He yelps as if I stung him, and then he’s falling away from me. I hear him scuttling backwards.
When I open my eyes, I find his mouth red with my blood, some of it coursing down his chin. He catches it with his fingers and then he’s licking them clean. His eyes glow so intensely red it’s as if they are flaming from within, and the color is vibrant on his cheeks. Even his form seems much stronger, more vital than it did only seconds before.
I bring my hand to my neck, clutching it firmly to stem the blood flow, and use my magic to heal the puncture wounds he’s made in my throat.
The professor licks his lips and slides his tongue down his long, deadly fangs. He glares at me like something feral, something possessed, like he wants to consume me.
“F-F-Fox,” I say, raising my other hand, ready to strike if I need to.
If sucking my throat was nearly half as good for him as it was for me, then I may need to stop him from taking more. He may not be able to resist it.
His eyes flash. And for a moment he looks as evil as Madame Bardin. But then he shakes his head, and when he looks at me again, his eyes are that beautiful amber color, and he looks like Fox. My Fox.
“I love you,” he says simply. And then he’s leaping to his feet and shooting cold shadow magic up towards the demons.
And I’m right – he is powerful. The magic streaming from his hands is fierce, the demons blasted away as if they are nothing but annoying insects. And I watch as, one by one, they disappear into the air.
I frown. If he was this powerful, if he was this strong, how did they take him in the first place? It makes no sense. But then I recollect myself, raise my own hand, and send my magic towards the demons as well. And then the three of us – Blaze, Fox, and me – destroy the demons spinning in the sky above us.
I half expect to find my own magic weakened after that feeding. After all, the professor just took a considerable volume of my blood, and I definitely feel a little lightheaded as a consequence. But to the contrary, I find my magic bright and exhilarating, as if the act of offering up my throat to the professor has rejuvenated my powers. Or maybe the jubilationhas come from finding him alive, from being reunited with my fated mate.
The last of the demons disintegrates into ash above us. And then I turn to Fox.
I laugh. “Well, that was easier than I expected. You’re much more powerful than I imagined, Professor.”
He shakes his head, smiling at me, my heart leaping in response.
“No. It’s never been that powerful before. That’s because of you, Briony. The light in your blood.”
We stand there smiling at each other, and it’s nearly as entrancing as when his teeth were buried in my neck. Then I collect myself for the second time. I search the strange space we find ourselves in.
“Where’s Beaufort?” I say.
Chapter Forty
Beaufort
The sword glows in my hand and pulses with a magic that is both foreign and familiar. A magic, I think, that must be ancient.
Beyond the blade, I can see the looming figure of Bardin grinning as I pace towards her. Above me, the demons are circling menacingly, and behind me the dragon shoots fireballs, incinerating them in large numbers.
Beyond the dragon, I know what Briony plans to do, and I can’t watch. Even if I could risk flicking my gaze from Bardin, I wouldn’t want to see what I know is about to happen.
But she’s right. If we hope to leave this place alive, we need the professor and his powers. Bardin is stronger out here in this realm, and perhaps he will be too.
“What do you hope to do, Beaufort Lincoln?” Bardin says, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Kill you,” I say. I’ve run out of patience. This woman has endangered the life of my mate one too many times. It ends here. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care whatmy mother will think or do. And unfortunately, I know from experience, she will do something. She has never taken kindly to dissent. She has always stamped it out, and that includes when it comes from her children. I am no fool. I know I am not her favorite child.
“Come on then, Prince, come kill me.” She beckons me with the crook of her finger. Her eyes glint as she watches the swing of my blade through the gloom.
I creep forward. She holds her ground. Her magic, swimming around her hands, does not come to meet me. She’s humoring me. But she underestimates my power and my resolve.
“I’m immortal, darling,” she says. “You don’t have the same powers as your little thrall, and I am not weak. You must know you can’t kill me.”
“I can,” I growl, “if I remove your head from your shoulders.”
I lunge forward, swiping the blade towards her, but she darts backwards and I miss. The sword hisses as it cuts through the air, and the bitch spins on her toes, cackling as she darts down the tunnel behind her.
