Covetous: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book 2)

by Victoria Evers

  “That’s not at all what it looked like back there, I swear. I don’t know what happened. I’m so, so, so sorry, about everything!” The words were clumsy at best, but they were the only things I could think to say as Reese locked the door behind me. “I never should have bitten Blaine. I should’ve listened to you from the very beginning! I should’ve just run away the moment Blaine tracked me down here! I should’ve listened!”

  Reese was shaking his head, and it felt like a vise grip had seized my heart, slowly applying pressure to it until the muscle would explode in my chest.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered.

  “Don’t say that—”

  “Kat, listen to me.”

  “No!” I reached behind me for the doorknob. A stupid, childish part of me was convinced that if I ran away from him, if I could get out before he could speak, I’d be able to stop him from doing what I knew was inevitable.

  But his palms came to rest on both sides of the door right behind my head. “Listen.”

  Not him too…

  I couldn’t lose him, too. Everybody else had already abandoned me.

  “Dr. Madsen’s found a cure.”

  My pounding heart seemed to skip a beat, maybe even two or three. “What?”

  “You said the mating bond didn’t work when the Angel of Death attacked you at school, right?”

  I nodded. “My omen rune went off, but Blaine had no idea. The connection was somehow interrupted.”

  This little tidbit of information brought a sly smile to decorate his lips as he crooked his finger and gestured for me to follow him over to the bed. Pulling out printed copies of the ledger we had borrowed from Blaine, he found the page in question and handed the sheet over to me.

  “‘Sanctus Perimo…directly derived from the Latin words meaning ‘holy abolishment,’” I read aloud. “‘Seven holy swords were forged from Angelorum steel and given to Samael, also known in some scripts as the Angel of Death. The fuller of these blades is said to be brandished with angelic sigils that work to deactivate the effects of Black Magic. Any demon or Dark Mage will find their powers useless when in its presence, and when killed at the hand of these swords, any soul will be banished to eternal Purgatory. The angel Samael gifted one of these blades to a special offspring of men, who shared his angelic bloodline…’”

  In other words, Reapers.

  But… Purgatory? As in eternal suffering? More of Raelynd’s words came to mind, what he had said about Blaine intervening when Russell tried killing me. “The fact he would risk getting his very soul claimed is a true testament to his character.”

  All the blood drained from my face as I stumbled back.

  “It’s well documented that runes can’t be tampered with,” said Reese, too consumed by the papers in his hands to notice I could be knocked over with a feather. “Even if you were to burn your entire hand and arm to destroy Blaine’s mark and mating bond, the moment your skin healed back to normal, the runes would regain their power.”

  “…Yeah. So?”

  “What if there was a way to maim the skin so that it couldn’t heal?”

  “By somehow swiping a blade from an avenging angel who wants me dead? That sounds like a suicide mission.”

  Reese just smiled. “You won’t need to get it from him.”

  Nick’s questions from last night hit me like a railroad spike.

  “Who killed Russell Hurst?”

  “What happened to his blade?”

  The breath caught in my lungs. “Blaine.”

  ***

  “During the 18th century, when there was an upsurge in the art of dark magic, there was a blade reportedly used to permanently disable a Mage’s runes. If it cut through the brand, the magic would cease to run through the rune, making it ineffective,” Reese further explained to me.

  Just like Val’s runes.

  “Why did Reapers kill all of them if they could be neutralized?” I asked. “You know, asides from the fact that they’re assholes?”

  “Because severing the power didn’t cure them from the demonic virus. Their offspring would still carry the same dark magic. Reapers wouldn’t risk that kind of energy being passed on to another generation.” He sighed. “Are you absolutely certain the Angel’s blade you saw was exactly marked like Russell’s?”

  All the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place as the gears began working in my mind. “You should’ve seen Blaine’s face when I mentioned that Death’s blade shared the same symbols as the one Russell tried to kill me with. Blaine couldn’t get me away from the school fast enough. And he himself has a sizeable scar on his unmarked arm, suspiciously right where Russell had cut him with that very same blade.”

