Page 22 of Midnight Queen

As soon as the address for the industrial building came up on her screen, the purple-haired human was running to the exit before I had a chance to thank her. She’d walked out the cheery yellow front door with her middle finger raised at Lorcan before disappearing into the night.

A gun goes off too close for comfort, making my eardrums ring. A millisecond later, my temple burns as the bullet grazes my skin. With a deadly growl, I turn on the shooter. The triumphant look they had been wearing vanishes the second I’m wrapping my hand around their throat.

“You missed,” I snarl before I crush their windpipe with my hand. They fall to their knees, lips turning blue as they attempt to pull air into their lungs, but it’s no use. It’s a function their body is no longer capable of. I don’t stick around to watch them slowly suffocate. Instead, I push them to the concrete and step over their suffering form.

Another guard rushes at me, pistol raised. The bullets rip through my chest and torso, but they don’t slow me down. So long as my head remains on my body, I cannot be killed. I move toward him and rip the gun from his hands. Before he has a chance to reach for the other one strapped to his thigh, I’ve positioned myself behind him. Kicking his legs out from under him, he falls to his knees, and I twist his arm so violently it rips from his body. The sound of his screams is sweet music to my ears.

Letting him go, he reaches for the place his arm should be with his remaining good hand. I’m not sure if it’s the shock or the pain of what’s happened but his eyes roll back in his head as he loses consciousness.

Without a care, dismembered arm still in hand, I walk away from him and stalk toward the building Quincey’s being kept in. My men had been smart by setting off the explosive. It drew out all of Gideon’s men and one by one we’re taking them out, clearing a path to her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of Gideon’s men huddled behind some discarded crates. A large rifle sits pressed to his shoulder. I’m in front of the barrel, blocking his view through the scope before he can pull the trigger.

He’s just lifted his head when I swing the severed arm still in my grasp at his skull. I slam it into his face with such force, I hear bones break. Whether it’s from the arm or the man’s face, I’ll never know. And frankly, I don’t care. His head whips back and before he can recover, I’m dropping the arm and grabbing his face in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, I snap his neck.

Lorcan appears at my side, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did you just use a severed arm like a baseball bat on that guy’s head?”

Wiping my bloody hands on my pants, I shrug.

“That’s fucking brilliant. I’m a little jealous I’ve never done that before.”

I gesture at guards that are still alive. “There’re plenty of arms still out here. Pick one and have fucking at it.” Lor keeps pace with me as I continue to walk toward the building.

His sable gaze looks around at all the candidates, before swinging back in my direction. “This is my Christmas.” With that, he takes off back into the fray. Less than five seconds later, a scream splits through the air, letting me know he’s found his victim.

Continuing toward the dark building, my body hums with anticipation. Like an addict who hasn’t gotten their fix, my body craves to have her near again.

When the soft footfalls come from behind me, I don’t slow down or turn around yet. These guards have no idea who they’re up against or that no matter how quiet they try to be, they’ll never be able to sneak up on me. I wait until they’re just close enough before whirling around. They lift the gun in their hand, intending to shoot me in the face, but before they can so much as blink, I’ve taken the weapon from them and tossed it aside.

My lips pull back in a snarl and my fangs drop. “Now what are you going to do?” I taunt.

Frantically, he pulls the knife from his tactical belt. His hand shakes when he thrusts it toward me. Laughing, a noise that sounds cruel even to my ears, I take the knife with the same ease I took the gun. “You never stood a chance,” I mutter before thrusting the knife through his eye and into his brain

I’m just about to pull the blade from his skull when the scent washes over me. It’s faint and blending with the scent of all the spilled blood out here, but it still hits me like a semitruck. My muscles lock and my chest seizes as my head snaps in the direction of the building.

“Lorcan!” I manage to call out. I release the knife hilt, completely forgetting what I had been doing just seconds prior. Glancing around the dwindling battle, I find him standing in the middle of a handful of recently fallen men, with a severed arm in his hand. Blood is sprayed across his face and when he laughs manically, his white teeth are coated red.

He looks like the very thing people have feared and written stories of for centuries.

In a second, Lor is at my side. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his chin and mouth. He’s just about to drop his hand when his body goes stiff and his head snaps up, nose flaring. “What isthat?”

The possessiveness inside of me doesn’t want to admit it, but he needs to know. “Quincey’s blood,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “She’s close.”

I wasn’t naive enough to believe the sweet scent of Quincey’s blood would only affect me, but I had made it my mission that no one else would ever find out. It was myjobto ensure she was never injured—that her blood wasneverspilled.

Looking between the building and me, his pupils dilated, Lor says, “Well fuck, now I get why you like her so much.” He makes no effort to hide the greedy inhales he takes of the air. “If I had a woman that smelled like that, I’d never let her leave my bedroom. I’d be fucking and feeding all day long.”

Without warning, my fist darts out and connects with his sternum. Grunting, he doubles over but instead of making sounds indicating he’s been hurt, he simply laughs.

“Go through the back. I’ll go through the front. If you find her before I do, do whatever it takes to ensure she makes it out of this building alive.” Lor nods his head in understanding before starting to walk away. He only gets five feet before I’m calling out to him one more time. “And Lor? I’m trusting you to stay in control when you’re around her. Keep your fangs to yourself.”

His eyes roll in his head. “Contrary to popular belief, I have excellent control. Have you ever heard the term organized chaos? That’s what I am.” He takes off before either one of us can say anything else.

I know that Lorcan has mastered his control. If I didn’t, I never would have asked him to come assist me. The problem now is there isn’t a single fiber of my being that trusts Quincey’s life in anyone’s hands but my own. The past twenty-four hours have broken something in me.

The front doors are unlocked and open without protest. With my senses on high alert, I move through the dark building. Compared to the gunshots and fighting outside, it’s shockingly quiet within these walls.

Or it would be if there weren’t two heartbeats beating wildly just behind the next set of double doors.

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