CHAPTER 164
"Marcus, Hold the kid." Marcus didn't hesitate. The vampire moved with grace, appearing behind Alaric before the boy could even blink.
Pale, iron-cold fingers clamped down on Alaric's shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides.
Alaric's skin crawled at the touch— "Hey! Get your hands off—" Alaric began, his voice rising in a panic.
He tried to lunge forward, his bare feet digging into the dirt, desperate to reach Clara, to make her look at him with something other than that freezing boredom.
But he never finished the sentence. The world tilted. One second, Alaric was staring at the emerald flames of the eastern woods and the twisted, snarling face of Rohan.
The next, the horizon buckled. The ground beneath his feet vanished, replaced by a sensation of being sucked through a straw made of ice.
Then, as suddenly as the pressure had arrived, it vanished with a sickening *thump*. The smell of burnt fur and forest pine was gone.
