Mated to the Prince (Portal City Protectors Book 3)

by Georgette St. Clair

  Fabiana.

  She was here enough to permeate the space with her smell.

  You could mark it.

  I’m not going to go around pissing on his things.

  Why not?

  Because that’s gross.

  Would get her scent out of here. Just saying.

  She ignored her wolf.

  Red, thank you very much,

  Fine. She ignored Red and followed Pasquale into the house. Fabiana, all willowy and dark hair, was standing at the bottom of the stairs as soon as they entered. She had on a pretty, white summer dress that fluttered in the breeze from outside. It should have been someone’s marketing photo; it was so perfect. She was perfect.

  Something about Fabiana said to protect her, to wrap her in gauze and save her from the hell of the world. The gentle way Pasquale took Fabiana into his arms and hugged her spoke of that.

  Giuliana had never been soft like that. Never been one to be protected because she couldn’t protect herself. They’d done it because they thought it was best for her. She’d never been fragile. And sometimes, she worried her fight to be so strong and independent made her so she’d never be what men wanted.

  Strong men, powerful men, wanted women who made them feel needed. Not women who’d rip off their balls for stepping the wrong way. Not women like Giuliana.

  It’s exactly what we want.

  Snow. He’d spoken into her mind, and Giuliana’s gaze met Pasquale’s over Fabiana’s head.

  We hold her so we won’t break her. We hold you because we know, even with all our strength, you’re impossible to shatter. The snow is of home, but fire is in the heart.

  She swallowed as Snow’s words faded in her head.

  Oh my gods … he is sooooooooooo going to get laid.

  Way to ruin the moment, Red.

  Only because your panties haven’t hit the floor.

  His sister is standing right there.

  Audience!

  Um, no.

  Spoilsport. She’d run away anyway. You blow too hard and the girl would crumble.

  She’s not weak.

  Giuliana was surprised at her own defense of Fabiana, but she wouldn’t call her weak, not after what Pasquale had told her.

  “Hello, Paz.”

  Paz? She calls him Paz? Mine!

  Simmer down. I think the name is cute.

  Diminutive for a diminutive woman.

  Cut it out.

  Her wolf only stuck her tongue out, obviously in a snit because she wasn’t going to get some at the moment.

  “We need to talk to you, Fabiana.”

  Fabiana ducked her head and hid her face in Pasquale’s shoulder. “Am I about to get in trouble?”

  Pasquale stepped back and held her arms, and Fabiana looked up at him. “No. Just need information to help with the missing pack member.”

  “Okay …” She peeked over at Giuliana. “You sure?”

  “Yes, little one. Now, Giuliana, I’m going to say it.”

  With balled fists and determination not to let that singular world blow her to smithereens, she answered. “Go ahead.”

  Impossible to shatter.

  Snow’s words bolstered her.

  “We need to know about the Renegades.”

  Run! Hide! The Renegades are coming.

  Don’t let the memories overtake you.

  Impossible to shatter, Giuliana. Remember.

  “They had been with … Primo—”

  “She knows.”

  “With father, not long after he took over his pack. He was friends with one. Alexi.”

  Don’t come out until I come for you.

  “I don’t remember Alexi.”

  “He stayed outside the compound. The Renegades stayed in Scorched Earth unless called for.”

  Heath’s scent had been in that direction. How had they had traitors so close and never been aware?

  “All the wolves are black as night, the men vicious and hard, better killers than anyone.”

  And it seemed the Lombardi Pack was going to war with them.

  Chapter Eleven

  If Silva never fucking opened her eyes again, she’d be thankful.

  Problem with that, of course, was that life was a tenacious bitch and wouldn’t let her give up, even when she really wanted to. No, that wasn’t right. That was the pain talking. She had to get up, or Kalinda wouldn’t survive.

  She started with her pinky. It seemed like a good idea, until flames streaked across her nerve endings and made her realize that maybe the little piggy cried all the fuck the way home because it hurt. She could barely catch her damn breath.

  Her wings were nothing more than pathetic frazzled lumps of gossamer clinging to her back and she wanted to scream just attempting to unfurl them.

  Silva never knew how much she’d missed flying until they’d sprung from her—thanks to Kalinda bringing her back from the brink of death. Before her chains broke, she hadn’t remembered how powerful she was or that she could even fly. Now she knew she could, and the loss of them was like cutting off legs. Hot tears of anger and betrayal burned their way down her cheeks. They’d heal … maybe. If she got out of here first.

  Kieran of the Shadow.

  He knew who she was, and even how to target her. Fae, as a whole, had elements attached to their magic: fire, earth, air, water, and shadow. Shadow—deadly because it could mimic the others and was rare for their kind—was a bitch to deal with. Silva’s magic was based on earth, from deep within the Earth’s womb where precious metals stemmed from. She controlled silver, or to more aptly put it, she could harden her frame. It’s what made her able to sustain most magics mages could use—outside of Kalinda, of course. She was badass. The weakness of it, though, was it could be formed. And what formed silver? Fire.

  Fire was used to turn so many minerals and stones into something else entirely, like steel into sword, or coal into diamond. And since he’d known her name, her real one, he knew her power. Those of marked connection to an element gained a name tied to their gift.

