I practically vaulted across the bed to take my place at Ambrose’s side, already knowing exactly what I was about to see.
Chapter 29. Caitlyn
One minute I was having the quickest, most intense orgasm of my life, the next, the room was plunged into darkness.
Confusion was the only thing that lodged my protest in my throat as Blaise pulled his fingers from me, leaving me abandoned in the middle of the bed, still writhing in a post-orgasm haze.
I had just about managed to steady my breathing when I heard Ambrose, his voice low and unapologetic with rage, say, “Take Caitlyn downstairs,” before I was scooped off the bed and left bobbing unceremoniously against Blaise’s chest.
The moment he burst through the bedroom door, the darkness faded. And it wasn’t until we were already halfway down the stairs—at which point I saw, disbelievingly, the door to Creep’s attic swing open and a winged Ambrose disappear into it—that I realized Blaise was in his shadow form.
Dangerously sharp horns pierced through the crown of his head, coiling backward, glinting in the candlelight. A smaller row of horn-nubs, each increasing in size, ran in a V-shape from the center of his brows into his hairline, meeting his horns.
The fingers pressing me to his body were tipped with long, obsidian talons, which I could only pray to Hecate wouldn’t accidentally pierce my flesh as he jostled me off the final step and rushed into the living room.
“Blaise, what in the seven realms of hell—”
“They’re here,” he said, depositing me on the couch before rushing to the window and glaring out at the field beyond. “They’re here, and we don’t have a plan!”
A moment later, Ambrose appeared in the doorway, and yep—those were wings I’d glimpsed earlier. They dominated the door frame, blacking out the hallway beyond. They weremonstrous. And beautiful. Their feathers—if you could call them that—somehow looked irresistibly smooth, but razor-sharp, like shards of obsidian rather than anything that could be considered bird-like.
Standing at his feet was Creep, her face still fixed in that cherubic smile that did absolutely nothing to disguise the glint of murderous rage in her eyes.
“Wait,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “Who’sthey? I thought it was just Isadora?” I asked Blaise, before turning to Ambrose. “And I thought you overheard her say it would take at least a week?”
“Plan! We need a plan!” Blaise said, bracing himself on either side of the window as if sheer force of will alone might drive the intruders back.
Ambrose moved to the end of the couch, his wings flexing, each feather glinting in the candlelight like a promise of death by a thousand cuts to whoever was approaching.
The shadows in the room practically quivered with rage as he said, “Blaise, you stay here and protect Caitlyn. I’m going to—”
“Everyone just calm the fuck down, stop ignoring me, and stop treating me like I can’t protect myself, okay?” I said—or, more accurately, shouted.
Both of my mates turned to face me, and Creep jutted her chin upward in a mildly admirable show of solidarity.
“Caitlyn, I—” Blaise started.
“Who is approaching the house?” I demanded.
“Isadora and Priscilla.”
Priscilla-fucking-Raisin.
Ugh.I almost wished I had time to film this entire shit-show as proof for the next person who tried to convince me that Priscilla wasn’t the fucking worst.
“Okay. We have to assume that what Jake said about Isadora’s abilities and the conch—”
“Jake?” Blaise interrupted, but quickly quieted when Ambrose shot him alaterlook.
“—is correct,” I continued. “And that she’s not going to be able to compel any of us for very long. Creep, you need to do everything in your power to keep Isadora from getting that magic seashell anywhere near you, okay?”
Creep snapped me a military salute.
Blaise, seemingly unable to contain himself, said, “How exactly do we intend to survive a siren song? She’d only have to say ‘Ambrose, kill Blaise’ within earshot and then...”
He drew his finger across his throat.
He was right. Even if her song wasn’t that strong, she’d managed to keep Ambrose compelled for over a week. And if she got to either Ambrose or Blaise and told one of them to kill the other—
