King of Flames

by Ana Calin

  “But then why not try to reach an agreement with Apophis, serve him all the worlds on a golden platter in exchange for saving yours?”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Cerys. And why do you keep probing?” I snap. “Why keep trying to find a good side to me? I’m a villain, and that’s that.”

  “Oh, really? Then why sacrifice a good part of the power you regained through me and give it to Nazarean? Why are you looking after him the way you do? Because, if you haven’t realized it, he’s purring on your shoulder, and you’re stroking him.”

  It’s true. Trying to be as much of a dick as possible to Cerys, I didn’t pay much attention to the details of what was going on around me.

  “Please,” she says in a voice so soft that it melts the lava in my veins. “Tell me the truth. I’m here, with you, trusting you, willing to help you, ready to walk down this road with you to the very end.” She places a hand on my forearm, and my cock stiffens like an iron rod. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, my head down, doing my best to hide how my body is reacting to her. She awakens the needs of masculinity in me, my manhood raging to feed on her feminine energy.

  “I can’t believe that someone who’s taking care of my familiar as they would take care of one of their own, who spared the guards at the Grand Mage’s because of a promise, can be purely evil. In fact, I don’t believe in pure evil as it is. If you chose the path of evil, you must have a reason why.”

  Damn, she’s not gonna stop, is she? I can feel the connection between us strengthen by the second. My head snaps up, my eyes burning red, making her jolt back.

  “Why don’t you ask me why I created armies of Undead, and how I created them? Why don’t you ask me more about the deaths in the dark alleyways of Flipside Edinburgh?”

  Her mouth presses in a harsher expression, but she won’t back off. “I’ll get to that, too, no worries. But first, answer me this—why do you want to take over the worlds?”

  “Because they’re being incompetently led.” The truth just blurts out of me, and now that I’ve started, it pours out like an avalanche. I can’t stop. “And when the rulers are not incompetent, they’re spoiled brats who refuse to get their hands dirty when the world needs them to.”

  “Are you talking about Lysander?” Her voice is free of any judgment.

  “About him, about the King of the Seelie, and you know what, even the Lord Protector.”

  “The Grim Reaper of the human world?”

  I scoff, but it sounds more like a snarl. “The Grim Reaper. The job is barely worth the title. Taking human souls, bah. What could be easier than overpowering humans? They’re physically so fragile. People like you, parahumans, you’re stronger, but not by much. Not even reaping your souls would be much of a challenge. Unlike the Grim Reaper, those like me, and even Lysander, we only pick on bastards our own size, or a few sizes bigger. That is how I came to fight Apophis and Orion.”

  “Would you mind explaining? I’d love to know more about that.”

  I do mind, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I need to tell her.

  “Two thousand years ago, my powers increased so much that hardly anyone could stand against me, except Lysander, the King of Frost, and a few others, so few that you could count them all on one hand. We were all young and wild, and the Council of the Arcane decided to use our youth and enthusiasm in a productive way, to make the best of it. They assigned Lysander with enforcing the law against trespassers into the mortal world, and me with keeping cosmic threats, like Apophis and Orion, from entering our system of realms. I have been doing it ever since. It was a nasty job, but I grew into it, and soon even felt at home doing it. I had accepted the task as a part of me, I integrated it, sacrificing my soul for the cause, and for the safety of all realms. The job ended up devouring the best in me, but it also gave me a sense of purpose and duty that kept me going even in the worst circumstances.

  “But in time the realms began taking my work for granted. Of course, dealing with so much darkness for centuries and millennia takes a toll. One becomes dark and diabolical, because there’s no other way to survive the kind of threats I had to fend off. So members of the other realms started to plot against me. The very realms I was fighting to protect started to give me hell. That’s how my repulsion and anger against them was born.”

  “Repulsion? Not hatred?”

  I scoff. “Hatred. That’s a feeling specific to humans and parahumans, we feel things differently.” Even though right now I couldn’t be baser or more human, wanting to stick my cock into her the way I do. Our connection grows, burning hot, and there’s nothing I can do to stop sharing all this with her.

  “When your people, fire fae, started infiltrating the Winter Realm and assassinating winter fae, Lysander’s subjects, was that your order? Was that some form of revenge for the evil reputation others had started to fabricate about you?”

  “You insist on giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Because you’re confirming what I knew all along. That there’s a reason behind your actions, even behind your feelings.”

  Her accepting tone and attitude breaks through my last defenses. It feels so liberating to talk about all this after millennia of frustrated silence, that it’s scary.

  “I never had my people attack random winter fae. The rumors that had started to spread about my people and me are just that, rumors. The truth behind them is very different. But the rumors did a fine job of instilling fear and hatred. Parahumans, fae, shifters, vampires and all kinds of supernaturals made a point of killing fire fae, with the ultimate purpose of getting to me, when in truth my people and I were the first line of defense against the cosmic behemoths. We’d been sacrificing ourselves to keep those who hated us safe, and yes, some of my people might have responded violently to the attacks. Ravaged by PTSD and scarred by their experiences, they were unable to forgive such betrayal.”

  “I wish I’d witnessed some of the things you went through,” she says softly. “So I can understand you better.”

