Page 110 of Wrongfully Magicked
First, a leg emerges from the nothingness, then the rest of the body slowly follows, until a debonair man steps into the office. Smoke rises from his clothes like he literally stepped out of Hell, which he most definitely did.
He has the appearance of a man in his fifties, which means he’s incredibly old. His dark hair has a touch of gray at the temples, giving him an affable appearance.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
The man is fit, his warrior’s frame dressed in a fancy burgundy suit that shimmers black when he moves, and I’m not sure if the fabric is real or made of pure magic. With a white shirt underneath, the black trim and black tie stand out. Everything about him screams wealth.
A sparkling gold chain is tucked into his vest pocket, but it’s the matching gold pin that twinkles in his lapel that captures my attention—a crown.
Marking him as fucking royalty.
He’s one of the seven princes of Hell.
We are so fucked.
He prowls more than walks, comfortable in his own body in a way that says he roamed Earth long before humans ever evolved. Though he’s nearly seven feet tall, his height makes him look slim. Despite his broad shoulders and thick chest, his body can barely contain his demonic magic.
It’s his black eyes, however, that give away his identity. A red sheen shimmers in their depths. It’s so similar to Anita when she’s playing with hellfire that it’s uncanny.
His shrewd gaze surveys the room, a snarl of distaste curling his lips. When his eyes land on Anita, everything about him stills, then he clasps his hands together and gives the creepiest fucking smile. “Excellent. She’s still alive.”
Despite knowing I don’t stand a chance against him in a fight, I growl at the asshole. “You can’t have her. She’s already claimed.”
“A mate?” His eyebrows lift in amusement, completely unperturbed by my threat. “How quaint.”
Porter and Cassius come to stand behind me, adding their support. Cassius drapes his shirt around Anita, covering her nakedness, and I tuck it close around her. The protection is flimsy at best, but it’s the only protection we can offer her at the moment. It doesn’t burn away on contact, which should be a good thing, but my gut sinks with dread.
It means her powers are now focused inward, trapped inside her body. Without an outlet, she’s basically a bomb waiting to go off. I glare up at her father, daring him to take her from us, which is stupid since he could easily annihilate us with a wave of his hand.
But he doesn’t.
Why?
“You’re a powerful demon. If you wanted to rule this world, you could do it without breaking a sweat.” My beast hunkers low in my chest, ready to tear into the demon the instant he tries to take her. “So what do you want with Anita?”
Hardness enters his eyes, and demonic power floods the room, enough that the foundation of the building rumbles. “My contract is with the Kerringtons. I’ve come to claim what I’m owed.”
“Over my dead fucking body,” I snarl, carefully shifting Anita so she’s behind me and out of the line of fire.
The demon prince chuckles, tugging on the stiff cuffs of his shirt. When he smiles, a double set of fangs flash, and the room practically bows outward with menace. Massive horns slowly emerge from his skull just above his temples and arch eight inches into the air. The ridges and scars show the battles he survived, a clear display of his powers.
As an intimidation factor, it’s effective, but there is no way in Heaven or Hell that I’ll leave her at the mercy of her father, not while I have breath in my body.
“That can be arranged,” the demon replies, the low baritone resonating in my bones like a tuning fork, and my hellhound whimpers when it feels like my beast is being squashed under his boot.
Despite the blood that trickles from my nose, I slowly push to my feet and face off against the demon. If I am going to die, I will die on my feet, defending my mate.
CHAPTER THIRTY
ANITA
Heat burns through me like a fever, and my skin is so hot, I resemble a cooked lobster. My mind struggles to concentrate on what’s happening in the room, and I grimace when the men act like I’m not present.
Like I don’t have a say in my own life.
Since no one is paying me any attention, I grab the contract dangling from Porter’s hand, then push myself up to stand on shaky legs. Though Soren said the contract is tamperproof, it doesn’t stop me from trying to incinerate it.
Unfortunately, nothing happens.
