Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

RONAN

R onan's nostrils flared as Savannah's scent filled the air—the sharp smell of the ocean combined with sweet jasmine layered with the tang of magic. It lingered where the portal had closed, just out of reach. His muscles tensed, instinct warring within him. He could feel the beast inside, itching to track Savannah down, to hunt. Yet another instinct simmered just beneath the surface, one he couldn't ignore—the fae standing beside him.

Lilith Silverwing. The Fae Council's favorite enforcer. If the council had sent her after the Duvalls, maybe their mates would see to curbing their reckless interference in the mortal world.

Ronan hated the fae. It had started years ago when he was younger and far more trusting. His clan had formed an alliance with a fae court to protect their territory. The fae promised peace and mutual protection, a partnership built on trust—or so Ronan had thought. But when a rogue band of shifters infected with dark magic had come to the bayou, the fae had abandoned his people, leaving them defenseless in the face of a powerful enemy. Every one of his clan but him had been killed. The fae had vanished, leaving Ronan and his people to be slaughtered.

That betrayal wasn't just an isolated incident; it was a reflection of the way the fae forged alliances in such a way as to leave a loophole for them to not uphold their end of a bargain. It was inherent in the tricky way they framed their promises. Semantics were important to the fae. As long as they technically upheld their end, they saw no problem with leaving an ally to face an adversary alone. The incident left Ronan with a deep mistrust of the fae. To him, they were cold, calculating creatures who wielded their magic like a weapon and cared nothing for the lives they destroyed in the process.

He wanted to growl in frustration. This fae wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to matter. And yet, she did. She had disrupted everything. His sabretooth-sharp senses couldn't shake her presence, and it wasn't just the scent of her fae magic that had his attention. No, something else was gnawing at him, something deep and primal. His beast stirred inside, recognizing her on some level that made no sense.

He couldn't afford distractions. His instincts screamed at him to confront her, to question what the hell a fae warrior was doing in his city, tracking the same fae. But he couldn't deny the other feeling swirling around in his gut—a flicker of something dangerous, something primal.

A fae? His fated mate was a fucking fae? The idea lodged in his throat like a jagged piece of glass.

Fate was a fickle bitch, and now, in addition, it seemed she had an especially twisted sense of humor.

Ronan's golden eyes slid toward Lilith, watching the way she scanned the alley, her movements fluid, every muscle coiled in readiness. Her violet eyes flickered with sharp focus, her lips set in a thin line of ruthless dedication to the job. She was beautiful—fierce, untouchable—and dangerous. Everything about her screamed ‘keep out,' yet something in him wanted to defy it, to claim her in ways that sent a shudder down his spine and made his cock harden at the thought of what it might be like to have her pinned beneath him.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his beast back down. Now was not the time. His pulse thrummed with the need to act, to move, and yet his tiger prowled within him, snarling as he paced, drawn to her like a magnet.

"You're wasting time," Lilith snapped, her voice tight with impatience.

Ronan growled low in his throat, the deep sound vibrating through his chest. "I'm not wasting time, fae. I'm deciding whether I should ditch you and handle this on my own."

Lilith spun to face him, her violet eyes blazing with anger, but there was something else there too—something she wasn't letting show. Ronan could feel it, like heat radiating off her. "You'll lose Savannah if you try that, and we both know it," she said coldly. "I need you, and you need me. Don't you want them out of your city? I'd think you'd want to help get rid of them."

The tension between them sizzled, hot and dangerous. He knew she was right, and that pissed him off even more. The Duvall sisters were dangerous in their own right, and Savannah was the slippery one. If they were going to catch her—and find out why she was summoning portals in the dead of night—they needed each other.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Ronan shoved down the urge to argue. He couldn't afford to be distracted by the storm of emotions rising in him. They had a job to do. Handle the Duvall sisters first. Deal with Lilith later.

"Fine," he ground out, his voice like gravel. "Temporary truce. But don't think for a second I trust you."

Lilith smirked, though there was no humor in it. "I wouldn't dream of it, shifter, and for the record I don't trust you, either."

