by Raine Thomas
We’ll protect them, Ty thought as he trailed his fingers through her hair. We’ll find a way.
I know. It won’t be easy, though. Even once we get through the protections, we have to get across the megais to reach the palace.
She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know, but he still nodded. There was no telling how they’d be received by anyone they encountered on their journey back to the palace. They had considered and dismissed having Eyra come out to the Dark Lands to pick them up to make the trip shorter and faster. Sem had informed them that Vycor was monitoring the pilot more closely now. Apparently, Eyra’s trip to drop off Gren and Kyr in the Dark Lands had raised a red flag. They didn’t want to bring any more trouble to Eyra’s doorstep.
They had no way to know who would be on Vycor’s side or under the Advisor’s influence. If they encountered people with the same shields that Vycor had given Shaya, those people would alert Vycor to their plans. Kyr had yet to figure out how to get around those blocks. It was a problem they’d work on solving together.
Scarlyt had expressed concern for the people in the mine, too. They still had no idea how far Vycor’s influence reached, but they all knew there was something in the works. The little exposure that Ty had gotten to the Marauders confirmed that.
They were probably going to have to split up as they put their plans into effect. While he and Kyr headed to the palace, Gren and Scarlyt would stay behind to help the Outcasts and find out what Vycor and the Marauders were planning. Ty knew this plan upset Kyr, who was very attached to Gren.
Ty had mentioned the V’larian equipment he had seen in the Dark Lands, but no one had a clue how that tied into everything, if at all. It was another piece of the puzzle that Ty was determined to work through.
Despite all of the unknowns, he had a sense of optimism that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He knew that, together, he and Kyr would rise to any challenge.
I love you, TaeDane, Kyr conveyed as she experienced his thoughts along with him. Whatever we face, whatever battles we’ll wage, we’ll do it to protect that love. You’re my match…you’re the Faire-Amanti.
And together, we will rise.
Don't miss Book Three of the Ascendant Series, Rise of the Faire-Amanti, coming in 2014. Sign up for book notifications at RaineThomas.com today and be the first to know about new releases!
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If you're a fan of the Ascendant series and New Adult Paranormal Romance, continue reading to check out the exciting excerpt from T.A. Kunz's Witch Hunter Olivia -- Now Available!
Witch Hunter Olivia
Peer pressure is such a bitch, and tonight my best friend, Tara, has made it into an art form.
She has me doing two things simultaneously that I swore I’d never do: wear a skirt and attend a sorority rush party. At first I refused when she asked me to throw on a horrid layered pink skirt she found in the back of our dorm room closet, but then I grudgingly agreed to wear the little black number I currently have on.
Oh, and for the record, I’m not anti-girly things. I just grew accustomed to dressing a certain way for my previous … uh, I guess it could be called a profession. Some said it was my responsibility, my destiny, and even my curse, but in any case, I usually did it wearing skinny jeans, boots, and a blouse.
Great. Here come the cramps again.
I twinge as a dull ache flows through my abdomen when a group of sorority sisters stroll by, all clad in different shades of pink, making their social rounds for the fifth time tonight. These little cramps are life’s wonderful way of telling me I’m in the presence of a witch—light or dark—and this party is unfortunately chock-full of them. I can’t seem to move two feet without getting a light surge through the midsection.
Guess what happens when a male Witch Hunter gets close to one. Give up? They get a sulfur taste in their mouths and sweaty palms. That’s it. Yet again, Mother Nature’s kicked us females in the lady bits, even when it comes to dealing with the paranormal world.
Speaking of the paranormal world, witches run it like a boss. Every other race has attempted to knock them from their pedestal, but because they’re able to blend in with mortals the easiest—and the fact that they have the whole magic thing going for them—they’ve reigned supreme.
Take this party for instance. Humans and witches are socializing here together with no issues. No one’s screaming for the hills because their date sprouted fangs, or passing out because the person they’re dancing with suddenly traded their beautiful mug in for the hairy, snarling, werewolf variety. Trust me, I’ve seen a werewolf transform, and it isn’t pretty.
