Page 64 of Bound to Four Alphas

Elian laughed, low and cruel. “Surely you don’t think I’m that stupid.”

Phaendar smiled. “It remains to be seen.”

Elian bolted forward, propelled by his magic, covering Selena in a protective layer of shadows before Phaendar’s knife could plunge down into her.

But the knife never came.

Ronan’s eyes widened.

Phaendar turned away from the altar, darting towards Damien.

Towards the crown that lay by his feet.

Ronan watched in horror as he placed it upon his head, hissing as the metal made contact with his skin, fusing with it.

“I’ve never actually tried this myself,” Phaendar said, his voice unnaturally still, his face contorted in pain. “Let’s see what power the old Forest God’s crown can command.”

Elian was the first to attack, sending wave after wave of blinding power towards his father.

Phaendar merely smirked, grasping the tendrils of magic in bone-white hands. Elian’s eyes widened in fear, and then he was on his knees, roaring in agony. His own magic was turned on him, trapping him.

Ronan prepared to strike, but Phaendar looked up and blinked, a silent wave of magic pulsating out.

And from every single decrepit entrance, window, and crack, fetid nightmares began to roll in.

Ronan leapt towards the altar before they could reach Selena, joining Kaelen and Malek as they fought the first wave.

But there were so many.

The walls of the old temple were crumbling under the claws and teeth of the nightmares spilling in, crushing under their weight. Soldiers followed, their spears wickedly sharp, their faces blank and emotionless.

All under the control of the crown.

Ronan tore his way through one of the remaining walls, reducing it to rubble, several nightmares screeching andcrawling up his back. He turned and wrenched them off with his teeth, but there were so many. Too many.

“Why ally yourself with the humans,” Elian screamed, fighting with every last bit of energy he had, lashing against his constraints. “You had power enough! We have power enough!”

“You’ve always been insolent,” Phaendar snarled. “Why would I allow myself to wither and age, dying in the light of my pathetic son, when I can take all his power for myself?”

Elian roared, twisting and writhing, and Ronan bellowed. He tried to get closer, tried to help, but there were just too many damned shadows. He glanced over. Kaelen had taken to the skies, torching the city of tents around them, burning the human soldiers before they could get close. But they had coordinated, running to huge wooden machines, aiming them toward the sky and sending bolts of metal streaking towards him. They skimmed his sides, his wings, and he had to turn and thrash in the sky to avoid them.

Malek wasn’t faring much better. He was at the epicenter of a seething riot of nightmare creatures, ripping them apart with his teeth, black eyes completely lost to the beast within as he destroyed monster after monster.

But they just kept coming.

Ronan sprung free. Elian. He just had to get to Elian. Once the Fae was free his shadows could control the nightmares, defeat his father.

Phaendar glanced at him. It was all it took for the nightmares to release Malek and descend on him like an unholy plague of night. They blotted out the very sky as they surrounded him, claws ripping and teeth biting.

But Malek was free to slip through.

He heard Phaendar’s roar of anger as Malek slammed into him, scented the bloodlust from his packmate. There was a heavy thud and a cry of agony as Malek wrenched the crown from the Fae’s head, ripping it from his skin and dropping it to the floor.

Elian was released.

There was a pulse, a ripple of magic.

A breath.

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