by Katie May
part of him I knew was buried deep down. Whatever this Aaliyah bitch did to
him... it wasn’t entirely her fault. I’d always known there was something
lurking just beneath Jax’s eccentric surface. It was only a matter of time
before it sprang free. She had cultivated and encouraged the creation of a...
of a Nightmare.
It was only as I took a second step closer that I noticed the body leaning
against the wall.
A dead body.
His hair was greasy and disheveled—as if he hadn’t showered in weeks—
and his body was frail. I could see each individual bone through his yellow
skin. His throat had been ripped out, now-dried blood staining his neck and
chest.
And...
And I recognized him.
His name was DDD, and he was a member of the Alphabet Resistance. I
hadn’t known him too well, but he had been a skilled sharpshooter.
My horrified gaze flickered from the dead body to Jax and then back to
the dead body.
No. No. No.
“I didn’t kill him,” Jax pleaded, tears filling his eyes. “I promise. At
least, I don’t think I did. I don’t...” He shook his head rapidly. “I was so
thirsty.”
My forward momentum turned into hurried steps backwards.
He was my mate... but I didn’t recognize him. The Jax I knew would never
hurt—let alone kill—an innocent man. Not Jax. Not my mate. Not the man
who cuddled next to me in bed, stroking my hair and whispering sweet
nothings in my ear.
“I didn’t kill him,” he insisted again, lunging forward. “She did. She did.
She did.” For a moment, some of his original lunacy returned as he repeated
those two words over and over again. His face was pale, stark white, and not
even the blood could obscure the plea etched into his features.
Slowly, cautiously, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. Holding
him to me? Holding him together? I didn’t know for certain.
Incrementally, like ice melting on a hot summer day, the stress tightening
the muscles of his body loosened. He hugged me as fiercely and desperately
as I hugged him.
“She thinks I’m lost to my blood-lust. She thinks she has me under her
control,” he murmured into my hair. “But she’s wrong.”
“Jax...” My eyes continued to flick over his broad shoulders and towards
my fallen comrade.
“I’m going to get out of here,” he vowed. When I pulled away, I saw his
lips pressed into a stubborn line. “And then I’m coming for you and the
others.”
Before I could respond—before I could beg him to be careful—I felt a tug
in the center of my chest. My surroundings began to blur and distort like a
window that hadn’t been washed. Jax’s features twisted at our inevitable
goodbye, his hands lifting as if to reach for me. I desperately lunged forward,
towards him, but the pull was too strong.
The last thing I saw was Jax’s pain-stricken face as darkness once more
consumed the entirety of my vision.
TWENTY
BASH
I used to sit underwater in the bathtub and hold my breath.
One second.
Two seconds.
Two minutes.
There was something soothing about the water caressing my naked skin.
In that brief moment, as my head ducked beneath the surface, I heard and felt
nothing. The world was utterly and irreversibly silent.
My surroundings themselves were immensely blurry and distorted. From
my vantage point, all I could see was the cracked ceiling with zigzagging
water stains.
Oddly enough, that memory reverberated through my head now as I
brought my arm over my nose. Flames and smoke were everywhere—
creating impenetrable barriers I had to stumble through in order to move
forward. Screams bounced off the walls, seeming to come from all directions.
I couldn’t discern where one scream ended and another began.
Z. I needed to find Z.
With that thought driving me, I held my breath and continued to race
through the burning, collapsing inn. The smoke was getting thicker and
thicker the further I went, clogging my airways.
Fuck, how long could she last? How long could Ryland last? I had no
doubt that my brother would do everything in his power to get our mate to
safety.
But...
But it might not have been enough.
Refusing to allow that thought to solidify, I kicked open a door that led to
a smoke-congested kitchen. Empty. Of-fucking-course.
My lungs were protesting, demanding I inhale, but I stubbornly held my
breath.
Was she still in her room? Had she already left?
My thoughts raced in a circle as I dived forward, just barely missing a
falling wall decoration. Stumbling back to my feet, I forced myself forward,
the flames eating away the walls on either side of me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Up ahead, I could see a sliver of sunlight piercing through the monotony
of gray smoke. My cautious pace broke into a run at the prospect of getting
fresh air.
With a loud cough, I exited the inn just as another log of wood sparked
and hissed, collapsing directly behind me.
I dropped to my knees beside the familiar figure lying unconscious on the
pavement.
“Ryland,” I gasped, shaking his shoulder. Was it the smoke? Had he
passed out?
And where the fuck was Z?
I knew he would never leave without her, which meant she must’ve left to
look for help. She would probably appear any fucking moment now.
Any.
Fucking.
Moment.
“Ryland!” I slapped his cheek softly, and his eyelids fluttered open.