  “No, Cerys. The smallest part of it would change you forever. The beautiful glow of your face.” I lean forward, unable to refrain from taking her chin between my fingers. “Bitterness and pain would replace it, and that would be a pity.”

  Cerys’ eyes fall to my mouth, and her lips part as if she’s fascinated with me.

  “I knew you weren’t a villain. That there was a reason behind everything you did.”

  I want to bring up the armies of Undead. Remind her that I am, in the end, a villain, no matter what turned me into one. But instead, I bend forward and crush her lips under mine.

  The moment I feel her soft mouth on mine she wants to back up, but I don’t let her. I cup the back of her head with my hand, and slide my tongue between her lips. She doesn’t try to push me away, probably too stunned by what’s happening. As for me, I’m not exactly sure either. Her scent, the feel of her, it just pulls me in like an irresistible magnet. It pulls at every part of me. I want to plaster her to my body, rip the duvet away from her, so I can crush her milky breasts under my chest.

  My cock hardens so much that it hurts, my jeans tightening against it. I make an effort of will to push myself away from her, but she grabs the lapels of my leather vest and opens her mouth against mine, inviting me in. Even if I could have stopped a moment ago, there’s no way I’m stopping now. Her palms slide under my vest, pushing it off of me, and I don’t even try to stop her.

  My instincts scream for me to pull her over me, onto my lap, to push her legs open with my thighs and bring her down to straddle me, but I don’t get to. She throws off the duvet herself, and climbs onto my lap, breaking the kiss and straightening up to let me get a clear view of her.

  High realms. The girl is completely naked, her milky skin and perky breasts right under my nose. I cup her breasts and let out a growl as I knead her soft mounds. Her hands wander from my shoulders to my arms, and to my chest, her honey eyes tracing patterns on my skin. At first I think that s
he’s working some kind of magic, but then I understand she takes as much delight in my body as I do in hers, and my heart leaps.

  I want to pull her into me and kiss her with my tongue again, but before I get to, she bends down and crushes her mouth against mine. She slips her tongue inside my mouth, kissing me wildly for minutes on end like she owns me, and I love it beyond rhyme and reason. I never thought I’d enjoy a woman claiming my mouth like this.

  She pushes her breasts against my chest, sliding against me, sweaty with excitement. She rubs her naked sex against my cock through my jeans, the scent of her arousal going to my head.

  I push my hands into her silky hair, leaning her back and kissing her jaw, her neck, her delicate collarbones that I loved from the start, and ending up taking her nipples greedily into my mouth. At this point I already know I won’t be able to stop. I throw her on the bed, face up, ready to undo my pants and dip my cock inside of her.

  But Nazarean meows, wedging himself between us. He’s clearly desperate to separate us because, in his great wisdom as a creature of the underworld, he knows this would be a catastrophe for both of us.

  “Oh, realms,” Cerys yelps, as if she just realized that she’s naked on the bed under me. I shoot up to my feet, and shake my head in an attempt to pull my scrambled wits back together. She grabs the sheets on the bed and wraps them around herself, staring up at me as if she just woke up from a dream, and has no idea what has happened.

  “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” I growl, cursing myself for having started this madness, fully aware I’m the only one to blame. She’s innocent in this. She just couldn’t resist the connection between us.

  The only way I can fix this is by hurting her feelings, it’s the only thing that will sever this bond once and for all. “I haven’t been with a woman in over a year. Us fire fae have more testosterone than humans, parahumans or other supernaturals, so we like fucking. A lot.”

  Her small, white, glowing hands ball with fury on the sheet above her breasts. “So that’s what this was all about. Testosterone.”

  “And fucking.” I hold her stare, my features hard, rigid, my cock still erect and painful in my jeans.

  Fuck, I need to get off somehow. But I can’t go and leave her alone, not for a minute, not in the state she’s in. She’s boiling with anger, her glare filled with a feeling of betrayal.

  “Well, the next time your lusty nature gets the better of you, go find yourself a hooker.” She stares me up and down like she could fuck me and slap me at the same time. “Or maybe just pick a girl up down at the bar. The way you look, you won’t have a hard time luring dozens to you. I’ve heard rumors about women falling at your feet, King of Fire. But this one never will.”

  Cerys

  WITH THAT, I TURN MY back on him, wrapped in the bed sheets, and hug Nazarean to my chest. I cry soundlessly until late in the night, trying hard not to sniffle. Xerxes doesn’t sleep at all, and I remember that I learned some time ago that the King of Fire rarely ever sleeps. He doesn’t need the same amount of it that the rest of us do.

  I listen to him turning the pages of the tome for hours, until exhaustion gets the better of me. My sleep is deep, dark, and quick, as I wake up when the first morning rays already filter through the window.

  But the moment my eyes land on Xerxes’ broad back, pain slams into my chest. I can feel the connection between us, alive and vibrating.

  I freaking hate the way it makes me feel.

  I get out of bed quietly, looking for Nazarean. I find him lapping at his milk by Xerxes’ desk, and I hate it that the scene warms my heart. I tiptoe to the bathroom where I’ve left my latex catsuit. Xerxes seems to still be fully engrossed in his reading, not minding me, and I don’t want him to see me until I’m dressed.

