The Burn of the Underworld

by Meg Xuemei X

  They both raised their blades, and I eyed their swords with envy, for an angelblade was the only weapon that could kill a Sváva.

  They lunged at each other and collided, their wings tucked tightly behind their shoulders. Elijah met the commander’s blade with his own, the crimson runes on the edge of his blade glowing and pulsing. The commander staggered back at Elijah’s brutal onslaught, purple eyes widening as primordial, menacing power rolled off the golden archangel.

  Elijah whipped his sword left and right, his unbelievable speed making it nothing more than a moving flash. I couldn’t tear my eyes off him. The commander moved in a blur as well. Elijah wheeled at an angle, his blade sailing like lightning. The next second, the commander’s head flew to the ground, and black demon blood shot out of his headless neck.

  I didn’t catch how exactly Elijah had dealt the last blow toward his adversary. The brutal fight ended in less than ten seconds. My mouth went dry, and my heart hammered erratically. I had held my own against the best gladiators in the Underworld, but I was nowhere near the league of the golden archangel.

  I had no hope of ever defeating a Sváva like Elijah. But Max had said the archangel had come with him and was on my side. At least, he seemed to have come to my rescue, though it was by openly declaring his right to own my body.

  The audience broke the stunned silence and roared their cheers. This was probably the first time they’d seen Sváva fight each other, and not just any Sváva, but the two highest ranking fallen angels.

  And they had fought over a lowly slave girl.

  They’d seen that even a red-winged Sváva could be killed.

  The demon sentinels shifted nervously, no longer standing as still as unmoving rock.

  Emperor Cain raised a fist in rage, and the cheers died out.

  “Does anyone else desire to challenge me?” Elijah asked softly and lethally.

  Since he’d proven to be such an excellent fighter, I was hoping more of my enemies would come forward to duel him and get killed.

  I could use him to eliminate as many demons as possible.

  When no one else volunteered, I asked, “May I find the next one for you?”

  Elijah trained his gaze on me, dark amusement glinting in his icy eyes. “Only if they agree, according to the ancient Sváva law.”

  As if I knew anything about their law! I was planning to point at every demon on the field, and when Elijah had beheaded them all, I’d step in as the last one after the fights had worn him out.

  I, Calamity, wouldn’t allow anyone to claim me.

  I raised a finger, ready to point it at the emperor, but Max was faster. He grabbed my finger, bent it, and dragged it down.

  Enough, doll, he said in my head. Don’t stir up any more trouble. You’ve already caused a riot such as no one has ever done in the Underworld, to my knowledge. Now it’s time to make your exit.

  Will you help my brother if I listen to you? I asked.

  Yes, yes, Ash answered in my head instead with a loud sigh.

  You’ll go with Elijah, Max instructed. We’ll follow. And don’t fight him too hard.

  Let her fight him, Ash said. Don’t make it too easy for the lucky bastard.

  Why was Elijah lucky? Was it about the claiming night? I didn’t want to dwell further on it. Max was right. First, I needed to get out of here.

  Please feed my tiger, Max, I said.

  “Enjoy the slave for the night, Lord Elijah,” the emperor sneered. “According to the ancient law, she’s still my slave, and only I can release her. Tomorrow at dawn she’ll be returning to the arena to fight until her death.”

  I wondered who he would send to end me tomorrow, but tonight, I’d have a break. Or probably not. I gave the golden archangel a quick, assessing glance.

  When he returned his heated gaze to me, my heart fluttered like fleeing wings. No, I didn’t think I’d have a break tonight.

  Elijah yanked me to him possessively, pressing me against his hard chest. I was furious, but I also felt a strange comfort in his strong arms, as if I was finally safe, at least for the moment.

  Killian snarled, but Max pulled him back with incredible strength, stopping him from lunging at the archangel a second time.

  I flashed Killian a picture of me being safe and Max’s promise of feeding him.

  A rush of sulfur-filled air slammed into my face, and before I knew it, Elijah had shot into the high sky, bearing me up with him.

