When she had half of the candles lit, I extinguished them again.
“You!” she ground out. Then she turned her attention to her brother and the numbnuts driver. “Help me light them!”
Again, I let them light the majority before I put them out. Angrily, she stormed toward me. My breath left in a whoosh when she kicked me in the ribs. No matter how tough I’d tried to be, a groan escaped at the agony each breath shot through me.
“Do it again, and I’ll have Edgar knock your ass out. I really don’t need you conscious for this. It’s just more fun,” she spat. Of course his name was Edgar. How fitting.
Inhaling painfully, I quietly watched them circle the room, lighting the candles for the third time. Narrowing my eyes, I imagined Edgar tripping. One more step, and his feet tangled in the long, hooded cloak. A grim smile lifted my lips as he stumbled and fell to his knees.
“For fuck’s sake!” Belinda yelled at him. Neville shot me a glare, obviously suspecting me.
I held my laughter. Because not only did it hurt, but I didn’t fancy getting kicked again. Though I was finding sick humor in this now.
Once each candle was lit again, Belinda spun, and her cloak swirled dramatically wide. The three of them approached me, then they each kneeled. Neville at my head, Edgar at my left arm, and Belinda at my right.
She held the knife up, and the blade glinted on the waning sunlight. A guttural language I didn’t understand filled the air as the three of them spoke. When they were again silent, she pushed back my sleeve, and I winced at the movement of my arm.
“It won’t do you any good,” I warned her, deciding I needed to find another way to stop them. “I have to have bonded with my fated mate for my blood to do anything. You think I didn’t try to open the damn scrolls already? If so, you’re the fool.”