Cyra nodded toward the necklace that was clutched in Terra’s hand. “The Javad who held your medallion?”
“Yes.”
“He was a warrior?”
Terra slowly shook her head. The moment she caught sight of Javad entering the fighting cage, she’d known he was different. It wasn’t just because his dark beauty had stolen her breath. No, her gift of healing allowed her to sense his soul. There was none of the savage lust that lay like a shroud of malice over the other demons.
Her instinct had been proven right when, just a night later, he’d brutally beaten a goblin who’d been pressing her against the wall with the intent of raping her. The violent display had kept away any other demon who might think she was easy prey.
“Against his will,” she told her companion. “Javad was a victim. Like me.”
Pity darkened Cyra’s eyes. “He was forced to fight?”
Terra nodded. “His sire, Vynom, was a nasty, cruel vampire who treated Javad like a dog.” Terra clenched her hands into tight fists. Just the thought of Vynom was enough to send a toxic brew of emotions bubbling through her. “No, he treated him worse than a dog. The vampire didn’t care whether Javad lived or died as long as the monsters would pay to watch him fight. And worse, he used Javad’s own need to please his sire to hold him captive.”
“Oh, Terra,” Cyra breathed. “You must have been terrified.”
Terra swallowed a lump in her throat. She could almost smell the blood and fury and death that soaked into the dark pits beneath the streets of Athens.
“At first, I wanted to curl into a ball and die,” she admitted with brutal honesty. “It was only the stolen moments I could spend with Javad that allowed me to maintain my sanity. Eventually, not even that was enough. I became angry. So angry with the violence and blood. And needless death.” With effort, she forced her hands to unclench. “That’s when Javad appeared like a guardian angel to help me escape. I think he sensed I’d reached a point where I would do anything to be free. Even if it meant ending my life.”
“He saved you,” Cyra murmured.
No one had been more shocked than Terra when Javad had unlocked the door to the cell where Vynom kept her imprisoned. He hadn’t said a word. Instead, he’d motioned for her to follow him. She hadn’t hesitated. Not even for a second. She’d instinctively trusted the male as he led her through a hidden door and into the human sewers. He’d been her only friend since she’d left the safety of the Seraf temple. With a small push, he’d urged her to flee into the darkness, ignoring her urgent pleas for him to come with her.
It wasn’t until she was far away that she realized that he must have done something to the guard who was always posted in front of her cell. And no doubt several more that were patrolling the hallway. Vynom hadn’t survived in his ugly, savage world by accident. He took his security very seriously.
“Yes, and he risked his life to do it,” she said.
Cyra studied her. “So you gave him the medallion.”
Terra nodded. After Javad had refused to escape with her, she’d taken the medallion from around her neck and pressed it into his hand.
“I promised if he ever had need of me, he was to hold the medallion and speak my name.” A rueful smile twisted her lips. “Then I scurried to the temple as fast as I could run.”
There was a long pause as Cyra considered her words. Then she stretched out her hand to touch the medallion that Terra was absently stroking between her fingers.
“This is a pledge,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Serafs are supposed to break all connections to the outside world. It’s our oath.”
Serafs were expected to offer their gifts without concern for whether the demon in need was friend or foe. Which meant any loyalties they had before coming to the tower had to be purged.
“I had nothing else to offer. And honestly…” Terra grimaced as her words faded.
“You didn’t think he would use it,” Cyra suggested in gentle tones.
Terra shuddered, regret twisting her heart. “I know it’s awful, but it seemed impossible to believe that Javad could survive more than a few years at the most.”
“What will you do?”
“What should I do?”
Cyra’s expression was impossible to read. “If the Matron discovers you’ve left the temple, she will punish you. Perhaps even have you put in the dungeons.”
Terra grimaced. The Matron had been seeking any means to discredit Terra and put an end to her uncomfortable questions. If Terra left the temple, it would give the older female the perfect opportunity to banish her.
