Hunted by a Jaguar

by Felicity Heaton

  A leg emerged from the shadows, clad in black armour, each plate edged with crimson. Another followed it and then a bare arm broke through the darkness, the tendrils clinging to it before dissipating. She could only stare as the immense male finally stepped free of the black smoke, his seven-foot frame rivalling the fallen angel’s but his shoulders far broader and his armour ending at his waist. His broad chest was bare, each powerful honed muscle on display. His arms were as thick as her thighs.

  He turned fierce golden eyes on Kyter where he knelt in the centre of the engraved circle, breathing hard.

  “I was told you were dead,” the demon snarled, his deep voice vibrating through her. His huge smooth black horns curled through his jet hair from behind the tops of his pointed ears, twisting around to flare forwards besides his temples like deadly daggers. He took a hard step forwards, shaking the black platform and growled, revealing his sharp teeth and fangs. “I was told you did not survive birth.”

  Iolanthe had a feeling that he wasn’t glad that Kyter had survived. A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled what the demon in the fae town had told her.

  Barafnir had taken great pains to hide the way of summoning him.

  That way was his blood.

  She looked back at Kyter as he lumbered onto his feet, swaying a little before straightening, and lowered his hand from his side. The wound was gone but the blood remained, staining his skin.

  Blood that had spilled on the dagger and on the circle.

  Blood that had given her the ability to read the language written on the blade.

  Blood that had come from his father.

  Kyter was the key.

  Not the dagger.

  The dagger was the lock, the power within it unleashed by a single drop of Kyter’s blood. Together they had activated the markings on the temple floor and opened the shadowy gate to his father.

  Fernandez recovered first. “I order you to kill these people.”

  Barafnir turned flaming golden eyes on him. “I do not answer to you.”

  The fallen angel snarled and pointed the dagger at him. “I spilled the blood that summoned you. You will do my bidding.”

  The demon didn’t move. He narrowed his gaze on Fernandez and then dropped it to Kyter again.

  “Your hand spilled your own blood. You placed it upon the circle. You have summoned me. Speak your desire.” Barafnir curled his lip, revealing his fangs again, and Fernandez looked ready to throw the dagger at him.

  The demon was telling the truth though. Kyter’s hand had been on the dagger when it had cut his throat, but the fallen angel’s had been too. The demon had been given a choice of masters and he had chosen his son.

  He had chosen death.

  Kyter would use the one order he could issue to have the demon kill himself. He would use it to have his vengeance.

  She looked back at Kyter, her heart pounding at a sickening tempo. Only a demon stood a chance at defeating a fallen angel. She couldn’t let him have his vengeance. They wouldn’t survive another fight with Fernandez and his men.

  Kyter’s golden eyes narrowed on his father.

  Iolanthe shifted to intervene, opening her mouth to tell him to stop.

  He snarled.

  “Kill the angelic bastard who dared to threaten my mate.”

  Her heart stopped.

  Barafnir smirked, pressed his left hand to his chest, and lowered his head.

  “As you wish.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Kyter struggled to keep up with the fight between Fernandez and Barafnir. The demon had disappeared and reappeared behind Fernandez barely a second after accepting Kyter’s order to kill the fallen angel.

  Fernandez’s two assassins had leapt into action and Bleu had gone after the fair-haired sorcerer with a vengeance, his violet eyes flashing with grim determination and his black spear a blur as he had launched his first attack. Iolanthe had gone after the dark-haired male, a vision of deadly grace as she alternated between attacking with her telekinesis and her black blade.

  So far, Kyter had switched between them, moving as swiftly as he could, but his focus had always been split between his fight and his father’s one.

  Barafnir and Fernandez clashed high in the air above him, their huge wings battering each other as they exchanged blows. He wasn’t sure who was winning and he didn’t care. All he wanted was the chance to study his father in action, discover any weak spots the demon had, and then he would set his plan in motion.

  Both Barafnir and Fernandez would die and that was all that mattered to him.

