Covetous: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book 2)

by Victoria Evers

  “Then you may want to pay better heed to it.” The Prince stretched his arms out across the backrest of the plush bench, laxly perching his feet up on the end of the bar. “Never in a million years would I have guessed that Blackburn would be the one to sweep you off your feet. Quite clever, that one. When Daniel told me that Harry Houdini back there had weaseled his way into the picture, I couldn’t believe it—not till I saw it with my own eyes. Tell me, love, what sweet nonsense has he filled your head with to make you turn such a blind eye to him?”

  I yanked his jacket off my shoulders and flung it at his face. The fabric was heavier than I had anticipated though, making it plop in his lap instead. “I can’t turn a blind eye to a scheme that doesn’t exist.”

  “Is that so?” His amusement didn’t wane as he beheld me, admiring me like I was the sweetest, silliest thing he had ever seen. “So a guy who has treated you like shit for well over a year miraculously wakes up one day to become your White Knight, and you find nothing odd about that?” He only further chuckled. “And you say I’m crazy.”

  “It didn’t happen like that,” I snapped.

  “Well, I’m all ears, because if I recall correctly, you yourself referred to him as an ‘Abominable Ass-hat’ on more than one occasion. Hell, I saw it with my own eyes. Blackburn acted like you were the Second Coming of the Seven Plagues.” Reaching forward, he plucked up the chilled champagne bottle and untwisted the wired cage surrounding the cork. Considering the number of dinner parties and fundraisers our parents had hosted and dragged us to, the act was nearly perfunctory as he draped the offered towel over the cork and rotated the bottle down until hearing a soft pop. He filled one of the empty flutes and offered it to me, but I merely scowled at him. Blaine just shrugged, taking a sip. “Why the sudden turnaround?”

  “Unlike you, Reese actually has a conscience. He saw what was happening to me, and unlike you,” I added again, “he was actually there for me when I needed help the most.”

  A flicker of satisfaction rang through me, seeing that smug amusement finally fade.

  The muscles in his jaw tightened, highlighting the sharp cut of his cheekbones all the more. “If I could have been there for you, I would have. And you know that.”

  I couldn’t deny it. Not really.

  Blaine had explained it to me the night I discovered he wasn’t dead. In order for him to even claim me as his hellish bride, I had to perform each of the seven deadly sins. And to ensure I wouldn’t have any assistance, he was forbidden from revealing himself to me until I completed all but the last one.

  “Why do you hate me?”

  I wasn’t sure what startled me more: the question, or the earnestness in which he wanted to know. “If you even have to ask that, then you’re not in a position to understand.”

  “I’m trying to understand.”

  “No, you’re not.” I tried muzzling my rage, but I could already feel the vibrations coursing up my arm. “If you ever cared about me, you wouldn’t have done any of this.”

  “Save your life?”

  “Put me in danger!”

  The interior lights around the bar suddenly flickered. His gaze dropped to my arm, seeing the Wrath rune ignited. My fist wrapped tighter about the handle of the armrest, and I could feel the electrical pulsations emitting from my fingertips. The vehicle sputtered shakily in response. I couldn’t have controlled it even if I had wanted to, but at that moment I didn’t care.

  A warm caress seemed to coax through my mind, as tangible as a hand running over my skin. He was in my head… “I’m trying to help.”

  “Stop.” The word came out as nothing more than a pitiful whimper. I forced my eyes shut, as if it could help force him out, but fingers suddenly brushed beneath my chin.

  He was right in front of me. I still hadn’t opened my eyes, but I could feel his breath stir against my lips as he whispered, “Don’t do that, love. Don’t shut me out.”

  “Stop calling me that!” I brought my hand up, blindly slapping him in the face, but the moment my palm connected with his cheek, his own hand wrapped around mine, pinning it there in place. I finally opened my eyes, finding him knelt before me, his right knee resting between my thighs. When had I uncrossed my legs?

  And oh God, his lips…

  Why was he so close?

  Why was his hair black again?

  Why was he kissing...there?

