Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
~ Alaric ~
I wait silently in a crouch, hidden in one of the few town houses that wasn’t destroyed. The top window is cracked just enough that if I release my arrow, it could fly free of the building…and into the demon king.
Ordinarily, such a weapon wouldn’t be able to kill the demon monarch, but bright orange liquid stains the tip of my arrowhead, the unique poison procured from a witch I’d slain not too long ago.
King Dalton stands with Blake and the others, the group of them engaged in conversation, but while I’m skilled in the art of reading lips, my focus isn’t on what is being said. I keep my arrow there, aimed at the king’s heart.
During the battle, I had stayed long enough to ensure the witches would fall, and then I’d disappeared into the background, slinking away while the demon princess was distracted. Just the thought of how I’d left my mate has my scowl deepening, but I force the memory from my mind. Keeping my grip on my bow and arrow, I let out a long, steady breath, ignoring the high-pitched ringing in my ears.
After an age of waiting, the chance for retribution is finally here. The demon who murdered my twin brother, West, stands unsuspecting, and my muscles tense as I let my anger flow through me, filling every part of my being. I’d planned to kill the demon king’s daughter. To make him feel something akin to the pain I’d felt when West had been taken from me, but it was becoming painfully clear that I wouldn’t be able to kill my mate. My Enchantress. She was a surprising twist in my fucked-up life, but right now it didn’t matter. King Dalton, the murderer himself, was before me, and simply seeing him dead would have to suffice.
I pull the arrow back another inch, tightening the drawstring even more. I shouldn’t be hesitating. I’m a member of the Drozac. An elite assassin, bound by a code that’s centuries old. The king still stands directly in my line of sight, his broad chest exposed. One arrow, and the vengeance I’ve sought for so long will finally be mine. One arrow, and I can finally get revenge for my brother’s death. One arrow, and my mate will hate me just as I detest the demon king. Blood for blood.
My fingers don’t move.
Growling under my breath, I close my eyes, trying to ground myself. This is all I’ve wanted for so long, but it was never meant to feel like this. My hatred wavers as thoughts of my enchantress fill my head. Of her soft skin and fiery spirit. Of the way she feels when my hand is wrapped around her throat, my thigh between her legs as she lets out soft pants.
Growling, I wrench my eyes open, and my heart almost stops. Because it’s not the demon king I have targeted now. A female with long dark hair and silky black wings stands in the way of my arrow, and fear spears into me, penetrating so deep it’s as though an arrow has punctured my heart rather than the demon king’s.
Enchantress. Sweat breaks out over my skin, and I lower my arrow, loosening the bowstring as my heart pounds an erratic beat. A stream of curses whisper from my lips. There was a time when I’d dreamed of having the demon princess in my line of sight. When I’d fantasized about the demon king mourning her twisted and lifeless form.
But now that thought makes me sick.
Because the female is my mate, and no amount of denying it on my part will change that. Her soul calls to mine, and that…terrifies me.
I stare at my trembling fingers. My hands have always remained steady in the past, and yet here I am, my fingers shaking.
The she-demon is changing me, and I’m hopeless as I fight against the pull of fate, and the threads that bind us.
I don’t lift my arrow again.
Instead, I remain crouched, watching in grim silence as the king creates a new portal thick with red flames, and he disappears with the remainder of the demon guards.
~ Princess Blake ~
Alaric reappears soon after Dad departs through a portal, and I get the feeling it’s not a coincidence, though the assassin refuses to admit where he’s been. A scowl remains on his face for the rest of the day, but he stays close to me as we work. My mates and I hardly speak as we spend hours tending to the wounded and helping to gather the bodies. Theon isn’t the only healer, and thankfully, many of the wounded angels will recover. The damage to the township is severe, but the angels are determined as they clear away the debris and start devising plans to rebuild. No one mentions that the fight with the witches is likely far from over.
I’m busy carrying a long, splintered beam from one of the destroyed townhouses, when Dante plucks it from my hands. He carries it over to a pile of torched wood and drops it, dusting off his hands as a cloud of ash puffs into the air.
“I had it,” I tell him, though I can’t help but grin when he gives me a devastating smile.
“So, you did,” he drawls, his tail hovering in the air behind him, “but I think it’s time we went on our way, don’t you, princess? We have a queen to visit.”
I frown at his words, because he’s not wrong. Lifting my chin, I squint up at where the sun is still high in the sky. Streams of golden light shine down on us, and if I were back in Seral, I would have guessed it was only midday. “How long is it until nightfall?” My question isn’t directed at anyone in particular, but it’s Theon who answers, his silky bronze wings now fully healed.
“A few months, your highness,” the archangel replies.
I jerk my head, blinking at him in surprise. “Months?”
“This is the season of summer light,” Theon explains. “We will not experience night again for many days.”
“Okay, just hearing that is making me sweaty,” Shade complains from my shoulder. “Any chance they can include a birdbath in their designs? I mean, look at me, I’m a creature of the night.” She stretches out her black wings dramatically like she’s trying to prove her point.