Then again, nothing said the Matron had to discover that she’d left…
“This is your choice, my child,” Cyra said, rising to her feet. Then, as if able to read Terra’s mind, she offered a secretive smile. “I will tell you that the Matron is expecting an important visitor in a few days. She invited several sisters to join her for a formal dinner, which means she’ll be preoccupied with overseeing the preparations.”
With that, the older female walked away. Terra watched her leave, battling through her tangled emotions.
She’d made a solemn oath to the Serafs to devote her life to healing.
She couldn’t break that sort of oath and not expect repercussions.
On the other hand, how could she turn her back on Javad? Without his assistance, she had no doubt she would be dead. Or worse. She owed him everything.
Rock. Hard place.
Spinning on her heel, Terra headed back into the gardens. Entering one of the private grottos, she clutched the medallion she’d given to Javad in her hand. Then, making sure that no one could see her from the temple, she closed her eyes and allowed the memory of the lean, perfect male face to form in her mind.
“Take me to him,” she whispered.
Chapter 3
Javad landed at the bottom of the cavern, using the top of his head to break his fall. The blow not only knocked him out but when he finally clawed his way back to consciousness, his brain felt like scrambled eggs.
He felt sudden sympathy for Humpty Dumpty.
Shaking his head, Javad tried to rid himself of the sluggish sensation. A mistake. The movement sent sharp pains through his injured brain. Damn. It’d been a long time since he’d cracked his skull. Not since his days in the fighting pits.
With a grimace, Javad forced open his eyes and glanced around.
He wasn’t surprised to discover that he was in a small, barren cell that looked as if it’d been chiseled out of the hard granite. Above him, the magical opening had closed to become a thick, impenetrable ceiling. And at the far end, a heavy silver door was set into the stone.
Had he stepped into a trap deliberately set for him? Or was it a general security system designed to keep demons from entering the fights without an invitation? And where was the aggravating gargoyle?
His foggy thoughts were abruptly forgotten when he caught the scent of rusted iron.
Vynom.
Javad caught the familiar sound of his sire’s heavy tread as the male vampire halted outside the cell. Javad’s former master stood six-foot-five, as tall as Styx the King of Vampires, with the same type of bulky muscles. He could make the ground shake when he walked. But his innate powers didn’t match his physical strength. Actually, he was one of the weakest demons Javad had ever known. To compensate, Vynom had become a cunning bully who used manipulation, deceit, and an utter lack of anything resembling morals to build his empire.
Javad surged upright. He would have to be dead not to meet his former master on his feet. At the same time, he reached for the silver dagger he’d holstered beneath his tunic before leaving Vegas.
Gone. Shit.
Vynom opened the door and entered the cell. His bald head gleamed in the muted light from the corridor, and his pale, square face looked as if it had been carved from the same gray granite as the cell. He wore a loose linen shirt that had a deep vee to reveal his broad chest and wo
rn leather pants. Javad arched his brows. The last time he’d seen his ex-master, the male had been wearing the finest silks and velvets and drenched in gold and gems.
“Ah, my son. I’ve been waiting for you to drop in.” Bright green eyes glittered with mocking amusement and something else. Something Javad couldn’t decipher. “What took you so long?”
Javad folded his arms over his chest, pretending he hadn’t noticed that he was standing in the middle of a cramped cell.
“I was debating whether to come myself or send one of my servants.” He shrugged. “As Viper pointed out, it’s my underlings’ responsibility to deal with the trash.”
“Viper.” The name was spat like a curse. Clearly, no love lost between the two ancient vampires. “How is your new master?”
“Successful. Sane. Deliriously happy with his new mate.”
Vynom’s lips twisted with unmistakable envy. “I suppose good things happen when you’re the Anasso’s favorite pet. Personally, I’ve never been willing to kiss ass to get what I want.”
“No, you just brutally torture those you should be protecting,” Javad taunted.
“Brutally torture? That’s a little melodramatic, isn’t it?”
