by A. K. Koonce
My heartbeat kicks up so loudly that it pounds in my ears.
“I will,” Nathiale says with certainty. “I just have to take care of one thing first.”
I swallow hard. Of all the times I’ve imagined slicing a blade through Nathiale’s heart, I never once pictured him doing the same to me.
Not until now.
“There was some trash I needed to pick up in the human realm, but someone told me it’s recently arrived right here in my own kingdom. Once I take care of that, I’ll have your token.”
That bastard. Trash! My blood is just as pure as his.
Pure blood? Really? He, too, has a demon infecting his bloodstream? Catherine asks dryly.
I roll my eyes at her, and she goes silent, but I feel her humming through my veins. Any time my anxiety climbs, hers also does, times ten. And that is the last thing I want. Especially right now.
I calm my breathing and take a step back.
I need to leave. Before something bad happens.
My foot barely takes a single step when the course of the wind changes. The cool breeze slips into the shadows, and I can’t explain why it feels so ominous.
It pulls at my long silver locks. It twirls and carries my shining hair. I realize a second too late that the magic of the shadows has slipped away from the long strands. The ends blow past the entryway of the door.
It’s only a second. It’s a single second of my hair glinting in the moonlight.
My brother’s gaze cuts away from the hulking figure standing before him.
He can’t see me. He can’t see me. He can’t see me.
I say those words over and over again.
Because he’s staring right at me.
My feet pound over the cold stones fast before my wings rip out from my shoulder blades, and I soar down the dark staircase without looking back to see if he’s following after me.
The hard flapping of my wings is silent, but the slamming of my heartbeat is a telling thing.
He didn’t see me. He didn’t see me. He didn’t see me.
My toes don’t even skim the floor when I collide into Zaviar’s chest. His arms wrap around me, and he feels like a safe haven of warmth, but it doesn’t calm me.
Words never leave my lips through the choking breaths I’m gasping down.
It seems I don’t need to speak.
Because in the next instant, he sweeps us away in foreign but gentle magic. His power around me roars to life. The energy builds into something powerful and pure.
And then we’re gone.
16
A Demonic Angel
Aries
Zaviar drops me with a heaving breath. I land on all fours, my palms sinking into a soft blue mat, but I can’t focus on its color or the cool feel of it beneath my fingers. I can’t pause to wonder how Zaviar used his magic inside the castle when demon magic is forbidden there. I can’t think at all through the clawing feeling of the demon inside me.
Just breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
My hair trembles around my face as my head shakes violently back and forth.
Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.
“Get on your feet,” a growling voice commands, breaking through my waning mantras and distracting me momentarily from Catherine’s pressure clawing at my chest.
A boot nudges my ribs and I collapse on my side with barely any force from the man standing above me.
It’s Ryke. His watchful green eyes assess me, but he keeps his stern look heavy in his features.
“Fuck off. Shit! She’s fighting that thing inside her.” Zaviar pushes Ryke’s scarred shoulder, but the man’s so large he barely moves from the shove of Zav’s hand.
“Get up, Crow,” Ryke whispers in his gravelly tone that feels more intimate than intimidating. “You really want me to kick your ass lying down? I will. I won’t like it, but I will.”
My head pounds with so much slashing pain, it might split right open, and Catherine will finally be free.
And so will I.
“You gonna let that cunt inside you win, or you gonna to get up and own my ass?” Ryke grabs two wooden swords from a rack and throws one on the ground. It slides fast over the mat and hits my arm hard enough to bruise.
“Ryke. Fuck. Off. Now’s not the time,” Zaviar growls with violence licking his tone. He steps closer to his friend, and even from here, I can see how tightly wired his jaw is as he glares at the demon. Ryke’s frame is larger and stronger but the determined darkness in Zaviar is a terrifying thing.
Before Zaviar can lash out at his friend, Ryke lunges for me. Every muscle in his big arms flexes. The sword in his hand arcs up over his head with slashing intent. His aim is perfect. Whoever taught him would be proud of the blow he’s about to land on my skull. Crushing demonic strength. Perfect angle.
It’s a killing blow.
Even with a wooden sword.
My fingers grab the wooden hilt of the weapon at my side in the blink of an eye. The grain of it digs into my flesh under my hard grip. I fling it above my head with both hands.
His sword slams down on mine, and the mock blade of my weapon splits beneath his weight. It shatters, spitting splinters above me that rain down across my cheeks.
My broken sword holds him off with a thin, jagged end. My weapon’s half the size it used to be, but it holds up against him.
For the moment.
I’m kneeling at his feet, heaving out a breath as he smiles down on me.
“That’s my girl. Show me that fight, baby.” Ryke’s boot meets my bare chest just above my bra. With a small push, he flings me away from him, putting space between us so I have time to recompose myself.
He circles me with lazy confidence and stalking strides.
“That shadow group you were in taught you some good defenses, Crow,” he says with a taunting half smirk as I hobble to my feet.
Shadow group . . .
