But closing my eyes would be stupid since an incomplete quintet is already rushing through the trees towards us. One has a sword, one wields the wind, and the shifter is already in bear form as she leaps through the air.
My hand slips into a concealed pocket on my pants. I'm ready to grab the dagger there and end anyone who comes close, but a blinding flare of red magic has my hair standing on end.
The bear drops dead from Silas's spell, blood gushing from where it's been split clean in half at the torso. The wind elemental is also knocked backward, slamming into a tree trunk with a sharp cracking sound.
When the legacy with the sword lunges forward, a wickedly sharp rapier made of ice forms in Everett's hand. He moves with the sly, practiced speed of a fencer, his ice blade piercingthrough the gut of the legacy. Immediately, they're encapsulated in solid ice, just like that cheeky siren at the ball.
It all happens so quickly that it takes me a moment to realize Baelfire is tensed in front of me like a massive shield of muscles, scanning for the next imminent threat with his eyes shifted into the slitted pupils of a dragon. Admittedly, he actually looks pretty terrifying when he's on edge, especially with the faint glow under his skin, like there's fire trapped inside him that wants out.
No wonder they're considered top-ranked legacies. They're not bad at this.
I mean, they're sloppy, but I would be lying if I said the frigid deadliness in Everett's movements didn't do something for me. It also affects me more than it should when Silas lifts up his hand, licking away his own blood with a drag of his tongue, the barest flash of his fangs reminding me that those appear when he loses control.
I wonder what they'd feel like buried in my skin. I bet it would hurt so deliciously.
Pulling myself out of my moment of distraction, I clap slowly. "Brava. Now follow me. The cemetery is this way."
I turn to lead them, but Silas interrupts me.
"First, Baelfire should end that wind elemental. A kill will give him more control."
Baelfire hesitates, glancing at the tree where the wind elemental is collapsed unconscious in a wheezing pile, probably with several broken ribs.
"No. Leave him be," I say immediately when I read the apprehension in the set of Bael's jaw.
Silas gives me a stern look. "If you're worried about sparing Bael's innocence, don't be. He's killed plenty—all of us have. But if he doesn't end a life soon, he's liable to shift out ofcontrol, which putsyouin even more danger. That's not fucking happening."
He tries to turn away like that's the end of this discussion. But I grip the front of his shirt and yank him down to meet my eye again, not bothering to hide my true strength or the anger on my face. It makes his eyes widen fractionally.
"No, what's not fucking happening is making someone take a life that they're not sure about taking. I get it. You're a cutthroat asshole with no qualms about ending a deserving opponent, no matter what condition they're in. We're similar in that way," I parrot his words from last night with an eyebrow raise. "But Baelfire's dark side isn't quite as pitch black as ours. So if he isn't comfortable killing a defenseless enemy, then I get the final say, and I say leave him the fuck alone."
Roughly releasing the front of the startled blood fae's shirt, I start toward the ancient cemetery. I've been there plenty of times in my wanderings through Everbound Forest. It will take us at least twenty minutes to get there, which doesn't leave much time to refuel my magic to perform a search spell for the changeling.
Baelfire catches up to my side. "Damn. You're fucking hot when you're bossy. Do I need to step out of line to get my turn? You know I love being good for you, baby, but I can try being a brat."
Unexpected heat blooms in my neck, and something pools low in my stomach. The thought of punishing any of them sexually makes it really hard to think straight.
Baelfire inhales sharply, and I know he's scenting my arousal. "Fuck," he groans.
"Keep it in your pants," Everett snaps.
Bael grumbles something about frozen blue balls that I don't fully catch because an agonized scream splits the air of the forestnearby. We all go silent and still as we wait for the potential threat to emerge from the dark mist.
All that emerges is a baby manticore, which hisses and scales the nearest tree.
"Disappointing," I sigh.
Silas tips his head. "Is it? Do you enjoy watching our more monstrous sides in a fight,sangfluir?"
Apparently, I do.
But I haven't been in a good fight in ages, and I'm itching to spill blood. Of course, I only want to hurt people who truly deserve it, and I still don't want other legacies to catch on to the fact that I'm stronger than they are.That would draw the attention of the Immortal Quintet before I'm ready to start picking them off.
So, I'll have to temper the darker urges that were ingrained in me.
For now.
Suddenly, another scream sounds much closer, and I sense another wave of death just before a cluster of legacies steps out of the trees. All seven of them are on high alert, with one of them bleeding heavily from their side.
