Page 19 of Of Flame and Fury
“No,” Koda growls. The brutality he’s known for undulates his posture and voice. “I’m not leaving you, and I’m sworn to protect Celia.”
“I’m relieving you of your charge,” Celia says, speaking fast. Her face reddens. It won’t be long before she loses control and her golden tigress demands out.
“Celia, this isn’t negotiable,” Aric tells her.
“Neither is my family,” she replies. Her raspy voice quakes, and the irises of her tigress temporarily replace her own. “What you’re asking of Taran gives me a chance at life. I need to give that same chance to Emme and Bren. The only way is by allowing Shayna and Koda to stay.”
Misha abandons the masters who demanded an audience and marches forward, ready to break someone in two. “Enough of this. We’re wasting time we don’t have.”
We have a choice to make. But when the walls crack and the ceiling splinters, the choice is made for us.
Chapter Seven
I can’t say what happens first or even second. Everything hits us at once.
A witch standing guard at the main entrance halts the fleeing mob with her staff as they attempt to exit the manor. She screams and drops her staff when something hauls her up and out of sight. Her staff clangs against the exterior marble steps, and buckets of blood and broken bone rain down, saturating the gang of witches who rush to help. That’s it. That’s how the witch goes down. One moment she’s calming the anxious crowd and preventing a stampede; the next, only pieces of her remain.
My arm floods with light, and I aim. I never get a look at what killed the witch or have a chance to fire. The ceiling along the foyer breaks, and a large chunk crashes on a table filled with champagne flutes. The wall splinters, and several antique paintings topple along the marble staircase. The movements, the disorder, everything is too fast to track.
I’m hauled backward by Gemini.Werestake point in front of us and behind, creating a barrier of hulking bodies to guard Celia.
“Protect the Mate,” Gemini commands.
Those who aren’t beasts answer Gemini’s call, “Mate protected.” Those who are reply in a cacophony of roars.
Another scream at the entrance. Another shower of blood and bone. The thing near the door isn’t merely fast, it sucks you up and regurgitates the pieces.
Genevieve’s anger and vengeance blaze through her yellow stone, scattering light as bright as the sun across her incensed features. “Proteggerli le, mie sorelle,” she orders.Protect them, my sisters.
A rainbow of colors lights up the space as the witches amplify their power with their talismans.
Misha eases closer to Celia and lifts her hand, placing it over his heart. “Celia Wird, as you pledged your friendship to me, I pledge my will and life to you.”
She yanks her hand away. “No,” she tells him. “Find your way out, Misha—youandyour family. Don’t you dare worry about me.”
“You ask the impossible,” Misha replies.
Misha gives Aric his back when Aric pulls Celia to him. Aric doesn’t growl or warn him. Misha is serious about his promise. And Aric…Aric’s open to anything that will save his mate.
The vampires hiss and extend their nails to dagger-length.
Weresbare their fangs and claws, puffing out their chests, raring to charge.
The witches chant in their respective tongues, their magical stones casting a wash of rainbow light when the chandeliers and sconces flicker out.
Terror-filled screams announce the death of two more guards. Everyone is angry, scared, or poised to strike.
I jump toward the fray but am hauled back, unable to move.
I don’t bother turning around, knowing who’s keeping me in place. He’s so freaking fast, I didn’t even see him move. “Aric,” I bite out. “Let me go.”
“I don’t know where you think you’re going, but you need to stay with Celia,” he orders. “She needs you.”
“And I need what’s out there dead, so it doesn’t hurt her.”
He releases me, speaking through his teeth. “Just follow the plan.”
Aric pulls Celia and me to the far left when something large crashes against the wall from the opposite side of the room. Cracks spider from the center, depressing it outward. From the entryway, a British vamp casually passes by with a drink, muttering something about the inability of “yanks” to chill vodka to perfection and how the witches don’t make enough to pay the electric bills. Somehow and someway, those who remain in the ballroom are still partying away.