Page 98 of Mage Massacres

She flashed forward, slamming her fists into his face and ribs. He didn’t swing back at her. Instead, he blocked fluidly, though he moved slower than Sloane.

He was as tall as the druid, but too thin to be healthy. His face was gaunt, cheekbones sharp and protruding, just like the rest of his joints. The pants he wore barely stayed on his hips as he sidestepped, putting distance between himself and Sloane.

A cut on his brow knitted together as he wiped the blood off his face.

“Go back inside,” York shouted as Hyde raced out the door. “Stay out of the way.”

“Vaughn,” I called.

“No,” he cut me off, arguing immediately. “I won’t.”

I nodded. “You have to stay away from this. You’re the only one of us who can die, and if you get hurt, she’ll lose herself.”

Hyde wrapped her hand in his, pulling the fae back to the door. She understood how Sloane would react.

Novak yelled for our mate, his voice echoing in my mind as well, but she didn’t acknowledge him. He glanced back to the succubus, worry etched across his features.

“Have you ever seen her this gone? It feels like there’s nothing left of her.”

Hyde nodded, her knuckles turning white as she gripped Vaughn’s hand harder.

Sloane didn’t let up on her assault, and Raguel’s defense grew more sluggish with each strike he blocked. She raged, her skin morphing from creamy tan to porcelain and back.

Her mind might belong to her demon alter, but she was refusing to give over her body.

“She’s fighting him and herself,” I whispered, thinking aloud. “That’s why it feels like she’s not there, Novak.”

“That’s Raguel, but he’s not who we’ve been looking for.” He whipped his head around to look at us. “This isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, the pieces not quite fitting yet.

“This is nothing like my vision,” the vampire muttered. “Don’t you see it? You, of all people, should be able to see the details that she’s missing.”

I tracked them across the yard, studying the way Raguel moved. Even though he was exhausted, he blocked half of her attempts with an ease that reminded me of water… Of my mate.

When they were close, his hair blended with hers seamlessly, the silver strands reflecting the sun in the same manner as the moon did.

“Didn’t he call her Moonlight?” I inquired.

“Yeah,” the druid acknowledged absently.

“The letter…” Palmer snapped his fingers, struggling to get the words out. “The letter with the tokens said the same thing.”

“That’s Rig?” Briggs questioned, skepticism clear in his expression, but he changed his tone as he observed the pair fighting. “That’s Rig.”

York rushed toward Sloane, yelling her name. She slung her hand out, shoving him into Briggs. There was no way she was going to let anyone get close to Raguel.

“Listen to me,” the angel pleaded.

He was losing stamina quickly. His chest heaved with the exertion. His arms shook, purple bruises blossoming across his exposed torso.

Vaughn and Hyde mumbled to each other, their low voices lost in the fight. Her mates glared out the window, unhappy with her being so close to danger. I didn’t know if it was Sloane or Raguel that they worried about, but I’d yet to see the little succubus show genuine fear.

I felt useless as I watched my Kitten fight.

Should we let her kill him? Help her kill him?

Should we break them up and hope that he wasn’t the bad guy here?