Page 25 of Reign of the Beast

That ache deep in my gut that I’d had since she’d been forced away from me finally eased off.

I jolted out of my thoughts as vamps and wolves of the enemy hit the wall over and over with their full strength.

None of them could even make a dent.

Then the magic-wielders went at it, coming hard and fast.

She called out to them, “Turn back around! You will not breach this barrier,amateurs.”

That was the woman I remembered. The woman I’d never been able to forget.

The enemy stepped up its game, tens of them trying to tear at the wall, all the magic wielders striking all at once.

I watched Mia’s eyes narrow. They were pissing her off.

She pulled her right hand away, holding the wall with only one.

Blue electricity circled her right hand. But then it snuffed out. I heard her cursing and grunting, as she shook out her fingers, fighting to get it back.

Shit.

Ryker’s report about her being afraid of her own power rang in my head. Was this the fallout? Fuck, if it was, we were all in deep shit.

Relief sung through me when I saw that electricity spark to life again.

She thrust her palm forward.

A bolt of lightning shot through the wall and exploded on the other side, tons of smaller bolts scattering all over the enemy.

As it hit, it destroyed them instantly. They just evaporated like they’d never been there.

Jesus Christ.

Her first hit took out a good fifty.

She didn’t let up, striking again and again.

Just as she was about to strike for the fourth time, what was left of the crowd parted suddenly.

She jerked her right hand back, her eyes wide with fear. I heard her pulse spiking.

“Mia?” I called.

“Draco,” she gasped.

I followed her gaze to see the thing she was so scared of striding through the gap in the crowd.

A giant son of a bitch holding an ancient-looking sword dripping with blood.

A cloak blew behind him, hanging off his shoulders by a chain. He was shirtless, but his chest was covered with tats. Words, it looked like. His worn brown pants that seemed made out of some kind of animal skin creaked as he stomped toward us with his hefty boots squelching in the mud.

He rubbed his shaved head, glaring at Mia for a second, until he jerked his head at me, staring in a strange and very unsettling way.

He sheathed his sword and stopped in front of the wall.

He pressed his hand to it and I was shocked when he didn’t go flying back like the others.

He thrust his fist into it. Mia cried out and the wall shuddered.

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