The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0)

by Grace McGinty

  Hemlock rolled his eyes at Enya. “Stop beating yourself up. We all know that falling under Cian’s spell is involuntarily. Who knew it would still work if he was unconscious?” He smashed the head of one of the guards into the rough stone wall.

  “I’m not beating myself up. I’m beating these guys up.” She slammed her fist into the guard’s face repeatedly.

  When the guards were unmoving, she checked to see they weren’t dead, mostly out of habit, then continued at a quick pace down the hall. As much as she wanted to run, she held herself back. Running would draw attention. She hoped Roxx had gotten away with the Great Weapon. She didn’t know what had tripped the alarms, but she was fairly certain it wasn’t him. Cian hadn’t even realized there was anyone else in the room. She didn’t know where all the guards had been running too, but it wasn’t in their direction. Now she only had to hope that the portal room was empty too, otherwise they were going to be in a world of trouble.

  As they came around the corner, she cursed.

  The portal room was teeming with guards, jostling toward the portal opening. Azar hoped to the Goddess that Roxx wasn’t the focus of all those swinging blades.

  Not having a better idea, they pushed their way through the back of the crowd, and Hemlock looked over the top of their heads to the portal room.

  “It’s Lorcan’s group!”

  Coming from the back of the mass, they made it a fair way into the portal room before anyone realized they didn’t belong. With Azar wedged between them, Enya and Hemlock pushed through the attacking force, daggers out, slicing throats and sticking kidneys.

  Lorcan’s Captain of the Guard saw them coming and shouted something. The team lunged forward in a furious attack, driving back the Seelie soldiers until her group were in arms reach.

  She could see no sign of Lorcan or Roxx and her heart thundered.

  “Your brother is through the portal already. You must go!” He pushed Azar through the glittering barrier and the sick, whirling pressure overcame her body.

  She landed with a thump in the standing stone circle, on top of another person. It must have been raining, because she landed in a puddle and it soaked straight through the gauze of her dress.

  She stared at the person she landed on, and realized it was Lorcan.

  “Thank God you are ok!” she whispered, getting to her feet. She reached down to help him up when she noticed the mud on her hand. But it didn’t feel like mud at all. It was tacky in the rapidly cooling Irish air.

  She raise her hand to her nose and sniffed. The faint coppery tang of blood.

  She dropped back to her knees and her hands searched Lorcan’s body in the dark.

  “Fuck! Lorcan!” Her hand found flaps of flesh peeled up from his body, blood gushing out from the wounds over her fingers.

  A hand grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her off Lorcan and onto her feet. She let out a scream, flailing.

  “Relax, it’s me. We need to move!” Hemlock’s voice sounded strained, and Azar’s head whipped around the standing stones. Only four of Lorcan’s six guards were standing there with them. A big man, the biggest Fae she had seen to date, picked Lorcan up like a doll and ran out of the standing stones.

  “We’ve jammed it with an amulet, but it won’t last long. We are going to have to sift back to the States,” Lorcan's Captain said. “Your brother has taken the SUV and will fly back on the private jet. We came across him in the portal room.”

  They reached the tree where Lorcan had removed the outfits earlier in the night. He removed Umedesta, a katar which looked basically like a vicious set of Wolverine claws.

  “Hold this.” He thrust the Great Weapon into her hands. “We must get our Prince medical attention as soon as possible. Hold on, you might feel slightly nauseous.”

  With that, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, the dagger’s sharp points pressing uncomfortably into her flesh but not breaking skin.

  Then they were sifting, and her body felt like it was being pulled apart and being put back together over and over again.

  Chapter 17

  Azar was glad that the Fae couldn’t sift inside the dens. No one would see her shame.

  They came to rest in the clearing near the training rings. She dropped the Great Weapon, doubled over and vomited up everything she’d eaten in the last decade. At least that’s what it felt like as heaves wracked her body over and over.

  No one paid her much attention. They were crowded around their fallen Prince.

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stumbled over to Lorcan.

  “Is he okay? What the hell happened?”