“Says the male who never stepped into the fighting cage.”
Vynom shrugged. “I’m a capitalist who understands that we all have our skill sets. Mine is to make lots of money. Yours is to make creatures bleed.”
Javad clenched his fangs. Vynom had a unique ability to piss him off. He couldn’t afford to be goaded into losing his temper right now, though. Not when he didn’t know how he’d gotten into the cell. Or how the hell he was going to get out.
Instead, he lazily glanced around his barren surroundings. Fighting pits were always dirty and smelly and chaotic. Still, as Vynom’s fortunes had risen, he’d started taking pride in hosting his battles in elegant establishments. He chose the grandest cities and recreated the architectural style of the local palaces. It was a subtle way to make the demons attending the fights feel as if they were royalty.
“Looks like your skill set is slipping,” Javad goaded his sire. “Since when do you host competitions in dusty holes in the middle of the desert?” He returned his gaze to the older vampire, taking in the male’s simple clothing. “And since when do you dress like a cast member from Les Misérables?”
The vampire’s green eyes flared with fury, the scent of rust becoming choking in the air. Then, clenching his hands into tight fists, Vynom struggled to regain command of his temper.
“I’ll admit, there have been setbacks since you abandoned me. But that’s all about to change.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” Vynom assured him. “You, my son, are about to replenish my empty coffers.”
Dread curled in the pit of Javad’s stomach. “Doubtful.”
“It’s already been arranged.”
“What has?”
“The fight of the millennium.”
“Fight of the millennium?” Javad rolled his eyes. It sounded like a cheesy reality show. Or an 80s band. “Catchy.”
“And true.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that.”
“I don’t need luck.” Vynom stepped forward, a smile curving his lips. “Just you in the cage.”
“Just me? Damn. I’m more popular than I realized. Do you want me to sing a song or do a dance?” Javad mocked. “I’ll warn you that I’m tone-deaf, but my singing is still better than my dancing.”
“I want you to battle against Frack. To the death.”
Frack. Acid curled through Javad’s stomach. The massive orc had been fighting for centuries. Not only was he a full-blooded orc who stood over seven feet tall, he also had plates of armor magically embedded in his skin to protect his vital organs. And he was nucking futs. When he wasn’t in the cage to fight, his owner kept him shackled and chained to the wall to prevent him from creating utter carnage.
The ground shook beneath his feet. It was Javad’s power, however, that caused the small quakes. Unlike Vynom, who weighed as much as a small tank.
“Not gonna happen.”
Vynom took a step back. He was greedy, immoral, and brutally selfish, but he wasn’t stupid.
“It’s already scheduled,” he informed Javad. “In fact, the crowd started arriving last night. They’re eager to watch the epic return of Javad the Vanquisher.”
Javad pulled back his lips to reveal his fangs. “Don’t call me that.”
“And even more eager to bet shitloads of treasure on the outcome.”
Javad narrowed his eyes. “They can bet all they want. I’m not fighting.”
Vynom looked smug, but Javad didn’t miss the male’s quick glance over his shoulder. Was he expecting someone? Frack? Elvis?
“I think you will,” Vynom muttered.
“Do the threats of torture come now?” Javad asked. “Hot pokers? Silver chains? Listening to you reminisce about the good old days?”
“Actually…” The male’s words trailed off as the sudden scent of fresh aloe vera swirled through the cell. Then, without warning, a female seemed to appear out of thin air and dropped to the floor. “Ah. Just in time,” Vynom drawled.
Javad ignored his former master, his gaze locked on the female he hadn’t seen in centuries.
“Terra.”
With a fluid motion, Javad crouched down and reached out to lightly touch her throat. Relief jolted through him at the steady beat of her pulse.
Once assured that she was alive, he allowed his gaze to sweep over her delicate face. Oddly, it was as familiar as if they’d parted ways yesterday. Perhaps because he’d allowed himself to recall every sweep and curve of her elegant features on a regular basis. Too regularly.
