Triad (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  “I’m talking about my having a job to do, and your not being allowed to stand in my way.”

  The woman’s mulishness made Thalia narrow her eyes. “Just tell him he can come and get me himself.”

  “Why bother?” Magda said with a shrug. Before Thalia could reply, Magda’s wings were out. She flew across the room and swept straight into Thalia’s personal space.

  Unable to take a step back without tumbling onto the bed, which really would shove her into a defenseless position, she watched as Magda hovered in front of her.

  It was instinct that had her looking into the woman’s eyes.

  An Alpha female lowered her gaze for no man or woman, only the strongest in her vicinity, and that definitely wasn’t Magda.

  But, sadly for Thalia, that had her trapped. The bright blue orbs trapped Thalia in their grasp, holding her tighter than chains ever could as she fell into the swirling quagmire of those cerulean pools. Trapped, imprisoned, and so captured that she didn’t even have it in her to fear Magda’s end goal.

  ****

  Thalia

  “You bastard!”

  The shriek pierced Thalia’s skull with the precision of her own sword. It made the dull, throbbing ache pound harder, and as she tried to process it, wishing all the while and knowing it was futile for Rafe’s healing touch, she squinted as she tried to force her eyes open.

  The minute she did, she regretted it.

  The last thing she needed was confirmation that she’d been an idiot.

  She knew the danger Fae eyes presented. She knew what could and would happen if she fell into their mesmerizing power. While she’d apparently gained the skill to work with Alexander the Great’s sword, and could breathe underwater, it would seem that being Theo’s fated didn’t remove the susceptibility of falling into a trance when mesmerized by one of the Fae.

  Wanting to huff because that would have been so much more practical than the ability to survive underwater without taking a breath, she didn’t. If she huffed, it would make her head hurt all the more, and if she was going to figure out what the fuck was going on, she’d need her wits about her.

  All she knew was that Magda, Theo’s assistant—a female he’d trusted for the two hundred years of his self-imposed exile—had turned traitor.

  There was hope that, for whatever reason, she’d betrayed Theo to one of the other factions, but because Thalia didn’t seem to have any filter in her life save for dire, she had a nasty feeling that the bastard Magda was calling out was no other than Morningstar. Because, yeah, she was having one of those days, and that really would round things off nicely. But also because the only true enemy the Fae had now were their Dark brethren. Thalia would only hold value to an enemy.

  More’s the pity.

  Beneath her, rough stone bit into her skin. She still wore a toga, and while in Heden, that was adequate cover, here it wasn’t. The chill seeped into her bones from the stone below her, but more than that, it was in the air.

  Which, if she thought about it, was ironic.

  The Devil was supposed to live in hell. A place that was supposed to be hotter than the sun. Yet Thalia wanted to shiver it was so cold.

  Grimacing, she rolled her head over the rough ground to pinpoint her focus on the voices that were growing louder and louder.

  It was definitely Magda and a male she didn’t know.

  They were speaking in Latin, but they’d both spill into English when they were truly agitated. Not that the English made all that much sense. It was like they were talking Shakespeare’s English or something. All, “Ye olde bastard,” and “You doth promised.” Shit like that.

  “Ah, she stirs.”

  The male’s voice had Thalia’s eyes popping open. How the fuck had he known that?

  “Your heartbeat,” he answered, though she hadn’t said a word.

  Said heart began to pound like a hammer in her chest. It pounded so hard that it hurt.

  “Calm, child, calm. I have no reason to hurt you.” The male spoke as close to a purr as she’d ever heard anyone sound.

  “You stole me from my home,” Thalia whispered, sitting up from the cold stone floor with a groan as her bones protested the hardness and the chill that pervaded her body like a toxin. “You dumped me on the ground like I was nothing more than trash. I think I have definite reason to be scared,” she ended, resting her elbows on her knees as she sat up straighter, grunting as the ache in her back made itself known and the dull throb in her skull declared war on her nerve endings.

  “She has a point, sire.” This time, it was another male, not Magda who spoke.

