by A. K. Koonce
I want to pull her close as I fall over the edge.
She just beats me to it.
She jerks my hands forward until my chest is against hers, her chin tipped up high to give me the fullness of her glare. Confusion clashes within me to see the anger in her pretty face.
“You don’t get to decide who’s my person, Latham. If I want Aric,” she throws her attention at the startled and bewildered dragon shifter, “I’ll take him.”
A strange smile breaks across his stupid face.
“Well shit, Love, I’m flattered.”
“If I want Torben,” she shrugs, “I’ll have him too.”
Her soft lips ghost over mine.
“But don’t ever tell me that you’re wrong for me.”
The softest kiss presses to my lips, and every ounce of anxiety within me rushes out like a bolt of lightning finding its source.
And then she throws us over the edge.
And we spiral into the whipping wind, falling up into the realm of Hell once more.
12
Freefall
Rhys
I’m still holding him against my chest when I land on staggering feet in a cavernous, dim room. His dark eyebrows shadow his bright eyes, but he never looks away from me as he searches my face as if to really believe what I told him.
I want him. I do. I have no idea how it’ll end for the four of us together, but right now, it doesn’t matter. The four of us together is the only thing in my entire life that feels right.
And I won’t let that go.
“How very kind of you to join us again,” a cruel, cryptic voice says. Her words scurry up the tall walls, crawling all around me until a shiver races down my arms.
Just as two more men free fall from a source of magic hidden in the jagged, rocky ceiling above, my head turns, and there she is, seated casually on a stone throne.
Two thrones sit near the back wall, not quite touching the rocky backdrop that shimmers mysteriously behind them. Even the setting around them is emphasized in a manner of beautiful darkness. King Mordon sits watchfully at her side. And kneeling at his feet is my mother.
Big blue eyes flick up to look at me before gazing back down at the floor like a beaten dog. Her hands rest flat on her upper thighs, her spine as straight as a Queen’s. Or a God’s. A Goddess of Love.
I leapt through that portal so recklessly because I knew even though I’d face Hela again, I’d see my mother. I’d know she was safe for another day.
I can’t do a lot with my powers here, but I’ll always do whatever I can to help the ones I love. Even if that means wearing down her abuser and shifting her anger away from my mother … and onto me.
“It must be tiring,” I tell her, her head tilting just slightly as I speak. “It must be downright exhausting to be so jealous of my mother all the time.
Laughter breaks out of her petite frame, and her attention shoots toward her Elfie King to find him smirking as well.
“Why else would you keep her here as an eternal punishment simply because your King fell in love with her?”
My mother’s eyes are frantic when she looks up at me.
“Tell me, do you really believe he doesn’t still take care of her the way a lover would?” I ask, my thoughts roaming to how Torben took patient care of me each night we were alone.
Her smile falters then, and a sharp look of disgust pinches her red lips.
“Your mother is a love whore. Not even worthy of the gods. She’s lucky—lucky—we took her in.” Hela stands then, her height making her seem even more infamous than ever.
“I want to go home. And I want to take my mother with me,” I cut in, steadying my voice with pure confidence I actually feel pulsing within me. I’ve never felt this before. I’ve never felt so sure of anything in my entire life. It’s a hint of my magic that’s bound so tightly within me, it has nowhere left to go but to strengthen my words as well as my shoulders as I speak with poised conviction to this heinous woman.
Cackling laughter rings out from her red lips, and she looks back behind her chair to someone I hadn’t previously noticed until now. Sitting on the rocky floor with his dusty, dirty black hair leaning against Hela’s chair is Serpan. He smiles a blood-kissed smirk at her like a beaten pet looking for a bone.
I shudder as I remember him in his natural form, but I don’t let that uncomfortable feeling shadow my face. I keep my chin tilted high and try to think of how to get the five of us away from this woman.
Hela sways closer and closer, and each step she takes sets off the men behind me. She comes closer, and they press closer against my back as if they’ll do something for me that they’ve never once done for themselves.
That’s what love does. It puts us in unimaginable positions in life. Like leaping into the bowels of Hell just for a mother I never even met.
I still don’t know her. But Hela’s not about to separate us again.
The Queen of Hell is so close now, she could rip out my own beating heart if she wanted to.
I’m half tempted to do it to her just to see if this cruel woman even has one.
Except neither of us moves. She simply . . . smiles.
“You’ve been fun, Rhys.” Her eyes light up as something clearly plots within her dark mind. “But much like your mother, you’re getting too comfortable here. Making demands of me as if you’re something more than an unwanted daughter of a whore.”
I want her anger focused on me. But I also don’t want to make it worse for my mother. I swallow hard and try not to speak or lash out.
Because it sounds like . . . she’s letting me leave here.
But what’s the catch?
“I think I will let you go. Take the traitorous men with you, while you’re at it.” She turns, her dress sweeping wildly behind her. “While you’re out, change your attitudes. I’ll be watching. And when we see each other again, be ready to apologize for how you spoke tonight.”
I’ll be watching . . .
Everything is a game to her.
This is just one more.
“What—” The word catches in my throat before I can fully get it out.
