Page 142 of Fated In Blood

Malachi waved his hand in the air, then yanked the knife from his shoulder with an annoyed grimace. “Marten can handle himself. It’s you who’s in trouble, Evangeline.”

“Oh, fuck off. Is this where you call in your favor? I already told you; I don’t owe you shit, loser.”

He inspected the blade, a droplet of red blood dripping down the edge, and my fucking mouth watered. He was already healed, the bastard, but I didn’t have time for his shit. I had to get back to Blake.

“You don’t want to push me any further than you already have. In case you haven’t noticed, your situation is dire. But I”—the bastard had the balls to bow to me—“am here to save the day.”

“I see why Blake and Riordan despise you. Now take me back where you got me.”

“Dinner was far more interesting than I’d expected. I was quite surprised to see you’re immune to Laurent’s power.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I should have expected this, knowing what little I did about Malachi. A master manipulator never missed an opportunity to exploit others for his own gain, and this…

I didn’t know what he wanted, but maybe Tyrell not being able to control me was a far bigger deal than I’d imagined.

“He tried to compel you, he failed. He got a knife to the throat, which, I must admit, is worse than a knife to the shoulder. You are quite stabby for a newborn.”

“You were seeing things. Probably should get yourself some glasses, old man.”

“I have a proposition for you. Since Riordan and Blake don’t have a chance in hell of getting close enough to Tyrell to kill him, that leaves you and me. Unfortunately, we’re a bit crunched for time as Lord Tyrell has sent his entire army after you. What do you think are the chances you and I can get to Tyrell before he kills your lovers?”

“Mychances are pretty damn good.”

“Unlike your lovers, I can move freely in and out of the castle. I can get to Crimson House and procure the dagger. I can also put you in the same room as Tyrell, and it appears he can’t compel you.” His grin was the epitome of slimy. “Those are pretty good odds, if I do say so.”

“The odds are far better you’ll sell us out, steal the dagger for yourself, and we’ll end up dead. Thanks, but no thanks.” I snorted. “Besides, the dagger won’t kill him. You heard him—he’s immune to silver.”

“The daggerwillkill Tyrell.” Malachi’s grin vanished. “He’s not as immune as he thinks, and everyone has their Achilles heel.”

I didn’t even know where we were, but my adrenaline spiked as shouts echoed from somewhere far away. I had to get back to Blake. Or find Riordan and we’d both go help Blake. We’d had a plan, and this asshole was fucking everything up.

Malachi pinched his lips together. “This is one of those situations where you have to take a leap of faith, even when your instincts are telling you one thing and your logic another.”

“Trust me, my instincts and my logic are telling me the same thing. You’re a lying sack of shit, and anyone who trusts you will end up dead.”

The next second, he was right in front of me, one big hand banded around my throat, my back pressed to a wall. “Where is the dagger, Evangeline? Tell me so I can retrieve it. We have minutes, at most, and you are wasting time. You are going to cost Riordan and Blake their lives because you cannotfucking trust anyone.”

“I don’t know,” I lied, trying to sound nonchalant while pinned down like a bug. “And even if I did, I’d never tell you.”

“Then you are all going to die.” He sounded genuinely remorseful when he released me and stepped back, straightening his crushed-velvet dinner jacket. “And there is nothing I can do about it.”

“You’re right. I don’t trust you.” I spread my hands. “Take me back to Blake. Please. Let me at least help him fight Valaine.”

For a moment I thought he’d comply, then his face shifted, from pity to shrewdness. “Since trust is the issue, perhaps I should follow Tyrell’s lead and give you a demonstration. As the humans like to say, seeing is believing.”

I shrank back against the wall, wishing I could dematerialize at will. “I don’t think I want to be part of your demonstration.”

“Just remember, I did try to reason with you, Vicious.”

Then we were flying again, cold stealing the air from my lungs.

54

EVANGELINE

Malachi landed us in a dark, cramped hole, barely bigger than a broom closet, where the dust was thicker than my hatred for this bastard and we were smashed so tight together I could barely breathe, which was probably a good thing since the air was choking.

“You are a fucking monster.”

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