His brows drew together, his hands curling into tight fists as if barely resisting the urge to give into her soft command.
“Why?” he rasped.
She arched her back. “I want to feel your hands on my body.”
He hesitated, his breath rasping between his teeth. “I suppose you also want me to remove your cuffs?”
“Not yet.” She rattled the chains while managing to keep her hands hidden. “I think we could have fun like this. Don’t you?”
“Ah.” He shuddered, clearly excited by the thought of keeping her shackled while he . . . well, whatever the hell he was fantasizing doing to her. Creep. “I knew that your sense of self-preservation would encourage you to play nice.”
“Come here and let me show you just how nice I can play,” she urged.
For a breathless moment he swayed forward, his hand lifting to touch her cheek. Fallon tensed, her muscles coiled to lunge forward the second he came within touching distance.
Then, as if he were deliberately trying to torture her, he was surging to his feet and shaking a pudgy finger at her.
“Naughty fey. First comes the spell,” he muttered, turning to head back to the altar. “And then the pleasure.”
Shit.
Chapter Twenty-Two
For once, the always confident—some might say arrogant—Prince Magnus wavered.
A part of him wanted to demand that Tonya form a portal and return to Styx’s lair.
She still looked far too pale, and there were several small wounds that had yet to heal on her arms and legs. She needed a warm bath, a soft bed, and plenty of nectar to finish healing.
But a much larger part of him selfishly wanted her near.
If he wasn’t keeping an eye on her, how could he be certain she wasn’t in danger? Or that she was taking proper care of herself.
It was at last the impatient sound from the waiting gargoyle that made up his mind.
He’d nearly lost her.
There was no way in hell he was going to let her out of his sight.
Reaching out, he firmly gripped her hand, pulling her with him as he followed the gargoyle through the narrow opening between the standing stones.
There was a cool brush of power as they stepped through a magical barrier, then, without warning, there was the unmistakable stench of death.
Instantly he was shoving Tonya behind him as he swiftly surveyed their surroundings.
The inner sanctum was larger than he’d expected, with a stone altar set in the middle of a floor that had been worn smooth over the centuries. Along the edges were several small tables that held piles of dried herbs and spices as well as bottles of potions. There were no visible weapons, but he caught the unmistakable scent of gunpowder, which meant there was at least one firearm in the vicinity.
It was the three druids, however, that captured his attention.
They were currently crouched near the altar where a corpse was sprawled on the hard floor.
Even from a distance, Magnus could tell the dead man had been one of the druids. Not only did he wear a similar robe, but the smell of magic clung to his body.
He wrinkled his nose as his gaze took in the deep slash across the front of his throat.
“Was this the druid who trapped us?” he demanded.
The chosen speaker gave a shake of his head as he straightened to face Magnus.
“No, this was our brother.” A deep sorrow was threaded through his voice. “Anthony has used him as a sacrifice.”
Magnus arched a startled brow. Humans were often violent toward one another, but to choose one of your own brothers as a sacrifice . . .
That took a whole new level of evil.
“Why would he sacrifice him?”
The man pointed toward the flames on top of the altar that flickered with a blue glow.
“The spell has started.”
Magnus unconsciously tightened his grip on Tonya’s fingers, drawing her close to his side as he scowled at the elderly druid.
“Tell me what it means.”
“He’s cast the spell of Compulsion on the Oracles. Now they’ve gathered to combine their powers to complete the spell that will prevent any travel between dimensions. This world will be completely isolated.”
Shit. That’s what he feared it meant.
“And the demons—”
“Will die,” the druid completed his horrifying words. “Along with all magic.”
Just a few days ago, Magnus would have shrugged his shoulders and returned to his homeland. What did the fate of this world or any other matter to him?
So long as the Chatri were safely tucked behind their layers of magic, then there was no need to put himself at risk.
Now he knew beyond a doubt he couldn’t walk away.
Tonya was a part of this world. And the lesser fey who had once bowed to the Chatri.
Even the vampires . . .
No, wait. He still didn’t care what happened to the vampires.
But the others . . . yes, he would do whatever was possible to protect them.
Besides, there was the nagging fear that this might eventually hurt the Chatri.
Magnus pointed toward the flames. “Stop them.”
The old man shook his head. “It’s impossible.”
“Wrong answer,” Magnus snapped.
“Only Anthony can halt the spell now that it’s been cast.”
“Fine, then bring me the druid.”
“He’s not here.”
Of course he wasn’t.
Magnus grimaced as the druids covertly stepped backward, knowing that his power was shimmering around him with a golden aura.
“Where is he?” he demanded, trying to leash his temper. It would be a shame to accidentally turn one of the druids into a pile of goo.
“With the Commission.”
“Damn,” he muttered.
“I’ve traveled to the caves,” Tonya abruptly said. “I can take us there.”
He sent her a frown. “No.”
“Yes.” She shot back. “My decision, not yours, prince.”
Magnus bit back the urge to argue. The one thing he knew about this female was that to try and tell her she couldn’t do something was the one certain way to make sure she dug in her heels.