And then we’re falling.
Hands reach out to steady me as we literally whirlwind through a blank space. It’s as if every void to get from one realm to the next is different. And this one is like sliding down a tunnel with no walls. We’re thrown this way and that, but the path is unseen.
All we know is each other. It’s all we have.
Perhaps that’s why when we land with boots hitting hard into fluffy moss and flowers, my feet never touch the ground at all. One of my arms is wrapped with sharp nails digging into Torben’s thick shoulders.
While the other is clinging to Latham.
My head tips up to find Aric looking directly down at me. His long fingers dip into my hips while my thighs are so tightly around his waist that my feet are holding him hard against me. At one time, we were a huddle of bodies falling recklessly from the mysterious, unseen tunnel in the sky.
Now it just looks like the three of them are going to devour me amongst themselves like wild animals finding the last female mate out in the jungle.
“I—I think . . .” I gaze around at the beautiful garden we’re in. Blooms of bright pink and jade blue flowers brush against the guy’s arms and my hair even. “Are we out of Hell? Are we back on Earth finally?”
Aric holds my hips tightly, his fingers digging in harder at the end before he slowly lets my feet hit the ground.
“No,” Latham whispers like the word was stuck in his throat.
A woman with enormous, purple eyes steps out from behind a moss-covered tree. Something shines from just behind her slender shoulders. She carries a frightened stature. Wild and animalistic.
Scared even.
“Hi,” I say softly, trying my best to ease her nervous appearance. But something in her innocent face is a warning bell. My beast snarls deep in my chest. There’s a conflict of emotions within me,
warring over this small, terrified woman. “I—I think we might be lost,” I say slowly, my body tensing and going on defense for no real reason at all . . .
“I—”
She pulls a long, bowing blade from behind her back. And leaps at me.
13
A Cruel Realm
Rhys
A flash of magic sizzles like fire catching among the damp, humid mosses. In the blink of an eye, Latham stands in front of me, fumes of his magic swirling in black smoke off of his wide shoulders. His hand is held high in the air, and just between his thumb and four fingers is the cutting edge of the woman’s blade. A single drop of blood runs down Latham’s palm, but he stares at the bizarre woman with an unflinching gaze.
Her arms tense. An angry line forms where her mouth is, but she can’t seem to lift the weapon out of Latham’s hold. With casual violence, he flings the curved blade to the soft ground and takes a careful step closer to the beautiful woman who is now full-on hissing in his face.
“Stop!” Latham commands in a tone I’ve never heard from him. “My father is your Lord.” Confusion and disbelief shine in her hateful, violet eyes. Her long green hair sways around her sharp features, and it’s then that I make out the delicate point of her ears.
Elves . . .
“Tell my father I’ll see him soon,” Latham whispers as the female backs away. She slips out through a veil of tangled moss and vines.
My breath is still caught somewhere in my throat, and I have no idea what just happened.
“Was she a light elf? Like the King?” I look to Aric and Torben at my side, but it’s Latham who answers.
“This is their realm. The Realm of Light Elves.” With a swift hand, he wipes his palm against his jeans and turns back to us. “Cruel creatures. Just like the King.”
I can’t help but keep focused on the span of deep green forest that the elf disappeared through.
“Your father’s an elf?” I tilt my head at them, but it’s Aric’s booming laughter that cuts in.
His hand falls to his chest as if it hurts to laugh, but damn if he doesn’t keep on cackling at the mere suggestion of my words.
“Our father is their Lord. Lord Loki. God of Mischief. Passed that mischief bit on to his sons.” Aric winks, but his amusement fades when he looks at Latham. “Well. Not all of his sons, clearly.”
Latham rolls his pretty eyes at the shifter, but the more they explain, the more confusing it is.
“You’re brothers?”
“All monsters are the making of the God of Mischief. In a way—” Latham winces like it pains him to admit it, “Aric and I are brothers.”
But too many things are passing around my mind.
“So . . . you’re also brothers with my Hell cat?” A smile lights my face as I look between the two men.
The crisp smile that was just beaming on Aric’s face is nothing more than a shadow of discomfort.
“Uh . . . no. I—I think that demon was completely spawned from pure evil.”
I shove at his arm, but at the last second, his long, tattooed fingers catch at my wrist. He spins me fast. And then he pulls. The teasing laughter in my chest shifts, turning into a flutter of butterflies the moment my hands land against his chest. His strong arms wrap around me in the mossy meadow of peace.
The sway of vines that the woman passed through catch my eye once more. It’s the instincts of my beast on high alert. Is it the wind?
The humidity stifles against the slick skin along my neck.
Something white creeps out from within the deep green veiling. Like a bone of a finger curling out to beckon me closer. Long fingers grip the vines. One hand creeps through quietly, unseen by the others.
And then another.
And another.
Until hundreds can be spotted, little by little.
Surrounding us.
“Fuck,” I whisper on a sudden, terrified breath. Aric’s head dips, his lips nearly brushing mine. But my palm collides with his chest hard enough to steal the air from his lungs. He’s shoved aside, and I’m running. The three men don’t even realize what’s happening. I shove Torben back as well, trying my best to put space between them and the elves.
