Davina (Davy Harwood #3)(24)

They were ignored. And as the last servant went past them, the couple got up and ran out of the restaurant.

The Mother Wolf turned at the doorway, right before entering the back room, and watched their departure. The corners of her eyes crinkled up and her lip twitched into a faint smile, but as quick as it appeared, it disappeared. A stoic expression settled back in place, but her insides were amused. She forgot how some humans were. It’d been so long since she was around these new humans, ones that knew nothing of their existence and only were aware of their own lives. They were self-absorbed and ignorant, thinking they were safe in their daily lives. They were not. The rest of her wolves had stopped and were waiting for her. She went into the back room, but she had a brief thought in the back of her mind. Perhaps it would do to send her wolves out to this new world, maybe every now and then. It would be good to remind humans how weak and powerless they were. They could do with the reminder.

Then, she turned and faced why they had arrived in this very busy city, and to a restaurant that the world thought was trendy. She saw the sorcerer. He stood in the back, still in the shadows, but she felt his power and it was equal to hers. He came from the oldest and most powerful vampire family, and normally, he would be her enemy.

Right now, on this day, he was her friend, and she smiled. “Hello, Jacith.”





ROANE



Roane felt her arriving, just like the last time on the cliff, but he felt her rage more than the slight buzzing in the air. When she did appear, he was scouting ahead of the group on a higher embankment, and he dodged the impending attack.

“Vampire!” Saren roared, flying through the air.

She regrouped and came at him again.

He ducked one more time. As her hand jabbed at him, he bent backwards so he was almost horizontal to the ground. Saren flew up in the air again and kicked out with her leg. This time, as he started to come back up, she clipped him in the head, but he was unfazed. He reached up and caught her ankle, twisting her body in the air again.

Saren gasped from the surprising speed of his reaction, but countered once again. She dipped backwards, jerking her foot out of his hand and she followed through, doing a backwards roundhouse. As she righted so she was standing on her feet, her second foot swiped out at Roane. He caught that one, too, but instead of trying to throw her, he shoved her away from him.

She landed on her feet, her knees buckled, her arms out in a ready stance. “You killed me.”

“I snapped your neck. There’s a difference.”

The flame in her eyes sparked up. “Oh? Please unveil the difference to me.”

“You’re Immortal. Snapping your neck did nothing to you.” He smirked at her. “But it did me a world of difference. Thank you. I had a whole day away from you.”

The flame lit up, overtaking her entire eyes, and it burned the air. “And if you were attacked while I was gone?”

Roane drew back, startled. His eyes narrowed. “I would’ve slaughtered them like anyone else. You think you’re that needed? Trust me. We did fine without you, and we’ll do so again.”

“You have no idea—” she started.

He cut her off, shaking his head. “Don’t. You’re here as a tag along. That’s it. You need the army to rescue Davy. We don’t need you. Let’s get that straight.”

She stared at him, and as she did, the flames doubled in size. But then, they stopped. They drew back and simmered so only a light smattering of smoke showed. She said, almost saddened now, “You’re wrong, Vampire. I am more needed than you realize.”

Grass was stepped on in the distance, and both went silent, looking toward where the sound came from. A second piece of grass was crushed, then a third. Both remained silent, now on high alert as predators, as they waited for the newcomer. Whoever it was, kept coming. They seemed unheeded by the sudden lull in voices. As one unit, without looking at the other, each drew to opposite sides of where the new arrival would appear. Both moved silent, as if touching air when they moved, and drew their weapons. Saren held a sword across her chest, her head dipped low, and her eyes downcast. Roane pulled out a knife, but kept it tucked against his arm. He waited with his arms down at his side.

The person continued toward them.

Roane lifted his head, filling his nose with as many smells as he could get. It was a werewolf, but he couldn’t identify what family. If it were a Christane wolf, he’d only maim him. No wolf should be on his path, unless sent there because Christian didn’t trust him. If it were an enemy line, he’d do the same. The wolf would be brought back to camp for interrogation, but when the person stepped forward, now between them, Roane held back. It was Christian himself. But Saren didn’t hold back. She launched forward. Christian twisted and caught her. He fell back from her momentum, but tossed her over his head.