Demon from the Dark (Immortals After Dark #10)(58)

A hail of blazing light struck Ronath, hurtling his body into the crowd.



Realizing that Ronath would never release him and that she and Malkom wouldn’t merely walk away from this place, Carrow let diplomacy fall by the wayside.

And launched a kill shot.

They were running out of time anyway. Malkom was weakening with every moment in the sun, with each drop of his blood spilled.

The throng began surging up to the stage, yelling for her head and demanding Malkom’s sacrifice in the fire.

With one hand, she used magic to propel those demons back; with the other, she directed more energy, beginning to work on Malkom’s intricate bonds.

“Carrow, free me,” he grated.

“I’m working on it.” Blindly.

“I will protect you.”

“Little busy, love,” she muttered as she kept a bloodthirsty demonic crowd at bay while simultaneously picking a mystical lock.

Normally, she would have fallen back to regroup, but she could never leave Malkom without protection from this mob. They looked like they wanted to rip him limb from limb.

“What did you do to these people?”

“Kept them without water,” Malkom bit out. “They’re dying of thirst.”

“Ohhh. Good one.”

As she was finishing up with the chains, she realized that she couldn’t fight off all these raving demons. Neither could Malkom.

Time to freak them out. She began chanting a spell . . . to turn day into night.

Once darkness fell, they stilled. Cries rang out. “Release him!” “We’ll all die!” “Let him go!”

Malkom yelled, “Ara, behind you!”

Wild-eyed guards stalked her from the back. She blasted them with searing beams of magic, punching holes into their chests, felling them one after the other.

Still she worked to free Malkom. “I’ve almost got—”

“Carrow, to your left!”

Too late, she pivoted. Impact. The air rushed from her lungs and her body slammed back into one of the stone idols. She peered down in disbelief. A spear jutted from her side.

Ronath’s spear.

He’d traced to the stage, his armor still smoking from her attack. The metal around his neck had saved him from a kill strike. “You belong with him, witch! Burned in the same fire.”

Pain radiated out from her wound. Shock yielded to fury. “You son of a bitch!”

Malkom went ballistic, roaring with rage. His fangs were bared, elongated for a kill. He thrashed with all his strength, nearly getting loose.

“Malkom, I’ll be all right.”

“Then free me, Carrow! I need this.”

Only one bolt remained, securing all his chains together. As she tore free the spear, she gritted, “Make him scream, love.” With a wave of her hand, she removed the final bolt.

Malkom shed his chains, then charged Ronath, claws and fangs bared. “You will die for harming her!”

Ronath traced to the side; Malkom anticipated it. When Ronath materialized, he tackled him.

The armorer struggled to defend himself. But even when injured, Malkom was too quick. Too enraged. He pinned Ronath, bashing the male’s head against the stone. “And for Kallen you will die in agony! He was a brother to me!”

More guards appeared to save their leader. With the last of her strength, Carrow held them back.

When Ronath tried to speak, whispering up to him, Malkom slowed his attack. Yet whatever the armorer said made Malkom roar, “Never!” as he punched his fist through Ronath’s chest plate.

The demon screamed in pain; blood spewed upward like a fountain. Malkom twisted his arm and plucked out his still-beating heart—which he displayed to Ronath, squeezing it into a pulp right before his horrified eyes.

Carrow’s legs weakened, and she collapsed to her knees. No power left to heal herself. Though she loved to see a good vengeance killing as much as the next witch, they had to hurry. “Malkom, please . . .”

Without another thought, he wrenched Ronath’s head from his neck. As Malkom lunged to her, he absently cast it into the dumbfounded crowd. He cares more about me than even that trophy.

“Carrow, tell me what to do to help you.”

“I’ll heal. But we’re running out of time.” She was losing blood, growing dizzy and cold. Only hours left. On the heels of these trials, could he possibly get them both across that desert? And in time? “The portal . . . we must be there before midnight. Or it will close forever.”

With a nod, he lifted her in his arms.

But before they left this place in the dust, Malkom stood before the crowd of freaked-out demons and announced, “She is my female. Mine.” His voice was surprisingly strong, and the demons quieted. “I claim her before all.”

More rumblings and shocked gasps.

Exasperated, Carrow asked, “Was that completely necessary?” Her words sounded weak, reedy.

“Completely.” He gazed down at her. “Wife.”

She frowned. Had he just called her wife? Though dizziness was about to overtake her, she experienced that overwhelming sense of future about him. A shared future. “Malkom, p-please take me home.” He drew her tight to his chest. Against his neck, she murmured, “Can you get us there?”

Just as her lids slid shut, he rasped, “Right now, I can do anything.”