by Maya Daniels
15
Groaning, I swat the hand away that’s insistently slapping my face. It doesn’t hurt but it stings and it’s annoying. When that doesn’t help, I roll tucking my chin as close to my chest as I can. A hand grabs my shoulder, yanking me to my back and a loud slap echoes in my ears. My cheek is burning.
“No … nope! Wake up, Chicca.” I hear Myst through the fog in my head. “No time for napping.” She keeps slapping my face.
“Stop that.” With a hiss, I jerk my legs up, flipping around and ending in a crouch.
“Okay, good.” She grins at me. “You are still kicking.”
“I’m going to kill you now.” Everything comes back. She locked me in here while releasing Zoltan from the chains.
“Whatever for?” Myst looks taken aback. “I admit if I knew you were this stupid I would’ve stuck around, but all is good now. I got the hunk stashed back.”
I blink at her.
Leaning down to get closer to my face, her smile slips away. “I thought you are smart and would use your brain, Chicca. All you needed was to knock him down and feed him some blood. He was drained enough to be an easy job for you.” Shaking her head in disappointment, she grimaces. “You were thinking with your vagina. How disappointing … No male is good enough to die for just because he gets you all hot and bothered.” Straightening, she rolls her shoulders while muttering under her breath. “Trust me, I know firsthand.”
“What are you talking about?” I have to press one knee on the floor when my head swims and the room tilts. “You left me here so I’d turn feral, too. Your plan is not working …” I trail off.
My head turns and I see Zoltan sprawled on the ground like someone dragged him there before raising the bars of his cage. Chills dance over my spine remembering the stuttering of my heart. I should be dead; Zoltan is not himself and there is no way he stopped to spare me on his own. All he wants is to kill and slake his bloodlust. His eyes tell that story.
My eyes flick back to Myst.
“You thought I wanted you dead.” It’s not a question and her voice is flat.
I just stare at her. Still dressed in the white clothing of the hunters, she unnerves me with those eyes of hers. There is something behind them, lurking and watching me through her. Having the same thing inside myself, it shouldn’t disturb me … but this is different. I’m not sure she’s even aware of it.
“If I wanted you dead, I would’ve killed you a while ago,” she points out and I almost laugh. “I don’t need anyone else doing my dirty work. When I want you gone, you’ll know it.” Her narrowed eyes tell me she is completely serious.
Standing up and practically looming over her petite frame, I take stock of my body. With how much blood Zoltan took from me, I shouldn’t be able to open my eyes, little less move around. Ignoring the narrowing of Myst’s eyes, I scan the room. It’s just the two of us here and Zoltan still unconscious behind iron bars.
“You gave me your blood.” I search her face but this time she finds everything else fascinating and won’t look at me.
“We don’t have time for sentimentalities, Chicca.” Wrapping that attitude around her like a cloak, she cocks her hip. “It’s just blood and I have plenty of it. We are here to mess those fuckers up. So, let’s get on with the program, shall we?”
If I know anything in my messed-up life, it’s that supernaturals guard their blood more than they guard their lives. Myst herself was the first to point out she doesn’t like anyone chewing on her—as she put it so eloquently the first time I saw her. If I’m being honest with myself, I probably wouldn’t offer my own unless it was for Astara or Zoltan. Which brings back the memory of him draining me an inch from my life with absolutely no recognition of who I am in his gaze. My questions for Myst can wait.
“Will he be okay?” Turning to Zoltan, my heart skips a beat.
He hasn’t moved at all; the longer strands of his hair are plastered on his forehead and blood is smearing his face where I broke his nose. With a slack jaw, his lips are parted and his fangs are still extended, curling his upper lip slightly over them. Only the barely-there rising and falling of his chest tells me he is still alive. Alive, but not necessarily cured of being feral.
“He will be okay for now, as long as we don’t let anyone get through that door.” Myst pulls my attention back to her. “Your backup should be here soon. While I was skulking around the mansion, I found out they didn’t expect to have a fight on their hands today.”
