Daimon (Guardians of Hades #6) - Felicity Heaton Page 0,90

daemons last night.

He bared his fangs at the blonde witch who had her arm outstretched towards him and cast his right hand at her before he could consider what he was doing, rage getting the better of him. Five spears of ice formed and shot towards her.

The witch didn’t move.

She casually raised her hand, her palm facing him, and the ice spears shattered as they struck an invisible barrier.

“Deal with him.” The witch turned imperiously away from him, as if he was nothing more than a gnat, insignificant and unworthy of her time.

He was a son of Hades. A god. He would teach her to show him more respect.

The darkness pouring through his veins surged stronger, claiming more of him, and he was swift to give in to it.

He leaped at the lead witch on a vicious snarl.

One of the other witches shot into his path and he grabbed her by her throat, didn’t even look at her as he tossed her aside. In the distance, water splashed as she hit it. He lunged for the blonde witch, growled when the woman evaded him, too fast for him to grab.

The same spell Cass had used to taunt him in Hong Kong.

He focused his senses, grinned as he felt her, and twisted and launched his hand out. His hand clamped down on her forehead as she appeared, icy talons curling around to pierce her flesh and draw blood that stained her blonde locks.

“Belle!” another witch shrieked and fire slammed into his back, shoving him forwards and heating his skin to an unbearable degree for a moment before his ice kicked in again.

He stared into Belle’s dark eyes and grinned at her to flash fangs as he tightened his grip.

But still couldn’t bring himself to kill.

He glanced at Cass, caught the pain and fear in her eyes as she stood as still as a statue, saw the conflict that ran through him as it ran through her too.

Belle’s irises brightened to silver-lilac and she grabbed his arm in both hands.

He bellowed, entire body juddering as pain lit him up, fire that felt as if it was searing his insides, melting them.

His icy talons shattered.

“Daimon!” Cass’s voice rang in his ears as he struggled against the next wave of fire as it wrapped around him and consumed him. Her voice gained pitch. “Please don’t hurt him.”

She said something else, something muffled by the sound of his own agonised roar as it tore from his lips.

And then the fire ceased.

The witch released him.

Daimon sagged to his knees, breathing hard, entire body still aflame as he called on his ice, desperate for the cold to soothe him and steal away his pain.

“Stop and I’ll go with you,” Cass said.

For a sweet moment, he thought she was speaking to him.

“Very well.” Belle’s voice cut through him, had him surging to his feet as he heard the victory in it.

She hadn’t won this battle.

He mustered his ice, fought the lingering effects of her spell to reform the crystal talons over his fingers, and locked his knees, refusing to let the weakness invading him send him back onto them.

He had to stop the witches.

This time he wouldn’t hold back. He wouldn’t. Cass would hate him if he hurt her family, but he would bear it, because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.

Or the thought of what would happen if she returned to her coven.

Cass stepped between him and Belle.

“Move aside, Cass,” he said, his eyes remaining locked on the witch she was protecting. “You don’t need to go with them. I can handle this.”

“Daimon,” Cass murmured and he glanced at her, meant only to check on her but lingered as he saw the hurt in her eyes, the pain she tried to mask with a smile.

She didn’t want to go. It was right there in her eyes for him to read, all of her feelings about her coven and what was going to happen to her laid bare.

“Just come to me, Cass. We can leave. Never come back.” He extended his hand to her, let the ice melt from it as he turned it palm up, reaching for her, silently begging her to take it.

Sorrow flitted across her face, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because she was going to do as he asked and was sad that she was turning her back on her family, or because she was going to leave him.

“Cass,” he whispered and stretched for her, needing her to take his