“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Vito?” His gaze roamed the distant mansion again.
Fin, almost twenty-one-years-old, waited for the day his ring charged. Magic would pour into his veins like a magma chamber under a once dormant volcano. For now, he must be content with the spurts that appeared with raw emotion. Without command of his feelings, the power would build like a static charge. The magic, untamed and wild, had to be physically transferred to the earth, or he risked releasing a catastrophic accident. If his father lived, he’d have had proper tutelage and might even have better control.
Pain ripped through his heart at the memory when he’d first realized his father would never again return, never pass on his knowledge, and never give his love.
They would pay—every one of the Ninnettes. He’d have full mastery over the emotions and magic soon. On that day, he’d unleash both like a raging tsunami. One of his fingers toyed with the small, golden ring hanging from a chain around his neck.
A soft trill broke the silence. From inside Fin’s robe slid a tiny, reddish-orange dragon. The little creature clambered onto his shoulder, giving his scaled body a shake and flexing delicate wings.
Golden eyes with black, narrow pupils stared at his face.
“Cyan.” Fin’s breathing relaxed. “One day, I’ll get you back home.” He lifted a finger and caressed the animal’s head while the other rolled the necklace between a thumb and index finger.“I just have one teensy problem with the plan. This country doesn’t have royalty, and I need a bloody princess.”
Cyan’s forked tongue scraped Fin’s neck with a lick. The dragon snorted, and two wispy puffs of steam escaped his nostrils.
“Yes. If you were older and larger.” Fin stroked his miniature friend’s muzzle. “You could release hellfire.” The thought of his enemy's flesh burning, their cries of agony and pleading, brought a delightful smile to play upon his lips.
Why hadn’t his father chosen England instead of this horrible place? At least, with his accent and refined tastes, it’d be a better fit. Instead, he was marooned in the United States of America, where people thought fish and chips meant boxed fish sticks and bagged potato crisps.
Cyan curled his armor-plated body around Fin’s neck and closed his eyes.
Hot breath flew across Fin’s chest. Though the pet felt like a miniature furnace next to his flesh, Fin generated his own inner fire and paid it no mind.
Soft snores began to roll from the animal’s nostrils.
The anger rose within Fin once more, and he refocused on his breathing. How he longed to ruin the bright, sunny weather and impending wedding.
A wicked smile formed. “I wonder . . .”
His lids snapped open, and he focused on the mansion once more.
Standing, he dug inside a pocket and pulled out a small, cloth bag. He dipped the tip of a finger inside and held his hand out, palm up. Several tiny, black crystals sparkled in the light. He lifted them to his mouth and blew a puff of air.
The little shards floated through the open window and out of sight.
His low voice whispered words of power in a soft, foreign tongue, the syllables flowing through the air like a soft caress.
He flipped his other palm to face the floor. Long fingers wiggled and he lowered the arm.
Gray, pregnant clouds billowed and rolled across the sky—their sheer enormity blocked the golden sunlight.
Thunder cracked through the quiet and shook the stones of the building.
A gale began to whip the tops of the scorched trees with angry, violent bursts.
Intense pleasure coursed through his limbs. This may be a hybrid of magic and alchemy, but he didn’t care.
“Your daughter’s perfect, cozy wedding day is no more.” Satisfaction shot through him at the sudden maelstrom. “And your day of reckoning is close.”
Splinters of wood shot across the weed-choked yard, and a charred smell reached Fin’s nose. He narrowed his attention on the distant home of his enemy, consumed by old pain.
Chapter 3
Sacha
EachfootsteptoLorenzoLombardi was like the dying beat of Sacha’s heart.
The closer she came to her betrothed, ever larger loomed the beginning of saggy jowls and a receding hairline.
