“So, your affinity isn’t just mind reading,” he hisses. “Baphomet’s Prince will be pleased when I finally steal it from you.”
“You can try,” I say with a glare. “Again.”
He sends me to the floor with his affinity, locking my legs. I fall to my front, hiding his scribe beneath my body. He charges toward me, scalpel raised, but it’s his affinity he uses. He wrestles my left arm behind my back, the movements jerky. He pins me and grabs my wrist.
He can’t afford to kill me, I realize. He needs me alive.
Yet I won’t flinch if I have to kill him. I know it in my heart of hearts. While I want him to be properly punished, to live through the torment he so badly deserves, I’ll dowhatever it takes to put an end to his horrible experiments, even if that means ending his life.
I shoot my magic into his mind, and he drops my wrist, grabbing at his head. He wavers and rolls off me, falling to the floor and spasming.
I lurch to my feet as his magic fades from my limbs.
I attack him again and again with my affinity until he can’t move any longer.
Looming over him, I point the scribe straight at his heart and issue a command of my own, the same thing he told me at the Lunar Ball.
“Stay down.”
He fights against the command, a look of pure shock on his face. “What witch magic is this?”
“This is the affinity you could not steal.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I’ve just finished binding my father’s wrists when my pack rushes into the operating theater. I’m hit with their scents immediately: cedar and bergamot, towering pines and winter winds, sunshine and salty sea air, red wine and juicy cherries. I let their scents wrap around me, and the relief coursing through our bonds washes over me.
They’re battered and bruised, covered in hex marks, but saints, they’re alive, and I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than my men.
I run into Luca’s arms, hugging him gingerly.
“Princess, you’re bleeding!” he exclaims, his hand on my bare back.
“And you got hexed!” I argue.
“I’m okay,” he promises. Still, he sets his booted foot on my father’s chest and pushes, knocking my father to the ground. “Dickbag,” he mutters.
My father curses at Luca, spittle flying from his mouth.
“Cease,” I command.
My father’s curses cut off immediately.
“You’ve improved so much in your command, mydarling,” Ian says, taking me into his arms when Luca offers me to him. “Let me heal your back.” I turn when he gestures for me to and feel a rush of cold air over the sticky, drying blood on my back. The incision isn’t deep, and Ian casts a few healing spells over it. I feel the flesh knit back together, which sends a shiver down my spine, but I know the wound will still scar. Ian draws me into his arms once more, and presses a kiss to my forehead, to each of my cheeks, to the tip of my nose and to my lips. “I’m so glad you’re safe. We’ll get you cleaned up when we get you home.”
Simon swears at my father’s dictaphone before just pocketing the whole thing as evidence. He plugs a USB drive into the computer and quickly transfers files off my father’s laptop, his brow wrinkling as he clicks on an MRI scan. The moment I’m passed into his arms from Ian, I stand up on my tiptoes and kiss the little furrow in his brow.
“Kit-kat,” he breathes. “You were so brave.”
Marcus comes up behind me and gently tugs his hoodie on over my ruined shirt, covering my bare back. I turn into his arms, nuzzling my nose into his neck, breathing him in. All the weariness in my body disappears as I scent my mate, as he tilts my chin up and brushes the sweetest kiss over my lips.
“I’ve never been more worried in my life, sweet-tart. We felt our bonds with you go dark.”
“My father sedated me. That must have been what you felt. And he locked my magic again.”
“You undid your own lock?” Ian asks, pride shining in his blue eyes.
“It was only ten sigils,” I say, basking in his praise.
