17. Amber

Lucas’s handfreezes on the key, his head whipping toward the sound.

Then, before I can process what’s happening, he kicks the door open, pulling me inside and throwing me against the wall with a force that leaves no room for resistance.

The impact knocks the air out of my lungs, and I collapse to the floor in a heap.

As quickly as possible, I glance around to get an idea of the space I’m working with. Because one of the important lessons Viktor taught me?

Always be aware of your surroundings.

The apartment is small and dimly lit, the furnishings minimal. There’s a window on the far end that leads out to a fire escape. A table and two wooden chairs are next to a few old kitchen appliances, and an unmade bed—well, a mattress on the floor—sits beneath the window.

The door slams shut.

I reach for my sun magic and throw it at Lucas, but he holds up his dagger and blocks it.

“You lied,” he snarls, his face contorting into a mask of betrayal and pain. “You tried to play me.”

“I didn’t,” I lie right back at him, reaching for one of the daggers stashed in my boots. “I have no idea how they found me.”

“Enough!” He moves in a blur, and his hand finds my arm that’s holding my dagger, pulling me toward him with unexpected force.

I twist, trying to break free, but Lucas’s strength is overwhelming. I cant move my arm, leaving me unable to reach the dagger in my other boot from this position.

“You used my weakness against me.” His breath is hot in my ear, and despite my training, he’s stronger than I am.

I can’t move.

Reaching for my magic again, I pull it up so it rises to where he’s touching me. The heat isn’t as strong as I’ve been able to create before, but it should be enough to shock him and give me the upper hand.

The heat meets Lucas’s skin where he grips my arm, and I push, forcing every ounce of it out at him.

He hisses in pain, followed by a reflexive release.

Now’s my chance.

I twist out of his grip, adrenaline surging, and reach into my boot for my other dagger.

He recovers quickly, eyes narrowed, the burn marks on his skin already healing as he blocks my attempted blow.

“You’ve got spirit, Amber,” he snarls. “I’ll give you that.”

I need to get to the door. Then I can get out of here and find the others.

“I swear I was telling the truth.” I widen my eyes in what I hope looks like innocence, begging him to believe me before he kicks me back into the wall.

I gasp, catching my breath, and add, “You have to believe me. Please.”

“I don’t have to believe anything.”

The hatred in his eyes makes it clear that his anger has pushed past the charms of the lustberry.

From my position right now, I’ll have to go through him to get to either the door or the window.

So, I feint with my dagger, trying to find a path out. But Lucas is good. No, he’s better than good—he fights in a way that’s dirty, raw, and street smart. He’s trained to use his speed, strength, and weapons instead of his weak air magic.

Still, I use my training well enough to hold my own.

Then, finally, I have an opening.

Seizing the opportunity, I pounce, dagger poised to drive it through his chest.

He moves quickly.

The edge of the dagger nicks his skin, drawing a line of blood. But before I can strike again, he uses my momentum against me, twisting, turning, and suddenly I’m backed into a corner, my weapon knocked away and skittering across the floor.

I need my sun magic. But it’s like lightning in a storm, refusing to stay still for long enough to be captured.

“There’s one more thing you should know, Star Touched,” he says as he tightens his hold on my wrists, pinning me to the wall, his face inches from mine. “I can get that potion out of you and into the compass.”

I glare at him and squirm under his grip. “You’re lying.”

“Kill me, and you’ll never find out.” His eyes glint with challenge, and he leers down at me, licking his lips. “But why should I kill you when I can claim you?”

Panic flutters in my chest. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, his fangs graze the skin on my neck, a sharp pain piercing through me as he bites down.

Agony rushes through me, followed by an unexpected urge to relax.

I try to scream, but I can’t.

Instead, I gather what’s left of my sun magic. But it’s slipping through my fingers like sand. Lucas’s mouth is on my neck, drinking, and every pull feels like it’s drawing more than just blood—it’s draining my magic and sapping my strength.

“Stop,” I whisper, but my voice is barely audible, even to my own ears.

I feel myself being pushed onto the mattress, Lucas’s weight pinning me down with ease, his fangs still buried in my neck.

This can’t be happening.

My eyes dart around the room, searching for a way out.

The window.

It’s above the mattress.

If I can just…

Desperation claws at me, and I summon my magic, hoping to push him away with a burst of solar energy.

It’s weak, barely a flicker, and Lucas merely tightens his grip and drinks deeper in response.

