The warriors shouted, cursed, began to back away as the insidious smoke clawed and crawled its way across the floor and walls. Mathias himself was likely here.
“Go now!” Duke shouted.
Ice didn’t wait to be told twice. With Bram on his shoulder, he dashed to the back door, then pressed an urgent hand to the small of Sabelle’s back. “Grab your backpack. Ease out the door. Stay in shadow. We’ve got two minutes, at most.”
She sent him a shaky nod, but didn’t panic. “Lucan?”
Who gives a shit? After losing his mate, the bastard thought to use Sabelle because she was beautiful, kind, and convenient? “Right behind us.”
With a nod, she grabbed her belongings. “We’re safe for the moment. Bram had more protection here, just in case we ever needed to escape.”
Good to know. Still, as Ice opened the door, he checked to make certain no Anarki had made their way around the massive estate. He couldn’t see any, but he could hear them, attacking Bram’s weakened magical defenses, zapping and gnashing their way ever closer to the Doomsday Brethren’s fallback position at the back door.
Ice urged Sabelle onto the terrace, in the shadow provided by the overhang, then slid out behind her, covering her body with his own. The December chill wrapped around him in welcome, and he thrived on the bite against his skin. Snow was beginning to fall. He hoped the Anarki bastards were having a miserable time. He’d be happy to speed the process along if they threatened his Sabelle.
Damn it, she isn’t yours. Ice shushed the unwelcome voice in his head, then wrapped an arm around her to guide her into the terrace’s corner while laying Bram at her feet in case he needed both hands to fight. With concrete at her back and sides, he could protect her. Holding his back to her, he pinned her against the wall and scanned for potential threats, watching as Marrok, olivia, and Tynan poured out of the house. They took a few steps forward before the wizard grabbed the other two and teleported them away. Sydney and Caden followed.
Where the hell was Lucan? The prick had ten seconds before Ice left him to his own defenses.
Duke stumbled through the door, dragging an injured Lucan behind him, who was now bloody from head to toe.
Behind him, Sabelle gasped and tried to wriggle free. Ice whirled on her and mercilessly flattened her to the wall with his body, pressing her deep into the corner. “Can’t you hear the Anarki? They’re nearly upon us. You are not rushing through the danger to tend MacTavish.”
“But he may need—”
“He is a full-fledged wizard with others around who can care for him. He’ll escape.”
“But I’ve been caring for him since Anka . . .”
Something on his face must have shown his fury and the soul-deep willpower he used to squeeze it down. He’d known that Sabelle had become MacTavish’s willing carnal sacrifice as he healed, and it lit a fire of jealousy and hatred in his gut. Lucan loved Anka still, but he’d use Sabelle’s body, her sweetness and softness, for his own ends. The bloody shit of it was that Sabelle encouraged him. Because she loved him? Ice knew Sabelle would never be his, but he’d be damned if he stood by and watched Lucan use her.
“Would you rather have Lucan die or the Doomsday Diary fall into Mathias’s hands?”
She drew in a shuddering breath, and the feel of her breasts against his chest was damn near his undoing. But this wasn’t the time or place. There never would be one.
“You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking.” Her breath misted the cold air, and he wanted to kiss her so desperately. He didn’t dare.
“Ice!” Duke called through the dark chill.
Damn it! He pinned Lord High-and-Mighty with a stare and a raised brow.
“The Anarki is through the door and into the house. That gray smoke is everywhere. Take Sabelle and go. Lucan is too injured to be anything but a liability to you now. I’ll bring him with me.”
Best notion he’d heard all day. “Let’s go, princess.”
He grabbed her around the waist. She clutched his wrists and, panting, tried to pull him away. “Where?”
Ice knew of many remote places between here and his boyhood home. He could find a million places to hide—and stay hidden as long as necessary to ensure Sabelle stayed safe.
“Anyplace they’re not.”
Curling his arm more tightly around her waist, Ice tried not to think about how perfectly she fit against him, how soft her breasts felt cushioning his chest, how easy it would be to curl one hand under her backside and urge her legs around his waist as he rode her . . .
Not happening, he chided himself.
Focusing on Wye Valley in the Welsh Mountains, he willed himself, Sabelle, and Bram there. His knees left him as darkness and a keen sense of weightless disorientation swallowed him. But he was conscious of his arm around Sabelle, of her clinging to him as he hoisted Bram’s limp form.
Moments later, the ground rushed up under them, and they landed in a heap within a cluster of trees, the river trickling nearby. Lights from the adjoining village glowed in the distance
Ice helped Sabelle to her feet and began leading her in the opposite direction. “Are you all right?”
In the silvery moonlight, she nodded, all those pale curls of hers shimmering around her face, cupping her breasts. “Where are we?”
Not a good idea to think about her breasts now—or ever. “Herefordshire. I know it well. Let’s go.”
Ice secured Bram over his shoulder, took her hand, and hauled her deeper into the copse of trees. If memory served him, there was an abandoned house built into the nearby hillside. It would be easy to defend and should shelter them for the night. After he reestablished communication with Duke and the others, they could decide on a rendezvous point.
They’d taken only a handful of steps under the shelter of the trees when he heard a whoosh! behind him.
“Where are they?” a deep voice boomed. “Find them. The spell Rhea cast on the book told us that it’s been transported here. Spread out!”
Mathias. Motherfucking hell. The evil bastard himself had given chase. Not good.
Evidently Rhea, Mathias’s witch, had put a spell on the diary. The Anarki would know the Doomsday Diary’s exact location as soon as someone teleported with the book.
Question was, could the spell track them as easily on foot?
Sabelle gave the tiniest of gasps, and Ice gripped her hand more tightly and ran faster, hoping she could keep up. If she couldn’t, he’d carry her—whatever was needed for her and the Doomsday Diary to stay safe. Despite the fact his legs were longer, Sabelle stayed with him, every step. His admiration for her went up another notch.
Quietly, they zigzagged around trees, gradually turning toward the abandoned house. They couldn’t stay there now, of course. Likely the first place the Anarki would look. He and Sabelle would have to keep going.