  The Captain of the Guard pulled a weapon from his back holster, and her breath caught when she spied the largest axe head she’d ever seen. His face was grim and smeared with Lorcan’s blood. She stood like a deer in the headlights as he raised the axe up over his head.

  Instead of decapitating her like she’d briefly imagined, he held it out to her.

  “Goddess, the last Great Weapon, Zindagi.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Her voice was strangled because there was still a huge lump in her throat.

  Halona and the Doc rushed over to Lorcan, pushing through the circle of his men.

  “He has one hundred lacerations over his body, two inches deep and two inches long,” Enya said calmly. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but he will survive.”

  Doc looked at Lorcan, still fully dressed although his clothes were torn to shreds. What could have done that?

  “How do you know he has a hundred?”

  “It is a form of Unseelie torture.” She rolled up her sleeve, and there were several two-inch scars on her forearms. The fact they scarred at all meant they were done with magic, or a magic infused weapon. “If I can survive it, so can he.”

  Doc and Halona still took Lorcan away on a stretcher, carried by two of his men, two more walking beside them. They would stand guard over their Prince.

  She stood next to the Captain. “You need to tell me what happened, Captain…?”

  “Quigley, my Goddess.”

  Azar held in a laugh. There was no way this tall, imposing warrior was named Quigley. But he didn’t look like the joking sort, so she just nodded for him to continue.

  “As our Prince declared, he strode into the throne room and took Zindagi from its place above the Queen’s throne. He said that any who wished to challenge him may do so, but he was leaving with the weapon. No one would stand against the Black Prince if they wanted to live. You know the strength of his ability?” She nodded. Instant necrosis wasn’t something she was likely to forget. “Not even the Queen would stand directly against Prince Lorcan in a duel. However, she couldn’t let him just walk out with it. So we were surrounded, and although we fought them off, we were eventually subdued. No one had stepped toward Prince Lorcan, but she had a good threat with us. He warned the Queen that if one of us was hurt, he would rain down death on all present. He could do it, and everyone in the throne room was aware.

  “I believe to save face, the Queen told him that she would spare our lives, and he could walk out with the axe, for she believed she would soon get it back when they conquered the Djinn. But he had to withstand the Blooding.”

  Whatever ‘the Blooding’ was, it sounded awful.

  “The Blood Prince, Oisrin, the Queen’s right hand, always inflicts the Blooding. I can tell you, Goddess, he enjoys it too. He inflicts one hundred lacerations, two inches deep by two inches long with magic, each wound affecting us as mortal wounds, inhibiting our ability to heal. It is his specialty, drawing blood. Most people don’t survive to fifty gashes. Only one other person has ever survived the Blooding.”

  “Enya,” Azar said, remembering the scars that littered her arm.

  Quigley nodded. “She was Prince Oisrin's intended bride. But he is a monster, and she wished to have the engagement annulled. The Queen would only permit it if she survived the Blooding. I can tell you, I have never seen anything s
o awful as the last ten gashes, Oisrin so enraged that he cut arteries, trying to ensure she would die. But she didn’t, she was tougher than them all. Prince Lorcan stepped in as Prince Oisrin went forward after his one hundredth slice to slit her throat and ensure her death despite the Queen’s decree. Prince Lorcan prevented her death by beating back his brother, and had her nursed back to health by his own personal handmaiden. She was made part of his guard upon her recovery. She is loyal to Prince Lorcan to the very core, and one of his best soldiers.” There was admiration in the Captain’s tone, and maybe a touch of something a little softer. Affection? Even love?

  She’d already respected Enya, but her strength of will was awe-inspiring.

  “So Lorcan survived one hundred gashes and the Queen just let you all leave?”

  “Yes and no. She’d said that he could ‘walk out’ with Zindagi, so if we carried him or the axe, the agreement was forfeit. The Prince stood, coated in blood from one hundred cuts, and dragged the axe out of the throne room and through the portal before he collapsed. His last words were to retrieve you from the Seelie sidhe, and get you out of there. As our Prince wills it, so it shall be.”