And, in truth, he knew that he would need her assistance.
A female as a partner. Who would ever have thought it?
“Very well.” He gave her a slow nod, his heart forgetting to beat as he was rewarded with a dazzling smile. Then he grudgingly returned his attention to the men watching him with a completely unwarranted belief that Magnus was going to be their savior. “Will killing the druid break the spell?”
“That is only the first step,” the man said.
Magnus knew it couldn’t be that simple.
“What else must be done?”
“To cast the Compulsion spell that’s controlling the Oracles, Anthony must have a blood sacrifice and a focus object.”
Magnus frowned. His magic came from his own powers. Human magic-users had to manipulate the power that was found in nature. Or steal it from the blood of a sacrifice.
He’d never had to understand what went into casting a spell.
“What object?”
“It can be anything.” The druid shrugged. “An amulet. A crystal. Even something personal like a piece of jewelry. It must be destroyed.”
Kill the druid and destroy a piece of jewelry. That seemed doable.
“Will it be with him?”
“Not necessarily.”
Ah. There had to be something.
“Then how do we find it?”
“It will give off a pulse of magic,” the druid answered.
Tonya made a sound of impatience. “Along with a thousand other items. The caves belong to the Oracles,” she said. “All of them will have amulets and crystals and God knows what else.”
“True.” With a frown, the old man turned to share a whispered conversation with his
fellow druids. There was a brief discussion, or maybe an argument, before he swiveled around to meet Magnus’s impatient glare. “My brothers and I can combine our magic to vibrate any objects that happen to be druid in the cave.”
“Vibrate?”
“Yes. The movement will give off a small hum. That should make it easier to find.”
Magnus supposed that was as good as it was going to get.
“Fine.” He glanced toward his beautiful imp. “Tonya—”
She reached up to place a finger against his lips. “We’ll talk when this is over. Are you ready?”
He gave a grudging nod.
The sooner they were done, the sooner he could have this woman alone in his bed.
And he wanted that very, very much.
“Hey, wait for me,” a small voice demanded as Levet waddled forward.
“No,” Magnus growled. “No way.”
Tonya tried and failed to hide her smile. “Actually he’s very good at seeing through illusions. We might need him.”
The idiotic creature stuck out his tongue. “Oui, I am a gargoyle of many talents.”
“Fine,” Magnus growled. “Let’s just go.”
Tonya lifted her hand, waving to open the portal. Then she gave it another wave. And another.
“Oh shit,” she breathed, her eyes wide with terror. “We’re too late.”
Cyn’s sanity was hanging on by a thread.
Pacing the cramped cell, he searched for any weakness in the smooth stone walls before turning his attention to the iron door that refused to budge.
He grasped the handle, giving it a mighty yank. Nothing happened.
Which meant that it’d been magically connected to the stone that surrounded it.
Dammit.
Whirling on his heel, he moved to where the two vampires lay on the ground. Bending down, he grabbed one of Styx’s large shoulders and allowed his power to flow from his hand into his Anasso.
Not all vampires could share power, but as a clan chief he could perform a basic healing.
“Styx,” he muttered, his fingers curling around his Anasso’s arm to give him a shake. “Wake up.”
There was a low groan before Styx was reaching up to shove away Cyn’s hand.
“Cyn, you are a vampire with a death wish.”
“That’s the one thing I don’t have,” he assured his companion, rising to his feet. “I intend to live. But to do that I need you to get your oversized carcass off the ground.”
“Oversized?” Styx went to his hands and knees, giving a shake of his head as if he were trying to clear out the cobwebs. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black . . . or some such shit?” With a pained moan, Styx slowly forced himself upright, studying his surroundings with a jaundiced glare. “Damn. We walked straight into a trap.”
Cyn frowned in surprise. There weren’t many traps that a vampire couldn’t sense.
“The druid?”
Styx grimaced. “Yes, but I didn’t see him. We were entering the back of the caves, then zap . . . everything went black.” He shrugged, glancing toward the heavy door. “I’m assuming there’s no way out.”
“Nothing obvious,” Cyn admitted, his gut churning with fear. Where was Fallon? Was she hurt? Was she . . . no. He clenched his fangs. He had to concentrate on getting out of the cell. It was the only way he could help his mate. “It’s magically sealed, but if the three of us can combine our strength we might be able to—”
“Wait.”
The choked command came from Viper, who was rolling onto his back, muttering a foul curse as he tried to gather his strength.
Cyn leaned over him, meeting the vampire’s dark gaze with a wry smile.
“Welcome back to the world of the living, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Bite me.” Viper narrowed his midnight eyes. “Where’s Fallon?”
Cyn flinched at the pain that sliced through him. “Phyla has her.”
“Bitch.” With far more grace than either Cyn or Styx, Viper was on his feet, sliding his sword from the scabbard angled across his back. “Move aside,” he ordered.
Cyn frowned as he stepped out of Viper’s path. “What are you doing?”
The silver-haired vampire halted directly in front of the door, placing the tip of his sword on the ground.
“We can’t go through, but we can go under.”
