Page 95 of Cursed Heirs

“Professor Cornwell?” I uttered, taking him in, his long silver hair wild about his face and his suit rumpled.

“Nephilim. We meet again.”

“Are you part of the rescue party? Did my mother send you? Orpheus and my men?”

He sneered. “There will be no rescue.”

A chill rolled down my spine, adrenaline spiking. “What? What are you doing here then?”

“I’ve found a like-minded comrade in Constantine Vale.”

“No. Tell me you didn’t defect.”

“Why would you expect anything different after what you and Orpheus did to me?”

“Did toyou? You were taking advantage of him!”

“It was supposed to be him and me! Do you know what it took to even make a dent in that caustic exterior of his? All those walls he has up? But I did! Then you came along and reaped the benefits!”

“You’re rewriting things to your liking. There was nothing meaningful to your relationship with Orpheus. He made that clear to you.”

“I waited for him!”

“So you couldn’t get what you wanted and you do this? Turn against us all, against what you believe in? You assisted withObsidianto prevent Constantine’s hell on earth, anotherCataclysm.”

He thrust his fist into the wall. “I didn’t care about any of that! It was about getting close to the Dark Prince, you foolish girl!”

This screwed up conversation was eating into my time to get the hell out, likely something he intended.

“We’re done here. Step aside,” I said, gesturing as he blocked my way to the door.

“Constantine has asked me to watch over his property while he’s out wreaking much-needed havoc. You need to remain here.”

I scoffed. “Step aside now, or you’ll seriously regret it.”

“You’re a baby angel. You’re still under the influence of black magic, of him. You don’t really want to leave, you’re just a little conflicted.”

“Save the basic psychobabble. I’ve broken his hold on me.”

His eyes widened as the realization obviously set in for him.

But he still didn’t move out of my path.

In fact, he did a lot worse—worse for him—and called his power.

Before he could do a thing with it, I fired a bolt of my golden fire.

It blew him back into the wall, taking a chunk out of it in the process.

I stormed to him, fisted my hand in his tie, then thrust my palm into his chest.

A dark part of me pushed it further and instead of just stunning him enough so I could get away, I burned him.

He started cursing and flailing as my magic melted through his shirt and into his flesh below.

“I told you I’d melt you,” I found myself seething.

I was reveling in the damage.

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