Hunted (War of the Covens 1)

Caia shuddered in offense and rage. “Lunarmorte.”

He laughed harder at her haughtiness. “That’s the one. My goddess … so uncivilized. Ripping your own people apart for a title.”

She snarled, “Isn’t that what you are doing now?”

“No!” he spat back viciously. “You’re a dog polluting the gifts of Gaia!”

“I’m your niece.”

“No. Your blood is nothing like mine. Blood of low-bred, vicious animals that threaten Gaia’s creation, that threaten the delicate balance of our existence with mankind, runs in your veins. Lykan … vampyre. What’s the difference? You’re all the same. A blight on the world and a danger to humans.”

A new fury, or perhaps an ancient one, flushed across Caia’s skin. “We’re not a danger to humans. We have been civilized for centuries. It’s you and your coven who endanger the world with this continual mindless war!” she fumed, surprised by her bravery considering Lucien was dangling before her like a carcass. “And you can paint it any way you want, Uncle … your blood still runs in my veins.”

Satisfaction spread through her as his jaw clenched, his fists curled into white knots. It seemed like forever as he glared at her in disgust. She could feel Lucien’s desperation building at the same time, the burning of Lars’s blast spreading up his right side. Ryder’s control was slipping, and Jaeden’s numbness was returning, like once more she’d given up, waiting for death to come.

“You know …” Ethan drew her attention again. He looked calm, a sly smile playing on his lips. “In a way, you’re right. Why don’t I finish with these mongrels?”

Caia could only watch in dread as a knife-shaped flame burst to life in front of Lucien and scored across his torso, slowly and painfully.

Caia sobbed, leaning against the invisible shield and gulping as the smell of burning flesh hit her nose. “Stop it!” she managed to plead. Ethan ignored her, far more interested in the lykan who refused to scream. Tears of agony tracked Lucien’s cheeks but not a syllable was uttered from between his clenched teeth.

Ethan eyed her thoughtfully. “If I had the time, I would enjoy breaking that one. But I’m far too eager to get down to a Lunarmorte of our very own.”

Caia tried to calm her sobbing as she met Lucien’s eyes. She’d done this to them all. How could he look at her like that, still fearing for her, when she had done this to them? She couldn’t even get out of this damn shield to douse whatever fire Ethan produced.

She searched the room, looking for something, anything, to help her think … and then her eyes caught sight of the moon through the broken window. It seemed as if a rush of wind rustled down from it and into the kitchen, through the shield, and stroked her skin. Caia blinked.

It had come through the shield.

She closed her eyes and pushed against Ethan’s energy with her own—gold meeting ice. Isn’t it funny, she thought distantly, that he should feel like ice when he’s a fire magik. She pushed. Hard. Hard enough to feel a blood vessel pop above her eye. She ignored it and continued, allowing the sounds of Ryder’s clawing and snapping beside her to deliver the animalistic, lykan fury she needed right now.

“It’s not going to work, Caia,” Ethan singsonged. Her eyes flew open at the sound of metal clanging, and she watched in fear as Ethan tapped a long, sharp, metal spike against the wall. She had no idea where it had come from.

“You should say goodbye, Caia.” He let go of the spike, and it danced in the air in front of him before tilting horizontally, its point aimed at Lucien’s chest. “Say goodbye to the dog you love, before I pierce his unworthy heart.”

The spike stilled, inching slowly closer to Lucien. Her breath caught, her eyes locked on his. No. No. No, no, no, no, no!

“Pity you can’t say goodbye to your precious pack, but that just makes this all a little sweeter.”

“NO!” she screamed as he pulled the spike back, ready to plunge.

He looked at her, his eyes sparkling with perverse laughter. “Something to say before the end?”

She nodded and glanced outside, feeling that white heat in her stomach and chest; it crawled up her throat, clawed her face, and blew her hair back with force. She didn’t know how she must’ve looked, what her uncle saw in her eyes or on her body, but his mouth gaped in disbelief and his eyes blinked in fear.

“It’s a full moon.”

“What?” he whispered, stumbling back, and she felt the power spark like electricity between her fingers. She looked at him and smiled.

She exhaled the word, “Lunarmorte.”

May the best Alpha win.

The heat exploded from her, blasting out of her veins, blinding her with its deep and pure white.

Her head hit something hard.