She reached a crossroads, and a conclusion.
He wasn’t coming after her.
He probably hadn’t even noticed she was gone, was probably too swept up in the beautiful Iolanthe to give two shits about average Mackenzie.
“Men suck,” she grumbled.
She amended that when she thought about what he had said, when it cut her to the bone all over again and made her feel as if he thought she was a bit of a joke or that she was only playing at being an assassin.
But she would never really be one because she didn’t have a dick.
“Men suck balls.”
She scanned the streets, hoping to recognise where she was so she could get to the nearest portal as quickly as possible and get her sorry ass back to Hell. She needed to talk to Syn, even though her friend would probably congratulate her for getting laid at last and then chastise her for letting her feelings get involved, and then need to be talked out of murdering Hartt.
Or maybe Mackenzie would skip talking her out of it and let her loose on the elf.
She highly doubted an elf was strong enough to defeat a demon of the Devil’s domain.
“Why did you leave?” That bass voice rolled over her, sent a shiver tripping down her spine and stopped her in her tracks.
She denied the warmth that tried to curl through her, the stupid giddiness that accompanied it as the ridiculous part of her joyfully cried that he had chosen her. Just because he had come after her, it didn’t mean he had picked her over the elf. She doubted he could pick her over Iolanthe, not after the way she had seen him look at her, or the fact he clearly still had feelings for the elf despite the fact she was with the jaguar.
Mackenzie kept her back to him, refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her outstanding and most beautiful face. Or maybe she just wanted to hide the stupid tears from him. Although, the distance between her and the nearest streetlight and the abysmal weather might do that for her.
“Mackenzie?” He moved a step closer.
She plucked up her courage and lined up the words—an accusation about him and his feelings for Iolanthe—and failed dismally.
“Females are a liability, huh?” Not quite what she had wanted to say, but something that had hurt her almost as much as his blatant love of the elf.
“What?” Confusion rang in his voice as he took another step closer. He came to an abrupt halt. “Ah… No, Mackenzie. I didn’t mean it like that. Fuery… A long time ago, before I met him, Fuery lost himself to the darkness during a battle against one of our princes. Prince Vail had been twisted by magic and turned on his own legion. Fuery was a commander in it and he admired Prince Vail, loved him like a brother and looked up to him like a father. He was understandably devastated when he was forced to fight him. The darkness seized control of him and he became what we call tainted. It corrupted his memories as well as his mind and his body, and for millennia he believed he had killed his ki’ara.”
“Ki’ara?” That word slipped from her lips as she frowned over her shoulder at Hartt.
He raked his long fingers through his wet blue-black hair, pushing it back from his face, tousling it in a way that made him too handsome. She looked away from him again, refusing to crumble, to let him sway her from her path. She was leaving and she would never see him again. This was just a delay in her departure.
And it was only because she wanted some answers.
As soon as she had them, she was gone.
“The elven term for a fated female.” His explanation sparked a thought, one she despised.
Was Iolanthe his ki’ara?
Chapter 17
Mackenzie’s ears rang as she considered the possibility that Iolanthe might be Hartt’s fated mate, that this pull he felt towards her might be born of that biological connection to her. If it was, then he would always love her, would always choose her over anyone else. He was a lost cause.
“Fuery was mistaken though. His female, Shaia, wasn’t dead. He never killed her,” Hartt said. “They have been reunited and now Fuery is on the path to recovery, but there are times when the darkness muddles his memories and he cannot bear to be around females. At those times he is dangerous and easily turns on others.”
Mackenzie looked at her boots. She understood what he had meant now, and she felt terrible for presuming he believed all of her gender were weak, but it didn’t alleviate her hurt. It didn’t stop the pain that constantly beat in her heart or the rage that burned up her blood.
“I do not think you are weak, Mackenzie,” he murmured and moved another step closer.
Mackenzie turned towards him and took a sharp step backwards, away from him. She fixed him with a hard look. “I suppose it would be hard for you to think a female weak because of her gender when you know ones who are strong.”
He frowned at her, a flicker of confusion in his violet eyes now.
Before he could question her, or her courage could falter, she pushed onwards. “Iolanthe isn’t a weak maiden, is she? I noticed her scars. She’s a fighter.”
“She’s a mercenary who hunts down rare artefacts for clients.”
And was a rare artefact herself, a beautiful object that more than one person wanted to possess. The jaguar had her, and Hartt wanted her. What would he do to take her from that male? What would he give to have her?
Hartt’s eyes slowly narrowed, a glimmer of suspicion forming in them as he looked at her. “Why did you leave?”
“Because you pissed me off.” She pivoted away from him and frowned at his hand as he seized her arm, holding her in place. It wasn’t wise to try to stop her from doing something she wanted. He should have learned that by now. She focused and her skin heated, the raindrops turning to steam that curled into the cold night air.
Hartt released her and glared at her, and then at his palm.
She hadn’t burned him this time, but gods, he deserved it. He deserved to hurt just as she did.
Fire ignited in her, a need to make him suffer rising within her to steal control, to set her temper ablaze. She turned on him and squared up to him, aware of the heat shimmering around her, how the rain couldn’t get within a few inches of her now without sizzling and evaporating.
“What is she to you?” She slammed her mouth shut as those words left it and violently shook her head. “Actually, I don’t want to know. I don’t care.”
She turned away again.
Hartt was crazy enough to seize her arm again, and this time he didn’t let go. She wanted to grab his hand and throw it off her, wanted to yell at him for touching her when she was overheating, when she would hurt him, scalding his palm or worse. She twisted and brought her arm up, hoping to dislodge him, but he didn’t release her. He tightened his grip, his handsome face pinching as the disgusting scent of burning flesh filled her nostrils.
“Let me go,” she growled and tried to break free of him, desperate to stop him from hurting himself further.
“No,” he bit out and gripped her harder, so hard her bones creaked and ached. “I can’t.”
She stared at him, saw in his eyes that he meant that, and wished it changed everything. Only it didn’t. He might have feelings for her, but he had feelings for Iolanthe too, and she couldn’t be with him knowing he didn’t want only her. It would kill her.