Seraphina by Eros Marata

Author:Eros, Marata [Eros, Marata]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Tamara Rose Blodgett
Published: 2015-07-27T07:00:00+00:00

6

Altho

“Temperance, man.”

“Vampire,” Titus replies in a droll tone.

Altho smirks.

Titus stands, heaving the human body away from him while making casual work of a superficial burial of leaves and other forest debris. “You speak of patience as though it is such a great skill. I see it as a vice.”

“Oh?” Altho asks, dusting his breeches of food remnants and travel dust. He scans the area. A pulse of magick beats a few miles to their northerly position and he frowns.

Somehow, this mission has filled him with hope. Not only is the signature crystal clear, but it seems to be moving toward them rather than shrouded in a hidden blanket of fuzziness that in the past has had Altho chasing his own tail instead of finding Seraphina as he ought.

“I see you exercise patience in abundance with Marquette,” Altho comments with softly spoken words.

Corrin grunts, but quiets with a hard glare delivered by Titus. “I do not need a female who shape changes.”

“She is like the shifters of old,” Corrin says, cleaning the blood from his teeth with a stolen knife from the human he just bled.

Altho gives a cursory glance around him at the human bodies heaped five deep and grunts. “She saved you from the pureblood Reapers who would end one such as you.”

“True,” Corrin agrees.

Titus scrubs the dark hair of his head, turning to glare at them both. “Can a vampire just enjoy a good bloodletting without speaking of all the drivel?”

“No,” Altho and Corrin voice simultaneously.

“Goddess!” Titus rants, stalking away.

“Not too far, Titus, methinks my intended is close at hand.” Altho's voice is jovial, belying his disquiet.

Seraphina might be coming in this direction. But after ten months of endless searching and moving in circles, Altho believes it is too simple that she be almost upon them.

Altho does not believe in simple. Or coincidence. In the life of a Druid witch, coincidence equals a scheme of tactical deliberation on the part of his enemy.

Could they be walking into a trap?

Or could she have the entire pack of Weres as escort? And if so—does it mean that the den is on the move and that if Altho does not run headlong toward what he knows is Seraphina and his progeny, that she and his child will be lost forever?

Because there is no doubt, Seraphina's signature encompasses not one signature, but the uniqueness of two—so alike, yet separate.

A sense of urgency grips Altho and he straightens from his perch against a massive tree trunk.

“Let us make haste.”

Corrin looks up from his teeth cleaning with a nod. Using the blade, he wings it through the air. It spins with a metallic whistle, seating itself with a twang in the mountain of dead human flesh.

“Come.”

Corrin tosses his rucksack on his shoulders and with a clenched jaw they follow Titus, trudging forward into the unknown.

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