“We have a chance of getting out of here with minimal damage you mean?” Glancing at Zoltan, my stomach clenches painfully. “The rest of us, I mean.”
“The hunk will be as good as new before you know it.” Scowling at me, she watches me as if she’s judging my sanity. I wonder about that myself at the moment. “You just make sure to bleed as little as you can and get your ass out of here.”
“What about you?” At her glower, I chuckle. “I can feel your blood inside me, Myst. I’ll take a wild guess and say you are not exactly a typical female either. I’m starting to think I should make sure you are out of here faster than myself.”
“I made sure you lived.” Before I blink, she’s in my face, one dagger pressed tightly under my chin. “As payment for my generosity, you keep your opinions to yourself and you never mention this to anyone. Are we clear?” The blade presses harder on my skin, not breaking it but close to nicking it. “It never happened.”
That thing inside her—whatever it is— is clearly visible and thrumming with eagerness. I can’t decide if it wants me to pretend this hasn’t happened or to shove her away so it can come out to fight. My own power finally stirs in my chest, excited at the prospect of facing something unknown. That’s when her irises darken to swallow her pupils and two dark, bottomless pits meet my gaze. My insides shrivel and numbness spreads like wildfire through me.
“Crystal clear.” The words pass through my unmoving lips.
“Cool.” The switch in her personality is flipped just like that and she grins again. “We should maybe chain him up again just for pretense? If anyone sneaks in, they’ll think it’s nothing—”
A large boom shakes the ground and walls around us. We both stagger on our feet, arms jerking to the sides to keep our balance. Another explosion follows, and this one is stronger than the first. Dust and plaster rain over our heads as I turn to look at Zoltan making sure nothing falls on top of him.
“The cavalry has arrived.” The drumming in my chest matches the excitement in Myst’s voice, the giddiness of an upcoming fight spreading through me when I look at the eagerness on her face.
“They’ll be here any second.” My fingers twitch with the need for a weapon. “Roberti won’t leave us on the off chance that we’ll stay docile here.”
“I think they’ll be too busy to be able to check on you two right now.” Rushing up the stairs, Myst presses her ear against the closed door. “That’s not to say hunters won’t be swarming this room.” Turning to look at me standing at the bottom of the stairs, she gives me a once over. “I need to go check on things. You’ll be okay?”
“I need a weapon.” Shouts almost drown my words.
“You are a weapon, Chicca. Stop thinking what’s right or wrong and just kill anyone that tries to walk through this door.” She is still watching me like I might not be all there.
“I’ll make sure I do that even if it’s you coming back.” Frustrated from her scrutiny and pissed off at myself for getting in a situation like this, I glare at her.
“If that’s how I go, I deserve to be killed.” A wide smile spreads across her face and she winks at me before slinking out the door.
The female definitely has some screws loose in her head. The house rocks again, sending me stumbling into the nearest wall. Right. I just need to make sure no one is left standing if they open that door. I can totally do this. My head jerks around the room in search of something I can use to fight before I stop myself. What in the worlds am I doing? Zoltan is safe for no
w, protected by the iron bars of his prison, and here I am looking for something to knock people out when I need to kill whoever comes to check on us. Perhaps Myst isn’t far off the mark by thinking I’m stupid.
Grabbing hold of the banister, I pull myself to the side so I’ll be seen when the door opens. Pressing my back to the wall, I glance down and frown at the stupid dress. Taking a fistful of fabric, I yank on it and tear it in half. Another hard pull and a long section falls to the ground, leaving me with just enough material to cover the tops of my thighs. At least I can use my legs without tripping on the damn thing.
