Page 119 of Vengeful Mates
“One last thing.” The knot of anger at Colton stretched inside my chest. “That prick is gonna sense my application of Underworld magick. Be ready. He might appear.”
The two of them nodded, rage, decimation, and revenge blistering the bond. My pulse pounded with worry for Aaliyah and the babies. If they were alive. I couldn’t sense her soul, which gave me fleeting hope. There was the chance that Colton used his new gift and left me blind. The chance we walked into another trap.
Taking that risk, I fired up my Underworld gift, my anguish tearing me up. I pierced a hole in space, connecting to Faline’s office. The three of us rushed through, Slade taking out her bodyguard manning the door, knocking him out and lowering him to the floor with a soft thud. Castor and I cornered her at her expensive desk. No way out unless she had a secret trap door to a panic room.
Surprised by our entry, her eyes narrowed, and she purred into her phone, “I’ll call you back.” Her phone beeped as she disconnected and set it on her expensive desk.
Always poised. Confident. Elegant. More than ready for a fight, and I had no doubt she had some moves we hadn’t seen before. Faline worked for Bastet, the goddess with the alter ego, Sekhmet, who raged with an unquenchable bloodlust when threatened with war.
Faline lit up an expensive cigarette, her ruby-red nails flashing in the dim light like sirens. “Thought I might see you again. No luck finding Colton?”
Bitch toyed with us like her mate did.
She casually played with her dark hair, long and styled within an inch of perfection. Diamonds on her bracelet caught the light, the glint blinding me as if she enhanced the light with her magick to confuse us and use the distraction to escape.
I killed the lights and left us in darkness. Shifter senses only.
“You could say that, toots.” Slade advanced on her, asserting war.
Swift like a cat, she snarled and was on her feet, surprisingly agile in six-inch heels. The graceful flick of her cigarette hit him between the brows. Flames exploded, burning him and sparking a brief flash of light.
“Aw, fuck.” Slade stamped out the fire with slaps to his forehead.
I lunged for her, not quick enough to avoid the desk smashing into my balls. Bitch was damn fast. Kicked it before I got close. Blinding pain scorched the notch between my legs and the bond.
Castor faltered and hunched with me as my agony torched the bond.
Only Slade remained unaffected. Asshole loved pain and blood.
Agonized, I held onto the side of the desk, infusing dulling death magick into my balls and into the bond.
Slade’s menacing scowl turned into an aroused smile. “Little bit of foreplay before we fight, toots? I enjoy it.”
The woman moved like one of the dead. Faster than the eyes of a human. Shifters and death avatars could only keep up with her. Slade had a hard time meeting her pace. Shorter than him by a few feet, she played dirty, going for all his weak spots. Balls, liver, throat. Sluggish in comparison to her velocity, Slade blocked the moves, taking a few blows to the gut and grunting.
“I’m getting hot from all the action, toots,” he taunted her, not sexually, knowing it would get to her.
“Filthy biker,” she hissed, landing one blow to the groin that made my president stagger.
Clear to run, she slammed her fist on a painting, activating a hidden panel to recede. Damn cat shifters. Always slinking out of trouble. She wouldn’t get out of this. Couldn’t. Saving our family and club depended on it.
Death magick dampened our pain and Castor and I were once more in the ring.
I caught the scruff of her neck and dragged her back while Castor closed off her escape.
“Hands off me, you giant lug!” Her elbow slammed back to wind me.
I grunted but didn’t let her go. Plenty of brawls toughened my stomach for this kind of thing.
Slade recovered, grabbing her arm, twisting it behind her. “You’ll have to try a little harder, toots.” Now he just toyed with her.
This wasn’t a fair fight, three avatars against one. Men ganging up on a woman. Regardless of her adversaries, she didn’t go down easy. Woman put up a hell of a fight. Flexible as a martial arts fighter, her leg arced up at Slade’s face and he leaned back, ducking it. One hell of a feat, considering his seven-foot stature. A punch to Castor’s cheek sent him stumbling into a chair and it toppled over. Another kick shoved me back.
Her nostrils flared and she licked her lips. “I smell blood.”
She hissed at Slade, baring sharp teeth. Claws flexed, she dragged them down his shoulder, tearing open his wound.
“Fuucckk!” Slade shook with enough fury and fire to destroy the world. Now she just pissed him off. They both deserved it for taunting each other.
