All he could detect was that there was two of them, and they were not the presence he had sensed in the room with Anais.
These two were strong, but far weaker than the one he had felt.
A tall male with blue-black hair and obsidian armour that hugged his lithe figure stopped directly in front of Loke’s cell and glared at the ceiling. The alarms ceased and the lights stopped flashing. It was the male’s doing.
An elf.
A powerful one too.
The male turned violet eyes on Loke, a curious but disappointed flicker in them, and then moved on. Who was the male searching for?
The answer became apparent when he stopped to the right of Loke.
“Hartt!” Harbin’s voice rang through the wall and the elf looked thoroughly annoyed.
“What the Devil made you toss yourself into this predicament?” The male called Hartt moved towards the glass of Harbin’s cell.
Loke became slowly aware that someone was staring at him and he shifted his gaze to the male standing in the corridor in front of him.
Another elf.
But this one had darkness in his eyes.
They were jet black.
The male curled his lip at Loke, flashing a hint of fang, and produced a cloth from the air. He wiped his long black blade on it, his gaze on Loke the whole time, leaving him feeling that the male wanted to kill him as he had slain the guards. Loke had seen many males with that same darkness in their eyes during his lifetime, that same hunger for bloodshed, violence and death. This male didn’t care who his foe was or whether they were his foe at all. He craved death and he fed that hunger, making it grow more voracious.
The elves had a name for those who succumbed to the darkness.
They called them tainted.
The male standing before him looked more than merely tainted to Loke.
He looked dangerous, crazed, and consumed by the darkness. It ruled him.
“Fuery, get your backside in gear and deal with those guards.” Hartt pointed towards the end of the corridor they had entered through.
The one called Fuery smiled, a glimmer of joy in his black eyes as he turned to face his new opponents and beckoned them with a crook of his armoured clawed finger. His pointed ears flared back against his overlong blue-black hair that was drawn back to reveal them, the top half of his hair tied into a small ponytail with a silver clasp and the rest allowed to brush his neck. He bared his fangs at his enemies and disappeared in a flash.
Hartt watched him go, his expression emotionless but holding a touch of wariness, as if he regretted what they were doing.
Butchering creatures far weaker than they were.
“Stand back.” Hartt twisted a small black device that Loke couldn’t quite see and it looked as if he pressed it to the glass front of Harbin’s cell. The elf male turned violet eyes on Loke. “I suggest you move back too.”
Loke mustered his strength and shuffled back to a safer distance. The moment he was nearing the back of his cell, Hartt sprinted down the corridor towards where Fuery was fighting.
A bright violet flash blinded Loke and a violent explosion deafened him, making his ears ring as it rocked his cell.
The glass barrier fractured, deep splinters racing across the surface of it. The glass that had contained Harbin completely exploded, raining down in the corridor, and the male growled and muttered several ripe curses.
Hartt appeared back in view and glanced at Loke. “I suggest you escape this place.”
A suggestion that Loke was going to take, just as soon as he had rested enough to regain the necessary strength to shatter the glass wall and actually make it out of the complex alive.
“Desist!” A deep commanding voice caused Hartt to turn wide violet eyes on the end of the corridor where Fuery had been fighting.
Fuery who was suddenly beside Hartt, a similarly stunned expression on his face. It lasted only a second before he looked ready to take on this new foe. Loke wasn’t sure that was a wise decision. Whoever this new male was, he was far more powerful than the two elves combined.
Hartt knew it. Loke could see it in his eyes. He wanted to follow that command and halt the attack.
“Take the dragon.” Harbin’s voice sounded in the corridor and Hartt looked at him.
“I cannot teleport three. I am sorry.” Hartt lowered his gaze to his feet, a regretful edge to his expression, and then drew in a deep breath and burst into action.
Loke had a brief glimpse of a silver-haired male with equally silver eyes as Hartt grabbed Harbin with one hand and caught hold of Fuery with the other.
The elf teleported both of them in a flash of silver-violet light.
The male who had issued the command appeared in view, a black look on his noble face, his violet eyes narrowed in displeasure. His pointed ears flared against the sides of his head through his neat blue-black hair as he bared his fangs. Another elf.
Loke knew this one.
Prince Loren.
The elf prince huffed, looked back along the corridor and raised his hand in a sort of signal. Who was he beckoning?
More elves?
Loke growled at the male and lumbered onto his feet, preparing to fight him. They had been at war in the Third Realm and if the male had come to finish what had been started there, Loke would teach him that an elf was no match for a dragon. He swayed and pressed his hand to the wall, determined to overcome the weakness battering him and threatening to send him plunging into the waiting arms of darkness.
And death.
He roared and hurled himself at the glass, smashing his fists against it in an effort to break it. He would take down the elf and flee. He would find the portal that Harbin had spoken of.
He would be free.
Anais suddenly sprinted into view, her thick boots crunching on the glass sprayed across the corridor. His fists instantly stilled against the glass as he took in the sight of her and weathered the rush of emotions that blasted through him.