I’m going to kill Krave. He can’t keep a fucking secret to save his sparkling wings.
But that’s exactly what Ryke is doing right now. He’s trying to get my guard down by shit-talking about things he knows he shouldn’t know about.
He’s conniving.
I like it.
“Thank you,” I say sweetly like he isn’t affecting me at all. As if I’m not imagining how many different ways I could remove Krave’s cock from his body.
I hold my broken blade casually in my lowered hand, watching him watch me with that glinting look in his emerald eyes.
“Who taught you your pretty moves, Ryke?”
His smile fades away, but he never stops circling me. And I let him. My body eats up the energy thrumming inside me that’s commanding me to lash out at him. I harbor that energy. I let it build.
“Before I was a morph demon, I was a Valkyrie. I was taught by the strongest warriors earth has never known.”
My eyebrows lift at that confession because one, I had no idea he was a morph. They’re terrifying when they know your fears. They feed right off of it. And also…
Valkyries are said to be prideful warriors. Massive and powerful creatures. Hateful creatures. No one hates demons more than the protectors of gods.
A sinking emotion drops through my stomach, and I look at him differently now. The man who’s scarred beyond repair. The one with runes carved so deep into his skin, it’s like he’d do anything to stop himself from his own dark fate.
And that’s when he strikes.
His blow arcs down so fast, the blunt end of my broken blade barely collides in time with his. His weapon lodges there within the frayed splinters of my sword. My arms tremble from the force of his strength. His body melds with mine, and stinging heat sears into me where his skin brushes mine.
With my sword, I fling him off of me. He storms right back. Within the span of a single breath, his blade is cutting through the silence and jarring into mine once more.
His battering attacks come one after another after another, until my body is t
rembling from exertion, and my breath is ragged.
He never once uses the deadly iron blades along his arms. It’s like he’s going easy on me, or perhaps he thinks it’s a fairer fight.
“How come you haven’t morphed with me?” I ask breathlessly. I do it to distract him, but I also ask because I’m so fucking out of breath I just need a minute.
“It’s not something I care to share with anyone. I don’t like that side of me,” he says on a casual tone. Not one fucking bit out of breath.
“Show me.” I lift my chin tot him and he studies me for a minute.
And then, he unfortunately does exactly what I asked of him.
He changes into my biggest fear.
How he knows what I fear is beyond me, but he’s clearly paid attention. And it’s just enough to distract me.
His big body melts down into a small frame. His limbs don’t break into crawling creatures like snakes, or spiders. It isn’t a beast I fear most in this world.
The young boy tilts his head, his shining crown moving right along with him. It isn’t the prince’s crown though. It’s the larger, heavier crown of a king. The smile he gives me is one I’ve seen all my life. It used to be genuine once upon a time.
It’s terrifying now.
And seeing my brother as king and ultimate ruler of the Kingdom of Ashes, that’s more fucking terrifying than any monster Ryke could have shown me.
My brother wouldn’t just enslave demons as my father does. He’d annihilate them. He wouldn’t stop until he’d made their race a long-lost memory of extinction.
With a flicker of magic snapping around him, the bulging muscle and long scars cast across his body before he morphs back into demon I know. Big leathery wings shadow across his handsome face.
And then he swings at me.
I fend him off but I’m still shaken and he just keeps coming. Blow after blow after blow. He shoves me back until just a few feet of space separate us.
“Give in yet, baby?” he asks with that same asshole smile. His big body barely has a sheen of sweat clinging to his skin.
His cockiness pisses me off more than anything he could ever say.
But it’s clear he’s too strong for me. Not just physically, but his power too. Fae are naturally stronger than demons, but thanks to Corva, he’s a mixture of high fae, powerful Valkyrie, and demonic energy.
I can’t win.
Not fairly, anyway.
But I know better than anyone that life isn’t fair.
I drop my shattered weapon to the floor, and it hits with a solid thump. From along the wall, Zaviar tilts his head at me with a shocked expression lining his handsome face. Damien now stands in the doorway, his sweeping gaze dragging from me to his friend slowly. He seems healthier than when I saw him last. His attention holds on me with gleaming interest. His new smooth black wings loom behind him. They’re a massive shadow behind him and they only appear to deepen the concerned look in his dark eyes.
Neither of them can seem to believe I just gave in.
They’re smart.
Ryke’s smile stays in place, but the shine in his eyes dims a little with clear disappointment at my willingness to give up.
I’m not giving up.
Not even close.
My bare feet slam over the mat with flashing speed, and when I leap into his arms, he catches me like the benevolent gentleman that he is. His big palm splays wide across my ass as my legs wrap around his lean hips. He squeezes hard against my silk panties.
Did I say gentleman?
Those watchful hooded eyes dip to my lips.
A single second rushes by.
I brush my mouth against his so slowly, I can taste the iron stinging between our tongues. I slide my tongue over his anyway. I delve into the pain of his kiss, and it’s the most addicting feeling of stabbing agony and caressing pleasure.
