A burst of light fills my vision, and I sidestep the assaulting magic with ease, the heat of the blast nearly singing the hairs on my arms. The woman isn’t so lucky. The attack hits her squarely in the abdomen. A brilliant, blazing fire of green drills into her.
She sinks low, her knees cracking against the grimy stone.
Damn, that did end quickly.I lower myself, kneeling next to her, waiting for her life to leave her body.
I’m like a wide-eyed child waiting to open a gift. Unfortunately for her, that gift is her fucking soul.
To my surprise, she lifts her head to the men. A cruel smile pulls at the corner of her mouth.
My lips part as I stare at her.
That was a killing blow. A rattling last breath should be shaking her lungs, not...
Is she laughing?
I don’t know what’s going on, but I think I like her.
“I told you not to push me,” she whispers with a quiet chuckle.
The green energy that seeped into her chest explodes out of her with more force than I’ve ever seen. It hits the fearful attacker in the center of his body. The man slumps to the ground with a sickening thud, and Jeriko is there in an instant like a starving dog.
Life, shining and bright, leaves the man’s body. It’s an apparition of who he used to be, and Jeriko gives it a five-second head start before racing after the departed soul. The man almost gets away before Jeriko’s body dissolves into a chaotic, swirling mass.
The magic of the Wild Hunt turns her into an ominous mass of destruction. It grows into a smothering shadow, looming high above us before crashing down on the bright soul. Her dark essence wraps around the man, blanketing him until she absorbs his soul entirely.
Euphoric energy twirls all through my body, making me sigh at the feel of it. The other two men of the Wild Hunt mirror my peaceful look. Jeriko’s lanky frame turns solid once again. She looks up to the heavens with a satisfied smile slashing across her face.
The woman’s quick movements catch my attention. Her palms slam hard into the cobblestone. Trembling stones shift beneath my feet, grinding together loudly. The attackers stumble back and begin to run. Their voices ring out in shouts that create a beautiful symphony in the night air.
As the world shifts for one unsteady second, I’m jostled as the pavement cracks under her power.
My boots stumble and I fall forward. Hard.
Warm and calming heat meets my fingertips as I crash into the woman. She holds my weight, but we both hit the ground with a jarring impact.
Silence settles in. Our breaths fan together, gravity pulls my long hair around our faces. Her fingertips dig into my arms, sending warning bells off inside my head. She stares up at me with eyes just as wide as my own.
Oh. No.
“Fuck.”
2
Merrick
The scarthat slashes over my right eye pulls tight as I lift my brows. My brother, Basilus, second in line for the throne and son of Queen Lairis, angles in toward Queen Portia. He takes too much, a thought I have often when it comes to my ambitious brother. Now, he is taking up too much space.
My attention flicks from Basilus to King Deonairdus who leans back casually into his seat while speaking to my father. If he sees the way Basilus is flirting with his wife, he does not show it. Queen Portia, with her silky brown hair and perpetually sun-kissed skin, is pretty and young. Not too much older than Basilus and me, if I am remembering correctly.
She reminds me of Queen Valentina, my father’s third wife. She, too, is young, three months younger than me, to be exact. Queen Valentina’s beauty far outweighs that of Portia’s though. Even now, I catch myself staring in her direction.
Her white-blonde hair has been tucked into delicate curls behind the glistening diamond crown. The only color her skin seems to hold is the pink that has been dusted across her cheeks and at the very tip of her nose. The soft blue gown that hugs her petite frame makes her look as if she was born from ice. My father likes her to look this way to accentuate her fair complexion.
She lifts her attention to meet my gaze, catching me for the second time tonight. Where Portia’s eyes are so dark they eat up the light, Valentina’s are so strikingly blue they brighten her face even further—her irises remind me of fog over the ocean.
Enchanting. Mysterious. Dangerous for a man like me.
She’s one of my father’s wives, after all. She’s a carrot dangled in front of my face, always out of reach and never for me to truly have.