  “Aye, Junas, she has a point, but she should know to take a King at his word.”

  “Why would I?” she retorted. “You’re the first Fallen, aren’t you?” she asked, peering at the male who was seated on a throne far grander than the one Isaura sat on.

  Lykens didn’t have the same religious tales as humans, and they sure as shit didn’t attend Sunday school. But, Thalia was like no other Lyken because she’d had more time on her hands than most. She’d devoured everything she could, had learned about humans and Lykens equally.

  She’d heard tales of Lucifer’s vanity, had read of it in the Bible, and his throne was proof of that. But, as she looked upon him, she had to admit he had reason for vanity. The man was stacked. And hot with it.

  Shame he knew it too.

  He didn’t look like Tom Ellis, nor was he bright red with horns on his head. He was glorious.

  His hair was a thousand shades and yet, didn’t settle as one. It was everything and it was nothing. She saw the purest whites, whiter than even her own, she saw the darkest of blacks.

  It should have looked horrendous, should have looked like his stylist had thrown one hundred too many shades in the bowl of dye, but it didn’t.

  It was beautiful.

  It gleamed like the sun, and invited a woman’s touch.

  She stared at his face. So angelically pure save for those knowing eyes. They were the one part of him that didn’t look human. They were a strange amber color, with remnants of red at the back that reminded her of hot embers on coals. They were striated with that odd glow, and she was hard-pressed not to gasp as, the longer she stared at him, the glow grew hotter, brighter.

  It was then, she realized, that she’d done the exact fucking same thing as she had with Magda. Had fallen into his eyes, had allowed herself to be ensnared.

  But, unlike Magda, she hadn’t felt the stirrings of his power.

  Had that been robbed from him when he’d fallen?

  It would make sense. Theo had told her the fallen Fae lost their wings and their abilities to wield the elements, why wouldn’t they have lost other powers?

  He smiled at her, revealing a grin so wickedly sensual something stirred in her belly. It wasn’t necessarily arousal or lust because she was no longer capable of feeling that thanks to her mate bond. But it was definitely something. And it made her uncomfortable.

  Very, very uncomfortable because she could only imagine the power of that smile if she wasn’t safe from his touch.

  Morningstar’s throne was about twelve feet high. It was also the sole point of luxury in this cavernous chamber. The walls were hewn from the same cold stone as the floors, and there was no color in the space either. It was an endless expanse of stone, and the room was certainly large enough to hold something, anything, other than just the throne and smaller chairs that were bland in their style.

  Morningstar’s was at the center of the back wall, but around him, there were three on either side. They weren’t vacant, they were filled with three men and three women who were eyeing her like she was a bounty.

  Thalia didn’t appreciate their attention.

  Morningstar’s leather throne was studded with gold and silver, adorned with rubies and diamonds. It was patterned in no real design, but it reminded her of a lustrous mosaic. It shone brightly in the room, like a gleaming beacon. It suited him, really.

&nbs
p; Amid this dark and dank squalor, he was a shining light.

  And it felt weird as fuck calling the Devil himself the ‘shining light.’

  Shivering at the very thought, she winced as more aches in her body made themselves known to her as she clambered to her feet.

  Spying Magda a few feet from the throne, she clenched her jaw. “He promise you life everlasting for your lover?” she guessed.

  Magda scowled at her. “How do you know about her?”

  Thalia smirked. “I have a mate who tells me shit.” She dusted off her ass and peered around the chamber now she was on her feet. It wasn’t better for being looked at from a different perspective. “Well, hate to say it, Morningstar. I hate what you’ve done with the place.”

  Silence fell at her irreverent and snarky comment as she carried on looking around at the corners of the chamber that were loaded with cobwebs, and the sheer lack of any ornament save for Morningstar’s throne. Tilting back her head to look up at him, she smiled. “You had fancier digs back on Heden.”

  He pursed his lips but his eyes were glinting, seriously glinting. Those parts that glowed? They were doing some serious shit right about now.