There was a time when witches posed a greater threat though, hence the reason the Elders formed the Guild of Witch Hunters. A Guild I once wholeheartedly swore my allegiance to.
My abdomen relaxes once the small herd leaves the area and enters the throng of people dancing and drinking in the living room. The thought to join them never even crosses my mind as I continue to stand against the wall next to what looks like a shrine comprised of framed pictures of the sorority sisters from years past. I begin to feel like I’m actually fusing with the wall because I haven’t moved from this spot since we arrived.
“Could you please at least act like you’re having an okay time?” I hear Tara laugh next to me over the loud music. “And if you are, you’re doing a terrible job of it, FYI.”
I turn to face her and roll my eyes. After flashing a forced smile, I return my attention to the debauchery happening around us. I understand why Tara wants to be here. I get it, she wants to start over and actually “live” her life, but at the same time, I don’t get it. We’re also trying to lay low in addition to starting over, and Tara dressing up in all pink while prancing around out in the open is the complete opposite of laying low.
“I thought sorority rush parties were supposed to be more, you know, civilized and reserved.”
Tara groans. “Yeah, me too.”
“So, remind me again why you feel the need to be a part of this.”
“We’ve been over this a hundred times already, Livie. I’m a legacy. Alpha Nu Gamma is the only sorority my mom would’ve wanted me to rush. You know this is my only chance to have a connection with her again,” she explains in a huff.
“I know, I know. It’s just that this isn’t your scene, and you know it.”
She releases a sigh while sweeping a few loose strands of her strawberry blonde hair from in front of her face. “Don’t you think I realize that? Look, I’m probably not even going to make the cut. It’s not like my mom’s around to vouch for the whole legacy thing. I always promised her that when I went off to school I’d rush, and now that we’re here at Arcadia, I’ve decided to keep my word.”
I drape my arm around her shoulder and pull her close. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I get that this is important to you, and I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
She squeezes my hand with hers before sending me a quick smile. “Thank you. We’re both in redo mode, and I know it sucks royally. You, with the whole abandoning your duties thing, and me … well, I’m just trying to pick up the pieces and move on.”
Abandoned my duties is putting it lightly. More like I went AWOL.
Witch hunting is all in my past now, and it’s a past I long to keep dead and buried. I dropped it like a bad habit, which didn’t really sit well with the Elders or the rest of the Guild. My mother secretly bent the rules and helped me start my life over, even though she did it behind my father’s back. Per the Guild’s code, she was supposed to shun me and completely sever ties. She understood my reasons for wanting to quit that life, and to a certain extent agreed with me.
My older brother, on the other hand, took it harder than anyone. I think it’s a safe bet to say I won’t be receiving a birthday card from him anytime soon. I’ve got to joke about this whole situation, because if I don’t, I’ll be a mess of tears and feels on the ground.
“Yeah, and whether or not either of us likes it, we’
re stuck together, my friend,” I tease while showing off the tribal infinity symbol tattoo on my wrist, and she does the same with her matching one.
A shrill female’s voice calls out Tara’s name, causing both of our heads to pop up and search through the crowd in front of us. Two girls wave at us from their places next to a large ice sculpture shot luge in the shape of the sorority’s Greek letters.
“Go on … socialize, you little butterfly. That’s what you came here for, right?” I say, giving her a little nudge.
Tara nods with a subtle smile. “You gonna be okay over here all by yourself?”
“I’ve managed so far, right?” I reply with a hint of sass, making her snort.
My eyes follow Tara as she moves away toward the pair of girls who are still enthusiastically signaling her over. Out of nowhere, my abdomen receives a small jolt. My senses become bombarded by the smell of cologne, cinnamon gum, and beer. Glancing to my left, I see a tall, dark, and dreamy guy standing there invading my personal bubble. His appearance screams, “Hey look, I’m a warlock.” He’s even rocking an Eddie Munster widow’s peak and everything. His piercing green eyes would probably be making me swoon against my will right about now, but with me being of Hunter blood, I’m immune to his witchy charms.