  I shook my head, waiting for the images to disappear, but all I could see was that wood paneled wall from my dreams, feel Blaine touching me, hearing him whisper in my ear.

  Then…blood. There was blood everywhere. All over my hands. And Blaine…

  A gun blast erupted behind me. My throat was raw, the windpipe aching as if I’d just screamed when I shot back into reality. I must have, because Blaine was gripping my shoulder, his eyes wide in alarm. The runes lighting my arm made everything from the muscles to the very skin atop it burn with exhaustion.

  “Hey.” Blaine’s fingers gently wrapped around my wrist, and the ache in my arm vanished the moment the runes subsided. He opened his mouth to say something, but he suddenly froze before jerking back. Like a single image spliced into a film reel, the bloodied field from my nightmare flashed into my vision again. Fear and anger flooded Blaine’s eyes in an instant as his gaze fell to my chest, where my hand remained pinned over my heart. “What the hell was that?”

  Did he just…?

  I shied away, feeling an all-new surge of panic, but as I tried recoiling from him, that invisible pull in my chest hauled me back to him. His hands suddenly cupped my face, and despite my best efforts, tears escaped off my lashes as I forced my eyes shut.

  “Look at me, Kat.”

  Against all will and better judgment, I did.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked again.

  “What’re you talking about?”

  Blaine gave me a pointed stare, clearly not in the mood for my feigned stupidity.

  “It’s… It’s how I die.”

  ***

  For the life of me, I couldn’t stop talking. Not with him looking at me like that. Not with him whispering words into my head. I didn’t know what came over me. The next five minutes was a blur of contradictions. I kept telling myself not to speak, kept demanding that I keep my mouth shut. But that strange tug, that influence rooted inside my chest…it wouldn’t let up. It wasn’t until I relayed every last detail about what had happened with the fortuneteller that I finally found the will to stop. “His influence is nearly impossible to resist, thus turning anyone he captivates into his unwitting servant.” The words from that journal Reese’s father had left behind rang through my mind, stealing my breath in the process.

  Oh God…

  It really was happening.

  That pull I felt when he was near… The dreams… This…

  The hex was going into effect.

  Just as I regained enough of my senses to react, Blaine withdrew from me on his accord, reclaiming his seat on the elongated side bench in front of me. He ran a hand over his face, his own breathing now jagged. “And you saw this only after she touched the mating rune?”

  I nodded, relieved by my momentary hesitation. At least I could still control my body…for now.

  Blaine’s face had gone sickly pale. “Blood for blood.”

  “H-how do you know that? Did you see what happened? I mean, all of it?” I’d never had such a luxury. In my vision, I always felt the pain, but only ever caught glimpses of images and muffled voices. Nothing perfectly clear.

  He shook his head, more to himself. “Have you ever seen a sigil, in this dream?”

  “A snake.” I could see it in his eyes. He knew what I was talking about. “But how do you…?”

  “That’s also how I die.”

  “What?”

  He turned his attention outside, as if the answer could be found on a mile marker. We appeared to notice the same thing, because our eyes locked on one another’s at the exact same moment. Blaine immediate
ly hit the button to roll down the privacy divider, but it didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath, fiddling with the gadgets to no avail.

  I noted the button on the panel beside me and turned on the microphone function. “Val?”

  “Yes’m?” he answered in the most sugary tone.

  “Where are we going? We just passed the off ramp for the Hideaway.”

  “Change of plans,” Val purred. “We’re heading up north.”

  Blaine and I both paled. “North where?” we asked in unison.

  The Dark Mage up front chuckled. “Good ole Mystic Harbor, Maine.”

  “What?”

  Chapter 23

  Mad World

  Surely, this had to be some kind of joke.

  Blaine said as much, but his brother only laughed harder.

  “There’s been some suspicious activity at the Hideaway, so Raelynd wants to play it safe—take you somewhere protected. You two lovebirds will be staying at your family’s estate,” Val cooed.

  “My ‘family’ thinks I’m dead,” gnashed Blaine. “What do you expect me to do? Waltz into their house, throw a white sheet over my head, and go, ‘Boo!’?”

