Page 36 of Love Bites (Timber Creek #2)

CHAPTER 36

MAX

Creeping towards the Doge Palace, we found a shadowy corner where we had eyes on a side entrance. I pulled my own shadows around us, cloaking us further, and waited.

After a few minutes, Summer tapped my arm, then her nose, pointing to a man who walked by across the plaza. I saw the vampire too, presumably making the rounds and checking entrances.

“I can’t sense any wards. Can you?” Summer whispered from beside me after he’d passed.

I nodded. “They’re witch-made, probably layered with the Conclave’s own magic though. And you don’t need to whisper; my shadow magic has us fully concealed.”

“I can’t help it,” she said, still whispering. “You can’t be a secret agent and talk at a normal volume. It doesn’t fit the aesthetic.”

Even amidst the stress of the moment, she had me fighting back a smile. Another guard went by, their patrols closer together than I would have thought. Had something alerted them?

“What about Malachi? Do you have any connection to him to sense if he’s nearby?”

I shook my head. “No, we don’t have mental connections like wolves do.”

Usually, that seemed like a good thing. The last thing I needed was anyone in my head. But right now? It’d be pretty damn useful if I could sense his presence in the city and use it to track him down.

Time slowed agonizingly as we waited, the only sounds the lapping waves nearby and muted conversations of tourists heading back from their late night out.

I’d meant it when I told Summer I’d bring her back. This was a mission, not a bucket list worthy trip. But I still had trouble reconciling the rest of what she’d said — that this wasn’t a transaction. After the wedding reception, everything felt different — felt like we both wanted more.

Did I even know how to do that? How to be in a relationship without strings? Without scales constantly tipping and rebalancing?

“There.” Summer leaned in closer, her voice barely more than a breath, her lips all but brushing my cheek.

Any other time, I’d have her pushed back against the building and take her lips with mine.

Instead, I forced my instincts to behave and followed her line of sight. A man dressed like a tourist — khaki shorts, Venezia shirt, white sneakers, camera around his neck — strolled casually by the palace, glancing up at it in interest.

Apparently oblivious, he smacked right into the vampire turning the corner on their rounds. In a split second, shadow surrounded them both.

Silence cut out from the scene, Summer and I both holding our breaths to see what happened. When the shadow retreated, only one figure moved on.

The ‘tourist,’ arms behind his back again, carried on his stroll.

The guard vampire lay slumped against the side of the palace.

Summer gasped. “Did he kill him?” She tilted her head, listening hard.

“Just knocked out,” I reassured her, nudging her attention to our right as the vampire’s body started to disintegrate from the stake in his chest. “Let’s get closer.”

We crept over to the side of the palace now, crouching near the door itself. From deep inside, a rumble of magic spread, skittering over our skin. I locked eyes on Summer, and we both felt the unmistakable sensation of the wards dissolving.

One quick nod was all I allowed to reassure us both before I wrenched open the side door, ushered Summer in, and closed it behind us.

We’d spent the last few hours memorizing the floor plan, so we took off through the halls, staying quiet but making straight for the room Rhain had mentioned. I kept my shadows wrapped tight around us in case anyone was wandering the halls.

I was about to cross another hall when I froze at the sound of leathery wings rustling behind us. Pushing Summer back into an alcove, I caged her in with my body and covered us with as much of my magic as I could muster.

Her chest moved, but she stayed silent, hands on my sides. My heart raced, the predator within me rising to the surface and all too pleased to have Summer pinned like this. The gold rim around her eyes said she didn’t mind it either, but when the rustling faded, I backed away.

Shouts, muffled at first then growing louder, began somewhere off in the palace, and my heart rate accelerated. Whatever was going down had kicked off. We needed to find Malachi and get out, now.

I took Summer’s hand, hurrying us along until we came to the prisoner’s room, the door shut. Indicating the door to Summer, I stepped back, letting her press in close and listen with her shifter hearing.

Heart pounding seconds later, she stepped back, meeting my eyes and shrugging.

Nothing?

I reached for the handle, magic zapping up my arm that made me wrench it back, shaking it out. A ward, but not a strong one. Probably just a trip to let the spell-caster know it had been crossed.

“Shit,” I muttered, then forced the door open, the lock breaking with an ear-splitting shriek of metal.

Summer’s hands flew over her ears. I entered the room first, the space lit by only one candle. Dim light flickered over the small space, empty except for the figure tied to the chair in the center, iron cuffs around their wrists and ankles.

Their head jerked up, then jerked again at the sight of us.

“Massimo?” My father’s voice was hoarse, barely a croak, like he’d been starved or deprived of water, or hadn’t spoken to a soul in days.

Dried blood covered his brow, trailed down his neck, though any wounds they might have given him were already healed with his magic. Except for —

“Where are your wings?”

He flinched, even though my words were barely more than a whisper. Summer’s eyes widened in horror, looking between us.

Hurrying forward, my shoulders twitched at the thought, my own wings currently hidden. His would grow back, eventually, but it didn’t make the archaic practice any less barbaric.

“What about your magic?” I hissed at the spelled handcuffs, cursing as I tried to work out how to free him.

He barked a bitter laugh, his head hanging low.

Summer kneeled behind him, trying to free his wrists while I worked on the ones binding his ankles to the iron chair.

“You won’t open them,” Malachi said, weariness coating his every syllable. “They’re coated in endless layers of magic, centuries in the making. You need to get out of here before they see you, before they have any idea you got past their guards —”

A second door on the far side of the room creaked open, and we all froze, staring.

A dark-haired female vampire stared back at us, equally shocked. Her deep blue eyes flashed to her predator’s red before switching back as she took in the scene. Silently, she closed the door behind her, her blood red robes sweeping around her.

She made to rush forward. In an instant, I was between her and Summer, shadow and lightning coiling in my palms.

“ Sbrigati , Massimo. Hurry, hurry!”

My eyes narrowed. Another person knew my real name? Just how many people had my father told about me? If the fancy, brocaded dress was any indication, this female was one of the Conclave herself.

“Max,” Malachi’s voice broke through my confusion. “She won’t hurt us.”

I turned slightly back towards him. “What the hell —”

The vampire took my movement as indication to rush forward, quickly going to my father’s side and kneeling.

“Hey—”

My protest cut off when I saw the flash of silver, a key sliding out of the long sleeve of her dress.

I met Summer’s eyes, both of us too stunned to speak.

“This isn’t how I thought we would meet,” the vampire said, an Italian accent to her words, as the first cuff clanked open. Malachi let out a breath of relief as he stretched out his leg.

My heart stopped. My gaze jerked to Malachi, seeking confirmation. He gave a tightlipped nod.

“Massimo, meet Giana Lazzari. Your mother.”