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The first cat sprang at him. He beat it back, spearing its side. But the second raked claws across his skin, tearing gashes across one of his marks.
That would not stop it from working. Marks ran deeper than that shallow surface level.
As we circled each other, searching for weaknesses to exploit, the zintari made attempts at him.
None caught him so off guard that they offered me a clear opening. And soon, I felt the eyes of spectators on my back. I did not dare look their way, or Vorian might take advantage, but I could sense Lucas there, like Lyr’s light gleaming off my skin.
Fang sprang, and so did I.
In a flash, Vorian had stiffened, disappeared, and phased behind me. I spun, and my plasma blade locked between his spikes. He threw me back, and we danced around each other. A slash gored my side. I stabbed through his thigh—a moment’s pleasure at giving him the same pain he had once given me.
He came at me, relentless and unflagging. It took all my concentration to keep the forcefield from letting him through with each attack, but I missed some assaults, and every attack that hit the forcefield weakened it, until I had to shift the power to block each strike.
There was no way to keep up with him, and when his leg swept against my ankle, I tumbled back, rolled away, and came up to my knees.
“You have done better than I expected, Prince,” Vorian sneered. “I had always thought the lack of faith our people had in hybrids was due to your softness. I see now, you are a warrior.”
But not enough of one to stop him.
My marks seared with pain, burning from so much use so quickly. I’d taken all that I could from them, pushed my body to its limit. And I was done.
I gasped for air, watching as Vorian stalked toward me. His lips were a thin line, blood swelling from the claw marks on his skin, sweat on his brow. Even the zintari hung back, unmotivated to fight by my side with my star marks so drained.
Suddenly, there was shout, a hand on my arm. Small fingers, gripping me tight as an aleri and dragging me backward.
Lucas there, trying to save me from Vorian’s spikes. My arm shot back to keep him behind me. No reason for Vorian to attack a human, to hurt my Lucas. He already had me.
But the blow never came. There was no pain, only a warm, pulsating light, radiating from my arm, filling my chest with every heartbeat. My skin thrummed with power. One hand was behind me, on Lucas’s hip, but I was staring straight ahead, looking up at Vorian.
He was coming at me still, the plasma spike glistening from his palm. The point pushed into my forcefield, but it had stopped him.
It had stopped him a full arm’s length away from me.
My own forcefield was small. A finger length of protection around me while I could sustain it.
This was enormous, and when I breathed in and felt the edges of my star mark’s power, it felt boundless.
Beside me, Lucas was breathing fast. His right hand stayed on my arm, gripping my shoulder tight, but his left, he lifted.
I would never understand how he knew what to do, but he shifted the shape of my forcefield to lift Vorian off his feet, and with a sweep of his arm, sent him crashing to the ground.
Before Vorian stood again, Lucas crashed into my arms, wrapping himself around me, between the two of us like the cover of his small body could keep me safe.
Vorian rose. I tensed, ready to push Lucas aside and protect my mate.
But those lethal spikes had disappeared. Vorian’s scowl was serious, but his body was languid, loose. He leaned back, and I caught his eye.
The fight was finished. Finally, it hit me. My Lucas was a mage. He had made my power his own. He had the power of ancient Thorzan at hand, and none could question my strength. Our strength.
CHAPTER33
LUCAS
There was absolutely no way.
No.
Way.
