Page 133 of The Nymph Prince

That’s precisely what I’d do.

I gave the signal, and my unit responded with a clank of their shields. With Malik to my right and Reif to my left, we left the coverage of the field and charged. Troy was behind Malik, and I had faith that Malik would keep him safe.

Eva had stayed behind at my order. She was to be a healer for the injured warriors and not join in the fighting.

Captain Orta shouted from the woods before her unit joined us.

The adrenaline gave me strength, and the rage…oh the rage…it propelled me toward the temple.

I’d kill them all. I wouldn’t stop until their blood coated my hands and their bodies littered the ground around me. Once my reason for existing had been torn from me, I didn’t fear death. I feared nothing. A man who had nothing but his rage had nothing to lose.

King James’ army was hacking away at the dark mages when we arrived. But the mages weren’t going down without a fight.

A human soldier was thrown backward by an invisible force, and a sword went through the side of his neck. Another soldier stood in place, shaking violently, as blood pooled from his mouth. He had no visible wounds. He vomited more blood before collapsing.

Troy sent an arrow whizzing through the air, hitting a woman between the eyes. She’d been moments away from attacking a soldier from behind. He acted fast and sent a second toward another mage. He moved with accuracy and speed, a true warrior.

“I love helping people,”he’d told me once.“Eva is showing me how to be a physician.”

He’d never hurt a single soul, and now he was killing people.

No, not people. The enemy. The same enemy who killed my mate and planned to take over the world. They had to be stopped at all costs.

Heads rolled and screams filled the air.

Reif moved like a shadow, killing men with a single blow before moving on to the next. I was looking directly at him andstillhad difficulty following his movements. The silent death.

Malik cut down every mage in his path, decapitating some and gutting others. Blood spilled, adding a splash of red to the dark night. When he was knocked backward by a magical force, I looked for the one responsible.

A young man, probably no older than me, had his arm outstretched and focused on my guard. The purple glow of his eyes briefly flickered out before brightening. He must’ve still been learning how to use his powers. He was young and had probably been forced into this war by his parents.

It mattered not. An enemy was an enemy.

I took a dagger and hurled it toward him, burying the blade in his left eye. He fell backward and shook on the grass before stilling.

Malik was released from his hold and nodded to me before raising his sword and swinging at another mage.

And so the fighting continued.

King James was nowhere to be seen on the battlefield. Not in the least bit surprising. I suspected he was tucked away in his comfortable tent while his men gave their lives in his name.

I lost count of the amount of men and women I’d killed. There was no time to dwell on the number. A second of hesitation, a moment of doubt, could give the enemy the advantage. Kill or be killed. That was the only thought that mattered.

War made monsters of us all.

***

I wasn’t Lorcan anymore. I was a man I failed to recognize; bloodthirsty and ruthless. No matter. After the battle, if I was still alive, I’d concern myself with the aftermath of my dark thoughts. Without Alek, though, I knew I’d never go back to the person I used to be.

When I came upon a group of mages, I gave a wicked smile.

“Kill each other,” I said, using the full-force of my persuasion power. “And whoever is the victor? Slit your own throat.”

With their eyes wide with fear, they turned and faced each other. I saw their struggle as they tried to fight the order. But they couldn’t. One thrust a small blade into the other’s neck, crying out as he did. Maybe they were brothers. Or lovers. I found that I cared not. The third man attacked the other, and after a tussle, he stood as the victor.

“Finish it,” I growled.

With his gaze on mine, he lifted his blood-drenched blade with shaking hands and slid it across his throat.