An elf who had looked as if he had wanted to do more than maim her. He had wanted to murder her, and in the pit of her soul, she felt certain he would have if Hartt hadn’t stopped him.
She remained where she was on the ground outside the town as she pondered that, as she tried to piece together the puzzle that was Hartt and failed dismally. She never had been good at that sort of shit, but she was sure this time her failure was because Hartt was missing a few pieces.
His sanity being one of them.
She had seen the heat of battle overcome more than one warrior in her time, had witnessed instincts kick in to protect someone when the chips were down, but she had never seen anything like Hartt.
One moment he had been the epitome of a warrior—calm, in control, calculating every move he could make before he made it, and a match for her in ways she didn’t want to examine too closely.
The next, he had been something straight out of a nightmare.
She hadn’t expected to land the blow on him. Part of her had believed he would block it, and when she had plunged the dagger into his chest, she had been as shocked as him.
And then he had transformed before her eyes.
Starting with his irises.
Onyx had devoured the violet, leaving only a tiny flare of it around his pupils, and his fangs had punched long from his gums, white daggers he had tried to sink into her more than once as he had fought her. Clawed her. A savage, wild, and terrifying beast.
She had been so confused as she had tried to defend herself, as she had tried to reach him, some foolish part of her believing that she could talk reason into him and save herself.
Or at least coax him back from whatever darkness had taken command of him.
Mackenzie pushed herself up, a muffled grunt falling from between her gritted teeth as pain blazed across her arm and chest. She sank back onto her ass and breathed through the agony that seared her, waiting for it to fade to a more manageable level. She had heard rumours about elves, that some of them had a darker side that could put even the demons of the Devil’s realm to shame.
She had always wanted to laugh at anyone who said such things and point them in the direction of her friend and fellow assassin, Jasynder. Syn was darkness incarnate, as unpredictable as the weather in the mortal realm. She changed in the blink of an eye, going from quirky and upbeat with a dash of crazy, to rip-your-balls-off and wear them while I decimate an entire legion of enemies mad.
Hartt had clearly taken a page out of Syn’s book.
There was the assassin who was calculating and controlled, who had actually tried to convince her to let him pay her off, and had looked as if he didn’t want to hurt her.
And then there was the monster who had been wild and powerful, dangerous and deadly, and unrelenting in his pursuit of butchering her alive.
Mackenzie fumbled in the right pocket of her burgundy leathers with her left hand, stifling a cry as her chest ached, white-hot fire blazing across it again. She sagged and breathed hard as she managed to wrangle her phone free. She had purchased it in the fae town in Scotland a few weeks ago and had brought one for Jasynder too, blowing most of their monthly budget.
Syn had scolded her, bringing up the very valid point that she’d had no proof the phones could work in Hell.
Thankfully, they did.
She dialled the only number stored in the smartphone and brought it to her ear. It seemed to ring forever before her friend finally answered.
“What shit are you in now?” Syn’s bright voice came down the line.
A small smile teased Mackenzie’s lips, warmth spreading through her upon hearing her friend’s voice, chasing away the lingering traces of fear. “Kitty has claws and bared them at me. Bring me a med kit? I’m just outside the town with the vampire infestation.”
Syn huffed, and Mackenzie could practically see her rolling her eyes. “Told you they were mean. It runs in the blood, sweetie. All men are bastards.”
A motto that Syn lived by.
“Just bring the kit and leave the scolding.” Mackenzie stretched her senses around her, making sure she was still alone.
She could teleport if forced to, but she didn’t want to risk it. It would deplete her, stealing the last of her strength.
“Already here.” Syn’s voice sounded behind her, and Mackenzie grimaced as she tried to turn to look at her friend. The demoness’s amber eyes widened, her red lips parting as she took her in. “Looks like kitty used you as a scratching post.”
Syn crouched in front of her and set the small black box down, opened it and ran her fingers over several of the colourful vials nestled among dark grey foam. She paused on a blue one and raised her luminous eyes back to Mackenzie’s face.
