Free The Protection of Ren Crown by Anne Zoelle Page B

looping thoughts.
    Olivia stood rigid, her gaze focused entirely on Constantine. In contrast to the searing hate in her eyes, her words were calm and precise. “Leandred, I will report you for immediate termination if you ever use that—or one like it—again.”
    His face and body held a compelling sort of tension, as if he were intoxicated, with too much power rolling through him. He was brimming with it, like some sort of dark god. He flexed his fingers to show her his empty palms and my eyes watched the gilded lines of his hands. He waved dismissively at Olivia, leaving tracers of gold in the air. “And put yourself in the line of fire? Self-sacrifice in a Price? I doubt that highly.”
    “You don't know what I'd do,” she said darkly.
    Constantine smiled lazily, deceptively casual once more. “The day a Price sacrifices herself is the day the end of the world begins. You are welcome for the save. It will, of course, never happen again.”
    He turned away from her and touched my free hand, turning it palm up. “That was truly exceptional, Crown. You should always glow like this.” He slid a small envelope along the skin of my palm, gold light trailing in the wake. “Enjoy your birthday present,” he whispered.
    I mechanically gripped the paper.
    He sauntered into the shadows, disappearing moments later. And still I couldn't force myself to move, or tell my fingers to relinquish their choke hold around the button in my other hand.
    Olivia stared long and hard at the space he had occupied before whirling to face me. She looked at my closed fist and expressions vied on her face. Pain, irritation, grim determination. “Don't ever let someone use a leech on you again, unless I'm there. Swear it.”
    I tried to force my mouth to move, my throat to work, air to pass... Nothing emerged.
    She pinned me with the look, the one that made even the Excelsine officials sweat. “Swear it.”
    The smooth edges of the metal dug into my palm; I was gripping the button painfully hard. The thought of letting someone pull thoughts and magic from me was not at the top of my to-do list. “I don't plan,”I said, my voice oddly hoarse, “to allow that to happen again.”
    The lines around her mouth tightened at my wording, and I could see her formulating and discarding arguments in her head, but by mutual unspoken consent, we pivoted and headed back to the car at a quick pace. My limbs shook and I jogged unsteadily. The dome had withheld any magic use inside of it from showing up on the grid—I had gleaned that knowledge from Constantine's thoughts while we had been connected—but there would be evidence of the dome's collapse. The Department would be here any moment.
    As our jog became a run, I gripped the circle of metal tighter. “A button?” A barbed fishhook would have been a better representation of the magic contained within.
    I had been leeched of magical control and thought. Constantine could have taken whatever he wanted from me, just like Raphael had—turning my magic into...containment domes, and horrible boxes, and weapons that stripped magic.
    I pushed the envelope Constantine had given me into my back pocket as our pace increased to a sprint. In light of everything, I didn't want to see what he had given me for my birthday yet.
    “A button looks unexceptional,” Olivia said in between gasped breaths as we rounded the last corner. “Especially here. Never trust anything people wear.”
    I thought of Constantine's belt and the battle cloaks with their multiple fastenings, and nodded spasmodically.
    We practically dove into the car, and buckled in quickly as I shoved the key in. I didn't relinquish my hold on the button, and my grip on the steering wheel pressed it into my left palm. I pressed far too hard on the accelerator, squealing the tires before they bit into the road and jerked us forward.
    “Where is the nearest port?” I only knew the port that was located in the coffee shop in my suburb. Olivia and I