Page 53 of Guardians of the Assassins
Thanks to the curse he carried, he was tainted.
They would no longer see him as one of them, but something to be used like the wolves. Despite his age and power and being blessed by the gods, he would be considered a prisoner of the court.
A shadow rippled across Aoibh’s face. For just a brief flash, a second face appeared underneath—that of a haggard, emaciated old woman. It was like getting a glimpse of her soul, where darkness had its deathly grip tightly wrapped around it.
The bitch wasn’t going to give him up without a fight.
Plans for him already swirled in her pale blue eyes.
Caedmon flinched at the threat, just a slight flex of muscle in his jaw before he could hide it.
He didn’t want to return, and she feared that there was nothing that she could do about it without causing a war.
The hunter moon on her arm heated, then got so cold, it went numb. Through the gauzy material of the gown, she saw shadows moving over the surface of the moon, the red darkening to an ominous shade of blood.
Caedmon was in trouble.
Stomach churning with dread, she whirled toward Caedmon. He stood rigid, his muscles straining, a rumbling growl trapped in his chest.
Like he couldn’t fucking move.
“Stop!” She placed her hand on his arm and energy surged through her so strongly, her back bowed, her muscles locked tight, and her teeth clinked shut. She inhaled through her nose and breathed through the pain. Her magic rose at the challenge,and she closed her eyes as she absorbed the painful shocks, pulling it from Caedmon until he was free.
Shouting erupted throughout the room, and she gritted her teeth as the void magic swirled through her core in agitation. It wanted out, wanted free to rip apart those who would dare harm what was theirs.
Caedmon didn’t feel the invasive magic creeping over him until it was too late. He tried to fight back, tried to shuck off the magic, but it had sunk into his bones and taken root. His beast roared in his head, his claws and teeth slashing at his insides, desperate to break free.
But the wolf had been leashed.
Aoibh had always been a bitch, even when she tried to bring him to heel back when he had been a royal guard.
And his defiance had gotten him volunteered on a mission that was guaranteed to kill him.
Only he’d survived, and now she wanted him back.
Everything inside him rebelled at the thought of leaving Morgan, especially when she was in such danger. But as the seconds ticked passed, he could feel his will fade.
It would be so nice to return and protect Faerie once more.
Back where he belonged.
A light touch landed on his arm, then the hand clamped down, and the wild magic trying to control him was stripped away like flesh was being ripped from his bones.
He instantly recognized that touch.
His mate.
Morgan.
His beast howled in denial as she pulled that toxic magic away and took it as her own. The debilitating pain rippled through her, and his beast completely lost his shit. With a roar, hegathered the ruined magic deep in his core that he had vowed never to touch again.
He used to have a talent for manipulating animals. When he became infected by the self-defense measures on Tartarus, his magic mutated.
Hebecamethe beast.
With the effects of the wendigo fading, he discovered a taint remained.
A craving for magic.