They locked eyes for a beat longer, the air between them thick and heavy with unspoken tension. Ronan felt the muscles in his neck coil tight, every inch of him vibrating with the need to move. Finally, with a curt nod, they turned together and started moving through the shadows of the alley, feet crunching on the gravel beneath them as they picked up the hunt once again.

The night around them was alive with sound—the distant thrum of music, laughter spilling out of the bars, and the ever-present hum of magic that pulsed in this city like a second heartbeat. The French Quarter was a maze of shadowy alleys and ancient architecture, the perfect hunting ground for the supernatural. Here, the night could hide anything—or anyone.

Ronan kept his senses honed, his gaze scanning the darkness, but it was Savannah's scent that guided him. It was fading too quickly, and they needed to move faster if they wanted to catch up. His mind raced with possibilities, calculating, planning. He'd been hunting the sisters for weeks, leaving his beloved home in the bayou, and now one of them was slipping through his fingers.

But every time his focus slipped back to Lilith, the primal pull inside him flared again, like a match igniting a flame.

His beast recognized her. She was fae, for fuck's sake. How could she be his fated mate? He gritted his teeth, trying to push the thought away, but it clung to him, invading his mind in ways he didn't want to acknowledge.

"How long have you been tracking them?" Lilith's voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and cold.

Ronan glanced at her as they raced down another alley. "Long enough," he muttered. "They've been stirring up shit all over New Orleans. Too bold, too reckless. And now, I'm guessing they've pissed off someone higher up the fae chain if you're here."

"You could say that." Her voice was clipped, but there was something guarded beneath the words, something she wasn't telling him. Not that it mattered. He didn't need her secrets—just her cooperation.

The alley narrowed ahead, the shadows growing deeper. Savannah's scent was weaker now, harder to follow, but Ronan wasn't giving up. He could feel the pulse of the city's magic, the way it twisted and flowed around them, thickening in places and fading in others. The Duvalls were good at covering their tracks, but not good enough. Sometimes it could be difficult to track a specific sister as their magical signatures appeared all over the city.

"I'm picking up Phoenix's magic now," Lilith said suddenly, her voice taut. "It's close."

Ronan's head snapped toward her, his senses on high alert. Phoenix was the wildcard, unpredictable and dangerous. If she was nearby, things were about to get interesting—and not in a good way.

"You sure?" he asked, his golden eyes narrowing.

"Positive," she answered, her eyes flashing.

They were close. Ronan's heart pounded in his chest, the chase heating his blood. But even as his beast surged forward, eager for the hunt, he couldn't shake the feeling that this fae—Lilith—was going to complicate things in ways he hadn't expected.

And the worst part? A small part of him didn't mind at all.

They moved together, side by side, their footsteps quick and quiet against the gravel as they chased the fading trail of Savannah's magic into the heart of New Orleans.

Fate, it seemed, was just getting started with them.

T he scent of old iron and damp wood filled Ronan's nostrils as they approached the abandoned warehouse. Savannah's fading scent had led them here, along with something darker, more dangerous. He stopped just outside the entrance, his senses flaring as he took in the scene ahead. The air was thick with tension, and the low murmur of voices echoed from within the warehouse's decaying walls.

Savannah was inside, her magic flickering like a weak flame, and with it, the unmistakable presence of vampires. The stench of death, rot, and old blood clung to the air, pungent and suffocating. Ronan felt his muscles coil, his beast stirring restlessly beneath his skin. He didn't like fae, but he disliked vampires even more. The sabretooth inside him was ready, eager for the fight. His protective instincts flared hotter than before.

He shot a glance at Lilith. She stood beside him, poised and calm, though he could see the hard edge in her eyes. Her violet gaze flickered toward him briefly, acknowledging the danger ahead. They hadn't spoken much since their tense truce, but now wasn't the time for words. They both knew what was at stake as they slipped inside.

As they crept closer, Ronan's eyes narrowed, the golden glow intensifying as he strained to hear the voices. It wasn't just any vampire they were dealing with; it was Julien Crowe.

