Ascension (Facets of Feyrie Book 2)

by Zoe Parker

  I ignore his bossy ass.

  Instead, I watch Adrian closely. He dismisses Auryn and his gaze moves on. He’ll ignore me because in his eyes I’m the weakest of the group and to fight the weakest makes him look weak. She is a woman and I’m pretty sure Adrian is a bit of a sexist. Licar is big and bulky, Adriem just a bit smaller.

  Phobe is closer to him height-wise, but smaller weight-wise, not because Adrian has abs for days either, because he doesn’t. Adrian’s little belly tells me he has a sweet tooth.

  As I thought, Adrian’s eyes stop on Phobe. Honestly, he might have survived one of the others. He won’t survive Phobe.

  “Him, the blond-haired elf.” At Adrian’s words, Phobe steps forward, his bare feet soundless.

  Auryn cackles in glee, her mandibles clacking together as she pulls Licar and Adriem closer to me.

  “What the fuck was that?” Adrian questions, his face half-changed. His features melt back into those of a human. Auryn’s cackle can creep out even the stoutest heart, makes me want to laugh along with her.

  “Okay, the rules. You lose, and you willingly ally with us and remain your Alpha whatever bullshit title you have. You win… well, you won’t win but carry on.” Smiling as I talk, I turn to Phobe and blow a kiss at him. The smile he surprisingly directs at me shows the glinting of his sharp teeth.

  “That is not an elf,” Larry the king of the peanut gallery, says in shock as Phobe, eyes flaming, looks dead at him.

  Ha, he let his glamour drop a little. That’s hilarious.

  ‘My, what big teeth you have, Mr. Wolf.’ I smile at my own silly words.

  ‘The better to eat you with, my dear,’ he responds.

  I laugh out loud I can’t help myself. It earns me a bunch of strange looks, but I don’t care.

  “This is Phobe,” I introduce, laughter still in my voice.

  “His name changes nothing. He will still lose.” Adrian says in a cool, dismissive voice.

  He peels off his shirt and starts his arduous change again. He changes into more of an animal than most of the other shifters that I’ve seen. Explains why he’s top kitty, among the shifters anyhow. A Feyrie would tease him for his kitty face and little claws.

  I sit down at the booth to watch, wishing I had some nachos or something. I don’t know what it is but every time I’m watching something interesting I want to snack.

  The first shifter I met days before comes to sit across from me.

  “You look very pleased,” he says after a moment of staring at me.

  “Phobe’s kinda hot, can’t help myself.”

  “I never thought to see the day I met a woman turned on by monsters,” he says.

  Shifters don’t think much of themselves, do they? I lean closer to him. He isn’t insulting me, not in the way he thinks.

  “Monsters do it better,” I whisper, then turn back to Adrian warily circling Phobe, who is standing still as a statue watching him.

  There are more here watching now. I let my glamour fall back around me, snoopy bastards. Jameson comes strolling up the stairs like he owns the place. He’s not supposed to be here, but I smile at him and wave him over anyhow. He slides in the booth beside me and takes a drink of my soda. The face he makes is priceless.

  “How do you drink that shit?” he questions looking inquiringly at the shifter across from me. “Why is that idiot fighting Phobe?”

  “They don’t believe anything I’m telling them, so we challenged them to a dual or whatever it’s called.”

  “What the hell made him pick Phobe? He had a better chance with the big guy.”

  “He went for the medium one.”

  “That was a mistake,” he says, signaling the waitress like there weren’t two men getting ready to fight two feet away.

  “He could’ve challenged me,” I say.

  Jameson snorts. “Phobe would’ve killed him had you accepted.”

  I can’t argue with him. I’m suspicious he’s right.

  “You really think that skinny guy can beat my Alpha?”

  I nod at the shifter’s question.

  Phobe is just toying with Adrian right now. For some reason he’s pissy with the shifter, which means he’s enjoying the idiot’s pain.

  “What’s your name?” I ask the man across from me.

  “David.”

  “Nice to meet you, David.” I hold my hand out and wait for him to shake it, which he does. “You seem to be smarter than most of them.”

