Page 10 of Magic Unleashed

Maeve’s eyes darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Shit. Then you know how bad this is. The fae have worked with others to keep the balance in this city for generations, Phoenix, but if a man like Fontaine is working with a demon cult, all of that could crumble. The cult’s influence is spreading faster than we thought.”

Phoenix nodded, the weight of the situation sinking in. She had known something was wrong with the sudden increase in demon attacks, but this went far deeper than she had anticipated. “What do we do next?”

Maeve’s eyes softened slightly, her hand resting briefly on Phoenix’s shoulder. “We prepare for war. The cult isn’t going to stop until they’ve achieved their goal, and now that we know they’ve infiltrated the political structure, they’ll have resources we can’t match alone. We need to strengthen the wards around the city, gather our allies, and prepare for whatever they throw at us.”

Phoenix’s jaw tightened. She hated the feeling of waiting, of not being able to charge in and tear the cult apart from the inside. But she knew Maeve was right. They couldn’t rush this—not with so much at stake.

“I’m with you,” Phoenix said quietly, her eyes burning with determination. “Whatever needs to be done, I’m ready.”

Maeve’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before she gave a small nod. “I know you are. But be careful, Phoenix. You’re powerful, but you’re not invincible. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment—especially where Broussard is concerned. He could prove to be your greatest strength and largest vulnerability.”

At the mention of Griff, Phoenix stiffened and rolled her eyes. She hated it when her aunt was being inscrutable. Phoenix’s mind flashed back to the heat of his kiss, the way his body had pressed against hers, demanding and fierce. “This isn’t about him.”

Maeve raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “It better not be. We can’t afford distractions right now. Not with the city’s soul on the line.”

Before Phoenix could respond, Maeve looked to the bar where Griff had been standing. Obviously, he’d followed theminside and gotten a shirt from someone, which was a shame as he really had a gorgeous, chiseled chest and washboard abs.

Maeve’s eyes took in the same sight, and she sighed. “I’ll leave you to it. Be careful, Phoenix. This family has sacrificed a great deal in the name of love.”

Maeve turned on her heel and disappeared into the throng of the bar’s customers, leaving Phoenix sitting alone. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, but Phoenix’s thoughts were tangled in the aftermath of what had just happened with Griff and what they had both seen. Her body still thrummed with the memory of his touch, and it was taking all her willpower not to let it distract her from the mission ahead.

But as she turned back toward the spot where Griff had been standing, she found herself disappointed—he was gone.

Phoenix’s wings stirred beneath her skin, the urge to chase after him, to finish what they had started, clawing at her. But she couldn’t give in. Not now.

The night was far from over, and the darkness looming over New Orleans wasn’t going to wait for her to sort out her feelings. There were too many moving pieces, too much at stake, and too many unanswered questions. But one thing was certain: she couldn’t face this alone.

With a frustrated sigh, Phoenix left the tavern and took to the air, her wings unfurling as she soared above the city once more. The sky welcomed her, the cool night breeze kissing her skin, but her mind was anything but calm. She had to focus. The demons, the cult, Fontaine—it was all connected, and she was going to tear it apart, piece by piece.

But as the city sprawled out beneath her, glittering in the darkness, her thoughts drifted back to Griff. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their paths were entwined in ways she couldn’t yet understand. And as much asshe hated to admit it, he was becoming more than just an ally in this fight.

A storm was coming, and when it hit, Phoenix knew that she and Griff would either be standing side by side—or at each other’s throats. Either way, the battle lines had been drawn.

Chapter

Five

GRIFF

Griff tossed and turned, his sheets a tangle of frustration as the night dragged on. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Phoenix. Her face, the way her eyes burned with a ferocity that never seemed to dim—simmer, maybe, but never extinguished. The way her lips had felt against his. The kiss—God, that kiss—had ignited something in him that he wasn’t ready to deal with. And now, alone in the dark, his thoughts spiraled toward what could’ve happened if Maeve hadn’t interrupted.

He could still feel her body against his, the way her curves had fit perfectly against him, the pulse of her magic thrumming beneath her skin. His dragon stirred restlessly, a heat building inside him that refused to be ignored. His fated mate. That’s what she had to be. The signs were all there—her scent, the way his dragon responded to her, the way he couldn't stop thinking about her. But that was crazy, right? He’d known her for years, and now, all of a sudden, this?

His dreams, when they came, were a heady mixture of heat and longing. Phoenix, back in his arms, her lips on his, her body pressing into him with an urgency that matched his own. Herwings unfurled, the golden light of the fae surrounding them as they flew through the night, intertwined in a primal dance.

But as the dream reached its crescendo, back close to the earth with Phoenix’s hands threading through his hair, her breath hot against his neck, it twisted into something darker. Her eyes flashed with painful understanding, her wings wilting as an iron pike broke through the ground beneath her, driving through her heart, pinning her to the earth. Griff tried to scream, tried to run to her, but his feet were frozen in place. He watched helplessly as her body crumpled, the light fading from her eyes.

Griff bolted upright in bed, his chest heaving. His heart thundered, sweat dripping down his back as the remnants of the nightmare clung to him. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake the image of her lifeless body from his mind. It was just a dream, he told himself, but the dread clung to him like a second skin.

The night was still thick around him, but sleep was impossible now. Phoenix was in danger—that much he knew—and he needed to do something about it. His hands itched to act, to tear through the city and eliminate every last threat that lingered in the shadows. But for now, the best he could do was focus on the task ahead. Fontaine. The Councilman was involved, and Griff needed to find out just how deep his ties ran to the cult.

The morning light filtered through the blinds by the time Griff pulled himself together. He downed a cup of black coffee, the bitter liquid doing little to clear the fog of restlessness that hung over him. His phone buzzed, the notification alerting him that his appointment with Councilman Victor Fontaine had been confirmed for mid-morning. Perfect.

As he shrugged into his leather jacket and headed out the door, Griff pushed the unsettling images from the night behind him. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment,especially not today. This was his chance to dig deeper into the cult, and Fontaine was the key.

The office of Councilman Victor Fontaine was as pristine and polished as one would expect from a man of his status. The walls were lined with tasteful artwork, and the scent of leather and rich wood hung in the air. Griff waited in the plush, high-backed chair, his senses on high alert as his eyes scanned every detail of the room.

Fontaine’s secretary, a petite woman with sharp eyes, ushered him in with a practiced smile. "The councilman will see you now, Detective Broussard."

---