  Reese beamed at me. “If this does work, if we can get our hands on one of these swords, then we can break both the mating bond and the hex placed on you. After that, finding a cure for the virus will be the only hurtle we have left.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t even know where to start looking for the blade,” I pointed out. “I haven’t seen it in over eight weeks, and the last time I did, I was half delirious with the virus. I fell unconscious after Blaine used it to kill Russell.” A knot formed in my stomach at the very thought of that night. But then something else ate away at me. “I still managed to use my runes to get the blade away from Russell when he came at me. If it’s supposed to turn off all dark magic, then how did I have use of it?”

  “That…I’m not entirely sure of.”

  “The sword could still be anywhere by now,” I said, admittedly deflating a bit. “And it’s not at his house. I already checked that place from the basement floor to the roof shingles.

  Three solid knocks thudded against the other side of the door. “Wrap it up, Doll Face. We’ve gotta get a move on,” called out Val.

  That pit returned to the bottom of my stomach, but Reese just took my hand, trailing his thumb over my runes. Tiny electrical pulses crackled along the surface, and I found myself leaning into him.

  “I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again,” I muttered.

  “Oh, I wager it’ll be much sooner than you think.”

  Before I could say anything, he pulled me in against his chest, seizing my lips. That very same electrical current worked its way across my mouth, into my face, tingling down my back, leaving me delirious and lightheaded in the best possible way.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  The door swung open on some kind of phantom wind. Magic no doubt. I turned back to where Reese had just been standing in front of me, but he was suddenly across the room. And that pissed off expression he’d been sporting earlier had evidently returned in full-force. Reese proceeded to glower at me—glower—as he pushed past me like I was some insufferable pest he wanted nothing to do with.

  “Get the hell out,” he growled.

  I just gawked at him.

  Paging Dr. Jekyll!

  Where the hell did this come from?

  “Ouch.” Val smirked as he strolled into the room, interlocking his arm around mine. “You heard the man, Doll Face. Let’s go.”

  He turned us around and guided me out the door. I barely had time to pluck up my dirtied pajamas from last night as I stole a glance back at Reese, who winked at me. The message was clear. I was now the fox in the brothers’ henhouse. Only problem, their henhouse was no henhouse at all. It was a shark tank. And there was blood in the water.

  Chapter 22

  Build God, Then We’ll Talk

  Were we actually onto something? Could this hex really be broken? Could the mating bond be severed? Butterflies swirled in my stomach at the mere possibility. I had to keep telling myself not to get too excited, but I couldn’t help it. The possibility of a normal life…it was too much for my heart to contain. There was a chance that Reese and I could actually have something between us, something that didn’t include Blaine, or Hell, or fangs, or the risk of death, all standing in the way.

  Val tossed me a plastic bag to throw my dirt
y clothes into, ordering me to change. Apparently, I was expected to look my best—or at least as presentable as I could be, all things considered—for when we arrived at the Hideaway. I did as he requested, palming Nick’s note as discretely as I could. There would be no knowing who might rummage through my belongings, and I didn’t want to risk having the paper fall into someone else’s hands. Tossing the stuffed plastic bag into my luggage, Val lobbed a pair of thigh-high boots on the bed, along with a satin top…and no pants, or coat. I picked up the blouse, realizing it wasn’t a shirt at all—but an Italian lace-trimmed chemise dress.

  “This is lingerie,” I growled.

  “Sorry, sis, but you’re about to become the Crown Princess of Lust. You need to dress in something more… well, lustful. This is gonna be the first time you’re presented to Raelynd’s crew with your new title, and no offense, but...” the Mage drawled, plucking out a few assorted items from my bag. “A pair of old jeans and a Walking Dead t-shirt ain’t gonna cover it.”

  “Yeah, well, this isn’t gonna cover anything either,” I snapped, waving the garment at him.