Zoltan groans softly and my heart jumps to the back of my throat. If he is still feral there will be no hiding for me. I shiver at the memory of his snarls while he watches me with his red eyes. Luckily, he only twitches but stays down. Thumping the back of my head on the wall behind me, I try to clear it. Get it together, Franky. You found him, now you just need to get the hell out of here. You can do this. The pep talk helps steady my trembling hands. The deep breath I attempt to take gets stuck in my lungs when the door above me opens and two sets of feet beat a rhythm on the stairs.
My body jerks when a pulse of power bursts out of the center of my chest unexpectedly. It’s never come like this before with no warning, and for a split second I wonder if that’s because of Myst giving me her blood. Then the white clothing of a hunter comes into view and all thought leaves my mind.
I move.
With one hand still gripping the banister, I swing my leg and catch the hunter on the side of his head. He obviously doesn’t expect it, his body hitting the opposite wall so hard his head makes a horrible cracking sound before he drops in a heap on the floor. I’m already moving, spinning around and coming face to face with the second one, who is standing frozen two steps from reaching the bottom.
His eyes narrow to slits, hatred burning in them.
The hunter throws his body at me so he can tackle me to the ground. His hands are empty of weapons, so I take advantage of it and, instead of fighting him, I slam both palms to the center of his chest. With a comical widening of his eyes, he tries to spin midair to avoid my grip but he only makes it easier for me. My knees bend slightly. As soon as my palms connect, I push with everything in me, twisting around while guiding more than flinging him over my head. His fingers latch onto my upper arms, but the gravity is working against him. I jerk him by handfuls of his clothing, swinging him right at the wall a few feet away.
Red blood splatters like a bucket of paint thrown at the yellowing plaster on the wall where his face hits it. My gut clenches tightly but the door is opening again and I turn to face the new threat. Roars and screams are much louder now that I’m not closed in where the reinforced walls hide them from me. What in fates name is happening out there? It doesn’t sound like they aren’t ready for a fight. There are way too many voices for it to be the backup Fenrir and Leo organized. Fear chokes me while I stare at the stunned hunter who is standing at the top of the stairs staring at me.
Pushing off the balls of my feet, I sprint up the stairs. No way can I sit here waiting for them to come to me. My friends, the people I care about are probably dying out there. I don’t want anyone to get near Zoltan but that doesn’t mean I can’t be outside that door helping them. I’ll just stand guard in the hallway. All these thoughts zip through my head as I reach the hunter who is pulling a dagger from the small of his back. Horror stabs me in the chest for a second before I see there is no black sludge on the glinting blade. No potions for this asshole tonight.
Coming from below him gives me a chance to tuck my shoulder under his ribcage and barrel through the partly-open door while carrying his weight with me. Searing pain makes me grind my teeth when his hand slashes down to split the skin on my bare back. Pushing up, I fling him off me and down the long stairs, a pained shout and the thumping of his body rolling down the last sounds I hear before silence takes over. A quick look shows me he will not be getting up, not ever. His head is twisted in an unnatural angle after all, and there’s no coming back from that.
With an internal shrug, I face the hallway.
It’s chaos.
16
My fingers tighten on the doorframe when I bend my upper body to avoid the flying shuriken passing an inch from my face. The deadly metal star glints ominously in front of my eyes before hitting something to my right and shattering it. The air warms to dangerous levels, forcing me to take a step back until I’m inside the door. Poking my head out, I try to see what’s going on.
My jaw drops.
A mage dressed in the academy uniform is standing in the middle of the hallway to my left. His arms are stretched in front of him, his hands moving in circles while his fingers twitch. Magic swirls around him like a tornado with each move he makes. Face intense with concentration, he ignores everything around him. A demon guard is spinning circles around the mage, his sword slicing the air and protecting both of them from the blades thrown in their direction. The mage stops his frantic movements, pulling both arms towards his chest just as the demon steps behind him.
