Free Remnants of Magic by S. Ravynheart, S.A. Archer

flat voice. Not even close to the kind of rage burning in Malcolm. The kind of rage Malcolm thought Kieran should feel.
    “You say you’re ready to go on missions. You think you’re ready to fight to defend the fey? Prove it!” Donovan flung the human to the ground before him. She landed hard, getting her hands down in front of her just in time to keep from face-planting. Her fearful eyes lifted, flicking to the Sidhe standing over her.
    Kieran crouched down, smirking in that cocky way of his, like he was flirting with her. “This is the part where you run.”
    “Ya think?” The woman got to her feet, raising her hands like she was all harmless, when Malcolm knew different.
    The others had magic that could zap her right here and now. Malcolm waited, wondering which one would get her, wishing hard as ever that he had a brilliant magic. She’d already be a sizzling puddle of goo on the floor if he did.
    But the others didn’t do anything. Donovan told them to kill her and they just stood there like sheep.
    The human edged toward the door.
    Malcolm cut her off. The boss said kill her. There wasn’t anything Malcolm wanted to do more. Magic or no magic, this chick wasn’t just walking out of here.
    The woman froze.
    Who was the prey now? His lips curled back with his fury and disgust. She wanted to steal from him? Never again. Malcolm slid the knife from its sheath. If he’d had a cool magic, she’d already be fried. Or exploded. Or whatever gruesomely hateful thing he could do with it. Might not have a spectacular magic, but he bloody well had one heck of a knife.
    “Easy now.” She gave him a sweet, aren’t-we-friends smile. “Remember me? Remember our kiss? You don’t want to hurt me.”
    How dare she?
    How dare she even speak of it?
    How dare she pretend it was anything but what it was?
    All his hate, all his wrath for all that time exploded inside him. Words meant nothing. The scream that ripped from him was all he could conjure. Malcolm lunged at her, knife slashing.
    She raced around a table, avoiding him. Every time he plunged for her, she retreated, keeping the furniture between them. Malcolm wanted her dead. Now! He jumped onto a chair and then the table, throwing himself down onto her.
    He realized too late that she was ready for him, lifting up a chair so the crossing bars between the legs caught him in the chest. She heaved him up and over her head, using his momentum to fling him away from her.
    Malcolm crashed into a table, shattering the glasses before the whole table tipped and knocked him into chairs and fey who couldn’t get out of his way. The physical pain from the crash landing was nothing compared to the pain on the inside. The pain that he could never get out of him. The pain he’d make her feel. Hurt her until she understood what terror and agony really were.
    Others yelled and scuffled about, but Malcolm couldn’t see what was happening. Then there was the sound of fireballs exploding. Malcolm grabbed his knife and shoved his way between the fey, rushing back toward the fight.
    Kieran rolled on the ground, grabbing his throat. The fire exit door was open, slowly closing on the hydraulic spring. The human got out! Bryce rushed for the door and Malcolm stayed hot on his heels. Out in the alley, they dodged around Trip, another casualty writhing in pain. The lads didn’t slow down to check on her. They raced each other after the human, gaining ground with each stride.
    They’d have caught her too, if she’d not rushed from the back streets out into the open. The woman collided with some pedestrians, only stopping long enough to steady herself and look back.
    Malcolm didn’t care. He wanted her dead. Dead forever. Dead and never going to hurt him or any other Sidhe ever again.
    Bryce snagged his arm and jerked him back. “No, mate! Come on. Give it up.”
    “No!” Malcolm snarled, jerking his arm, but couldn’t break Bryce’s hold. “Let me go!”
    “Not in public, mate. You