  Iolanthe grunted, seizing his attention, and he raced towards her as she staggered backwards, her right arm still raised to protect herself from the silver katana the dark-haired male wielded. There was something about that weapon that linked it to the male, giving him the ability to inflict pain in any cut the blade made.

  The elf armour his mate wore protected her body, including her hands, but not her head. The male had figured that out and was focusing every attack on her face now, attempting to land a blow that he could use to disable her, keeping her writhing in pain.

  Kyter roared and shifted, his bones quickly snapping and transforming as fur swept over his skin and his tail formed. He leaped free of his clothing as he completed the change, landed in a crouch on the black ground and sprang at the male. The male turned towards him and hastily raised his right arm to shield himself, his pale icy eyes wide and his scent reeking of fear.

  Kyter sank his fangs into the male’s arm, crunching straight through the bone, and snarled as the assassin roared in agony. A deep sense of satisfaction raced through Kyter’s blood. He slammed hard into the male and took him down, pinning him beneath his full weight. The male cried out again as Kyter tightened his grip, tasting blood, and violently shook his head, savaging the male’s arm.

  The male retaliated, bringing his sword around in a deadly arc.

  Iolanthe kicked it from his grip and it clattered across the stone circular base of the temple and struck one of the broken columns.

  It didn’t stop the male from attacking. He rolled with Kyter, fighting to get Kyter beneath him, and Kyter kicked his back legs, slashing with his claws and tearing through the black long sleeve top the male wore. He would gut the bastard if that was what the male wanted.

  The male ripped his arm free of Kyter’s grip, launched to his feet and stumbled across the temple.

  Heading for his sword.

  Kyter rolled onto his paws and sprinted after him, pressed down hard on his last stride and launched through the air in a graceful arc. He landed heavily on the male’s back and growled as he sank his teeth into the nape of his neck, seizing hold of him. The male grunted as he hit the stone flags and Kyter pinned him there. Every dirty look and disgusting thing this male had given and said to Iolanthe came rushing back and he couldn’t stop himself as his instincts rose to the fore, primal and intense, demanding blood.

  He slammed one paw down on the back of the male’s head and clamped his jaws down harder on his neck. Flesh gave beneath his fangs and blood flooded his mouth as the male screamed and writhed, fighting to lift Kyter’s weight off him.

  Kyter tightened his grip and growled as bone crunched and the male stilled, the scent of death swiftly clinging to him.

  He released the body, threw his head back and roared his victory at the dark sky of Hell.

  Above him, Barafnir stopped and looked down, his black-edged-golden gaze brimming with curiosity. Blood rolled down the demon’s broad chest, a mixture of his own and Fernandez’s.

  It would run in a torrent when Kyter was done with him.

  Kyter narrowed his eyes on the demon and growled, baring his fangs. Tendrils of darkness flowed through his muscles and bones, sinking into his veins and his blood. He coaxed and nurtured them, until they spread deeper and wider, filling him, and he knew that his eyes were changing, altering towards the same darkness that had begun to consume his father’s eyes.

  The e
yes of a demon.

  Black as night.

  Gold like fire.

  “Kyter.” Iolanthe’s sweet voice brought him back from the edge and he closed his eyes before she could see what was happening to him.

  She knew he was part demon, but he still wasn’t sure how she would react if she saw how that part affected him. Not only the internal changes and the terrible need for violence it awakened in him. The physical changes too.

  How would she react if she saw his irises were now black and his pupils were little more than gold vertical slits in their centres?

  He snarled as he transformed back and she moved away from him, only to return a moment later. When he opened his eyes, she stood before him, holding his black combat trousers and his boots. He took them from her and pulled them on.

  “Bleu?” he said and looked for the elf male.

  Bleu battled a short distance away, nimbly evading the spells the fair-haired sorcerer cast at him. Kyter went to move in that direction but Iolanthe’s hand on his arm stopped him. He looked back at her, meeting her violet gaze. She squeezed his arm and looked beyond him to her brother.