She was unharmed.
She smiled at him, her blue eyes bright with it and with hope.
“It’s time to go,” she said.
The last of his strength and his fight drained from him on seeing that she was safe and hearing that she had come for him. He tried to hold on for her, clinging to consciousness, but the effect of being in the mortal realm had reached its crescendo and he was too close to the endless black abyss of death.
He pressed his hand to the fractured glass, wishing he could touch her and know the warmth and softness of her skin.
She placed her hand to the glass on the other side and her smile widened, the affection in it flooding him with heat.
His beautiful mate.
It was the last thought he had before the darkness consumed him again, plunging him into a nightmarish vision.
The inky black parted to reveal an unfamiliar interior of a building with several thick columns supporting a high ceiling. The walls were painted in tones of darkness and colourful orbs of light barely chased back the gloom.
Anais stood before him, near a high and broad black bench, but she wasn’t alone.
The shadowy male loomed over her.
His eyes glowed brightly, fixed on Loke where he stood bearing witness to it all, unable to do anything but watch as Anais turned towards the male and her fear flooded the room.
Loke reached for her.
The male raised vicious talons to strike her down.
CHAPTER 23
The prince of elves had teleported into the room shortly after the angel had left it. Anais had met him before in Hell, and Sable had called on him using the band around her wrist, but his sudden appearance had still startled her and she had launched herself forwards to attack him and protect Sable, barely stopping herself from striking him.
That had drawn a very unimpressed look from the handsome man until Sable had explained everything that had happened.
Her explanation had made Thorne grow larger and growl something in the dem
on tongue, his eyes burning crimson and his leathery wings shifting restlessly against his back. Loren had spoken to the larger male in the same language. When Sable had pressed them to speak in English, neither male had looked inclined to agree and both had kept their conversation to themselves.
Anais suspected it had something to do with the angel who had appeared and tried to take Sable with him.
Because apparently she was part angel.
That had definitely shocked Anais and she knew it had shocked Emelia too. Sable’s status as half-angel wasn’t the only reason Emelia had to feel shocked though. The male angel had made it clear he was interested in her. Anais had been around long enough to know how men operated and it seemed angels were just like all the rest of them. He wanted to slay the dragon for Emelia, and there was only one reason he would want to do such a thing and it wasn’t because he was amazingly magnanimous.
He desired Emelia.
Anais could understand why that had made Emelia withdraw into herself. Since returning, she had discovered that Emelia had been held by Zephyr.
She was the huntress he had broken.
Sable had used the communication system in the room to call in what had happened and a very kind looking woman in a suit had come to take Emelia away. Anais could only hope that Archangel only had Emelia’s health in mind and that they weren’t about to use her to get their hands on an angel, not as Anais felt they had used her to get their hands on a dragon.
“I have to go.” Anais started for the door but Sable caught her wrist, holding her back.
“We have to go. You think I’m going to owe an elf prince for nothing, think again. I brought him here to help us and he’s going to help us. Aren’t you, Loren?” Sable looked from Anais to the black-haired elegant male.
He sighed and preened his hair back, revealing the pointed tips of his ears. “I came to help and I intend to fulfil that duty, but I cannot see how it will be easy to remove the dragon from his cell unnoticed. Archangel will know that you had some part in his escape. Both of you.”
Anais shrugged. “Archangel can go fuck themselves. I’m getting Loke out of here, before it’s too late.”
Loren nodded. “He is not doing well?”
“Understatement of your long life,” Anais said and tried not to think about what state she would find Loke in when they made it down to the cellblock. “I’m worried he isn’t going to make it.”
“He’s going to make it.” Sable clapped a hand down on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Loren stared up at the ceiling and Anais was about to ask what he was doing when the room went dark. A hand caught her wrist, cold against her skin, the grip too strong to be Sable, and then ice blasted across her and she shivered and tried to pull away.
“Do not.” Loren’s deep voice sounded in the pitch-darkness and she realised he was teleporting her.
She immediately grabbed his arm, locking onto it as fear swept through her, adding to the iciness in her veins. She didn’t want to end up in some random place in Hell and she had learned that would happen if she let go of an elf mid-teleport.
Her feet struck something solid and Loren held her steady as her knees gave out, keeping her upright.
It was still dark. Were they still teleporting?
“You had to kill all the lights?” Sable’s voice held a reprimanding note and Anais heard Thorne grunt in agreement. “We might have ended up in a wall or something!”
Loren made a small clicking noise of irritation. “Thorne knows the layout of the building well enough to avoid such a thing.”
Anais wanted to agree with Sable but she held her tongue. She wasn’t sure how Loren expected them to walk around when they couldn’t see where they were going. Unlike him and Thorne, she and Sable didn’t have incredible night vision.
Red lights chased the darkness back, flashing across her eyes, and the alarm sounded again.
“Another intruder?” Sable said as the lights darted over her face, allowing Anais to pinpoint her in the darkness. The touch of fear that had been in her voice and was in her eyes too told Anais that she was afraid that the angel had returned already.
