Harley Merlin 12 by Bella Forrest (story books to read TXT) 📗

Hi, Slink. My mouth couldn’t quite form words. Not yet. My throat had dried, and the scent of smoke rested in my nostrils. Memories flooded my mind: the restaurant, the fire, the rooftop. Not my memories, per se. These belonged to Kadar. I could always tell the difference. His memories had a spikier edge to them.

The serpent raised his head and flicked his tongue, slithering closer. I tried to lift my arm to stroke him, but there seemed to be a delay between my brain and my limbs. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Since getting sick, every time I switched with Kadar, it took time for my body to readjust.

So, I lay there with only my thoughts for company. I thought of Santana, mostly. She was always on my mind, especially recently. Even before the strange sickness took hold, which Kadar and I couldn’t explain to anyone, least of all ourselves.

The simple truth was that I loved Santana. I’d probably been in love with her from the moment we met. Back then, I’d thought a relationship would be impossible, but she’d changed my mindset. She’d embraced me and the beast—both of us—though Kadar could be terrifying when he wanted to be. He still scared me sometimes, but we had to coexist.

I’d believed, perhaps foolishly, that I could manage a relationship. When Kadar warmed to her, it had bolstered that hope. In fact, he loved her almost as much as I did. I didn’t always like that, but at least we were on the same page. And he knew not to tread on my toes. He’d seen what had happened with my father and Zalaam, and he likely hadn’t wanted to give me a reason to suppress him the way my father had suppressed his djinn for so long.

Everything had gone smoothly… until it hadn’t. I couldn’t say when the change had occurred. I suppose it was the first time we spoke about a future, a month or so ago. Our relationship had grown serious, and that sort of talk was a natural progression. It should’ve been fun—discussing children, a house, a family. But it had filled me with a sense of dread. Not because I didn’t love her enough, or because I didn’t want those things. I did. But I realized as we talked that I couldn’t give them to her.

Since then, I’d slowly tried to push her away. Not very successfully, I might add. I had no idea how to begin. Santana was my one weakness, more a part of me than the djinn, in many ways. I loved her too much. Kadar loved her too much. I knew I had to, but I couldn’t bring myself to sever ties. It would’ve destroyed me as much as cutting Kadar loose.

And that brought confusion and frustration. I was an only child raised by a bitter father. The curse of the Levi family took my mother—his wife. It was the punishment of my ancestor, who crossed a powerful sorcerer, and it had plagued us ever since. It didn’t always happen that way, with death, but my mother had been unlucky. And Santana came from a big, happy family, a world away from the life I’d led. She’d told me she wanted a houseful of children, and it pained me to know that every child would risk Santana’s life—more than the ordinary risks associated with childbirth. We might not even make it past one kid before the curse claimed her. How could I chance that? I couldn’t play Russian roulette with the woman I loved more than life.

The sickness with Kadar had only added to the strain. Santana had been incredible, sitting up all night with me. I wouldn’t have eaten or drunk anything if it hadn’t been for her care. I’d fallen in love with her even more, experiencing that. Kadar had, too. She had maternal instincts already. Who was I to say she couldn’t use them on her own children? Who was I to take that from her? People always said love knew no boundaries, but sometimes they had to be set, for the happiness of the person you loved most.

I hated feeling so weak. My djinn’s strength had generally faded, though it came back in violent spurts of Chaos that I couldn’t control. When he wasn’t lashing out like tonight, he’d become much easier to placate. Rising to the surface took a lot out of him. But what he felt, I felt. I may not have felt the pains he endured, but I suffered the aftermath—the tiredness, the feebleness, the need to sleep for a year.

You almost killed us tonight. Kadar didn’t answer. He was buried deep. As much as I wanted to free Santana from our relationship, so she could find the happiness she deserved and live without limitations, I didn’t want it like that. I didn’t want her to grieve my death. Kadar’s outbursts had grown unpredictable. And I feared what he might try next while he held our body’s reins.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Krieger’s voice distracted me. “I wondered how long you might be out.”

“How long was I out?” I croaked. Slinky slithered up my chest and draped himself around my throat, warming my stiff muscles. Not usually what you’d expect from a reptile, but he was no ordinary reptile.

Krieger came over to check my drip. “Less than an hour.”

“Good, I thought it might’ve been longer.” I struggled to sit up. “Is Santana here? I heard her voice.”

“She stepped outside with Finch,” Krieger explained.

“Finch?” I pictured the rooftop and recalled something pulling me back. Finch had saved me, I remembered.

As if summoned, Finch and Santana entered the infirmary. They both looked awkward. Considering I’d heard her from all the way in here while unconscious, I imagined they’d had a heated conversation. Santana had wanted a word with him ever since Harley told her Finch would be at dinner. I’d urged her to leave it alone, but I