“I’m not leaving,” he repeated for what seemed to be the thousandth time. “Somehow I’m going to rescue my mate.”
“Are you so certain that Fallon wants to be rescued?” a male voice drawled as a portal unexpectedly opened and a man with long hair the shade of rubies and eyes that were the color of cognac suddenly appeared. “It’s very possible she’s happy to be home.”
Cyn whirled to glare at Magnus who was dressed in his usual GQ style with black silk pants and a jade silk shirt.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled.
The Chatri prince strolled forward, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but the moonlit meadow.
“Tonya insisted that I offer my assistance,” he forced himself to say.
Cyn blinked in surprise. He barely knew the imp.
“Where is she?”
A faint smile touched Magnus’s face, easing the annoying arrogance.
“Training her replacement.”
Styx made a sound of surprise. “She’s quitting the club?”
“She will soon be a princess. If she insists on managing a club, then it will be ours, not some vampire’s,” the Chatri said with obvious pride in his fiancée.
Cyn gave a shake of his head. The thought of Magnus and Tonya opening their own club . . . it boggled the mind.
“I’m sure that went over well with Viper,” Styx said, amusement threaded through his voice at the thought of his friend’s explosive reaction to losing his best manager.
Magnus shrugged. “She promised him that I would assist in reuniting Cyn with Fallon.”
Hope sparked to life as Cyn studied the man he’d so recently wanted to kill.
“You can get me into fairyland?”
Magnus shook his head. “No, but I can see if she is willing to come out.”
“Do it,” Cyn commanded.
“Wait, Cyn,” Styx muttered, sending the prince a suspicious glare. “Do you really trust him?”
Styx hadn’t fully forgiven the Chatri for turning his lair into a fey hotel.
“I don’t have a better plan,” Cyn muttered, his gaze locked on Magnus. “Get her.”
“Only if it’s what she wants,” the prince warned, moving across the meadow and lifting his hand as he opened an invisible door to his homeland. “I won’t force her if she decides to stay with her family.”
Cyn scowled. He refused to believe for a second that Fallon didn’t want to be with him.
It was unthinkable.
“Just go.”
Magnus disappeared as he stepped through the doorway, leaving behind a Cyn who was so tense he could barely stand still.
“I don’t like this,” Styx growled.
Cyn wasn’t crazy about it either. It wasn’t as if he had a reason to trust the Chatri. Still, he didn’t have a lot of options.
In desperate need of a distraction, he turned back to his companion.
“Have the Commission bothered to pass along their thanks for preventing them from nearly destroying the world?” he asked.
Styx rolled his eyes. “No gratitude, but Siljar did say that they have been gathered in one place for too long. They’ve decided to depart for their individual lairs.”
Cyn smiled. It was traditional for the Oracles to remain spread around the world to prevent too much power in one place. It was only because of the numerous threats to the world that they’d remained in the caves for so long.
“I’m sure you’re heartbroken to have them out of your territory.”
“Good riddance,” Styx said with feeling. “I just want a few centuries of peace so I can enjoy my mate without constant interruptions.”
“Agreed.” Bloody hell. The thought of spending the next hundred years or so with nothing to do but hold Fallon in his arms sounded like paradise. “If I ever get my hands on my mate.”
Styx placed his hand on Cyn’s shoulder. “She’ll come.”
As if on cue, there was a tingle in the air and Fallon stepped into the meadow closely followed by Magnus.
His entire body shook with a gut-deep joy, his arms spread wide as she dashed across the frozen ground to toss herself against his chest.
“Cyn,” she cried softly, her hands wrapping around his neck as he hugged her so tightly he feared he might leave bruises.
Still, he couldn’t loosen his grip.
She’d been stolen away from him.
Taken to a place he couldn’t follow.
It was going to take a few decades before he ever let her out of his sight again.
“Fallon,” he groaned, burying his face in the silken cloud of her hair to absorb her intoxicating champagne scent. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I know.” She pressed her lips to his throat, sending a jolt of aching pleasure through him. “I could scry you, but my father had blocked my room so I couldn’t leave.”
“Bastard,” he muttered, lifting his head so he could run a searching gaze over her slender body. “Are you fully healed?”
A brilliant smile curved her lips. “Yes.”
He flinched at the memory of watching her collapse beneath the impact of the Commission’s magic.
Christ. She was lucky to be alive.