Page 102 of The Witch’s Daughter

“This is a holy sacrifice.” Spit flew as he yelled in my face.

“No.” I climbed to my feet. “This is murder.”

A gust of wind sent me backwards, but I grabbed his arm just before I flew away.

I loved when they recognized my power.

“You’re a reflection.” His eyes widened when I drew on his strength, almost drunk on the magic he could wield as it filled me. No wonder he thought himself perfect. He’d had this within him all along. The air. The wind. The clouds. The sky. All her power.

I could feel it everywhere. I could drown in it. Control it, and be magnificent.

Focus, my beast reminded me.

Right. I gathered his violent heat, trying to channel it into something tangible and burn this fucker where he stood.

Thunder rattled again. The sky gathered above the tent, anxious to come to my call.

His hand cracked against the side of my face, knocking me off balance.

My wolf surged forward, baring her fangs, and I tackled Vincent to the ground. We hit the dirt together, and he rolled away, just out of my grasp. Growling, I—

The wind knocked me back into the statue of Cerberus. Frustrated, I screamed at these stupid gold statues. Getting thrown against them hurt like a bitch.

“Don’t pretend you can control my power.” Vincent sneered as he stood tall, channeling his wind toward me. Thunder boomed again, and I knew it was only seconds until he charred me with his lightning.

“Oh, I could control it.” I laughed, knowing a few more seconds and I would’ve been able to use it as well as he did, and he’d had a lifetime to practice.

But the ground shifted beneath my feet and I realized it didn’t matter now anyway.

A thorny vine shot up from the earth, wrapping itself around Vincent as he screamed, looking wildly around. “What is this? Whose power is this?”

He’s here! My wolf yipped.

“How rude of me.” I dusted myself off, feeling giddy all over like I always did when I sensed him coming closer again. “Have I not introduced you to my mate?”

36

Jaxon

A blinding rage stronger than I’d ever felt grabbed me by the throat as I stepped inside the circle of gilded statues standing witness to the blood bath. Tisiphone smiled at me. Her teal hair was wild and tangled. Blood and dirt streaked her pretty face.

I almost hadn’t been able to find her.

The entire war camp was cast in a sort of cloaking spell that confused the senses and muted noise to the outside world. All the tents looked the same. The paths wound uselessly to nowhere. It’d take someone with strong instinct or muscle memory to find their way around. If it wasn’t for the storm clouds gathering above this specific tent…

I shuddered to think of what would’ve happened if it’d taken me longer to get here.

The roots of the earth grabbed surrounding warlocks who’d flanked Vincent, crushing them in their holds and swallowing them back to the soil’s depths as I walked by.

From whence we came, we all must return.

But I took my time with Vincent. Smaller vines crept up, wrapping around his legs, and the large root tightened around his midsection.

I was going to slowly break each of his bones.

“You.” Vincent’s eyes widened in delight, one that didn’t match his current circumstances. “You’re the one I need.”

“You won’t touch him.” Tisiphone snarled, moving to block me from the warlock’s view.