“What?” he murmured groggily. Soot covered his face and clothes, and I
noticed a section of his shirt had been burnt off. “Z!” He sat up abruptly, head
swiveling from side to side.
“What the...?” I attempted to place my hands on his shoulders to calm
him. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
“And Z?” he asked desperately, clenching my sleeves.
A lump the size of an acorn took up residence in my throat. If he didn’t
know where she was...
“Didn’t she leave with you?” I asked, already preparing to run back into
the burning building.
“She did,” he agreed, and I exhaled in relief. His next words, however,
were a proverbial kick to the nuts. “Someone attacked us.”
“Someone?” I asked darkly. Red coated my vision at the thought of
anyone—absolutely anyone—hurting my mate. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Hypocritical considering how much of an ass I was to her? Maybe. But also
very true. “Aaliyah?”
“I don’t know.” Ryland jumped to his feet, wobbling slightly before he
steadied himself. “We need to fucking find her.”
“We will,” I assured him, already planning a tracking spell. Like with
Jax, we needed an object from the person she loved the most and a strand of
her hair. No matter what it took, we would get our girl back. But... “Jax.” I
stopped abruptly, and Ryland turned to stare at me, for once forgoing his
us
ual shadows.
“What about him? We’ll look for him as soon as we get Z back. It’s what
he would want.”
I knew Ryland was right, but he was forgetting one important bit of
information. “If we don’t get him back soon, Z’s life will be forfeit.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My insides tangled into dozens of tight knots.
Ryland’s face turned grave, seemingly carved from stone. “We need to
split up.”
I nodded sharply. “We need to get our girl and our brother back.”
Or else we’d lose them both.
TWENTY-ONE
DAIR
A tta ducked behind one of the ornately carved thrones, her
bright red hair disappearing from view. I just barely resisted the
urge to roll my eyes as I wheeled myself forward, the marble
floors allowing my chair to glide smoothly.
“What are you doing, you dork?” I questioned, eyeing the strange girl.
Her freckled face popped over the gilded edge of the chair as she flashed
me a smile.
“Being badass, of course,” she answered matter-of-factly. This time, I did
roll my eyes at her antics.
Atta had come to the conclusion that the Mage King kept the tiny green
portal tablets in a secret compartment under his throne. How she discovered
this, I had no idea. Honestly? I didn’t want to know.
The throne room was eerily silent, almost unnaturally so, like the quiet
before a lion pounced. Most of the Kings had retired to their respective
kingdoms for the time being. Only the Vampire King remained.
“We’re the prince and princess, Atta,” I stated. “We’re allowed to be
here.”
Actually, our parents expected us to be. Some of us, like Bash and
Devlin, were born with silver spoons in their mouths. They practically
embodied royalty and privilege—capable of charming a crowd and bringing
that same crowd to their knees. We were born to be our parents’ perfect
replacements.
Cold, vindictive, cunning.
I pictured my dad’s malevolent expression as he cut through the tendons
and bones of my legs. The glee emanating from his blue gaze. The curve of
his lips in a sadistic smile.
The last thing I ever wanted to be was like them: the seven Kings who
ruled this empire—and their children—with iron fists.
Shuddering slightly, I focused back on Atta. Currently, she was on her
hands and knees as she dug through the threading of the throne where she had
slit a barely perceptible hole. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see a
handful of magical pills, potions, and hex bags. The Mage King might’ve
been a lazy son of a bitch, but he still exuded power. If I had to guess, I
would say half of those spells were used for protection against assassination
attempts.
The Kings liked to believe they were untouchable, but that couldn’t be
further from the truth. I knew for a fact that there had been over twenty
assassination attempts in the last six months alone.
“There!” Atta exclaimed triumphantly, holding up a tiny pill. She quickly
shoved the rest of the supplies back into the throne’s lining. “This, right here,
will transport you to your heart’s home. Cheesy? Fuck yes. Effective? Also
fuck yes.” She flashed me a smile, skipping forward until she was able to
deposit the tablet in my hand.
“Thank you, Atta,” I said sincerely, capturing her hand in mine and
giving it a squeeze. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you...”
Briefly, her bright eyes flashed with pain. I couldn’t imagine what she
must be feeling, what she must be going through. I would lose my fucking
mind if I lost Z. To lose your other half...
No words could encapsulate it.
“I’m surviving,” she murmured softly. Those large, haunted eyes turned
away from me suddenly, as if my sympathy was too much for her to bear.
Before I could respond, the throne room doors were pushed open and a
familiar man stepped in.
