What am I doing? I’m going to kill every Channeler here. And for what? The prince may give me a weird home feeling, but he’s just another cage.

A clear image of the test room comes to mind, my body flaming as Flanagan holds my head in his hands. I remember the strange clarity and freedom igniting gave me. I’m not sure how setting myself on fire is going to help, but instinct tells me that’s what I should do.

While Flanagan holds me upright, I fix my gaze on Alexei’s pale features and imagine Flame consuming me.

I light with an instant gust.

Flames lick over my skin and hair. Pain flips into pleasure. The scorching fire transforms into swirling bliss, and my mind snaps to a sharp focus. Alexei’s Call pulses through my heart, but more of a distant invitation than demand.

Flanagan checks my face. He’s unaffected by the silver fire pouring across his body. “Michael?”

I draw in a deep, bone-shuddering breath and nod. “I think I’ve got it.”

You must continue, Michael. The prince’s order lashes my mind.

No. Fuck no. I’ll kill them. I’m surprised when I see the vampire smile at my resistance. He looks more pleased than upset.

“Stop. Just fucking stop,” I yell at the Flame.

All the arcs of light snap back to their owners. A sudden silence blankets the field.

Flanagan releases me from his tight embrace to check the men on the ground beside us. My knees nearly buckle with relief when I hear them groan. I haven’t murdered a field full of people, then?

Spreading my feet for better support, I raise my hands to the two witches next to Alexei, still locked in their private battle with Quinton. I have no idea what I’m doing, but this seemed to work the first time.

“Flame, I call you.”

Yes, Whisperer. The soft female voice caresses my mind like a sigh.

New streams of light leap from the cloaked figures of Alexei’s witches and race toward me. I catch terror widening Alyona’s eyes before the light hits my chest. This time the energy simply feeds the fire. I stand inside a raging inferno. Silver-white flames engulf me and spill over the ground. Though the vampires’ wails ricochet across the field, I’m only aware of bliss and a giddy sense of power. It’s wonderful. Like I own the world.

A smile curves Alexei’s pouty lips as he watches me. His black eyes shine with pride, as if his favorite toy has outstripped his expectations. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about his witches contorting at his feet.

I check on Quinton. Freed from his battle, he’s collapsed to his knees, panting for air, a grimace fixed to his features. He looks like he’s just done twenty rounds in a boxing ring.