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"Bryon's right," Ark agreed tightly, sweeping his gaze over all of them and jolting. Maia's chest tightened with a flash of night-cold panic, and she stopped dragging her feet for a second. "Where is Jaromir?"
Maia froze.
She wasn't the only one. Azrail slammed to a halt, scanning the long grass like Maia did, eyes drawn inexplicably towards the ruby-lit saints circle.
Maia shook her head over and over. What was he doing?What in hell was he doing?
Jaro stormed across the island to the saints' circle, to the monsters and whatever Vawn had become. There was no hint of insecurity or doubt in his posture, only determination and purpose.
Jaro halted a few steps away from Vawn, from thosethingsthat had devoured two cities whole, and Maia saw red. She went fucking feral.
It wasn't power that ripped through her this time, wasn't saint magic or snaresong, but pure, unadulterated panic—andrage. Maia had heard stories of this in fearful snippets of whispered conversations, enough to have a name for the molten magma that poured through her veins and filled her heart.
Mate fury.
A destructive, protective rage. Anendlessrage. It had brought down buildings and wiped out whole families. It only ebbed when their mate was safe. If they died ... it grew so violent that the fae had to be put down.
Mate fury was devastating in any fae, but inMaia?Corrupted by iron, full of her own power and this volatile saints magic?
Maia wasn't sure what she was capable of, and she frankly didn't give a shit as she brushed her other mates aside like they were cobwebs. She snarled a warning at Vawn, at the beasts swarming around him, at whatever waited on the other side of that portal.
She'd kill them all to keep Jaro safe.
