“You can’t disappoint me, Mac. I accept you as you are because you chose me. You wouldn’t have chosen me if I wasn’t your ideal mate and you mine. That’s just how fate works.”
Even in the dark I see the glimmer in his dragon eyes as he gazes at me. “You’re a very good soul, Drax.”
I smile, reaching for his hand. “So are you, my lovely mate.”
Up ahead, the sound of creaking wood floors breaks the silence. Scales ripple across Mac’s flesh and he grips my hand tighter.
“Come on,” he whispers.
We creep through the dark towards the stone house, and when we reach it, the door is already cracked open. Mac pushes the old wood door, and it creaks, revealing a tiny room with a fire going in the fireplace. Next to it is a rocking chair with a human sized shape bundled up in it.
“Hello?” Mac says, stepping toward the chair.
The chair continues rocking, ominously slow, and Mac gazes back at me with nervous, very human eyes.
“Excuse me,” Mac tries again. “Are you Belinda Legarr?”
The chair stops rocking and the huddled body stirs. I hurry to the other side, ready to insert myself if needed to protect my mate. Mac reaches out and carefully pulls back the hood covering the person’s face.
He gasps, stepping back slightly, but I stare at the sunken face. I’ve only seen one other human kept alive by pure magic alone, and I personally don’t see the appeal. It’s not like a vampire, who is frozen in time. You continue to age, you simply won’t die.
The woman stares ahead with clouded white eyes, her mouth frozen open. Soft, shallow breaths appear like tiny clouds in front of her lips. She claws at her chest with scrawny fingers, leaving streaks of blood on her flesh. In the center is a large oval patch of skin, unaged and blemish free.
“Mac.”
“Where is your amulet, Belinda?” Mac asks.
She twitches her head in his direction, and I wonder if she can even hear us.
“I think I can help.”
“How?”
“I’m a demon, Mac. We do have some abilities, you know.” I brace myself for what I’m sure is about to be a negative experience.
I kneel before the old, dying witch. My nose twitches as the scent of death spreads through her, taking her centuries-old organs with it. Lifting my hand, I carefully place it over the patch of clear skin on her chest, stopping her from scratching anymore, and I’m accosted by the shrieking screams she’s no longer able to make aloud.
In my mind I see the woman she was ages ago, middle-aged but somewhat pretty, strong and bright-eyed. She’s screaming at me, begging for death to hurry and take her.
Where is your amulet?
Taken! A mage broke the magic. Where is Death? Why make me suffer? Take me, please. Please. Please.
I try to remove my hand, but the witch grips my wrist with surprising strength.
Take me with you, demon. End my torture. Days upon days, nights upon nights, Death ignores my pleas.
I’m not that kind of demon.
Please!
I’m pulled backward into the comforting arms of my mate and the shrieking in my head stops. Shivering, I take a moment to ground myself.
“Are you okay?” Mac asks, searching my eyes. “What happened?”
“Her mind works but her body doesn’t. She’s still alive for some reason but desperately wants to die. She said a mage took the amulet.”
“A mage? How will we find out who that is? Fuck. Auri’s never gonna let me go.”
