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

by Victoria Evers

  That everlasting warmth that promised me he was near…it leeched from my chest. The life drained so quickly from his eyes as he crumpled over into the ground, and I sobbed. My whole body convulsed as I buried my face, gnashing out an inconsolable scream that broke through the pain tearing into my lungs.

  I was dying.

  Not my body.

  But my soul. It was being ripped in half.

  Chapter 33

  The Wars To Come

  The trees clattered all around us as harsh December winds came barreling down over the field. Debris and dead foliage blew across the ground by us, but the atmosphere within the circle of cloaked men remained unaffected by the blustery airstreams.

  But the ground rumbled beneath us.

  Pale blue lights set the forestlands on fire as a blast wave suddenly hurled out across the field. All the Reapers standing outside the circle were knocked off their feet, their weapons sent flying into the brush. In seconds, dozens of men stormed the field, half of their arms lit with primed runes.

  “Your magic won’t do you any good!” the Irishman cackled. Sure enough, with every passing step, the Dark Mages’ runes petered out more and more. With the Sanctus blade here, their runes were useless.

  “That’s why it pays to have a Plan B.” Val emerged from the group, taking center stage, with a rifle in hand. He staggered with each step, his face a painful collection of bruises and swelling. “Don’t bring magic to a gunfight.”

  My father cursed under his breath as Reynolds rushed to his side. He tried to make a move towards me, but bullets whizzed through the air, cutting him off. Samael glowered down at Reese. “Tell your father next time you see him that we still have a score to settle.”

  “Do it!” Nathan ordered, looking behind me. Samael grabbed hold of him, and in a split second, they both vanished in a mist of black smoke.

  The Irishman threw up some kind of invisible shield around the remaining members of his crew, stopping the bullets in midflight. The air rippled. “Well, fuck me.”

  His wall wouldn’t hold. He barked at the others to go before he grabbed me. “Have fun with Lover Boy,” he purred. Before I could process the remark, he pounced on Reese, yanking him off the ground. An odd flat stone rested in his palm, and he pressed it to Reese’s neck. Despite his grogginess, Reese screamed as the rock turned bright orange, searing his skin like a hot poker. The Irishman gave him a parting wink before darting off into the shadows of the woods behind us.

  With no one holding me back, I clawed my way up to my feet, falling down beside Blaine the moment I reached him. My wrists were still bound, making it nearly impossible to turn him over onto his back. Seeing the quiver still running through his body, my runes flared to life, connecting with every cell in my body, becoming one with me. I snapped the ropes right off my wrists and heaved him over.

  Blood.

  There was blood everywhere. All over my hands, all over my clothes.

  My vision.

  I screamed for his brother, watching Blaine’s eyes flutter as his body convulsed. I held him in my arms, trying to prop his neck up enough to help slow the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay… You’re going to be okay…” No, no, no, no. There was too much blood… “VAL!”

  The gunfire had ceased, but magic tore through the field, taking hold of every last Reaper and witch who hadn’t yet managed to flee. All the cloaked figures, both men and women, dropped their extinguished candles and crumpled over as they grabbed their heads. They pleaded for mercy, but Val turned his knuckled fists, and an aching snap resonated as each of the witch’s necks wrenched to an unnatural angle.

  The coven lifelessly collapsed to the ground.

  “VAL!”

  The Mage finally heard me over the commotion, whirling around to find his brother cradled in my arms. He tried hurrying to my side, but his leg was crooked at such a grotesque angle. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t feel pain. The limb refused to cooperate as he dragged himself over to me.

  I needed to transfer my energy to Blaine, but how? The only thing I read about it was in that journal, and it didn’t give the necessary incantation. “What is the phrase?” I screamed.

  “‘Dare enim vos anima mea.’” Val reached me a moment later, and actually staggered back at the sight of his brother. “Kat, don’t—”

  But I did. I pressed my lips to Blaine’s, replaying the words over and over in my head. His shaking began to subside, but his heartbeat only slowed. He was slipping away. I finally pried my mouth away, choking on the blood that he’d coughed up. “It’s not working!”

