Page 25 of The Tribrid Princess and the Taste of Chaos (The Rossi Legacies #7)

“Get them out of here!” I shout. I didn’t come here to be a liability to him; I came to make sure he’s ok. And if he’s here to help those three, then I’ll make sure he gets them out.

“Well, honestly, I don’t know if I should be moved or laugh at the ridiculousness. Do you think you can take on a witch who is far more experienced than yourself?” she whispers, her eyes glinting.

“How about we test it out?”

“Sienna! Now is not the time to do this. Lower this fucking shield now!” Jayce snarls.

I ignore him. I hear him curse and pray he’s gone to help them.

It’s confirmed when the woman smirks. “Your boyfriend abandoned you!” she taunts.

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” I reply icily. “Who are you?”

“I am Velasara. And who might you be?”

She has an accent, but I can’t place where she’s from.

“Mordana,” I answer emotionlessly.

“Mordana… You are a hybrid.” It’s not a question, but a declaration.

“As are you.”

Her smile vanishes. “You noticed… That could be a problem later…” The latter part of her sentence is addressed to herself.

She moves impossibly fast.

A blur of darkness and bloodlust as she lunges, and I barely have time to summon my shield. Shadows swirl around me, thick and impenetrable, as they shield me from her attacks.

I can feel her power hammering against it like a storm, desperate to break free. Her rage is a wildfire, her hunger for death a suffocating force pressing down on me.

Devour her.

For the first time, I don’t flinch at the voice. I welcome it.

I came here to help Jayce. I will not be a burden to him today. I refuse to see the disappointment in his eyes. I want him to see my strength — not my weakness. I want him to look at me the way he did after I destroyed the training room.

“Now that’s a Rossi…”

I want that again, want to see him impressed with me.

Velasara whispers a spell. It’s fast and just a mere few words, yet it’s so powerful. Something invisible twists around the barrier that surrounds me, tightening like a vice.

I gasp, feeling it suck the very essence of my powers. My heart hammers as I unlock one of my butterfly runes and unleash the excess power stored within it. But just like before, her power drains me. Fuck!

Three butterflies later, I’m still struggling to break free from her death hold.

Focus!

Rage and chaos burn through me, and my power erupts just as Velasara manages to shatter my barrier completely. Shards of darkness explode outward. I flick my hand, sending them slicing through the air.

A sharp cry escapes me as I feel her magic burn through me. I blast it away, the smell of blood filling my nose when it hits my barrier.

Blood Magic.

My stomach twists.

I’ve heard of it. The darkest form of magic, feeding off sacrifice. She most likely has an element, but she’s infused it with blood, and blood magic needs sacrifices to fuel it. The air thickens with something evil and vile, and I step back.

She’s playing even when she doesn’t stop.

Attack after attack, relentless and ruthless, she’s teasing me, as if she’s enjoying taunting me.

I block her attacks, a few nicks getting by, but my chest tightens; I’ve burned through my stored power.

How can power accumulated over the years suddenly just be used up so fast?

How strong is she? I see her expression shift. Amusement is now replaced with annoyance, and she’s studying me now, calculatingly.

I may be using my stored supply, but I’m holding back, too.

Never show all your cards. That’s the first rule of survival.

The howling of our whipping magic swirls around us. We have created a violent storm, one that remains within my barriers, three more butterflies to go. What will happen when I’m all out?

I glance at Jayce, who stands there, his moonfire aura swirling around him, his fists clenched and his eyes blazing blue. The three others are nowhere to be seen.

Darkness and blood churn through the space between us. I hear Jayce shout something, but it’s too loud in here and I can’t make out what he’s saying!

I whisper a spell, sending a rain of knives at her. She deflects them as she waves her hand, making them all fall to the floor. Droplets of blood linger in the air.

“You are getting annoying,” she spits. “Time to put an end to you and your friend.”

I frown, not on my watch.

Taking a deep breath, I raise my hands and force my chin up. Even though I can see she’s scratch-free, her clothes and body don’t even have a fleck of dirt on them.

I unlock another butterfly rune and take a deep breath.

Her eyes narrow.

I unleash a violent surge of energy, weaving fire into it, dark-red flames stretching like claws. The room glows hellish as I twist the power in my hands and hurl it at her. The explosion rips through the air, and for a moment, I think I’ve hit her — but the next second, she’s gone.

Too fast.

A shockwave slams into me, throwing me up into the air, and this time I’m knocked into the wall. Fire licks up my spine as pain flares, and I crumple to the floor. A low, feral snarl rumbles through the space and my heart twists.

Jayce.

I can hear the pure fury in that sound. He’s trapped on the other side of the barrier, and with every passing second, he’s getting angrier.

Velasara’s chuckle slithers through the air. She moves like a shadow, appearing above me in an instant, claws bared. My power surges instinctively, raw and chaotic.

The barrier erupts around me, thick and wild, throwing her backwards. The entire room trembles with its force.

She lands in a crouch, licking a drop of blood from her lip, her eyes gleaming with something terrifying.

“So it was you…” she murmurs, amusement curling in her voice. “The one who weakened the barriers. The reason we got in.”

I stiffen.

What?

She’s about to speak when she tilts her head, listening to something I can’t hear. Then she tsks. “Until next time, Mordana. I do hope you survive long enough for me to end you myself.”

Then she vanishes into the shadows.

The moment she’s gone, and I know she is, as I can no longer sense her aura, what is left of my protection spell shatters. Exhaustion slams into me like a tidal wave. My limbs won’t move. Every muscle screams. I roll onto my side, just struggling to breathe.

“Sienna!”

Jayce’s voice is raw with something I can’t name, and then he’s there, dropping to one knee, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. My head spins as he cradles me against his chest. I barely register when he places me on a desk, his hands brushing my thighs, gliding over my skin, examining every wound.

The moment they caress the cut on my inner thigh, a shudder rips through me, and it’s not from pain.

His touch is a fire of desire, his presence overwhelming. He’s close, too close. His hands linger, sliding up my legs, tracing every bruise, every cut, every mark Velasara left on me. His jaw is tight and his breaths uneven.

“Damn it, Sienna,” he growls. His fingers press into the smooth skin of my thigh, firm and possessive. “That was the most reckless thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

I look up at him, but I feel so tired. Just keeping her away drained me, and knowing she could have killed me if she so wanted.

The heat between us is suffocating, but his hands don’t leave me, one hand wrapped firmly around my waist, the other still on my thigh.

I swallow hard, my voice hoarse when I speak. “Did you hear what she said? I was the reason they got in-”

His grip tightens as he cuts in. “Don’t,” he warns, his voice dangerously low. “Not now.”

His gorgeous green eyes burn into mine, dark and intense. I can feel his rage, his worry, his anger and his relief.

His thumb brushes against the cut on my inner thigh again, and this time it makes my core clench with a hunger so intense I swear my heart stops.

“Jayce…” My throat is so dry.

“I got you.”

“Jayce, I...” What do I even want to say?

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Stop saying my name like that,” he murmurs huskily. My breath hitches, my entire body igniting.

I open my mouth to speak, but he’s already moving, and I gasp when his lips brush against the side of my head as he takes deep, steady breaths.

He inhales deeply, and my heart thuds. My core clenches as his hand tightens ever so slightly on my thigh, so close to my hot core…

I am drained, weak. I just fought, but all I want is more of him.

All I need to do is take hold of his wrist and move it two inches higher. His touch is possessive, as if it’s a promise. A warning. A claim.

I can’t help but smile. I really did hit my head hard…

“I can smell you…” he whispers, his voice now dangerously low. And suddenly I forget how to breathe, realising exactly what he means.