  Kieran was obviously an adept user of shadow.

  Silva forced her eyes open and swallowed the answering pain that reverberated in her skull. Kalinda was gone, not dead, but gone. In a lightning-quick crash, fear swept over her.

  She’d failed as a Cosantiór for Kalinda. She hadn’t been strong enough to battle those coming for her and had been too assured in her power.

  No mage could stand against a Fae of Silva’s strength, not without serious help from higher levels. Not too many to be found in Encantado. It wasn’t a boast, just simple truth.

  Kieran was not supposed to be here.

  A wave of dizziness threatened to take her back down on her knees, but Silva was determined to get to her feet. Kalinda was important to the magical world but not so much in the Fae world, outside of her connection to Silva. That would be worth falling all over themselves for. If they’d been in the Fae world, though, Kalinda would have been at the right hand of Silva in the throne room, their positions essentially reversed and Kalinda’s connection to her protecting her from outside attack.

  But they were in Encantado, somewhere Unseelie never should have fucking been.

  She swayed, but at least she’d made it to standing without keeling over.

  Score!

  But where was Kalinda?

  A glowing sheet of paper rested on Kalinda’s destroyed desk, and Silva wanted to burn it to cinders. She knew without even reading what it said; it was from the Unseelie Fae.

  Fucking bloodsuckers.

  No, really. Daywalkers came from the Unseelie as mages came from the Seelie. It was a little-known fact—one Silva wouldn’t be sharing with anyone. While she let the Lombardi in on a bit of Fae lore, some of the information was secret for a reason.

  If daywalkers realized their gift was from the Fae and there were other applications of their feeding gift—as the Unseelie did already—things would go to shit.

  One of them being the slip of p
archment resting on Kalinda’s desk. It was a way to sap Fae energy from another to ensure the information was seared in the intended’s brain before it disintegrated. It was a rather nice way to also kill one, if set with a trap.

  Silva had no doubt the parchment set out by Kieran would both feed from her and fuck her world up, especially how weak she was.

  “Then that’s the last resort.”

  But searching the room as painstakingly slow as she could move without puking turned up nothing. Of course, she already knew that. She sighed and approached the glowing paper.

  “He’s so fucking dead. I swear by The Fates.”

  The Fates gave no sign they’d heard her, and she wasn’t so sure those mythical controllers of time still favored the Fae anymore, but she prayed anyway. The document was blank as her hands hovered over it, and she bit her lip.

  “You’re really going to make me touch this.”

  The last thing she remembered was enough fire to sap all the oxygen out the room, and Kalinda’s screams melding with her own. She had no doubt Kieran wanted something from Silva, and that’s the only reason Kalinda was still alive—for now.

  “Can’t get shit from me if I’m dead though.”

  It wasn’t a comfort, but she had to make herself believe. Had to trust she wouldn’t face the end and leave the Lombardi without Kalinda.

  As much as she picked at the wolves, they’d become family in a short time. Watching Zoey and Kalinda with their mates, the way the pack was together as one unit, was so different than her court.

  That was paved with blood and intrigue, like any other place, but the ones most ready to stab you in the back were family. Whole houses rose and fell for the chance to gain power. Silva had been … no different.

  She sucked in a breath, not wanting to think of everything she’d lost.

  The sister she’d never see again.

  Silva had been stupid … so stupid, and time in the human world without memories made the hurt brand-new.

  To escape the emotional pain of her memories, she grasped the zethper—finally calling it by name.

  Cold spread through her, rolling over her flesh and leaving numbness behind. It was better than the pain, better than struggling for air. But as it reached her diaphragm, she realized she spoke too soon. It wasn’t numbing; it was paralyzing!

  She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs wouldn’t inflate, and she crumpled to the ground.

  Come to Scorched Earth, where I have your ward. But come soon, and alone. She won’t survive if you don’t.

  The power of the zethper kept her bound, winding around her windpipe and seizing until she flopped on the floor, a fish out of water. Every cell inside her strained for oxygen, to live. The urge to claw at her throat, at the invisible hand holding her in a vise grip battered at her brain, but she couldn’t fucking move.

  It’s a sick feeling when the head is there, the soul is screaming, but the body slowly fades away.

  Live, Silva. For Kalinda.

  Suddenly, the lights faded, the world shrank, and she was hovering above herself.

  You look like shit, Silva. Total shit.

  And she did. Her wings were nothing but gnarled and twisted stumps out her back, her sundress was in tatters, showing blackened skin everywhere. Even her lips were blue from lack of air, and her eyes were bloodshot.

  Not yet.

  She—well, spirit her, because physically, she was screwed—flipped over and a bright white light glittered.

  I’m not ready to die, thank you. No crossing over the rainbow bridge and frolicking in the tulips for me, thank you.

  When did you begin to speak as such?

  Her heart stuttered. That voice. Asherah?

  Merry met, sister mine.

  The joy of hearing that voice was splintered against the knowledge it was in the spirit realm. I’m sorry I didn’t find you in time.

  There is found, then there is found.

  You speak in riddles still.

