Free Jacob's Trial [Forbidden Legacy 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Heather Long Page A

for the Council, Wizard Book. You have as little patience for their demands, infighting, and negotiation as I do. You have no intentions of presenting the woman to the Council. In fact, your first thought was most likely how you could avoid such action without having the stigma of a blood feud attached to your name. Your second option, less desirable, was to make her vanish off their radar. You won’t be able to do that unless you fake her death as she is too prominent a figure. That leaves you with the third option…”
    “I’m listening.”
    Beyond their magical signatures, Jacob didn’t recognize the Wizards attending Marcus. They didn’t feel as old as he did, but magic was deceptive and Wizards the masters of deceit. If they chose to cage him, they were positioned perfectly at each of the quarters with Vanagan Marcus occupying true north.
    Calmly. He projected the thought toward the Glashtyn, the being’s violence barely contained. It despised being cornered and nosed the air as though scenting for weakness. The longer he kept Vanagan talking, the more opportunity to probe for weakness.
    Power surged toward him, black marks scorching the pavement. A thunderous ripple split the cement wide at the base of Jacob’s feet as his shields flexed under the assault.
    “I didn’t come all this way to play games, Wizard Book. You carry the stench of the Fae in your pores. You’re not surrendering her to the Council. You have no interest in surrendering her to us. But you have no choice.”
    “How’s that? Considering she’s not here for you to take.” He rolled his left hand through the loose hematite, emptying the smooth stones from their leather pouch. The rocks warmed at his touch, the spell buried within them activating.
    Vanagan gave no overt signal, but power slashed against Jacob’s back. Whips of energy sliced through his shields to cut into the muscles along his spine. Barbs of current dug into his bones, electrifying his blood and sizzling along his nerves. Jaw clenching, black spots danced in Jacob’s vision.
    The power arced, squeezing through his vertebrae and lancing upward to drive daggers of agony into his brain, but he diverted it. His gaze never left Vanagan’s aviator shades, rigid control keeping him upright even as his spine begged to bend, and then the power bled down his arm in a warm river to splash against the hematite in his pocket.
    The rocks began to burn, sucking off the excess like a water pump diverting the flow of power. Domoir’s enraged bellow vibrated the air, and the black steed reared, his black hooves slicing sparks in the air, shredding a net of power flung toward him.
    Unlike the Wizards, the Glashtyn was born to Underhill, his abilities tied to the land that lay just beyond their world. Between one breath and the next, Domoir shimmered, moving between the worlds until he arrived at the Wizard and trampled him.
    Palming the hematite, Jacob went low into a crouch and flung the superheated silver-black pebbles at the Wizard behind him. Charged by the Wizard’s own magic, they burrowed through his shields, shredding them like buckshot through an abdomen. The man collapsed, screaming.
    Continuing his spin, he flung the rest of the stones at Vanagan, their magic exploding between them. Jerking his head left, a ball of pure electricity slammed into the Wizard bracketing that quarter.
    The man went down, power seizing over him like an overcharged net. He twisted and writhed, the power slamming through him to blacken and decimate the cement below. Behind the Wizard, the familiar form of Jude stood like a blazing paladin of old, power wreathing his upraised fists and striking out like lightning generated from a Tesla coil.
    Jacob spared the Wizard a half smile and locked gazes with Vanagan as the fog of stormy, stolen magic between them dissipated. Behind the ancient Wizard, Paul stood with Miller and DuPois on either side. Dalton was close but out of sight. The Wizard’s greatest