Mated To My Captor
Lyra held a matching dagger, her face illuminated by the pulsating violet glow of the ritual circle.
"Drop the blades!" I screamed. My voice was shredded by the wind, but the power behind it made the violet mist recoil.
Beside me, Sage scrambled into a defensive position, her hands hovering over her utility belt, while I felt the heavy presence of the rest of the team fan out behind us.
Silas didn't flinch. He didn't even look up at first. He merely tilted the blade, the tip grazing the hollow of Dante’s throat. A single bead of dark blood welled up, and I felt a sharp, stinging sympathetic pain in my own neck.
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