CHAPTER 20
“NO.” CURRAN STRODE TO THE CAR, HEADING DOWN the street away from the temple.
“No what?” I knew what, but I wanted him to spell it out. That way I could shut him down better.
“I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no. You’re not pulling that stunt.”
“It’s not up to you.”
He spun around. “Roland did it during full magic. He passed out. The magic is weak, and you’re not him. What the hell do you think it will do to you?”
“I thought about that. I’d need a power boost. My own miniflare.”
“Aha.”
“The device contains concentrated magic. When you open it—”
“When you open it, it fucking explodes, Kate. It would be like standing in the middle of an atomic blast.”
“She’s dying.”
Curran treated me to a full-blown alpha stare. His eyes glowed with primal power. Like looking into the eyes of a hungry beast emerging from the darkness. My muscles locked. I held his gaze.
“No,” he said, pronouncing the word slowly.
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
Curran roared. The blast of noise erupting from his mouth was like thunder. I clenched up, fighting the urge to step back.
“Yes I can,” he snarled. “Listen: this is me telling you what you will not do.”
I raised the cookbook and tapped him on the nose. Bad cat.
He jerked the book out of my hands, ripped it in half, flipped the two halves, ripped them again, and raised his hand. The pieces of the cookbook fluttered to the ground. “No.”
Fine. I turned and walked away, to the ruined houses. Behind me Curran’s foot scraped over the ground. He leaped over me and landed in my path. He looked completely feral.
I halted. “Move.”
“No.”
I kicked him in the head. The pressure of the past forty-eight hours rampaged inside me like a storm, and I’d sunk all of it into the kick. The impact hit his jaw at an angle. Curran staggered back. I spun and snapped another kick. He dodged. Another. Curran moved forward and right. My kick missed by a hair.
He grabbed my shin with his left hand, clamping it between his arm and his side, and swept my other leg from under me. Nice. A kung fu takedown.
I fell back. The pavement slapped my back. I rolled back up and hammered an uppercut to his chin.
Hitting him in the body was useless. Might as well pummel a tank. The head was my only chance.
Curran snarled. Blood dripped from a cut on his cheek. I’d opened a gash with my kick.
I threw a left hook. He knocked my arm out of the way and shoved me back. I twisted out of the way on pure instinct—damn it, he was fast—dropped into a crouch, and swiped his legs from under him. He jumped up, avoiding the kick, and I took a knee to the head.
Ow.
The world shattered into tiny painful sparks. I tasted blood—my nose was dripping. I rolled back, coming to my feet, blocked his punch, and jammed my knuckles into his throat, interrupting his growl in midnote. Felt that, did you, baby?
Curran charged. His hand locked on my shoulders. He swept me off my feet and slammed me into the wall, back to the bricks, pinning me. His teeth snapped a hair from my cheek. I kneed him. He blocked and clamped me in place.
“Done?” he breathed out. “Hmm?”
“Are you done?”
“Baby, I haven’t even started.”
“Oh good. Go ahead so I can finish it.” And how exactly was I going to do that?
Curran pushed me harder, grinding me into the wall. “I’m waiting. Show me what you’ve got.”
“Let go and I will.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise me you won’t do this thing and I’ll let go.”
I just stared at him.
Curran spun away, took two steps, and punched the wall. “Damn it.”