His light brown hair was slicked back from his arresting, chiseled face,
and his eyes were two shades darker than his son’s. Still, Jax’s father—the
Vampire King—would be recognizable anywhere. He moved with a
purposeful, brisk gait as if he didn’t even notice the two of us hovering
nearby like imbeciles. No surprise. He was entirely enraptured by the bag of
blood he was drinking. That was his sin, after all.
Once you had a sip, you always craved more.
Finally, he halted, his head doing a comedic double-take when he spotted
us.
“What the blazes are you two doing here?” he demanded. His voice
wasn’t cruel like my father’s or the Shifter King’s. It wasn’t even indolent
like Bash’s dad. Instead, I would almost describe it as curious.
Yes, that was it. He was genuinely curious about why we were here.
But curiosity from the Kings was very, very dangerous.
We survived by remaining under their radar, not at the forefront of it.
“We wanted to see you,” Atta chirped, infusing false sincerity into her
voice.
The Vampire King—Dominic—appeared shocked. He blinked his long
lashes at her in confusion.
“Yes,” I agreed, hands tightening on the wheels of my chair. “We wanted
to see how you were doing.”
“Yes!” Atta nodded her head, face twisting. “It must be awful losing your
son. Have you heard from him? Do you have any idea where he is?”
Dominic still appeared bemused, the wrinkles around his eyes becoming
more pronounced, as he considered the two of us. It was almost as if he had
completely forgotten about Jax and was only now remembering that his sole
heir and only son was missing.
Anger thrummed through me, the emotion momentarily blinding. Jax
didn’t deserve this piece of shit as a father. None of us fucking did.
“Oh, yes. Tragic,” he drawled, already bored with this conversation.
“Let’s hope Z is able to bring him back,” I said through clenched teeth,
seething.
Stay calm, Dair, I scolded myself. I couldn’t afford to react to every
minuscule thing the dumbass Kings said. If they knew how much their words
impacted me, it would only fuel the fire.
“Yes, yes.” Dominic waved a hand dismissively, gliding past us to his
throne. I sometimes wondered if the Kings sat on them in empty rooms just to
make themselves feel more powerful.
If Dominic was any indication, the answer to that question was a
resounding yes.
“I’m sure it’s imperative that you get him back,” Atta insisted as I began
to wheel myself out of the room, still gripping the tiny pill.
The Vampire King regarded her lazily, almost impassively, as he reclined
in his high-back throne. With his red cloak cascading around his slender
frame and golden crown, he looked regal and powerful.
Terrifying.
“We have contingencies,” Dominic stated, rolling his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Atta pressed, ignoring my warning look. She was
always too curious for her own good. “Isn’t Jax slated to take the throne
when you retire? Or when you die?”
Fucking hell, Atta.
&
nbsp; Dominic’s grin grew, splitting his face in two. Twin fangs bit into his
lower lip, making his smile appear even more terrifying. It was a face that
evoked nightmares—bone-chilling nightmares. He had never been the star of
mine, though. That spot was reserved for a different King.
“If I die, my dear,” he corrected, eyes glinting.
“Everyone dies,” Atta prodded, crossing her arms over her chest.
He winked once before settling back in his throne, arms crossed and eyes
closing. It was a dismissal if I’ve ever seen one. Even Atta retreated, stepping
up behind me to wheel me out of the room.
His following words trailed after us like a bitter wind slicing skin.
“Not the people who make a deal with the devil.”
TWENTY-TWO
Z
T he room smelled like death.
It had a distinct, pungent scent—oily, almost, with
undercurrents of copper and sweat. Words failed to truly
encapsulate the atrocious smell that barraged my senses.
Wrinkling my nose, I forced my eyes to remain closed as I studied my
surroundings. Someone was crying a little bit away from me, the sound
grating at my eardrums. I could hear flesh hitting flesh followed closely by a
masculine scream. And someone else laughed raucously.
Where the fuck was I?
Surprisingly enough, I didn’t appear to be tied up. My muscles flexed
intermittently—the movements barely perceptible. First my fingers wiggled
and then my toes. I shook my hands out and then my feet. Slowly, ever so
slowly, I regained control of my numb body.
The ground was rough and cold beneath my cheek. Cement, more than
likely.
Was this Aaliyah? Had she finally accomplished what she always
wanted?
Me.
And where was Ryland?
Panic pulsed through me at the thought of my Shadow mate. Was he here
with me, or had he been left behind at the burning inn?
Oh, fuck. Phantom remnants of smoke clogged my airways as I thought
of him. I prayed to whoever was listening that he was okay, that he was safe.
I didn’t want to consider the alternatives.
Cautiously, I popped open one eye to inventory my surroundings.
I appeared to be in a large cell, easily capable of housing at least twenty
people. Bright fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the