The vampire crime lord's voice was low and dangerous, tinged with amusement. "You've caused quite a bit of trouble, Savannah Duvall," he purred, his words dripping with malice. "Killing Vesper Nightshade was bold, even for a half-breed like you. The vampires of New Orleans don't take kindly to losing their queen."

Savannah didn't show any fear as she said, "She started it. She was planning to pull down the walls between the realms and release the demons. I didn't have any choice."

Julien's chuckle echoed through the hollow warehouse, cold and cruel. "Choices have consequences, my dear. And now, you'll answer for them."

They watched as Julien Crowe moved with the predatory grace of a seasoned killer, his body a blur as he darted around Savannah's defensive moves. The water magic she hurled at him sliced through the night, sharp as blades, but the vampire twisted through the air like smoke, avoiding each strike with terrifying ease. He grinned, a dark and hungry smile, as he closed the distance between them.

Savannah threw up a wall of water in desperation, the moisture rippling in the air, but Julien's speed was relentless. He crashed through the barrier in a blink, scattering droplets around them like shattered glass. Before Savannah could react, he was behind her—his cold, iron grip locking around her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back with brutal force.

A cry of pain escaped Savannah's lips as Julien jerked her arm higher, making her cry out and forcing her to drop her guard. Her magic seemed to fizzle. He spun her around and slammed her back against the wall.

"You're good, little fae," Julien murmured, his voice low and mocking, his pale face inches from hers. "But not good enough."

His hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of her spiky blue hair and wrenching her head back, exposing the vulnerable curve of her throat. Savannah struggled, kicking out wildly, but Julien was too strong—too fast. His crimson eyes glinted with satisfaction, the promise of death lingering on his lips as he leaned closer.

"This is what you get for killing our queen," he hissed, his fangs scraping lightly against her neck. "Vesper should've killed you when she had the chance. But don't worry—I'll finish what she started."

Savannah's magic flared again, born of rage. Droplets of water gathered from the humid air, condensing into sharp needles that rained down on Julien's back, embedding in his flesh with a wet, sickening sound. He hissed in pain, but instead of retreating, he drove his knee into her stomach with brutal force.

The air rushed from Savannah's lungs in a choked gasp. For a moment it seemed that the strength had fled from her limbs as they seemed heavy and sluggish. Julien took advantage of the moment, twisting her arm behind her again and slamming her face-first into brick.

"Pathetic," he whispered, tightening his grip on her. "All that power, and you still fall like a human."

From somewhere deep inside Savannah, a spark seemed to ignite even as her body struggled against Julien's strength. Her magic seemed to respond to that spark, flickering back to life. The air thickened with moisture, the scent of saltwater and storms filling the night.

Julien's fangs grazed her neck, and for a terrifying moment, Ronan feared he had waited too long. Feeling a growl rise in his throat, his protective instincts roared to life. He didn't give a damn about Savannah or her demon lover or even that stopping Vesper had been necessary. All that mattered was the protector inside him, ready to defend against the threat looming over them. His gaze shifted back to Lilith. She stood tense, her hand hovering near the hilt of her blade.

"We need to move now," Lilith hissed, her voice urgent.

Ronan's beast surged within him, clawing at the surface, demanding to be unleashed. Every fiber of his being screamed to protect, to tear Julien Crowe apart and leave nothing but carnage in his wake. His control slipped, the line between man and beast blurring as his body trembled with the impending shift.

"I won't let her die," Ronan growled, his voice thick with the edge of his transformation. "Not here. Not like this."

Lilith shot him a sharp look, but there was no time to argue. Ronan's form erupted, his shift tearing through him in a storm of raw power. The transformation was a violent maelstrom of thunder, lightning, and color. It crackled as it swirled around him filled with magic as flesh and bone gave way to muscle and fur, reshaping him in a flash of primal energy and magic.

In moments, the man was gone, replaced by a massive sabretooth tiger, his golden eyes glowing with the feral light of his beast. The transformation left the air charged with electricity, and for a brief moment, everything was still.