I shake my head at her, my lips twitching. “Crows normally sleep at night, Shade. And besides, you don’t sweat.”
“Maybe normal crows sleep at night,” she defends. “But the royal bestie of the demon princess has been trained to sleep when the sun is up. You can’t blame me for your conditioning.”
“Royal bestie?” A grin breaks out on my face, though she’s not wrong at her being conditioned differently. In the demon realm everyone generally sleeps when the sun is up, and at some point, Shade started doing that, too, to keep on the same schedule as me.
“And you know what I mean,” Shade continues. “I feel like I’m roasting in this heat.”
It shouldn’t have happened, but at the thought of roast and the idea of food, a low rumble starts up in my stomach.
Shade squawks, hopping up and down on my shoulder. “Girl, please tell me your stomach did not just growl at the thought of me being roasted?!”
“What?” I say innocently. “Battling witches takes a lot out of a demon. You can’t tell me you’re not hungry.”
Shade huffs in my mind, though I know she’s not as mortified as she pretends. For some reason, she has always been surprisingly understanding when it comes to my eating habits, though it probably helps that I haven’t eaten any bird, chicken or otherwise, in years. Still, she turns on my shoulder, showing me her tail feathers.
“What’s wrong with her?” Nate comments, coming up beside me. He’s wearing the clothing of a deceased angel, and it fits him surprisingly well, though the material is tight across his chest.
“Oh nothing, she’s just upset that my stomach growled at the thought of roasted bird,” I explain.
It takes the shifter a moment to realize what I’ve said, but then he lets out a hearty laugh.
“And no, that wasn’t an indication that you can eat her,” I add, narrowing my eyes on Nate. I might be able to handle the joke, but I still remember how he’d snapped at the doves flying past him not too long ago.
“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” he chuckles. “I’m always craving demon these days.” He pulls me close, his hand resting brazenly on my ass, and my face heats as need makes me press my thighs together.
“Good lord, someone at least get me a bucket to bathe in,” Shade says, a smirk in her voice as she turns back around, our little tiff instantly forgotten now that she’s distracted by Nate’s dirty mouth.
I lean in to my shifter. Memories of his barbs inside me make my core clench, and I swallow hard thinking about how good he’d made me feel.
His nostrils flare as he scents my arousal, and he gives me a shit-eating grin as he squeezes my ass harder. Stupid shifter senses. It’s then that I notice my other mates are all looking at me intently, appearing just as bothered as I am.
Theon clears his throat as he shifts uncomfortably, no doubt sensing the tension. “Uh yes, so there won’t be any nightfall any time soon, but if you need somewhere to rest before you set off, there are a few buildings that are still standing and structurally sound.”
I’m about to thank him, when Prince Callan speaks up, his voice clipped. “We’ll rest at the springs. Gather some supplies and lead them there. I need to discuss a few matters with the other angels before I depart.”
Theon dips his head. “Of course, my prince,” he answers primly.
I open my mouth, about to question Prince Callan about these springs, but a male angel with teal hair appears around the side of a building. A long scroll of parchment is in his hands, and when he calls out, Prince Callan barely spares the rest of us a glance before striding toward him.
“Okay, then,” I mutter under my breath.
The rest of us turn to Theon expectantly, and he gives us a nervous smile. “Excuse me for the moment. I will gather some supplies and return shortly.”
The healer hurries out of sight, and the rest of us stand around idly. I move to the shade of one of the nearby buildings, and Nate, Dante, and Alaric follow me, leaning on the white stone. Mason takes a step toward us, but then he stops abruptly, his gaze fixed to something on the ground.
I notice the severed finger in the dirt, not far from his position. Going by the dark ink patterned onto the wrinkled skin, and the ruby ring that’s still attached, I’m guessing it’s from one of the witches. Mason reaches down, and I wince, already knowing where this is going.
“When will they learn that severed limbs aren’t my favorite?” I mumble to Shade.
The crow laughs in my head. “Well, you are a demon. I can see why they’re confused.”
Nate shoots me a grin, and it’s obvious he’s eager to see how this plays out.
I open my mouth, about to explain to Mason the same thing I had to explain to Prince Callan and Nate when they’d brought me severed heads as gifts, but my eyes widen when my mate turns and there’s a single flower in his grasp. It’s a wildflower that has been growing between the flat stones of the street, a small golden flower with six delicate petals and a splash of violet in its center. Somehow, it was completely spared from the violence, and there’s not a single drop of blood on it.
“For you, my mate,” Mason says as he moves in front of me. “Because at all times we must treasure those most precious to us.” He leans over, tucking it above my ear, and my skin flushes with heat.
“Swooooon,” Shade gushes, gazing appreciatively at Mason.
Nate blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck me, he’s good,” he grumbles.
I smile, completely ignoring Nate’s defeated expression, and the way Alaric is glowering as if my centaur mate has personally offended him. Dante merely looks amused, and entirely ready to join in on the action at a moment’s notice.
“Mason is definitely my current favorite,” Shade muses, and my smile grows bigger, because right now, I have to agree.