King of the Wilds - Tasha Black Page 0,30

his misery as he ran to the machine.

Cullen inhaled deeply, as if he were savoring Bron’s pain.

Tristan came forward, miniature suns pulsing in each of his hands.

Bron wrapped his arms around the shadowy fae in the machine and tried to pull it from its seat.

It slipped his grasp, easily reshaping itself to avoid him.

Tristan flung a ball of light at the thing and it let out a high-pitched shriek before exploding into nothing.

“Yes, brother,” Bron exclaimed.

Together they turned to face their next foe.

But it was more than just the machines now. The whole forest seemed to be filled with shadow fae, belligerently attacking the trees.

19

Miranda

Miranda gazed down at the tiny shard of mirror, willing it not to be as she recalled it.

But it was. Of course.

There was no doubt that this was the missing glass from the mirror at the mansion.

Which meant that Cullen Ward, one of the most famous businessmen in America, was also involved with the release of evil fae.

She snatched it out of the box before she could chicken out, resisting the impulse to examine the other items.

As fast as she could, she pressed the button to replace the closet and close the door.

She checked the wall mirror on the way back to the suite entry door, and then did a double-take.

The effect of her magic was fading.

She could see Cullen Ward, but she could also see herself beneath him, as if his image had merely been projected onto her, and now the projector was dimming.

“No,” she moaned, closing her eyes to focus.

Her voice was notably higher. It wasn’t quite her own yet, but it was obvious that the disguise was disintegrating.

“Mr. Ward, are you okay in there?” Anthony called from outside the door.

She pictured her boss, willing herself to look and sound like him.

I am Cullen Ward.

“I’m fine, Anthony,” she called back to him, relieved to hear her voice was deep again. “But I could use your help.”

She needed to get him away from his post, so he wouldn’t see her leaving.

“Of course, sir,” Anthony replied. “May I come in?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I need you to go get me a triple espresso.”

“I can ask one of the girls to do that,” Anthony offered.

“I want you to do it,” she told him quickly.

“But… but that would mean your suite is unguarded,” Anthony said nervously. “That’s in direct violation of my duties.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she asked, in what she hoped was a frighteningly thunderous voice. “Do you think I can’t guard my own office for five minutes?”

“Oh, yes. I mean, of course you can,” Anthony said. “I’ll go now.”

She forced herself to count to twenty before heading to the door.

She placed her palm on the sensor.

It didn’t open.

I’m trapped. I’m trapped in his suite.

What kind of person installs security measures to get out of his own office?

Cullen Ward did. Of course he did. He never made anything easy.

She took a breath and tried to focus, but truth of her ability was beginning to dawn on her.

Her magic was stronger because of Bron, that much was true. But it seemed like it was strongest when she was physically close to him.

The more time and distance between them, the more her abilities began to weaken.

Bron, I need you…

She tried to pull up an image of Bron in her mind - huge, muscular, long, messy hair falling around his shoulder, twinkly eyes.

Her heart swelled.

The sensor dinged under her hand.

She dashed into the hallway as fast as she could and hightailed it for the elevator.

“Mr. Ward, are you okay?” Espen called out slavishly.

“Fine,” she said in a perfect staccato impression of her impatient boss.

The elevator doors slid shut, and at last she let the illusion fall away from herself and leaned against the back wall, exhausted.

She’d done it.

She just had to get back to Bron and the others with the shard, and everything would be okay.

20

Bron

Bron closed his eyes and called on his gift.

Tristan battled the shadows bravely, but even his light was slowly fading.

Dorian’s midnight did no damage to these creatures, they almost seemed to feed on it.

Sara’s song had dried up in her throat.

Tabitha stood before the trees the monsters had rent, placing her hands on the suffering bark, trying to heal what had been broken.

They were giving it everything they had, and coming up short.

Somehow, Cullen seemed to draw strength from all their suffering, expanding his army with each fresh agony, as if he were not the King of Order, but the King of Pain.

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