Bound by Forever (True Immortality #3) - S. Young Page 0,47

hurt you, little one.”

Lies.

“I just want to make you feel good.”

And then he lunged, covering her mouth with his hand as he attempted to push her small body beneath his.

He grunted as Niamh resisted, stronger than any human twelve-year-old could ever be.

And something dark flickered inside her.

Something foreign to who she was.

Something angry and vengeful.

Because she couldn’t imagine she was the only child he’d tried this with. Had he succeeded with others?

The thought turned the rage to a flame and as they grappled, the energy tingling through Niamh’s extremities grew hotter and hotter and hotter—

Miller hissed in agony and scrambled off her, staring at his hands in horror.

Niamh did too.

His fingertips glowed like golden fire … and then they just …

The golden fire chased black ash, and the ash began to crumble. His finger, palms, wrists, arms all crumbling to dust.

Niamh gaped at his face and watched as it cracked and blackened and caved in on itself.

Until there was nothing left but a pile of ash on the bed and floor.

Skittering away from it, Niamh fell off the other side of the bed. Sickness swarmed from her gut and she threw up on the carpet, heaving until there was nothing left.

Sensing someone’s presence, Niamh looked up and saw her brother standing in the light spill from the open door.

His attention swung between her and the ash.

“What happened?” His eyes blazed fiercely.

“Miller,” she replied, falling back on her rump. Tears spilled in hot rivers down her cheeks. “He tried to hurt me.”

Ronan skirted the vomit and kneeled beside her, pushing her hair off her face. He looked murderous. “What did he do? Where is he?”

“He was going to hurt me, Ronan.”

“I had a bloody awful feeling about him,” he choked out. “It woke me up. I’m sorry, Nee. I should have said something sooner. Did you hurt him instead?”

Her lips parted to speak but she couldn’t quite say it out loud. Instead she stood and Ronan put his arms around her, holding her. She pointed to the ash on the bed.

She felt her brother stiffen. “Nee?”

She sobbed, trying to muffle the sound so she wouldn’t waken Siobhan. “I didn’t mean it,” she gasped softly. “I don’t know how I did it. It just happened.”

Her brother released his hold on her, stumbling toward the bed to stare closer at the ash. “Are you saying … you incinerated him?”

Nausea rolled through her again. “I didn’t mean it.”

Ronan stared back at her. And for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes.

It made her cry harder.

“Shh, Nee.” He patted her shoulder tentatively.

He was afraid of her.

“We have to go.” He ducked his head to hers to meet her eyes. The fear hid behind panic. “No one can know. They’ll take you away.”

“Maybe they should.”

Anger clouded his features. “Don’t ever say that. This was self-defense, Nee. The bastard was a sick fuck. You hear me?”

She nodded quickly.

“Okay. Pack a bag. Quietly. Pack only what you need.”

“But what about Siobhan?”

Sadness flickered across his face. “She can’t protect you.”

“But how—”

“Just pack a bag and meet me at the front door.” He darted out of the room.

Niamh stared at the ash.

They couldn’t leave it there. It was evidence.

As easily as the horrible magic had come to her to defend herself against Miller, it didn’t come so easily as she tried to open the window with it. Ronan didn’t want her using it a lot, so she was out of practice.

And exhausted from what had just happened.

Sending her energy like powerful arms and nimble hands toward the window, she pushed down the handle and watched it open silently.

Then, with a flick of her hand toward the ash, it swirled into the air like a cyclone, the room sparking with the electricity of her magic. With an aggressive thrust of her hand, the ash cyclone swept out of the room, through the window, and out into the night sky.

Trembling with weariness, Niamh used what little energy she had to locate the things she needed without moving from the spot. Then she used her magic to clean up the vomit, tidy her bed, and teleport downstairs.

Ronan was already at the front door and he jumped a mile when she popped out of thin air.

He surprised her by saying, “You probably should practice.”

“Why?”

“Because a fourteen-and twelve-year-old won’t survive out there without magic.”

His words followed Niamh as they disappeared out of the nice house on the nice street in the nice neighborhood. She ached for Siobhan, and her mind railed against the