52
Sleep never came to me the night before a big battle, though on this occasion, the looming fight with the Angels wasn’t what consumed my every thought. It was leaving this fiery, stubborn female behind while I swung my blade.
Once again, she hated me. I couldn’t figure out why. After the news of her groundskeeper’s death, her anger had ignited again. Barb after barb she threw in my direction, and no matter how hard I tried to comfort her—something entirely out of my strengths—it was never enough. So I gave up.
It was better this way, though. She wasn’t attached to me, and I didn’t owe her anything, despite the bond’s insistence that I fuck her one more time, hear her scream my name as she shattered around my cock. I hadn’t touched her since the waterfall, and the bond was displeased with that fact.
Most mates couldn’t stop fucking when their bond was fresh, driven to a frenzy with one another despite the instant connection with a total stranger. Assyria and I, on the other hand, had been together a whopping three times. She didn’t realize how much I craved her, how many hours I spent awake at night watching her sleep. After what happened to her, I’d never force myself upon her. She needed to come to me, and I was fine with that.
Still wanted to find Vagach’s body and reanimate him so I could at least rip him to shreds for hurting Assyria, even if he was already dead. Even though she’d killed him by accident, I was still proud that she’d done it. These rules we’d implemented for society were horseshit, but they served a purpose. I was glad Assyria ended up in my hands and no one else’s.
The thrill of her challenge was intoxicating, more than the scale I enjoyed when I wasn’t leading the army.
At least now, I could admit to myself that my desire for her was outside of the bounds of our bond. She was beautiful, yes, but she was more than that. She was the fire in my blood, the sharp-thorned roses tattooed across my body. She was the embodiment of perfection, of everything I’d never let myself dream about having. Somewhere along the way, she’d worked herself between my ribs and planted her seed in my heart, bringing it back to life.
I hated it. Everything was so much easier when I felt nothing.
Glancing at the clock, I found dawn an hour away. Sighing, I rubbed the heels of my palms into my eyes. Then, I slipped from the bed and donned my clothes as quickly and quietly as possible. Assyria remained asleep, and as I didn’t want to wake her, I scratched out a note.
I am trusting you to remain in the tent while we fight the Angels. If all goes well, I will return later in the day and we will move the camp forward. If it doesn’t go well, be prepared to grab Blaeze and flee on a moment’s notice.
Stick poised over the parchment, I fought the urge to write more, to write what I truly wanted to say.
I am sorry for being an asshole all this time. I didn’t mean it. I can’t stay away from you and it frightens me. I don’t like being vulnerable. It is easier to be alone than to deal with my feelings. But I didn’t scratch out a single one of them. If I died out there, she’d get to move on with her life, thinking I hated her, and she’d have an easier time for it.
I tucked it beneath the clock on the bedside table.
Grem and Zeec popped up from their prone positions as I tiptoed toward a chest at the foot of the bed. Crouching down, I pulled out their protective harnesses, then eased the lid shut. They needed no instruction to follow me once they saw what I held.
The air was cold against my face, and the scent of burning wood filtered into my nostrils as I strode toward the front of camp. Sentries waited there, having spent the night scanning the horizon for movement. We’d made a diagonal cut away from the canyon in hopes of both closing the distance and warding off any potential sneak attacks since the Angels had retreated. I’d prefer to catch them while they backtracked, forcing them to move faster.
“Morning, Halálhívó,”
one of the Százados greeted me. Then, he proffered a scroll. “From Hadvezér Trol.”
I snatched and unfurled it immediately. Apparently, the Angels had seen his mounted force arriving and all but abandoned their position. The majority at the rear had disappeared up the canyon, no doubt closing in on where it lifted once again to level with the rest of the Paks Desert. The strips on either side were uninhabitable, so I had to assume they were either going to risk their forces or dig in around Lutsk. I hoped, given Rapp and I’s positions, that it was the former.
“Send a missive telling him to keep pushing forward and we will meet him closer to Lutsk,”
I instructed the Százados.
“Yes, sir,”
he said, offering me a closed-fisted salute.
“Anything else?”
I prodded.
“No, sir. No movement on the horizon, though our forward scout has not yet returned. We expect him imminently,”
he reported.
“Find me when he does.”
A breeze whispered over the flat desert, piercing the narrow slots between the pieces of my black metal armor. Grem and Zeec trotted dutifully alongside me until I found a bench. Sitting on it, I put one of the harnesses to the side, then called Grem over. The thick leather wrapped around his neck, secured by a tie, then over his back, protecting his spine. On his belly, more ties waited to fasten more flexible fabric that moved when he breathed. It wasn’t as protective as metal armor but it saved them from bumps and scrapes that would have otherwise wounded them.
They may have been docile around Assyria, but the two were bloodthirsty on the battlefield, trained to fight, chase, and bite the Angels alongside us. Really, I should utilize more hounds, but the dogs took time and skill to train, as did their handlers.
By the time I finished securing Zeec’s armor, the Százados found me, another male in tow. “Halálhívó,”
he said by way of greeting. The second male saluted.
“Yes?”
Clearing his throat, the second stepped forward. “Angels made camp approximately ninety minutes north of here, Halálhívó. With the earth being so flat, I didn’t dare get closer, but I estimated a force of thirty thousand, with more beyond but out of sight.”
A wicked thrill licked my bones at the promise of an all out slaughter. I wasn’t a fool to believe that the force was anything but an exploratory one. But if we could overwhelm them, that would be a major dent in their forces. The reason I sent for as many conscripts as I did was to at least double their numbers.
Bodies won wars. Powerful magic came second.
And right then, we had the numbers.
“Wake our forces and tell them it’s time to move. We need to strike while we still have an advantage,”
I ordered the two.
“Yes, sir,”
they replied, then hurried off to do as I bid.
I chose to rouse the three Parancsok I brought with me myself, and within half an hour the bulk of our forces were ready to march. The first hints of dawn had crested the horizon, which meant we’d arrive just as the day broke at the Angel’s encampment. Facing them head on would be no challenge, especially if they didn’t expect us to move until later in the day.
Sleepless red eyes stared back at me as I rode down the line of males, some on the precipice of their first battle, others hardened against the anticipation that preceded it. As I turned my stallion around and urged him forward, the males followed, and I tried my damndest not to twist in my saddle and search for the black tent at the rear of the camp where Assyria still slept.