  “Always with the dramatics,” Val drawled, the amusement in his voice barely contained. “No, I meant the other estate.”

  This didn’t seem to assure him any. Blaine settled back into his seat, looking like someone just handed him another death sentence. And the mood didn’t lighten any over the course of the next hour. If anything, his misery found company in me as familiar landmarks and shops came into view as we drove over a river I knew all too well, accompanied by a sign that announced, “Welcome to Mystic Harbor.” Not a moment later did we pass The Office, Mr. Reynolds’s waterfront bar on the south side of town. Adam’s Jeep Wrangler was even parked out front. This place used to be my home away from home. I spent hours upon hours after school curled up in the back booth with Adam, doing my homework. I’d even memorized the entire catalog of the jukebox machine. Now, the sight only had bile rising up my throat, had me cowering away to the other side of the car. It didn’t matter if the windows were tinted or not. Being this close made me feel like an escaped convict driving past FBI headquarters, as if anyone and everyone was out looking for me and I was on enemy territory.

  The feeling didn’t lessen as we drove past the mall and into Old Port, the 19th-century shopping district made up of cobblestone streets and historic buildings. I’d always loved taking early morning jogs through here during the summer, seeing the dew settle into the moss covered roofs. When the natural mist met with the break of dawn, the entire district glowed in gorgeous golden hues. But today, it only reflected the gloom resonating from within the car. It seemed as if the storm was chasing us up the coast, because the sky only grew darker, making the earth tremble in its quake as roar after roar bellowed overhead. Everyone scurried about the sidewalks, umbrellas in hand, as they raced for their cars. The rain coming down was only a light drizzle, but the lightning flashed above us like a siren, warning the town of the impending storm, perhaps warning them of us.

  I couldn’t have thanked the driver enough that he decided on taking the back roads along the coast. If we’d headed up north on Main Street, we would have inevitably taken DuPont Lane, which went past my folks’ place. My stomach dropped, however, as the pier came into sight, along with the advertisement for Slippery Pete’s restaurant. The last time I’d been here was when I’d leapt out of a moving car to get away from Blaine, where I’d accidentally hit him with enough energy that it had stopped his heart—and mine. To my surprise, the limousine turned onto an unfamiliar side street, leading us southbound into a forested collection of reclusive estates. This must have been where Blaine had been planning on taking me—if I hadn’t escaped.

  I’d been to the Ryder’s estate in town on several occasions, mostly for dinner parties and fundraisers my mother had co-organized with Blaine’s mom. The place was pretty much a castle, even by Mystic Harbor’s haughty standards. I expected as much from this estate when we continued along down the coast, eventually coming to the end of the road. Large wrought iron gates greeted us as the limousine turned onto a long private driveway. As if on silent command, the gates drew open, despite no one manning the entrance. There wasn’t even a call button.

  I looked to Blaine, hoping for some clarity, but he still refused to meet my eyes. It was unnerving. Somehow, Blaine not talking made him all the more intimidating. Seeing him in quiet contemplation, seeing his eyes shift every which way as the gears in his head turned over, it promised an unspoken wrath.

  The narrow road continued down another winding bend, encased by trees that domed over the path. At last, in the center of the thicket made of elder maples and evergreens rested an English Tudor estate. It could easily be classified as a manor, but it wasn’t nearly as gaudy as Blaine’s family home. There weren’t any other houses in sight, made all the better by the lush greenery obscuring distant eyes. It was surprisingly quaint, if not for the sudden procession of cars pulling up in back of us as our driver took us to the small courtyard out front.

  “Welcome to Haven Crest,” announced Val not a moment later, ushering me out of the back of the car. “This is where all the magic happens.”

  “Magic?” I asked, unable to control the nervous crack in my voice.

  “Indeed.” He slung an arm around my shoulder, drawing me up alongside him. “Here, nobody can hear you…scream,” he whispered balefully.

