Page 123 of Inflamed By an Incubus

Archer’s eyes widened, the surprise the male felt rippling across his face as his jaw slackened and washing over Fenix’s senses. What kind of life had this warlock led to be so shocked by the fact someone was asking him for help? When he had ranted about his past and the things that had happened to him, Fenix had thought he was embellishing everything. The look in his eyes as he stared at Fenix said he hadn’t been. He really had lived a hellish existence, cast out and spurned by his own kind.

“Please, Archer. Evelyn needs you.” Fenix held his gaze, hoping the male would see in it that he needed him too. They all did. If they were going to survive the coming fight and save Evelyn, they needed his strength and his power.

“I will tell my brother.” Vail stepped forwards. “Loren will dispatch an army here to gather this knowledge for you and prevent Archangel from getting their hands on it.”

Archer’s eyes widened a little further. “Loren. Prince Loren of the elves?”

Vail nodded, causing a rogue strand of blue-black hair to fall and caress his forehead. He swept it back.

“I will go to the elf—” Vail grimaced and pain surfaced in his eyes. “I cannot.”

Rosalind stroked his arm, her fair eyebrows furrowing as she gazed up at her mate. “They won’t turn you away. Loren wants you there. What if I went with you?”

“No,” he barked as he looked at her, his face blackening for a heartbeat before it softened and he reached for her, smoothed his palm over her cheek and sighed. “What if they hurt you too?”

Rosalind looked as if she doubted the elves would attack her, but wisely held her tongue as her mate fussed over her, showering her with affection as he stroked her cheek and bent to kiss her. Fenix could understand Vail’s reluctance to go to the elf kingdom. Having been manipulated for four thousand years by a dark witch claiming to be his mate, he had been forced to attack his own kingdom and his people, including his brother, turning him into the number one enemy of the elves.

Now he was free of the witch and was regaining his sanity, clawing his way back towards the light, but many in the elf kingdom still didn’t trust him. Rosalind had told him that Loren was working hard to change their minds about Vail so he could visit at the very least, but it was slow going and his council were still against him.

Hartt approached Vail, a steely look in his purple eyes. “I will go. I will tell your brother everything and make sure you get the credit.”

Vail broke away from his mate, cast a grateful look at Hartt and placed his hand on Hartt’s left shoulder as he nodded.

Hartt disappeared, leaving only a shimmering outline of himself behind.

Mackenzie began to pace.

Seconds ticked by, turning into minutes that each felt like an hour as they waited, and Fenix grew restless, began striding back and forth across the library to work off some energy as his mind trod a dark path, conjuring images of Evelyn in the hands of Drystan.

The gods only knew what he was doing to her.

He feared he would be too late again, that he would fail to save her this time too.

The urge to teleport was strong, but he denied it. If he teleported, the others wouldn’t know where to go, and if he sensed that Drystan was at the country house, he wouldn’t be able to convince himself to return for them. He would fight, and he would undoubtedly get himself killed.

But waiting for the elf to return was hell, sheer agony that ripped at his soul with every breath he took, scoured his insides and made him feel hollow.

Finally, Hartt returned.

With a split lip and black eye, and another elf.

This one had a regal bearing and fine bone structure that reeked of nobility and his appearance was immaculate, from his neatly clipped short blue-black hair to his crisp thigh-length black jacket embroidered at the hem and cuffs with a flowing pattern of silver leaves, and the pressed tight black trousers and riding boots that were so highly polished Fenix could see the library reflected in them.

Mackenzie rushed to Hartt, knocking the other elf out of the way and not noticing his sneer as worry creased her brow. “What happened?”

“I ran into Bleu,” he grumbled and released the elf he had brought with him. “As always, he was not pleased to see me, but thankfully Loren intervened. This is Leif. He pulled the short straw.”

And he looked unhappy about it as he took in the musty library, his lip curling in disgust.

“It’s been nice, but the clock is ticking.” Rosalind pulled the sleeve of her coat back and tapped her naked wrist. “Time to go. Have fun.”

Leif looked as if he wanted to say something as his amethyst gaze landed on Vail.

Fenix didn’t get to hear what it was, because he grabbed Rosalind and Vail and teleported to the spot in the forest where he had landed the last time he had come to scout the mansion.

Only this time, it was pitch-black and eerily still, as if the night was waiting for something to happen.

Archer appeared behind him with Hartt and Mackenzie, shocking the life out of Fenix.

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