Outrage flared through him. How dare she imply that it would be a punishment to spend an infinity in his company? She should only be so lucky.
Aggravating female.
“Fey don't believe in hell,” he said stiffly.
“I do now,” she muttered, hunching her shoulders. “So what do we do? Sit here and twiddle our toes for the next millennium?”
His annoyance was forgotten as he caught a glimpse of the fear she was trying so hard to hide.
She was terrified beneath her prickly sarcasm.
Barely aware he was moving, he stepped forward, his voice unconsciously gentle.
“I said we couldn't get out, but the spell is connected to the druid.”
“And?”
His fingers brushed a soothing caress over her cheek. “Eventually I'll follow the trail of magic to its source.”
Her expression was guarded, although he was pleased to note she didn't try to pull away from his touch.
“You really think you can?”
This time he didn't take offense at her seeming lack of confidence in his abilities. Eventually she would be forced to admit that he possessed more than superior manners and an exquisite taste in clothing.
For now he contented himself with opening his senses to the thread of magic that he'd latched on to as they'd stepped out of the portal.
He didn't doubt that it belonged to the druid who'd cast the spell. Which meant it was only a matter of time before he managed to get a lock on the bastard's exact location.
Then there would be no mistake that he possessed more than his fair share of power.
“Yes,” he said, deliberately concentrating on the illusion around them.
Before, he simply nudged their surroundings, searching for the way out of the maze. This time, he actively molded the magic to create the image he wanted.
With a wave of his hand the darkness was replaced by a brilliant blue sky and dazzling sunlight. Another wave and the field was a carpet of green grass with a babbling brook in the distance.
“But first you need to rest,” he said.
“Oh.” The imp glanced around in surprise, her eyes widening as she glanced down at the daisies that were springing to life around his feet. “Does that always happen?”
He shrugged. “When I stay in one place long enough.”
She appeared oddly fascinated by the flowers that now began to spread among the grass.
“Amazing,” she breathed.
Magnus squashed the ridiculous urge to show off with a burst of power that would create a profusion of blossoms. Instead, he concentrated on creating a blanket along with several plates of food so Tonya could replenish her strength.
Taking her hand, he urged her to take a seat on the blanket, waiting until she was settled before he was joining her and reaching for one of the plates.
“Are you hungry?”
“I'm starving,” she admitted, taking the plate and studying the fresh fruit and bread that was dipped in honey. “Is it real?”
“Of course.”
She gingerly grabbed a slice of the bread, taking a bite. Her eyes slid closed as she relished the food without apology.
Magnus watched in fascination. This female was no delicate princess and yet there was a raw earthiness that enchanted him in a way he couldn't explain.
“Yum,” she moaned, opening her eyes and leaning forward so she could press the bread to his lips. “Here. Try it.”
He pulled back, suspicious of her teasing. “What are you doing?”
“Don't you want a taste?”
“I . . . yes.” He took the bread from her hand, his gaze never wavering from her face. “You puzzle me.”
She reached for a golden pear. “What do you mean?”
“One minute you are snapping at me and the next you are feeding me,” he said.
“You make me crazy,” she muttered, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of the fruit.
Magnus groaned as she licked the juice from her lips.
Was she being deliberately provocative? Not that it mattered.
He was hard. Aching. The need to have her in his arms was a force that overwhelmed everything.
Including the fact that they were trapped in a druid spell.
“The feeling is mutual,” he assured her, leaning forward to wrap his arm around her waist.
Then, with one tug, he had her lying across his lap, the food forgotten.
He studied her with a brooding gaze, his hand cupping her face as he tried to determine what it was about this woman that continued to captivate him.
She trembled, her body molding against him with remarkable perfection.
“Magnus?” she breathed.
“Hush,” he murmured.
He didn't want to talk. Or think. He just wanted to feel.
“Don't tell meâ”
He stole the words from her lips as he crushed her mouth in a kiss that demanded her complete and utter surrender.
Chapter Sixteen
Cyn shoved the gargoyle out of his way as they exited the portal in front of Styx's lair.
It was bad enough to be traveling through some magical rip in the fabric of space without having the aggravating creature constantly beneath his feet.
