Alexei takes my head in gentle hands and raises my face. He strokes hair from my eyes. His glowing beauty blinds me. “You have done well, youngling. I am proud of you.”

“Let him go, Alexei.” Flanagan’s voice booms across the mansion garden. “You’re surrounded by fifty Guardians. You have no army, only two witches, and no hope of leaving here without my permission. Let Michael go, and I will let you leave.”

Alexei holds my head close to his groin, letting my face press against his firmness. I want to rip his trousers open and take him into my mouth.

“Mmm. You smell quite delicious, my beauty. What have you been up to?” He runs the soft pad of his thumb across my lips, and I open to let him inside. He presses deeper, letting me suck. Then he glances up. I’m sure I hear one of Flanagan’s growls. Alexei smiles.

When he looks down at me again, I’m swallowed by the dark embrace of his eyes.

I want to take you home, but I need your help, precious one. Return to the Lycan and wait for my instruction.

“What?” His request feels like a kick.

“Trust your prince, youngling,” he says softly.

I do as he asks and rise to walk away backward. As the distance grows, my heart yearns to rush back into his arms. He gives me a faint nod of encouragement. I feel every eye in the field as I move closer to the Guardians waiting on the steps.

When I reach the gravel path that spreads in a circle before the mansion’s entrance, I wait, still facing my prince.

Alexei speaks to Flanagan. A dangerous smile curls his lips. “I require no army, Lycan. All the power I need stands before you.”

Michael, my love. Call the Flame—from my enemies only.

Without conscious choice, I raise my hands toward the soldiers circling the prince on both sides and close my eyes.

The words leave my mouth as a dry, mechanical order. “Flame, come to me. I’m calling you.”

Yes, Whisperer, says the Flame.

Chapter 23

23

Screams slam my ears as my call strips Flame from every Channeler present. Multiple streams of silver light arc through the air to pummel my chest and back. Bodies convulse, dropping to the grass, and Blackriver’s gardens transform into an electric light display. The energy hurtles into me like a river of churning fire that drives me to my knees. Veins cook, muscles fry, nerves melt and fray. My world warps into molten pain, and my back arches as a scream wrenches from my throat.

Something dark inside me wakes, cracks an eye, and prepares to yawn wide, a chasm opening to accept the power raging through my system.

No, Michael. Alexei’s voice strikes me like a whip. Take only their Flame.