11. CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Zandren
I probably shouldn’t have done it.
In fact, I know I shouldn’t have.
But as time ticked by, my affection for the little demon was getting stronger and stronger.
So when she went to bed and locked her door, I waited until I knew she was asleep—until the whole apartment was asleep—then I picked her lock with my claw and just sat on the edge of her bed for a while watching her sleep. She was so peaceful. So beautiful. I also wanted to make sure she was safe. Make sure no nightmares plagued her.
She just had lost her aunt, the only mother-figure she’d ever known, and besides her roommate, the only person in the world who gave a damn about her—until me, that is—and I knew a thing or two about losing a mother. About the devastating toll it took on your heart. How a loss like that rendered you empty and lost, unsure how to put one foot in front of the other and go on when the person who loved you with every ounce of their soul was gone. Because even though their spirit may still be loving and watching over you, when they’re gone, you feel that loss of love like your heart has been ripped clean from your chest. It’s an ache I’ll never forget, and one I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy .
It was pure torture watching her leave with Maxar and Drak earlier that day, but I knew that she wanted someone to stay behind with Mr. Fiddleman. So I put my own needs aside and thought about what my mate needed.
She was always on my mind. Always first on my mind. Ever since the lightning strike, I thought of nothing more than her—and food.
And she was worth the wait and effort.
Her fire and spirit. Her sass, and the fact that she swore like a sailor, just made me love her more.
I wanted nothing more than for her to accept me as her mate, but I wanted it to be on her own terms. I wanted her to want me. To want a mate. To want the Bond. So if I had to wait a week, a month, a year, or ten years, I would. I’d waited centuries for her already. What was a little longer until she was ready?
It’d been a while since I shifted and my bear ached to scratch up against a tree and really stretch. I closed Omaera’s bedroom door silently and crept out of the apartment, out of the building, and then practically sprinted to the nearest wooded area.
Rather than shift while dressed and tear the clothes I’d just acquired, I was mindful enough to undress properly, fold my clothes, and stash them in a bush before I dropped to all fours and shifted.
The stretch of my bones, muscles, and ligaments was always so pleasurable. It was like that first morning stretch, elongating stiff muscles and working them for the first time in a new day.
Once I was back in animal form, I stood up on hind legs and backed up against an enormous fir tree, where I rubbed my butt back and forth a dozen times or more, grunting and growling in pleasure.
Even though I’d gorged myself on Indian food earlier, I was hungry again. So I headed deeper into the trees in search of something. A rabbit or squirrel, perhaps. I’d dined on a house cat or two when desperate, but I tried not to eat domestic animals. But everything was asleep now.
My belly rumbled. I could leave the safety of the trees and venture into the city, like the bakery dumpster I had breakfast at. But then that increased the risk of someone seeing a bear and reporting it .
I’d have to shift back to human form if I wanted food.
I ignored my grumbling belly and wandered around the quiet, dark forest a little longer, just enjoying the fresh, peaty air and the way the dirt and pine needles felt like cushions beneath the pads of my paws.
Yes, a huge part of me ached to get back to Omaera, but I couldn’t ignore the bear side of me either. The side that needed wide open spaces and freedom. That needed soil between my toes and the stars above me.
Would she want to live in the city if we mated?
What about the other two bozos?
I still couldn’t believe this was my fate. To share a mate with two other men. And not even two other bears, not even two other shifters. But a lunatic fire mage, and a motherfucking vampire, of all people.
The gods were surely testing me. I could see no other explanation.
After an hour of just scratching up against trees, and wandering the woods, I shifted into human form once again, redressed, and headed back toward the hipster village Omaera chose to call home.
Delia’s neighborhood was so much nicer, but if this was what my mate wanted, then I’d deal with it.
A kebab shop was open late. So I grabbed three kebabs on my way back, but just as I reached Omaera’s building, the wind pulled an unfamiliar and alarming scent my way.
I sniffed harder.
Demon.
Setting the kebabs on a bench near the front door, I crouched down behind a big, flowering bush and waited.
The scent was still there—bergamot and hyacinth.
A growl rumbled through me as the essence grew stronger. Until, peering through the branches of the shrub, I saw a demon with long, black hair, stiletto boots, and red lips click-clacked her way down the sidewalk. She didn’t go to the front door, but rather, she stood below the balconies. Below Omaera’s fourth-floor balcony.
Her eyes remained laser-focused forward, almost like she was in a trance .
Who was she?
What was she doing?
Was she here to hurt Omaera?
I knew that a demon had come over earlier to help Omaera with her powers, but if this was the same demon, why was she back in the middle of the night?
