“Ah, how tedious. Yet another mortal drunk on his own sense of self-importance.” Cyn clicked his tongue. “It might be amusing if it wasn’t so pathetic.”
The druid tilted his chin, his eyes darting toward the edge of the cave where Styx and Viper were blocking his retreat.
“The spell is cast. There’s nothing you can do to halt it.”
Cyn laughed with mocking amusement. He wanted the magic-user distracted.
“I can kill you.”
The man growled deep in his throat. “That won’t bring an end to the spell.”
Cyn inched toward the edge of the stalagmite. He didn’t know if killing the druid would end the spell or not. And at the moment he didn’t give a shit. All that mattered was getting to Fallon.
“I don’t care.”
Fear flushed the round face. “Of course you do. You’ll die—”
This time Cyn’s laughter was genuine. “You’re even more of a fool than I first thought.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want the spell halted.”
“My mate is a Chatri,” he pointed out. “We can travel to her homeland.”
A sizzling bolt flew in his direction. It slammed into the floor. The entire cave groaned, as if a breath away from tumbling into the tunnel beneath.
“You won’t allow your people to die,” the druid rasped, no doubt trying to reassure himself that he wasn’t effectively cornered.
Cyn stepped forward, his weight balanced on his spread legs.
“I’ll take them with me.”
The druid licked his lips. “Perhaps we can discuss a compromise.”
“Too late.”
Without warning, Cyn launched himself at the rotund form. He wanted to be done with this. Grabbing ahold of the druid, he sunk his nails deep into the man’s arms as he allowed his fangs to lengthen.
He struck toward the bastard’s neck; unfortunately the druid wasn’t going to give up without a fight. With a frantic motion, he reached into the pocket of his robe. Then, pulling out a small crystal, he spoke a low word of power.
There was a sudden burst of light, blinding Cyn and forcing him backward as the heat seared deep into his flesh, threatening to burn him to a crisp.
When his sight cleared, he realized the bastard had taken the opportunity to stand close to Fallon, his hand pointed toward her head.
Damn.
He carefully circled forward. Waiting for an opening.
“Stop right there,” the druid warned, sending Cyn a warning glare. “If you don’t want her dead then you’ll turn around and leave this cave.”
A red mist began to fill Cyn’s mind as his berserker threatened to take command.
“Release her now or I’ll rip out your throat.”
The druid flinched but his composure never wavered. “Back to the edge of the stairs and I’ll send her to you.”
“There’s no bargaining. Release her or die.”
At last realizing that Cyn wasn’t to be bullied or coerced, the druid stepped backward, as if he intended to try and use Fallon as some sort of shield.
Coward.
Cyn crouched, but even as he prepared himself for the coming attack, Fallon was abruptly surging toward the druid.
There was a rattle of chains, then an ungodly scream from the druid as Fallon grabbed his lower leg.
Cyn hesitated.
It didn’t look as if she was doing anything more than holding on to him, but there was no mistaking the smoke that was boiling beneath his robe as she released her considerable power. There was another shriek, and Cyn winced as the stench of charred flesh assaulted his senses.
Accepting that his beautiful princess had quite literally taken matters into her own hands, Cyn took a step backward, already prepared for the sudden explosion of light that rocked the cave.
It was never wise to piss off a Chatri, he wryly conceded, not surprised to discover there was no sign of the druid as the smoke finally cleared.
Behind him he sensed Styx and Viper cautiously moving forward.
“Holy shit,” Viper breathed, coming to a halt beside Cyn as he studied the delicate female who’d just turned the druid into a small mound of sizzling tar. “That was—”
“Awesome,” Cyn breathed. “Fucking awesome.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fallon couldn’t halt a small smile as she rose shakily to her feet, her hands still tingling from the massive release of power.
She’d felt sick to her stomach as she’d sensed the druid melting beneath her touch. It was, after all, one thing to possess the power to kill, and quite another to actually take the life of another.
Even an evil despot like the druid.
But while she struggled to overcome her moral qualms at killing, she couldn’t deny a stab of pleasure as Cyn regarded her with blatant pride.
He wasn’t horrified by what she’d done. Or chastising her for taking a risk.
He thought she was fucking awesome.
Holding her vampire’s gaze, she waited for him to gently twist off the iron shackles as if they were made of clay. She grimaced, belatedly realizing just how much damage the iron had done to her.
Tenderly Cyn lifted her arms so he could kiss the three-inch band of seared flesh.
It would eventually heal, but until then it was going to drain her strength.