Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
The other participants all looked eager as hell to get going. They also seemed tremendously cocky, certain they had this in the bag.
The Shaman of the mage conclave gave Xavier a look of false sympathy. “You really should have taken us up on our offer and joined our conclave.”
“I prefer to be on winning side,” said Xavier, his voice even.
The fey Lord grinned. “Oh, now that’s cute.”
The Shaman shot the Lord a derisive look. “You lot have no chance of coming out on top either.”
“Neither of your little tribes do,” the demon Prime cut in. He didn’t even look at Wynter or her crew, as if he’d discounted them as no threat.
Anabel turned to her, her mouth tight. “We can’t allow any of those groups to win this.” If there was one thing she disliked, it was being dismissed. Probably because she was fucking brilliant. “I know you wanted us all to keep a low profile, but we won’t be doing ourselves any favors if we let these people believe they’re right to underestimate us.”
“I agree,” said Xavier. “Respect is everything in a place like this. Fear? Even better.”
Delilah nodded. “It’ll mean people are less likely to bother us, and so you won’t be forced to demonstrate how powerful you are to keep us safe.”
“Which would be for the best,” Hattie added.
Wynter sighed, knowing they were right. “Okay, we can give it our all. Mostly. I can’t let out my … you know.” Her monster couldn’t be unleashed here and now.
Understanding, the others nodded.
“I know you’re all about me sticking to the right-hand path,” Xavier said to her, “but you can’t get mad when I use magick to—”
“I won’t,” Wynter assured him, anticipating what he’d say. She cut her gaze to Anabel. “You’re sure you want to be part of this fight? It will mean you’ll have to take a mental backseat for a while.”
“I know,” the blonde assured her. “It’s fine. Clearly these people here need to see that we’re not easy targets.”
Delilah leaned into her. “And you want Diego to see that you’re badass.”
Anabel frowned. “I’m not badass, I’m just the reincarnation of—”
“Whatever,” Delilah interrupted, her hand up. “He’ll be wowed, trust me.”
“Bloodrose Coven, you’re up first!” Bowen called out.
Of course they were.
Wynter led the way as they crossed to the berserker, who looked far too entertained at the moment.
Delilah promptly shifted into a sleek black cat, her pretty gold nail polish still intact. Bowen snickered at the dainty sight of her, and she shot him a look so cold Wynter could swear the air temperature cooled just a little.
Maxim appeared and cleared his throat, his brow creased in concern. “Um … are you sure you want to do this, Hattie?”
The old woman patted his hand. “Don’t you worry about me, dear. I’ll be just fine.” She shifted into a crow and then settled on his shoulder. He froze, looking adorably unsure what to do all of a sudden. Much like Delilah, she hadn’t needed to strip off her clothes because she wasn’t an actual shifter; it was her magick that forced the change.
Xavier conjured his rapier bone sword and swiped it through the air.
“What bone is that?” asked Maxim.
Xavier smirked. “Angel bone. This baby could cut through dragon scales like butter.”
Wynter turned to Anabel, who’d conjured her broadsword. “You ready?”
The blonde nodded, standing tall. “Ready.”
Wynter put her mouth near the blonde’s ear and quietly sang the few select words that would call to the alleged part of her soul that liked to come out and play. “Mary, Mary, please come out.”
Anabel did a slow blink, and then her eyes … they were the same pale blue, but now a hint of madness swirled in their depths. Her posture lost its stiffness, and she gazed around with avid interest, no doubt planning to stir some shit.
Wynter put a hand on her shoulder. “Stab to kill.”
“They’ll all fall,” Anabel/Mary promised.
Anticipation thrumming through her blood, Wynter called to her own sword. It appeared in her hand, dark and shiny.
Bowen gave it a long look, surprised. “You may step into the ditch. Note that the gauntlet will not end until every one of you has crossed the finish line … assuming any of you will reach it. Remember, those that ‘die’ will be spat out.” He jumped when Hattie squawked in his face, and a round of laughs came from the spectators.
Wynter exchanged determined looks with her crew. They each slid under the ropes and hopped down into the ditch. Whoa. She felt the power in the ground beneath her. The slight vibration purred against the soles of her shoes.
Her monster stirred, not quite sure it liked the situation. She tried communicating that all was fine and that this was a mere game. But the intensity of the foreign power unnerved it. A subtle breeze came, carrying a hint of assurance that eventually made her monster settle.