Unbound

“We could skip this whole messy business. Save me having to kill your lovely family…” He loosened his grip. “We could keep playing our games, but you’ll be stronger.” He got more excited as he spoke, rubbing against her. “It’ll be fun.”

He unbuttoned her blouse. “You can’t run.” He traced down her sternum with bloody fingers. “That’s what I said to your grandmother. A little glaistig blood, powder, and magic, and she was helpless. Just like you…I have your kind’s blood in me. Just like glaistigs, when I speak, you have to obey…”

He kissed her and laid her back on his bed. “Lose the skirt…and the gun, Eve.”

Over the years, Eavan had felt herself forced under Nyx’s will; she’d watched Nyx and the rest of the clan bend mortals to their wishes. No one but Nyx was strong enough to force her to obey. Daniel shouldn’t be, either.

He was though.

“Thought you didn’t like them mindless?” Eavan ran her thumb along her bellyband holster. Would death by bullet, not by my actual hand, still mean changing? She wasn’t sure.

“I don’t. Once you lose the gun, I’ll gladly give you control.” His eyes darkened at the thought. “You want me; don’t you, Eve? You wanted me the night we met. Tell me the truth.”

“I did,” she admitted.

“The skirt.” He sat up, so she could remove it. “But keep the panties.”

“Why?” She lifted her hips and slipped the skirt off. Then she loosened the holster, pulling it apart at the fastenings as slowly as she could. Years of resisting Nyx had helped her to learn the tricks of disobeying glaistig control. It was about finding the loophole that allowed disobedience.

“I want you to make the choice.” He shivered as he said it.

She slid the gun out of the holster. “I am. I’m still mortal, Daniel…with immunity to all but a matriarch’s control. I couldn’t have survived my family if I wasn’t immune. No unturned glaistig could.”

But she still let him take the gun from her hand.

“Lucky me”—Daniel licked Nyx’s blood from his forearm—“I have matriarchal blood right here.”

“You know what glaistigs do? I’m going to kill you. Is that what you want?”

“You’d have shot me before if you were going to kill me.” Daniel rolled her on top of him. “You can’t kill me, Eve. That’s the last order I’ll give you. You have your will but for this: as long as I’m breathing, you can’t ever kill me.”

And with that, she had possession of her will. He’d given her complete control, save for murdering him. He knew enough about what she was to say the words that could make her safe. He forbade her, and she had to obey. Could Nyx have done that? If Nyx had ordered Eavan not to murder anyone, she would be free to stay human, free to have sex and live like a normal person. She wanted to weep at how basic it could be.

“As long as you’re breathing,” she repeated. As she turned the words over in her mind, she saw the flaw. She sealed her lips to his and breathed in. Her hands tightened around his throat.

He clawed at her hands, but an instinct centuries in the making held her. He was her first, but her body knew how things were to be. She drew his life into her mouth, sucking his dreams and fears into her lungs, holding him to her with hair that was extending from her in the same serpentine tendrils she’d once thought were beautiful on Nyx.

She did what Nyx could not, what her matriarch had failed to do, what she’d never wanted to do. Then she dropped Daniel to the floor.

“I’ve worked for years to not kill anyone. I’ve lived like a virgin. I’ve done everything I could to avoid this moment.”

As she stepped over him, she could still see her feet, her normal human toes, her pedicure. She didn’t have hooves. Yet.

12

Eavan was blood-covered when she walked into her house. Cillian didn’t bother asking if Brennan was alive. He couldn’t help glancing at her legs, though. Are they going to change? He wasn’t sure if such a change was immediate or not.

“Nyx?” she asked.

“Sleeping now. Muriel is with her. She says everything will be fine.” He didn’t know if he should reach out or what to do. If Eavan had been human, he’d have offered a shoulder to lean on; if she was a friend, he’d have offered an embrace. She was something else, so he settled for words: “Are you going to be all right?”

Eavan nodded. She dropped a stack of files on the table. “I didn’t know what you needed, so I brought these.”

He came to stand beside her. “Do you need anything?”

“A shower.” She looked lost, but resolute. “I’m a mess.”

He forgot his misgivings, his professionalism, and his common sense. He wrapped his arms around her and held on to her. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t crumble into sobs, either. For a moment, she stayed stiff, and then she relaxed into his embrace. Drying blood, some of it hers, streaked her skin. Traces of tears on her face made it apparent that she had cried, just not where there were witnesses.

“You should run, Cillian,” she whispered. “Being around us is unsafe.”