Xander let out a growl, unable to stop the sound as he stepped forward. Without dropping the eye contact he lifted his Glock 17 and put a bullet through the side of the man’s head. The Fae fell backwards off the knife, hitting the floor with an audible crack.
Kyra made no sound, her hands still wrapped tight around the cutlery. He didn’t care, needing to touch her, to reassure himself she was there, alive. His fingertips brushed her cheek, as light as a feather as he waited for her to react, to do anything but stare with foreign eyes. She hadn’t even flinched at the gunshot despite the silencer. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
“You’re okay?” she asked on a rushed exhale, her arm shaking as the knife wavered. “I thought…” Her voice broke as she blinked several times, the tears that escaped tinged with black.
“I should be asking you that.” Xander carefully removed the knife from her iron grip, gently settling it on the floor before he reached up to brush away her tears. She was alive, and he needed to get her the fuck out of the shithole farmhouse in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.
“You’re okay?” she asked again as if she wasn’t the one who had been taken by a homicidal Daemon, being forced to do fuck knows what for the last forty-eight hours.
“Kyra…” His words were interrupted when she launched herself forward, arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him down to her lips. There was no hesitation, no gentle teasing as he opened for her, devouring her in such a way it was a brand. He wasn’t sure when his hands reached down to her hips, or how he lifted her until her legs wrapped around his waist and her back was pressed against the broken tiled wall.
The scent of death and decay was thick in the air, and he didn’t care as she melted beneath his touch, her little moans shooting straight down his cock. He kissed her hard, a punishment for going with the enemy, for leaving him. He knew it wasn’t her fault, and yet he wanted her to feel exactly how angry he was that she dared put herself in danger.
Xander reluctantly pulled back. “Don’t look at me like that,” he growled when she dropped her gaze back to his lips, her own swollen. “Trust me, in any other situation I would already be buried deep inside you.” A sharp inhale, her eyes widening at his blunt words. She licked at her lips, and Xander had to suppress a moan. “We need to go.”
It was not the time, or the place.
She nodded, her blush deepening, giving her back a little colour as he slowly dropped her to her feet. “Kace? How is…”
“Fine, we’re both fine,” he interrupted, annoyed at the jealousy that knotted his stomach.
Why the fuck was he jealous?
“We’re not so easily killed.” Actually a lie, they had almost lost Kace, and for that alone he would be forever in her debt.
“I don’t… I don’t know how,” she stuttered, her hand absently brushing against the metal choker around her throat.
Anger kissed his bloodstream, but he kept himself calm as he replaced her hands with his own. There was a crack at the front, blood smeared by thumbs if he went by the prints left behind.
“What happened?” he asked quietly, ideas racing of what he will do to every single person who put their hands on her. His beast grinned inside his mind, just as bloodthirsty.
Kyra sucked in a breath, looking up through thick lashes.
Guess he couldn’t hide his anger after all.
“It strangles my chi,” she said. “Dirk can feel my magic through it.”
Which explained why she had used a bread knife against the Fae. It also meant he needed to remove it, and fast.
“Tell me if this hurts, okay?” He added a little pressure to the crack, feeling the metal strain beneath the force. Kyra let out a strangled cry and he stopped. “Kyra?”
Her dark eyes glittered. “Just do it.”
Xander added more pressure, a little at a time as he watched for her reaction. He knew they needed to leave as they weren’t sure how many men walked the halls of the farmhouse, or the attached warehouse. Sythe had taken out five men around the perimeter, and Xander had removed two Fae inside, not including Kyra’s. It was more men than they had expected, and that worried him.
The Daemons had only been free on Earth Side for just over a year, when the veil that separated the realms fractured. It was repaired quickly, but in that time the gate that kept them within the prison of The Nether had opened. It had tethered their magical chains, giving them freedom from what was essentially Hell.
The Order had received reports from other sectors that the Daemons had split themselves across the world, but the ones that had settled in London were becoming an increasing pain in their arses. The city had one of the largest Breed populations in the northern hemisphere, and they were making their presence known by brute force.
They were planning something, but they had no idea what.
The crack deepened, the metal bending dangerously close to her skin. It had weakened, so when Xander pulled at the sides the choker split. He immediately discarded it, tossing it in the corner before he handed her his pistol.
“Don’t shoot me,” he joked.
She held it awkwardly. “I’ve never used one of these before.”
Xander repositioned her right hand, moving her finger. “Point and click.”