The demoness canted her head and lifted her hand from the vial to brush her fingertips across Mackenzie’s lips.
“Please tell me he punched your lipstick off.”
Mackenzie swallowed hard. Damn it. She should have had the foresight to know her friend would spot the tell, should have cleaned the remains of her lipstick off before Syn had arrived.
Syn rolled her eyes. “Really, Mackenzie?”
She was quick to shake her head, something she regretted when the right side of her chest stung. A blow for a blow. She had stabbed Hartt on that side, and he had targeted it when he had turned into some murderous, rampaging madman.
“He busted my nose.” A reasonable excuse. “I must have smeared it when I was wiping the blood away.”
Syn didn’t look as if she was buying it. Her friend got comfortable, sitting cross-legged on the dirt as if they were out for a delightful picnic somewhere picturesque, not recovering from a fight that might have ended with Mackenzie’s death.
If the elf hadn’t pulled his punches at the last minute.
Cold snaked down her spine as she replayed how he had changed again, abruptly stopping himself when he had an opening, could have easily taken her down. Had the side of him that didn’t want to hurt her risen back to steal control in that moment?
“Tell Auntie Syn all about it.” The demoness patted her knee and Mackenzie scowled at her. Syn pouted, pulling a face of mock pity. “Did the big, bad man hurt my widdle girl?”
Now Mackenzie really glared at her. “He got a few lucky shots in and it’s not like I could do much about them. He snapped.”
“Snapped?” Syn’s jet eyebrows rose and she leaned back, toyed with one of the silver streaks in her onyx pixie cut and pretended she wasn’t stroking the tip of her small polished black horns that curled around her ears.
“Like a rubber band. Is that right?” Mackenzie pulled a face. “Maybe more like a twig. One minute he was whole, the next he was… broken.”
That summed him up a little too well and she fell silent as she contemplated how suddenly he had changed on her. She made a mental note to be more on guard around him, in case Mr Hyde came out to play again.
Not that she was planning on spending more time with him.
“Ooh.” Syn’s amber eyes lit up. “Mac’n’cheese is a bad girl and made out with a tainted elf.”
She hated it when her friend called her that and Syn knew it.
Mackenzie tensed when her senses lit up, but Syn was already way ahead of her, turned her head to her right to glare at the male who had just emerged from an alley between the buildings there. One of the vampire guards.
“Get lost, fang face. This is a private party.” Syn’s black leathery wings suddenly unfurled from her bare back, the reason she always insisted on wearing corsets with low-cut rears.
The blond vampire took one look at them and then at her friend’s horns, and left them alone.
“Freaking pervert,” Syn muttered.
According to the demoness, every male was a pervert looking to score with every female on the planet. None of them was worth even a tenth of their weight in salt and all of them were incompetent meat-sacks not worth her time.
Mackenzie never had been able to get her friend to c
onfess what had happened in her past to birth such an aversion to the opposite sex. The few times she had tried, Syn had either clammed up hard or had lashed out at her and not spoken to her for weeks.
She had stopped asking when Syn had done something other than those two things.
The sight of her best friend breaking down into tears had been enough to earn Mackenzie’s silence on the matter.
“So, he did kiss you, right?” Syn leaned forwards again, her wings shrinking into her back, and placed both palms on the knees of her black leather pants. The demoness peered closely at her, her amber eyes narrowing, and then they widened. “Oh my Dark Lord… you totally kissed him.”
Mackenzie grimaced.
Syn’s eyes lit up as if she had just confessed every juicy detail. “Sick. You are sick. You know he’s the enemy, right? The competition? Did you want to give him a happy ending?”
Mackenzie frowned at her friend. “No. It was the heat of the moment. The battle high. I didn’t mean to do it, and it won’t happen again.”
It really wouldn’t. She wasn’t fantasising about it right that moment. She really wasn’t.
