Chapter Thirty-Five
CASSIA
MY HEART IS pounding, giving away my nerves. I shouldn’t be nervous. I have no reason to be nervous. I’m Aziel’s firstborn. I’ve been managing a large team for several years, and I’m good at leading. This is nothing new.
I know how to do this.
First Unit is comprised of a little over a thousand men, most of whom I’ve met over the years. They may not be of General Raum’s status, but they’re highly respected soldiers. Several of them are from noble families. I’ve been around these men my entire life.
Why did Raum put me in charge of them? Why did Aziel agree to it?
They ordered Rexton to supervise me just a week ago. They don’t trust me, and they sure don’t believe I can handle myself within a war camp. Is it because of my injury? If anything, I’d expect them to place even more restrictions on me after I took a spear through the chest.
Is this Rexton’s doing? He claims to be against their suffocating decisions, and he went as far as to snap at Aziel when he entered my tent demanding to speak with me. Did he say something to them on my behalf? I’m not sure I appreciate that.
I’m tired of men doing and saying things on my behalf.
Only twenty-six other men from my camp belong to First Unit. There’s no point assembling until we’re prepared to fight, which is now. The other soldiers are coming from nearby camps.
I pack my things and meet Rexton just before the sun begins to set, and I avoid making eye contact with him as we teleport to the coordinates First Unit has been stationed at.
It’s at the base of the mountain, directly beside the pass that Prince Nolic and his army will be marching through. It’s close to where I was speared.
I place a hand over my chest, absentmindedly rubbing at my sensitive, healing skin as I look around. Things are in full swing. We’re surrounded by soldiers, all of whom are moving with practiced efficiency. They’re experienced, and it’s evident in the way they set up camp among the thick trees.
Prince Nolan doesn’t stand a chance.
“Cassia?”
I turn, making eye contact with a man a few feet away. It’s Raum’s lieutenant general. Androl. I’ve met him a few times, but I don’t have a strong opinion. Thick power rolls off him, not enough to be a nuisance but enough that I know to respect him.
“Androl,” I greet him. “It’s unfortunate we aren’t meeting under better circumstances.”
He nods, polite but curt. What does he think of me being here? Was he assigned to oversee First Unit before I was given the honor? Does he approve? I shouldn’t care, but I do.
I try not to look at the large scar cutting across Androl’s forehead, but my eyes still momentarily flicker toward it. Scars may be common for the weaker species, but it takes a significant injury to permanently mark a demon.
Most are gained in battle, or in childhood before our power has fully developed.
Androl received his in battle. It was several hundred years ago, and I don’t know the details. He was captured by a hoard of ogres, and those little fuckers are known for their love of torture.
I’ve heard horror stories regarding their treatment of women during the female decline, and I can only imagine the things they did to a young Wrath warrior. Androl was with them for almost three years before we were able to locate and rescue him.
I suspect not many know what happened during that time. I’ve tried looking. We keep extensive records, but Aziel redacted most of Androl’s accounts.
Androl clears his throat. I lower my gaze, ashamed to have gotten caught staring at his scar.
“Our final soldiers are just now arriving,” he says. “Let me show you around.”
I nod. Should I acknowledge my staring? Should I apologize? I cast a sideways glance at Rexton, hoping he can sense where my thoughts have gone. He’s positioned slightly behind Androl, out of the lieutenant general’s view, and he makes intense eye contact with me before pointedly shaking his head.
No apologies, then.
Androl gives Rexton and me a quick tour, showing us where the leadership tent is and where I can find food. There’s not a moment of pause within camp, and I can tell immediately that I won’t be getting much, if any, sleep these next few days.
Androl pulls open the flap of an unmarked tent and steps inside. I follow, mindlessly glancing around the small space. There’s a cot pushed up against the right wall, and on the other side is a short desk. A bathtub is nestled between the two, so I assume this tent belongs to Raum.
Unless the spear incident has earned me a bathtub. I wouldn’t complain.
“This is where you two will be staying.”
“Us two?” I spin toward Androl. “Are Rexton and I to share a tent?”
Androl furrows his brows. “Yes?” His gaze flickers between Rexton and me. “We aim to take up as little space as possible, and Raum said you two wouldn’t mind sharing a tent. Is there an issue with that?” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure I can scrounge up…”
“It’s fine,” I blurt out, interrupting. It’s actually not fine. It’s far from fine, but I don’t want to be a burden. “We only need a second cot.”
Androl nods, visibly relieved. It confirms my decision not to make him find a separate tent for Rexton. A cot should be easy enough to secure.
“I’ll have one brought in,” Androl says. “I’ll leave you to unpack your things and get settled. Let’s meet at the leadership tent in thirty minutes.”
He’s gone a second later.
I turn toward Rexton and gesture to the tub. “Clean yourself.”
Rexton recoils. “Excuse me?”
Do I need to spell it out for him? “You smell like me. I suspect you haven’t showered since the attack, and my blood has soaked into your skin.
Raum seems to believe that you and I are together.
There’s no other reason he’d tell Androl to supply us with one tent and one cot.
It’s an assumption I don’t want anybody else making. Wash my scent off yourself.”
“I do not—”
“Yes, you do,” I say, interrupting his budding argument. “And we’re not leaving until you no longer smell of me.”
I pull open the tent and wave over the nearest soldier. He’s wearing a patch on his shoulder that signals he’s here to support and help out around camp, not to fight.
“I need this tub filled,” I say.
He nods, then vanishes.
I turn back to Rexton, refusing to concede. This is a battle I’m going to win.
Rexton flattens his lips into a thin line, his hands clenching and unclenching as soldiers file inside our tent with buckets of water. The tub is filled within minutes.