My palms trail down the jagged lines etching his broad shoulders. Scorching heat licks at my fingertips, but I take my time sliding lower and lower down his bulging bicep.
Every part of him is deliciously big, and it really is a shame no one’s touched him like this. The way his body deserves to be touched. Licked. Fucked.
My palm grazes over his calloused knuckles, and for an instant, my fingers thread with his.
Until I jerk the weapon from his hand and thrust it with all my might between his ribs and arm as if I gutted him right here. Right now.
He continues to kiss me hard like he doesn’t give one single fuck that I just mock-spilled his guts out all over his practice room floor.
He barely puts space between us as his tongue flicks over my lower lip before he bites there slowly.
“If this is your way of distracting me, you’re welcome keep going nice and slow and really slaughter me limb from limb, baby,” he whispers in that rumbling tone like hot sex and warm honey while squeezing my ass with both hands.
Every sensual move he makes is laced with roughness. He’s too powerful to be anything but violent. Even as he kisses me.
My thighs clench around him, and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. He keeps kissing me, and my lips are swollen and sore, but I cling to his shoulders harder and let him lose himself in me as much as I’m losing myself in him.
“I’m hurting you,” he rasps, kissing me slower and slower.
“Not much,” I moan.
His fingers dig into my ass once more before his hold on me loosens, and ever so slowly, almost remorsefully, he slides my body down his.
My feet delicately touch the soft padding of the mat, but I’m still melded against him, holding on to him.
He’s still kissing me. Slower and slower. And slower.
Until our lips no longer touch.
And for once, he’s out of breath because of my advances.
“Been a long time since your dick’s been hard, huh, Ryke?” Zaviar asks with a shit-eating smirk.
Ryke pulls back from me, and my knees feel even weaker than when we were battling.
“Not really. When’s the last time your mom came for a visit, Zav?” Ryke asks with a totally serious expression that deepens Zaviar’s scowl more than I’ve ever seen before.
I guess even angels—demons?—demonic angels have a wicked streak.
My fingers brush over my swollen lips, and for a few minutes, I listen to the three men pass shitty retorts back and forth until I’m too tired to stand it any longer.
Without a word, I slip out, sneaking upstairs, and finding comfort in that netted nest that I hated so much the first day I came here.
It’s strange how things change sometimes.
17
Danger
Ryke
Long black feathers tipped in silver cover her smooth skin like a blanket, wrapping her up in deep slumber. Her lips are still red and plump from our kiss, and I’ve never found comfort in hurting someone with a single kiss until today.
The three of us stand on the wooden platform and stare down on our little crow in her nest.
I like her here. I like her fucking chaotic life, and all the mess she brings with her.
Zaviar doesn’t exactly feel the same way, but I can tell he doesn’t hate her like he once did. And that’s an improvement for someone like him.
Damien, Damien would have adopted her like a pet the moment he laid eyes on her.
He’s a fool like that.
“I heard her brother tonight. He’s going to get the thing that’s inside Aries and send it back to the Voren Empire to stop demons from being welcome in the fae realm,” Zaviar says quietly.
The wind ripples through the night and breezes through his pink feathers, but he hasn’t bitched about them the way he did earlier today.
He’s worried about her.
I bet he’s worried about his brother, too. What will happen to fallen angels if demons are sent away from this place to live with their own kind?
The two of them have their own secrets I can tell. I don’t know what they’re h
iding between the two of them, but they are hiding something.
It’s just none of my damn business.
“What do you think he’ll do to her?” Damien asks, focusing on her instead of himself. His wings are fully formed, large with impressive flawlessness to the leather-like flesh extending from his shoulders. He’ll be sore for days but it doesn’t seem like his pain is even a thought in his mind.
My arms fold hard over my chest as too many possibilities slam through my mind. None of them good.
“Isn’t it obvious?” a voice says with a tone like a child’s lullaby.
The three of us turn at once, our boots stomping hard to ward off whoever’s invaded our home.
That fucking incubus smiles with a mouthful of glittering white teeth that shine in the moonlight.
“Miss me?” he asks with a wink that makes me want to knock it right off his face.
“You’re not welcome here. Not even by Aries if I remember right.” My words are meant to sting, and even though his manic smile never falters, I know it hurts him.
“You know what her brother is planning?” Damien asks, stepping forward as if he wants to hear what this demon has to say more than anything else.
Krave tilts his head, his inky hair sweeping over the metal piercing his brow.
“I’m the castle pet. Of course I know what her brother is planning. If you three had half a functioning brain between you, you would figure it out as well.” He doesn’t speak maliciously. He says that shitty remark casually as though he’s speaking about the weather.
Everything about him sets my nerves running wild through my body. DANGER. DANGER. DANGER, my instincts scream.
And yet, I stand here patiently watching the performance he puts on with the slow gait of his steps, the sparkling magic he emits from his fingertips, the glittering flecks floating around him like he’s stepped right out of the galaxy above to send us a message.
“Have you fucked her?” he asks instead, his smile carving, but his black eyes narrowing on me.