Perfect. He’s a frat guy, I think to myself after noticing the Greek letters on the breast of his polo.
“Can I help you?” I ask, dodging his pinning stare while refocusing my gaze straight ahead. I try to play it cool and not let on that I know what he is.
“I don’t see many girls like you around here,” he says, his speech slightly slurred.
I can’t believe he’s faking being tipsy. Alcohol has no effect on witches or warlocks.
“Oh, and what kind of girl is that?”
“Exotic,” he answers, and I can hear his smile when he speaks.
I pan my eyes over in an exaggerated motion to meet his. “Exotic? I’m half-black and half-white. How exactly does that equal exotic?”
He laughs. “Have you looked around this place? Any girl with darker skin than your average spray-on tan would be considered exotic.”
I guess he does have a point. This place is kind of Caucasian bombshell central.
“And I thought you looked mulatto, but I wasn’t going to come right out and say it,” he continues, and then pauses to take a sip of his drink. “You have beautiful caramel skin, by the way.”
Ugh.
Well, at least he didn’t call me “Milano” like the damn cookie. The last time that happened, the guy ended up face-first on the ground. I may or may not have had some anger issues when I was younger, so I guess being a person who used to kick witches’ asses for a living was right up my alley.
“Are you rushing?” he asks after taking another swig from the red Solo cup in his hand.
“I’m only here for moral support.” I nod toward Tara in the distance.
“I see. Well—”
“Let me stop you right there. This,” I motion between him and me, “might work on the little coeds who frolic around campus in their Uggs and miniskirts, but it’s not going to work on me.”
“What do you mean?” He begins staring deep into my eyes. “I happen to be quite charming if given a chance.”
When his eyes begin to glow bright green, I throw my hand up in his face. “Uh-uh, you did not just try and go all warlock on me.”
“Huh?” The shimmer fades from his eyes.
“You heard me. I know you didn’t just attempt to bewitch a Hunter,” I reply, quirking up an eyebrow while crossing my arms in front of my chest.
“Shit—you’re a Hunter?” He sounds so disappointed.
“An ex-Hunter, but yeah,” I respond, relaxing a bit to slump back against the wall. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down. No need to incite a riot up in here.”
“Well, damn. Thanks for letting me waste my breath,” he groans.
“Anytime,” I reply as he storms off.
A year ago, I would’ve tackled him to the ground, slapped a pair of silver cuffs on his wrists to restrict his powers, and hauled his ass away for trying to use magic on a human. Lucky for him though, he just got a “stay out of jail free” card.
“Livie.” Tara’s voice rings out from the crowd before she emerges from the group gathered in front of me. “Angelica really wants to meet you.”
“Uh, great. Who’s Angelica?”
“She’s the president of the sorority, silly,” she responds, reaching out for my hand. She gives it a good tug, trying to get me to follow her, but I resist. “Come on, I promise after you meet her, we can leave, okay?”
“Fine,” I murmur and allow her to lead me through the sea of people.
Angelica is literally everything you’d expect a sorority president to look like. She’s poised, has perfect creamy skin, beautiful shoulder-length curly red hair, and legs that go on for days. Her pristine white-toothed smile looks genuine, but something seems off about her. For one thing, the gaudy bracelet around her wrist clashes tragically with the rest of her outfit. It’s actually the only thing that doesn’t fit with her ensemble.
“You must be Olivia,” Angelica announces when we approach her. “Tara’s told us so much about you.”
“She has, huh?” I send a chastising look toward Tara, to which she just mouths “what?” at me.
“All good things, I assure you,” Angelica chimes in with a reserved smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Angelica,” I say and extend my hand out for hers. She takes hold of mine with a graceful sweeping motion and the moment our skin touches, I get this surge of discomfort. It literally feels like she punched me straight in the abdomen.