  Val pretended not to hear my objections as he slung my carry-on bag over his shoulder and exited the room, calling out, “Ride’s here.”

  I barked at him to return with my clothes, but he merely whistled, trotting down the railed steps to the parking lot. I grabbed the chemise off the bed and held it up against myself. The damn thing would’ve been lucky to reach my mid-thighs. On top of that, I looked out the window just as a stretch limousine rolled up in front of the building.

  Just perfect.

  I’d already spent the night outside in nothing but a towel, then a t-shirt, and now I had the humiliating pleasure of having to walk past all the rooms on both the second and first floor dressed like a high-end hooker.

  I snatched up the boots and forced my feet into them, not even bothering to unzip the long stretches of leather that came up to the lower halves of my thighs. The room remained suspiciously quiet, and I found myself slinking over to the bathroom, straining to hear any signs of Blaine. It wasn’t till I rounded the corner that I realized the door was cracked open and the light was off. He wasn’t here. But the mirror was…miraculously fixed.

  Hurrying back to the window, I checked to see if the coast was clear and quickly changed out of Reese’s shirt and into my so-called ‘outfit’. It thankfully wasn’t as revealing as I had feared. My chest was a bit too out on display for my liking, but it didn’t appear to leave anything blatantly exposed. The design still would’ve been conservative by Vegas dress standards, though that didn’t say much. Darting over to the phone, I unfurrowed my fingers, palming the note Nick had slipped me. It was a wrinkled up business card with a phone number scribbled on the back. I’d wanted to call it before I got into the shower last night, but I also didn’t want to risk someone possibly tracing the number back here. Since everyone was evidently leaving, I didn’t see the harm now.

  The phone rang, and on the third ring, a familiar voice welcomed me on the other end—but not the voice I’d been prepared for.

  “A truth for a truth, my dear.”

  I slammed the phone back onto the hook.

  Why the hell would Nick give me her number? Why the hell did someone—or rather something—like the Sagax even have a phone?

  A light knock sounded at the door, and I jumped upright. Panicked, I shoved the business card into the leggings of my right boot just as the door opened. Blaine stood on the threshold, about ready to say something, when he took in the sight of me. His lips tipped up in evident amusement. “Not that I don’t appreciate the view, but dare I ask?”

  I gave him a pointed look, and he sighed, knowing full-well who the culprit was for my new apparel.

  “Here.” He slipped off his jacket, but I just scowled, trying to move past him. He cut me off though, draping the leather around my shoulders. I couldn’t help but discern the bullet hole accessorizing the right sleeve. Despite my quiet fury, I still reveled at the heat lingering in the jacket’s lining as he shut the door behind us.

  Val greeted me with a slow, mocking clap as I stomped my way down the stairs.

  “Open the trunk,” Blaine ordered from behind me.

  “Whatever for?” his brother crooned. Receiving no answer, he still laughed from what I could safely assume was Blaine casting him a brutal glare. “Sorry, but the Boss insisted. Her outfit stays right where it is.”

  He enunciated those last four words with particular delight as he opened the back door of the limo to usher me inside. Val’s gaze lingered over my body, simpering with approval as he strolled over to the front passenger door. “And he also encourages you,” he added to his brother, “to put your unique skill set to use, Prince. We’re gonna be on the road for a while.”

  His low laugh was cut short as he shut the front door behind himself, leaving Blaine and me wholly alone. I wasn’t about to ask what that last remark meant, opting to climb in back. As soon as I slid onto the seat, I froze.

  Red rose petals littered the plush extended seats as chilled champagne sat on display by the mini-bar alongside a couple boxes of chocolate covered strawberries. Seeing no sign of me scooting over to accommodate him, Blaine knelt down and stole a look inside, clearly wanting to know what had robbed my attention.

  The privacy divider between the front seat and the back compartment rolled down just long enough for Val to peek inside and purr at our matching scowls, “Enjoy yourselves.”

