Chapter 12
Darci’stelepathic message reverberated in his head.Nothing happened?
The bastard had abducted her, touched her—fucking put his mouth on her. Blaéz bolted down his fury and sagged against the wall, hanging onto the broken chains as if he was still under the fucker’s control.
“Don’t,” Nora’s inaudible warning drifted to Blaéz as Darci tried to pull free of her hold. “You could get hurt again or distract your mate. He still has the other shackle to break.”
Then he shut down their mental pathways. He didn’t want Darci to feel the deadly rage storming through him—one that demanded death. He focused his mind, searching for the weakened link he’d found earlier in the spelled manacles and slowed the moment he hit the tiny spot that didn’t grate his psyche like a metal brush.
Blaéz let his deadly power free, willing the cuff to splinter. But the fucking thing still held tight. Teeth gritted, he pushed harder. The muscles on his neck straining like cables about to snap, he tugged at the cuff with his other hand. Pain took on an excruciating burn as the metal rubbed against his open wound. Blood dripped down his clenched fingers, adding more to the small pool on the cemented surface.
The air shimmered, and Finnén took form near the stairs.
He didn’t even glance at Blaéz, too self-assured of his own importance and power. Fucking asshole! He strolled closer to Darci. “Really?” He cast her a disdainful look and flicked a dismissive glance toward Nora as if she represented the worst of her genus. “Never gave you credit to summon ademonto aid you. I suppose she got you back on your feet, too?”
The demoness narrowed her eyes, her arm tightening around Darci. However, she remained silent.
With another hard push of his power, Blaéz wrenched at the metal, and the cuff snapped into two, the pieces clattering to the filthy floor.
Finnén spun around, his sneer morphing to a look of confusion.
A roar erupting, Blaéz flashed and smashed his fist into his brother’s jaw—the agony in his torn wrists scarcely penetrating, adrenaline fueling him. “You should have never come after my mate—ever!”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make you suffer,” Finnén snarled, diving for Blaéz, and they both went crashing to the floor. He flipped on top and rammed his fist into Finnén’s face again. Bones crunched as his twin bellowed in anger, blood gushing from his busted nose.
“Guess he doesn’t require our help,” a familiar voice said. Aethan.
“Nope.” Týr.
Ignoring the warriors who stood near the foot of the stairs, he punched Finnén again and again as eons of suppressed rage starting from his boyhood broke free—being used as a punching bag because he was a servant. For the thefts he had no knowledge of and had been thrown into the dungeon. Receiving approval for a job well done from The Morrigan as her squire, only to end up with Finnén and his cohorts coming after him and leaving him broken and bleeding—
Finnén shoved his hand between them. A sudden bolt of power hit Blaéz in the chest with the force of a sledgehammer, and he flew back hard into the opposite wall with a loud thud. Cement cracked, and bits of mortar fell along with him to the floor. Struggling to pull air into his bruised lungs, Blaéz stumbled a few feet, trying to regain his balance.
Fuck. He shook his dizzy head. He should just end this now, kill him. But it wouldn’t lessen his burning need for retribution. This bastard had abducted his mate!
“Iwant to kill this shithead for leading us on a fucking wild chase,” Týr muttered in annoyance. “Shielding this damn place from us… Celt, quit playing with the dumbdick. Finish him already…”
Teeth gritted, Blaéz leaped for Finnén. A psychic push ripped through Blaéz, and he fell back on his ass on the gore-covered ground.
“…or not.” Týr cocked an eyebrow at him, pulled out a pack of M&M’s, and settled against the wooden rail of the stairs like he was watching a fucking Marvel movie. Asshole.
“I’m going to take the utmost pleasure in killing you,” Finnén jeered through his busted mouth, chest heaving as he lurched up. “Too long have you been a stain on my life—”
“You never could let it go,” Blaéz spat, breathing hard through battered lungs. Roiling pain a familiar, old friend he welcomed. He pushed to his feet and swiped the blood trailing down his mouth with the back of his hand. “The heavens know I never wanted to be aligned withyouin any way, but Iamher fucking son, too. Deal with it!”
“Oh, I plan to!” Finnén countered. In a swirl of mist—the lethal, ebony-edged Mating Sword that could kill an immortal—appeared in his hand. “It’s time to end this.”
The darkness that ate at him since his mate’s capture, spread through Blaéz in a deadly black wave. Indeed, there was no coming back from this.
* * *
No!Darci shoved Nora away, but her friend hauled her back, her grip like a vise. “Stop, Dars. This sibling conflict isn’t yours, it’s theirs.”
Sibling conflict?The gods certainly took it to another level. But she didn’t give a damn. All that mattered was Blaéz.
Christ! He was hurting on so many levels, from a mother who’d given him away and changed his life to one of unimaginable horror, to a brother who hated him for existing, and a father who didn’t care.
Finnén lunged, the weapon arching toward Blaéz, who didn’t even evade, yanking Darci’s heart to her throat. Seconds before it plunged through him, Blaéz leaped back, the sword slicing him across his chest instead. He grabbed the lethal blade from his brother and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying back.
