It wasn’t just the size or the grotesque features that made her shudder. Or even the large tusks that protruded from his lower jaw.
It was the frenzied hunger in the crimson eyes.
He was looking for dinner.
And she was going to be the main course.
She forced her stiff lips to part. “Um . . . Cyn.”
Cyn was headed toward the final hellhound lying unconscious across the floor when he sensed the troll entering the cave just behind Fallon.
Raw fear jolted through him as he watched the nasty creature reach for Fallon.
Oh hell, no.
With a speed that few other demons could match, Cyn was surging forward, planting himself between the troll and Fallon before the bastard could touch her.
“Stay back,” he commanded in clipped tones.
The crimson eyes narrowed, a howl of frustration sending a shower of dust from the ceiling as the troll realized his easy meal had just become a fight to the death.
“You no scare me, leech,” the troll lisped, his gaze shifting to the knife that Cyn held in his hand.
Cyn understood the demon’s confidence.
A troll had thick skin that couldn’t be pierced by a traditional weapon. Not even Cyn’s fangs could gnaw through the barklike hide. It took a blade that had been enchanted with magic to cause any damage.
Thankfully Cyn’s knife had been given to him by his foster father and it had been forged with powerful hexes etched into the steel.
“Then let’s play,” he taunted, edging toward the middle of the cave. Not only did he need room to maneuver, but he wanted the troll as far away from Fallon as possible.
The troll obediently shuffled forward while Cyn located the spot he intended to strike. In the demon’s lower stomach there was a large artery that he could reach with his knife. Once it was severed the troll would die within minutes.
Holding his position, Cyn abruptly ducked as the beast swung a massive fist toward his face. At the same time he struck out with his knife.
The troll grunted, turning just enough for Cyn to miss his mark.
Shit.
He dodged another swing of the fist, shoving the troll with enough force to send him stumbling backward.
With a snarl of fury the troll swiftly regained his balance, lowering his head as he charged forward.
Cyn ignored the tempting target. The skull was the thickest part of a troll. He could waste the rest of the night trying to batter his way through the impenetrable bone.
Instead, he braced himself, waiting until he could smell the stench of the troll’s rotting breath. Then, with a quick twist, he was stepping out of the path of the raging beast.
Going too fast to halt his frenzied attack, the troll ran headfirst into the side of the wall. The impact wasn’t enough to hurt him, but the tumble of sharp rocks that fell from the ceiling knocked him to his knees.
Muttering curses, the troll forced himself to his feet, giving a shake of his head as he turned back to glare at Cyn.
“No more play,” he growled, the crimson eyes filled with hate.
Cyn flipped the dagger into the air, his smile taunting. The more incensed the troll, the lower his IQ.
“Bring it on, big boy.”
A roar shook the air as the troll once again charged. Cyn held his knife ready, but once again the cunning troll managed to avoid a killing strike. At the same time, he managed to clip Cyn on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground.
A tactical mistake for Cyn as the creature managed to get past him with surprising speed.
It was far too easy to be lulled by the troll’s slow, graceless motions. They could be remarkably quick when they wanted.
And worse, while they might be a few bricks short of a full load, they possessed a lethal cunning that made them dangerous in a battle.
Still in the process of rising to his feet, Cyn watched as the bastard managed to reach Fallon, grabbing her by the arm.
Cyn didn’t know if the monster intended to try and escape with the princess or to use her as a bargaining chip. And in the end, it didn’t matter.
Even as Fallon lifted her hand as if she intended to hit the troll, he was leaping between them, a red mist filling his mind.
Gone was the vampire who fought with a cold, deadly skill and in his place was the berserker who would tear apart the world to protect his female.
With a growl he was streaking across the small space, slashing the knife toward the troll’s face. Instinctively the troll ducked to avoid the painful blow, and Cyn lowered his hand to stab at the bastard’s stomach.
The troll screeched, releasing his hold on Fallon as he jumped backward.
Cyn used the opening to turn and push Fallon on the other side of a large stalagmite.
Even caught in his berserker rage, Cyn had enough sense not to tell her to run. It was too risky for her to leave the cave. Not when they didn’t know how many trolls might be living in this particular nest.
Turning back toward the evil creature, he had no time to avoid the large arms that wrapped around him and hoisted him off the ground. He grunted as the arms tightened, cracking his ribs. Being squeezed wouldn’t kill him, but it hurt like a bitch.
Arching backward, Cyn abruptly snapped his head forward, slamming his forehead into the monster’s nose. Pain blasted through him as he fractured his skull, but the blow at least made the troll drop him so he could hold his hands to his face.
Going to his knees, Cyn grimly tried to shake off the blackness that threatened to consume him. Before he could stand, however, the troll was giving a bellow of fury as he raced forward to kick Cyn in his broken ribs.
He thought he heard Fallon cry out, but the berserker rage was pulsing through him, allowing him to continue to fight even when every movement was an agony.
