AKIKO
The circle closes around me like jaws, and for three heartbeats I let Vivienne think she's won.
The binding snaps into place—blood calling to blood, Matsuki's essence recognizing mine, seventeen years of stolen samples creating sympathetic resonance that should lock me in place like a butterfly pinned to cork. The air thickens to syrup, magic pressing against my skin from all directions. My yokai flicker and fade, unable to manifest through wards calibrated specifically to contain kitsune power.
Perfect.
Through the bond, I feel Giancarlo's amusement spike as he launches into his villain-mocking routine. The man has absolutely zero sense of self-preservation, and it makes my chest tight with something that tastes like love and exasperation mixed with pure want.
Keep her talking,
