Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            “Lass?”

            “Contractions. Coming faster.” She could barely see through the tears blurring her vision, but were other Lykae stumbling from their homes?

            A brighter light shone from the settlement wall. Cradling her, Munro staggered toward that light. Others did as well.

            Ren’s consciousness wavered, but she fought to remain awake. Even if someone arrived to save the day against the warlocks this moment, she was probably too far gone for a c-section. She needed to settle in somewhere and labor.

            “Easy,” he murmured, right as another contraction hit. “Just sit tight a little longer.”

            “Sit tight?” Pain amplified her temper. “I can’t turn this on and off . . . like a fucking light switch!”

            “I know, love. I know . . .”

            When they reached the wall, the main entryway was open. The posted sentries had gone to their knees, hands at their throats as they gasped for breath.

            She peered through the opening. In the midst of an oak forest on the other side of the dome stood rows of blank-eyed Lykae vassals and dozens of warlocks ready to strike. Leading the force was an archwarlock in a purple robe, his lunatic sneer filled with triumph.

            Jels the Conniver.





            When Munro spotted the archwarlock, rage surged inside him, even as his strength continued to ebb. He could hardly stand upright, much less hold his mate.

            “How I’ve awaited this moment,” Jels said, his eyes black with hatred. He looked crazed, had obviously lost his sanity along with his temple and his son. One of his glowing hands was raised to the sky, fueling the dome with his magic. “You took everything from me, and now I get to return the favor.”

            Kereny struggled for air and clutched her belly. All around them, other Lykae dropped to the ground, wheezing.

            On the wall, Madadh’s beast was half-risen. Other residents were loosing their beasts, needing to fight. Munro’s bayed for freedom as well. The witches’ protection would prevent the warlocks from vassaling the Lykae, but that wouldn’t matter if they all suffocated.

            With effort, Munro called to Jels, “What do you want?”

            “To punish you. You and your mate will come to me, or you will all die. I’ll smother your entire pack.”

            Munro knew that if he and Kereny surrendered, they and their children would be lost forever behind Quondam’s sphere. He held his entire life in his arms. And he couldn’t protect his family.

            Jels laughed. “You want your beast to rise up and turn the tide, don’t you, animal? To attack me? The air around me is covered with a vassal spell.”

            What was the play here? What choice did Munro have other than offering up everything he loved to an evil fiend?

            “I told you guile will always best brute strength,” Jels said with a smirk. “Our species will forever win over yours.” His gaze fell to Kereny’s arm, to her control cuff. “What’s this? You think to tame the animal inside you? Wolves using magic!” Spittle formed on his lips as he cried, “I’ll punish you even more for that—and for this protection spell that you thought would defend your stronghold.”

            They hadn’t depended on that spell alone. Why hadn’t Kereny’s plan worked?

            She screamed in pain. More blood wetted Munro’s arm. What the hell do I do?

            Jels’s smile faded. “Is she in labor?” His skin grew even paler. “Come forward, now!”

            That prick wants our lads alive. Munro’s stomach churned.

            Yet then a breeze slid over the oak grove. Leaves rustled and branches swayed as fog slithered in. The vassals grew antsy, blue eyes darting.

            Maybe Kereny’s plan was still in play. But so much rides on the timing. He needed to stall.

            He called to Jels between gasps, “I vow to the Lore that we will come to you . . . but only if you remove the dome first.”

            “You don’t make the rules!” Jels shoved his hand higher, and his magic flared. Air grew scarcer as he wrung more oxygen from the settlement.