Not a chance.
I didn’t think, I reacted. Heat surged through my veins, my magic roaring to life as I thrust my hand forward. Flames erupted, scorching through the air before engulfing him in a fiery inferno. His agonised screams split the battlefield as his flesh blackened and peeled, the scent of burning vampire thick and acrid. The vampire collapsed to the ground in a heap, but before I could move to kill another, a searing pain exploded in my skull. My vision blurred, a crucial second too long—long enough for two vampires to seize my arms in an iron grip. My daggers slipped from my fingers, hitting the snow-covered dirt with a dull clatter.
Shit, my enchanted dagger.
Magnus stood before me, his expression unreadable, but the satisfaction clung to him like a second skin. He thought he had won.
Xarothars' roar split the air, a thunderous sound of rage and desperation, but a sharp knee rammed into my stomach before I could call on what little magic I had left. The breath was ripped away from my lungs, pain blooming in my ribs as I doubled over, only for rough fingers to tangle in my hair and wrench my head back.
The vampires restraining me dug their sharp nails into my skin, and I clenched my teeth, forcing back a hiss as my eyes darted past Magnus—four more of his soldiers were closing in on Xarothar. Panic flared. I tried to summon a blast of magic to send him flying before they could reach him, but my power sputtered and flickered uselessly inside me.
I was too weak. Too fucking weak because my mother had locked away my magic, fearing that, if fully unleashed, it would be the very thing to doom me.
Now, not having my magic would doom us both.
Xarothar lashed out, his tail—now lined with sharp, growing spikes—slamming one vampire into a tree with a sickening crunch. Another lunged for him, but he managed to unleash a weak stream of fire, igniting the creature's flesh.
A sudden blow cracked across my face, whipping my head to the side. Before I could recover, tasting blood in my mouth, invisible restraints bound me against the tree, locking me into place. My breath came in sharp gasps as I struggled, but it was no use.
Vampires don’t have magic.
They aren’t supposed to have magic.
Magnus watched me with amusement as his nails traced my throat. I shuddered at the feel of them; they were sharp enough to break skin. A slow trickle of blood slid down my neck.
“A gift,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk.
“A new little trick from our king, and we could be so much more… if we had you.”
“Fuck you.” I spat in his face.
It slid down his lips. His tongue flicked out, tasting it like it was something sweet. Lust burned behind his eyes.
“You’ve got quite a mouth on you. So did your mother. Look where that got her.”
I smiled coldly.
“Yeah? And you’ve got quite the face for stabbing. Guess we all have our talents.” His fingers pinched my lips shut, getting closer to my face as I struggled.
“My brother and I have missed you,” he said with a sickening smile. “Alaric was heartbroken he couldn’t be here to collect you himself, but don’t worry… you’ll be ours soon enough.”
My stomach turned, bile rising.
Over my dead fucking body.
I tried to ignore the ache in my body as I thrashed to move away from him, pulling my head back so he was no longer touching me.
“We will have so much fun with you,” he licked his lips, eyes tracing my body with desire, and I felt utterly sick. Not only would I be imprisoned by the king, but I would also be used by Magnus and his sick brother.
Panic flared in my chest, but it wasn’t mine.
Xarothar.
I turned my head just in time to see another vampire raising a blade, aiming straight for him.
“Xarothar, move!” I screamed, desperation clawing at my throat.
I couldn’t let him die; no, I wouldn’t let another die by the hands of these fuckers.
