Page 48 of Feral Possession

“Stronger now,” the demon snarled, eyeing the doorway. He stepped back as though preparing to charge.

Dread twisted her gut. Surely, he couldn’t—

He shot forward, rocketing toward the door. No. No. No! Her heart seized. Skipped. Rose out of her chest.

Shadow-Steele crashed through her warding like a wrecking ball on steroids. Energy shattered. The broken shards stung her exposed skin like angry hornets. She yelped, scrubbing her arms and legs.

Heavy footsteps thumped across the great room. Dove sucked a breath. The demon was loose. In a crowded resort. One housing the magister. Eek! Dove lurched to her feet, then hit her ass. Crap. She was loopy from blood loss. Bad demon!

She found her footing and stumbled from the bedroom.

Shadow-Steel stood posed before the back door. The door that led to the fabulous view she and Celeste had appreciated just yesterday. He eyed the same spectacular view. Moonlit skies fat with stars, white sand, and sparkling water beckoned the beast.

“Shadow, wait. You can’t go out there.”

He glared at her, muscular chest heaving. “No cage,” he snarled in a demonic voice.

“Listen to me, please.” Her knees wobbled, and she slid into a puddle at the side of the sofa. “You don’t want to do this.” And neither do I. Yes, the exterior doors and windows were warded, but given what he’d done to the bedroom, she’d have to intervene.

She didn’t want to intervene. Having a power and wielding it were two different things. One should never use force to resolve problems unless there was no other option. From the look in Shadow’s eyes, she’d hit that wall.

Despite her exhaustion, she tapped into the energy at her center. Shadow had left her depleted. Still, there was enough to get the job done. Even weakened, in that moment, she feared harming him. The command she’d given him to release her was a tap on the nose. This would be more of a roundhouse kick to the face. It was a tenuous situation, holding something fragile, knowing you could break it if you squeezed too hard.

“Free,” Shadow-Steele uttered, high on her faerie blood. The power in her veins was some high-octane stuff. Who could blame a guy for losing it at his first taste? She’d done the same after ingesting some shrooms a few years ago. Thought she could fly. Her ankle ached at the memory. Boy, did that end badly.

As he did with the bedroom ward, the demon reared back, ready to charge. Dove did the same, reaching deep into the well at her center, firing up her mystical generator. If Shadow-Steele got loose on her watch, she’d need to leave the country. Heck, the planet, for that matter. There would be no going home to Vivian. No reunion with Armond. Her ass would be grass and the Council the lawnmower.

Then there was Marcus, whose wrath would be epic—once he resurfaced. Enough said.

Shadow-Steele planted his feet, reared back, and charged. Muscles flexed across his broad shoulders. His demonic skin glowed. His powerful body surged forward, a stallion out of the gate. She’d never seen anything so beautiful, yet horrifying. Her mind took a picture, while her heart seized.

The fiery demon hurled toward the door. Half of his charred body was alight with energy. With life. With vitality. The other half, sleek and well-muscled. Together, Shadow-Steele didn’t limp, didn’t hesitate. He appeared whole, focused on his purpose. On freedom.

Which was why it pained her to yank the celestial rug out from under him.

With her reserves on low, she’d need to let it build first. Pressure squeezed her chest, the sensation like she shook a bottle of champagne. Blond tendrils floated off her shoulders, caught in a mystical breeze. Energized coils spiraled down her arms to her palms. Go time. Dove snapped out her hands, thrusting her power outward. Her magic twisted around the demon, sweeping him up into a cyclone. “Rise, spirit,” she commanded, strength in her words. Up he went.

Whoa.

She’d never levitated a living body before, but it made sense. She controlled the spirit, and the spirit resided in Marcus. Therefore, she controlled Marcus. Ehh, or something like that. She was never good with the particulars of how things worked.

Shadow-Steele hovered above the ground, and his spine arched. “No,” he snarled, thrashing in her grip. “What is thisss? Release me.”

Her arms shook with fatigue. Stupid blood loss. “Play time is over, mister.” In the same dark voice, she commanded, “Sleep.”

Shadow’s head fell back, his body going limp. With her tank on empty, Dove lowered him to the ground. Before he was safe, her power flickered and fizzled. Her captive dropped.

Wack!

His skull cracked on the hardwood, and he collapsed in a boneless lump. Oopsies. She winced.

“Sorry, demon.”

Lights out.

Twelve

Firm fingers jabbed Marcus’s shoulder, stirring him awake. Bishop’s tight voice rumbled in his ears. “Boss. Wake up. We’ve got a problem.”

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