Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Luka’s mind all but crashed into hers, and then his voice poured inside—hard, demanding, filled with dread: Naomi? Naomi, tell me you’re all right.
She tried to respond, she really did, but her head hurt too much.
Fuck, baby, hold on.
Iain grabbed her arm tighter. “Now, Naomi, get up.”
“Sorry to say,” came a deep voice from the darkness, “you won’t be going anywhere.”
Magick crackled again. A loud cry tore out of Iain. There was the thud of a body hitting the ground. All of which Naomi barely registered, the pain in her head becoming so great that she couldn’t think of anything else. She sagged forward, her eyes falling shut as unconsciousness dragged her under.
As the office door closed behind Luka’s now ex-employee, Nikandr whistled low from the sofa. “Two people quitting in one week—unusual.” He paused before adding, “Though I suppose it’s not surprising that Draya quit. She’d want to avoid you after what she did.”
Yes, but whereas Sela had resigned in person, Draya had done it remotely—and with immediate effect.
“It isn’t so surprising that Sela quit either, when you think about it,” said Mikhail, beside his brother. “It was getting on top of her watching newcomers join all happy and excited but then, after years of being regulars, eventually turn miserable and hopeless because they can’t stop.”
“Yeah,” muttered Nikandr. “Then she had to watch her friend’s partner repeatedly come here and gamble away his wages when he had a family to support.” He refocused on Luka. “You cut him off, but it didn’t stop him from blowing his paycheck—he just did it elsewhere.”
“I heard he threw a tantrum at a different venue, swearing that his car had been stolen from the lot,” Mikhail threw in. “Turns out it got repossessed while he was busy playing blackjack.”
That was the frustrating thing. Luka could ban someone from his club to prevent them from losing their funds, home, or other possessions, but they’d only submerge themselves in debt at another casino.
“Are you going to attempt to track down Draya?” Nikandr asked him.
Leaning back in his chair, Luka arched a brow. “She confronted and insulted Naomi. You think I’d let that slide?”
“Draya must think you will, or she would never have done it.”
Mikhail pursed his lips. “She probably figures Maddox will protect her from you.”
“He can try,” said Luka. It wouldn’t work. Neither he nor his demons were willing to ignore this.
Too many fucking people seemed to be under the mistaken impression that it was acceptable to upset his mate. He needed to make it abundantly clear that—
Konstantin’s psyche crashed into his. East corner of Shaler Road! Clerics!
Luka’s stomach dropped, a chill racing down his spine. He shot to his feet. Daniil, my office, he ordered.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mikhail as he and his brother stood.
“Clerics.” An acute sense of urgency clawing at him, Luka quickly reached out to his mate. Naomi? Naomi, tell me you’re all right.
Her psyche slid weakly against his, and he sensed that she was barely conscious.
Dread clutched his gut. Fuck, baby, hold on.
Right then, Daniil materialized.
“Take us to the east corner of Shaler Road,” Luka ordered.
Their surroundings blurred . . . and then darkened. All he could see was blackness. No, wait, there were brief flashes of hellfire and magick. And a loud cacophony of sounds.
Sounds of battle.
Sheer panic shuddering through him, he conjured a ball of hellfire to break up the darkness, but it didn’t help much. It did, however, gain him the attention of someone, because ribbons of magick sailed right at him.
He dodged them fast and then tossed the flaming orb. A loud yell of pain sounded, moments before the darkness abruptly lifted, like someone had snapped open blackout curtains.
Luka swept his gaze over his surroundings, searching for Naomi. Bodies littered the floor, some of them clerics. Several people stood around, including Jolene, Tobe, and Ciaran. Since the trio made no attempt to attack the others, he was assuming they were also imps.
He dismissed them, his only concern Naomi . . . but she was nowhere to be seen. He touched her mind again, immediately sensing that she’d passed out. Fuck. “They took her.” The words were torn out of him.
Blood rushed to his ears as rage, panic, and dread flooded his system, blindingly intense. There was another emotion. It had been so long since he’d felt fear that he almost didn’t recognize it. Cold and near-overpowering, it seemed bottomless; he could so easily drown in it.
“She’s alive?” asked Nikandr, his face creased in concern.
He nodded hard. “Unconscious, but alive.”
Crouched beside a fallen Konstantin, Mikhail grimaced. “He’s gone.”
Another pulse of anger coursed through Luka.
“Where’s Naomi?” Tobe demanded as he, Jolene, and Ciaran hurried over to them.
“The clerics seem to have snatched her right off the street,” Luka gritted out, feeling his skin stretch as his demons writhed beneath it, furious beyond measure, their minds leaping to the worst-case scenario, ready to burn the fucking world.