If he had, he was going to have a fight on his hands. Anais wouldn’t let the bastard take Sable from Thorne.
Loren’s handsome face darkened. “Elves.”
“Elves? Is it Bleu?” Sable looked hopeful now, but wary, and after everything she had witnessed in the Third Realm, Anais could understand why being around the elf who had wanted her for his own unsettled her.
Loren shook his head. “I am not familiar with these elves.”
“Where are they?” Anais said and Loren shifted his violet gaze to her. It looked a strange colour in the murky red flashing light.
“Beneath us. I would estimate they are in the cellblock and would suggest we move swiftly, because I can smell blood.”
Anais began running at the same time as Sable, thundering along the corridor and then down the steps towards the cellblock. Sable had her blade at the ready and Anais drew hers, clutching it tightly as she tried to steel herself for what might lay ahead of her. Her heart beat hard against her chest, growing faster as they approached the cellblock.
The overhead lights were still on in the lowest level.
Anais almost slowed as the red lights stopped flashing and the alarm ceased.
She did slow when a huge explosion rocked the corridor, sending her stumbling backwards and drawing her focus to what lay ahead of her.
Sable stopped and stared at it, her lips parted and golden eyes wide. Anais covered her mouth and swallowed hard. Whoever had invaded Archangel this time, they had swept through the guards with ease. Most of the fallen hadn’t even had a chance to draw their weapons. They were still sheathed against their bloodied bodies. Crimson drenched the floor and splattered across the white walls, rolling down it in places.
Loren appeared in front of them and pushed them both backwards, and Thorne’s hands clamped down on them, grabbing Anais’s right shoulder and Sable’s left.
“Keep back,” Loren said and looked over his shoulder towards the dead hunters and the grim red corridor.
Anais looked beyond him and saw the reason he had stopped them.
Two males stood in the corridor ahead of them. The one closest to them had black eyes and blood all over his obsidian armour, his sword still stuck in the belly of a dead hunter. The one at the back stood in a pile of glass, swirls of smoke curling around him, his focus on whoever he was breaking out of Archangel’s cells.
The cell that was right next to Loke’s one.
Her heart started at a rapid pace again.
“Desist,” Loren shouted and both elves looked at him.
The darkest one backed towards his companion, his shock on seeing Loren quickly subsiding, replaced by a hunger to attack him. The one with violet eyes didn’t give him the chance. He grabbed him and a silver-haired male, and teleported in a blinding flash of light.
Loren growled and raced forwards, nimbly leaping over the fallen hunters. He stopped in front of Loke’s cell and her heart leaped as she heard Loke roar and the blows of his fists against the glass. She moved as swiftly as she could, not looking down as she picked her way through the dead. Right now, she had to focus on the living.
She reached Loke’s cell and he stopped striking the glass and stared at her. He was too pale, his skin milk-white in the stark light. The darkness around his eyes and the obvious difficulty he had standing warned her that he was losing his fight against whatever prevented him from being in the mortal world.
“It’s time to go,” she said and he pressed his hand to the glass.
She placed hers over it on the other side of the barrier and gasped as he passed out, collapsing in a heap on the ground.
Loren shoved her back with one hand as his black armour covered his other fist. He snarled and launched a punch at the cracked glass. It shattered under the force of his blow and he grunted as he staggered back and shook his hand, pain
contorting his face and darkening his violet eyes.
“Thank you.” She raced forwards again and he shook his head.
“Thank me later, when he is actually safe. I do not think we have much time.” Loren stepped over the remains of the glass barrier and she followed him into the cell, her gaze on Loke where he lay out cold on the white floor.
She kneeled beside him and reached out to touch him.
He jerked awake and snarled at her, flashing twin rows of sharp white teeth. His eyes blazed bright aquamarine as he lashed out at her. She darted back to avoid the blow and tried to reach him again, not blaming him for defending himself. He didn’t seem aware of where he was or what he was doing.
“Instinct is a dangerous thing sometimes.” Loren dropped to his knees on the other side of Loke and tried to grab hold of him.
Loke growled and attacked him, landing futile blows on Loren’s black armour, his claws raking over the small scales but leaving no marks behind.
Anais sat with her heart in her mouth as Loke fought the elf, agreeing with Loren that instincts were dangerous things, because her every instinct said to intervene and stop Loren from hurting Loke and driving him mad with a need to defend and protect himself.
Instinct told her to protect him and soothe him.
She reached out to do just that.
Loke launched his left hand at her and she gasped as fiery lines cut across her right upper arm in the wake of his claws.
He immediately stilled.
Growled low in his throat.
Turned murderous blue eyes on Loren.
He blamed the elf prince for her bleeding. He was going to attack him again and this time he looked as if he was serious about it.
Anais lunged at Loke, grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them to his bare chest, using all of her weight to press them down. It wasn’t enough. He shoved and she almost flew across the cell, but Loren caught her with one hand and pressed his other one over hers where she still gripped Loke’s wrists.
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