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Adored.
Worshipped.
Our witch swallows before responding. “I—Jasper, he’s my. Um.” Another blush sweeps over her pale skin as she averts her gaze. “I feel tired. I don’t think I can do it again.”
I’m not sure if she means an orgasm or using one of us as an amplifier.
“Then tell your sister it’s time for you to leave,” Jasper says. “She was able to open another portal, right? Tell her to open one for you.”
I frown, not sure who her sister is or if I like the idea of my fated mate leaving my sight. Portal spells and potions are rare, coveted, and expensive.
Then, of course, there are transportation skills like my own. Convenient, but one that comes with a hefty price.
Ishara shakes her head. “No, Jas. I’m not leaving. Not after… this.” She clenches the sheets to her chest, seeming to be referring to what they just shared.
Then she looks pointedly at Zyran and me.
“My sister won’t let any of you into Reykjavík. And even if she does, you’ll be imprisoned immediately whether she approves of it or not. Kaspian is too protective of her to let you roam free.”
Zyran raises an eyebrow and it crests over the line of his glasses. “King Kaspian? Why would he be protective of your sister?”
“Because her sister is the Gold and Garnet Queen,” Jasper growls.
We all fall into silence.
We’re mated to the queen’s sister. Great. That would have been helpful information if Daithi told us who we were targeting.
Of course, our jobs only include data on a need-to-know basis. As a soul-bound slave, I simply needed to know how to kill her. She had been portrayed as a relatively fragile target and one easy to overcome through stealth.
She is petite, but I can immediately tell by her aura of power and her intense presence that Ishara Doyle is no easy mark.
Another deathly scream rips through the air, this time much closer. The ground rumbles with the heavy weight of an army on its way.
She might not want to leave, but she can’t stay here. While removing her from danger is a priority, things have changed now that I know we’re all her fated mates.
“Maybe nobody has to leave,” I suggest as I consider our options. I turn my attention back to the beautiful witch and ignore the raking need that continues to grow inside my core.
All I want to do is rip that sheet away from her and worship her.
Taste her.
Claim her.
But I’m a vampire of reason and logic, and right now, an army is going to tear this witch apart if I don’t think fast.
“Go on,” Ishara says. Her silver eyes gauge me with so much intelligence and beauty that I’m almost rendered speechless.
I’m not often shaken, but this witch has fractured me to the core. “Daithi,” I say, only to be met with narrowed gazes. “He’s the one sending this army. If I can talk to him, maybe I can convince him of another route of action.”
Jasper yanks a pair of pants from the floor and slips them on, finally covering himself up. “You mean the asshole who just possessed my body and tried to rape Issy? No. We’re nottalkingto him. If I ever see his spirit again, I’m shredding it myself.”
Hearing that my captor tried to rape my mate turns my intentions murderous. The temperature in the room drops as I draw magic from the recently deceased, but more prominently the other supernaturals in my room who favor death magic. It’s not intentional. It’s just how my power works.
I’m a living containment of death—made to absorb its fatal attraction until I explode. My skin is already humming with spiritual energy after being sucked through time and space from our arrival. Luckily, the act of teleportation uses up my magical stores so I’m not in danger of imploding, but I can sense my well filling up again.
“Keep your cool, Kor,” Zyran warns.
He knows me too well.
