Bound by the Night (Bound 4)

“She’s back…”

“Back and pissed,” Iona clarified, letting her voice ring out and not glancing over at Latham and Jamie even as the scent of blood deepened in the air. “So come closer, and try to take me down, if you think you’re strong enough.” Then she crooked her index finger at them, daring the fools to come and get her.

Because she needed them closer. They had to be close for her fire to reach them. Just a little closer…

A tall, red-headed vampire made the mistake of lunging for her.

When he was within range of her power, she tossed a ball of fire right at his chest. He hit the ground, screaming and rolling as he tried to put out a fire that just wouldn’t be stopped. Only she could stop those flames. Iona wasn’t in the mood to stop them.

The other vampires froze.

“Who’s next?” Iona challenged.

Bones crunched behind her. More shifting wolves. She turned and saw a big, gray wolf rushing toward her.

A shot thundered out.

The wolf fell, a silver bullet embedded in his spine. There was a shout then, and Iona saw Sean jump down from his position on the wall. He attacked, fighting the wolves that had come for him.

He was fighting—and winning his battle.

Iona’s gaze darted to the right. Sean and Latham weren’t in human form any longer. Two big, fierce black wolves were fighting, tangled in claws and teeth and blood. The wolves—they looked just alike to her. She wasn’t sure which wolf was winning the battle…or which wolf was Jamie.

“I’m next!” A woman’s voice shouted. “And I’m not afraid of that bitch!”

You should be.

The line of vamps parted. A woman rushed forward. A small woman with long, curly, brown hair. She smirked at Iona and fire rose above the woman’s delicate palm. “See? I can do it, too.”

Ah, so this was the new witch that Latham had picked up. Being right felt so good. “I’m not drugged this time.” Iona felt she should point out that little fact.

The witch frowned.

“That’s how Latham’s first witch got the advantage. The drugs in my system slowed me down…” Iona threw her flames at the woman. The witch’s hair caught fire, and the woman screamed as she stumbled back. “I’m not slow now…and lady, I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you!”

The witch—minus a whole lot of hair—ran away, shrieking. Easy enough. Too easy. Must be slim-pickings when it came to magic power these days.

Iona lifted her hands into the air. It was time to send a message to the paranormals out there. She didn’t want to be looking over her shoulder, worried that others would come and hunt her.

They needed to be too afraid to even whisper her name.

Blood Queen. She could be her, again, in order to be free.

“Run,” she ordered the fools still around her. “Or die.” Then she called up the magic inside, letting it whip through her and form a circle of fire, a bright ring that closed around her and the two black wolves that fought a life-or-death battle. Everyone else was on the outside, and the fire snapped out at those vampires and werewolves, attacking with greedy tendrils of flame that ignited flesh and sent shrieks into the night.

Most ran. They would be the ones to spread the new story of the Blood Queen’s rebirth.

As for the ones who didn’t run? The slow? The idiots who still thought they could kill her?

They died.

And then there was only Iona…in the circle with her wolves.

She could kill them both with a thought. Send the fire ripping at them but…

Iona didn’t want Jamie to die. Which wolf?

She needed to see their eyes. Their scents were too linked then—they were too close to each other. There was too much blood. If she could just look into the wolves’ eyes, she’d know her lover.

The claws of one wolf shoved into his opponent’s stomach. A long, mournful howl filled the night. The injured beast heaved on his side and slowly, slowly began to transform.

The fur melted from his body. Familiar, golden flesh emerged once more. She knew the strong line of that jaw. Knew the heavy slash of those cheeks.

The other beast snarled into the air, a cry of fury and dominance. Then the beast turned to face Iona.

Not Jamie’s eyes. But then, she’d already known her lover was the one bleeding out on the ground.

She lifted her hands and tossed as much fire as she could at Latham. She wanted that bastard to burn.

Only, he didn’t burn. The flames just sank into his thick fur and disappeared. Tendrils of smoke drifted into the air.

The snap and crunch of his bones reached her ears. He shifted before her, a fast, brutal shift.

She couldn’t see Jamie’s body behind him. Was Jamie still alive? And why did it feel like someone had ripped out her heart?

“I’ve got so much of your blood pumping in me,” Latham snarled as he closed in on Iona and grabbed her wrists. His hold was rough, too strong, so painful it felt like he was about to break her bones. “Thanks to all that blood, your magic can’t hurt me, Iona. Nothing can anymore.”

The fire sure couldn’t. But she wasn’t about to give up yet. “Then let’s just see what my teeth can do…” And she sank her fangs into his throat.

His blood burned her, going down as hot as acid on her tongue, but she didn’t let him go. She’d drain him, if that was her only way and—

He screamed and pulled away from her.

No, he didn’t pull away. Jamie had snatched Latham back. Because her Jamie wasn’t dead. He was on his feet and he’d spun Latham around to face him…spun him around and, as she watched, Jamie shoved his claws into his brother’s chest.

“She was the distraction,” Jamie whispered as he let his brother stagger away from him. “You should have made sure I was dead.”

Latham’s head swung toward her. He shook his head even as blood pumped from his chest. “I’m…immortal.”

“Not anymore you’re not,” Iona told him. Jamie had been right. Latham was still too fixated on her. Fixated enough to make a fatal mistake.

He’d turned his back on a werewolf who wanted his blood.

Latham’s teeth snapped together. “You won’t…live…without…me!” He rushed toward Iona.

And Jamie’s claws slashed over his brother’s throat even as the thunder of a gun echoed and a bullet slammed into Latham’s chest.

Sean…doing his job and avenging his parents. Overkill could be a good thing.