Page 76 of The Prince's Curse

“I hope you come to your senses,” Marlee said. “I would hate to have to take you out.”

“Big talk considering Jonas and Kristina are both alive and well,” Scarlett said. “You can come for me any time. I remember training camp in Seattle.”

The other woman let out a soft laugh and said, “Sorry things turned out this way, Scarlett. You were a good hunter.”

She bit back the retort and waited to hear the door snick closed. She made herself wait a few minutes that felt like days. Finally, she fished out her makeshift fork-wrench and dropped to the floor to keep working.

Her doubts about Armina were no longer the vague and ominous uncertainty they’d been two days ago. Seeing those marks on Marlee’s arms just confirmed that Armina was up to no good.

You don’t know the first thing about magic, she reminded herself. Wasn’t it possible that Armina really was putting a spell on the hunters to make them stronger?

So why hadn’t she started with Scarlett, who’d been living under her roof for years? Especially with mere days before she was supposed to go after Julian, after months of telling her she wasn’t ready?

No, she was done giving her aunt—no, that woman—the benefit of the doubt. Gritting her teeth, she secured the bent tines around another bolt and pulled as hard as she could.

Three more bolts till freedom, until she broke free into whatever unrecognizable world lay beyond that door.

Chapter 17

It had been far too long since Julian Alcott got to charge into battle with his brothers. As much as he had complained about being sidelined for the last few months, it only seemed right that he was finally getting to rejoin the fight against Armina Voss, nearly two hundred years after the Midnight War that had begun all of this.

The tracker in Scarlett’s pocket had led them to an upscale suburb outside Charlotte, North Carolina. The witch did not live in a hut on chicken legs, nor a moldering building draped in cobwebs. Instead, they had gathered at the edge of a sprawling property that could have been any one of a dozen uninspired mansions built in the late nineties.

Warm light glowed from dozens of windows in the red brick facade, belying the dark magic of the mansion’s inhabitants.The smell of Night Weaver magic permeated the air with its dead, dried-blood smell.

And in that tangle of death, he smelled Scarlett, rich and alive. If he concentrated, he could hear a slow, even heartbeat that had to be hers.

Using his arcane sight, Misha Volkov had detected the perimeter created by Armina’s protective spells. He’d assured them that he could get through, but his face was paler than usual, a sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead. Kneeling in the grass, he clutched his enchanted blade tightly as his lips worked silently.

At Julian’s side, Paris was practically twitching with nervous energy as he watched his soulmate work. “Come on, mon chou,” he murmured. “You can do this.”

The powerful scent of Misha’s magic crackled in the air, and Julian curled his hand around the enchanted shortsword Misha had made for him. The air heated, and there was a distinct sensation of something snapping against his skin. Misha gasped in surprise as red light surged from his hands.Lights flicked on inside the house.

With a growl, Misha slammed a sharp red stone down into the ground, then fell back to shield his face. Searing white exploded around him, and he rolled onto his back. “Go,” he croaked. Misha tossed Julian the small silver bracelet. “It’s not all down, but it won’t be as bad.” Before Paris could ask, he lifted a thumbs-up and said, “I’m fine, zaichik, go.”

As soon as he secured the bracelet, Julian leaped into action and said, “Follow me. Remember to disable them without killing.” The last thing they needed was another nasty curse from one of her apprentices.

In a split second, there were half a dozen quick steps, then silence as the Nightwatch burst into action. Dark forms zipped through the shadows and bounded across the lawn. They each had their targets, and Julian’s was the window next to the front door. Without slowing, he smashed through the window and landed in a crunching pile of glass. Black threads of magic entangled him like the spell in the parking garage.But with a burst of heat from his wrist, the threads fell away.

He stood in a dark dining room. Decorative plates rattled on the wooden table as someone else slammed against the side of the house. The smell of Armina’s magic was much stronger here, but so was Scarlett’s scent.He followed her enticing scent down the hall and into a dimly lit living room that reeked of Carrigan Shea.

Drawing his blade, Julian prepared to kill the bastard once and for all. But instead of the older, brawny vampire, there was a petite blonde woman. Her fangs gleamed in the light, but her eyes were deep black voids. Dark marks like tattoos swirled over her collarbones and throat like a collar.

Her dark eyes widened, and then she jolted as if someone had yanked her back. He swiped at her with the blade, and she dodged easily, uncannily fast. And instead of going for him, her nose wrinkled, and she dashed down the hallway he’d just come from. Seconds later, Safira shouted in surprise.

He shook off the confusion and found Scarlett’s scent. It led him through the living room, past a kitchen where a forgotten kettle steamed on a burner, and to the stairs. He leaped up the stairs and cut a sharp corner to?—

There was an oof as he barreled into Scarlett Ward and tumbled across the landing with her. She swore, wriggling under him and pushing at his chest. And damn him to hell, but he couldn’t help thinking about how nice it would be to have her beneath him like old times.

Not the time, he scolded himself.He lifted himself up and saw those brilliant green eyes staring up at him. And then she smiled, apparently unfazed. “Oh, hi,” she said. “I guess you didn’t want to wait to break in.”

Another boom shook the house, and light flashed downstairs. A shout of fury rang out, startling him from his distraction. He scrambled to his feet and offered her a hand, feeling a bit disappointed about not getting to play the gallant knight. But here was his love, on her feet with a shackle around one wrist and a chain dangling from it. Her other hand was bloodied and bruised, but she looked otherwise unhurt.

“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching for her wounded hand.A plate still hung from the chain, making it clear she’d unscrewed it. Sexy and resourceful. He had to appreciate that, even if it interfered with his knight in shining armor fantasy.

She pulled back and brandished her shackled wrist.“Yes. I need this off. Anything you can do? When I try to break it, her magic takes over and I can’t make myself do it.”

He brought her hand to rest against his chest, then pried his fingers under the cuff. Runes illuminated on the metal, leaving it hot to the touch. As he pulled, she started to back away, gathering the loose chain to her chest protectively.

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