Chapter 293. Host

Chapter 293: 293. Host

Maisie

"Barely," said Jericho. "He hasn’t spoken much since his capture. Though he has maintained a significant amount of threats. Something about his royal lineage and a host of dragons sacking Ashbourne if he isn’t released soon from ’this purgatory’." Jericho cocked his head. "You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Oh shit.

Holy shit.

I felt all of the blood drain from my body. I tore the wing off a royal from a different world? Great. Couldn’t it have been a regular nutjob at the bottom of their shitty hierarchy? A host of dragons? How many was a ’host’? Three? Fifty?

A hand landed on my thigh, clamping down to stop the nervous, frantic leg-bounce I hadn’t realized I was doing. Amber eyes met mine. "You do that when you’re worried."

I did?

I forced a smile. "I’m not. I’m fine."

He didn’t buy it but he didn’t push, either, withdrawing his hand. He glanced out the window, jaw tight and tension rolled off him in waves.

When Quinlan finally pulled into the driveway, I practically bolted. I scrambled out of the car, eager to put a door between them and myself before the questions began.

But I halted mid-step through the threshold when Soren called out my name.

"Maisie."

There was a pleading ache in his voice.

I shut my eyes against a brewing headache as he added, "We... need to talk."

"Right," I said, spinning back to face their narrowed gazes. "I should... umm... take a shower first. Get all this glitter off me, and... Goddess, the blood too. You know, you guys should take a shower--"

"You can’t run from this forever, cherie," Quinlan said softly, stepping closer.

I opened my mouth to shoot back another defensive lie, but all three of them suddenly froze, their eyes shifting past my shoulder.

A tantalizing wall of heat brushed against my back.

I turned, and the words died in my throat. My breath hitched as my gaze locked into vivid, brilliant green eyes.

"Mercer," I breathed.

My heart did a violent, soaring flip. God, I had missed him.

He looked imposing, filling the entryway with his massive frame. His thick, fiery red hair was pulled back into a messy man-bun, with loose strands framing his jaw. He was dressed in a suit but his jacket and tie were gone, leaving only a crisp button-down with the sleeves rolled high, exposing the corded muscle his thick forearms.

Gravity shifted and recentered around him and I couldn’t tell which gave first. My Lycan’s need to mark him immediately or my soul’s yearning to complete what had been missing.

Before I could process the relief washing over me, he stepped into my space. His warmth wrapped around me like a shield. His large, calloused hand reached out, cupping my cheek. The heat of his body was intoxicating, drawing me in as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine without warning.

I melted instantly, my hands rising to grip his broad shoulders.

His mouth slid against mine sweetly, pulling, like it was the first time he was tasting me. If felt different. It wasn’t bad. No, it wasn’t bad at all.

It was just... different. More curious than it was heated, his touch felt more like an exploration than it felt intimate.

There was a dark energy rolling off him and my body tethered on the edge of the danger he was oozing and the phantom whispers of the forbidden pleasure he could give me.

My Lycan was silent. My skin didn’t tingle. My core didn’t clench. I wasn’t being consumed.

It looked like Mercer. Breathed like him. Felt like him. But I knew, even as he stroked my tongue expertly that it wasn’t him.

I pushed back, but he held fast, fangs sharp as razors nipping at my bottom lip. That dark promise of pleasure increased to an unbearable level and--

Hands wrapped around me, yanking me back. I was thrust behind Jericho, then shielded behind Soren, who bared his fangs at the intruder.

"Who the fuck are you?" Soren snarl-roared, his Lycan aura threatening to blow the roof off the mansion.

Not-Mercer grinned, taking a slow swipe of his tongue across his lip to lick off a smear of my blood. "Depends."

His frame rippled. His broad shoulders shrank, his red hair darkened into a glossy cascade of red tresses, and his eyes shifted to a striking violet-blue. His suit melted into a shimmering green gown that swept the floorboards.

Soren froze, his hands trembling at his sides as color drained from his face. "Mother?"

Not-Mercer chuckled, and it’s form shifted again. This time, he expanded into a massive man, towering inches over Jericho. He wore a dusty, early-nineties frock suit, his amber eyes wild like an exotic animal’s.

Jericho stiffened, a breath of pain and disbelief escaping him.

The creature strolled around us in a lazy circle. "Little Vane," it tsked, its voice raspy and accented and horrifyingly familiar to Jericho. "Did you ever wonder why it was so easy for your little fortress to burn to ashes? You still hear the screaming, don’t you?"

It smiled too wide, revealing sharp fangs. "Riddle me this. How is it that the boy stayed in the cage for more than half a decade without being found, in a world where the Crown knows and sees all? Was it fate, or was it designed that way? How curious."

I shuddered.

It stopped moving in front of Quinlan. And it shifted shapes again. The woman who appeared was a beauty like none I’d ever seen. She had skin as fair as snow and hair was the same golden tint as Quinlan’s. Her eyes however, were a cruel black.

She was dressed scantily in a black blouse that did nothing to hide her full breasts. And skirts with slits that went as high as her waist line, exposing toned calves and long legs. She was posed like a dancer.

Quinlan’s breathing changed.

She giggled, clapping her hands. "Ooh. Struck a nerve, haven’t I?"

Quinlan moved faster than lightning, and the wall shattered as he pinned her to it with his arm to her throat. "Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?"

She licked her fangs and pouted over at me. "You never mentioned me? I’m really offended. Here I thought we were of best friends."

She vanished out of existence, but Jericho cocked his head, and whirled behind him, catching her by the throat the very second she rematerialized.

But this time, it was a man. A wheezing, coughing, green-eyed fucking demon.

"Well... this is kinky," the man choked out, a wicked, forked tongue sliding over his lip. "Think you could... hold me a little tighter?"

My jaw hit the floor. "Gruer?!"

What the hell was he doing here?