Page 122 of Samhain Savior

Striding through the halls of the Dubois mansion, all I wanted was blood.

Blood of the vampires who threatened my mate.

Blood of the hell hounds that were wreaking havoc all around us.

And my own blood, for being stupid enough to allow Delilah anywhere near this fucking party.

All around us, chaos reigned, with vampires and lesser demons locked in frenzied battles, the hounds racing through the churning mass of bodies, nipping and gnawing at any available limb they passed, mindless in their need for destruction.

And through it all, my mate walked, head held high, following the pull of her magic toward the second piece of the Fallen Key as it called to her.

“This way,” she instructed, snaking through the labyrinth of passages and darting around the decayed corpses that littered the once-pristine wood floors. “I can feel it.” Her words were soft, her eyes unfocused, as though her vision was out of focus, using only her magic to guide her.

She looked ethereal, like a dream made flesh as she tipped her head back and opened her other senses.

“Through there,” she whispered, gesturing to a wide wooden door at the end of the hall.

Mex went first, moving quickly and pushing the door wide so that Vine could follow. Once they’d cleared the room, I guided Delilah through the door, my own senses scouting the space. It was a kitchen, the cabinets stretching along the walls from floor to ceiling. The place was immaculate, shiny and spotless, as though no one had cooked in it in a long time.

Which made sense, considering vampires preferred their meals to have heartbeats.

Mex was circling the kitchen, opening cabinets and muttering to her self in French. Vine stood by the door we had entered through, ready to stop anyone fromfollowing us. I hovered near my mate, letting her magic work through her.

“Outside,” Delilah breathed, her gaze now focused on the darkened garden beyond the open doors. “She went outside.”

“Wait, Delilah,” I called, my attention catching on a sound that didn’t belong.

Movement, coming from a concealed door next to the pantry.

But Delilah paid me no mind.

“If we hurry, we can still get it.”

“Witch,” I warned, my focus split between her and the sound in the pantry. Deciding the threat was the immediate priority, I reached for the door, ripping it open and right off the hinges.

Only to find two mice in the bottom, fighting over some long-forgotten scraps

Turning back to Delilah with a frustrated growl, I watched as she darted through the grand kitchen, making her way to the open French doors that led into the darkened garden. The more she opened herself to her power, the more she glowed, that light within her bright enough for everyone to see. Her hands were wreathed in white light, arcing energy dancing between the tips of her fingers.I didn’t think she was even aware it was happening, lost in her search, magic leaking out as she neared her target.

She was so distracted by her hunt that she didn’t see the hulking Vampire step out of a darkened alcove, his face etched in anger as he reached for her.

“Delilah!” I called, my shadows reacting automatically as they reached for her, but I wasn’t fast enough.

Arnaud, that fucking bastard, intercepted her, slipping between our circle of protection and snatching my mate right before my eyes. In her shock, she released her magic, the glow falling away and leaving me blinking against the sudden gloom of the kitchen.

“Got you,garce,” he whispered, leaning down and dragging his nose along Delilah’s cheek, inhaling deeply. “She smells delicious, demon,” he taunted, deranged eyes locking on mine. “Like lavender. I bet her blood will taste like a spring morning.”

My body shook, the sight of him touching Delilah, the feeling of her revulsion and fear seeping through the bond, was more than I could handle. Inside me, my demon thrashed, angry and impatient and demanding release, but I held firm, resisting the change with all my might.

“Let her go!” My words were rough, barely words at all around the rage that choked me. I moved toward them,intent on retrieving my witch, but Arnaud shook his head, holding her before him, and I froze.

“That’s quite close enough,” Arnaud snarled, his one arm holding Delilah securely to his chest, the other threaded into her hair to keep her from wriggling. Delilah’s eyes were wide, and I could feel her trembling fear through the bond, but she remained outwardly calm. My pride for her flowed between us.

“Archer,” she whispered, a plea, but I couldn’t look at her.

“You have one chance here,” I growled, not taking my eyes off Arnaud. I needed to see him. Needed him to see me. “Let her go, and I just might let you live.”

It was a lie, and we both knew it.