  “I will aid him,” she said and then her voice dropped to a whisper. “You do what you must do… but be careful.”

  He nodded, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him for a brief kiss before letting her go to her brother’s aid. She was right and he was no match for the sorcerer. Physical attacks he could evade and deal with. Spells were a different matter. Iolanthe and Bleu could teleport out of their path or use telekinesis to knock them awry. If he tried to fight the sorcerer, he would only be in the way, and he felt sure that Bleu and Iolanthe could handle the man together.

  His fight lay elsewhere, around one hundred feet above him.

  Fernandez and Barafnir clashed again, huge swords cleaving at each other, their wings working overtime to keep them in the air.

  Kyter needed to get them down onto his level.

  He picked up the discarded katana and flexed his fingers around the grip, biding his time as he watched his father clashing with the fallen angel. He was weaker on his right side. Fernandez had dealt a hard blow to that arm and Barafnir naturally favoured his left hand.

  Barafnir’s sword punched through Fernandez’s side, easily penetrating his black armour. The fallen angel grunted and cast his hand forwards, and used his powers to pull the demon closer to him. The sword slid deeper, coming out of his back, but the angel was grinning, flashing sharp fangs as he swung his own blade, aiming it at Barafnir’s neck.

  The demon disappeared in black smoke, his sword with him, and Fernandez’s face screwed up in frustration, his red eyes glowing from beneath his black helm. The fallen angel’s anger gave way to pain as he grimaced and clutched his side. His black feathered wings faltered and he dropped out of the air, landing hard on the ground a short distance from the temple, the impact shattering the rock.

  Barafnir appeared beyond Fernandez and the fallen angel turned towards him, giving Kyter his back, and readied his broadsword.

  Kyter grinned.

  Kicked off.

  Sprinted towards the fallen angel and leaped high in the air. Fernandez whirled to face him, his red eyes shooting wide, and began to bring his sword up. Too late. Kyter roared as he brought the katana down with all of his strength behind the blow and sliced clean through the fallen angel’s shoulder and diagonally down his chest.

  The blade stuck on a point on the male’s ribs but it had done its deadly work.

  Fernandez staggered backwards as Kyter landed and released the sword. The fallen angel eyed it, shock written across every line of his face as he started to lift his hands towards the hilt where it protruded from a spot in the centre of his chest.

  From his heart.

  The fallen angel raised his eyes to Kyter and for a moment Kyter feared his aim had been off and the male was about to make him pay dearly for trying to kill him.

  Red light burst from around the katana and Fernandez threw his head back and bellowed as veins of it spread over his armour, growing in intensity until they blinded Kyter.

  He looked away just as the ground rocked, a shockwave sent him flying, and something warm and wet rained down on the area.

  It smelled like blood.

  Kyter grimaced. He didn’t want to look but he needed to see if Iolanthe was alright.

  He opened his eyes, curling his lip at the grim sight in front of him. Pieces of flesh littered the black land and obsidian feathers drifted down on the warm air. Iolanthe stood off to his left, beside her brother, over the body of the sorcerer.

  Her black armour covered in bits of Fernandez.

  If Kyter had known that fallen angels exploded on death, he might have waited until Iolanthe and Bleu had been with him again, able to teleport him out of the blast zone, before killing Fernandez.

  Barafnir picked himself up off the black ground and turned murderous black eyes on Kyter.

  “It seems you failed to kill Fernandez,” Kyter said as he found his feet and rose to his full height, facing his father across the wide strip of rocky ground.

  The demon male bared his sharp teeth, the pointed tips of his black horns flaring forwards as he beat his enormous dark leathery wings. The jagged obsidian mountains behind him were a fitting backdrop for the demon as he stood with his head held aloft and his immense body covered in blood.

  His father.

  A strange sense of calm came over Kyter. He stood on the precipice of fulfilling a need for revenge that had been steadily building within him throughout his entire life. It felt strange to find himself here, facing a demon who had been nothing but a ghost before today, a nightmarish phantom that had ruined his mother’s life and had shaped his own without ever making an appearance in it.

