Filed To Story: Cursed Legacies Series Free PDF by Morgan B Lee
That combined with his slow movements and bizarre calm makes me swear. Those are all signs of being hypnotized by a vampire.
Bertram, I warn the others telepathically, wincing when my side that got nicked stings, warmth spreading under my black combat attire.
Godsdamn it, Crypt seethes, his remaining markings glowing.
Frost
?
—
“I’ll snap him out of it. Go get that bastard’s head for our keeper,” Everett orders, taking over pinning Silas to the ground. Crypt vanishes, and my elemental looks at me. “I had to snap some Reformists out of a vampire’s influence on the front lines, months ago. It won’t be pretty, but?—“
A chill rolls over my spine, and I move on instinct, whirling to jam Cuttrina into the center of a necromancer that was just trying to sneak up on us. I don’t recognize this one, but he’s screeching and writhing in pain as I kick him away.
Fuck. Maven, are you bleeding? Baelfire asks telepathically, panic in his voice.
A little.
“What? Where?” Everett demands even as he begins encapsulating Silas’s chest in ice to keep his arms from moving.
I can smell it, Baelfire says quickly.
Your demigoddess blood is pretty damn fragrant, and I think the fiends are catching on to it. That’s going to blow our whole changeling shtick out of the water.
Shit. He’s right.
But there’s no point healing it now that my side is soaked in blood. The damage is done, so I focus on killing off any threat nearby as Everett tries to snap Silas out of it. I’m pretty sure my scarred elemental is freezing and unfreezing something inside Silas’s body, but I can’t focus on it because a scream goes up from the battle being waged at the edge of the arena.
That draws my attention to two namghirr as they scuttle into view. The giant, highly venomous namghirr move blindingly fast, impaling allies and throwing the writhing, poison-filled corpses aside. Their stingers are about as long as my arm—and I remember all too well what it feels like to be impaled by them repeatedly.
Baelfire is focused on taking down a group of particularly big ghouls, and I’m not about to let those namghirr get anywhere near Silas and Everett right now, so I wipe blood off my knives and take off toward the creatures, swerving around several fresh ghosts.
As I approach these creatures, I remember the last time I expired from their venomous stingers. I was nineteen at the time and woke up in my hovel later with Lillian crying nearby.
“Don’t cry. I’m okay,” I’d told her.
“Being okay isn’t enough,”
she’d insisted. “
I watched how much pain you were in on that arena floor. Don’t make me watch that ever again, little raven. Promise me that the next time you fight those things, you’ll have a better strategy. You’re far stronger and smarter than anything in this dead realm, so don’t you dare let them hurt you like that again.”
And just like every other time I’ve fought namghirr since then, I’ve listened to her.
Falling into the same strategy I’ve used to kill dozens of these creatures, I ignore the worried shouts of Everett and Baelfire inside my head, and I drop to my knees. Sliding across the arena floor between the two front pincers of a namghirr, I raise my knives to score the underside of the deadly creature. Its blood gushes overhead, dousing me.
Rolling out from under it, I slash hard as its back stinger jabs where I just was. Its dismembered stinger falls uselessly to the arena floor. All it takes is leaping onto its back to stab through its screeching head, and I’m onto the next one to repeat my tried-and-true namghirr slaying method.
By the time I’m done, both of them are bleeding out, twitching on the arena floor as the fight continues to rage on throughout the citadel. I’m covered in namghirr blood, smiling and breathing hard from the thrill of taking down these deadly creatures, when Crypt appears out of Limbo in front of me.
He’s also covered in fresh blood, but his gaze is pure obsession as he studies me, setting down a head on the arena floor beside us.
It’s Bertram’s head, complete with his bright red hair.
“Enjoying yourself, darling?”
“I’m having the time of my new life,” I grin.
“My gods, you’re so stunning in your element,” he breathes before wrapping me up in a kiss.
I should probably tell him this may be one of the worst times in the world to be kissing, but his mouth is so desperate and perfect against mine. Even in battle, he smells like sweet reverium and leather, and soon I’m kissing him back as warfare rages around us.
I sense coolness behind me just before Crypt releases me, and suddenly my head is tipped back as Everett steals a kiss from me next. It’s shorter but no less passionate before he wipes namghirr blood off my cheek.
“Silas is back,” he tells me, his glacial gaze flicking around us to check for any threats.
Silas? I check, glancing over my shoulder to see that my fae is surrounded by loyal Undead as he braces himself on his knees, catching his breath.
Are you okay?
I’m—
His telepathic voice cuts off like he was just about to try lying. He straightens to meet my gaze through the battle, speaking in fae.
I’ll be fine once I can apologize between your pretty thighs again for nearly harming the love of my life.
Gods.
He doesn’t owe me an apology, but I’m not about to point that out now that he’s reminded me of how fucking fantastic he is at apologizing with his mouth.
A dragon roars overhead again, and blue fire bathes something far away in Amadeus’s citadel. All of us are drawn back into battle for what feels like hours, but is more likely minutes. More shadow fiends are being drawn to me because of the scent of my demigoddess blood.
Not that I mind. I crave being surrounded by combat like this, and fighting beside my quintet is fulfilling, especially when we’re all so much stronger thanks to our bond.
But when a petrifying chill seems to spread through the air, I go still.
Amadeus is here.
MAVEN
I should have known he wouldn’t emerge until he knew precisely where I was.
The Entity’s presence is too corrupted and familiar to mistake. Instead of killing the basilisk in front of me, I let Crypt cut through it with his lighter sword as I turn. I don’t even have to look for him—my gaze immediately finds the immortal being who called me his.
He just entered his arena from a side entrance. Towering over the grey-draped necromancers and liches that surround him, Amadeus is exactly how I remember. Wearing the attire of ancient kings, sapped of all color, he’s an imposing skeletal figure with pitch black, whiteless eyes set in an emotionless face that would otherwise seem almost kind.
Like the rest of the necromancers in his court, his bald head is decorated with countless necromantic runes, but right now, he’s wearing his intricate crown that is still missing the piece of etherium I stole years ago.
The sight of him brings back more memories. Things I’ve forgotten on purpose, like my so-called father ordering two of his necromancers to force-feed me meat once he learned I refused to eat it anymore. When I killed them, he locked me in the dungeons I was conditioned in and left me there for three days to fend off the Undead until I expired.
He had me fight in this arena every day for the last two years of my life in the Nether, threatening to feed Lillian to his court if I lost.
He molded me. Trained me. Called me daughter and gave me a purpose. He punished me severely when I wasn’t measuring up to his expectations of his telum, and offered the barest of acknowledgment if I ever exceeded those expectations.
In a sick way, I do have Amadeus to thank for the way I turned out.
I also have him to thank for taking away Lillian.
That thought makes me turn to face Amadeus more fully as I grip the handles of my blades. Cuttrina extends into my scythe, the etherium curve gleaming in the faint light of the green fires burning around this arena. My heart pounds in a rhythm that tells me either something big is about to happen, or it really is malfunctioning this time.
Holy fucking shit, Baelfire says through the bond when his attention finally falls on the king of the Undead now entering the arena.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.