Page 16 of Magic Unmasked

Morrigan’s laugh echoed through the bayou. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Without warning, she unleashed a blast of dark magic, tendrils of shadow surging toward them with deadly speed. Ronan moved on instinct, shifting fully into his sabretooth form in a blur of muscle and fur, leaping out of the way just as the attack slammed into the ground where he’d been standing.

Zephyr’s magic flared to life, shimmering in the night as he deflected another strike, but the battle was on. Morrigan’s enforcers lunged forward, weapons raised, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust. One of them, a hulking brute of a fae, charged at Ronan, his blade whistling through the air. Ronan ducked, muscles rippling beneath his fur, and with a powerful swipe ofhis claws, sent the enforcer crashing into a nearby tree with a sickening crack.

But there were more. Morrigan’s magic swirled through the air, her enforcers moving in with brutal precision, and Ronan found himself locked in a deadly dance, dodging strikes and deflecting blows as the bayou erupted into chaos.

Zephyr held his own, his magic flaring like a beacon in the dark, but even he couldn’t keep up with the sheer number of enemies pressing in. Morrigan was toying with them, her attacks relentless, her laughter sharp and cruel as she watched the carnage unfold.

Ronan’s heart pounded, the beast within him roaring for blood. But even in the heat of the battle, his mind kept returning to Lilith—her fierce eyes, the way she fought with everything she had, the way she haunted his thoughts even now.

He tore through another enforcer, his claws slashing through muscle and bone, but the question gnawed at him, growing louder with every second.

Could he trust her?

And more than that—could he trust himself to protect her?

Morrigan’s magic flared again, a dark wave of energy slamming into Ronan with bone-crushing force. The fight raged on, but little by little, he and Zephyr were able to beat Morrigan and her minions back until at last they were triumphant.

Ronan was exhausted—his vision blurred for a split second as pain shot through his body. But as he struggled to shake it off, a growl rumbled in his chest. One thing was for certain: his feelings for Lilith weren’t just a distraction anymore. They were becoming the very reason he might have to choose sides. And that terrified him more than any enemy he had ever faced.

Chapter

Seven

LILITH

The morning sun had barely risen, casting long, golden rays through the sheer curtains of Lilith's hotel room, but she was already restless. She had been up for hours, her mind churning with questions and frustration. Every lead she’d chased since she’d arrived in New Orleans had unraveled into nothing—just whispers of magic that slipped through her fingers. The Duvall sisters were elusive, their presence always just out of reach, like ghosts haunting the city without leaving a trace.

Lilith paced the room, her boots thudding softly on the wooden floor as she ran a hand through her hair, frustration gnawing at her. She hadn’t expected this assignment to take down the Duvall sisters to be easy, but she hadn’t counted on it being this difficult. Every time she thought she had a clear path, it twisted into another dead end. The Duvalls were more skilled at eluding their capture than she had anticipated.

She stopped in front of the window, staring out at the city below, her violet eyes narrowing. The vibrant energy of the French Quarter stretched out before her, its streets already buzzing with early morning activity. But Lilith barely saw it. Herthoughts were tangled, her focus slipping as the consequences of her failure settled over her like a storm cloud.

What are they up to?

She could still feel traces of their magic, faint but distinct, like the lingering scent of smoke after a fire. Phoenix’s fiery energy and Savannah’s cool, oceanic presence—they had been close last night, so close, but as always, they had slipped away. Lilith clenched her fists, her jaw tightening. This was supposed to be a straightforward assignment—track down the Duvall sisters, bring them back to the fae realm or eliminate them. But nothing about this assignment had been simple. Not the sisters, not Zephyr, and certainly not Morrigan, whose sudden reappearance only made everything more complicated.

Lilith’s mind drifted back to Ronan. The damn sabretooth-shifter had gotten involved again, disrupting everything as usual. And worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about him—about the heat that simmered between them every time they crossed paths, the way his golden eyes seemed to see right through her. She shook her head, trying to push those thoughts aside. Ronan was a distraction, nothing more. And right now, she couldn’t afford distractions.

Not with so many questions hanging over her head.

She needed answers. And there was only one place where she might find them—the Duvalls’ home in the Garden District—a home that was their stronghold and that would be protected by their magic.

The Garden District was a world away from the noise and chaos of the French Quarter. Here, the streets were lined with ancient oaks and grand, historic mansions, theiriron gates and sprawling gardens a testament to old wealth and power. The Duvall sisters had carved out their own territory in this opulent neighborhood, their home hidden behind layers of magic as thick as the walls that surrounded it.

Lilith approached the house with caution, her senses alert to every shift in the air. The house itself was an elegant mansion, its white columns gleaming in the sunlight, the lush garden spilling over with carefully tended flowers and ivy. But it was the magic that hung in the air, woven into every brick and vine, that caught her attention. The wards were strong, ancient, pulsing with a deep-rooted power that made Lilith’s skin prickle.

She stopped just outside the iron gates, staring up at the house, her eyes narrowing as she reached out with her magic, testing the wards. The moment her power touched them, they flared to life, snapping and crackling hissing at her as if they were alive. Lilith growled in frustration, pulling her magic back before it could recoil against her.

Damn it.Lilith had expected defenses, but this? This was something else entirely. These wards were layered, intricate, and almost impossible to penetrate without setting off every alarm. Whoever had crafted them had done so with the intent of keeping out even the most skilled fae or other magical practitioner.

She stood there for a moment, her mind racing as she considered her options. She could break through—eventually—but not without alerting the sisters to her presence. And right now, stealth was her best option. If she could just find a weak point in their defenses, maybe?—

Her thoughts were interrupted by a flicker of movement in one of the upper windows.

Lilith’s sharp eyes locked onto the figure, her heart skipping a beat. It was a woman, older, with sharp features and silver hair pulled into an elegant twist. She stood in the shadows, half-hidden behind the lace curtains, but there was no mistaking the regal, commanding presence that radiated from her.

Maeve Duvall, the sisters’ aunt who had been exiled from the fae realm when the sisters’ mother had fallen in love with a mortal man.

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