She couldn’t be here to check up on Omaera. Nothing about this said she gave a damn about my mate. If anything, she was here to hurt her.
I stood up from the bush and walked to the front door, grabbing my kebabs from the bench, and making sure she saw me, and that she knew I saw her. “Hello,” I said, nodding at her before punching in the code that allowed me inside.
Then it was a full-on sprint. I booked it up the stairs, taking them three, sometimes four at a time. Screaming echoed from Omaera’s apartment when I reached the fourth floor. I burst through the door to find Drak and Maxar standing over Gemma in the hallway, who writhed in agony, blood pouring out of her nose. Omaera was still asleep, but caught up in a horrible nightmare, screaming at the top of her lungs and begging for the pain to stop.
“What’s going on?” Maxar asked in a panic.
“There’s a demon outside, standing below the balcony,” I said.
Maxar ran to the balcony, throwing open the sliding glass door. Bright green flames shot from his palms downward. He jumped up on the ledge and then down four stories below. More flashes of green flames. Drak was busy shaking Omaera, trying to wake her up.
Then all the screaming stopped.
Omaera stopped, and Gemma stopped.
Omaera’s eyes flew open and the first thing she did was lunge into my arms. “Oh god, you’re not dead.”
I glanced at Drak, but held onto her tight, stroking her hair. “No, Little One. I’m not dead. I’m right here. I’m safe. You’re safe.”
She trembled in my arms. “The nightmare was so real. So, so real.”
“That’s because some demon bitch was down on the ground manipulating your dreams,” I said .
Her gaze flew wide. “Raewyn?”
“Dominatrix type? Long, black hair. Spikey boots?”
Omaera nodded, then glanced around the space. “Where’s Maxar?”
“He leaped over the balcony and chased her off with fire.”
“Over the balcony?” she scrambled out of my arms and out of bed, but paused when she saw Gemma lying lifeless in the hallway covered in blood. She dropped to her knees. “No. No! No, no, no, no, no. I will kill that bitch. I will tear her brain from her skull with my bare hands.”
I crouched down beside her and put my finger to Gemma’s throat. “There’s a pulse.” Picking up the petite redhead, I carried her to the living room and gently set her down on the couch, using the hem of my shirt to wipe up some of the blood from her cheeks and lip.
Omaera was bawling as she knelt on the floor beside Gemma. “You have to wake up. You can’t do this. You can’t leave me. Please.”
Pressing her forehead to the side of Gemma’s head, she continued to murmur how much she loved her friend. How much she needed her. Gemma’s chest rose and fell, so we knew she was breathing. We knew she was alive. It was the brain damage that was of concern.
Gemma made a noise, then another. Then she groaned and stirred.
Omaera popped up and gently shook her friend by the shoulders. “Gem. Gem wake up. You need to wake up, Gemma.”
Gemma stirred some more.
“Gemma Frances McNeil, you need to wake up right now!”
Gemma groaned and her pale blonde lashes fluttered a few times before finally opening. “Wh-what happened?”
Just then, the front door burst open and an unruffled Maxar entered, dragging a furious-looking demon woman. She was bound at the hands and around the mouth with magical orange flame ropes that flickered and sparked. She also wore a flame rope around her forehead like a crown. I didn’t know a lot of fire mages, but I knew enough that each flame color had a different intensity and purpose. Green and black were the most lethal. Orange, red, and yellow were gentler and more benign. I’d never seen a rope made of fire though .
He dragged her forward and tossed her to the ground where she grunted and glared at him like she was trying her damndest to barbecue his brain. He’d have a block in place, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try it on the rest of us.
The only person that could stop her was Omaera. Demons of higher power could block demons of lower power from trying to mind-control others.
Was Omaera strong enough? Did she even know how?
“I thought my brain was going to explode,” Gemma said. “I woke up, and it was worse than when you did it to me. So much worse.”
Omaera pressed her forehead to her friend’s temple. “I’m so, so sorry you’re tangled up in this. I’m so sorry.”
Gemma closed her eyes and leaned into Omaera. “But then, all I could smell were flowers and feel joy. When you were leaning against me, willing me not to die, this surge of pleasure and joy whipped through me like a warm wind. The kind that wraps a flowy dress around your legs and causes your hair to fly across your face.” She smiled at Omaera. “I could feel your love.”
Omaera was crying now, but she smiled and laughed through the sobs as Gemma sat up and the two embraced.
They remained that way for a moment, until the demon bitch on the ground grunted, pulling Omaera’s attention away. She untangled herself from Gemma and stood up, slowly approaching Raewyn on the ground. Her nostrils flared and green flames danced in her eyes.