  Perhaps it was madness, perhaps it was a testament to how far she’d been pushed to the edge, but she didn’t care.

  He’d brought her here for a reason, and whether she was in danger or not, she wasn’t going to watch her mouth.

  The only thing he could do was kill her. And he’d do that whether she used lip on him or not.

  “You’re not scared of me, then?”

  She sniffed. “Have you seen Isaura?” she asked. “Have you come across my fathers? I’m used to being around megalomaniacs.” She grimaced at him. “You’re all the same. But I won’t pander to your ego. I’m not built for bullshit.”

  Though he pursed his lips, he bridged his fingers, pressing the tips into a steeple onto which he rested his chin. “How… interesting.”

  “I’ll bet.” She cocked her head to the side as she studied Magda once more. The woman literally screamed ‘nervous.’ She was toeing her damn feet and her wings were fluttering like she really needed to go potty and there was a ten-strong line for the bathroom. “Do you really give them what they want?” She didn’t hide her sneer at the word ‘them.’

  Morningstar narrowed his eyes. “Why would that interest you?”

  “I’ve just been used as a bargaining chip. I’d like to know if you’ll follow through with the promises you made to get Magda to betray a man she’s worked for, for a very long time.”

  Morningstar eyed her. “Do you care?”

  She bared her teeth. “Let’s just say I’m curious.”

  His nostrils flared, but he slouched back against his throne. He was wearing a very expensive, very sleek tailored suit. It was cut to the lines of his body with the touch of a lover’s hand, and as he slumped back, the buttons on his shirt pulled slightly, revealing a glimpse of skin as pure as porcelain.

  She dragged her gaze away from the innocent display, and seeing the smirk on his chops, just smirked right back.

  Sometimes, the best way to fight fire was with fire.

  “No. I don’t give them what they want,” he said after a few seconds.

  Magda released a sharp cry before she sagged against the floor, dropping to her knees with a thud that made Thalia’s own ache.

  “Then, why do they keep on coming to you? Surely news spreads, the population isn’t that big. Why don’t all the Fae know you’re a lying, backstabbing shit?”

  He laughed, and though it surprised her, she realized it was genuine. He was amused by her comment, not pissed off. After his chuckles tapered off, she peered around the men and women who were seated beside him.

  Unlike Morningstar, they were sober-faced. Their mouths puckered into firm lines and their brows not even creased with a frown. They revealed nothing, neither disapproval nor hatred.

  Who were they?

  Obviously important enough to be here, but… then she remembered. What had Theo told her? Morningstar had fallen into temptation with six faction leaders at his side.

  These were his generals. His Legios.

  Well, that certainly racketed up her tension.

  These creatures here?

  They were the reason for her existence.

  She wasn’t around just to answer to two prophecies that were Goddess-sent, but were it not for their behavior those many millennia ago, the earth as she knew it wouldn’t exist.

  It was a chilling thought.

  How could she be grateful when that gratitude was aimed at the Devil?

  She shivered at the thought and trained her attention on Morningstar when he murmured, “I don’t offer the promise of eternal life to those who betray their own kind,” he explained as he got to his feet. When he was standing, he held out his left hand and the po-faced General didn’t even blink when he passed over a dagger.

  Morningstar curled his fingers about it as he jumped off the dais upon which his throne was seated, and strode over to Magda.

  She cringed, but she didn’t stand. Thalia eyed the scene with discomfort. What the hell was he about to do?

  Kill Magda?

  The notion didn’t necessarily dissatisfy her. The bitch had betrayed Theo after all, and had led Thalia into damn danger. But...

  Frowning with her unease, she asked, “What are you going to do with that?”

  “Magda knows the price of her punishment,” was all he said, and when he pressed the tip of the knife to Magda’s back, a noise escaped Thalia as she watched Morningstar cut off Magda’s left wing.

  The woman’s shrill scream echoed around the chamber. It was perfectly tuned, the sound effects in here en pointe as it ricocheted inside Thalia’s head. She slammed her hands against her ears but she could still hear it. The endless screech of echoing agony until she felt sure she’d hear that noise forever and ever.