There was a startled grunt from the troll as Cyn surged to his feet and with one powerful leap was smashing into the large body with enough force to make the troll flail his arms in an effort to maintain his balance.
It was all the opening that Cyn needed.
With an underhand swing of his hand, Cyn slammed the knife into the troll’s lower stomach, grimly smiling as the magical blade slid through the thick, outer flesh and found the soft organs beneath. Cyn swiftly twisted the dagger, grimacing as the rancid odor of bile filled the air.
Hissing his shock, the troll glanced down, watching his life spill onto the stone floor. Then, with a wheezing breath, he began to topple forward.
Cyn jerked the knife free, leaping to the side to prevent being crushed as the troll fell face-first.
Moaning as the sudden movement sent shards of pain ripping through him, Cyn allowed his gaze to dart toward Fallon.
He’d expected to find her hidden behind the stalagmite where he’d left her. But the space was empty. His gaze frantically scanned the shadows, a sharp fear slicing through him at the sight of her standing several feet away, her hand held out as the hellhound crouched, preparing to leap.
Bloody hell. He’d forgotten that he’d left the stupid beast alive when the troll made his untimely entrance.
Now he watched in horror as the hound surged forward.
No. He raced forward, knowing he would never make it. Time seemed to halt, his heart twisting with an unbearable terror as the hellhound parted its fangs as he prepared to rip out Fallon’s throat.
Then, just inches from her tender flesh, the hound was abruptly surrounded by a golden glow.
Cyn slowed, his eyes widening as the light intensified, becoming a blinding glare as it consumed the demon until it was reduced to a pile of . . . goo.
“Holy shite,” he muttered, his gaze moving toward Fallon who calmly lowered her hand and turned to meet his stunned expression.
“Did you think I was helpless?” she demanded.
He gave a rueful shake of his head. It was far too easy to forget she was a royal fey with the sort of powers that made most demons tremble with fear.
; Now his gaze ran over her glorious beauty, his heart filling with a tidal wave of pride that was only marred by the lingering terror at how close he’d come to losing her.
“There’s a vast difference between helpless and frying a demon to a crispy critter,” he dryly informed her.
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before trying to tell me what to do.” She sniffed, trying to hide the fact she was shaking like a leaf.
His foolish, dangerously brave mate.
Moving forward, he wrapped her slender body in his arms, pressing his cheek against the top of her head as he absorbed the intoxicating scent of vintage champagne.
“Highly unlikely,” he warned her with a rueful smile.
Intelligent enough to realize she’d be wasting her breath to argue, Fallon instead tilted back her head, her hand lifting to run her fingers down the braid that framed his face.
“You were—”
He grimaced as she struggled for the word.
“Terrifying,” he suggested, knowing he must have looked like a brutal savage during the battle with the troll. Nothing at all like the pampered warriors she was used to.
She shook her head, absently wrapping his narrow braid around her finger.
“Splendid,” she gently corrected.
Braced for her disgust, Cyn closed his eyes as relief raced through him.
He didn’t understand why fate would offer a barely civilized berserker this elegant, exquisitely sophisticated fairy as his potential mate. But he intended to make sure he devoted his life to earning her love.
“I like splendid,” he said in rough tones.
She released his braid to lightly touch the large bump on his forehead.
“But I prefer not to see it again,” she murmured.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he assured her, frowning as she gave a violent shiver. “You’re freezing.”
She shrugged. “I don’t want to waste my energy keeping myself warm.”
“That is my duty.”
With one smooth motion, Cyn swept Fallon off her feet and moved to the distant corner of the cave. Then, with a muffled groan at the pain from his shattered ribs, he sat on the floor with the princess cradled in his lap.
As much as he wanted to take her far away from the stench and gore, they both needed to rest.
Holding her tight in his arms, he concentrated on warming the air around them.
He didn’t have the same talent as Fallon, but he could maintain the heat for a short period of time.
“How do you do that?”
“I’m a vampire of many talents.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Rest, princess, I’ve got you.”
They sat in silence for a long time, both simply happy to have survived.
Cyn leaned his back against the wall of the cave, marveling at how perfect the slender princess fit against him. It wasn’t just the feminine curves that were molded to his chest, although they were right up at the top of the list. Or the feel of her breath as it brushed his throat. Or even the satin hair that tickled his jaw.
It was the pure beauty of her soul as it settled against his.
Cyn allowed the peace to ease away the last of his fury, relieved to feel his bones begin to mend. He couldn’t sense any predators near, but considering his luck lately, he intended to be ready for . . . hell, anything.
Time drifted past, then at last, Fallon tilted back her head to reveal the color had returned to her cheeks.
Thank God.
“You said that you smelled something familiar before we were attacked,” she reminded him.
Lost in the fantasy of the pleasure he intended to share with this female the minute they returned to his lair, Cyn forced himself to recall his shock when the portal had opened.
“Aye,” he said. “Druids.”
She blinked in surprise. “Do you think they’re involved?”
Did he?