  The double meaning wasn’t lost on me. It didn’t matter what kind of ‘screaming’ he was insinuating. All I knew was that I didn’t want any part in it. The series of unfamiliar black vehicles pulled up, and armed men stepped out to greet us. Panic ran rampant in me until I spotted the man sitting on the hood of the Land Cruiser that had already been parked out front when we arrived. It was a different face than the one I’d last seen him sporting, but the mannerisms were uncanny.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite couple?” Raelynd flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot heel upon leaping off the hood. The joyous way the demon greeted us, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, you’d think we were bricks of cocaine being presented to an addict. “Valor has told me the exciting news.”

  He grabbed Blaine’s shoulders as if to pull him into a hug. Instead, the demon grabbed the collar of the Mage’s shirt, yanking both sides away from his neck, exposing the fang marks I’d left behind. Raelynd outright purred at the sight, unable to rein in his curiosity. He ran his fingers across the scars, and Blaine immediately tried pulling away, obviously feeling the same revulsion that always accompanied the deed anytime somebody touched my own.

  The reaction pleased the demon all the more as he laughed, turning his attention to me. “You, my darling Princess…” His eyes scoped me from head to toe, clearly appreciating Val’s delicate choice for my outfit. “Well done. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint.” The man made no effort to contain his enthusiasm, howling out into the tempestuous air.

  Maybe he was high… He surely acted like it.

  And I didn’t dare glance at the other people in attendance, feeling their eyes burning on me as they, too, took in my so-called dress. I instinctively tugged down on the chemise, trying to pull the fabric further over my exposed thighs, but Val’s hand clasped discreetly around mine. He shook his head, ever so slightly. A silent plea.

  “Do you have any idea what this means?” Raelynd’s voice startled us both, and Val let go of me, but not so fast as to look suspicious. He knew better than to upset the Boss. But the demon didn’t seem to notice in the least, still consumed by his own enthusiasm. Raelynd’s hands fell from Blaine, only to wind up cupping my face.

  The fire in his eyes was equally crazed as it was delighted, like I was the oasis in a barren desert. Before I could even think to push him away, the demon smacked his lips against my cheek. It only lasted for a second, and he pulled away, his laughter so manic it could give the Joker a freaking run for his money.<
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  One look back over at the Crown Prince’s dour expression, and he finally gave an exasperated sigh. “For pity’s sake, mate, you look as if somebody’s just walked over your grave. You’ve got your girl, a lovely place to lay low, and a house entirely to yourselves. What could you possibly be sulking over?”

  “What was wrong with the Hideaway?” Blaine demanded. “Why the hell would you bring us here of all places?”

  “As far as the Hideaway is concerned, those matters are still being investigated. As for the second inquiry,” the demon crooned, “when you escape from prison, where do you run?”

  A shiver prickled up my spine at the mention. It appeared I wasn’t the only one who viewed us as fugitives.

  Raelynd pulled Blaine in closer, as if to tell him a secret. “You go as far away as you can, as any smart man would. Those Reapers will be looking at every airport, train station, and border crossing they can get footage of. And that is precisely why this is so perfect. The absolute last place that any of those bastards will be focusing on is right under their noses.”

  “Forgive me, but I can’t say I feel particularly comforted, given that demons already tried kidnapping my mate,” Blaine snarled. “And last I checked, I’m not the only one around here with permission to get inside.”

  “No need to worry about your previous security detail, I assure you. I had your brother dispose of that demonic lot after your little run-in with that Angelorum blade,” Raelynd drawled, uninterested. “Good help really is hard to find, isn’t it?”

  I stole a questioning glance at Val, who in turn merely smirked and pointed to the ground. I gulped.

  Hell… He had sent them to Hell.

  Raelynd waved a hand, as if to clear his thoughts. “But no bother. Not a single soul will be allowed now inside the manor unless expressed specifically by you, or your darling Katrina.”

  Blaine still didn’t appear satisfied, but nevertheless nodded.

  “Fantastic!” Raelynd clapped, and there were hands all around us, grabbing sets of luggage and bags from the trunk—all of which belonged to me. Did Blaine not pack anything?