with his Irish accent. “You two stay ’ere, we keep attackin’.”
“You have no right,” Tristan yelled. “These are innocents!”
Ian laughed his sick ogre’s laugh, his red hair shaking and his pale blue eyes crinkling. “But you ain’t! And . . . so’s ya know . . . the boy is ours.”
My breath caught. Dorian! The realization that he and Owen were supposed to be here slammed into me like a Mack truck. The thought of them in a burning building or among the bodies drained all of my sensibility.
“Dorian,” I yelled, turning around in circles, the obliterated village spinning in blurs. “Owen! Dorian!”
A female vampire knelt in front of me and took my hand. “They’re not here, Miz Alexis.”
I turned to Tristan, jerking my arm away as the vamp sniffed at the drying blood. The gold in his eyes was dim, the green dark, his expression unfathomable.
“They have him?”
Ian laughed. And I couldn’t help it. Every time I saw the disgusting ogre, he was laughing at my heartbreak. I didn’t electrocute him, though. Ian hated the Amadis in a different way than other Daemoni—he held a vendetta for his own heartbreak by my mother, who rejected his advances. So I pushed all my Amadis power through my hand and directed it right at his chest. Love, hope, and faith . . . everything good wrapped into a thick rope of energy that I jammed into his heart. He fell to the ground, writhing.
Maniacal laughter—laughter at his misery—bubbled in my chest, but I managed to suppress it. I’d torture Ian until he begged for mercy and would only let up long enough to take what I needed from his mind. And then I might kill the bastard.
The other Daemoni advanced two steps toward me as I continued with the force on Ian. I held my left hand up.
“Don’t. Make. Me. Fry. You.”
A warlock held his own hands up, threatening me with his magic. “Leave then.”
“We leave after you do,” Tristan said. “We’re not abandoning these innocents.”
“We’re watching,” the warlock warned. “You don’t leave, we attack. Again. And again. And again . . . until you do.”
Tristan cocked his head, and I heard what he heard—with my ears and my mind—and my breath let out with relief. I let Ian go.
“Not a problem,” Tristan said.
An old, rusty truck appeared down the road, heading straight for us and swerving for the Daemoni. They popped out of sight.
“Need a lift?” Owen yelled from the driver’s side.
“Get in, princess,” Jax called from the passenger’s seat as the truck slowed down enough for Tristan and me to jump into the back. But I didn’t move until I saw the little blond head wedged between Owen and Jax. He’s safe. I sprang into the truck’s bed.
“Take cover,” Tristan yelled at the Amadis and the burning village instantly disappeared. “The truck, too, Owen!”
Owen thrust his hands up to shield and cloak the truck and then yanked the wheel in a hard left turn, throwing Tristan and me against the side of the bed. Several figures popped into existence in the direction we had been heading, but not able to see us, they gave up and disappeared again. Then the truck backfired, slowed, and stopped.
“Is something wrong?” My voice cracked on the last word as panic tried to grip me.
“Nah. This is where I get out, princess,” Jax said. “I only came to show warlock here how to find Kuckaroo. He would have never made it in time, the direction he was going.”
“How did you know?”
“My bird friend brought me a message about the Daemoni. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they’re looking for.” He peered back the way we’d come, as if he could still see the hidden town. “I guess those are the closest I got to mates. I can’t abandon them. Better see what I can do.”
He took off down the road, no time for any of us to say long goodbyes.
“Thank you for everything,” I called out.
“Any time, princess.”
Owen jammed the truck into gear, and it lurched, then rumbled on. I jumped to the front of the bed and pulled Dorian through the open window to the cab, welding him against me, never wanting to let him go. I kissed all over the top of his head, every part that wasn’t buried against me.
“Mom . . . can’t . . . breathe,” Dorian gasped against my chest.
I laughed, an unfamiliar sound mixed with joy and grief—joy to have my baby in my