Page 105 of The Edge of Darkness

As if my shadow had given her pleasure, a long, satisfied exhale pushed past the wraith’s purple lips, and her eyelids fluttered. “Another,” she whispered. When I didn’t respond, her eyes snapped open and narrowed. “Another,” she commanded, this time crooking her finger at me.

I felt a prickling sensation against my mind, and a tendril of shadow stretched for the wraith’s open palm.

Everything moved in slow motion. I watched my shadow drift further away from me even though I tried to call it back with my mind. My head had gone fuzzy, my mental shield patchy and thin—easy to slip through.

My brows pinched. I had no control over myself.

Nivelle took an abrupt step forward and swatted the shadow away before it could land in the wraith’s grasp. Then, the witch’s own hand was at the creature’s throat, squeezing. The wraith shrieked, clawing at Nivelle’s arm, but the cuts left no mark on the witch’s skin. Instead, blue light pulsed in place of every would-be gash from the wraith’s long, pointed nails. The witch squeezed harder, digging her fingertips into the column of the wraith’s slender neck, threatening to cut off her air supply if she held on a few seconds longer. Her facial markings flared blue, and the creature immediately stopped fighting.

My mind cleared as whatever spell the wraith had cast vacated, and I shook out my head, instantly craving revenge. I ground my jaw as I swung my gaze back toward the pale bitch.

Shadowfire shot through my veins, aching to burst forth and lash out, but I held my grip on it, willing it to stay calm, though it took more effort than I would have liked.

Nivelle tilted her chin back, somehow managing to look down on the wraith, even though they were roughly the same size and height.

The witch had a fiery spirit, and a heart that was hard as stone. She was strong, fearless. And damnit, this entire situation had just moved her up a notch in my favor.

“Use your spells again, and I’ll rip your heart out through your throat,” Nivelle threatened, her voice a low, seething rasp.

None of us moved.

The wraith forced a swallow beneath the witch’s death-grip, managing a shaky nod. When Nivelle released her, the creature sagged backward, gasping, blinking back tears as she coughed.

“Y-You.” She raised a shaky finger at Nivelle. “You are not supposed to be here.”

“Times have changed, wraith. Soon, these very mountains will be inhabited by witches once more.”

I didn’t try to correct her word to co-inhabited, as badly as I wanted to.

The creature took a wary step backward, glancing between all of us. “Why have you all come?”

“For answers,” I said. “And you will give them to us—freely. Or your excessively long existence will end today.”

Those blue eyes winced. She knew I spoke the truth, and could probably sense that my temper was on edge. One more wrong move would spell her doom. She nodded while she worked her fingers along the column of her neck, as if she were soothing it with magic while waiting for the interrogation to begin.

“First, cover yourself,” I commanded.

As instructed, she summoned a thin material and wrapped it around her chest like a towel. Unfortunately, the fabric was as thin as wafer paper. It clung to her wet curves, essentially covering nothing. She had both obeyed my command and yet still managed to defy it, and the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth had my shadowfire boiling to the surface.

Before I could retaliate, Auren stepped forward. She reached into her pocket in space, pulled out a blanket, and tossed it at the wraith. The creature caught it and kept an eye on Auren while she reluctantly wrapped the fabric around herself, cinching it tight within her grasp just beneath her collarbone.

How thoughtful of you, I gritted a bit too sarcastically into my mate’s mind. The only thing I wanted to give the wraith was a slap across her insolent face. But at least she was now properly covered.

Auren didn’t reply. Instead, she dove right into questioning the creature. “Did a High Lord venture here once? Long ago?”

The wraith eyed her curiously, glancing from her, back to me, as if scenting our mating bond and piecing things together for herself. “Many foolish souls have dared to enter my domain.”

Auren gestured toward me. “The fae that I speak of possessed shadows, like his.”

The wraith hesitated. Then . . . “I recall a being with similar power.”

We waited for her to elaborate, but it was clear the creature was going to keep dishing out minimal information.

She wants something in return.

As if reading my mind, Nivelle slung the sack off her shoulder and flung it at the wraith’s feet. It hit the ground with a wet thud. Then, it moved.

The wraith’s eyes went wide with delight, and she stooped over the cinched fabric, ripping into it with her nails and catching hold of the thing within. She withdrew her hand, and in her clutch was a large white hare with bright, red eyes. Its feet kicked in protest, ears twitching as the wraith grinned and inspected her prize.