  The Fae looked stoic, but there were smudges under his eyes, signs of worry on a normally smooth face.

  “Why don’t you go and rest? I will watch over Lorcan, as well as his guard. It can’t have been easy sifting back with me attached.”

  He inclined his head. “It is more tiring bringing a passenger. By your leave, Goddess.”

  “Please, Quigley, call me Azar.”

  He just inclined his head and melted into the trees.

  She sat next to Lorcan’s still form, and entwined her fingers between his. She didn’t know if it would help, but it definitely couldn’t do harm. Halona and Doc had stripped him down, and all his two-inch gashes gaped at her like gruesome smiles. He was still unconscious, and she couldn’t help but think that his unconsciousness was a blessing.

  She’d dropped off their recovered prizes to Killian, who had the other four Great Weapons hidden away somewhere in the dens with a permanent guard. She knew that using the weapons to free the original Djinn was a solid contingency plan, but she couldn’t help the tremor of trepidation. It was like busting out an entire prison of psychopaths and letting them loose on the suburbs. Fear was a physical force in the air.

  She stood and pressed a light kiss to Lorcan’s forehead. She had to go and debrief everyone about the mission, and then she needed a shower. She looked down and belatedly realized that she was still wearing the blood-soaked slave garb of the Fae. That explained some of the strange looks she’d garnered on her way to the infirmary.

  She met Bast as she stepped out into the hall, closing the door to Lorcan’s hospital room behind her with a slight click.

  Thank the gods you are safe. I hate when you go on missions and I am unable to be there to watch your back.

  Azar shook her head. “You were needed here. Besides, there were plenty of people to watch my back. We were successful in the mission, and that's all that matters.” She couldn’t think of the two Fae soldiers who hadn’t returned with the group. They’d been victorious, but not without losses. She’d made a point of asking the Guard that was watching over Lorcan the names of the fallen soldiers. He’d refused to tell her. They believed that saying the name of a person who had died recently would stop their souls from moving on to the Goddess. She resisted the urge to order him to do so, as a representative of his Goddess, instead mentally naming them Fae Soldier One and Two. They went on her list of regrets, right below Becca. People whose safety had been her responsibility, and that she’d failed. She would mourn each of them, and she knew that more would be added to that list before this war had played out.

  I hate seeing those shadows in your eyes, Jaanaman.

  She gave him a sad smile. “I need to feel the grief. I need to feel each and every loss personally. It reminds me what I am fighting for. I have a healthy respect for Mistress Death.”

  He didn’t say anything else, just remaining beside her, a warm comforting presence. She walked to her room like a zombie, throwing the gauzy fabric of her slave dress into the trash, setting it on fire. Bast left her to go to the debrief meeting, but she could tell he wanted to stay.

  Slipping into the ensuite, she began scrubbing the blood from every inch of her skin. She watched as the water swirled pink around the shower drain and breathed in a long, shuddery breath. She could do this, she knew it. She repeated it over and over to herself, driving it into her own subconscious. There was no alternative.

  There was a light knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  She expected Oliver, but when Donovan walked into the bathroom, she didn’t know whether she should cover up or not.

  “Oh, it's you.”

  He turned his back, giving her some privacy. “Bast thought it was best if one of us was with you right now. Oliver is out running patrols, but I can get Jack if you wish.”

  She could have slapped her own forehead. She understood now how her words must have sounded. But she was happy it was Donovan.

  “I’m glad it’s you. Bast would feel guilty, and Oliver would try and make me feel better. Jack is Jack.” He wasn’t out of touch with human emotions, but his blood sang to hers, and his emotions would reflect in her own, and she wasn’t sure she could deal with the heavy dose of guilt that would surely come with it. “You’re perfect. Besides, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  Donovan cleared his throat, his shoulders tense, but he didn’t turn around.

  She reached out and snagged the back of his shirt, dragging him into the shower and under the hot spray of the water. He spun, the water dripping down his face as his shirt now clung to his broad shoulders.

