United. (Book 5 of the Lupus Antiqua Series)

' The vision began benignly enough, with a party, but it turned dark quickly. Too quickly.

“Very little, thank God." Cadee was saying to Ramaah. "Maybe my understanding is limited compared to yours, but I know it’s one hundred percent wrong to punish an entire race because a few of them are despicable. I may be young, but I’m making more sense than you. I’m not saying you don’t deserve to be biased Ramaah, but your desire for vengeance warps your judgment on this.”

“Centuries!” He growled, all rage now. “For centuries I was tortured, denied food or water or any comforts all because some humans orchestrated my capture simply for existing! If you think you can control me because you are my mate, you are wrong! I will spare no one! No one!” The temperature had dropped by a good fifteen degrees during his tirade. He was radiating destruction and power.

Cadee could feel how wide her eyes were as she watched him lose his temper. This was his reaction to reason? What happened in future when she got mad at him for something and lost it? Is this how he’d respond?

Mike, a lifelong friend of hers, came walking by, and before she could call out a warning before she even realized he was in trouble, Ramaah was in front of him.

Claws shredded flesh like a hot knife through butter. Fangs sank into veins draining blood and rending and tearing. The sounds were horrific but not nearly as horrible as how much Ramaah was enjoying it.

She was frozen. She couldn’t do anything; she couldn’t save him. His screams were terrible. Ramaah dropped him to the ground. He was hamburger. There was nothing recognizable in the mess that was left. The male who’d held her as she slept last night, who’d kissed her had just done this, performed this horror in front of her. Why? To prove a point? For fun? Neither was acceptable.

Her knees hurt. She realized she must have fallen. She was bawling. She hadn’t realized she’d been weeping. Asmodeus was kneeling near her, his hand on her shoulder. He was calling her name she realized, but she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t look away from the tatted remains of someone she’d known since she could remember. Someone she’d loved. Ramaah had turned to look at her, the rage leaving his face and he started moving towards her.

“NO!” She screamed, so loud she was surprised she could make that much noise. He paused and kept coming. All she knew at that moment was blind panic. She scuttled backward, barely making it to her feet. She was terrified of him, of what he’d done, of the fact that she still felt him in her soul despite her fear. She knew he was saying something, but he was covered in her friend’s blood. “Daddy!” She screamed both out loud and in her mind.

Maybe it was an immature reaction, calling for her father. But this time the monster was real, and he wasn’t hiding under her bed. He was covered in blood and trying to come near her. It was a primal reaction, calling for the only real protector she’d ever known. Her father, Demiyen appeared at her side, taking in the scene with a calculating surety, and then looking at her.

“Cadee?” She ran into his arms and buried her face in his chest like when she was little. “Save me, save me please?” He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt the jolt that meant teleportation. The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was the enraged roar of her mate."

***

Strength. Power. Control. Dominance. The traits that a war witch is supposed to embody. Everyone has been spouting those ideals since they arrived here and while those are all good traits to have, Abby is getting a little sick of hearing about it.

And for once, she has a night off. Or at least, she was supposed to. Endymion and she were just sitting down to dinner when the screaming started.

Now they were both running through the compound along with every other person there, all running, running, running toward the main building's basement. Where the Wyrd sisters were staying.

Abby got inside first and was met with one of the sisters, running right into her arms, gibbering like an insane person, eyes wide with fear.

"What's wrong?" Abby asked. But the witch couldn't seem to hear her question. Only then did she realize how young she was. If she didn't know for a fact that the Wyrd sisters were all over the age of 18 she would have clocked this witch at maybe 16 if that.

She was delicate, petite, elfin. Golden hair that fell around her shoulders in natural ringlets, eyes the color of grass in the spring that shone with purity and goodness, features like a porcelain doll and her gentle, sweet voice all pointed at a younger age than what was true. Abby felt the need to protect her and when she met Endymion's gaze over the girl's shoulder she knew he felt the same.

"I'm sorry, but I need to get you calmed down, sweetie." Abby murmured in as soothing a voice as she could manage. Abby released the hold she kept on her power, just a little and she was inside the witch's mind. There were visions and memories tangled and entwined so deeply in the woman, that even Abby had a hard time detangling what was the woman and what were the visions.

But eventually, she actually got through. Except it was just barely. Only just enough that she was able to pinch at the woman's mind just barely enough to pull her back to the forefront.

When she pulled back out, breathing in relief at the sight of sense returning to her eyes.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Abby asked gently. Endymion was kneeling next to them, holding the woman's free hand while Abby held the other. The woman blinked rapidly and smiled gently at them both before awkwardly pulling her hands back.

"I'm so sorry. It was the trauma of the vision. Of my sisters I am least gifted at dealing with traumatic visions. It got the best of me, I am so sorry." Her voice caught and trembled when she caught site of the other people filtering in looking concerned.

"It's okay. What scared you so much?"

"The Nephilim King..." She whispered. "He eviscerated an innocent man in the street today, right in front of his mate. It was horrific and I panicked. My sisters couldn't calm me because they were caught up in it too."

"So is he moving then, finally?" Endymion asked, voice quiet. Tense. He and his fur and fang gang had been training to fight on the ground, and training the various packs that had been coming in.

"We don't know yet. This seemed more like he lost his temper, but we all have great cause to be concerned. If that is what the Nephilim King does when he's annoyed, what will he do for his vengeance?" She whispers that last part.

The terror in her eyes and the weight of what she's saying fills Abby with a dread so powerful it shakes her to her core. And when she looks up and meets Endymion's gaze, she can tell he feels the same way.