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Book: When Temptation Burns: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 6) by J.K. Beck
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Authors: J.K. Beck
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immediately.
“Kathryn!”
He reached for her, but she recoiled, her eyes darting to and fro as she sought an escape. For a moment, her eyes met his, and he saw the horror that filled them. Then she turned toward the open window, the glass having already shattered from the rising heat.
Her movement thrust him into action and he forced the flames down. It was the wrong thing to do. Fresh fear flooded her face, and as he stepped toward her, she threw herself out of the open window, leaping into the arms of death. He didn’t hesitate—he leaped out of the window too, fear and love bolstering his powers. He commanded the air to cushion both of their falls, but it was too late for her, and she landed in a charred, burned heap on the ground.
He came down with a thump beside her, his body twisting to cradle hers as something inside of him broke. With an anguished cry, he pressed his palm against her forehead, desperate to see what she’d seen, and yet terrifiedof what he might learn. At first there was nothing, and he feared he was too weak, his gift fading as his hunger grew. But then he caught the tail of an image. Then another and another. Vague outlines, patterns and shadows that meant nothing and then, like a mirage in the desert, it all came together to form a picture. A terrible, horrible picture. And, seeing it, Doyle understood.
Because in his love’s mind, he saw fangs. And blood.
He saw Lucius Dragos feeding upon a housemaid.
Lucius, who had lost control of his daemon, and in the losing had killed Kathryn as surely as if he’d sunk his fangs into her neck.
The memory flashed through Doyle’s mind in an instant, bringing fresh grief and fresh anger.
He pushed both aside, then froze, careful not to move and inadvertently spring another trap. He had to be careful. To concentrate on
this
moment. On getting this girl out alive.
Cort rushed forward—Doyle tried to stop him, but the agent was too quick. He was obviously intent on leaping over the flames, and he ignored Doyle and the girl, who was screaming that it was a trap.
A split second later, a thin blade burst from the side of the cavern, swooping down in an executioner’s arc—taking Cort’s head right off at the neck.
The girl shrieked, the sound filling the room like breaking glass. Doyle ignored her, because now there was a new problem—the blade had emerged from a slab of stone that doubled as a doorway. Rhys burst from it at a run, heading toward the girl, who had the self-presenceto clamp her mouth shut and run in the opposite direction. But that was no help. She was still caught behind the wall of fire—and Rhys was in the fiery trap with her. Doyle pulled his gun and fired, emptying the magazine, but the wooden bullets burned up before reaching their target. The hematite Taser would be no use, either. Not from this side of the barrier.
There was only one solution, and he didn’t know if he had the strength for it. Even if he made it, he’d be drained by the time he reached Rhys, and the vampire would be able to take him out as easily as squashing a bug.
The girl stared at him through the flames, her eyes wide, her expression terrified. Her blond hair was wild around her face, and he knew that he couldn’t abandon her. No matter how low their odds, he had to at least try.
With effort, he gathered his remaining strength, calling upon his control over the elements, which swirled like a storm around him, gaining power. He drew it in, letting it build, then thrust the power back out toward the flames, demanding their obedience.
It worked—but only barely.
The fire seemed to leap off the ground, leaving a gap of heated, shimmering air between the floor and the base of the flames. Doyle threw himself to the ground, momentum sliding him under the flames and into the enclosure with Rhys and the girl.
It happened fast, and considering Rhys’s almost comically surprised expression, the vampire hadn’t expected his trap to be breached.
“Kathryn!”
He reached for her, but she recoiled, her eyes darting to and fro as she sought an escape. For a moment, her eyes met his, and he saw the horror that filled them. Then she turned toward the open window, the glass having already shattered from the rising heat.
Her movement thrust him into action and he forced the flames down. It was the wrong thing to do. Fresh fear flooded her face, and as he stepped toward her, she threw herself out of the open window, leaping into the arms of death. He didn’t hesitate—he leaped out of the window too, fear and love bolstering his powers. He commanded the air to cushion both of their falls, but it was too late for her, and she landed in a charred, burned heap on the ground.
He came down with a thump beside her, his body twisting to cradle hers as something inside of him broke. With an anguished cry, he pressed his palm against her forehead, desperate to see what she’d seen, and yet terrifiedof what he might learn. At first there was nothing, and he feared he was too weak, his gift fading as his hunger grew. But then he caught the tail of an image. Then another and another. Vague outlines, patterns and shadows that meant nothing and then, like a mirage in the desert, it all came together to form a picture. A terrible, horrible picture. And, seeing it, Doyle understood.
Because in his love’s mind, he saw fangs. And blood.
He saw Lucius Dragos feeding upon a housemaid.
Lucius, who had lost control of his daemon, and in the losing had killed Kathryn as surely as if he’d sunk his fangs into her neck.
The memory flashed through Doyle’s mind in an instant, bringing fresh grief and fresh anger.
He pushed both aside, then froze, careful not to move and inadvertently spring another trap. He had to be careful. To concentrate on
this
moment. On getting this girl out alive.
Cort rushed forward—Doyle tried to stop him, but the agent was too quick. He was obviously intent on leaping over the flames, and he ignored Doyle and the girl, who was screaming that it was a trap.
A split second later, a thin blade burst from the side of the cavern, swooping down in an executioner’s arc—taking Cort’s head right off at the neck.
The girl shrieked, the sound filling the room like breaking glass. Doyle ignored her, because now there was a new problem—the blade had emerged from a slab of stone that doubled as a doorway. Rhys burst from it at a run, heading toward the girl, who had the self-presenceto clamp her mouth shut and run in the opposite direction. But that was no help. She was still caught behind the wall of fire—and Rhys was in the fiery trap with her. Doyle pulled his gun and fired, emptying the magazine, but the wooden bullets burned up before reaching their target. The hematite Taser would be no use, either. Not from this side of the barrier.
There was only one solution, and he didn’t know if he had the strength for it. Even if he made it, he’d be drained by the time he reached Rhys, and the vampire would be able to take him out as easily as squashing a bug.
The girl stared at him through the flames, her eyes wide, her expression terrified. Her blond hair was wild around her face, and he knew that he couldn’t abandon her. No matter how low their odds, he had to at least try.
With effort, he gathered his remaining strength, calling upon his control over the elements, which swirled like a storm around him, gaining power. He drew it in, letting it build, then thrust the power back out toward the flames, demanding their obedience.
It worked—but only barely.
The fire seemed to leap off the ground, leaving a gap of heated, shimmering air between the floor and the base of the flames. Doyle threw himself to the ground, momentum sliding him under the flames and into the enclosure with Rhys and the girl.
It happened fast, and considering Rhys’s almost comically surprised expression, the vampire hadn’t expected his trap to be breached.
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