She got beside Raewyn’s head and crouched down beside her. “Who sent you?”
“She’s got a gag,” Maxar said. “Do you want me to remove it?”
Omaera nodded. “Please.”
He stepped forward and waved his hand over Raewyn’s mouth, essentially snuffing out the flames that tied her lips from touching and inhibiting her speech. She squirmed and writhed against her arm restraints though, glaring at all of us.
Why hadn’t she tried to fry my brain yet? That was the sole reason why I didn’t tear out her jugular when I saw her standing beneath the balconies earlier. She could attack me before I got the jump on her, then she would have had free rein to kill Gemma and torture Omaera.
“I’m going to ask again,” Omaera said slowly. “Who sent you?”
Raewyn’s lip curled up into an ugly sneer. “Nobody sent me. I’m here to do what is right. And that’s eliminate an abomination. You’re not our queen. You’re a disgusting mutant that never should have happened. I’d never bow down to you, and I know a lot of others who won’t.”
Omaera blinked at her and nodded. “And my friend? Why did you hurt her?”
Raewyn snorted. “The human? One less human in this world is a good thing.”
Omaera nodded again. “Right. So, you acted on your own, fully prepared to murder my best friend and torture me. Were you planning to kill me? Why didn’t you hurt the vampire?”
“She’s not a high-level demon,” Maxar said. “She only has the power to manipulate and attack probably two people at a time.”
Omaera nodded one more time. “I see.”
“What would you have us do with her, my Queen?” Maxar asked. “I’m happy to dispose of the body the same way we did the Phaceanesh who attacked you last night.”
She glanced at Maxar, then at Drak and me. “Is there any reason you can think of that she may be of use to us?”
“She’s just a liability. She could hurt any one of us at any time,” Drak said.
“Why isn’t she doing that now?” Omaera asked.
“Oh! That’s because I have a restraint on her,” Maxar said joyfully. “See the orange rope around her head? That’s keeping her from fucking with us.”
I’d never heard of that before. He was handy to have around if he could do that.
I was beginning to see his usefulness.
Why the vampire was here and what he contributed to this pack, I still hadn’t quite figured out.
“I suggest we eliminate her,” Drak said. “She knows where you live. She’s clearly not loyal to the crown, and she could run off and tell whomever killed your aunt about your whereabouts. ”
Omaera looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Oh, I wasn’t implying that we just let her go. No, no. She tried to kill my best friend. This bitch will die. It’s just whether she dies right now , or we hang on to her because she’s of some use. That’s the only question I have. Do we keep her and use her, then kill her? Or just kill her right now?”
Maxar’s grin was big and maniacal. “Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more, my Queen . . .” He pressed his hand to his heart. “You show me your sadistic side, and I just . . . oh, baby.”
Omaera rolled her eyes.
Drak stepped forward. “She is of no use to us. She won’t give anything up. She is a drain on our time and energy. Holding on to her presents us with a risk of her escaping, or breaking free of her shackles and hurting someone.”
“Uh . . . there’s no way she’s breaking free of those ropes,” Maxar said, giving Drak a look that said he was offended. “I know what I’m doing. Fuck you very much. Been playing with fire for a few centuries now.”
Drak ignored him.
“Then she dies tonight,” Omaera said, standing up. She glared down at the demon who still had so much hate and anger in her eyes, even though she was facing death. “Raewyn Vade, I find you guilty of treason, attempted murder, and attempted mutiny. I sentence you to death.” Then she spun around, showing the demon her back and returning to Gemma on the couch.
Maxar nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
Omaera shook her head. “No. I sentenced her. I should be the one to do it.”
Maxar’s, Drak’s, and my brows all hiked up to our hairlines.
“Normally, the monarch does the sentencing, but not the execution,” Drak said.
“Then they are a feckless monarch,” Omaera said, wrapping an arm around Gemma. “Death is permanent. It is not a light sentence and should only be made when there is no other option. If I’m going to bear the weight of this crown—until I can give it to someone else—then I’m going to be the one to carry out the sentence. It’s only right.”
“Maer,” Gemma whispered. “You can’t come back from this. ”
“I know,” Omaera said, swallowing. “But she tried to kill you.” She glared at Raewyn. “She deserves to die.”
Maybe I was wrong, but for the briefest of moments, I could have sworn I saw a flicker of respect flash through Raewyn’s eyes. Then it was gone, replaced once again by deep-seated loathing and contempt for my mate.
“Would you like a fire sword?” Maxar asked.
“Is that clean and quick?” Omaera asked, still hugging her friend.