But it’s not enough.
I know this. Even as my beast rips forth, tearing away at my fragile human body to reveal the powerful creature who’s been kept away from me for far too long. The shrieks of the elves sound out on vicious waves. In response, my wolf’s growl reverberates all through my body. Its movements are a shudder of speed that my sight can’t keep up with. Snapping teeth and sharp knives are all I see. Blood splatters around me, drenching my fur. I don’t know if it’s mine or theirs.
The ground shakes with magic that I know is Torben’s. A deadly roar of a totally dominant dragon assaults my ears, and somewhere, I smell the scent of Latham’s fiery magic.
A lot of it.
But I can’t pause to search them out among the building, thrashing chaos. All those furious nights my beast spent locked away unable to help those whom she loved—or even herself—are now coming out in full force. She’s making up for lost time.
And she’s enjoying it.
Pain thrusts through my side, sharp and intense enough for a cry to roar up from my throat. A final snap of bones crunches through my deadly jaws with vengeance. With a heavy shake of her head, my beast releases her mouthful of blood. And then slumps to the blood-soaked ground.
Her whimpers hurt my heart. It’s my own pain, and yet it’s not.
It’s okay, girl. It’s okay, I say to myself as well as her.
Relief washes through me. For whatever reason, she sees fit, and then I feel her releasing me. She gives me back to myself, and it’s then that pain really does sink in deep and fast. It crumples me to my knees, the pain striking deep in my side like a fresh wound all over again. It overtakes me with spotty visions of my surroundings.
Exhaustion seeps into every fiber of my being from the strength she withdrew from me.
Dozens of elves lie slain in the sunny meadow. Their battered carcasses litter the ground. Beautiful eyes and a splatter of blood across a handsome face fill my vision.
“Shit.” Torben’s big arms wrap me up in all my nudity, and I’m pulled against his damp chest as darkness seeps into the outer parts of my vision.
Aric’s wide eyes meet mine, and the panic within his gaze scares me more than my own.
It’s bad.
“Get her to my father!” Latham grips Torben’s shoulder and grabs Aric’s arm.
It’s all a whirlwind of far-off emotions I can’t connect to. All of it feels too far away. Just out of my reach.
Smoke swirls in with a fiery scent.
I’m whisked away from it all as my head lolls back from the weight of it all.
And then . . . I’m taken into the unknown.
14
A Bit of Pizzazz
Rhys
“You’re smart to bring her to me.” An amused but confident-sounding man says.
“As if I had a choice,” someone very familiar tells him.
“Latham,” a grumbling voice warns, but the three of them are all a muddle of sound within my pounding skull.
“If you want me to do something more for her, dear son, just . . . ask.” His words sound twisting and hidden somehow.
“I’d rather die.”
“Or go to Hell? Again?” the man propositions.
“Loki,” the grumpy man grunts in warning.
A scuffle of sound and anger clash around me. The grumpy, rational voice carries on trying to balance the tumbling chaos. But he fails miserably each time as more ruckus continues.
Gentle fingers brush against my temple as if easing away the pain there.
“Rhys,” a tragic voice haunts into my cloudy mind. He sounds like poetry come alive. A lifetime of haunting words that were never said. A single second of a moment slipped away.
Aric sounds like a man about to break.
I’d know his voi
ce anywhere. I’ve just never heard it like this before.
“Just wake up, Love. Please.” A crack of emotion cuts his words. “Please fucking wake up, baby. How—how am I supposed to go back to being alone when you just taught me I can love someone? Or, shit, that someone can even love me? I don’t want that. I—I don’t want a world without you.” A weight of something solid settles on my chest, and I feel his jagged breaths along my collar bone.
It’s painful to hear his broken pieces. It’s like I’m walking over them one by one.
Just to get back to him.
Among a cynical symphony of sound, I quietly wake. The setting of a sun burns golden hues across the above. I lie flat on my back in a garden, flowers springing up all around me. A rainbow of petals and deep green leaves sway above my head, my shoulders, my arms. My lashes flutter to look down on the beautiful man holding me . . . or maybe he’s holding himself together against me . . .
His shadowed appearance of darkness and sin is entirely out of place in the sea of wildflowers and peaceful evening sky overhead. Aric looks entirely like a creature of Hell who doesn’t belong in a place so beautiful and pure.
And yet somehow, he’s perfect here with me.
My fingers lift and stroke through soft, dark hair.
“Did you just say you loved me?” I ask on rasping words that skim over dry lips.
His head flings up fast. Damp eyes look into mine with so much rawness. Our gazes are locked with heated energy burning between the small amount of space between us. I want to fall into that warmth and burn in the fires if it means having him nearer. He leans closer to me, wide, wild eyes searching across my features at a rapid pace before calming just slightly despite the trembling hand that still pushes my hair back along my temple.
“Fuck, I love you,” he confesses. And then he slams his lips to mine.
He tastes like he sounds. There’s a hint of salty sadness against his tongue. But his passion is more pronounced. Aric kisses me like he’ll never risk letting me go. He’ll never take this kiss, or the next, or even the next for granted.