  He shrugs. “Adrian is the smarter one, but he’s got an ego the size of Texas. We were the first pack to break the hold of the vampires, so he has a right to be a little cocky.”

  I still think David is the smarter one; he feels smarter. Why isn’t he the Alpha? So, I ask him.

  “Adrian is my older brother,” he answers.

  Oh, that’s it. Brotherly love and all that business. At least Adrian has someone with brains close to him—wait.

  “Were you the one who cooked up the word game?”

  “Yeah, that was me. Sorry about that.” His eyes are full of worry when he watches Phobe. “Why do I get the feeling that fellow is just playing with my brother?”

  Because he is.

  “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to kill him,” I attempt to reassure him.

  I go to pat David’s hand and Larry yells, “Why don’t we kill the bitch and end it now?” Then I hear a very distinct pop.

  Something with the impact of a small truck hits me in the chest knocking me sideways into the booth. Pain fills me as my body fights to heal the wound, but something is stopping it.

  Distantly I hear a roar that raises the hair on the back of my neck. Jameson is leaning over me yelling something, but I can’t hear him through the ringing in my ears.

  What the fuck hit me so hard?

  ‘Iza!’ Phobe yells into my head.

  Taking a deep breath, I cough, choking on blood. Well, that didn’t work. Ignoring the yelling and scrambling around me I go inside myself to the object causing me so much pain. I find the offensive piece of metal quickly, just outside of my heart. A Fey-Iron bullet.

  ‘That motherfucker shot me with Fey-Iron.’ I say to Phobe, I figure me answering him will calm him down.

  Which is very important, considering the circumstances.

  His face appears above my own. Peeling my shirt up, he looks at the small bleeding hole right above my bra. Letting the claws on his first finger and thumb lengthen into precise points, he steadily begins to dig the bullet out. Gritting my teeth, I curse vehemently.

  It hurts like a sonofabitch.

  He drops it in the table with a ‘tink’ noise, and with fiery globes of fury watches the hole close. Putting his face directly in mine, he says out loud, “If you want to save them call their marks, Iza.” He adds in my head, ‘Or I will kill them all.’

  He means it, too.

  He kisses me, his lips are hard and bruising and angry. Then he straightens and vanishes.

  Sitting up I look around me. The Nightmares encircle me protectively backs to me, eyes forward, along with a few unknown Feyrie. The shifters circle them uneasily. Poor David is sitting there white-faced. Looking at the blood spattered over my neck and chest, my own temper burns in my belly.

  Sticking my hand out for Jameson to pull me to my feet, I pull off my shirt and toss it to the Fiend that appears out of thin air and disappears with it.

  I liked that shirt.

  Surveying the damage around me, I see that the table is broken—glass strewn everywhere. The fabric of the seats is stained with my blood. I imagine that the glass is what my body is pushing out of my back. The seat smolders and I smell Jameson’s Magiks.

  He’s smart, I’ll give him that.

  Focusing on my anger I dig my claws into my palms to bring my temper to a manageable level. I offered them peace, offered them a choice that myself and many others didn’t have. I was diplomatic and flipping nice.

  My nostrils flare.

  “
Is she okay?” a bloody Adrian asks from outside my ring of protectors.

  “Jameson why are you here?” I ask, my eyes on Adrian.

  “I figured I’d come help out.” He pulls off his shirt and hands it to me. Eyeing the pink alligator on it, I slip it on.

  Turning my full attention to Adrian I walk towards him. My Feyrie part for me to walk through them.

  “Did your homework on Feyrie, eh, Adrian?” I ask.

  “My sources say we outnumber them five to one, Adrian,” Larry yells from across the room. It’s followed by his yelp of pain.

  Phobe has a hold of him now.

  “My sources say that’s not enough, not nearly enough. The Feyrie in this room can kill every… single… one… of… you.” I smile calmly.

  I’m anything but.

  Phobe’s fury is feeding my own, feeding that darkness inside of me.