Maxar nodded. “It will cauterize as it slices, so there is very little bloodshed. Should be an easy cleanup. I can also just cremate her like I did the Phaceanesh in the alley.”
Even though I was no virgin when it came to murder, execution, war, or bloodshed, I would be lying if I said the cavalier way everyone was discussing killing this woman wasn’t affecting me in a nauseating way. Yes, she needed to die. But she was still alive right now, listening to this. Hearing how we were going to dispose of her corpse when she was relieved of her head.
I knew I’d be fine, but I worried about Omaera. She was stoic at the moment, only showing her friend affection, but otherwise numb with rage toward the demon. But how would she cope with this later? When the reality of it came crashing down and the image and smell of burning flesh and a fire sword decapitating a woman returned to her in her dreams?
Because they would.
They always did.
Dreams were something not even the most powerful demon could control.
At least not their own.
They could manipulate others’ dreams, the way Raewyn had been manipulating Omaera’s dreams, but Omaera wouldn’t be able to control her own dreams.
“Maybe you shouldn’t see this,” she said to Gemma. “You don’t need to witness this.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Gemma said.
Omaera’s expression turned gentler than I’d ever seen it. “Please, sweetie. Go to your bedroom and close the door. I don’t want you to see me like this. I have the guys. They’re going to help me. But you don’t need to witness this. Please. Go.”
Gemma’s eyes flicked back and forth across all of our faces, then over to Raewyn. Finally, she nodded and slowly got up from the couch. “You don’t have to do this, Maer. You know that, right? One of them can do it.”
“She tried to kill you, Gem. And I’m the Queen. A good leader doesn’t shy away from the hard stuff. Delia taught me that.”
They hugged. Then Gemma went back into her room, closing the door. A moment later, music began to play from inside her bedroom.
“All right, let’s get this over with,” Omaera said, standing up and taking a deep breath which exited from her chest in a rattling fashion. She went over to Raewyn and glared down at her. “This could have ended so differently. But you’re a xenophobic psychopath. And my kingdom has no place for people like you. Hybrids are people too. Humans are people too. And we all deserve to live.” Her mouth turned down into a frown. “Well, everyone except you.” She held out her hand, and Maxar created a long, broad, flaming green sword. The handle was yellow flames so Omaera could hold it, but the blade itself was a bright green, flickering and dancing. Hot and lethal.
“You won’t have to swing it very hard,” Maxar said. “It will cut through flesh and bone quite easily.”
Omaera nodded and glanced at me, equal parts hesitation and fear in her eyes. I stepped forward, reaching for the handle of the sword. “You don’t have to do this. You will still be a strong leader if you let someone else take over. You haven’t been Queen long. And you’re grieving for your aunt. Let me help you, Little One.”
My large hand enclosed around her small one, reminding me of our earlier conversation about how I said I wanted to teach her to catch fish with her hands.
“You don’t need this weighing on you. She deserves her sentence, but it’s not up to you to see it through.” My grasp tightened on hers and for a moment. I really thought she would let me do this for her, but she shook her head, flicked me away, raised the sword, and brought it down over the demon’s neck, slowly, but with fluidity. Zero hesitation and with the strength of a thousand queens .
Her eyes glowed bright emerald from the reflection of the green flames as the sharp scent of burning flesh filled the air along with smoke.
The demon, to her credit, said nothing. Not a peep. And until the final sinew piece was severed, she glared at Omaera with so much hatred that I knew, beyond any lingering doubt in my mind, that if we’d allowed Raewyn to live, she would have tried and quite possibly succeeded in killing Omaera.
Her racism ran deep and there was no cure for it. No amount of rehabilitation, therapy or otherwise, would heal the demon of her odium toward humans. She needed to be extinguished.
Once the job was done, and her head had been successfully removed from her body, Omaera dropped the sword to the ground and visibly crumbled right before our eyes.
I went to her, sweeping her up into my arms and carrying her to the couch. She was so small and light, it was like carrying a baby deer. She still wore her purple silk scarf over her hair, and the same tank top and booty shorts that she’d slept in last night. Her skin was like satin against my rough palm as I stroked her legs, calming her down.
The first time I ever took a life had me feeling very similar.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t calm my mind.
And I kept wondering if there was any other path I could have taken that would have spared the person I killed.
There wasn’t.
And there wasn’t a different path this time either.
“You did the right thing,” I said softly as she leaned against me. I made sure to turn us away from Maxar as he finished up with Raewyn’s body, using the same black flames as before to reduce her to ash. “She would have killed you. She would have betrayed the crown and killed Gemma.”
Tears trickled down her make-up free face. “Do you think she’s killed other humans before?”