The mage’s hands fling outward and flames burst from them like an inferno. The heat is so much I’m surprised my eyebrows are still there. I have to clutch the banister so I don’t fall down the stairs when my foot steps back and only my toes find purchase. My heart jumps in my throat for a split second until I’m sure I’m not going down. The flames blaze like a rushing river for a long time, searing my lungs with each breath I take.
And then everything stops.
I blink at the blackened walls opposite me in stunned silence. What the hell just happened? I’m still stupefied when the mage and the demon jog in front of me, moving down the hall with somber looks on their faces.
“Drake.” They both nod in my direction, not pausing for a single moment.
I’ve seen their faces before, but I don’t know their names. I wasn’t aware any of them were close to Fenrir or Leo. Peering out, I see their backs just as they round a corner and disappear from view. The hallway is burned to hell and three charred bodies are just a pile on the ground.
The sound of fighting comes from all sides, but here in my bubble of death where I stand with the stench of burned flesh, I find a moment of peace. I have no intention of letting anyone get close to Zoltan again, so I push the door open a sliver so I can catch any movement in the hallway. I breathe through my mouth, avoiding the cloying scent so I don’t gag.
That’s when I hear him.
“Ms. Drake, I suggest you get down here.” Zoltan’s voice is raspy, and it sends a thrill through my body, which is a stupid reaction considering the situation, but nothing is ever different when the vampire is around. I have accepted the fact that I’m a moron when it comes to Zoltan. I mean, the jerk nearly killed me, but somehow he still has the balls to call me “Ms. Drake” again. Go figure …
Pressing a thumb and a forefinger to the bridge of my nose, I pray to stay calm and not start cursing him to hell.
“Now, Francesca.” The authority in his deep voice stiffens my shoulders.
Nudging the door closed with my shoulder, I descend the stairs slowly, telling myself to stay calm and collected. My palms are already sweaty, and my stupid heart is making me lightheaded from how fast it’s galloping in my chest. Goosebumps spread like a rash over my arms and legs when he growls impatiently. I guess I’m not moving fast enough for him.
Jerk.
“Look who’s awake.” I hate that I sound choked up and that tears blur his face for a second. “You have a nice nap?”
My chest feels too tight when his familiar blue gaze connects to mine. I find it difficult to breathe, but not because his eyes are narrowed on me and he looks furious. He is alive and back to his normal self. If anyone would’ve told me I’d miss his arrogant attitude, I would’ve told them they were nuts. Yet here I am fighting tears because he is glaring at me like he wants to throttle me for daring to keep him waiting a second too long.
I’m stupid, I
know.
“Release me.” His growl vibrates deep in my own chest, the order loud and clear.
The blood is still smeared over his porcelain skin, which makes him look terrifying when paired with the glow coming from his gaze. Dark strands of his hair are sticking every which way, clumped in places where his fingers have pushed it out of his face. He should look ridiculous or like a murderer. A pure blood. My worst nightmare. Zoltan looks raw, wild and I’ve never seen him look more appealing. Everything I am reacts to him and it’s completely out of my control.
He smirks.
Seeing that familiar tilt on one side of his full lips flipflops my insides and makes me sway where I stand across the iron bars. We stare at each other and the fight, the cage, the bodies … all of it is forgotten. His gaze travels the length of my body and heats as it moves. Pebbles rise in its wake like he is physically touching me, at least until his eyes land on mine again. For a split second in time and space, it’s just him and me. It feels monumental, but for the life of me I don’t understand why. The glow in his eyes swirls and intensifies. His pupils pulse and stretch into shapes of the sun—something I’ve seen before and will never forget—spreading over his irises for a moment before retracting. I take a startled step back when they flip to the vertical slits I’ve seen in my own eyes before returning to his Daywalker shape.
The world bursts to life with colors I see when my own pupils change, the magic inside me thrumming through my blood. It vibrates like a deep purr of excitement or contentment, but I’m not exactly sure which. Zoltan cocks his head slightly, the quirk of his lips growing. It’s there for a moment and gone the next.