  Amen.

  Gulping at the sight of the torn flesh in Morningstar’s hand as he hefted it up, he showed her it. The feathers fluttered as though the muscles were still working with whatever blood flow was remaining in their veins. He tossed the wing aside once he knew she’d gotten a good look at the now-destroyed limb, and the heavy weight slammed into the ground with a distasteful splat that turned Thalia’s stomach.

  When Morningstar bent down to give the other the same treatment, Thalia couldn’t help herself. She closed her eyes.

  There was no way she could watch Morningstar deface such beauty.

  “Oh, it’s not I,” he said, his tone close to a singsong—could he read her damn mind? “It is her punishment. And she will accept it,” he told Thalia, his tone easy. “Mostly because she has no choice, but also because she will follow her lover.”

  “My lover?” Magda’s sobs died down as her focus shifted to Morningstar’s last words. “You’ll help her live?”

  He bent down and ran his finger down the bridge of her nose. For some reason, Thalia found that particularly creepy. It was such an invasion of personal space that she too wanted to rear back, away from the man whose pleasure in causing Magda physical and emotional pain was evident in the fire burning in his eyes.

  “I’ll let her live.”

  Thalia snorted. “What’s the catch?”

  Morningstar and Magda’s attention switched to her. Morningstar’s head was tilted to the side, but Magda’s glance was loaded with impatient loathing.

  Thalia just shrugged. “Did you never see Bedazzled?”

  “Bedazzled?” Morningstar repeated. “No. It may come as a surprise to you, mortal, that I don’t keep up to date with your piddling entertainments.”

  She cocked a brow at Magda. “You should have watched that before you came to any deal with him. Yeah, he’ll give you what you want, but there’ll be a catch.” She cocked her hip. “There always is.”

  Morningstar’s smile was blinding. Light literally cascaded from him as he snapped his fingers in a move so reminiscent of Theo, Thalia
actually felt a sob brew in her chest. “She’s not wrong, Magda.”

  “Should have read the fine print, girl,” Thalia said, but her voice was a little hoarse. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been away from her mates, but she missed them with an intensity that burned her insides. Just seeing that one small hand gesture powered a thousand memories of Theo doing some crazy shit that bewildered her, Rafe, and Mikkel.

  How she wished that was what she was seeing. Not the limp, twitching mass of torn flesh, muscle, and bone.

  Magda whimpered as she stared at the slain wings that had been dumped like trash on the floor. Blood seeped out of the rootings, and the feathers, so white and pure, were stained scarlet. The blood was so red, it was closer to black, and the way it pooled in the crack of the stones made Thalia’s stomach churn.

  “Will I have my lover?” the other woman asked, her eyes trained on the wings, her real question was spoken wordlessly: was the deal we struck worth this?

  “Yes. But she won’t be as pretty as the last time you saw her.”

  Before Magda could ask another question, Morningstar dropped down to his haunches, grabbed the Fae female by the throat and leaped up in a dynamic move that would impress a Russian Mazurka dancer with his agility. Thalia jolted when he then threw Magda against the wall. As her fragile body slammed into the stones, her eyes flared wide before some kind of vortex sucked her through it, and, with a pop, she disappeared.

  While Thalia knew there was more magic in the world than most were aware of, and having lived in the land of the Fae long enough to see that the crazy was possible, she’d never seen that before.

  Her heart started pounding again and its dull thud made one start up in her skull. She reached up to cup the back of her head in a futile attempt to soothe the ache away. Even as she tried, she looked at Morningstar and asked, “Where did you send her?”

  “Earth.”

  His answer wasn’t cocky, if anything, it was utterly free from emotion. The human tales set her up not to trust him, but Theo’s caution worked more on her than a lifetime’s learning.

  Theo had told her that Morningstar was capable of acts even he found heinous. Which, for a twelve thousand year old man, was saying a lot she’d come to learn.