Page 13 of Heart's Flame

More movement around them drew Vian’s eyes. Mages. He didn’t have to look to know they were surrounded.

“Stay behind me,” he said to Marcellus, drawing his sword. He heard Marcellus do the same as the other man’s back pressed to his. Unafraid to reveal the full fury of his power now, Vian reached into the earth beneath their feet, drawing the strength he’d need. The ground started to shake.

“Not so fast my son,” Araminta nodded, and Coren screamed.

Whipping his head around, Vian caught a glint off the sword being yanked back out of Coren’s chest. “No,” Vian yelled, conjuring a pulse through the ground beneath his feet and sending the mages surrounding them flying through the air. His mother shielded herself and the Null and witch with her. He ran to Coren’s side. His friend was lying on the ground with a dark ominous pool spreading beneath him. Marcellus took up a fighting stance in front of them, sword out and ready to take on anyone that approached.

“V-ian, I’m sorry,” Coren struggled to say. He blinked and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “Please don’t tell Laiken what I did.”

Oh gods, Laiken. Vian’s heart broke at the thought of Coren’s young mate. “I won’t be passing on any messages, Coren, because you’re not going to die.”

A low sigh slipped out of Coren’s mouth. He grabbed for the hand Vian had pressed over the wound in his chest.

Anguish tore at Vian’s insides. He looked at his mother. She was standing between the other two women, all of them calm and composed with their hands folded in front of them. Vian glanced down at his own hands. They were covered in blood. “What do you want?” he asked his mother.

She cocked her head. “I want my best hunter back.”

“Vian,” Marcellus whispered, looking back at him.

He licked his lips. Coren’s breaths were coming slower, and the scent of blood was a coating on the back of his throat. Looking at his mate and seeing all the mages around them standing once again, Vian knew what he needed to do. “Have your witch heal Coren. He, Marcellus, and Laiken go free,unharmed, and I won’t fight.”

Araminta pursed her lips and sweat broke out over Vian’s body. He wanted to rush her. Coren didn’t have time for her to contemplate. There was no way she hadn’t known what he’d do.

“Done,” she said with a smile.

“I want a blood vow.”

She sniffed, but pulled a dagger-shaped pin from her hair and pricked her finger. Two drops of blood landed on the dirt at her feet. “I give you my vow, Morovian. Coren, Marcellus, and Laiken will leave here unharmed.” The blood she’d spilled turned to vapor and with a quiet rush of wind, flew up into the night. Vian felt the vow settle between them. She slipped the pin back into her hair and nodded to the witch before saying, “Bring the wolf,” to one of the mages standing in a loose circle around them.

The witch moved forward and Vian stood away. Marcellus was staring at him with angry eyes. Vian stepped into his space. “As soon as Coren’s on his feet, grab Laiken and run like hell.”

“Vian, I won’t leave you—”

“You have to.” He stopped to take a breath, eyes raking over Marcellus’s face. Leaning in, he kissed his mate slowly before pulling back to whisper against his lips. “You brought me back once. I’ll remember, Marcellus, I promise.”

“Let me go! Coren!” Laiken yelled and squirmed as a burly mage whose name Vian didn’t know carried him out of the woods.

“I don’t like this.” Marcellus said as they parted. Vian didn’t like it either, but he didn’t see any other way out where they all got to live and sacrificing any of them wasn’t an option.

The mage set Laiken on his feet just as Coren pulled in a huge, gasping breath.

“Coren!” The wolf ran to him, falling to his knees beside his mate as Coren sat up. He wrapped Laiken in his arms and held him close.

“Go,” Vian said to Marcellus. “Go before she thinks of a loophole.”

Marcellus cursed under his breath, but did as Vian asked, gathering up the reuniting mates. Vian watched him, memorizing every line of his body and the exact curves of his face.

“On your knees, my son,” Araminta commanded.

Vian looked once more at his mate and his friends. Coren was on his feet now, one big arm wrapped around Laiken and the other hand gripping Marcellus’s shoulder, pulling him away. “Keep them safe,” Vian called to him. Coren met his eyes with a nod.

Heart heavy, Vian turned around and lowered himself to his knees. The witch stepped in behind him, placing her hands on either side of his head. He closed his eyes, envisioning those golden threads that had flowed from Marcellus into him and held on to them until all the world went black.

8

Marcellus couldn’t stop shaking—countless battles, losing his family, finding out his sister had taken up with the enemy—but seeing Vian on his knees with that witch preparing to steal his memories away again had left him colder than anything he’d endured before.

They’d run—him, Coren, and Laiken—as fast as Coren’s horse cart could carry them, just like Vian asked them to. When they’d arrived back at the outskirts of the capital, they’d traded the cart for fresh horses and taken off again while every fiber of his body screamed for him to stop, to go back.

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