  “Kat, I’m sorry. It’s too late—”

  Mate.

  He was my mate.

  “When the Crown Prince of Lust chooses a mate, his Mark is the source of their bond.” That’s what Reese had said.

  But which mark? The mating bond? The tattoo on my ring finger was still severed.

  The training room. I could feel his energy when I touched his runes. His Mark. The Mark of Sitri.

  I gripped his arm. Where the energy had once been magnetic now rested a weak hum, but it was still there. Everything around me suddenly felt so far away as instinct seized control of my body. Val muttered something, but I didn’t hear it. Still gripping Blaine’s arm, I turned him over.

  He wasn’t breathing.

  He’d gone holy still.

  No, no, no, no, no. Stay with me.

  I yanked the fabric away from his neck, finding the scarred marks I’d given him. Without hesitation or assistance, my fangs jutted free, slamming down into his flesh.

  ‘Dare enim vos anima mea.’

  ‘Dare enim vos anima mea.’

  I wasn’t going to allow him to suffer in Purgatory. Not for me. Not after everything he had done.

  I give my soul unto you.

  The world around me fell away, dimming until all I could see was black.

  “Kat!” Someone was shaking me. “Stop! You’re going to kill yourself!”

  I didn’t dare move, even as the voices dulled to hollow whispers in my ears. I didn’t dare stop, even as I felt my pounding heart slow, felt myself slipping free from my body…until I was yanked back.

  My fangs. They’d been pried out of Blaine’s neck. I could faintly hear someone scream, not sure if it was me as hands ripped me away from him. Fighting my way through the darkness, I tried to find him again, but I couldn’t feel anything. Not his body, not the hands on me, not the frozen grass beneath my fingers. I could feel nothing.

  Chapter 34

  Rise Up

  The pain was the first thing to register, even before I managed to open my eyes. Every inch of me felt like I’d been hit by a car. My muscles ached without movement as I remained lying down, and my head only throbbed harder as bright lights poured into my eyes. I pressed them shut again just as fingers combed through my hair, cleaning the stray strands from my face.

  Despite the pain of enduring the brightness, I forced my eyes back open, finding a gentle amber gaze staring back at me.

  “Hey, Princess.”

  The walls were starch white, along with the sheets and furniture. Everything was so suspiciously sterile. I tried lifting my hand to his, but something spiny shifted in my arm, making me wince. I looked down, seeing a needle shoved into my vein. Blinking through the grogginess, reality seeped back in as I took in my sights more clearly. There were monitors and machines all around me. I was in a hospital room.

  “What…” My throat was raw, making me cough on my dry vocal chords. “What-what happened?”

  A head of blonde hair appeared on my other side, and I nearly gave myself whiplash as I turned to face them.

  Wrong.

  It was all wrong.

  It was the wrong shade.

  Carly brushed her butterscotch bangs out of her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  NO.

  Tears whelmed up inside me as my chest caved in. Reese sat beside me, but I still didn’t feel that warmth. I didn’t feel his warmth
. I didn’t feel him. I felt empty.

  “Where is he?”

  The two just glanced at one another, uneasy.

  “Where is he?” No one answered, and I suddenly ripped the IV from my arm.

  “Sweetie…” Carly tried coaxing me back down, but I slapped her hands away, wrestling out of the hospital bed.

  I fell over the guardrails, attempting to land on my feet, but I was too weak. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the linoleum floor. Reese and Carly immediately came to my sides, but all I could do was scream at them to get away from me as I coiled into myself and wept. Hands took hold of my shoulders, and I batted at them, only to be pried off the floor and swept into someone’s arms.

  Worn black and white leather pressed against my cheek. With the inhale of cigarette smoke and cologne, I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

  Val.

