“Why the fuck are there eyeballs in this?” He muttered, then squinted closer. “And… is that a tongue?”
If he could’ve gone green, he would’ve.
Before I can blink, Malriks there—materialising out of nowhere, ripping the jar straight out of Ronan's hand with a feral growl. “Don't touch my little witch's presents.”
I lift a brow, already regretting opening my mouth about any of this, but Ronan beats me to it.
“Presents? Seriously? Have you ever heard of flowers, you unhinged bastard? Maybe some chocolate? Not dismembered body parts and then leave it where I eat.”
Malrik just smirked like he had been complimented, turning the jar slightly in his hand like it was fine art. He tosses the jar slightly in the air, catching it with a grin that was far too proud of himself.
“I think trophies from your enemies make perfect gifts. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.”
Ronan opened his mouth, but the sicko grabbed another jar, popped the lid, and with zero warning, dumped a handful of bloodied fingers right into Ronan’s lap.
“What the fuck!” He bolts upright so fast he sends the chair clattering backwards—then trips over it anyway, falling to the floor like a damn sack of bricks. Fingers go flying in every direction as Ronan curses about his wrists.
I lean against the doorframe, snorting to keep from losing it completely.
Ronans on the floor, glaring up at Malrik, swiping the scattered fingers off himself with a grimace. “You deranged fuck. Keep your murder confetti to yourself.”
I clear my throat., cutting through the chaos. “As entertaining as this is, we’ve got shit to talk about.” I stroll over and flop into another chair. “Get rid of those jars.”
Malrik just scoffs, clearly unimpressed. “Thought you’d appreciate them. They’re from vampires after all.”
I lean back, foot bouncing. “Why the hell are you, of all people, killing vampires?”
He grins, his tongue running across the slight fangs he has, and it pisses me off. “Because, you dense bastard, vampires want Ravena. So, I kill them. Simple as that.”
Who the fuck is Ravena?
Ronan catches the look on my face and settles back in his chair with a wince. “Cherry’s Ravena.”
I blink, letting it sink in. So that's her name. Of course, it's something pretty, just like her.
I really need to stop thinking about how pretty she is.
“So, what now?” I ask, eyeing them both. “Vespera is going to find us sooner or later. And without temptress, we’re dead men walking. Plus, we need her to pull that dark magic out of Darian.”
Malrik let us in on what's been happening to Darian, which finally explains his recent… odd behaviour. Another thing I owe that little temptress a thanks for. She's risking her neck to save him, ever after treating her like shit over the past few months.
Malriks' eyes flare bright red at the mention of Darian—and ugly, molten light that makes the room colder. His shoulders bunch, a vein throbbing at his temple, and the smile on his face curdles into something far worse.
He leans forward, “That fucker is lucky my little witch has a heart. If it were up to me, I’d have ripped his damn heart out ages ago.”
“Easy, Malrik.” Ronan snaps, his voice low but firm. “You might hate him, but he’s our family. And don’t forget he’s infected because of Vespera. So cut the guy some slack, we don’t even know how much it’s affecting him.”
I could feel my patience slipping fast—we weren’t going to get anywhere with Malrik and Ronan bickering like children. Time was running out, and we needed to act fast.
“Malrik, you knew what to do with her magic. Any ideas on how to destroy dark magic?”
He tilts his head, messy black hair falling into his eyes. “Dark magic is rare as hell—ancient, older than most histories, whispered about in stories you tell to scare children. Nobody's ever seen it. It's practically a myth. And destroying it? I don't even know if it can be destroyed, let alone how.”
The weight of that settled in the room, and I felt the cold knot of worry tighten in my gut. We were in deep, and the clock was ticking.
The sun was creeping over the horizon, and the twins would probably be up any minute now, well, not Drew. Someone needed to check on temptress—and I desperately needed a drink, or I was gonna lose what little grip I had left.
“Well, isn’t this just fucking perfect,” Ronan pulls at the ends of his hair. “Darian’s vanished, Cherry won’t wake up, Malriks collecting severed limbs like trading cards, and you’re one second away from snapping our necks for a drop of alcohol, and the twins—fuck.”
