She might like her, but Mackenzie didn’t like the fascinated edge her eyes gained as she turned away from Hartt, coming to face Mackenzie instead.
“What are you?” The witch’s eyes narrowed on hers, a scrutinising look filling them. Before Mackenzie could tell her to back off and make her regret asking that question and looking as if she wanted to dissect her just like a blood mage, Rosalind waved her away and her nose wrinkled. “Forget I asked. Let’s focus on the more important thing here—you have what I need to find this witch.”
“I do?” Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead.
Rosalind nodded eagerly. “You touched him recently, didn’t you?”
Hartt growled, sounding terribly like Vail, a possessive snarl that sent a thrill chasing down Mackenzie’s spine. She glanced at him, lingered when he looked ready to murder someone.
“Not like that,” she bit out, hoping her firm tone would make it clear he was reading into things, completely blowing this out of proportion. “I grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving when I was having a meeting with him.”
And boy was she glad she had now, even though it had made her feel like a desperate fool at the time.
“I should be able to track down his location with the right spells.” Rosalind flicked a nervous glance at her mate. “But it might mean I have to tag along, following the spell like.”
Vail shook his head, strode to her and gathered her into his arms. “No. This female is of Hell. Hartt and Fuery live there. The wretch too. I… I do not think I could… not right now. I cannot go there right now.”
Rosalind wrapped her arms around his waist and settled her head on his chest. “No one is going to make you go to Hell, Vail.”
“But if the witch is there… Little wild rose will leave me.” Vail shoved his hands into his wild blue-black hair as the onyx scales of his armour rippled down his head, leaving it unprotected, and then did something that made Mackenzie believe not just some of the stories about him but all of them.
He pushed away from his mate and dug his claws into his scalp, his face twisting in a grimace that flashed huge fangs as he snarled and growled. He paced away from everyone, roared as he lashed out at an apple tree, cutting deep grooves in the bark with his black talons. Regret washed across his features, his expression growing pained as he turned to the tree, as he pressed his palms to the point he had wounded and closed his eyes. Mackenzie’s widened as the tree healed, the damage he had done to it reversing to leave not even a scar behind.
“Vail,” Rosalind whispered and went to him. She stroked her hand down his spine as he braced himself against the tree and leaned forwards, hanging his head between his arms. “I will not make you go to Hell… and I will not go without you. I’ll never leave you.”
He turned his head towards her and lifted it, his look bleak.
And then he was holding her again, crushing her to his chest and burying his face in her fall of golden hair.
The vampires looked as if they wanted to comment on his erratic behaviour, but wisely held their tongues. Fuery looked worried, and she had the feeling it was for Vail. Hartt just stared at her, and when she looked at him, she could easily read his thoughts.
“I’m going back to Hell if the witch is there,” she said, laying down the law before he could get ideas about trying to make her stay far away from the witch where she would be safe. She squeezed his hand. “I’ll never leave you.”
Rosalind frowned over her shoulder at her. “That was my amazing line, thank you very much.”
She petted Vail’s hair and hummed to him as she stroked him.
“You want to come inside while I take a peek at Mackenzie and hunt for the witch?” Her voice was as soft as the first light of morning, but Vail still shook his head.
“I do not want the vampires in the house,” he grumbled into her shoulder.
She patted his back.
“Fair enough. No bloodsuckers in the house. Maybe you can stay outside with them, talk to Fuery and get some air.” Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. “And keep an eye on the demoness. Her breed is sketchy as fuck.”
Syn huffed at that but didn’t deny it.
Vail drew down a deep, shuddering breath and straightened. He released Rosalind and looked as if the last ten minutes hadn’t just happened. His face was a black mask as he eyed the vampires, all trace of softness gone from it.
Grave and Night exchanged a look, and if they were planning to mention the vulnerability they had witnessed in Vail, they were dumber than she had thought. She waited, part of her wanting them to cross that line just so she could see what would happen, the rest of her willing the two males to continue to hold their tongues.
When they said nothing, she was a little disappointed, had to remind herself that the vampires were her allies and she was meant to be on their side. She put it down to having an elf for a mate. It was already colouring her opinion of vampires.
Rosalind came to her, snatched her free hand and tugged her forwards. “Probably best we do this quickly.”
Mackenzie stumbled along behind her, losing her grip on Hartt’s hand. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, relief swift to bloom as she spotted him following her. She turned back to face front so she didn’t fall flat on her face and grunted as a taut wire or something slapped her across her forehead, almost knocking her onto her ass.
“Watch the washing line!” Rosalind hollered without slowing and huffed. “Took me bloody ages to get that thing around the trees with Vail constantly muttering about how it would hurt them.”
“I heard that, little wild rose,” Vail called.
Rosalind peeked over her shoulder and blew him a kiss. “Don’t kill the vampires.”
He sighed and sullenly said, “I will endeavour not to, my love.”
Mackenzie didn’t think that sounded promising. Hopefully Fuery could keep his prince in line and stop him from slaughtering their allies. She glanced at Syn, sure her friend could handle herself if things went south.
But just in case, she was going to get this mystical witch-hunt over quickly.
Chapter 27
Hartt came up beside Mackenzie, took her hand from Rosalind and clutched it tightly as they strode together towards the small cottage. Rosalind opened the wooden back door for them and stepped inside, and Mackenzie followed, her eyes widening as she entered a quaint country kitchen that was far too big to fit in the space she had seen from outside.
A deceptively small cottage.
A strange sensation skittered over her bare arms and it wasn’t the cold or the sudden warmth that encased her like a comforting blanket as the door closed behind her. It was magic. She had been around plenty of witches in her life, more than she had ever wanted to be near, but none of their magic had ever felt like this.
It was like a light caress over her skin, a soothing touch that warmed and calmed, took away her nerves and left her feeling she could trust the witch who disappeared around a corner in the corridor ahead of her. Hartt began walking in that direction, paused and looked back at her when she didn’t move.
“Are you all right?” He stepped up to her, smoothed his palm across her cheek and angled her head up, so their eyes met.
She hesitated and then nodded. “It’s just… the magic.”