But sweet gods, his lips had been firm and unyielding, his kiss commanding and absolutely thrilling, as if he had been made to kiss her. His body had felt delicious against hers too, all hard, honed muscles that had set fire to her blood, had made her crave more.
She groaned.
She still craved more.
Syn leaned her head to her left. “You look awfully like you’re smooching him in your head. You’re totally smooching him in your head, aren’t you?”
Her friend gasped, her eyes widening.
“Or are you undressing him? Oh, Mackenzie. You really need to get laid or something if you’re wanting to bone the competition.”
She wanted to refute that accusation, but what was the point? Syn would only see straight through whatever flimsy lie she dreamed up.
“It isn’t going to happen. My wires are just crossed. You’re right. I need to blow off steam and he just happens to be revving my engine whenever we cross paths. Fighting is a powerful aphrodisiac.”
Her second-oldest brother had told her that.
Her mood faltered as she thought about him, as that thought led to ones about the rest of her family and before she could stop it, she was spiralling down a dark rabbit hole of misery.
“Mac?” Syn shuffled closer and stroked her knee. “Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry. I’ll lay off. No more talk of the kitty.”
“Hartt.” She sniffled and rubbed her nose, regretted the hell out of it when the cartilage the elf in question had fractured shifted and a thousand hot needles pricked her across her cheeks. “Kitty’s name is Hartt.”
Syn froze. “Hartt. Hartt of that guild.”
Before she could answer, Syn continued, her pace picking up as she moved closer still, dragging the box with her and plucking the blue vial from it.
“You should have told me. Are you crazy? We’re good, sweetie, but we’re not that good. You’re backing out of this contract.” Syn popped the star-shaped lid off the vial and a waft of lavender with an undernote of brimstone hit Mackenzie. “That’s an order. This is suicide, Mac. Suicide. I don’t care what the bastard client offered you. Nothing is worth you dying.”
“Ten thousand,” Mackenzie muttered as Syn raised the vial to her lips.
The scent that came off it stung her nostrils and made her eyes water as Syn froze again.
“Coins?” Syn said. “Ten thousand gold coins?”
Mackenzie gave a tiny nod.
“Shit,” Syn grumbled and sank back, taking the vial with her. She stared at Mackenzie, her amber gaze distant, her red lips parted and her black eyebrows pinned high on her forehead. “Ten thousand in gold coins could… well, what couldn’t it do?”
“Add to that the prestige that will come from claiming the head of this mark, and we’re set, Syn. This is what we’ve been working towards all this time.” A shiver ran down her spine. “We made a vow when we lost Trina. We swore we would lead the guild well and we would do whatever it took to elevate it to the place where it should have been, so Trina would be proud of us. This is what it takes, Syn. This is our chance.”
She neglected to mention that Hartt had offered to buy her out. Syn would no doubt jump on the offer and the chance to get Mackenzie out of a dangerous situation.
Mackenzie took the blue vial from her friend and swallowed the contents. She grimaced as it went down like a shot of slime and coated her throat. The moment it hit her stomach, she placed her hand over her mouth and cried into it, muffling the sound. Fire spread through her like a tidal wave, felt as if it was burning her to ashes as the spell went to work. It blazed like an inferno where the elf had clawed her, and on her arm, set her leg aflame too. Sweat dotted her brow as she tried to ride the wave of agony, clinging to consciousness.
The first time she had taken the potion to speed her healing, she had passed out.
Syn had kindly called her a wuss when she had come around.
“So, what’s the plan? Kiss your boyfriend some more until he succumbs to your charms and gives up the fight? I’ve heard all the same tales you have. He won’t back down.” Syn took the empty vial from her and placed it back in the case.
“I know that.” And she wasn’t planning to kiss him again.
Ever.
It had been a mistake, and it had left her reeling and confused, and deeply troubled. Something was wrong with her. That was the only reasonable answer.