The room dims. I’m losing consciousness, my body unable to sustain itself under the strength of his body and my magic fading away.

But I have more than just sun magic and physical strength.

If the plan worked—which I assume it did, given the screams that are getting louder at the end of the hall—then the others are here.

Damien is here.

The duskberry bond.

With the last bit of strength I have, I open the door between our souls and throw every emotion through it as possible.

Fear. Pain. Anger. Frustration. Weakness.

Help me, I think, even though words don’t carry through the bond—only emotions.

It’s a last-ditch effort, but I have to try. And I keep trying, and trying, for as long as I possibly can.

Somehow, miraculously, I separate my mind from Lucas’s continued attack and open myself fully to the bond.

This needs to work.

It has to work.

Then, as the world fades into darkness, someone screams my name from the hall.

Damien.

In seconds, Lucas is no longer crushing me.

The door hits the wall with a loud crack as it’s busted open.

“Amber,” Damien says my name in horror, and he’s by my side in an instant. His arms surround me, and he props me up, examining the bite on my neck that I can already feel closing. “Lucas… he did this to you.”

He says it in shock, as if he can’t believe it.

Then, his eyes go to the window. It’s wide open, the wind blowing through it like a bad omen. He gets up, places his hands on the windowsill, and sticks his head through it, searching for Lucas.

“He’s gone,” he growls, and then he adds, “I’m going to kill him.”

“No.” I join him, also looking out the window and finding no trace of Lucas. “I’m going to kill him.”

He refocuses on me, and I can see how torn he is as he decides whether to jump through the window and chase after Lucas, or to stay by my side.

He chooses the latter.

“I can’t believe he did this,” he murmurs, tracing the already closed wound on my neck. His voice is a mix of anger and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. There’s anger, yes, but also fear, relief, and an intensity I’ve never seen before. It’s as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of us, the noise of the city a distant hum as we each stand here plotting our revenge.

“Damien,” I say, flashing back to everything that happened since I walked into that park. “He has the compass. He said he can help me get my?—”

I stop myself a second before telling him that Lucas said he can help me get my magic back.

Because Damien doesn’t know I’m losing my magic. And this right now—the two of us in Lucas’s lair as the fight continues somewhere far down the hall—is hardly the right place to tell him.

“He can help you what?” he asks, searching my eyes for answers.

“He can get the potion out of my system and into the compass.”

There’s a pause between us as Damien soaks in my words, and for a moment, I worry he’s going to question me further.

“We’ll figure it out.” His hand moves from my neck to cup my cheek, his thumb gently caressing my skin.

The warmth from his touch spreads through me, comforting and electrifying and needed after what just happened with Lucas, and I lean in, closing my eyes to savor it. The bond is still open, and I’m sure Damien can feel what his touch of his is doing to me, just as I can feel what touching me is doing to him.

When I open my eyes again, he’s closer, his face inches from mine. The air between us crackles with tension, questions hanging in the balance. It’s like the bond is buzzing between us, pulling us closer with a force neither of us can resist.

I don’t want to resist.

But just as the distance between us starts to close, a sound from the hallway snaps us back to reality, and a figure appears in the doorway.

Yannick.

“We need to move,” he says, his voice snapping Damien and I out of the bond’s trance. “Now.”

Damien pulls back, the spell broken, but the intensity in his gaze remains. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he promises, and with the bond closed and my blood replenishing itself, everything is sharper and clearer.

Lucas is gone.

We failed.

“How’s the rest of the group doing?” Damien asks Yannick.

“The Guardians are driving the vampires out—not killing them,” Yannick says, which is no surprise. The Guardians are here to kill Lucas. Not to break supernatural law by leaving as many casualties as possible in their wake.

“We’ll leave that way.” Damien motions toward the open window. “Out the fire escape.”

Damien goes first, and he helps me through, Yannick following us out. The building’s on a quiet street, so there aren’t many people nearby to watch as we head down the stairs of the fire escape in broad daylight.

Plus, it’s New York. Those who do see us stop for only a few seconds, and they don’t approach and question us. They simply keep walking and continue with their day.

But it’s not just because New Yorkers mind their own business. It’s also because humans instinctively know better than to get in the way of supernaturals.

As we make our way down the rickety iron stairs, Damien’s hand finds mine in a silent reassurance that no matter what lies ahead, we face it together.

And after what Lucas just did to me, I know with certainty that we’re going to find him and tear him apart until he’s begging us to end his life and put him out of his misery forever.