  He was carrying me, back to bed I was sure. I just clung to him, and he only held me closer. It wasn’t until I looked over his shoulder that I realized he’d carried me someplace else entirely. He turned the corner of the hall, where we passed a large sign that read Critical Care Unit.

  Someone said something to him about visiting hours, but they didn’t push further as he whispered something back.

  And it hit me.

  It was barely detectable, that flicker of warmth in my chest, but it was there. Val turned, letting me face a large sliding glass door. It was closed, but the curtains inside weren’t drawn.

  A warm kiss pressed to my temple. “He’ll pull through,” Val murmured.

  There were wires and tubes and so many machines. His throat was wrapped in layers and layers of gauze and bandages, but he was alive. Blaine was alive.

  “Though, he’ll have one hell of a scar,” his brother added. Indeed it would, considering it had been the same blade that had marred them both before. “It might do him some good. He was a little too pretty before.”

  Amid my tears, I laughed. Actually laughed.

  It took me two whole minutes to discover my bed had been implemented by the Spanish Inquisition. That much I knew for sure. The damn thing was one of those stupid “smart beds” that adjusted itself every time you shifted, and it only got harder and harder, pressing up into all the wrong spots. I never had back pain before, but after an hour of laying in it, I was only in more agony. Plus, when Val returned me to my room, the nurse wasn’t particularly pleased to see that I’d taken out my IV. And after what I did, giving up nearly all my energy, I apparently didn’t have enough to help me heal any faster. With the bruises staining my arm, it felt like someone jammed a pencil into my veins instead of a needle when the nurse reinserted the IV.

  Thankfully, the hospital outside of the ICU didn’t have set visiting hours, so Carly and Reese stayed by my bedside while Val continued to make his rounds, leaving every half hour to check on Blaine. He assured me since angels were forbidden from being seen by humans, my father wouldn’t be able to even enter the hospital. And no one was stupid enough to think they’d be able to waltz into a heavily watched care unit and kill a patient without being caught, including a Reaper or even a crazy Irishman. But it didn’t hurt to keep an eye out.

  “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, Doll Face,” affirmed Val at the top of the hour. “Any requests from the vending machines?”

  “Anything with caffeine,” said Carly.

  “Anything edible,” I added.

  Reese just shook his head.

  The Dark Mage bowed, giving me a wink upon departure. I wanted to plead with him to stay, if only just to save me from the awkwardness that always ensued when he left. Carly and Reese would just sit there, attempting to make small talk, but it was painfully obvious. They were trying to say anything else except the one thing they really wanted to. Why had I done it?

  Apparently, I’d been unconscious for over five hours before I woke up in the hospital. And during that time, Blaine’s own recovery was rather touch-and-go. Because of this, Val continued slicing the rune on my ring finger so that I wasn’t bound to the mating bond, just in case things with his brother took a turn for the worst. And this was something he’d made a point of explaining to Reese and Carly.

  Which begged the big question: If I knew my life wasn’t tethered with his, why didn’t I let Blaine die? Or better yet, why would I risk my own life in a pathetic attempt to save his? If he was gone, half my problems would have disappeared in an instant. My hex would be null and void, Raelynd would have no further use of me if I didn’t have a mate, and I would no longer be the next Princess of Hell.

  How could I explain that Blaine wasn’t as awful as everyone thought, or that he hadn’t intentionally killed me? How could I explain that I saw a part of myself in him? He didn’t have a choice in what he had become, same as me, and we’d both been abandoned and brutalized by the people who claimed to love us. How could I explain everything without sounding incredibly naïve or brainwashed?

  I couldn’t.

  So I didn’t.

  I just lay there in the unbearable bed, pretending not to notice the uncomfortable glances and awkward pauses in conversation as everyone tried to find something else to talk about.

  Reese rubbed an aggravated hand against the dressing bandaged on the side of his neck.

  “It still hurts?” I asked.

  He nodded. “The damn thing won’t stop burning.”

  “I thought you guys were supposed to heal, like, superfast,” said Carly.

