the door. “Don’t hurt her. That’s not how we do things around here.”
“A topic we are still evaluating,” Lucian called over to them. “Some infractions require pain as punishment.”
The mind reader’s jaw clenched. “Not today.”
Sethios shrugged. “Fine. I can intimidate her without true physical harm. Just open the door.”
“Or perhaps I should enter first. I have no quarrels with the Ichorian. I just need to borrow her ability.”
Balthazar’s irises flashed with instant suspicion. “Borrow?”
“Yes.” Gabriel didn’t see the need to elaborate. He’d purposely used that term.
Balthazar narrowed his brown eyes. “Explain how you intend to ‘borrow’ it.”
“It would be more prudent to show you instead.” He didn’t necessarily care if they learned about Gabriel’s rune. It wasn’t like they could remove or replicate the charm.
Gabriel took a step forward, only to have Balthazar block him like he’d done Sethios seconds before. “Will it hurt her?”
“Minor scrapes cause pain in some beings, so potentially, yes.” He planned to use a blade against her palm or wrist, whichever proved easier.
Rather than wait for a reply, Gabriel misted through Balthazar and the door to reach the prisoner inside. Lucian had already provided his permission for this experiment. He didn’t need the mind reader’s acceptance as well, just his willingness to convey the captive’s thoughts. Which he would do once he realized the girl was mostly unharmed.
Only, the sight of her had Gabriel pausing upon his entry.
She sat in a corner with her slender arms wrapped around her exposed legs, the long shirt she wore barely covering her thighs. Her crystal blue eyes held a manic gleam to them that enhanced her odd rocking.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Sideways.
Repeat.
He frowned at her quick repetition, his surprise at her condition costing him precious seconds and allowing Balthazar the chance to unlock the door and enter.
Gabriel materialized but didn’t try to approach the female. Instead, he studied her, noting the bizarre aura around her. Her blonde ringlets were tangled, indicating it’d been a few days since her last brushing. But that wasn’t what confused him—it was the bathroom attached to her cell with the shower she’d clearly not used for some time. If ever.
Was she rebelling? That would explain the uneaten food as well. But what practical recourse did that serve? She was hurting herself more than others, as evidenced by the dark bags beneath her eyes.
Ichorians needed blood, and this woman had clearly not imbibed much lately. Balthazar had worried needlessly about Gabriel harming her. She was doing that just fine on her own.
Fortunately, Gabriel didn’t need her coherent to borrow her abilities.
He misted to her side, a blade already in his hand, and knelt. “I need a sample of your blood,” he informed her softly.
The words just sort of came out of him without permission or purpose. She didn’t need to know what he wanted or why he intended to touch her. Prisoners had no rights. She’d also more than earned this fate. Yet some part of him felt the need to explain himself.
Rather than evaluate the oddity, he quickly sliced the knife across her forearm. She didn’t move or react, just continued that inane twisting, her eyes focused on some point ahead of her.
His lips nearly curled down at the sight, but he busied himself by tasting the essence coating his blade.
Blood never really appealed to him, despite it being a primary source of power for his kind. However, Clara’s essence contained a tangy flavor that briefly caught his attention as he swallowed. Then the tingling began at the base of his spine as his rune engaged, distracting him from the female’s taste.
He sheathed his blade, waiting for the power to ignite. The last time he did this—about two decades ago—it’d taken only a few seconds for him to feel the effects of the new talent.
This one appeared to be coming to him gradually, likely because he’d imbibed less blood than the other experience. He could take more if—
His knees nearly buckled as the full force of her ability stole his breath.
Fuck!
The pain.
It hurt his heart, squeezing the organ so tightly he couldn’t breathe. It overwhelmed him, bringing tears to his eyes. He’d never felt anything like it, as though someone had taken a dagger to his chest and shoved deep.
Wind blew through his ears, roaring with rage, inundating his senses and handicapping him entirely. Where was it coming from? How was this possible?
More tears streamed down his face, his cheeks aching from the assault. Fuck, he was wheezing, and at some point, he’d