ELENA'S POV The white didn't fade so much as it pulled apart, like fabric being torn slowly enough to feel every thread give. I was still standing. That was the first thing I understood, not collapsed, not gone, upright inside the circle with the chanting still moving around me, lower now, strained, the coven's voices fighting to hold a shape that wanted to come undone. "She's still here," Esmeralda said, somewhere to my left. "The binding is holding. Barely." "Barely isn't holding," Lucian said. His voice was very close. Closer than the outer ring should have allowed. "Get back," Esmeralda said. "No," he said. I felt his hand close around mine again, and through the bond I felt the full weight of what he was choosing, proximity to whatever was happening to me over compliance with a witch's instructions, every single time, no exceptions, not even now. "Viviana," I said. My voice came out thin. "The baby—" "I felt it the second you did," Viviana said. She'd stopped the
Read more