The Prince of Zammar

Rising Heat - Chapter Two

TWO

After the guards left, Jalen turned his attention back to Marek’s crumpled form and shoved him in the ribs with his foot. Marek groaned and rolled over. Jalen looked down at him, waiting for him to regain consciousness. Apart from the slight buzzing in his ears, he felt... powerful, in control. He was angry and intent on exacting punishment. His magic welled inside, stronger than ever before. He would have no difficulty in dealing with Marek.

How dare Marek put a hand on his woman.

“Up,” he snarled as Marek’s eyes fluttered open.

Jalen waited as Marek moaned and clutched at his head as if in great pain. Eventually, Marek focused on his boots, then travelled higher, until their gazes crossed.

Marek must have seen something dangerous in Jalen’s expression for he blanched. For a moment, his throat worked and no sound came out. Then, finally finding his voice, he whined, “It’s her... I was just trying to help and she attacked me.”

Rage churned in Jalen’s gut, but he only repeated, “I said up.”

When Marek didn’t comply swiftly enough, Jalen grabbed him by the throat and yanked him to his feet. His own strength surprised him; the man felt no heavier than his scimitar. His arm didn’t even strain when he raised the man high enough his feet left the ground.

Marek gasped for breath, clutching at Jalen’s arm.

“That’s not what happened,” Jalen said. He squeezed his hand a little tighter around Marek’s throat. “Who gave you permission to touch my property?”

He threw the man back to the ground and glared down at him. Marek remained prostrate, wheezing for breath, and Jalen quickly lost the last shreds of his patience. “Answer me,” he barked.

“C-curse you,” Marek rasped out, eyes watering in pain.

Jalen’s smirk was pure evil when he answered, “That’s been done already, Marek.”

“L-lording over everyone. Always...getting everything. But you’re fucked now, aren’t you?” Marek got back to his feet with difficulty, but his eyes held defiance and hatred. He spat at Jalen’s feet. “Soon, you’ll be completely mad and we’ll kill you like the dog you are. Then you won’t be able to ‘protect’ that little whore of yours anymore.” Marek grinned at him. “She is quite vocal, isn’t she?”

Anger hotter than fire filled Jalen’s mind. Before he made the conscious decision to do so, his power—magnified by his curse—exploded through his veins and poured into his hands. With a flick of his wrist, he sent Marek crashing into the side of the fountain.

“This time, Marek, you go too far.”

Marek gasped, fear and uncertainty replacing cockiness in his expression. “You can’t do this. I’m her brother.”

He tightened his magical hold on Marek’s lungs squeezing them until he cut off Marek’s airflow completely. Marek’s face turned red, then slowly paled, and finally began to take on a bluish cast. His hands, which were clutching at his chest and throat, fell limply at his side, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Just watch me,” Jalen told him, feeling almost conversational. “Brother or not, I—”

“Jalen, no!” Kadar’s voice broke into Jalen’s trance-like state, and made him hesitate for a moment.

“Don’t interfere,” he warned his friend. He wanted blood and the destruction of those who dared take what was his.

Despite the warning, Kadar walked straight between him and Marek, drawing his sword. “This is the queen’s brother you are about to kill. Don’t do this.”