  The wind knocked the breath from my lungs, and then Max, the gray wolf, my tiger, the emperor and his demons, the crowd, and the gladiatorial arena all become smaller and smaller as Elijah soared higher.

  Soon, everything and everyone was left behind, like my past life, except for Elijah.

  CHAPTER 8

  _____________

  I drew in a lungful of air. It was cool at this altitude, yet it still smelled of smoke.

  I wasn’t afraid of heights. For a foolish second, I thought of attacking the archangel in the sky and making my escape.

  That wouldn’t do anything but send me plunging down to my gruesome death.

  My only chance of escaping was to wait until Elijah let his guard down.

  Would he ever let his guard down?

  He watched me closely.

  “Shouldn’t you watch where you’re going?” I asked.

  “I know where I’m going,” he said huskily. “I don’t need to pay attention to my flying.”

  “But you have a passenger,” I reminded him.

  “Are you worried?” he asked, a faint amused smile ghosting his sensual lips. “You were brave in the arena.”

  “You aren’t exactly a good conversationalist, are you?” I said. “Unlike Max and Ash.”

  A sudden dark emotion—if I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say it was jealousy—flashed in his eyes, which were now more storm-gray than blue.

  I smirked. Part of me enjoyed taunting him, to throw him off balance.

  “What’s to discuss?” he said, his voice hard. “We’re high in the sky.”

  My smirk wilted from my lips. It wasn’t the best idea to provoke him while we were flying.

  I sighed and gazed up at his immense wings stretching against the gray sky, beating against the air currents. I wondered how his glossy golden feathers would glint in sunlight.

  One thing I’d always envied about the Sváva was that they had wings that could ride the wildest wind, though the sight of their jagged, demonic wings also repulsed me. But not this archangel’s.

  Concealing my fascination and keeping my face impassive, I drew my gaze back and met his. His gray-blue eyes were as deep as the galaxy, though I had no idea how the galaxy looked. It must be filled with mystery and dark secrets, like this angel’s eyes.

  His blond hair was cropped in a military style. His high cheekbones told of his highborn breeding. My gaze fell upon the long scar sprawled across the high ridge of his nose to his kissable lips. All of a sudden, I had an urge to trace his scar and ask about its history.

  I drew in a ragged breath, shocked that I was so drawn to a Sváva, a race I’d despised and hated all my life.

  This golden archangel was nothing like Max and Ash. He was a male of few words. He hadn’t talked to me but only answered my questions briefly ever since we left the ground.

  So, I decided to initiate a new conversation, at least to gather intel.

  “How far can we go?” I asked, calming my heart in the meanwhile. I didn’t want it to beat that fast for him, not wanting him to hear my rapid heartbeat, either.

  “Endlessly,” he said, his voice rich as honey. “But there’s no escape from the sky in this dimension at the edge of hell.”

  Had he perceived my thoughts of fleeing from him? Of course. I was still a captive, so naturally, escaping would dominate my mind.

  Not all of my thoughts, though. This archangel filled my mind, too.

  The exchange ended like our former conversation—he briefly answered my questions and didn’t bother to expl
ain further.

  “Where are we going?” I persisted.

  “My new quarters in the emperor’s court,” he said. “You’ll have a bath and food first, and then you’ll rest.”

  And then he’d fuck me, claiming the right to my virgin blood.

  My heart stuttered again, fear, anxiety, and a faint thrill swirling in my veins all at once. And anticipation, curiosity, and even giddiness swept over me next.

  I’d never experienced intimacy with a man before.

  I’d never been attracted to anyone until today, when I met Max, Ash, and Elijah, and none of them were what they had appeared to be at the Reaper’s landing site. I still remembered the moment I first caught sight of them, when desire and longing I hadn’t known I was capable of stirred in me with staggering force.

  I wouldn’t question my attraction to Max and Ash, especially Max, since Ash was in a wolf form. They were both gorgeous and hotter than hell, and they both defended me. No one had ever done that for me except my brother.

  But how could a Sváva pull me in like this?