  It was time to woman up. She was the most unsure of Donovan. She wanted him, and he wanted her, of that she was certain. But would he want more? “I wanted to tell you that I spoke with Bast. And Oliver. If you want…” Jesus, what the hell was she trying to say. How did you tell someone that she got the okay from her boyfriend to make him a boyfriend as well? How freakin’ ridiculous. “What Oliver suggested, it’s okay with Bast. And Oliver, of course. That is, if you still want such a thing. I mean, I do, but I respect your decision either way and it won’t affect our friendsh-”

  His mouth found hers and he devoured her whole. At least, that’s what it felt like, his hands running along her skin as he pressed her hard against the bathroom tiles.

  “I’ve wanted this for so damn long,” he growled as he pulled away and kissed his way down her neck. “Since the first time I saw you in my office, all sassy and sexy and I just wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck the sass right out of you.”

  “Really?” Her words were almost a squeak. “I had no idea.” His words sent electric heat to her center. Damn.

  “Uh huh. And then you helped me with Freya, and that’s when I wanted more from you than a quick fuck. You loved her as much as I did, more than her own mother did, and I couldn’t help it anymore. I didn’t just want your body. I wanted your heart and that’s something I thought was purely for the fucking Jann. The that damn cat gave me hope. I am Shaitan. We do not hope. We do not love.”

  His mouth slipped around her nipple and she moaned, pressing herself closer. He didn’t speak anymore as his mouth moved from one nipple to the next. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, holding him close but giving him free rein.

  He dropped to his knees in front of her, and slid his hands down her back, squeezing her ass as he kissed down her stomach.

  “You should stop me,” he said, looking up at her with those normally impenetrable eyes basically begging her to say yes despite his words. “Say no. You deserve better than to live on the edge of fear for the rest of your life. You deserve fun with Oliver and worship from Bast. Wonder from the Fae. I can only give you anger, pain and fear.”

  She wanted to tell him that she was as far from anger as a girl can get, but he was lifting he
r leg over his shoulder despite his words. He dropped his head low, kissing over her hip and she gripped at his chin. The look of defeat on his face when she tilted his head up broke her heart. He thought she was about to say no. She was going to fix that.

  “I want you,” she told him gently, imploring him with her eyes to believe her. “The only thing you are giving me right now is pleasure, and if you stop, I might kick your ass.”

  He laughed and it was a fucking beautiful sound. In response, he buried his face between her thighs and she lost all reason. He was rough, his beard scraping on her thigh and his teeth nipping so she was writhing on the knife’s edge of pleasure and pain.

  Her orgasm hit her like a thunderbolt. Her knees turned to jelly and she fell to her knees in front of him. He didn’t try and catch her, but he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her again, as they both knelt there under the thundering water.

  He pulled away, and she resisted the urge to chase his lips with hers. He reached up and turned off the water. “You need to go to the debriefing.”

  She nuzzled against his chest. “Or you could take me to bed?”

  His body shuddered and he closed his eyes. She could see the painfully hard bulge in his leather pants. She wondered how hard it was to get out of wet leather. “I could, but you need to get to work. They’ll be waiting for your report,” he said, sounding pained.

  Azar sighed, and looked into that face she once thought looked cruel. The fear was a steady hum that crawled along her flesh, but she could ignore it if she tried. “Why did I agree to be the Councilor again?”

  He stood and pulled her from the shower. “Because you saw an injustice and you couldn’t let it rest.” He wrapped her in a fluffy towel. “It’s one of the things I…like about you.”

  With that, he gave her one last peck on the lips and left.

  Dressed in fresh combat gear, she strode into the War Room, and it was as busy as ever. It appeared no one was getting any sleep. Aaron and Killian were there, along with the leader of the Werehawk scouts, who was talking to Mira and Bast. Azar had insisted Ethan, the Captain of the Unbound, be there too. The guy obviously had extensive military experience, and the Unbound made up the largest force within the army. They deserved to be represented. She refused to allow them to be cannon fodder.