  That very fact had been clearly bothering him since I’d awoken. All his other injuries had already healed hours ago, almost immediately after he regained his lost energy. He started peeling off the tape that secured the dressing and headed into the bathroom.

  “Should you be doing that?” Carly asked. “I mean, it was pretty nasty when you came here; looked like someone literally set your skin on fire. It probably just needs a little more time.”

  “What the hell…?”

  Carly and I both stole worried glances at one another, and she immediately helped me out of bed as we hurried to the bathroom. Reese had pulled the entire bandage off, and not a millimeter of his skin was still scorched. But that wasn’t what any of us were focusing on. In place of the once burned flesh rested a perfectly polished tattoo…of a snake wrapped around two crossed swords, appearing to consume a flame.

  “Dare I ask why you’re all in here?” drawled Val, appearing in the bathroom doorway. One look at Reese’s neck, and his eyes went as wide as our own. “Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”

  Reese’s hand fell away from the mark as he staggered back from the mirror. “I’ve been hexed.”

  Chapter 35

  Night of the Hunter

  It didn’t make any sense. The sigil branded on Reese was used for summoning and wielding power, and it was always used on surfaces like floors and grass, so it could generate portals. What the hell would it do when imprinted onto a person’s flesh?

  By morning, Blaine still hadn’t woken up. Without Doctor Madsen, and the fact that Val had never heard of anything like this before, I only had one other person to turn to. If my calculations were correct, I still had a few questions saved in my piggy bank, and it was time to cash in on them.

  I couldn’t remember the Sagax’s number, and if I spent another minute trapped in that hospital bed, I was going to Hulk out, runes or not. With Val’s assistance, I ‘persuaded’ my doctors to release me and had him drop me off at the manor so I could retrieve the business card Nick had given me.

  Since I’d lost my jacket after having to abandon it outside the van last night, Val had been kind enough to let me commandeer his, something he apparently had never done before. The leather racing jacket obviously held a lot of sentimental value, another sign that he hadn’t completely shut off his humanity. As we headed into the foyer, I thanked him and returned the trusty jacket before making my way upstairs. It had started snowing outside, so I could only pray that Reese had grabbed another one of my wa
rmer jackets from my aunt’s house as I perused the suitcases he’d packed for me.

  The first two bags were a bust, so I moved on to the third, unzipping the main compartment. I peeled open the cover, finding a black and white apparel box sitting on top, its red silk bow flattened from the compression of the other luggage. Blaine’s gift. The one I’d never opened. I hadn’t told Reese about it, because I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t entertain Blaine’s head games by seeing what was inside.

  A corner of the envelope tucked beneath the ribbon poked out, and I at last surrendered to my curiosity. I expected to find the same letter inside, which had simply said, ‘Bygones?’

  Instead, I found a piece of stationery written in inked calligraphy.

  “Benjamin Franklin once said to never ruin an apology with an excuse. For the moment, I cannot give you reasons for my actions, and I know what I have done cannot be forgiven. But if you let me, I would like to return what is yours, even if I can only do so in the smallest way…”

  I unfastened the bow and slid the ribbons off the box. Being as how I’d thrown it out the window and into the side of Blaine’s house, the crinkled corners of the box put up a little bit of a fight as I struggled to pull up the lid.

  I laughed.

  Inside rested my beloved leather jacket that Daniel had taken off me when I was unconscious the night of my Great Rite. I’d thought I’d lost it for good, but its vintage studded shoulders and familiar smell greeted me as I pulled it out of the box. I gasped, spotting the white fabric underneath. I’d spent hours trying to find the shirt online, but no retailer had it. Only the little vintage shop I found in New York had ever carried it, and they were long out of stock. Even if it was a little battered, I would have kept the one I already had, but considering the holes and the cuts and the amount of blood I’d accumulated, it was fit for nothing but the trash. Yet, a strikingly identical off-the-shoulder Sex Pistols tee sat inside the box, and it just so happened to be in my size.