Page 60 of Hell Fae Prince

“Fuck,” the Hell Fae King gritted out, still trying to free himself from whatever was happening between us.

It had all gone down so fast, the crowd just now seeming to notice something was wrong.Very, very wrong, I thought, searching again for my mates.

The three of them were coming toward us now.

But I couldn’t let them reach me and Lucifer.

If they touched us, they might get sucked into whatever the hell this was.

“Take us to the Hell Fae Realm,” I told Lucifer.

He glared at me. “No. No fucking way am I letting you near my Source.”

“I don’t know what’s happening!” I snapped at him. “And I don’t want to risk Az, Ajax, and Melek being stuck in whatever the fuck this is!”

His attention went to the three fae trying to get through the crowd to reach us. Meanwhile, mine went to the ghost lurking nearby.

She was still here.

Her blonde hair waving in an invisible wind.

Her lips pressed into a disapproving line.

Her gaze piercing.

Only for her visage to be obscured as someone moved right through her ethereal form.

A fucking ghost,I thought, trying to shake the image from my head.I’m losing my mind.

The strands of power were growing rapidly around me, the icy kiss tracing goose bumps over my arms and legs.

I tracked the energy, searching for the source of the spell again, wanting to unravel it.

Zakkai, I realized, trying to find him in the crowd.

But there were too many fae.

And this was all happening in the blink of an eye.

“Lucifer!” I shouted as he tried to again yank himself away, only for more of his power to surge into me.Throughme.

I felt it pouring into my being and going somewhere deep, to a cavern I didn’t quite understand.

But that cavern was linked to the magical energy swirling around my dress. I could see it now, the energy strands almost tangible.

I tugged on one as Lucifer wrapped his arms around me. “Hold on,” he demanded.

Then the world disappeared.

As did Lucifer’s touch.

But the energy remained, capturing me in a cloud of chilling fog.

The frosty tendrils writhed, pulsed, and beat at my spirit. Angry and cold. Fierce and terrifying.

I yanked on the mist-like strands anyway, determined to free myself from their frigid grip.

Searing warmth sliced through me, drawing a scream from my throat as fiery fingers dug into my very soul. I shoved it away, not wanting any of it.