The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 31

No emotions showed on Kiran's face as he let the body fall to the ground. He likely died after the first two hits into the wall, but the prince wanted this nymph's head to come off his shoulders.

Rolling his shoulders, Kiran began pacing. Then with a choked laugh, he tugged on his hair with both hands like he was working on composing himself.

Imani felt mesmerized, watching his muscles tense with his wild gaze dragging over the room. His chest was heaving, covered in blood splotches, scrubbing his hands down his face, looking both devastating and positively insane.

Actually, Imani knew without a doubt that the man was positively insane. It didn't take a master witch to see that fact.

She fought a crazed urge to close the distance between them—a sick, despicable notion.

Brushing his hair off his brow and wiping blood off his face, he stared at the bodies around him just as another fool stepped in. This unknown nymph instantly stilled, looking with his mouth open at the blood, down at Imani, and up at Kiran.

Kiran rolled his eyes. "Are all Naiads this stupid?" He asked no one in particular, reaching for his wand as he tried to turn and run. But Kiran sliced off his legs with one swipe, and the nymph fell.

The prince strolled over and cocked his head to the side at his sobs and screams. Then laughed again and winked at him. "I did warn you that you and your brothers should have never made this deal with me if you couldn't keep your mouths shut."

He blasted a hole through the man's face with his magic, and again, the blood splattered onto his face. He groaned in irritation once more at the mess before turning to Imani.

She'd watched scenes like this before. It didn't happen often, but violence was unavoidable if you sold magic. But her current situation with the princes was far more dangerous than she'd wanted to admit. And it made her afraid. Not because she was afraid to die at their hands—she wasn't scared to die—but because it made her stomach drop at what her kingdom would face.

The fact that Kiran made a deal with the sons of a High Sentinel, then murdered them seemingly on a whim in his room in Essenheim's palace, told her just how little the Crown threatened them and how deep the Niflheim Kingdom had infiltrated.

Two choices laid out in front of Imani now—tell Tanyl and expose herself or keep quiet and let the Niflheim Kingdom continue tightening the noose around their neck. Neither of which sat well with her.

Ripping off his bloodstained shirt, the elf prince continued ignoring her, even while she crept closer and openly studied the multitude of markings and scars covering his body, surprised and mildly shocked.

Witches collected brands like this all over their bodies the longer they practiced magic. The only spells that didn't leave a mark were illusion ones. Hundreds of defensive spells, enhancement spells, and mate bindings were burned into the skin somewhere when the magic embedded inside a signature.

Over the years, Imani had seen all kinds of low breeds working for the large covens, and most had bodies like Kiran's, covered in nasty markings—brands from binding magic mostly—but also various scars everywhere. Hell, even her own body had more binding brands and marks than most high-breed females, but he was a prince.

"Still breaking into my rooms, I see." His voice shattered the strange silence between them. "I've killed people for less."

The warning slithered over her. A logical response would have been to stay still, give Kiran the information he wanted, then try to get out of there quickly.

She was starting to understand Kiran better and knew that wouldn't keep her safe from him.

Without a thought, she drew herself up to her full height, as insubstantial as it was, and let her magic signature surround her before sauntering to stand before him. Her hands ran up and down his arms almost of their own accord.