“I injured him too,” she said and tested her arm, rolling her right shoulder. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the gods when she didn’t feel even the slightest twinge. She was good to go. “He’s going to be out of action for a while and I plan on taking advantage of that.”
Syn accidentally played with her horn again, and levelled a black look on Mackenzie for noticing the tell. Her friend was nervous. Worried.
“I’ll be fine.” Mackenzie touched her knee.
“Of course you will be,” Syn said brightly. “Because I’m coming with.”
Mackenzie was quick to shake her head. “You know the rules he laid down. It has to be solo… and don’t say he wouldn’t know, because I have the sneaking suspicion he would. I don’t want to lose a payday that big because I broke one of his cardinal rules.”
The client had been very clear about what would happen if she didn’t follow his rules to the letter. No coin. Not only that, but he would hire someone to take care of her. She wasn’t about to take his threat lightly.
“I have this, Syn.” She squeezed the demoness’s knee through her black leathers. “If I get in there now, while the elf has gone to regroup and heal up, then I can wrap this up without having to fight him again.”
She expected the thought of never having to see Hartt again to be a relief, but it left a strange hollow feeling in her chest. It had been more than a mistake to kiss him. She closed her eyes and told herself on repeat that he was the enemy. A good looking, dangerously alluring enemy, but an enemy nonetheless. He couldn’t be anything else to her.
“Yeah, you just have to fight the vampire… on his home turf… while he’s surrounded by his entire legion.” Syn closed the lid of the case with a snap. “Tell me you know what you’re doing.”
Mackenzie looked off to her left, at the rears of the dark stone buildings that formed the outskirts of the town, and drew down a breath to steady herself.
She locked gazes with Syn.
“I have a plan.”
Chapter 10
Mackenzie’s plan was either going to get her killed or get her guild the recognition they deserved. As she strode into the centre of the town, leaving the wasteland behind, she tipped her shoulders back and flicked the loose waves of her flame-red hair over her shoulder. As predicted, several males stared, their heated gazes tracking her as she wove her way along the busy street.
She paused from time to time, ensuring she caught the eye of the
males as much as possible, and ignored how the jewels and pretty things in the bay windows of the stores drew her gaze to them. Her oldest brother had called her Magpie when she had been younger, had always teased her about how she was distracted by shiny things. A faint smile teased her lips as she recalled those happier times, back in the north where mountains formed havens for her kind.
Her senses stretched around her as she gazed at the rings and other jewellery, items she wanted but would never own. They looked expensive, and as much as she desired them, it would be pointless to save the coin to buy them. She didn’t have anywhere to wear them, and she couldn’t wear them to work.
She was liable to destroy them.
A group of males paused near her as she slowly tucked her hair behind her ear and grazed her fingertips down the side of her throat. Their eyes tracked her hand, fixed on her neck and lingered there.
Vampires.
She shifted her gaze to the right as she lifted it, pretended to look at the jewellery but instead looked at the reflection in the glass.
Three males.
Two of them wore the traditional uniform of the Preux Chevaliers, were dressed in fine black knee-length jackets, tight trousers and polished riding boots. The third, a brunet, wore mortal fashion of a black shirt and trousers.
It wasn’t the first time she had seen a vampire in the town wearing clothing of a more civilian nature. Every time she had visited to do some recon work, she had witnessed groups of vampires dressed in attire from the mortal realm, and she supposed it was to be expected since they had all been born and raised there.
Vampires of the aristocratic bloodlines—a fancy word for being a purebred vampire with no turned humans in their lineage—all served in the Preux Chevaliers for a term of four centuries.
According to her intel, Lord Van der Garde had been serving for far longer than that.
The trio of vampires talked to each other, bending their heads together, and a darkness marred the tallest one’s face. He wasn’t happy about something. Did the other two vampires want to try their luck with her too?
Scorched by Darkness: Eternal Mates Series Book 18 Page 9