“I’d bet my life that she has.”
She nodded and exhaled a deep breath through thinly parted lips. “Yeah, I thought so too. Didn’t make the decision any easier though.”
“If it’d been easy, I’d be worried. A good leader doesn’t take serious issues like this lightly. They weigh their options and look for the fairest, most democratic—and humane way—to deal with a situation. You didn’t torture her. I’m sure she felt very little pain. But you’ve spared many human lives now, taking her out of the equation.”
“Has your dad had to do things like this?”
I nodded. “On occasion. There is generally a trial. Sometimes it goes up to the High Council, depending on the circumstances.”
Her eyes widened.
“But given that you’re new to the crown, and this was a very tenuous situation, you made the right call. And we will all stand by you. Nobody—beside others who hate humans—would disagree with your choice of sentence.”
“All done,” Maxar said. “You can turn around now.”
I spun us around on the couch where the psycho fire mage stood with a big Ziploc bag full of gray ash in one hand and a broom in the other. He was also smiling like the depraved lunatic that he was. I groaned and cringed. The man got far too much joy out of this.
Omaera’s mouth dropped open. “Burn the broom, please.”
He nodded and it burst into flames in his hand, falling to the ground in another heap of ash.
“What do you wish to do with her remains?” Drak asked.
Omaera shrugged. “I don’t know.” She glanced between all of us. “Is this going to set off a stream of events now? Did she have a mate who is going to come seeking revenge? Parents or siblings?”
“She had no mate,” Drak said, his phone out. “I just told King Howar what happened. He is deeply sorry for recommending her. She has no mate, and was orphaned as a young demon. No siblings either. She worked as a bartender at an underground realm BDSM club.”
“I need to check on Gemma,” she said, almost robotically, standing up and heading toward her friend’s bedroom door. “I . . .” she sighed and glanced back at all of us. “Thank you for . . . saving us. For taking care of this.” Then she knocked on Gemma’s door and entered, closing us out.
“So, do we look for a new demon advisor for her?” I asked, standing up and going back to the kitchen where I’d dropped my kebabs. “She needs help harnessing her powers.”
Maxar opened the sliding glass door and dumped the demon’s ashes over the side of the balcony, allowing it to get swept up in the wind.
“Leave the door open,” I said, when he returned into the apartment. “It smells like burning flesh in here.”
“I don’t mind the smell,” he said with a shrug.
“I already have King Howar searching for a replacement advisor,” Drak said, still texting on his phone. “There aren’t very many demons in the city. Mostly vampires and mages.”
“Demons like it hot,” Maxar said. “There are lots in the desert and tropical areas. Not so many in the temperate, coastal, and rainforesty places.” He glanced at one of my kebabs on the coffee table. “Can I have one?”
I glared at him, then growled, shaking my head. Bears did not share food. Unless it was with our mate or cubs.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Jesus, never mind. Grumpy fucker.” He went to the fridge and pulled out some of the leftover Indian food from dinner, then began gnawing on a samosa.
“She needs to meet with the Council,” Drak said. “They’re unwilling to reschedule again.”
“Was the Council this pushy with King Donovar?” Maxar asked. “Or are they trying to dominate the new, na?ve queen from the get-go? Make her think she has less power than she really does? Because it seems to me that they’re giving her absolutely no room to figure things out, grieve her dead aunt, her old life, or come to terms with the fact that our world exists.”
Drak and I exchanged looks. He was King Howar’s head guard and enforcer, and I was the shifter Prince. If anybody knew how the High Council operated, it would be us.
It pained me to admit it, but Maxar was right. The High Council was pushing Omaera and trying to manipulate her. And I didn’t fucking like it .
“I take it from your silence that I’ve hit the nail on the head,” Maxar said bitterly, his top lip curling up in disdain. Fuck this stupid mage. He was unhinged for sure, and useful when it came to some of the things he could do with fire, but he was also really fucking annoying with how accurate he was about certain things.
Even though my father was the shifter King, I was now loyal to one person and one person only.
My mate.
Her best interest was my one and only priority.
I would kill my father for her.
But rather than resort immediately to patricide, I figured a phone call would be better. Maybe I could talk some sense into him. Perhaps if he knew that the new queen was his daughter-in-law, he might not be so pushy. He might give her time and space to figure out her new role and responsibility to the Realm.
A quick glance at Drak told me he wasn’t having the same kind of thoughts about King Howar as I was about my father. He believed that pushing Omaera was what was best for the Realm.
Well, fuck him.
I was going to put Omaera first, no matter what.
Even if it meant killing my own father to do it.