“To clean myself?” I bark out a laugh. “I can manage.”
He doesn’t offer me even the slightest of smiles. “I’m concerned for you, Bronywyn. This is—”
“You promised you wouldn’t try to talk me out of it,” I snap out, interrupting him. Magic pulsates beneath my skin. Something that should have been welcome feels totally alien to me now that I don’t recognize where my magic ends and the shadow magic begins.
Tarnley steps back, eyes widening in surprise, though he doesn’t elaborate as to why. “I’m not going to talk you out of anything. I’m merely mentioning that you aren’t acting like yourself.”
He wants to control you. They all do. Kill him.The magic forces images into my head, and I swallow hard, trying to force them out with sheer will. “Stop.”
“Bronywyn?” He reaches forward and brushes a strand of loose blonde hair from my face. The contact is warm, comforting, and instantly, the voices are silenced.
“Thank you,” I swallow hard. “Let me get cleaned up, and then you need to drink from me.”
“You’re—”
“I’m fine,” I retort. “But neither of us will be if we don’t do the blood exchange. With everything going on—”
“We forgot,” he interjects, finishing my sentence.
“Exactly.”
With a curt nod, he steps back. “There are towels in the cabinet.” He gestures to a navy-blue door just above the toilet. “I will see if I can get you some fresh clothes.”
“Thank you.”
He leaves without another word, and I wrap both arms around myself before sucking in a deep breath.I’m in trouble.The realization hits home, though I know I have to risk it if we’re going to stop Lucy before she manages to kill every single one of us.
My gaze drifts to the door.
I was willing to sacrifice my soul—my life.
But if the blood doesn’t help, if his pain is genuinely caused by the shadow magic steadily growing inside of me, can I risk Tarnley’s?