Page 51 of The Rogue's Curse

Misha nodded to him, then reached into his jacket pocket to take out one of his clever little cases. The man was endlessly resourceful. Upon opening it, he found three empty vials. “If we get out of here, we take what we came for,” he said. “Get their blood.”

“When we get out of here, we’ll be fine,” Paris said pointedly, taking the case. He shoved one of the vials into his pocket for easy access, then raced up the stairs with Misha on his heels. Bursting onto the ground level, he found himself surrounded by a ring of uniformed administrators who opened fire. Red light shimmered in front of him, and he felt the heat pouring off Misha as the blood witch held up a shield of magic.

God, he was good.

Paris surveyed the room. Three administrators, two vampires, plus Lilah and Kieran. “Drop it,” he said. As the shield dissipated, he sprang at one of the dhampir and snapped his neck, then swung his body like a club at the nearest vampire. Limp ragdoll legs snapped across the vampire’s face and sent him flying, and Paris used his living weapon to bowl over the next vampire to spring at him.

Chaos broke out as he fought, lapsing into sheer primal fury.

He and Misha were under attack. Regardless of what they were, Misha was his, and they had dared to point a gun at him.

A bullet winged him. Bones cracked. He left two dhampir and a vampire dead on the ground while Misha shot off bursts of power like fireworks. As he hurled a second vampire across the room, he heard Misha shout, and then Lilah screamed, “Stop!”

He whirled to catch a fist in the face. When he staggered back, he saw Misha struggling against Kieran O’Brien, the brawny bastard who’d hurt Olivia and Danielle. His muscular arms were wrapped around Misha’s neck, one hand gripping his hair. One twitch, and he’d tear off Misha’s head. He knew how strong Kieran was; he’d taken Nikko down for the count and had only lost because he hadn’t counted on Nikko being batshit insane in a fight, willing to tear his own arm out of its socket to escape.

Paris fought the urge to scream. Kieran’s brilliant red eyes met his, and he gave Misha’s head a warning twist. A single crack rang out. A grimace of pain crossed Misha’s face, and he put up his bloody hands in a sign of surrender. He looked far too pale.

I can’t do much more, he’d warned Paris.

Then it was up to him.

“Let him go,” Paris said, holding up his hands.

Lilah emerged from behind one of her henchmen with a satisfied smirk on her face. Her lip curled as she glanced at Misha, then fixed her crimson stare on Paris. “I’d hoped you would bring the blonde one with you. Who’s this?”

“Surrender, and I won’t tear your head off,” Paris said, meeting Misha’s eyes. Though fear boiled in his gut, he could see the calculated precision in Misha’s gaze. The tiniest nod, as if to say, It’s okay.

She let out a barking laugh. “Stupid and blind? Charming.”

Paris shifted his weight, trying to calculate the distance to Lilah. “What if I agree to come with you to see Shea?”

“You don’t have to agree for me to take you,” she said.

“How the hell are you out of your cell?” he asked.

“I’ll be happy to explain when we’re on our way back to Atlanta and you have a stake in your skull,” she said. Her head jerked toward Kieran. “I’ll let him do it as revenge for what you did to him.”

“Nikko snapped his neck, for whatever it’s worth,” Paris said. At the mention of his friend’s name, Lilah’s eyes narrowed. “That’s right. Remember when you threatened him and got yourself hauled to prison instead? That was after we shut down all your little enterprises, if you need a refresher. Quite the mastermind.”

“You’re not very bright,” she said, eyes narrowing. The scent in the air shifted as she grew angrier.

“I’m just going to warn you, when Eduardo gets his hands on you and your brainless boytoy again, you won’t be coming back here. You’ll be dead,” he said.

“You’re not with Eduardo anymore,” she said triumphantly.

Aha!Then she had a connection outside. This wasn’t a random prison break.

“All right, all right,” he said. “I’ll go with you. Just let my friend go.”

His gaze cut to Misha, who closed his thumb and forefinger in a subtle OK sign. Paris strode toward Lilah and put out his hands as if waiting for cuffs.

As soon as she took a step toward him, he lunged and grabbed her firmly by the throat, then kept his momentum going, spinning her in front of him as he barreled into the closest wall. Gunshots rang out, and she let out a sharp cry as she tried to tell them to stop! Her body jolted with half a dozen shots, and her cries of pain were music to his ears.

With a snarl, he bit into her neck, then shoved one of Misha’s vials against the open vein. He held one side of her neck firmly, even as she slammed her fists into his sides and his head.

Over her shoulder, he could see Misha’s hands ablaze with billowing crimson light. Kieran lurched away from him with scorch marks on his hands. Gunshots rang out again, and Misha threw both hands up. A shimmering red orb surrounded him, but his legs were buckling beneath him.

Still holding Lilah, Paris dropped the full vial into his pocket and grabbed the second to fill it. Lilah ripped away from him and punched him square in the chest as she dug her heels in, launching out of his grasp. The blow dazed him for a few seconds, and he heard two things at once.

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