Neverthorn (Of Quirks and Curses, #1)

by Shannon Mayer

“You must never let her go to that school. They will destroy her, because she is mine. You know that.”

Liam stared at me. “Harlow?” I held up a hand, “Oh, wow, yeah. Honored, truly. But I actually have to head out early today. I have some razorblades I’d rather be eating, if it’s all the same to you.” Liam’s eyes sparkled with a flicker of humor, but he kept a straight face.

Typhon stood there, his hair mussed, his shirt undone to the middle like he’d just chucked it on in a mad scramble and damned if that wasn’t a tattoo peeking out, and . . . bare feet. Why was he barefoot? I blinked up at him, tried to find my voice because my emotions were pinging all over the place. “Morning.” “What the fuck is going on?” Liam shrugged. “We were having a private conversation.”

My runes settled into his skin. “What the fruck?” I meant the words to come out hard, angry, but they were . . . barely breathed. “If you won’t obey Doyenne Elmwood,” Typhon didn’t let me go, just dragged me closer to his face, his eyes dilating as he stared down at me, like he was the hunter and I was the prey, “Then you will obey me.”

“Was it just me, or was that seriously hot?” Bandit squeaked.

He pushed off the desk and strode toward me. The urge to back up was strong, but I stood my ground, craning my neck to meet his gaze head on. “Going to try and choke me again, are you?” Something flickered in his eyes and his voice went low and silky. “Not unless you say please.” I sucked in a sharp breath as he took my hand, folding my fingers so that I was ready to cast.

He didn’t ask me to do it my way. I just did. I simply crossed my thumbs before I opened my palms. The spell latched onto Typhon and dragged him close enough to me that his chest pressed tight against me, our hands tangled up just below our faces. “Try to break it,” I said. His eyes were locked on my fingers. “I can see your magic when you use the rune your way.” I looked at him. “The bonding spell?” He nodded, though I saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He was lying to me. About what?

“Why was it pulsating like that?” Almost as if it were alive. The image he’d shown me flickered and disappeared as he lowered his hand and met my gaze. “Because of you, Harlow.” I blinked at him as the words sank in. “The way you throw runes is similar to Everdark magic. The weave can sense it . . . the chaos, the darkness . . . and it reacts. Every time you do it, there is a ripple in the weave. The more energy you give the rune, and the closer you are to the weave, the stronger the response. If it tears, and we aren’t able to repair it quickly enough . .

“You knew that we were being muted?” I asked. Not accusing, just curious. “Rune gagged. Are you familiar with it?” I nodded. “Typhon is rune gagged as well. There is something going on he can’t speak about. A threat . . .” Her eyebrows shot up. “On a first-name basis, huh?” I let the comment slide by without a response.

“Do you see it, Harlow? The two paths you can take. Choose one.” I was about to reply when a strange sensation washed over me. Like I was suddenly being watched, even as the pain in my ribs faded and the emptiness began to subside. Typhon knew I was off grounds. His anger snapped through me and fruck me, he was close. This . . . this was not going to go well. “We’re in deep sheet,” I whispered.

There had been no questions about how I’d blocked our bond. And that made me wonder just what I’d said when I’d been incoherent and fighting in his arms .

His lips quirked and he bumped his shoulder lightly into mine. “Got it. We won’t speak of it for now. Just know that I would never . . . ever . . .” I glanced up at him and nodded. “I know that. And I’m sorry I dragged you into my . . . mess with Typhon.” There was a sudden flash of rage in my gut, and I struggled to understand where it had come from. A tug on the bond, and I was looking across the ring at Typhon. His eyes were narrowed on me and Liam. I struggled to breathe around the anger that snapped through me. Anger that was not my own. “Are you okay?” Liam put a hand to my back. “You went kinda pale there.” I cleared my throat and nodded. “Maybe a bit of nerves after all.”

“I hate Nocta too. For what he did to my family. To my mom.” She nodded. “I know.” I sucked in a breath. “But also, because a girl wants her dad to be her hero, and not a monster waiting to kill her and her friends.” She stared at me for a long moment, and then her eyes widened. “Fable . . . Nocta is my father.”

“I still can’t believe it. You’re a frucking Boost. The first of its kind,” Caterina said, shaking her head. Ten days later, I was still getting used to the fact myself. Who would’ve thought that I, Harlow Daygon, who, up until very recently, couldn’t throw a proper rune to save my life, would be able to take my magic, let it build until it almost split me in two, and then release it into an incredibly powerful super-rune, boosting my magic tenfold.

Anticlimactic

Nocta’s words, that had come in the form of a thought when he’d saved her and Krishna – words she’d convinced herself were a figment of her imagination, came back to her in a rush.

This book is not good. it's like the frozen tv. dinner of fantasy books.