“You don’t really think I’m going to let you leave, do you?”
“I think you don’t have a choice,” I answer. “I played your little game and I won. And now I’m walking away. From you. From this arena. From everything.”
I start to pull my elbow from his grip, and that’s when his fingers tighten, pinning me in place. And there’s nothing I can do. I’m fighting a fatigue so powerful, my entire body is shaking with the effort to stay on my feet. “You think I don’t know you cheated?”
“Do you think I care what you know?” I shoot back.
“I designed this Trial. There’s no way you beat it on your own.” His fingers dig into my elbow a little more with each word that he hisses.
I don’t flinch or pull away, even though the pain is getting worse by the second. Instead, I return his smile and answer, “I find it interesting that you felt the need to put together the hardest Trial ever for a half-human girl who’s only had her powers about two weeks. Overkill much?”
“Are you saying you didn’t cheat?” he asks.
“Are you saying you didn’t?” I counter.
Because I suppose, technically, I did cheat a little—I used Hudson’s power when only mates can help each other.
But that’s nothing compared to what they did to ensure that I failed. They deliberately broke my mating bond minutes before I walked into the arena.
They deprived me of a mate, not just for this ridiculous game but for the rest of my life as well.
They broke me…and Jaxon.
And Cyrus thinks he’s going to come down here and complain that I cheated? Sorry, so not sorry.
“Do you think this means you’re actually going to get a seat on the Circle, little girl?” It’s said with a snarl, though his face never changes—and neither does the pressure of his fingers on my elbow. “No gargoyle will ever sit on it again. Not while I’m king. Not after what they did.”
I don’t know what he means, and I don’t care. Not now, maybe not ever.
Which is why I snarl back, “I don’t give a shit about your Circle. I never have.” I’m fed up with this conversation, fed up with him, fed up with this whole damn world and its arbitrary rules and out-of-control power grabs. “So why don’t you and your little group of playmates pack up your stuff and go home? Nobody wants you here.”
“You don’t get to tell me to go home.” He starts to circle around behind me, and I know something is coming, can feel it in my bones.
But I’m still not backing down from this man. I can’t. More, I won’t. Instead, I reach for my gargoyle. For the shiny platinum thread that has kept me safe for days now.
“You don’t get to tell me anything,” he continues.
I turn my head so I can track his movements. Just because I refuse to back down to him doesn’t mean I’d ever let him out of my sight—especially when he’s this close. “I feel exactly the same way, Cyrus.” I deliberately use his name just to piss him off.
It works, his voice turning to ice as he says, “You know we can’t both win, right, Grace?”
I would congratulate myself for getting under his skin, but there’s something in his tone that tells me I pissed him off too much. Something that puts me on high alert and has me pulling on the platinum thread. I start to shift even though I’m exhausted and I know it will cost me. But I’m too worn out; my gargoyle is sluggish.
And that’s when Cyrus strikes, fangs flashing a millisecond before he sinks them into my neck, right over my carotid artery.
122
You’re So Jelly
I scream as the world goes completely out of control, the ground shaking so hard that I swear it’s going to tear itself apart. And then I scream again.
I can’t help it. The pain is overwhelming, so different than when Jaxon bites me that I can barely comprehend what’s happening.
“Stop!” I scream, shoving Cyrus off as I desperately try to complete my shift.
But I can’t transform, my body already moving beyond my control as the pain starts shooting down my arms, turning my legs weak and my blood to fire.
Oh God, it hurts. It hurts.
Tears bloom in my eyes, but I blink them back as I push at Cyrus, desperate to get him off me. But he’s already off, already pulling away.