“Likewise,” she replies, releasing my hand. An inquisitive look springs to her face, coupled with a furrowed brow.
“So, what do you think about my girl Tara here being a legacy?” I ask, hoping the question will take her focus off my reaction.
“Well, it definitely helps when rushing. Dedication and loyalty are highly valued in our sorority.”
The sound of cracking glass followed by a whooshing noise pulls my attention to the large windows behind Angelica. I hone in on the bolt headed straight for me and snatch it right out of the air. When my eyes pan back over to Angelica, I notice hers are held on the projectile I now hold in my hand, its tip mere inches from my face. Actually, everyone in my direct vicinity is gawking at me with open-mouthed stares. Yeah, this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caught a bolt out of midair that was shot at me, but I can see why it would be shocking to most people.
The glinting of the bolt’s silver tip in the light from the ceiling fan overhead catches my attention. I immediately realize who fired it when I notice the symbol etched into its face—a capital W inside a capital H. This shot wasn’t meant for me.
“Witch Hunters,” I whisper as my shocked eyes meet Tara’s.
When I hear another bolt breach the living room window, I wrap my arms around Angelica’s waist and drag her to the floor. Two more bolts fly overhead right after, but I don’t see where they hit. Screams fill the area as everyone begins fleeing the scene. While I hold onto Angelica, intense pain makes me cry out.
The pain is worth it to save a life, I keep telling myself.
“Shit,” Tara fumes, causing me to jerk my head up to look over my shoulder at her. She’s standing there analyzing two bolts lodged into her chest while shaking her head. “This is an Ann Taylor dress. Do you know how much an Ann Taylor dress costs?” She looks as if she wants to rip someone limb from limb.
“Will you quit showing off and get down? You may be a zombie, but you only get one body,” I reprimand.
“You know I hate the Z-word,” she complains while ripping out each bolt, one by one, before tossing them to the ground. “I prefer the terms ‘living impaired’ or ‘husk,’ thank you very much.”
“Sorry, but now’s not the time to be arguing about what you’d prefer to be called,” I mutter, letting
go of Angelica when I can’t take the pain any longer. “Now, would you please get your living impaired ass down here and out of sight before your body ends up holier than the Pope?”
Without another word, Tara drops to her hands and knees and scrambles over to join us. There’s a cease in fire for a moment. The living room has emptied out, and we’re the last three in here as I look around. It actually sounds like we’re the last three in the entire house.
“What now?” Tara asks.
“I want you to take Angelica and get to the car. Warm it up for me, I’ll be there in a sec,” I say, tossing her the keys. She catches them and then sends me a worried look.
“But—”
“No buts, just go. You’ve died on my watch once already, and I don’t feel like having a repeat of that event, okay? I need to keep frosty, and this could prove to be a good workout for me anyway.”
Tara nods and then takes hold of Angelica’s arm before pulling her up into a crouched position. “Please don’t get too carried away with the ass kicking, all right?”
“I can’t make any promises. Now go!” I shout before somersaulting to take cover in front of the couch. Thankfully, I made the sensible decision to wear flats instead of heels to this shindig. Summersaulting in heels would’ve been a nightmare and a half.
I watch the pair scurry off as another small volley of bolts pelt the furniture in the living room. The recliner across from me is starting to resemble a pincushion with all the bolts stuck into it.
The sound of more windows shattering behind me sends me jumping to my feet and barreling forward as shards of glass shower down around me. I clear the dark wood coffee table with a single bound (in a skirt!) and tumble over the recliner to hide behind it, putting my back to the set of large windows again.
Peeking around the arm of the chair, I see three figures standing there amongst the wreckage that is now the living room. Dark smoke drips from their fingertips, and their intense, glowing violet eyes shimmer like jewels from underneath the hoods of their black cloaks.