  I … cannot stay long. It is hard to hold this. But it is not over.

  I’m sorry. For everything.

  Forgiveness was given long ago. It is nigh time the Queen step forward. May your days be long, sister.

  She didn’t get a chance to respond. The light slammed into her, forcing her back into agony and fire. She screamed, her cells opening to depleted oxygen, her skin sizzling as the burns faded enough to move.

  One day, I shall hold you close once more. One day.

  Her sister’s parting words were all that was left of the connection before Silva opened her eyes once more. She was back on the ground, but a subtle flutter grabbed her attention. Her wings. They were healed. She may not be back to heavy hitter, but at least they’d carry her to where she needed to go.

  Forcing herself up on her knees, she slapped them open and sped out the door.

  Wait for me, Kalinda.

  By the time Silva reached the edges of Lombardi Pack lands she could barely see straight.

  A wolf called to her in greeting, used to seeing her travel this way with Kalinda if they wanted to get home faster. This time, she didn’t stop; she couldn’t afford to. The only wolf she was concerned with was Romano. If she could make it to him, he’d get the troops ready. She may not be able to choose to bring others with her, as directed by the zethper, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t.

  And she needed help to heal. There was no way she could kick ass when she was still ready to keel over.

  Romano’s home was within sight, and she forced herself to slow down enough for as easy a landing she could muster.

  “Romano!”

  Her holler was made stronger by what meager power she had left. And the wolf, Fates save the bastard, ran out of his home, searching for her. Without any grace, she fell into his arms.

  “Nice catch.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Right to business. My sort of man. We need Zahara.”

  “I’ll get her … where is Kalinda?”

  Silva swallowed. “Taken.”

  Three seconds. He was still for three whole seconds before he tucked her closer to his chest and ran. His harsh grip stung her burned flesh, but she didn’t complain. This was Kalinda’s mate, and Silva had failed him. He deserved his pound of flesh, no matter how he took it.

  Romano moved fast enough he had to slide to a stop in front of Dominic’s home before bounding up the stairs.

  “Alpha!”

  There was bellowing and scampering claws. Zoey hollered something about not a good time, but Romano wouldn’t be deterred.

  “It’s Kalinda!”

  The front door swung open, and Silva got a full view of Dominic’s broad shoulders and bare chest before she caught the tail end of a decidedly naked Zoey ducking through a door.

  “What is it?”

  “Kalinda has been taken.”

  The world turned into a bunch of too-fast questions, calls for Zahara, and Silva finding herself laid out on a chaise in the main living room with Zoey running her fingers through Silva’s hair.

  “You’re so burned.”

  Zoey’s tearful observation made Silva’s throat thick with sadness. “It was worse, but I was able to heal a bit to get here. Doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.”

  Zoey’s look told Silva she didn’t believe her but she didn’t argue out loud.

  “Zahara is on her way.”

  Silva forced herself to turn her head and face Romano. He looked how she felt: out of sorts, his hair standing on end, and ready to kill the nearest thing he was directed at.

  She could get behind all of that.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve never backed down from a fight. If you look like this, it had to be bad. Who took her?”

  Silva took a deep breath. This was going to fucking suck. “And Unseelie Fae named Kieran of the Shadow.”

  “Come again?”

  She explained as best she could about what happened. At the mention of the w
olves, Dominic grabbed his phone and dialed quickly.

  “It has to be The Renegades. Pasquale should recognize their scent if they are the same ones who killed Heath.”

  “Heath’s dead?”

  The world was going to fucking shit. And Kalinda was not going to be happy to find out this information.

  “We believe so, and there were wolves involved. If these are the same wolves, this is personal. They are attacking the pack.”

  “I think I may be the reason.”

  Dominic stated at her. “Explain.”

  “The Unseelie and Seelie have never seen eye to eye. They are the dark Fae, for lack of a better word, always prone to cruelty and destruction. I can’t ignore this is happening after I came into my power, or the fact he wants me to go there alone to get Kalinda.”

  “All this to take you out?”

  Silva shrugged … and hissed. That hurt. “I’m not just a Fae, remember? It could be more to do with my ruling House. But I can’t be sure. Nothing is certain with the Unseelie. It could be on a fucking whim, and you all just got away.”

  “Some whim.”

  “Court intrigue where I’m from is deadly.”

  Dominic took that information and answered the door when someone knocked. Zahara breezed in, her face paint bright white against her skin. Thanks to Kalinda, Silva knew just who Rihanna was, and she was struck as how much the witch doctor looked like the celebrity. Even weirder when she realized she was Dominic’s grandmother and probably just younger than Silva.

  “I thought it was the baby, but I see it’s the Fae chile. What you go and do to yourself, yeah?”

  “Got my ass kicked.”

  Zahara snorted. “Understatement.” But then she froze. “Fae.”

  Silva frowned. “Um, yeah. But you knew that.”

  “Not you, silly girl. The magic on you. Dark fire burned you.”

  Ah. The witch doctor knew way too much. “Yes.”

  Seeming to take her cue not to say anything more, Zahara approached Silva. “Zoey, I need you out of here. Can’t have anything rebounding to the baby.”