Chapter 10 The Boring Kidnapping #2
And Selene—Selene walked through the flames she'd created like a queen surveying her kingdom.
Her emerald eyes found mine across the warehouse, and her lips curved in a smile that was equal parts relief and predatory satisfaction.
She raised one hand, and the fire parted before her, creating a path through the destruction.
"Darling," she called, her voice carrying a melodic lilt despite the chaos. "You look uncomfortable. Let's fix that."
She reached me in three graceful strides and knelt beside my chair, her fingers working at the ropes with practiced efficiency. The bindings fell away, and I gasped as blood rushed back into my hands.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice softer now, meant only for me. "Did they touch you?"
"Just my dignity." I flexed my fingers, wincing at the pins and needles. "They were terrible conversationalists. And the accommodations were severely lacking."
Selene laughed, bright and relieved. "We'll have to complain to management."
Around us, the warehouse had become a symphony of violence.
Lucien was systematically dismantling the remaining mercenaries—I counted at least four more than I'd initially seen, which explained why the kidnapping had felt understaffed.
Darius moved through the chaos with cold efficiency, his blade finding throats and hearts with surgical precision.
Azrael's shadows coiled and struck, leaving unconscious—or dead—bodies in their wake.
It was brutal. It was efficient. It was them.
And it was for me.
The warmth that flooded my chest at that realization was entirely inappropriate given the circumstances, but I couldn't help it. They'd come for me. They'd torn through a building and killed—or severely maimed—everyone who'd threatened me. Because I was theirs, and they protected what was theirs.
Lucien appeared at my side, his chest heaving, his hands covered in blood that wasn't his own. His amber eyes raked over me, searching for injuries, and something in his expression eased when he found none.
"You're okay," he said, his voice rough. "You're okay."
"I'm fine." I reached up and touched his face, smearing blood across his cheekbone. "I knew you'd come."
His eyes closed, and he leaned into my touch like a man starved for it. "Always. Always."
Darius approached, his blade now clean and sheathed, his expression a mask of controlled fury. "The Blackburn Coven will pay for this. I'll make certain of it."
"Later," Selene said firmly. "Right now, we need to get her home. She's been sitting in a cold warehouse for hours. She needs food, warmth, and probably a very long bath."
"I need a drink," I corrected. "And possibly a nap. In that order."
Azrael appeared beside me, his golden eyes soft with relief. He didn't speak—just took my hand and pressed it to his chest, over where his heart would beat if he had one. The demon's mark on my thigh pulsed with warmth, and I felt his emotions wash over me: relief, fury, love, possession.
You're safe, his voice whispered in my mind. You're safe, and you're ours, and we will never let anyone take you from us again.
I squeezed his hand. I know.
The warehouse burned behind us as we walked out into the night. Selene's magical fire consumed everything—evidence, bodies, the last traces of the incompetent mercenaries who'd thought they could use me as leverage against the most dangerous family in the supernatural world.
The car was waiting at the edge of the property, a sleek black SUV that probably cost more than my entire life savings.
Lucien opened the door for me, his hand gentle on my elbow as he guided me inside.
Darius slid in on my other side, his thigh pressing against mine.
Azrael took the front passenger seat, and Selene settled behind the wheel.
"Home," she said, and the word had never sounded so good.
The drive back to the manor was quiet. Not uncomfortably so—more like the silence that follows a storm, when everyone is catching their breath and taking stock of the damage.
Lucien's hand never left my thigh. Darius stared out the window, but his fingers were intertwined with mine.
Azrael's golden eyes watched me in the rearview mirror, soft and reverent.
I closed my eyes and let myself feel it—the safety, the belonging, the bone-deep certainty that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
They'd burned a building for me. Killed for me. Would do it again without hesitation.
And I loved them for it. All of them.
The manor's lights appeared through the trees, warm and welcoming. Home. My home. Our home.
Selene pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. For a moment, none of us moved.
Then Lucien turned to me, his amber eyes blazing. "If you ever scare me like that again, I'm going to chain you to my bed and never let you leave."
I smiled. "Promise?"
His growl was half frustration, half reluctant amusement. "You're impossible."
"I know." I leaned over and kissed him—soft, quick, a reassurance. "But I'm yours."
The tension in the car finally broke. Darius exhaled. Azrael's lips curved in that devastating almost-smile. Selene laughed, bright and relieved.
"Yes," she said, opening her door. "You are. Now come inside, darling. Let's get you cleaned up and remind you exactly who you belong to."
I didn't need reminding. But I wasn't about to turn down the offer.