  Wait, Max looked like an archangel, too, and he was among them. I shook my head. He was also different than them, despite his beautiful obsidian wings. He’d said it was a long story. He might have used magic, like the glamour I had, to conjure up his wings. But then how could he fly with glamoured wings?

  I couldn’t think of that right now while I had no means to investigate. I needed to deal with the archangel first, who now held my fate in his hands.

  As our gazes met, an image of him and me entangling on sheets flashed in my mind, heating my blood. Was he going to fuck me? How would it feel to be fucked by an archangel? To have his cock thrust wildly into me?

  Would there be pain? Or pleasure?

  Involuntarily, I leaned on him, stretching against his hard, muscled body, which was clad in a trench coat. The feeling of pressing against him was delicious. His body heat encased me, warming me in the chilly air and making me feel oddly safe and aroused.

  I could get used to this intoxicating feeling. My hand rose, ready to trace his sensual lips.

  No, Calamity, stop, I ordered myself sternly.

  I blinked, once, twice, tearing my eyes from his mesmerizing gaze. Shame washed over me, yet the image of him fucking me from different angles wouldn’t leave my wanton mind.

  My pussy was already wet.

  I blamed it on the last shot of adrenaline in me. Lust always followed battle, right?

  Despite his silence, Elijah’s heated gaze never left me, as if he was still trying to figure out a puzzle. But I was no puzzle. I was a slave girl who had needed to disguise herself as a boy in order to survive, in order not to be sent to the whorehouse, a place of horrors in the Underworld.

  Elijah increased our velocity. I clasped my hands tightly behind his neck so I wouldn’t fall by accident. Despite my body urging me to rub my face against his strong jaw and wrap my legs around his firm waist, I refused to listen to it.

  The archangel’s muscular arms tightened around me, and his scent of pure male musk and sandalwood assaulted my nostrils in waves. To distract myself, I wiggled in his embrace to gaze down at the ground, so I wouldn’t be stupid enough to lean toward him to sniff at him.

  A cluster of hills receded beneath us as we flew toward a dark ocean that glittered like a vast black gem. A ridge of cliffs lined the white shore, and hundreds of buildings and houses seemingly floating in the sky, slowly revolving around a whirlpool in the center.

  This was the emperor’s court in Elysium, which only a Sváva could access, according to the tales.

  My heart sank at the grand view as a realization slammed into me. I would never be able to flee from such a place—no one could—unless I threw myself into the vortex or the black ocean. I wouldn’t survive either.

  Elijah descended onto the balcony of a two-story apartment, and the glassy door glided open on its own.

  His gaze darted from my eyes to my lips, then back to my eyes.

  I wondered what he saw in me that had made him go against the emperor just to have one night with me.

  I had no illusions about my appearance. I’d made myself look as bad as possible, with grime and mud in my hair and all over my face. After a few hours of fighting in the arena, I was even filthier, with blood and dirt on my clothes. Hitching a ride in the wind hadn’t made me any more attractive. My face was likely red, my hair was tangled, and my eyes were watery.

  I released my dirty hands from him—it was a miracle he’d let me clasp them behind his neck—and pushed my unbraided, messy hair from my soot-stained face.

  The archangel, however, looked unfazed, as if he’d just returned from a stroll in the park.

  I stepped away from him, and he looked regretful at the distance between us. My body also protested, not liking to be apart from his solid chest and body heat.

  “We’re here,” he said, folding his wings and gesturing toward the open glass door. “Come inside, Calamity.”

  I hesitated, as I suddenly felt trapped, but Elijah held my hand and led me into the apartment, as if he was afraid that I’d be foolish enough to throw myself into the churning whirlpool beneath.

  I startled when a white-winged female Sváva glided into the foyer from the back of the spacious apartment. Slaves seldom saw a female Sváva. She didn’t have claws, and her lovely face remained angelic.

  Was she Elijah’s mistress? If so, why had he staked a claim on me in the arena?

  A sudden jealousy raged through me, and I wanted to impale this beautiful creature and bash Elijah’s head in for having a woman. I stepped back, shocked and sickened by my own violent, vicious reaction.

