Crimson Covenant (Onyx Assassins 1)

I’m okay. I felt her words down the bond as clearly as if she’d whispered them in my ear, and they steadied me like nothing else could have. My queen wasn’t quivering in fear. She was strong and shaken, but nowhere near broken.

She glanced to my left, then my right.

I nodded almost imperceptibly, but she saw it.

“What honor do you have?” Moorehouse yelled, his complexion shifting from red to almost purple in his rage. “If you saw Zebulon that night, you were there when they set the building on fire! You let them die!”

“In my defense, they were already dead. In fact, I personally killed Ephraim and Abigail, who I might add, was dancing around in my mother’s pearls. The pearls Ephraim had taken off my mother’s body the night before while I’d been upstate.” I bared my fangs. “And I thought the fire was a fitting ending since they’d dragged my parents wounded bodies from the safety of our home into the sun to burn. Why do you think we killed every human involved? They were the only ones who knew the location of the estate.”

Some of the color left Moorehouse’s face. “And the humans here that you’ve slaughtered? You betrayed your own Covenant!”

“For which I will answer to the Conclave. It was your kind that broke the Covenant, not ours.”

“And I’m ready to rule justifiable homicide.” Genevieve appeared to my right in the space between my arm and Benedict, her icy glamour falling away in an avalanche of magic. “What about you, Xavier?”

Heat blasted at my left as Xavier dropped his own glamour, cracking a yawn. “I agree, and I’ve got O’Flannery here on the nanny cam.” He wiggled his cell phone.

“I agree. No charges will be brought by the Consortium.”

“Excellent, then we all agree.” Xavier cracked a grin, revealing a dimple.

“But…but…” Moorehouse sputtered, and the gun against Lyric’s head began to tremble. “We’re protected here! You can’t—”

“Please. I wear jewelry with more ruby dust than this.” Genevieve rolled her eyes. “We’re ancients, you dumbass human.”

Xavier sighed. “Now will you just get to the part where you tell Borehouse over here that Zeb was half-vampire? Because this whole evil mastermind speech is boring the shit out of me, and I have better things to do at five a.m., like sleep.”

Valor sucked in an audible breath.

Moorehouse lost a little of that color. “You lie!”

“Like I’d even bother with you. I’ve seen enough.” His gaze settled on a wounded guard at the edge of the hallway. “Oooh, look, a nice survivor to interrogate. I want answers on how you convinced those low-level demons to attack the vampire princess.” He gripped the man by the collar, then nodded at Lyric. “Nice to meet you, Seer. Good luck surviving the morning.” He disappeared.

Moorehouse gave a battle cry and wrenched the gun away from Lyric’s head.

Now.

Bullets erupted from the pistol as I charged him, speeding past the diaphanous barrier of frosted wind as I raced toward Lyric.

Time slowed to a crawl, a gift from Genevieve, and I used every bit of it as I raised my Glock, squeezing off two rounds.

I took one in my chest, but it barely registered more than a slap, failing to pierce the Kev—

Pain erupted in my shoulder, searing and urgent. Again at my neck, grazing the side. Then my abdomen, right below my vest, caught fire once—twice—and my vision went thermal…and stayed that way.

My first bullet hit Moorehouse right between the eyes, and the second only made the hole bigger. I lunged forward and ripped his arm off Lyric before his body even had a chance to fall or drag her with it.

Time resumed its normal speed, and I heard Genevieve pant from exertion—the cost of what she’d given me.

Lyric spun out of Moorehouse’s grip, baring her fangs with a hiss before launching herself at the guard next to her, ripping into his throat and draining him dry as the other guards dropped from bullet wounds delivered by my Assassins.

My vision normalized.

Fuck me, she was glorious, a warrior queen rising not only to avenge her own abuse, but defend her mate as she made quick work finishing off he guard. She released him from her grip, and he crumpled to the ground just before the last beat of his heart.

“I fucking love you,” I growled.

She wiped the corners of her lips with her index finger. “Good, because I’m head over heels for you.”

Relief took me out at the knees, the adrenaline washing out of me now that it was over. She was safe. Her wounds would heal. She would thrive. We would—

The world went hazy, blurring at the edges, then doubling.

“Alek!” Lyric shouted, reaching for me, but suddenly I was staring at the drop ceiling and the fluorescent lights. “Oh, God, no!”

My ears rang, and the pain—holy shit, the pain—consumed me as warmth spread along my stomach. I reached down, but Lyric was already there, and her hands came away red. “Lachlan! What do I do?”