Page 88 of Malcolm

“You’re not an outsider,” Malcolm said, as he approached the other. “You, what pack are you from?”

Beliel pressed a hand against his chest, his eyes bright. “You’re interested in my markings.” His blood-red hair swished behind him like a tail. “Here, I’ll tell you when I’m at death's door.”

Malcolm grinned. “You’re awfully sure, you’ll win?’

Beliel spread his arms wide. “There aren’t many who can say they can beat me.”

Malcolm answered that provocation with action not words; he ran at Beliel. Clashing midair, he didn’t retract his claws and aimed for the man’s throat; he felt the skin rip as he sliced across. The blood scent filled the air, as he followed up with a fist to the other male’s stomach.

“Good,” Beliel snarled. “Fight me.” He drew back and slammed his claws into Malcolm's shoulder only to rip them out cruelly.

Biting back a cry of pain, Malcolm spun, slamming his foot into the man’s neck. He put space between them, placing a hand on his shoulder. His eyes burned as they lost their green color. “Yes, I agree.”

They ran at each other again; their exchange of blows aiming to injure and maul. The crowd stirred as blood fell across the sand. There wasn’t a single werewolf who’d look down on either Alpha, who was fighting to defend their fates and honor.

Eliza could only watch in silence as she saw the wounds grow on Malcolm's body—a body that had already been well decorated with scars. She wanted to scream at them to stop, but that would be wrong. She had to show her faith in her mate; her human sentiments had to be left in the past. She was a witch, and the world she now occupied was far more ruthless than she could have imagined.

During her time at the shade, she’d lived within a bubble. Women who worked at the shade enjoyed a certain level of privilege. Everyone knew that if you messed with one of the witches at Madam's club, you were asking for trouble.

The last people who’d dared to insult witches had lost their business, and the vampires had taken a great interest in them and their families. She shivered every time she remembered the pleading of the men in the club's foyer, begging for his daughter to be returned.

At that time, she’d thought that Lanias was too much. The woman showed little care for anything; the only time she seemed even a bit human was when she was with her sister or her cousin. And occasionally, when the two of them spoke, but that was it.

She often wondered what kind of world the other woman had grown up in to make her so ruthless. But after her stint in hell,she was learning more and more, why people in Veil City often reminded others they were monsters.

Beings: Witches, Shifters, Demons, Gods, Devils, and Fallen Angels lacked that thing that made them human. The enjoyment of life was more important than the woes. They only did what they were interested in doing.

If one had to choose a word for them, it was self-serving.

No one in Veil City did anything for nothing. Even her being hired had served a purpose, though she couldn’t tell what it was to this day. Her inquiries had always been brushed off. She eventually gave up asking and just took it as her luck.

She had endured being treated like an outsider by her family for so many years. Nervously, she rubbed her wrist, where the hand had been sewn to her arm.

“Agh,” a sharp masculine scream brought her back to the present, panic rushing, strangling her. She found Beliel on his knees, and his hand was pressed to his bleeding eye.

Malcolm stood over him, his chest rising up and down rapidly as his upper body sported both dirt and deep gashes. He reached out, dug his fingers into Beliel’s hair, and yanked his head back. “Any last words?”

Beliel stared up at him with his good eye, grinning.

“Last words,” he shouted. “No, McLaren, you’re the one who should be thinking over your last words.”

Eliza immediately became tense as she felt a large wave of magic suddenly let loose all around her. Before she could consciously decide, her body moved on its own just as the ground beneath their feet lit up from the Magic circle there. In a split second, the entire clearing was filled with werewolves, all holding an incredible amount of blood lust.

The stunned silence permeated the area, and no one moved, all of them taken by surprise at the turn of events.

“It’s an attack,” Robert shouted abruptly

The frozen air fractured, and immediately, the site of the Ceilidh was filled with screams and shouts as the guardsmen of every pack rushed forward to fight, just as the women and children ran to hide. Chaos filled the clearing, and Eliza could barely overcome the shock.

“Malcolm,” Eliza yelled in alarm when something slammed into her back. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see Jamie slide down as blood spurted from his chest.

Her eyes widened when she met the cruel gaze of Kirkle’s.

“Hello, bitch.” Kirkle lunged for her his lips pulled back in a snarl.

Eliza spun away creating a wobbly shield to block his attack. Placing her free hand on Jamie’s shoulder she used her magic to transport them. Together they reappeared in the center of the ring. Staggering, Eliza fell against Jamie when his limp body hit the ground.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed her fingers to her throat and let out a relieved shudder when she felt his pulse beating strong against her finger.

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