The mage reeked of sulfur yet showed no signs of having fought any demons. There wasn’t a mark on him.
He was also alone.
“Where is she?” Venom dripped onto my shirt as my temper burned white-hot. The mage might think he had the upper hand, but no protection spell lasted forever, and the minute his weakened, I’d kill the arrogant fucker.
“She’s safe.” A small smirk ghosted across his lips.
Why couldn’t I see her? Had the mage hidden her with magic?
“You don’t deserve her,” I spat. After hundreds of years, I’d learned the hard way that patience was indeed a virtue. Whereas in my youth I had acted first and asked questions later, I now did the opposite. Sometimes things were not as they appeared.
The longer I stared at the storm mage, the more I realized something seemed off about him. Shadows swirled in his green irises, and every few seconds his left eye twitched.
My vampire nature recognized the signs. Someone powerful had used magic to bend the storm mage to their will, and from the taint of sulfur and brimstone, it was dark magic.
Few beings had the skills to cast a dark magic enchantment strong enough to hold someone of Alaric Vane’s magical caliber.
“Which mage or witch has you in their thrall?” I stepped back, despite fearing for my mate’s safety. She was close; I could sense her presence. And from the steady beat of her heart, she was safe for the moment.
Alaric shuddered and grimaced as the spell tightened its grip on him. His eye twitched faster, black shadows flaring in his irises as he struggled against the constraints holding him prisoner.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he gritted out eventually.
Dark magic was a tricky foe, but if he was fighting an internal battle, I might have enough strength to break the protection spell.
“Come now, Alaric,” I purred, vampiric coercion coating my voice, “there’s no need to fear me.”
He blinked and grimaced again. Yes, the enchantment was powerful, but not infallible. At a guess, the partial soul-bond was helping him fight it.
This had to be the work of Tiberius Vane.
Alaric’s father had always coveted power. It was why he hated the vampires. My father had seen through his charm offensive and worked hard to thwart his many schemes.
Raven must have caught Tiberius’s attention somehow. While a bond between her and his son would be advantageous to him, he wouldn’t want Alaric to share her with other mates. Especially shifters.
“Back off, bloodsucker,” the storm mage sneered. “You should have stayed dead like the rest of your kind.”
The chain on my temper snapped.
I attacked, but once again, the magic shield zapped me. It threw me backward, weakening me. Only this time, instead of laughing, the storm mage cast a second vicious spell in retaliation.
The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was my queen, slumped on the floor a few feet away, her cheeks damp with tears.
4
Zane
Iitched to kill some demons. How fucking dare they come after my mate! Had they not learned their lesson?
A huff of annoyance burst free as I waited for the bear to catch up.
The fucking security mages needed to pay me for my services. I bet I’d eliminated way more demons than those lazy bastards in the last twelve months.
By my reckoning, the tally was somewhere around fifty.
It was a fucking miracle the mages had kept a lid on the rapid increase in demon activity, although the chatter on campus suggested magicals were losing patience with the Supernatural Council’s inability to contain the problem. Negative sentiment on social media had spiked alarmingly in recent weeks.
I shoved open the fire door and scanned the alley, my sword ready to slice and dice more demons.
