that he hates me and shouldn’t be laughing about getting the best of Adriel.
“I didn’t know if you would be able to use your runes,” I admit, fully expecting him to ignore the statement now that he’s once again classified me as the enemy.
“Elder Cleary practically forced me to start trying to use them. I’m shit with the bow and arrows, and the mace seems a bit useless. You need to update your arsenal. Bring those magical weapons into this century. No one uses a mace anymore,” he grumps, and I chuckle.
“I just killed a bear shifter with one,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes.
“Of course you did,” he deadpans.
“It’s a good option when you need to do damage and work out some aggression at the same time,” I offer, and he just shrugs and shakes his head.
“Would you like me to try and heal you?” I ask, gesturing with my hand at the eye that’s black and swollen shut.
“I thought you couldn’t with that thing around your neck?”
“It doesn’t stop me from using magic; it just makes it fucking excruciating.”
“You could barely move five minutes ago, and now you want to hurt yourself even more to heal a couple bruises?”
“A couple bruises?” I challenge. “Bruh, you look like one big fucking bruise.”
He smiles like he can’t help himself and then works to put his scowl back in place.
“You’d be doing me a favor really,” I throw out casually. “I need to learn to push through the pain and still function, because who the fuck knows when this collar is coming off. Plus I’ve had my daily dose of delicious blood today, so I’m good to go,” I snark. “No pressure or anything, though. We only have a psychotic lamia we have to kill and his nest we have to battle, but if you can do your shit impression of Robin Hood with one eye and all the other injuries you have, be my guest.”
Becket rolls his eye at me again but doesn’t say anything. The silence grows awkward, and it presses in against me, demanding I say something, but what the fuck can I say? Hey, can we just move past that whole I killed your father thing? Or maybe I should go with a more casual so you’re talking to Elder Cleary; does that mean you believe your dad kidnapped and was going to rape me? I don’t want to pretend like nothing happened and that we don’t have some fucked up history between us, but given the alternative, it’s probably the best plan of action while we’re in this cell.
I braid my hair quickly in hopes that it will help keep it from ratting up again, and I rip off an already tattered piece of the red sweater I’m wearing, which will need to be burned if I ever get out of this place. I don’t look too closely at the darker stains that mar the once soft fabric, as I don’t need a trip down the memory lane of horror that this place has now stamped in my mind. I tie off the braid and lean back against the tan stone wall, Becket watching me the whole time.
“Fine,” he finally relents. I simply nod my head and move to kneel near him. “This doesn’t change anything between us,” he warns as I push up his shirt and take in the deep purple and black bruises on his side and stomach.
“Fair enough,” I concede and place my hands over his darkest bruises. I pull my gaze from his ribs and look into his deep brown eyes. “Apologies in advance for the screaming,” I tell him, and with that, I call on my Healing magic and shove as much as I can into Becket before I pass out again.
23
Chips of stone explode from the wall, and I turn my face to protect my eyes from the projectiles.
“Perfect hit,” I cheer, and Becket swings his arm back and then forward to land another one.
The spikes of the mace dig into the stone wall, and Becket yanks hard with a grunt to dislodge them.
“When that happens, instead of spending time trying to free the spikes from whatever they’re imbedded in, just release the magic. The mace will automatically disappear, and you can call on it again. It will flash back to you, and you’ll have the upper hand again,” I instruct.
Becket lets go of the handle of the mace that’s still stuck in the wall and does exactly