  “Wow, you really pissed him off. I’m going to go get a drink. These are new shoes and I don’t want to get blood on them,” Jameson says, pausing long enough to kiss me on the cheek. “Have fun, Iza.”

  “The elf bitch told me you were nothing more than a whore!” Larry hisses from under Phobe’s foot on the floor.

  I feel Phobe’s fury reach its peak. Grabbing Larry’s arm, he dangles him in the air, crossing the room with Larry in tow he stops in front of Adrian.

  I step back.

  Without any visible effort, he calmly rips the writhing man in half, tossing both halves at Adrian. Eyes on fire, he looks at Adrian’s gore covered face and smiles a predator’s smile.

  Yeah, that’s the last time I’m nice. I tried to respect their freedom, their beliefs, and the motherfuckers shot me for it.

  “Was that planned by you, Adrian?” I ask, stepping around what’s left of Larry. The Fiends are snacking a bit.

  Adrian shakes his head, looking nervous for the very first time since I got here. “Lawrence brought a woman here, a witch—and she said that the bullets will kill an elf. I ordered them to be left at the den house. He apparently didn’t listen to me.”

  I nod along as he speaks but my decision has been made.

  “I called you here… to our home. Yes, OUR home. We all worked hard to get here to have some freedom for the first time in our lives. Yet you never once considered that.” I poke a black claw into his bare, gore- covered chest. “You claim you’re top of the food chain? I’ll show you top of the food chain, fuck head.”

  My eyes take in all the shifters with dormant marks. “I did it your way, now you’re going to do it mine.” With those words I let my Magiks loose.

  With my inner eyes I seek out the dormant mark connecting me to Adrian and through him every shifter he is connected to.

  “Now, kitty cat, you’re all mine.”

  Pulling on the Magiks inside of me, I awaken his Mark. I watch him open his mouth in shock, hear the gasps from him and all of those present that are connected to him. Their marks flare to life, solidly tying them to the Dark, to me. In seconds, I touch them all, every single shifter now connected to me.

  Adrian is now staring at me with a dumbfounded look.

  “Now I need a shirt that doesn’t have a pink alligator on it.”

  It appears out of thin air, compliments of the goblins who decided to join the party.

  Thanking them, I promptly pull off the one I’m wearing and throw it over the railing towards Jameson. It smacks him in the head and he looks around, a little lost.

  Feeling a bunch of gazes on me, I pan my gaze around the room. I know it’s not because of the nudity. There isn’t a creature here weird about it, except Jameson.

  “What?”

  “Your scars.” Adrian supplies.

  Frowning, I look down. What’s the big deal? “Did you think I’m some pampered princess sneaking out of the castle for the first time? That maybe I came to play fetch?”

  These idiots have no idea what I’ve gone through. I pull the clean shirt on. They can suck it, too.

  “Things could’ve turned out better for you.” I look at him, expecting to see anger or accusation. Instead I see awe, confusion, then resolve and acceptance cross his face.

  “We respect strength—we honor it. This bond with you gives us something we’ve never had before… complete immunity from vampire control.”

  Well, that’s nice. And something I need to look into. I had no idea that vampires could control them.

  “So, you’re not going to rant shit about me being a dictator?”

  He shakes his head. “We can feel you inside of us.” He looks around him, sensing the Fiends for the first time. “We never outnumbered you here, did we?”

  I shake my head. The Fiends were here the entire time. So were the Forlorn, although I can’t sense them. Mine and Phobe’s hidden weapons, and a force to be reckoned with all on their own.

  Not to mention the Nightmares and Phobe. Hell, I think Phobe could take on everyone here… probably even the Nightmares.

  Speak of the devil. Phobe grabs me and hauls me to a darkened corner away from everyone. I shiver as his glamour falls around us. Shoving me against the wall, he kisses me until I’m breathless.

  ‘What’s that for?’

  His answer is to kiss me slowly, languidly.

  Pulling away, he rests his forehead against mine.

  ‘I was going to kill them all.’

  I sigh.

  ‘I know.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  Phobe

  That easily, she acts as if she was not shot mere minutes ago by metal fatal to Feyrie. It is just another day to her.

