Page 55 of Our Sins in Silver (Coven of Sin 3)

He didn’t cower, though.

He didn’t bow or scrape or even twitch.

Instead, he pulled me away from the gate and took my place, planting himself protectively between me and the devil at the gate.

Guilt stabbed at me with every breath I took. This was all my fault. I’d gotten us into this situation. I’d been so desperate to play with magic I didn’t understand and see a part of Sterling I hadn’t before… This could have all been avoided if I’d just asked for Sterling to give me his mark the good old-fashioned way as I’d done with the other guys.

Why did I have to play around in his mind and mess with shit I barely understood?

I tried to sidestep him and place myself in front of him. After all, it was he who needed to be protected from my dad. Sterling held me back, an unyielding shield who refused to buckle or bend for the mate at his back or for the master before him.

Lifting his chin, my prince held his head high. His fists clenched at his sides, and the corded muscles in his back went rigid as he crouched in a hostile stance, like a predator ready to pounce.

Then he addressed the devil at the gate in a hellish baritone, thick and ancient. I didn’t understand the language, but I felt comfortable pegging it as Latin. With a relationship as old as the one he had with my dad, it made sense that they’d communicate in an old language.

Peering past Sterling and through the abbey’s wrought-iron gate, my gaze landed on the lion. My hand flew to my mouth as I watched a man step from the lion’s body, shedding its skin to reveal a naked and blood-slathered body…one that wasn’t my father’s. It was Dagon’s.

Even in Sterling’s mind, my father had appeared as his other biological bastard. Probably to emphasize the fact that he now had the power of necromancy at his fingertips. Like we needed the reminder.

Dagon’s attention snapped in my direction, seizing my gaze with a leering grin that was about as friendly as a rabid demon with a chip on its shoulder.

His eyes dropped, his nostrils flared, and his lips peeled back when he took in the remnants of Sterling trickling down my thighs. “Maledico ei qui te exhonorat.”

“W–what’s he saying?”

“It’s from the Bible,” Sterling said in a threadbare whisper. “Though he’s taking it out of context, as he always does.”

“But what is he saying?”

My prince peeked over his shoulder, leveling me with worry-banked eyes. “Him who dishonors you, I will curse.”

The wave of nausea sweeping through me was replaced a moment later with jagged anger. Like Thomas Knight gave two fiddler-fucks about me and my honor. If I wasn’t so horrified right now, I’d laugh.

The vampire king veered his attention to his progeny, addressing him in that same archaic tongue I couldn’t decipher. Whatever he’d said...it had Sterling bristling.

“Vade diabolo,” my priest spat. Then he hauled me into his arms, turned heel, and ran. I wasn’t sure where. Until the spell broke, we were trapped.

“W–we’re not going to outrun him!”

Sterling held me all the tighter as he sprinted through the abbey grounds as fast as he could. The wind roared in my ear while my mate’s hard chest knocked against mine. I was sure there was no vampire—living or dead—who could match Sterling’s speed, but could you really outrun a guy that had control over every aspect of your surroundings?

My father could have already caught us if he wanted. Still, he chased us. He probably viewed this as a hunt. He was toying with us. I pinched my eyes shut and focused on steadying my rioting heart when taunting laughter exploded around us.

“How I’ve missed this, my silver spoon.” As the vampire king spoke, his voice surrounded us, overlaying the taunting echo of his eerie laughter. “Most of all, I’ve missed our hunts like this. Nothing has ever gotten my blood roaring like watching you run from me…knowing the fight you always put up in the end.”

He stepped in front of us, out of thin. Freaking. Air.

Had any of my other guys been carrying me, we’d probably have gone barreling into the king. But Sterling’s reflexes outmatched his master’s timing. Taking a hard turn, the memory of the abbey rippled and tore like a portal in a painting opening up, and Sterling flung us inside. His arms held me tight against him, taking the brunt of the damage as we hit the ground, rolling.

Landing in a crouch over me, he checked me for bruises or scrapes—as if they were just as worthy of his attention as real wounds—then jerked his head up to the memory behind us, fusing it shut.

My heart slammed into the roof of my mouth, seeing the king stride casually toward the closing portal. He came upon it just as it became too small for him to wriggle through. He probably could have forced his way through, but the arrogant asshole hunched down, facing the shrinking hole.

A murderous smile played across his lips.

“Go ahead. Run, silver spoon. Run as hard as you ever have before. When I catch you, I’m going to make you wish you’d never laid a finger on her.”

For a breath, the illusion of his face flickered, and beneath Dagon’s features was my father’s decayed face. Gaunt cheeks. Rotting fangs of yellow. While the rest of him was dead his eyes were very much alive. They leaped with hellfire, burning into my flesh like the devil’s mark.

---