Then chaos erupted.

Ronan charged into the warehouse, a blur of muscle, fur, and unbridled fury. His claws tore into the ground, sending splinters of wood flying as he launched himself at Julien's lackeys. The vampires barely had time to react before Ronan was upon them, his massive frame taking one of them to the ground with a sickening thud. His jaws clamped down on the nearest vampire's throat, ripping it apart with savage efficiency as Lilith followed behind him, removing the head altogether.

Julien's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered, his fanged smile stretching across his face. "So, the shifter joins the fray. How quaint."

Savannah's terrified gaze darted between Ronan's sabretooth form and Julien. She looked small and fragile compared to the looming threat of the vampire crime lord, her usually vibrant magic seeming to withdraw like a wave pulling back from the shore.

Lilith followed Ronan's charge, her sword flashing through the dim light as she sliced through the nearest vampire lackey with ease. But as the fight raged around them, Ronan's attention remained locked on Julien.

The vampire's smile was taunting, filled with dark promises. "You think you can protect her?" Julien hissed, his voice low and venomous. "I'll tear her apart in front of you."

Ronan let out a furious roar, his massive form barreling toward Julien, but just as he was about to strike, more vampires swarmed him. Their speed and strength were no match for his primal power, but they were relentless, clawing at his fur, sinking their fangs into him wherever they could find purchase.

He roared again, a sound that shook the very walls of the warehouse, but the numbers were overwhelming. One by one, they piled onto him, trying to bring him down.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lilith standing at the crossroads of a terrible decision. Her eyes flicked between him and Savannah, who was cornered, her back pressed against the wall, Julien closing in on her. The choice was clear—capture the fae as ordered, or save Ronan from being overwhelmed by the bloodthirsty swarm.

Ronan snarled, blood dripping from his maw as he struggled to stay on his feet. The pain of fangs sinking into him was real, but not as sharp as the panic that flared in his chest. Would she leave him?

Lilith hesitated. It was only for a second, but it was enough for him to see the crack in her hardened exterior. Her normally cold, calculating eyes flickered with indecision and with something else. A part of her cared—more than she wanted to admit. She watched as Savannah took advantage of her moment of indecision, unfurled her wings and managed to lift off, escaping into the sky.

"Lilith!" he growled, initiating the mating bond—it wasn't as strong as it would be once he claimed her, but it was strong enough to reach her, his voice rough even in his animal form.

Her face hardened, and in a blur of motion, she made her choice. With a furious battle cry, Lilith sliced through the vampires swarming Ronan. Her blade was a blur of silver light, severing heads from bodies, stabbing deep into hearts with deadly precision. She moved with lethal grace, her magic crackling in the air as she fought her way to him, cutting down anyone who dared stand in her path.

In mere moments, the vampires that had been overwhelming Ronan were reduced to ash and blood-soaked ruin.

Ronan shifted back to his human form, panting heavily, his body battered but alive. His golden eyes locked onto Lilith's, and for a moment, the warehouse seemed to still around them. The tension between them crackled like the remnants of magic in the air.

"You could've had her," Ronan rasped, his voice low and raw.

Lilith's jaw tightened. "I couldn't let you die," she muttered, though the words sounded like they cost her more than she wanted to admit.

The connection between them, that primal pull, was stronger now, undeniable.

"Well, that's rather awkward. I shall bid you adieu, sabretooth," said Julien as he burst into dozens of black shards and disappeared completely. Why couldn't vampires use a less dramatic way to take themselves out of a situation?

Ronan's blood boiled, the beast inside him roaring to be unleashed once more. But this time, it wasn't just about the hunt or the fight. It was something deeper, something rawer, but before he could act on it, Lilith had disappeared, as well.

He stood in the aftermath of chaos, blood, and magic and shook his head. He needed to get away before somebody reported something and the cops showed up. He slipped out the back as he heard sirens rapidly approaching and headed in the direction of The Thorny Rose. He needed a drink. It had been one hell of a day.