  As he stood facing Barafnir, he couldn’t help thinking that he looked nothing like him. If it weren’t for the darkness that lived within Kyter, born of his demon genes, he might have been able to convince himself that Barafnir wasn’t his father.

  His mother had been right all those times when he had asked about Barafnir and she had told him that he was the spitting image of her father—a noble and powerful jaguar male.

  He should have believed her rather than believing she was coddling him and lying to protect him, convinced that it hurt her to see him because he looked like his father and was a constant reminder of what she had been through at his hands. He should have been stronger and had faith in her love for him, taking strength from her words rather than allowing doubt and darkness to cloud his mind and his heart.

  She had been the one pure source of affection and comfort in his life before he had met Iolanthe and he should have guarded her better.

  He should have been there to protect her from the bastard standing across from him, just as she had protected him by raising him in secret. She had given him the chance to grow into a strong male and a capable warrior, one powerful enough to take down a demon.

  He curled his fingers into fists at his side and stared across the black ground at Barafnir, hiding none of his anger and pain as he held the demon’s black-and-gold gaze.

  Killing the bastard who had held her captive, ruined her life, and had then murdered her wouldn’t change what had happened, but it was going to make Kyter feel a whole damned lot better.

  He couldn’t bring his mother back, but he could avenge her.

  “I guess that means I still get one order.” Kyter tapped his chin, pretending to think, and then grinned. “I order you to kill yourself.”

  Barafnir didn’t move. A slow smile spread across his lips.

  Kyter didn’t like it one bit. “I order you to kill yourself.”

  Barafnir’s smile turned cold and evil. “No one steals my prey from me. You killed the one who summoned me. I shall avenge him.”

  “You son of a bitch.” Those crude words leaving Iolanthe’s lips caught Kyter off guard and he couldn’t stop himself from staring across at her as she stormed forwards. “You can
not change who your master is as you please.”

  “I do not like this term… master. I have only one master. I mean to keep it that way.” The huge demon male slid her a dark look that promised pain. “I mean to ensure no one can summon me again.”

  Barafnir’s black gaze returned to Kyter.

  “It is time you died.”

  Kyter flexed his hands, his claws breaking through the skin of his fingers, black and sharp as his demonic side rose to the fore once again.

  “My thoughts exactly.” He went to kick off and black smoke engulfed his father.

  It dissipated just as quickly, revealing an empty spot where the demon had been.

  “Kyter.” Bleu’s deep voice and the shiver that ran down Kyter’s spine was all the warning he needed.

  Kyter hurled himself forwards into a roll, narrowly avoiding the sword that slashed across at waist height to him from behind. He sprang onto his feet and turned in time to see Bleu snarling and thrusting with his spear. The black sharp tip of it struck the broadsword Barafnir wielded and shattered the blade in half.

  Barafnir roared and swung the remains of his blade, a section still several feet in length, at Bleu. Bleu teleported and reappeared in the air above the demon, swept his spear above his head and arched back. His violet eyes narrowed on Barafnir’s wings, he grasped the shaft of his spear in both hands and swung it over his head, aiming for them.

  Bleu was a genius.

  Disabling the demon’s wings would give them an advantage they needed. Kyter kicked off, his claws at the ready as he charged towards the huge demon male. Bleu’s spear nicked the demon’s right wing and the male swung a meaty arm at the elf. It struck Bleu in his stomach and he shot across the black terrain, hit the ground and rolled a short distance before coming to a halt.

  Kyter didn’t pause to see whether Bleu was okay. It would take more than a hit to the gut to take down the dark elf. It had probably only served to piss him off.

  Barafnir turned towards Kyter, swinging his blade. Kyter pressed down hard on his last stride, sprang into the air, and sailed over his father’s head. He stretched down with his right hand, dug his claws into the bony part of the black leathery wing to anchor himself, and swung himself down onto his father’s back. He grasped the demon’s right wing and slashed across the membrane with his other hand, rending long gashes in the skin.