Page 63 of Court of Evil

She nods, wrapping her arms around herself, so I take my jacket off and hand it to her. She slips it on, and it drags on the floor, but it will keep her covered. I gently slide my hands under Writ’s unmoving body and lift him, propping his head on my shoulder.

He watches me sadly. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” I tell him. “But you saved her.”

He nods, looking at his sister, who is staring at me in confusion. “Come on.” I head to the door then hesitate. “There are men upstairs, but they will not hurt you,” I promise her, but she looks scared. “They are with me. Trust them.” I juggle Writ slightly as I reach down and grab a knife. “Here, to help you feel safe. If you get scared, drive it into them, okay?”

She nods, clutching the blade to her chest, and I head up the stairs. When I reach the top, I whistle to get their attention. “I want every single one of you in the living room with your backs to the wall. Do not move or speak. I mean it,” I order and wait as I hear footsteps. When I think it’s done, I step out. They are positioned like I asked, though the fae looks annoyed at my command.

I feel Fang step out behind me, hiding behind me, and hear her breath stutter when she sees them, but she’s braver than I gave her credit for. She doesn’t run or hide; she steps out at my side, glancing around. “Is he here?”

“No,” I answer for them. “Let’s get you and Writ out of here, and I will come back and deal with him?—”

“No, you won’t,” she snaps, turning her fierce gaze to me. Her skin seems to glow and her hair uncurls, becoming bright and healthy, flowing down her back. Every inch of her oozes sex appeal as she watches me. “You may leave. I will wait for him. I’m going to make him pay for what he did.” Her eyes drop to Writ for a moment, and I stagger back as intense power hits me.

“If you’re staying, then we are staying too. This revenge is yours.” That is something I understand. “But we will be here to help if you need it.”

She nods and turns away as if she cannot bear to look at her brother. “Fang, may I give Writ to one of my men to hold so I can keep my hands free for weapons?”

She hesitates before nodding, and I glance at Writ. “Him.” He points at the fae, and my eyes widen.

“Erm, let me hand you to Addeus?—”

“Him,” Writ demands, pouting. No doubt he was used to getting his way. He’s a tiny version of the woman at my side.

Swallowing, I head over and stretch his body out. Surprisingly, the fae straightens, looking serious, and bows his head. “It would be an honour, little warrior.” He accepts Writ’s body and carefully cradles him in his arms.

When I’m sure he’s okay, I turn to Fang. She sits down in an armchair facing the door, waiting, playing with the knife in one hand, and my estimation of her goes up.

Whoever this man is, he fucked with the wrong woman.

She might have been scared, starved, and locked down there, but it seems this is the true her—powerful, vengeful, and filled with wrath.

I cannot be too close to her without her power washing over my skin, making my heart race and, worse, heat pass through me.

“Succubus,” Ronan tells me softly. “The boy would have been an incubus.” He eyes Writ sadly, all his fear gone. “This happens far too often to their young. Their powers grow, and it attracts the wrong sort of people.”

Sickness rolls through me, as does understanding, and I glance back at Fang to see her bloodthirsty eyes locked on the front door.

Shit, yeah, the man definitely fucked with the wrong person.

The hours pass slowly, and we do not move. I wander through the house, checking for entrances and exits, finding his personal information on an open letter, and then I keep watch. The entire time, she sits in the chair, running the blade through her hands.

When night is drawing near, I hear an engine and, a moment later, the telltale sound of a car pulling onto the drive. Pulling the curtains, I hide behind the door and wait, sparing Fang alook. She nods. I wind the chain I went back downstairs for around my arm.

The door unlocks and pushes open.

“Fuck, why is it so dark?” he mutters, slamming it shut as he reaches for the light switch. I step out of the shadows behind him as he freezes, and I snap the collar around his neck before unwinding the chain as I walk past, yanking him after me. He stumbles and struggles, but it’s too late. I drag him closer as he shouts in confusion, then I push him down to the sofa opposite Fang. I step behind him, keeping him in place with the chain, refusing to touch a hair on his head. I don’t want to see what this monster has done.

I have a feeling it is something I could never unsee.

“What the fuck?” He freezes as Fang stands and heads his way, knife in hand. “How did you get out?”

“That’s your worry?” she purrs, her voice silken once more. He shudders, and I see his pants tent, making me snarl as he gasps for breath.

“You took her and the boy, didn’t you?” I ask him.

When he doesn’t answer, I tighten the chain, waiting as his face turns purple and he slaps at the collar. I release it, and he sucks in desperate gulps of air, glancing up at me with terrified eyes. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this normal-looking man. He would blend in with a crowd. He’s middle-aged, not fat or thin, with short blond hair and brown eyes.

---