Jordan POV
Kaif is nervous and restless as he crouches, going through the bag and pulling out a gold bowl. He reaches up, holding his hand out for the grimoire, and flicks through the pages while we watch him work. None of us have any idea what he is doing.
He mixes herbs before cutting the palm of his hand and bleeding into the bowl, murmuring something in a foreign language. The bowl starts smoking before catching fire. I jump back, but he doesn’t even flinch. Eziah watches curiously as Kaif wafts the smoke and flames away, revealing a black tar-like substance in the bowl.
He stands from his crouched position before dipping his fingers in the bowl. My fingertips burn, and I wonder how he can stand the heat. Marabella hisses, sucking her finger.
“Crap, sorry, love,” he mutters, looking over at her. “You okay? I need to do it while it is hot, or it will set,” Kaif says, and she nods.
Eziah walks over and grips her hand, rubbing his thumb over her fingertips. Her fingertips glow, and Ka
