Page 88 of The Rogue's Curse

“Did they just leave?” Georgina asked.

“Maybe two minutes ago. I waited long enough for them to drive away to call you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do,” Diana said.

“It’s fine. We’re on our way. Sit tight.”

“How long will it be? I’m scared,” Diana said. Clever woman.

“Five minutes. We have someone in your area,” she said.

After setting a stopwatch, Paris sprang into action. He escorted Diana outside, where James waited with a vehicle. Another one of their new recruits was in the front seat, practically vibrating with excitement to be on the mission. Blake was already huddled in the floorboards of the backseat. “Get them away. Avoid the compound until we know everything is clear. I’ll call you with instructions,” he said. He looked around, letting the glow of his phone shine on his face for a split second. “Shoot anything that’s not one of us.”

He heard a light chuckle that belonged to Safira, who was nestled high in a tree in the yard across the street. Paris joined Kristina on the roof of the Goodwin house, while Jonas returned inside.

Nervous energy prickled in his belly as they waited. Three minutes to go. He texted Sasha.

Get her out now. Text me and James Villines when you’re clear.

Two minutes.

He glanced at Kristina, who lay flat against the dark shingles with a rifle at her side. He’d seen the woman shoot and didn’t object to her taking over so he could call the shots.

From his vantage point, he could see headlights approaching from down the street, painting a shifting glow across the trees and yards. “Ready,” he said quietly.

A black SUV came around the curve, cutting the headlights as they approached. Wheels crunched over grit as the vehicle pulled into Diana Goodwin’s driveway. From inside, a male said, I’ll go around the back.

The front doors opened. Two broad-shouldered male vampires emerged from either side. The one on the passenger side opened the back door, and Paris leaned forward.

Let it be him.

They weren’t that lucky. A slender woman with curly brown hair emerged, brushing wrinkles out of her loose top. Kristina nudged Paris and mouthed, That’s her.

He nodded to Kristina, placing his finger at the center of his forehead. She aimed, then squeezed the trigger. There was barely a heartbeat between the whoomph of the rifle and Georgina hitting the ground. Clipped shouts were cut off by two more shots, dropping both her bodyguards easily.

One of the brawny men groaned, still managing to move his feet enough to pitifully drive himself across the yard. Paris leaped down from the roof, pounced on the man’s back, and twisted his head entirely around in a crackling of vertebrae.

Kristina followed, drawing her pistol as she landed. When Paris rolled Georgina over, her red eyes were hazy, blood trickling from the neat hole in her forehead. With a grim smile, Kristina said, “Remember me?”

18

A great winged horse with shadow dripping from its hooves galloped past with icy wind whipping in its wake. Misha whirled to see it go, then ducked as a flying monstrosity buzzed overhead. He was in a dark forest of spindly, rotted trees hanging heavy with reeking fruit.

“Paris!” he called, taking a tentative step forward. The grinding sound beneath his feet caught his attention, and he realized with slowly dawning horror that the path was paved with bone fragments.

He bolted.

In the distance, a glowing golden light pulsed between trees. A pleasant, warm voice rang out in his head. Misha, it’s all safe. I’ve got you.

The ground rumbled beneath him, then cracked. Fiery light poured through the cracks, and he felt the entire world crumbling.

Misha!

Golden threads spiraled around him and wove themselves into a rope ladder. When he grabbed onto the ladder, he was hauled clear off his feet and up into the air and into full awareness. As he spluttered, he looked around and realized he was in a pleasant little room that smelled like vanilla and sage, both hands clasped tightly in Shoshanna York’s small, warm hands. Her dark eyes searched him.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he murmured. “I’m fine. Did you get what you needed?”

In strange pulses like a slow heartbeat, he saw Shoshanna as she was, and then a brilliant web of light. His own essence flowed around him, with that bright thread trailing away from him and into the distance like an artery. The pulses slowed, but the afterimage of that thread—the soulmate bond—lingered.

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