Chapter Thirty-Four
Zane
I glanced at the clock on the wall, then scraped the spatula through the mixture of olive oil, garlic, and onion in the pan.
Zebulon’s favorite chef stood off to the side with a frown marring her matronly features, not liking my presence inherkitchen. But I wanted to make dinner tonight. And she needed to get used to sharing her space with me, since I was moving in permanently.
This area partly belonged to me now.
Zebulon didn’t visit his kitchens often, preferring his house staff to handle everything for him. However, I wasn’t him. And Ilikedto cook.
Besides, tonight was special. Our first evening as a unit inourhome. After spending the week packing and moving, it felt nice to finally be fin—
A blast of energy stole the air from my lungs, Lord Zebulon’s approach blackened with fury and all-consumingpain.
I dropped the spatula and turned toward the source, only he didn’t appear in the kitchen.
Upstairs.
I didn’t think, I ran, my blood turning colder with each step.Something’s very wrong.
The Dargarian bodyguards were all moving as well, their boots pounding up the stairs as they went straight for Zebulon’s bed chambers.
“Move!” I demanded, trying to fight my way through them.
Another pulse of power left Zebulon as he yelled for me to enter, and told the others to “Get the fuck out.”
Invisible ice drizzled through the air, the Dargarians seeming to freeze rather than obey.
I knocked a few of them over in my path, jolting them from their stupor. Then they scampered out of my way, bowing and taking up defensive positions in the hallway, and finally granting my entry through the wide open double-doors.
I burst inside to find Zebulon bending over the bed to gently lay Guinevere atop the covers.
A very bloody, unconscious Guinevere.
Fear settled deep in my bones as I charged across the room and demanded, “What the fuck happened?”
“Creek.” Zebulon snarled the name as if it were a curse word.
“Creek? I thought he was…?” I trailed off, thinking back to the conversation we’d had about Creek, how it’d been his surveillance that Gleason brought to us.
But if Creek was part of this, then what about all the demons…?
I kneeled on the bed beside Gwen, taking her head in my hands. She felt clammy and feverish, and her eyes seemed to roll back into her head. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Silver poisoning,” Zebulon said darkly, ripping her already torn shirt completely off. An angry open wound leeched blood near the hollow next to her collarbone. “I dug out the bullet and Ashmedai… drained her of the silver fragments.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Drainedher?”
“Telekinesis. He used it to… extract the poison.”
“Fuck,” I breathed, noting her pale skin and waning aura. “Fuck. What…?How?”
“I was almost too late,” Zebulon continued, his anger hot and very present. “He nearly shot her again, but Ragus… took him down.”
“Ragus?” I repeated, not understanding.
“He had a Tracker on Creek.” His dark eyes met mine. “The Tracker called him, saying he thought something was off. Ragus arrived, and when he heard the gunshot, he reacted.”