With a flap of his wings, Levet scurried out of his way, turning his head to send a glare in Cyn's direction.
“There's no need to push,” he groused, his eyes abruptly widening, his snout flaring as he took in a deep breath. “Ah, Darcy is home. And Abby. I mustâ”
“Stay where you are, gargoyle,” the large Aztec warrior commanded, stepping from the shadows of a nearby tree.
Levet placed his hands on his hips, his tail stuck out straight.
“You are not the boss of me.”
“Thank God,” Styx muttered, folding his arms over his chest as he glared at the gargoyle. “You, however, are going to do exactly what I say. Got it?”
Levet stuck out his tongue. “Bully.”
Cyn stepped toward his king, his body angled to put Fallon behind him. Not that he thought Styx had any intention of harming the Chatri princess, but there was no battling the primitive need to keep other males at a distance.
“What's up?”
“I don't know for sure,” Styx admitted, offering a brief nod to Dante who had moved to stand on the other side of Cyn, his gaze constantly scanning the dark street for any sign of danger. “Before I came to your lair I'd discovered an imp sneaking around my estate.”
Dante gave a short laugh. “You've had a lot of fey loitering since the Chatri royalty decided to use your lair as their personal hotel.”
“Don't remind me,” Styx growled, belatedly glancing in Fallon's direction. “No offense.”
“What about the imp?” Cyn asked, skimming over the awkward moment.
Interspecies relationships were always challenging.
The temperature dropped as Styx bared his fangs. “He was related to Damocles.”
“Damn,” Dante drawled. “It was ballsy of him to come here.”
“My thought exactly,” Styx agreed, clearly still holding a grudge against the imp who'd helped to destroy the previous Anasso.
“Did you kill him?” Dante asked.
“I threw him into the dungeon.” Styx grimaced. “I wanted to know why he'd risked his life to spy on me.”
Cyn hid a smile. There was a time when Styx would have cut out the bastard's heart without giving a shit what information he might have.
Becoming the leader of the vampires had given him at least a small amount of restraint.
A very, very small amount.
“Did you get answers?”
Styx gave a sharp shake of his head. “When I returned from your lair he was dead.”
There was a collective sound of astonishment.
It would be easier to sneak into a harpy's nursery than Styx's dungeon.
“How?” Cyn asked.
Styx flashed his fangs. “Magic.”
“Is that even possible?” Dante muttered, referring to the hexes that were etched into the walls.
Styx shrugged. “That's what the Pestilent Prince claimed.”
Dante lifted his brows. “Pestilent?”
“Magnus.” Styx's tone revealed his opinion of the Chatri royal. “He said that witches used to have the ability to activate a death spell in an assassin that remained dormant until they set it off with a word of power.”
“You think a witch killed the imp?” Cyn asked with a frown. It didn't make sense to send an imp that was already on Styx's shit list to try and kill him.
An assassin had to blend into the shadows, not piss off the mark and get themselves thrown into the nearest dungeon.
Of course, the creature might have just been there to spy on Styx.
“I don't know,” the king admitted. “I assume it could have been anyone capable of magic.”
Cyn glanced toward Styx's lair. “Where's the prince?”
“He was supposed to track whoever had killed the imp then return here.” Styx's jaw tightened. “He never showed.”
Cyn shrugged. It was hard to give a shit what happened to the annoying twit.
“Isn't that a good thing?”
“He has Tonya with him.” Styx's lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Viper has threatened to have me disemboweled if she isn't returned.”
Cyn glanced toward the silent woman who'd moved to stand at his side.
“Would Magnus kidnap an imp?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not. A Chatri male is trained from birth to treat females as mindless creatures, but they would never, ever bring harm to one. It would go against everything he believes in to hold her against her will.”
Cyn grudgingly nodded. He might think Magnus was a silly ass, but he didn't truly believe he'd hurt Tonya. And he doubted that Styx did either.
He studied the Anasso's grim expression. “You're worried about more than Tonya.”
“I don't like coincidences,” Styx rasped. “You were nearly killed by a human magic-user and now one has just destroyed my prisoner before I could question him.”
“You think this is connected to what's happening with the Oracles?” Cyn demanded.
