Misty looked up, her heart slamming against her chest in terrified anticipation. And she was right to worry, Misty realized when she saw the numerous Faeries crouched on the branches, staring at her with murder in their eyes.

Traitors – all of them.

“In a few minutes Lysander will be coming here. Like you he had received a message but this time he will think it’s from you. He’ll think you have changed your mind. I want you to seduce him, Misty. I want you to give him what he wants. My warriors will be watching you and both of you will die with one wrong move. Do you understand?”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

“That’s none of your f**king business,” Ivory hissed. “Just concentrate on being a slut for dear Lysander.” She backed away with a crazy smile on her face. “Enjoy being taken.”


She whirled around, her heart sinking to see that it was indeed Lysander.

Domenico, please help me.

It was stupid to pray for him. He was a god, maybe, but he was not God. Even so, it felt so incredibly good to pray for Domenico’s strength. He had been the strongest, the bravest person she had ever met and she wished it was possible to have even just a little of Domenico’s courage so that she could figure a way out of Ivory’s trap.

Lysander reached her side.

She couldn’t delay any longer.

Domenico, please save me. It was her last thought before lifting her arms to curl around his neck and bringing him closer for a kiss.


Ivory’s eyes were red-rimmed, with the Master’s power coursing through her. It was an exhilarating feeling and she couldn’t get enough of it. Even better, Ivory would get more of that power once she completed Master’s plan.

But she had one last step to do.

“Your Highness!” Ivory pretended to gasp in exhaustion, her head falling down. “You must go to the forest and stop Sir Lysander from forcing himself on Lady Misty!” It was the very best excuse because she knew Domenico would only become suspicious if she mentioned Misty doing anything marginally immoral or even wrong.

“Where?” Domenico’s body chilled at the thought of Misty being hurt. That f**king bastard better be gone or he would kill him with his bare hands.

“In the cave, near the---“

“I know it. Thank you,” he said brusquely, striding past her without a glance.

Again, she burned with hatred at how easily Domenico Moretti ignored her.

This would be the last straw, though.

The next time they met, he would be a f**king slave, not even fit to kiss her feet.

Domenico’s fear had him panting by the time he reached the edge of the brook. Ahead was the cave that he had once spirited Misty away from Lysander’s hold. Before he could dive in a step, he caught sight of one familiar dark head.

Could it be---

He moved forward faster, not bothering to keep his movements silent. But still the figures did not move and finally he saw who it was.

It was Misty in Lysander’s arms, her blouse unbuttoned and the sides hanging loose on her sides, Lysander sucking on her neck.

“Get the f**k away from her!” Domenico roared. He tried pulling Misty away as quickly as he could without hurting her, but she shocked him instead with the way she forcefully pushed him away. He fell back, unable to believe his worst fears were being confirmed.

No. This couldn’t be happening. Misty loved him. He had to believe in her. He had to trust her like she asked.

More footsteps were heard, and Ivory slowly emerged, her face the perfect picture of shock as she took it all in.

Liar, Misty wanted to scream even as she stayed at Lysander’s side, clutching her blouse together in an effort to keep herself covered.

“Highness, I’m sorry, I didn’t know---I got it wrong!” Ivory exclaimed with a little sob. “I’m so sorry.”

Domenico couldn’t take his gaze off Misty. She was half-naked, with only her shirt on, her legs completely bare. “Misty, it’s okay,” he said rawly. “You don’t have to explain anything. I won’t…just please come here. We can fix this.” His world shattered when even after those words she shook her head at him, tears in her eyes.

She was pleading him with her eyes, but what was she pleading for? For him to f**king leave her and Lysander to have their happily-ever-after?

“Didn’t you tell me he’s f**king g*y, Misty?”

She shook her head again, her voice scratchy as she said, “I….lied.”

Domenico wanted to roar at the pain those two simple words caused. “Is this what you really want? Did vengeance mean so much to you that you had to do all this just to hurt me?”

Misty choked back a sob, her shoulders shaking at the effort to control her tears. She dared not let herself cry because it would distract her. She could feel the menacing pairs of eyes above her never straying from their targets, and if she closed her eyes she could easily imagine their swords pointed at them. One wrong move and they would all be dead.

Ivory tugged his hand. “Please, Your Highness, let us leave them. You do not deserve to be hurt like this.”

Domenico wrenched his hand away from Ivory, his eyes still clinging to Misty. “Sweetheart, please, stop this.” His voice was threadbare thin, his face bleached completely of color. “I’m so goddamn sorry for hurting you in the past but it won’t happen again. You had your revenge now. I get it. So let’s start anew.”

She shook her head.

Domenico fell to his knees.

Misty almost cried out. No, no, no. She didn’t want this. She couldn’t bear this.

“What do I have to do to get you back, Misty? Help me, please.”

Misty wanted to die. She looked at the woman who had caused all this and that was when she saw it.

Red eyes.

She abruptly turned to Lysander, throwing her arms around him, squeezing her eyes shut at the broken sound that came out from Domenico.

“Misty, I’m begging you, please…”

She forced herself to concentrate even though every cell of her being begged her to go to Domenico.

If there was one thing she learned about vampires, then it was that they had nothing goodness left in them. If Ivory was a vampire, then it only meant one thing – nothing good would come out of following her. Misty was better off taking a risk with all their lives than leave their fates entirely in a soulless woman’s hands.

She pulled Lysander’s head down, knowing that what she was about to whisper would be easily picked up by Domenico’s heightened sense of hearing.

Tags: Marian Tee The Moretti Werewolf Vampires
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