Page 28 of Fae Divided
Baring his teeth, he forced his muscles to loosen, and his heart rate to slow. His mind to clear. To focus on destroying the Elven Lord and surviving the attempt. James’ death would trigger Sarah’s; Ca’anam lives were irrevocably linked.
Unacceptable.
The Sídhe straightened his cuff with a tug and moved toward his sleek black Mercedes idling in the drive, turning his back on Grayson, the incapacitated pack, and James.
Tail horizontal and stiff, he dropped his shoulders and muzzle low. It was now or never.
He left the cover of the farmhouse, swiftly and silently coming within attacking range. The pureblood Fae reached for the car door, and James sprang. He aimed for the back of his neck, planning to sever the cervical spine, disabling him long enough to rip out his throat.
“Loisg,” the Sídhe cried, his hand extending toward James with otherworldly speed.
The spell caught him mid-leap, his wolf dropping like a stone. His body burned from the inside out, his fur untouched. Liquid fire filled James’ chest, his lungs. His stomach cramped and heaved. Blood boiled beneath his skin, spreading like molten lava to his limbs. His body convulsed.
Although his mind was consumed with agony, he instinctually closed the mating bond. Shielding Sarah from the unimaginable pain, but losing the hold on his wolf form in the process.
“Hurts, does it not?” The Fae Lord crouched beside him, his metallic eyes mesmerizing.
James bit his tongue to keep from screaming, meeting the Sídhe’s dispassionate gaze with all the disdain he could muster.
“I had hoped towinyour cooperation, warrior,” he said. “I can be a benevolent master.”
James strained every tendon in his neck to look pointedly at Grayson. The Alpha’s face had lifted, but his eyes were glazed. The pupils blown as though heavily drugged. The once-proud shifter still kneeled in the dirt.
“Go to hell,” James said, wheezing. It hurt to draw breath, to speak. The tissues in his throat burned raw.
The Elven Lord shook his head and sighed. “Ah well, I guess we will have to do it the hard way then,” he said, palming the underside of James’ neck as he began to chant.
The touch seared his flesh like a hot poker, obliterating nerves, burning through muscle, and hitting bone. James pulled in air through his nose, heart banging against charred ribs. His Ferwyn healing abilities stretched to the limit.
The ancient magic the pureblood spewed went deeper than skin. It ripped at his soul, tearing a strangled scream from James’ ruined throat. Bright lights floated at the edges of his vision, narrowing to a pinprick. His last thoughts before passing out were for Sarah.
His Ca’anam was going to be pissed he’d broken his promise.
Chapter 13
Something had goneterribly wrong.
Sarah entered the Harbor Complex’s chandelier-lit foyer with determined strides. It was almost six a.m., the perfect hour to catch the queen before she retired for the day.
The mating bond had been blocked for nearly two weeks now. At first, Sarah hadn’t been overly concerned; there were a hundred reasons James would choose to restrict her access again. Temporarily. But it still hadn’t reopened two days later when she arrived on schedule and found the hotel room reserved but empty.
She’d waited all night for James. A gun with a silencer attached laid in her lap, both illegal for a Fae Touched to carry on American soil. A fully charged Taser rested within reach on the bedside table. She’d purchased a mini GPS tracker online and hidden it in her shoe. A sticky note on her computer screen would direct whoever went looking to its locator app—just in case.
James never showed, but surprisingly neither had anyone else. It gave her hope things weren’t as bad as they first appeared. That optimism faded as the ongoing silence stretched from one week into the next.
Sarah forced a smile and turned the corner, passing the prince’s lavishly tattooed witches standing sentry to get to the shifters performing the same duty farther down the hallway for the queen.
“Sarah, what can I do for you?” Mikhail asked politely, the handsome shifter’s bald head smooth, his complexion the velvety brown of a mocha latte. The traditional Ferwyn’s curved tulwar and small shield hung from his belt.
“I need to speak with the queen.” She nodded at Guard Jessup. The male was armed to the teeth, his sword, round shield, and several guns on open display.
Mikhail leaned forward, his nostrils widening. “What’s wrong?”
Sarah took a deep breath and then another, trying to rid herself of the peppery scent of anxiety on her skin. “I have to talk to Lady Rose. Please, Mikhail.”
“The commander is in with Prince Myles. Should I call him for you?” He reached for the comm unit on his shoulder.
She grabbed his hand, stopping him. “I need the queen, not my brother. Not yet.”