  The door shut beside me, making me jump. A part of me expected to hear raised voices, expected Blaine to start arguing with his brother. But the other back door opened, and Blaine joined me, settling into the elongated, plush side bench. Seeing as how he was in front of me now, I immediately crossed my legs as he turned to face me, acutely aware that his eyes lingered on the portion of skin displayed between the end of my chemise and the top of my boots. It wasn’t flirtatious. If anything, he looked perplexed.

  “What?” I finally demanded.

  Blaine merely shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just…I’m trying to determine whether or not I want to know if that belongs to you,” he said, gesturing at the scrap of fabric covering my body. “On one hand, if my brother found that someplace else and gave it to you to wear…”

  I hugged his jacket tighter around myself. “It’s mine.”

  “Which brings me to my next dilemma: determining who you bought it for.”

  My cheeks flushed. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, I’ve already seen what kind of clothes you prefer to sleep in, and lacey lingerie isn’t it. So, based on the evidence, I can only infer that you purchased this for someone else’s viewing pleasure.” He didn’t seem particularly pleased at the thought. “I mean, seeing as how I’d know,” he said, tapping the rune on top of his hand, “you haven’t been with Blackburn yet, but that doesn’t rule out intent.”

  “It was for Adam.” The very thought of my ex churned my stomach, even more than Blaine did.

  At least he had a reason. Blaine was damaged. But Adam… He was a good person. A kind person. His father was so consumed by grief and hatred that he would kill the girl who he considered to be his own daughter, and even knowing this, Adam had still handed me over to him. He had let Russell take me to what he knew would be my death, because despite all his kindness, he had given up on me. I had known him my whole life, had loved him for most of it, and yet, as soon as Blaine told him there was no cure, no hope of ridding me of the demonic virus, Adam had made the decision that I was beyond saving.

  Blaine seemed to share in my sour sentiment, his chest heaving as if trying to control a sudden surge of anger.

  “I bought it at the beginning of the summer while I was on vacation. I was saving it for what was supposed to be our one-year anniversary.”

  A little bit of the light returned to Blaine’s eyes as he worked out the details. He knew. I’d never gotten around to wearing it for Adam, seeing as how I broke up with him the week before said anniversar
y. After I met him.

  “I should’ve burned this stupid thing the moment I unpacked it at my aunt’s house,” I murmured.

  “Why did you bother packing it if you seem to hate it so much?”

  “I didn’t realize I had. I kind of left Mystic Harbor in a bit of a rush,” I said, cutting him a glare. “I’d literally just thrown whatever fit into my luggage.”

  We were on the road for a good ten minutes or so before Blaine finally spoke up again, motioning to the vintage t-shirt bundled up in my hands. “You work things out with Blackburn?”

  “Why don’t you ask your brother?” I grumbled, turning my attention outside. The early morning sunlight had been long devoured by a grisly collection of storm clouds rolling in from off the coast. It only appeared more abysmal through the vehicle’s tinted windows as the scenery passed by.

  When I finally looked over at him, Blaine appeared both surprised and pleased. The latter had my fingers curling into fists at my side. There was no way Val didn’t already tell him all about what he witnessed between Reese and me at the motel, but Blaine clearly hadn’t believed it…until now.

  He nodded, more to himself. “It’s for the best.”

  “Of course you would say that.”

  “Indeed I would,” he affirmed. “I don’t trust him.”

  “Yes, and I’m sure that judgment comes from a wholly impartial standpoint.”

  “He’s trying to fix you.”

  “So?”

  “That implies there’s something wrong.”

  “There is,” I growled.

  Blaine’s shoulder shook as he tried to repress a laugh, but it didn’t stop his smile from broadening. “‘You may choose to look the other way, but you can never say again that you did not know.’”

  “Excuse me?”

  “William Wilberforce.”

  “I know the quote,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It was pinned up in Mr. Hopkins’s classroom.”