  That is something I find charming about her, the ability to move forward. But she did get shot and bleed all over, and it hurt her more than she admits. This is why I am keeping my mouth shut about her drink.

  Jameson is watching her drink it with deviousness in his gaze. My payback for her letting it drag on until they hurt her, is my silence. He slipped some Fey Li’quer into her soda. The bitterness covers up the Li’quer taste. This is her second one. Sneaky bastard. Normally I might do or say something about it, not this time.

  The stuff is so potent it is already affecting her. Her speech is slightly slurred, her laughter coming easier as she listens to Adriem’s stories.

  Adrian, the former Alpha, is silently watching her. I let my eyes rest on him a moment. He is thinking things that make me want to smash his face into the floor. Which I might still do before the end of the night.

  He has wanted her since she said the first cocky words to him. Shifters are attracted to power and she is the epitome of it. I do not dislike him for his attraction; it is for his willingness to hurt her, even though he wanted her. All for his ego.

  Right now, he is plotting how to have her. He does not care if she has a mate, or even an interest in him. I wonder how long before I remind him he is not in the shifter world anymore.

  Iza is not capable of sharing herself so carelessly.

  She staggers to her feet and grabs my hand. “We’re so dancing,” she slurs.

  Everyone at the table stands. She wobbles her way to the dance floor with all of us in tow. Slipping through the throng of people, she stops next to the DJ, who in turn notices her presence and turns the music up. With a smile directed at her, he eyes the crowd for a threat. That is interesting.

  There are still threats here. She pulled the dormant marks of the shifters but there are other half-breeds and even Feyrie hiding. Those Feyrie are unknown and not all will be loyal.

  “I’ve never danced with a person before,” she whispers drunkenly.

  Then she proceeds to grind her pelvis against my leg. Stunned, I stand there and watch her. Watch her move her hips back and forth and then find her rhythm. It is so bloody sexy I can only watch with pure male appreciation.

  The song comes to an end and she stops moving, and I find myself slightly disappointed.

  “Oh my god, that was fun. Can we dance more?”

  The DJ, hearing her, starts another song. This
one is peppier and less hip swaying, but it is still interesting to watch her dance.

  I simply stand there and stare at her. She is moving her head side to side, hopping around in circles. I like the effect this music has on her.

  A chill runs down my spine. Tense, alert, I find Licar’s eyes on me. I move closer to her, signaling him with a jerk of my head.

  There are more vampires in the club now. Vampires are predominantly Light Fey. I will not allow her to be hurt again tonight. To distract her, I pull her into my embrace while also blocking her from the view of others.

  A slower song comes on and the drunken Iza, who would never slow dance sober, does. If you call her snuggling up to me and giggling slow dancing. There was a time when this kind of moment with her would make me uncomfortable, and in some ways, it still does.

  But not enough for me to stop it.

  Allowing myself a look at her, I see the frown on her face. She is a suspicious little thing. The smile she is wearing lets me know she is aware of the threat here. My chest tightens.

  How did I exist without her? She gives my world color, life. Iza is all over the place and I like chasing her there.

  Suddenly she stops moving. Every single Feyrie connected to her stops as well. Even the shifters. Half the club now stands stock-still watching her, waiting. She is watching something over my shoulder with so much focus, she is not paying attention to anything else.

  Turning to look, I spot a vampire feeding in the corner, on one of the younger human women in the club. He is doing it carelessly, unfazed by the innocence shining from her.

  My shadows feel around, carefully.

  There are at least fifteen vampires in the club now. Some of them are old, powerful. The one feeding is neither. A small group of them hedge nearer to us, their leader is one of the old ones—most likely three or four centuries old. A rarity here in this realm. Most do not live to see one hundred. Vampires have a habit of killing their own.

  Without saying a word, Iza starts walking towards the feeding vampire. Licar and I step in behind her, Auryn and Adriem at our sides.

  The older vampire pauses and watches Iza. He is surprisingly Dark. The other I can feel, but not see, is as well. But they are protected from my intrusion. Vampires this old can protect themselves from mind reading for a time.