Voresta
He’d dropped her outside of The Succ. It was the seediest bar in all of Noctis, and he’d merely assumed that his Broodmate would be inside. You fucking idiot! He couldn’t even blame Finare for this fuck up, because he’d allowed himself to become complacent.
He’d decimated Killian in Oaris and hadn’t sighted him since.
He’d thought Killian had given up the hunt after his defeat.
He was counting on that to be true. He couldn’t afford to let Ivy meet her Ending just months away from her Ascension.
Leseldh had entrusted him with Ivy’s protection, and he would not—could not—fail him.
He parked the car in the vacant lot behind The Succ and sprinted towards the entrance to the bar.
Once inside, his eyes frantically scanned the scattered tables that were filled with a variety of patrons.
He saw the familiar tumble of Ivy’s black wavy hair in a booth at the back of the bar, and to his horror, a familiar black-haired Vampire with his arm around her. Killian. Did he arrive just in time?
His pace quickened, and Ivy turned towards him as he approached. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and fear was etched upon her features. Killian’s eyes snapped up to meet his and they were filled with challenge.
“Hey, Voresta. Nice of you to show up.”
“Get out of here, Killian. Don’t make me wipe the floor with you again.”
“This time, I’ll be wiping your blood off my blade.” Killian released his hold on Ivy, sliding out from the booth to stand.
He rose to his full height, which made him taller than Voresta, but he wasn’t afraid of the larger male.
Every muscle in Voresta’s body was coiled and ready for the fight, and his eyes flicked to the blade strapped at Killian’s thigh.
He hadn’t yet unclipped the sheath, and he couldn’t give Killian a chance to do so.
Voresta lunged forward with his fists up.
Killian blocked the first barrage of blows while trying to free the weapon.
Voresta stayed within his range, though, and hammered him with a hail of punches to his torso to keep him on the defensive.
Nearby patrons scattered, but none attempted to intervene.
It really was ‘anything goes’ within the walls of The Succ.
Voresta risked a glance at Ivy to urge her to flee.
The movement cost him. Killian was able to draw back enough to launch a savage kick to his chest, and it sent him sprawling into a nearby table.
The table shattered beneath him, knocking the wind from his lungs.
He collected himself off the floor, but Killian had already closed the distance between them and was hovering over him.
He grabbed Voresta by his shirt and yanked him back to his feet.
Killian punched him in the face so hard that he saw stars.
Voresta dived backward to compose himself and spat blood on the floor between them. He noticed that Killian hadn’t yet drawn his blade, and realised he was toying with him. Voresta’s rage burned bright within him, and he surged forward again.
He dealt a right hook that threw Killian off balance, but he recovered before Voresta could follow through with another strike.
Killian twisted away from the next punch, which glanced off his chest. Voresta lined up his next strike, but in the flurry of movement, he didn’t see that Killian had drawn his weapon.
He caught a slice to the forearm with the deadly blade.
The flesh sizzled as the blade connected with it, and Voresta reared back. The pain that followed wasn’t the worst he’d experienced in his life, but unpleasant all the same. The wound didn’t bleed, but it also wouldn’t heal.
Aware that the stakes were higher than ever, he moved out of Killian’s reach and risked another glance at Ivy. She was frozen in place in the booth, her wide eyes flicking between he and Killian in fright.
“Ivy, get over here,” Voresta growled at her, drawing her attention. She rose from her seat and skirted around the fray to stand behind him, and he shifted to shield her with his body.
“It’s time you fuck off back to the hole you crawled out of, Maurell.”
“But I was just starting to have fun.” Killian grinned at Voresta, and he wanted nothing more than to tear his face off. But while that blade was in play, the risk was too great. Voresta was not above calling a truce if the situation warranted it.
“Guess we’ll just have to pick this up next time.” Killian shrugged, flashing a wink in Ivy’s direction before waving them off with his blade still in hand.
There won’t be a next time.