Page 4 of Magic Unmasked

He gritted his teeth, forcing his beast back down. Now was not the time. His pulse thrummed with the need to act, to move, and yet his tiger prowled within him, snarling as he paced, drawn to her like a magnet.

“You’re wasting time,” Lilith snapped, her voice tight with impatience.

Ronan growled low in his throat, the deep sound vibrating through his chest. “I’m not wasting time, fae. I’m deciding whether I should ditch you and handle this on my own.”

Lilith spun to face him, her violet eyes blazing with anger, but there was something else there too—something she wasn’t letting show. Ronan could feel it, like heat radiating off her. “You’ll lose Savannah if you try that, and we both know it,” she said coldly. “I need you, and you need me. Don’t you want them out of your city? I’d think you’d want to help get rid of them.”

The tension between them sizzled, hot and dangerous. He knew she was right, and that pissed him off even more. The Duvall sisters were dangerous in their own right, and Savannah was the slippery one. If they were going to catch her—and find out why she was summoning portals in the dead of night—they needed each other.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Ronan shoved down the urge to argue. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by the storm of emotions rising in him. They had a job to do.Handle the Duvall sisters first. Deal with Lilith later.

“Fine,” he ground out, his voice like gravel. “Temporary truce. But don’t think for a second I trust you.”

Lilith smirked, though there was no humor in it. “I wouldn’t dream of it, shifter, and for the record I don’t trust you, either.”

They locked eyes for a beat longer, the air between them thick and heavy with unspoken tension. Ronan felt the musclesin his neck coil tight, every inch of him vibrating with the need to move. Finally, with a curt nod, they turned together and started moving through the shadows of the alley, feet crunching on the gravel beneath them as they picked up the hunt once again.

The night around them was alive with sound—the distant thrum of music, laughter spilling out of the bars, and the ever-present hum of magic that pulsed in this city like a second heartbeat. The French Quarter was a maze of shadowy alleys and ancient architecture, the perfect hunting ground for the supernatural. Here, the night could hide anything—or anyone.

Ronan kept his senses honed, his gaze scanning the darkness, but it was Savannah’s scent that guided him. It was fading too quickly, and they needed to move faster if they wanted to catch up. His mind raced with possibilities, calculating, planning. He’d been hunting the sisters for weeks, leaving his beloved home in the bayou, and now one of them was slipping through his fingers.

But every time his focus slipped back to Lilith, the primal pull inside him flared again, like a match igniting a flame.

His beast recognized her. She was fae, for fuck’s sake. How could she be his fated mate? He gritted his teeth, trying to push the thought away, but it clung to him, invading his mind in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“How long have you been tracking them?” Lilith’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and cold.

Ronan glanced at her as they raced down another alley. “Long enough,” he muttered. “They’ve been stirring up shit all over New Orleans. Too bold, too reckless. And now, I’m guessing they’ve pissed off someone higher up the fae chain if you’re here.”

“You could say that.” Her voice was clipped, but there was something guarded beneath the words, something she wasn’ttelling him. Not that it mattered. He didn’t need her secrets—just her cooperation.

The alley narrowed ahead, the shadows growing deeper. Savannah’s scent was weaker now, harder to follow, but Ronan wasn’t giving up. He could feel the pulse of the city’s magic, the way it twisted and flowed around them, thickening in places and fading in others. The Duvalls were good at covering their tracks, but not good enough. Sometimes it could be difficult to track a specific sister as their magical signatures appeared all over the city.

“I’m picking up Phoenix’s magic now,” Lilith said suddenly, her voice taut. “It’s close.”

Ronan’s head snapped toward her, his senses on high alert. Phoenix was the wildcard, unpredictable and dangerous. If she was nearby, things were about to get interesting—and not in a good way.

“You sure?” he asked, his golden eyes narrowing.

“Positive,” she answered, her eyes flashing.

They were close. Ronan’s heart pounded in his chest, the chase heating his blood. But even as his beast surged forward, eager for the hunt, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this fae—Lilith—was going to complicate things in ways he hadn’t expected.

And the worst part? A small part of him didn’t mind at all.

They moved together, side by side, their footsteps quick and quiet against the gravel as they chased the fading trail of Savannah’s magic into the heart of New Orleans.

Fate, it seemed, was just getting started with them.

The scent of old iron and damp wood filled Ronan’s nostrils as they approached the abandoned warehouse. Savannah’s fading scent had led them here, along with something darker, more dangerous. He stopped just outside the entrance, his senses flaring as he took in the scene ahead. The air was thick with tension, and the low murmur of voices echoed from within the warehouse’s decaying walls.

Savannah was inside, her magic flickering like a weak flame, and with it, the unmistakable presence of vampires. The stench of death, rot, and old blood clung to the air, pungent and suffocating. Ronan felt his muscles coil, his beast stirring restlessly beneath his skin. He didn’t like fae, but he disliked vampires even more. The sabretooth inside him was ready, eager for the fight. His protective instincts flared hotter than before.

He shot a glance at Lilith. She stood beside him, poised and calm, though he could see the hard edge in her eyes. Her violet gaze flickered toward him briefly, acknowledging the danger ahead. They hadn’t spoken much since their tense truce, but now wasn’t the time for words. They both knew what was at stake as they slipped inside.

As they crept closer, Ronan’s eyes narrowed, the golden glow intensifying as he strained to hear the voices. It wasn’t just any vampire they were dealing with; it was Julien Crowe.

The vampire crime lord’s voice was low and dangerous, tinged with amusement. “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, Savannah Duvall,” he purred, his words dripping with malice. “Killing Vesper Nightshade was bold, even for a half-breed like you. The vampires of New Orleans don’t take kindly to losing their queen.”

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