“I intend to find out.”
Cyn knew Styx was right.
It could be nothing, but they couldn't afford not to discover if there was a connection.
“What do you need?”
“I want to find the prince.”
Before Cyn could answer, Fallon was walking toward the center of the street, her expression distracted.
“He was here,” she abruptly announced. “Along with a fairy and . . . a magic-user.”
Styx joined her, bending down to study the faint marks on the road that revealed where a portal had been opened.
“Human,” he murmured, glancing up at Fallon. “Can you trace him?”
Cyn was instantly at Fallon's side, his arm wrapping protectively around her shoulders as he glared at his king.
“Are you out of your bloody mind?”
Styx slowly straightened, holding up a hand as he sensed Cyn's barely restrained fury.
“Easy, brother.”
Brother, his ass.
“The Oracles already put her in danger,” he said, his voice flat with warning. “I'm not going to allow you to put her in even more.”
Fallon clicked her tongue with impatience. “Isn't that my decision to make?”
Cyn kept his gaze locked on Styx.
“No.” Blunt. Uncompromising.
Levet sucked in an audible breath. “
Sacre bleu
. I thought you were supposed to be some female killer?”
Cyn sent the tiny pest a furious glare. “What did you say?”
“Lady killer, idiot,” Dante corrected.
Levet wrinkled his snout. “Either way, he is remarkably incompetent.”
Wicked humor glinted in Dante's silver eyes. “Can't argue with that.”
Cyn couldn't either. Especially when Fallon was roughly pulling away from him.
“Princessâ”
She faced him squarely, her hands on her hips. “Do you intend to tell me what I can and can't do?”
He grimaced. Holy shite. His every instinct was screaming at him to lock her away so she couldn't be hurt, but he'd be damned if he acted like her father.
“No.”
“Good answer,” Dante murmured.
Fallon sent him a last warning frown before turning toward Styx.
“What do you need from me?”
Styx sent Cyn a rueful smile before concentrating on Fallon.
“I want you to open a portal that will take us to Magnus.”
She paused, her brow wrinkled. “I can't sense him.”
“What does that mean?” the king rasped.
Fallon gave a small shrug. “He's either returned to our homeland or there's some sort of magical barrier that's interfering.”
Styx looked like he wanted to cut something with his big sword.
Or someone.
“Damn.”
Cyn's stab of relief lasted less than the time it took Fallon to tilt her chin to a familiar angle.
Stubborn.
“I can follow his portal,” she said, refusing to meet his narrowed glare.
“Thank God,” Styx muttered. “I need you to open a passageway for the gargoyle.”
Levet gave a small squeak. “
Moi?
”
Styx kept his gaze locked on Fallon. “You're not to leave the portal. Levet will get out and search for Magnus.”
Levet toddled forward. “Why me?”
“You're the self-proclaimed Knight in Shining Armor,” Styx reminded the creature. “Aren't you anxious to make sure that Tonya hasn't been kidnapped?”
Levet's wings drooped, cleverly trapped.
“I suppose it is my duty,” he grudgingly conceded. “How will I return home?”
“Trust me. A few hours in your company and the prince will be itching to bring you back,” Styx assured him in dry tones.
With a reckless lack of self-preservation, the gargoyle marched forward and pointed a claw toward the massive Anasso.
“You are fortunate that Darcy has made me promise not to turn you into a newt.”
Styx rolled his eyes before returning his attention to Fallon.
“You understand that you're not to leave the portal?”
“She won't,” Cyn said, his expression unyielding. “I'm going with her.”
Fallon glanced at him with a hint of resignation. “Cyn.”
He held up his hands. “I swear I won't interfere.”
She hesitated, then with a shake of her head she gave a wave of her hand, opening the portal.
“Let's go.”
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Anthony had just returned to the secret chambers beneath his house when he heard the sound of an alarm.
“Now what?” he snarled, heading toward the circle of stones. A few seconds later he was staring into the fire that burned on the altar in time to watch a portal open just a few feet from his front door.
“Goddammit,” he breathed. “How the hell did they find me?” Hissing with exasperation, he sent a pulse of magic through the flames.
Time had just run out.