Page 33 of Wicked Succubus

“NO . . .” I shout, staring down at his still body in shock. I long to go to him, to see if by some miracle he still draws breath, but the sound of approaching steps snaps me back. We’re still in danger, and I need to get Zel to safety.

Blinking back useless tears, I turn away from my loyal driver’s body. “Forgive me, old friend,” I murmur, the words choked.

“Who are these people?” Zel’s eyes are alert as she scans our surroundings. “Is this your father’s doing?” she asks quietly. Whatever they talked about left an impression, and by the looks of it, probably not a good one.

“Definitely not my father.”

Are her eyes glowing? I can’t take a closer look because footsteps are coming closer. She looks afraid, but the dominant emotion on her face is survival. She’s looking at her surroundings to see what she can use to make it out of here alive.

“The prince is here,” one of the figures shouts.

It’s always risky for me to ride the forest trails near the castle without guards, but I can protect myself. I just didn’t think I’d have to take care of another person. I should have thought about this. I’m putting another person at risk just because I hate having a group of warriors watching my every move. The bandits creep closer, emboldened. My jaw clenches in irritation. The royal patrols tasked with securing the castle perimeter have clearly become lax in their duties if thieves feel bold enough to come this close to the grounds.

I brace myself, prepared to defend Zel. Next time I ride out, I will not go unaccompanied. One of them shoots an arrow, and I catch it with my hand. I look over at Zel’s wide eyes. As a group of men swarm us with weapons drawn, we stand back-to-back. I can sense a potent power, but I can’t tell who or where it’s coming from.

One of our attackers throws his bow over one shoulder and reaches for Zel. She lets out a pained cry as he rips her away from me roughly with a taunting glint in his dark eyes. I want to rip his fucking head off, but I try to center myself as I crouch, placing my palm against the ground. It rumbles against my hand as if telling me to call upon it if I need to.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Another one of our attackers moves closer, stepping over Edwin’s body with disregard.

The first man twists Zelyah’s arm behind her back, panting down her neck raggedly. He drags her roughly against him, his free hand roving over her body like he owns her.

“We came here for you, but she’d make a fine bonus, don’t you think?” He shoves her head down so she’s bent over, the slit in her dress revealing the curve of her hip.

“How are you doing, Zel?” I shout back from my crouched position.

“I’m doing just peachy, Agent Cooper,” she answers sarcastically, looking up at me through a sheet of copper hair.

“If it’s me you want, let her go.” I stand to full height, waiting for the right opportunity to make my move. Zel’s eyes shift from me to the four other men closing in on us. She’s telling me something, but I’m not sure what.

She sticks her ass out to grind against her captor, and when his eyes dart down in surprise, she rolls her body to the side and whips up, cracking his nose with the back of her head. I don’t have time to watch the girl move, but she throws a heavy blow to the man’s temple that sends him straight to the ground. The other men move in front of me like a barricade, keeping me from helping Zelyah.

The big man staggers back to his feet, and even though he was here for me, Zelyah just became his prime target.

“Look out!” I shout as he lunges for her again.

“I can hold my own!” she spits. I’ve clearly offended her.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you kill men for a living,” I snap, still watching her rain hell down on her attacker over the shoulders of the men crowding me.

She growls, and that’s enough to know that I’ve pissed her off.

Just as a large set of arms reach for me, I fall back into a crouch and call on the power of my land. The powerful magic rushes into my body, vibrating, begging to be used. Everyone knows that I am powerful, yet there is another force within me, one that remains hidden from even my father’s knowledge. It whispers to me, a primal call from the depths of my being, urging me to embrace the ancient and forbidden. This other side of me, darker and more dangerous, has always lurked beneath the surface of my fae abilities. And now, it stirs with an insatiable hunger for destruction.

When I’d trained as a kid, my mentor Declan, an older fae who had a long black beard, told me to hide that hunger because it wasn’t normal. He was the only one who knew, and he’d cared for me so much. He was more of a father to me than my own has ever been. He was killed in battle, but I secretly think my father did it. Declan was too skilled to be killed in combat. My father had found out that Declan and I’d become close, and he didn’t like anything that could threaten his hold on me.

As more hooded figures close in on us, I will the ground to open wide and consume them. My faerie powers are strong on their own, but there are volatile aspects of my power that are difficult to suppress, and wielding these powers in front of Zelyah is a gamble. I’m facing off against one of the hooded figures who doesn’t seem afraid, but he’s too close to Zelyah for me to use my powers again.

He charges forward, a dagger glinting in the fading light. His arms fly in wide arcs, and the look of menace on his face tells me that he’s not planning to take me alive. Declan’s lessons run through my mind. My attacker relies too much on brute force, leaving himself exposed. I prepare to evade and counterattack. My body responds instinctively, and years of training kick in as I keep my stance wide and remain ready to strike. When the enemy lunges at me, his blade slices through the air toward my exposed chest. I sidestep with lightning reflexes, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of death, and seize his wrist in a vice-like grip. He struggles against me, but I’m quick to counter his every move.

I need to end this quickly. With a swift motion, I aim for his knee, hearing the satisfying crack of bone when I make contact. As he stumbles, I use the opening to deliver a sharp elbow to his temple. He collapses, unconscious before he hits the ground.

My muscles tense and my stance widens again as I prepare for more attacks. My eyes scan my enemies’ movements, watching for any signs of weakness. As an attacker swings a heavy axe toward me, I duck and roll, feeling the wind from the blade as it misses my head by inches. Spinning around, I deliver a sharp kick to the back of his knee. There’s a grunt of pain as he collapses, and his weapon clatters to the ground. I’m quick to disarm him and kick the axe away. Even as I restrain him with a firm hold, ensuring he can’t continue, my senses remain heightened, aware of every shadow and every rustle in the forest. The threat isn’t neutralized yet; another shadow detaches itself from the darkness.

He’s bigger, more cautious, observing the fate of his companions. Our eyes lock as he rushes me, not with a weapon, but with a force intended to overpower. Before I can act, an arrow suddenly sprouts through the man’s throat in a spray of crimson. His eyes go wide in shock, then dim, and his body crumples lifelessly to the forest floor. I whip around to see one of my warriors lowering his bow and looking behind him, signaling more reinforcements. Finally, my guards have arrived. I stare down at the dead man, bitterness rising.

“Seriously, Agent Cooper, I’ve taken down more men than you have, and that arrow wasn’t even yours.” She stands right beside me, panting, and it’s then I notice the bodies littered at her feet and the trails of blood and sweat trickling down her face like war paint.

She was too lost in the fight to notice the earth splitting and swallowing dozens of assailants, but that means she didn’t see how close I came to losing control. I’ve killed so many in training. The fae only have one power that they excel at using. Very rarely does a person have more than one. I fit into the uncommon category.

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