I point to it. “Hurry up. We’re running out of time.”
Rexton’s face is turning red. I enjoy it more than I should.
“Turn away,” he orders.
I raise a brow. “No.”
“Cassia…”
I blow out an exaggerated breath, then make a big show of turning around. Rexton’s performed in Lust sex shows, for fuck’s sake. Why is he so concerned with me seeing him naked? I’ve seen naked men before, and for the most part, they all look the same.
They have two small man nipples, a belly button I try hard not to look at, and hairy legs.
If I’m lucky, they even have broad shoulders and a muscular torso.
I also particularly enjoy powerful legs.
There’s not even much variance in the pubic region.
Once you’ve seen one dick, you might as well have seen them all.
They’re fun, but not particularly unique.
I’m offended Rexton won’t let me see his. He saw me naked, and I didn’t make it weird.
Fabric rustles and drops to the floor. I wait until I know Rexton is fully unclothed, then look over my shoulder. Rexton’s facing away from me, in the middle of climbing into the tub.
My breath hitches.
I take a step back and sit, landing solidly on the stiff cot.
Rexton is covered in scars. There are so many of them, too many to count, spanning the entire length of his back.
From shoulder to shoulder and down to his tailbone.
Are they lashes? The scars are uneven. Some are thin and long.
Most are short and thick. Some have flattened and turned silver with age, and some are raised and red.
“I—” I don’t know what to say. “Rexton?”
He ignores me, but he’s tense. He’s noticeably stiff as he lowers the remainder of the way into the tub, and he sinks until most of his back is hidden beneath the porcelain. He’s too tall to disappear entirely within it, though, and most of his shoulders remain exposed.
“I asked you to turn away,” he mumbles.
His voice is quiet. It’s unlike him, and I don’t like it.
“I had no idea.”
Scars like his are unheard of among demons. It’s a miracle the state of his back isn’t already common knowledge, especially after his Lust performances.
“I don’t remove my shirt in front of others,” he says. “I never have.”
I continue staring at his back.
“Who did this to you?”
I’m faintly aware I’m shaking, my power is rolling off me in suffocating waves. I can’t hold it in, and I can tell Rexton notices as he peers at me over his shoulder. His expression is unreadable, guarded and closed off.
How many people know about his scars?
I can’t look away. There are just so many. I can barely see his skin underneath.
I rise from the cot, maintaining eye contact as I close the distance between us. Rexton doesn’t shoo me away, not that I’d listen if he did, and I find myself holding my breath as I place my hand between his shoulder blades.
The skin is rough. I’ve never felt anything like it.
“Your parents?” I ask.
Rexton’s silence is the only confirmation I need. I drop my hand, preparing to teleport. I knew they abused him, but I chose not to read his hospital reports. I didn’t realize the extent of it, and I know their address.
I’m going to kill them.
Back-to-back teleportations will weaken me, but the fuck if I care. First Unit doesn’t truly need me to fight. Aziel and Raum gave me this position out of pity, and murdering Rexton’s family is my new priority.
I hate Rexton and everything he stands for, but he’s mine to hate.
Rexton’s wet hand curls around my arm, forcibly stopping me from teleporting.
It’s damn near impossible to stop a demon from teleporting.
At most, a demon can initiate physical contact and trail along.
That’s not happening, though. Rexton is fighting against my power, using his own to keep us inside the war camp.
How is he doing it? Even Aziel can’t fucking do that, not to a demon as strong as me. Silas can, probably because he’s old as fuck and has the fates backing him up. Valeria can, too.
“Stop it,” I hiss.
Rexton shakes his head, gritting his teeth. He’s keeping me here, but it’s not easy. “No.”
I try again, fully prepared to drain myself if that’s what it takes. This is a battle of wills, and I’m incredibly fucking stubborn. If Rexton wants to keep me here, I hope he’s prepared to drain himself to do so.
Water splashes over the side of the tub and onto my feet as Rexton rises, his movements annoyingly agile. I try again to teleport, ignoring the pain in my chest. I’m still not fully healed and shouldn’t be exerting myself like this. It’s hindering my healing.
Rexton grunts.
I’m yanked forward.
I can’t make sense of what’s happening as I trip over the porcelain lip of the tub, and I have just enough time to gasp before my head is forced underneath the water. My hair sticks to my face, and bubbles fly out of my mouth as I attempt to scream.
Is Rexton trying to drown me? Does he think that’s going to work? I’m scared of a limited number of things, and drowning sure isn’t one of them. Let him fucking drown me. I’ll murder his parents dripping wet.
Two hands cup either side of my head, then lift my face from the water. I draw in a ragged breath and let out a loud, mocking laugh before being shoved back underneath the surface. I’m not held down for long. Rexton pulls me out after only a few seconds.
I immediately try again to teleport.
“Fuck, Cassia,” Rexton hisses. “Stop!”
I try to teleport again. My chest is burning, and my broken ribs ache.
Rexton hauls me out of the tub, and I clutch his biceps in a sad attempt to remain upright as he shoves me against the desk. He’s trying so hard to keep me here, but he has no idea what I’m capable of.
They hurt Rexton. I’m going to kill them. It’s as simple as that.
Rexton makes brief eye contact with me before burying his face against my neck. I should expect this, I really should, but I find myself shocked and unprepared as he sinks his teeth into my sensitive skin, threatening me with a bonding mark.
Every muscle in my body is taut, and I dig my fingers into his biceps as his warm breath washes over my wet skin. I stop trying to teleport, my focus now on the teeth in my neck and the naked man pressed against me.
He wouldn’t dare.