He knew the precise shade of honey in the long curls that tumbled over her shoulders. The shocking beauty of her lavender eyes that were currently hidden behind a thick fringe of dark lashes. The plush pink of her lips. The only obvious change was the flowing white gown that pooled around her like melting snow.
Javad shook off his strange sense of…what? Destiny? No, that couldn’t be right.
It has to be anger, he sternly told himself. He’d spent centuries reminding himself of all the reasons he would never see this female again. Now, she’d somehow been sucked into this hellhole. It was only natural for him to be furious.
Of course, that didn’t explain the tingles of excitement that buzzed and sizzled through his body.
Jerking up his head, he glared at his former master. “What have you done to her?”
“Nothing.” Vynom held up his hand. “It’s a side effect of coming through the magical barrier, nothing more. You see?” He pointed toward Terra as her lashes fluttered open. “I’ll leave the two of you to get reacquainted for an hour or so. Then you’ll need to prepare to fight. I’m sure after all this time, you’ll want the opportunity to practice and work out the kinks. I can’t have you giving my customers a subpar performance.”
Javad jutted his chin. “I’m not fighting.”
Vynom smiled with cruel anticipation. “You fight. Or the female dies. Your choice.”
* * * *
Levet had watched helplessly as Javad dropped like a stone to the bottom of the cavern. He, on the other hand, had managed to avoid being sucked down as if he were in a massive toilet. Hey, it was not his fault that vampires didn’t have the good sense to possess wings.
Unfortunately, he was still entangled in the spell and unable to escape. Desperately releasing a burst of magic, he sent himself sailing through a narrow crack in the nearest wall.
For a breathless second, he thought he’d managed to avoid any unpleasant repercussions from the cleverly concealed trap. He zoomed through the darkness at an exhilarating speed, expecting to shoot out of the caves and into the desert. Instead, he smacked painfully against a stalactite and plunged to the ground.
Or was it a stalagmite?
Not that it mattered. Who cared what they called the pointy rocks that
filled the dark, musty cave?
Feeling decidedly ruffled to have been tossed around like a piece of radish—no, wait…rubbish, Levet struggled to get to his feet. Then, grabbing his tail, he polished the tip to a smooth gloss. It soothed his nerves, and of course the females adored a shiny tail, did they not?
Once his delicate nerves were settled, he cast a quick glance around. He was obviously in a remote part of the cavern complex. The hard, dusty floor was devoid of footprints, and silence lay thick in the darkness. There wasn’t even the rancid scent of fighters that usually contaminated the fighting pits.
He stilled. That was not entirely true. There was a smell. It wasn’t rancid, but instead a dry, crisp scent. Levet tilted back his head and took a deep sniff. Oui. There it was. Very faint, but unmistakable.
“Bonsoir,” he called out. “Who is there?” He waited. Nothing. “I can smell you.”
There was a soft beat of wings, then a small female stepped from behind a pointy rock.
“Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded in a voice as soft as snowflakes.
Levet blinked, studying the tiny creature. She was shorter than him with a slender body barely hidden beneath a gown made of gossamer lace. Her hair was long and so pale it almost looked white, while her features were astonishingly delicate with big, gray eyes.
Not long ago, Levet would have been enchanted by the pretty creature. He was a male who appreciated females of all sorts. Tall or short. Young or old. Slender or curvaceous. Now, however, he had developed a taste for a large ogress with mermaid blood, gaudy muumuus, and a bad temper. It was rather annoying, but what could a poor gargoyle do?
“Why would I hurt you?” he asked in confusion.
“Everyone hurts me.”
“Not moi.”
The female inched forward, studying Levet with a suspicious gaze. “You promise?”
Levet placed his hand in the center of his chest. “Cross my knees and hope to die,” he promised. “Well, I do not truly hope to die.”
She continued forward, halting directly in front of him. “What are you?”
Sacrifice of Darkness: A Guardians of Eternity Novella Page 4