  I return to the room with my hair braided, the latex suit molding to the shape of my body. I carry myself more confidently than before, and if I’m honest it’s because I want to tease him.

  “Found anything new in there?” I say casually, but in truth it’s an effort to address him. It’s not like I want to run out and hide either, but I just wish I didn’t have to speak to him at all.

  But when he raises his eyes from the book I see something in them that wasn’t there yesterday. It’s not anger, or worry, or the forbidding air that’s natural to him. It’s the expression of a man who discovered something he didn’t expect.

  “I did, and it’s not good.” He sounds so calm it’s worrisome.

  “What do you mean?”

  He gets up from the chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. The faintest shadow of stubble covers his jaw, enhancing his manly, brutish air.

  “The Cemetery of Doom,” he begins, opening the window to let in fresh air. “Getting through it in order to reach the Firestone will be more difficult than I originally calculated. And then using the Firestone will have its own challenges.”

  “One thing at a time.” I join him by the window, and we both look out to the now busy cobbled street under it. I think it’s a Sunday fair, people assembling a flea market for magic items. The smell of coffee and magic nectar rises in the air.

  “Well, how much do you know about the Cemetery of Doom?”

  “I know only criminals have been buried there. The earth surrounding the tombs is cursed. All the souls under them can only go to Samael, the gatekeeper to both Heaven and Hell, and only if they pass his test do they have a chance of passing into Heaven. But most people think that’s only a legend.”

  “Do you know what else the legend says?”

  “It says many things, what exactly are you getting at?”

  “The souls that fail Samael’s test are cursed to roam the Cemetery forever, and feed on the souls of those who trespass. No one who ever set foot in the Cemetery ever made it back.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “Are you afraid of the Cemetery, is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Of course not,” he replies calmly. “I’m not afraid for myself. I’m afraid for you.”

  “Well, it’s true that I’m not a dark mage, or even a witch in the real sense of the word. But.” I bump my shoulder lightly against his like a comrade. “Let’s not forget my father is Hades, and my brother Zillard Dark, the strongest of the Dark Warlocks. That should count for something.”

  “You have tapped into dark powers before?” Xerxes inquires, his eyes searching my face as if looking for signs. I smile.

  “No, but Zillard taught me a few tricks. Like, I know that stabbing hellish creatures in the heart would send them back to the Underworld, even if it won’t kill them.”

  “Cerys.” He turns to me, resting with an elbow on the windowsill. He looks sinfully good, like a handsome devil in the daylight, and pretending he doesn’t have that effect on me gets harder by the minute. “Theory and practice are two very different things. Besides, in the case of these creatures, their bodies are already dead. It won’t do much, using weapons against them, it will only slow them down. I think maybe, I should train you before we travel there. Train you to use your own natural powers as weapons.”

  “Train me?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I will be looking after you and Nazarean at the Cemetery, but I know from experience something always goes wrong. You need to be able to survive on your own for at least a few minutes if anything should separate you from me. I will find you as quickly as possible, but even a few minutes on your own can be deadly unless you have the proper means to defend yourself.”

  “But do we even have time for that? For training I mean?” I let my eyes wander over his entire body, only this time I can do it with cool assessment. “The magic that I channeled into you is already waning. You helped restore Nazarean’s strength, and that drained you.” Another detail that warms my heart towards him. I curse on the inside, wishing here was something I could do to fight away these feelings that keep whirling inside me despite the obstinacy with which I try to press a lid down on them.

  “We’ll make time.”
<
br />   “But you’re losing steam. We can’t waste a single day.”

  “We’ll have to waste a number of them, I’m afraid.” He motions out the window to the crowd underneath it. “We can’t travel during the day. People would recognize us. No doubt Lysander, Arielle, your brother Zillard and your father Hades have dozens of troops searching for you.”

  “They must have lost our trail though. Without the tome, no one knows where we’ll be looking for the Firestone, they have no idea where to start looking for us.”

  “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that any seller with a stand at this flea market could be a scout.”

  I look down at the stands glowing in the sunlight. It’s going to be a bright day, but I suppose I won’t be enjoying much of it.

  “We’ll have to stay put until nightfall,” he confirms. “Here—you might want to read this.”

  He opens the tome to the section about the Cemetery of Doom, a grim expression on his face. “You might want to brace yourself for what you’re about to find out.”

  CHAPTER V

  Cerys

  I watch as the sun disappears behind the hills, taking its warmth away with it. I rub my arms against the evening chill, thinking about what I’ve read. What I didn’t understand, Xerxes explained to me, and it only made matters worse. Him, with all his experience defending the realms against cosmic behemoths has a strong stomach for things like this, but he doesn’t like it any more than I do.

  Nobody in their right mind would.

  “Every night corpses crawl out of their graves, and roam the hill,” I breathe. “Travelling by night, we might not even reach the top.”

  “We will,” Xerxes replies. “We will only travel by night until we reach the hill. Few people venture into those parts, so we will be able to climb it by day unseen. If night catches us there, I will carry you and Nazarean, but you must hold on tight and not let go no matter what.”