Cyn hesitated. As a vampire he had little contact with the druids. They tended to be shy and reclusive, preferring to devote themselves to their studies. They did, however, often reach out to the fey to assist them with their efforts to repair the earth from the endless damage caused by modern technology.
His foster parents occasionally traveled to consult with the elders, even inviting them to visit their small cottage.
Which was how he recognized their scent.
“They’re human magic-users, some of them dangerously powerful,” he said. “And my foster parents were going to speak with them shortly before they disappeared. That makes them obvious suspects.”
Her brow furrowed. “If they were so obvious then why didn’t you mention them before?”
“Because they’ve been devoted to peace for centuries,” he answered. “So far as I know they’ve never used their magic as an offensive weapon.”
“Would they have the magic to gain control of the Commission?”
Cyn frankly didn’t know. The elders might possess powerful magic for humans, but did they have the strength to compel the Oracles?
“Perhaps,” he hesitantly said. “If they were doing it in layers as we suspect.”
She stiffened in his arms, her eyes widening. “Wait. I seem to remember my father saying that he’d had to forbid the druids from performing certain spells.”
Cyn lifted his brows. “What spells?”
She hesitated, clearly searching her memory for details. “I’m not entirely sure, but it had something to do with using fey potions.”
“Potions.” A heavy ball of dread lodged in the pit of his stomach.
The human magic alone was dangerous, but with the potions magnifying it . . .
Shit.
“Yes.” She grimaced, clearly sensing unease. “Father threatened to destroy them if he caught the druids abusing the fey.”
“It seems a few have decided to go rogue,” he muttered, wishing that Sariel had done more than threatened the humans.
“But why would they want to close the portals?”
Cyn felt his fangs lengthen. That, at least, was one question that was easy to answer.
“I would assume they intend to try and finish what the witches started,” he said.
“What?”
“Rid the world of demons.”
There was a tense silence as she slowly absorbed his words. “Do you think they have Magnus?”
Cyn struggled to disguise the sharp-edged anger that raced through him.
Bloody hell. He was ancient even by vampire standards.
Far too old to be caught in the throes of a petty jealousy.
Or at least he should be.
Unfortunately he couldn’t halt the urge to track down the prince and smash in his too-pretty face.
“It’s possible,” he ground out.
The amber eyes darkened with concern. “Will they hurt him?”
He instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her delicate form.
As if he could physically prevent her from thinking about another man.
No. Not just another man.
The fiancé who she’d once promised to share eternity with.
“Do you care?” he rasped.
She studied him with a puzzled expression. “Of course I care. No matter what happened between us, he’s one of my people.”
Knowing he was being foolish, Cyn returned his attention to their current troubles.
Nothing was more important than halting the Commission from performing the deadly spell.
“We need to share this with Styx,” he said. “Can you travel yet?”
“Yes, but it’s daylight there,” she reminded him.
He rearranged her on his lap, pulling out his cell phone. “Damn,” he muttered as he glanced at the screen. “No service. Can you take us back to my lair?”
She gave a small nod, holding up her hand as the world faded to black.
Chapter Eighteen
Anthony stood in the center of the stone circle, dangling an amulet in one hand while he
tossed a strand of gray hair into the flames that burned on the altar.
The amulet would allow him to focus his magic, while the hair would call to the one he was seeking.
Muttering the words to his spell in a low breath, he felt a familiar tug of power deep inside him. He allowed it to spread through his body, at last releasing it in a small burst to open a hole in the thick illusions that held his prisoners.
The flames flickered and with an audible pop the magic grasped the druid that Anthony had been seeking, yanking him into the stone circle to land at Anthony’s feet.
The opening slammed shut and Anthony bit back a groan of agony.
Druid magic was intended to work in harmony with nature. When he forced it to mold the environment to meet his needs, there was always a price.
Usually a painful price.
He grasped the edge of the stone altar, waiting for the recoil of magic to pass. The greater the magic, the more unpleasant the whiplash.
At last confident that his knees would hold him upright, Anthony straightened and watched as the elder druid rolled onto his back with a low moan.
The man was dressed in a worn brown robe with his long silver hair pulled into a tail at his nape. His face was narrowed and lined with age, while his hands were swollen from the arthritis that had nearly crippled him over the past few years.
Once Caydeyrn had believed himself to be the oldest and most powerful of the druids. Then Anthony had returned from his latest sabbatical, revealing that he hadn’t died as they’d all hoped.
The fool had tried to condemn Anthony to death, claiming that his determination to rid the world of demons made him a traitor.
Idiot.
It hadn’t taken Anthony long to prove that his place was at the top of the druid hierarchy, and that he was willing to destroy anyone who tried to stand in his way.
With a rattling cough, the elderly man forced open his eyes.
In the firelight he looked every one of his hundred plus years, his narrow face ashen and his pale blue eyes watery as he glared at Anthony.
“You . . . fiend,” he hissed. “You should be shamed to show your face to me.”
Anthony narrowed his gaze as he watched the druid struggle to a seated position.