  This was wrong. Something was wrong with me.

  I’d never reacted like this before. I might be hot-tempered, but I’d never been unreasonably possessive and nasty.

  “Saphyira is the servant the emperor assigned to me,” Elijah said. “That’s all. I ordered her to prepare a bath and food for you when we flew here.”

  Saphyira bowed and studied me.

  Over my questioning look, Elijah said in a rich, cool voice, “A high-powered Sváva archangel like me can convey his orders to a lower Sváva through telepathy within certain distances, but the lower Sváva can’t access the mind of an archangel.”

  But I can talk in your head, I said, and again, I found no mental block. I could communicate with him just as easily as I could with Ash and Max.

  Something sparkled in Elijah’s gray-blue eyes, softening his harsh look. He glanced at Saphyira, probably commanding her to carry out some more tasks, but I wasn’t sure, since I couldn’t access that communication channel between them.

  “Lady Calamity,” Saphyira said. “I’ll show you to the bath chamber.”

  I was no lady. But I’d had a lot of shocks today, so it didn’t faze me when she called me that.

  However, I wouldn’t be called lady tomorrow, not after Elijah used me and returned me to the arena to continue my fight to the death.

  A thought brushed my mind. Would I really let the archangel claim me?

  No, fuck, no, my will shouted.

  Yes, my body said. Fuck me, angel.

  And my mind decided that I was the master of my body. I wouldn’t let my carnal need win.

  I followed Saphyira through an open hallway. Everything here was spotless and lavish, in stark contrast to the conditions of the mud dwelling Sebastian and I shared. A bitter resentment rose in me again, along with my worries for my brother.

  But Max had promised to take care of Killian and Sebastian, and I believed that he would follow through.

  Saphyira showed me the bath chamber. I passed her at the door and entered.

  “If you need anything, Lady Calamity,” she said, “press the button on the wall, and I’ll be here.”

  Again, she called me lady, though she knew I was a slave.

  I didn’t bother to correct her.

  “Thank you, Saphyira,” I said.

  She smiled a
t me and closed the door behind her gently.

  Once I was alone, my stiffened shoulders slumped, and I collapsed on a bench. I breathed in and out slowly to steady my nerves and make mental adjustments. Then my nostrils flared, and my gaze trained on the food plate on a high counter.

  There was a pitcher of water on it, along with a variety of fruits, bread, and a bowl of stew. My stomach grumbled, and pain pierced my insides.

  I was so starved that it hurt me physically.

  All of my composure and manners vanished. I shot to my feet and lunged at the plate. Then I remembered something and managed to wash my face and hands before I snatched the food. I drained the pitcher in one gulp, then I attacked the food, unable to decide what to put in my mouth first.

  I had never had fresh bread before, let alone delicious stew. When all the food was gone, I suddenly regretted that I hadn’t taken time to savor the taste. I’d basically devoured everything on the plate. When my hunger was sated, I didn’t feel the pinching pain in my stomach anymore.

  I took time to look around the bath chamber. It was ten times bigger than the mud dwelling my brother and I shared. In the mirror, I noticed how filthy I was. I looked like a feral animal covered in dirt, grime, blood, and mud.

  Only my vivid dark green eyes still indicated that I hadn’t lost my sanity and intelligence.

  How could the highest ranking archangel want to stake a claim on such an unbecoming, wild creature when he could have anyone? It was also beyond my comprehension that Max and Ash had been willing to forfeit their lives to defend me when I looked worse than trash.

  The warm water in the vast bathtub was more welcome than anything now that I had a full stomach. Without thinking twice, I tore away what was left of my clothes and leapt into the water, which turned gray and muddy right away.

  Thankfully, the water seemed to rotate by itself. The dirty water filtered out automatically and clean liquid flowed in and refilled the tub. I grabbed soap—there was a variety of soaps on the side, but I wasn’t picky—and started to scrub myself, starting with my tangled hair.

  I must have scoured myself ten times. The water was now as clear as could be, and it remained warm.