She sagged to the snowy ground, her rasping breaths and the fear he could feel in her cutting at him.
“Mackenzie.” He dropped to his knees before her, eyes darting over her, sickness brewing inside him when the wet on her thigh caught the moonlight and taunted him. She was bleeding out, weakening right before his eyes, her strength ravaged by whatever the fire was he could feel running through her. He growled. “Hold on.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond. He gently pulled her onto her feet and scooped her up into his arms and teleported.
He landed near Rosalind, so close she shrieked. In a heartbeat, a blade was against his throat, forcing his chin up. He had to still to stop himself from being cut on it. His eyes edged towards Vail where he had appeared beside him.
Awareness and recognition dawned in his prince’s corrupted black-to-violet eyes.
Those eyes fell to the precious cargo Hartt held as Mackenzie moaned and shuddered.
Vail moved his blade away from Hartt’s throat and Rosalind rushed forwards, her blue eyes wide as she ran them over Mackenzie.
“What happened?” Rosalind glanced at him.
His heart laboured so fast that he feared it might stop, knew that it would if he lost Mackenzie. There would be no point in going on without her.
“The mage. He stabbed her with a blade. Obsidian I think.” He couldn’t be sure though, had caught only a glimpse of it before the bastard had fled, forcing Hartt to deal with his clones so he could take care of Mackenzie.
“Set her down.” Rosalind waved her hand and a thick pile of dark furs appeared on the icy ground.
Hartt did as she wanted but didn’t move away from Mackenzie, remained kneeling beside her as Rosalind eased down onto hers on the other side of his mate. She closed her eyes and held her hands out over the spot where the blade had pierced his ki’ara and he held his breath as he waited, desperate to hear her verdict.
It seemed like an eternity before Rosalind finally opened her eyes and looked at him, silver stars dancing among the blue of her irises.
“I can reverse this spell.”
“Thank the gods,” he muttered, and sagged as all the tension flooded from him. He leaned over Mackenzie, smoothed her red hair from her damp forehead and pressed a kiss to it. “Rest easy, my love. Rosalind will take care of you.”
Mackenzie weakly lifted her hand and clutched his wrist, stopping him from moving as her fiery golden eyes sought his. “No. I can come. I can fight.”
Hartt shook his head. He wouldn’t hear of it.
He gently removed her hand from his and looked at Rosalind and then Vail. “Keep her here, no matter what.”
Vail nodded and moved to stand next to her, the grim look in his eyes telling Hartt he was going to take the duty of protecting Hartt’s mate seriously. Very seriously apparently. Vail growled and bared fangs at Syn as she dared to rush to Mackenzie’s side, shoved his palm to her chest and held her back.
“That’s my friend you—” she cut herself off as her amber eyes fell to Mackenzie. “Tell me you’re going to be all right, Mac’n’Cheese.”
Mackenzie smiled tightly. “Hate that nickname.”
“She’s going to be all right.” Syn cast Hartt a look that said she wasn’t really convinced of that. “Who did this?”
Frey appeared a short distance behind Syn, a flicker of relief lighting his blue eyes as they landed on her.
“The mage. I lost sight of him.” Hartt checked his sword and then tightened his fingers around the grip. “I’m going to hunt him down.”
“Not alone, you’re not.” Syn readied her own blade. “I’m coming with you. Mac would never forgive me if I let you get yourself killed.”
Frey gave Syn’s back a look that made it clear Syn wouldn’t be the only one coming with Hartt to hunt the mage. The big demon king had clearly decided he wanted Syn as his partner in this fight, and Hartt had to wonder…
Did he only want her as his partner in this battle or was that desire going to still be there once the fight was done?
Syn grabbed Hartt from behind and beat her black wings, hauled him higher and higher into the air. He grimaced as the ground dropped away below him, as the clones became tiny specks. Only a hundred feet from Rosalind and Vail, Grave and Isla were fighting alongside Night, working with impressive coordination to cut down a group of clones.
He growled as he realised those clones were battling to protect someone who looked just like them.
The black-haired mage wasn’t the only one who had come onto the battlefield, leaving the safety of the stronghold behind.
As Hartt scoured the snowfield below him, he spotted more mages, counted close to a dozen of them in total, each of them leading at least a dozen clones towards his side. He sent a prayer to his gods that the vampires, Isla and Vail could handle them while he, Syn and Frey worked to take down the male he knew without a doubt was their leader.
A terrible bellow rent the night air, cutting above the din of battle, and Hartt looked back in time to see Isla breaking a kiss with the mage who had been controlling the clones close to her team. The male wobbled and slumped, fell in a heap on the ground as Isla released him. The clones immediately dropped too, disappeared like smoke before they hit the snow.
One down, only ten or so more to go.
Cold light shimmered around Isla and she suddenly disappeared.
“Isla!” Grave yelled and the second she appeared close to another mage, this one a blond male just beneath Hartt, the vampire sprinted to reach her, Night hot on his heels.
Isla was incredible as she swept through the clones, as she cut them down with her sword, carving a path to the mage. Syn banked left and Hartt realised she was looking over her shoulder as Frey broke away from them, as his roar shook the air and he pinned his leathery wings back, shooting towards Isla as two clones managed to grab hold of her.
The phantom disappeared, melting into nothing only to reappear a short distance from the two copies, just as Frey barrelled into them. He grabbed one by their face and slammed him so hard into the frozen ground that his head exploded. He slashed at the other with his wings, keeping him back.
Isla kept sweeping forwards, her feet hovering above the ground as she set her sights on the mage.
The male backpedalled, glancing around to his left and right. Clones formed there and moved to block Isla. Frey cut them down, and Grave joined him, the two of them working in tandem to clear a route for the vampire’s mate.
Syn cursed and rolled right, and Hartt’s eyes widened as a blast of crimson light shot past him, close enough that he felt the heat of it. He looked at his boots and unleashed an oath of his own as the spell did a U-turn and came after them. The demoness flew harder, but he was slowing her down, and the spell was gaining.
Hartt stared at the ground far below them and focused, willing a teleport. Silvery light chased over him and he braced himself, somehow managed to hit the ground running.
And brought Syn with him.
“What the—” She dropped him and beat her wings, twisted and turned, and looked back at where they had been. “Oh, crap.”
He looked there too.
A bright ball of crimson fire was shooting straight towards them.
Hartt focused to teleport, cried out as the spell hit the ground before he could muster another one and he tumbled through the air, the world spinning around him. He couldn’t tell which way was up as it all blurred together, didn’t have a chance to brace himself either. He slammed into the packed snow and rolled across it, arms and legs flailing, every bone in his body aching as he crashed into the thick trunk of a pine at the edge of the forest that hugged the base of the mountains.