Page 110 of Fae Farewells

The battle was slowing down, and Freya was ordering Winter guards to mist the alive ones to the dungeon before the hounds could eat them, too.

Seeing as no one needed my help, I followed Sloane.

The love of my life swaggered back into the throne room like this was her fucking palace. Determination swept through our bond, followed by a terrifying tranquility.

I felt sorry for the alicorn for a split second, because she was too calm as she set her eyes upon him.

He was dancing around Vaughn’s back, waiting for an opening where he wouldn’t hit Alania, too. Sloane threw one of my lightning rods, jamming it into his flank with such force he slid across the marble floor.

Alania shoved a massive wave of water against Vaughn, pushing our fae backward through the room as Bowers raced toward him from the opposite side.

“Break my back,” Sloane demanded, her eyes bouncing between their natural tri-colored shine and red. “Palmer. Break—”

“Why not your hand or something else?”

“I need my hands,” she replied, shaking her head as her brows furrowed.

“You need your fucking back, too,” I snapped quietly.

Vaughn glanced over his shoulder at us, then let the water push him the rest of the way to us, like he was standing on a wave. And as soon as he was within striking distance, I tried to step between them.

“Don’t—”

He shoved Sloane with both hands against her chest, sending her flying into the marble pillar near us. A crack ran the length of the stone from the impact, the sound clapping through the room.

It took her a moment to climb to her feet again, but this time, she looked more refreshed.

She pointed at our fae. “That’s the second time you’ve broken my back this week.”

A dark smirk tilted his lips as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Want to go for three?”

She grinned. “Careful, Winter Prince. You’ve been spending too much time with the incubus, and we have people to kill.”

Vaughn walked forward without another word, ripping the remains of his shirt away like some wicked version of those cartoons Novak watched.

“Who the fuck was that?” I asked curiously. “Our fae?”

It was the first time I’d realized why Vaughn had so many quirks and control issues. Those were the things that kept the darkness inside him at bay.

Sloane embraced her villainy with all the murder and mischief. But our fae leashed his depravity, meticulously needing to keep order to guide his chaos while being hunted by his aunt.

“I’m still not an incubus,” Stone growled under his breath.

“‘Tis the dark prince,” Sloane replied in a chilling rasp before popping back at the demon, “That’s debatable.”

She disappeared in a cloud of smoke, spreading across the floor as if this magic was a fog machine. It built, layer upon layer, until we were waist high in it. The alicorn refused to land where he couldn’t see the ground.

Novak appeared from the shadows, startling me, but only getting a bored glare from Stone.

“Why did she do that?” Novak inquired. “I know pain isn’t an issue for her, but why ask for more? She’s taken several hits already that she could have dodged.”

“She needs the pain,” the demon answered. “It makes her hyper-focus on her surroundings. That’s why we never feel physical pain from her; she absorbs it the same way she does fear.”

He whipped his head around, shrewd golden eyes glaring at us. “Why? How? Is she even in control right now?”

“The angel in her feeds on pain the same way her demon feeds on fear.” I shrugged. “Because there’s so much more angel in her, she needs more pain than fear or blood or food. Asking for pain is her way of binging. As for which version of her is in charge right now, I’ve not the slightest idea.”

The alicorn flew low, flapping his enormous wings to clear the smoke below. Once his hooves hit the marble floor, he barreled toward her.