Cyn felt the ground tremble beneath his feet, belatedly realizing what his friend intended to do.
As predators, vampires had developed the skill to hide their dinner after a feeding. The humans, after all, were smart enough to ask questions if bodies began to litter the streets. But while most could only use their powers to loosen the soil so it made it easier to bury the dead, there were a rare few that could actually cause enough shift in the earth to collapse large buildings.
Sheathing his own sword, Cyn dropped to his knees at the same time as Styx, using his hands to dig out the large rocks that cracked beneath the pressure of Viper’s power.
Dust began to fill the air as they scooped out the earth beneath the doorway, chucking the large rocks to the back of the cell. There was a tense moment as a long crack suddenly appeared in the side of the cavern, warning that the entire cavern was being affected by Viper’s tiny earthquakes, but the pace never slowed.
A cave-in would be a pain in the ass, but it wouldn’t kill them.
Pulling out one last rock, Styx lay flat on his stomach and began to shove his large body through the hole. There were several curses and the scent of blood as the king scraped off several layers of skin, but eventually he was through the opening.
Cyn was quick to follow, clawing his way under the door and into the narrow tunnel.
With one shove of his hands he was on his feet and headed down the tunnel. He heard Styx call out, but he didn’t slow.
He could sense Fallon above them.
Nothing was keeping him from finding her.
Twice he was forced to double back, before he at last reached a pair of stairs that had been carved into the side of the tunnel wall.
He turned to gesture for Styx and Viper to stay behind him. Fallon was near, but so was the druid.
No one was killing that bastard but him.
Cautiously climbing the stairs, Cyn was prepared as a bolt of fire was shot in his direction. With inhuman speed he dodged the lethal bolt, leaping behind a large stalagmite to survey the small cave.
There wasn’t much to see.
The druid who was dressed in a plain brown robe. An altar where a fire was burning with an odd, blue flame. And Fallon, who was seated at an awkward angle and shackled to the wall.
The bastard had chained his beautiful princess as if she was some sort of animal.
“How did you get loose, vampire?” the druid rasped, the edge of fear unmistakable despite his belligerent tone.
“Afraid, druid?” he baited, reaching out with his senses to search for hidden dangers.
This was no time to rush into a trap.
A sneer touched the rounded face. “How predictable of a demon to assume that a human would fear them. Your time is past, vampire. The humans will rule this world.”
There was another bolt of energy that slammed into the stalagmite. Cyn muttered a curse.
He wasn’t going to commit himself until he was certain there were no nasty surprises.
“Ah, how tedious. Yet another mortal drunk on his own sense of self-importance.” Cyn clicked his tongue. “It might be amusing if it wasn’t so pathetic.”
The druid tilted his chin, his eyes darting toward the edge of the cave where Styx and Viper were blocking his retreat.
“The spell is cast. There’s nothing you can do to halt it.”
Cyn laughed with mocking amusement. He wanted the magic-user distracted.
“I can kill you.”
The man growled deep in his throat. “That won’t bring an end to the spell.”
Cyn inched toward the edge of the stalagmite. He didn’t know if
killing the druid would end the spell or not. And at the moment he didn’t give a shit. All that mattered was getting to Fallon.
“I don’t care.”
Fear flushed the round face. “Of course you do. You’ll die—”
This time Cyn’s laughter was genuine. “You’re even more of a fool than I first thought.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want the spell halted.”
“My mate is a Chatri,” he pointed out. “We can travel to her homeland.”
A sizzling bolt flew in his direction. It slammed into the floor. The entire cave groaned, as if a breath away from tumbling into the tunnel beneath.
“You won’t allow your people to die,” the druid rasped, no doubt trying to reassure himself that he wasn’t effectively cornered.
Cyn stepped forward, his weight balanced on his spread legs.
“I’ll take them with me.”
The druid licked his lips. “Perhaps we can discuss a compromise.”
“Too late.”
Without warning, Cyn launched himself at the rotund form. He wanted to be done with this. Grabbing ahold of the druid, he sunk his nails deep into the man’s arms as he allowed his fangs to lengthen.
He struck toward the bastard’s neck; unfortunately the druid wasn’t going to give up without a fight. With a frantic motion, he reached into the pocket of his robe. Then, pulling out a small crystal, he spoke a low word of power.
There was a sudden burst of light, blinding Cyn and forcing him backward as the heat seared deep into his flesh, threatening to burn him to a crisp.
When his sight cleared, he realized the bastard had taken the opportunity to stand close to Fallon, his hand pointed toward her head.
Damn.
He carefully circled forward. Waiting for an opening.
“Stop right there,” the druid warned, sending Cyn a warning glare. “If you don’t want her dead then you’ll turn around and leave this cave.”
A red mist began to fill Cyn’s mind as his berserker threatened to take command.
“Release her now or I’ll rip out your throat.”
The druid flinched but his composure never wavered. “Back to the edge of the stairs and I’ll send her to you.”
“There’s no bargaining. Release her or die.”
At last realizing that Cyn wasn’t to be bullied or coerced, the druid stepped backward, as if he intended to try and use Fallon as some sort of shield.