Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
He fired another, and another, throwing them at my people so that I would have to spread my power around.
“Should I just firebomb him?” Cyra shouted over the melee. The other mages yelled and screamed as they dove to the floor.
“No, you’ll ruin Arthur’s house,” I said, remembering the note Sebastian had sent with the dress.
Most importantly, if anyone attacks you with magic, return fire. It doesn’t matter who it is, attack back.
He’d clearly meant himself all along.
I didn’t hesitate, deflecting his spells and firing spells back, faster than the last time he’d seen me. I’d been practicing. My spells were more complex, too, a few downright nasty and done to perfection. I didn’t have a life anymore, not outside of our convocation and magic, so there’d been plenty of time to practice.
“My goodness,” he said, standing in the middle of the doorway now, his hands moving faster. Faster than mine. He was still way more experienced. “You might be more powerful than me, my dear Jessie, but you have a lot to learn.”
His spells started to eat at my defensive layers now. These were spells I hadn’t seen before. Spells he’d probably created for just such an occasion. He got one and a half off to my one, still trying to hit my people as well as me.
I took the onslaught, pushing to go faster. Slamming spells home, hitting him with all my power.
“I am more powerful, yes,” I gritted out, “and I have a bigger team.”
I shot off what I called a time finder. It didn’t do much but blast him with light. He squinted and flinched, giving Austin time to rush him. Dave was right behind Austin, snarling, his hair puffed out.
Sebastian swore, entirely genuine. The ground at his feet flashed, and then he was gone. Vanished.
Austin ran through the area, and Dave ran just beyond it, their arms out, searching.
“How did he do that?” Austin asked, out of breath. “Is he just invisible? I can’t feel his presence.”
“Tristan, can you see him?” I looked around, but Tristan was gone.
TWENTY-FOUR
Tristan
That feeling had to be her. The tug. The pull he’d felt for the last hour. It didn’t feel like her, though. He’d know her essence anywhere. He didn’t feel it now.
He walked quickly along the hall upstairs, near the wall, blending in so thoroughly he’d be invisible to anyone but a gargoyle. His footfalls were silent on the plush carpet. His gut still churned.
They’d helped Jessie. They’d wanted her to come. This had to be part of their plan, somehow.
So why was his gut churning? He had an amazing internal warning system. It almost never failed him.
Had she…changed? Had something caused her to lose herself?
Had he failed her by not being there when she needed him?
The feeling was just up the way, in a room with a closed door. He snuck closer, standing outside of it. He could feel a presence in the middle of the room. Then it moved toward the outside, probably a window.
He burst in through the door, moving as fast as he could go. She turned around with a terrified expression that squeezed his heart. He hated seeing her scared and hated it most when he was the one who’d caused it. Her knife was up in a flash, though, her reaction speed amazing, and she slashed at him.
He batted it away with the same hand that reached for her throat, their version of a hello. He gripped then tightened, cutting off her air and carrying her onward. At the last moment, near the window, he veered and slammed her against the wall.
Her hands fell against his chest lightly and her eyes closed, as a little smile played at her lips. The energy around her, dulled a moment ago and now sparkling, danced and twirled between them—a relief the likes of which he’d never felt. Her eyes opened slowly and her pupils dilated with desire, her body relaxing as he pushed up against her.
Her scowl said her body was betraying her mind. She didn’t want to like someone like Tristan: bad news, morally gray, unapologetic about either. She didn’t want to like someone who had so many traits similar to her because she hated those parts of herself. She was in constant turmoil about them. About her past, one she’d never spoken about. He wished she’d trust him with the burden. That she’d trust him at all.
“Hello, little monster,” he growled, loosening his fingers enough to let her breathe. He leaned down to run his lips along the shell of her ear. “What are you doing here?”
She shivered and dug her fingers into his pecs, pushing a little.
“How’d you feel me?” she whispered angrily.
“Your essence is altered. Why?”
“I got those books you sent me. On energy. It was you, wasn’t it? You keep haunting my steps.”