It was the pure beauty of her soul as it settled against his.
Cyn allowed the peace to ease away the last of his fury, relieved to feel his bones begin to mend. He couldn’t sense any predators near, but considering his luck lately, he intended to be ready for . . . hell, anything.
Time drifted past, then at last, Fallon tilted back her head to reveal the color had returned to her cheeks.
Thank God.
“You said that you smelled something familiar before we were attacked,” she reminded him.
Lost in the fantasy of the pleasure he intended to share with this female the minute they returned to his lair, Cyn forced himself to recall his shock when the portal had opened.
“Aye,” he said. “Druids.”
She blinked in surprise. “Do you think they’re involved?”
Did he?
Cyn hesitated. As a vampire he had little contact with the druids. They tended to be shy and reclusive, preferring to devote themselves to their studies. They did, however, often reach out to the fey to assist them with their efforts to repair the earth from the endless damage caused by modern technology.
His foster parents occasionally traveled to consult with the elders, even inviting them to visit their small cottage.
Which was how he recognized their scent.
“They’re human magic-users, some of them dangerously powerful,” he said. “And my foster parents were going to speak with them shortly before they disappeared. That makes them obvious suspects.”
Her brow furrowed. “If they were so obvious then why didn’t you mention them before?”
“Because they’ve been devoted to peace for centuries,” he answered. “So far as I know they’ve never used their magic as an offensive weapon.”
“Would they have the magic to gain control of the Commission?”
Cyn frankly didn’t know. The elders might possess powerful magic for humans, but did they have the strength to compel the Oracles?
“Perhaps,” he hesitantly said. “If they were doing it in layers as we suspect.”
She stiffened in his arms, her eyes widening. “Wait. I seem to remember my father saying that he’d had to forbid the druids from performing certain spells.”
Cyn lifted his brows. “What spells?”
She hesitated, clearly searching her memory for details. “I’m not entirely sure, but it had something to do with using fey potions.”
“Potions.” A heavy ball of dread lodged in the pit of his stomach.
The human magic alone was dangerous, but with the potions magnifying it . . .
Shit.
“Yes.” She grimaced, clearly sensing unease. “Father threatened to destroy them if he caught the druids abusing the fey.”
“It seems a few have decided to go rogue,” he muttered, wishing that Sariel had done more than threatened the humans.
“But why would they want to close the portals?”
Cyn felt his fangs lengthen. That, at least, was one question that was easy to answer.
“I would assume they intend to try and finish what the witches started,” he said.
“What?”
“Rid the world of demons.”
There was a tense silence as she slowly absorbed his words. “Do you think they have Magnus?”
Cyn struggled to disguise the sharp-edged anger that raced through him.
Bloody hell. He was ancient even by vampire standards.
Far too old to be caught in the throes of a petty jealousy.
Or at least he should be.
Unfortunately he couldn’t halt the urge to track down the prince and smash in his too-pretty face.
“It’s possible,” he ground out.
The amber eyes darkened with concern. “Will they hurt him?”
He instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her delicate form.
As if he could physically prevent her from thinking about another man.
No. Not just another man.
The fiancé who she’d once promised to share eternity with.
“Do you care?” he rasped.
She studied him with a puzzled expression. “Of course I care. No matter what happened between us, he’s one of my people.”
Knowing he was being foolish, Cyn returned his attention to their current troubles.
Nothing was more important than halting the Commission from performing the deadly spell.
“We need to share this with Styx,” he said. “Can you travel yet?”
“Yes, but it’s daylight there,” she reminded him.
He rearranged her on his lap, pulling out his cell phone. “Damn,” he muttered as he glanced at the screen. “No service. Can you take us back to my lair?”
She gave a small nod, holding up her hand as the world faded to black.
Chapter Eighteen
Anthony stood in the center of the stone circle, dangling an amulet in one hand while he tossed a strand of gray hair into the flames that burned on the altar.
The amulet would allow him to focus his magic, while the hair would call to the one he was seeking.