Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Blood Lover’s Guild, Blood Kingdom
Daire
“Hey, I like rough play as much as the next fae, but watch the wings,” I holler over my shoulder, as I am unceremoniously shoved into the circular room, which is painted in red.
The door slams shut behind me.
I ruffle my feathers, resettling my wings agitatedly.
Those High Priestesses who run the Guild are so sensitive. I’d only been taking one of their dancing classes and might have been testing how far a Shadow Vampire’s blood lust could be provoked by baring my neck.
After all, wasn’t that what they were teaching me?
If I’d also scratched my nail secretly along my collarbone to reveal the nectar scent of my blood, then no one could prove it wasn’t accidental, aye?
If Lanlin, the fanged bastard, thinks that he can outwit me, then I am going to use this time to work out how to outwit him.
How bloody ironic that he thinks he’s protecting Freya from me.
At least I know that she still has my pinion feather.
Does Lanlin reckon he can part a fae from his soulmate? If he does, then he truly doesn’t know anything about true love.
Or fated mates.
Why did it feel like my heart being wrenched out of my chest to have someone who I was meant to be betraying…betray me instead?
To be kicked out of the pack, when I had only just allowed myself to believe after the loss of my family, friends, and kingdom that I could finally have one again?
Shows that I am a thrice devil damned fool.
I scrunch up my nose at the copper tang of stale blood that pervades the entire Blood Lover’s Guild. I glance down between my bare feet at the floor, which is stained with suspicious patches of red that aren’t paint.
It’s freezing, and I shiver.
I’m only dressed in the Guild Uniform of a fawn-colored tunic, which is embroidered with antlers, and a bronze stag brooch that marks me out as a Hart.
The room is dark with only a single high window. I can’t see much more than shadows but feel with my toes along what appears to be a bed of straw.
It makes me almost nostalgic for my dungeon cell in the Shadow Court.
Almost.
“What happened to the cushions, silk ribbons, and fluffy pretty things?” I muse.
The rest of the Blood Lover’s Guild for the sweet Shadow Humans is sickeningly cute and soft. It’s like being in the center of a beating, pulsing heart, where the Shadow Humans kneel and worship the vampires, and at the same time are treated like treasured pets.
“By my horns, bad boys don’t earn rewards,” a deep, lilting voice says from the corner of the room.
Instantly, I drop into a fighting crouch, spreading my wings. “Who are you?”
“A dangerous Omega.”
I try to focus on the movement, as someone small unfolds from the corner, before confidently strolling toward me.
No one should confidently walk toward the Raven King, the most dangerous fae warrior.
Except, I’m disguised as the pet, Dove, who has been handed over like an unwanted stray to the Guild.
Clearly, I’m no longer intimidating anyone.
“And who are you?”
“A dangerous fae,” I can’t help replying around bared fangs.
The Hart, who is dressed in the same Guild uniform as I am, stops close in front of me.
I am impressed by his bravery and how relaxed his shoulders are.
I straighten, folding my wings. I eye the Hart.
He is a couple of years older than I am and beautiful like all Shadow Humans are. He is an Omega with golden hair that falls across cornflower blue eyes.
His shoulders are strong, however, and it feels sacrilege that he should be locked up in this dark place and not tilling the fields under the warm sun.
“As I said,” the Hart gives a bright smile, and his long, pointed red ears twitch, “the bad boys. Only poor brainwashed worshipers, who will offer their necks to bleed for the dark gods, get cakes and cuddles.”
I study the Shadow Human’s busted lip and torn uniform, which reveals purple bruises ringing his arms.
This Omega has definitely not been receiving cuddles.
My hands ball into fists.
On the Shadow Gods, all that bollocks Lanlin fed me about never hurting Omegas or Blood Lovers…?
He said that he didn’t know what happened in this Guild.
How can you be a good leader, if you don’t make it your business to know everything that goes on in your own court, or willfully close your eyes to it?
How can Lanlin act superior, while others get their hands dirty for him?
When I oversaw my army, I made it my responsibility to know that everyone was being taken care of, personally. I wouldn’t sleep, rather than allow the most junior featherglass be bullied or hurt under my watch.
When I find my way back to the royal nest — and I will — I’m going to kick Lanlin’s arse for how the Blood Lovers are treated.
I know something about your world being reduced to ash. But we’re kings. The fates of millions rest on our shoulders.
Lanlin can’t act the hermit outcast anymore. Freya and I need to force him back amongst the living rather than the dead.
Although, I have grudging respect for anyone who can outsmart me.
But it’s only going to happen once.
Shadows drip like waterfalls from the Hart’s antlers.
The Shadow Humans are deer shifters, but they are magically weak.
They live simply and close to nature.
The wolves once revered the fae as feathered gods.
My chest is tight.
It hurts to have lost that respect.
I smirk, however, because I like this rebellious Shadow Human; he reminds me of myself. “Do I sense some sarcasm in the way you say dark gods?”
The Hart’s cream-colored tail swings in anger, where it sticks through a hole in his uniform.
“Should a knave god be worshiped without question, no matter what they do? Our elders believe that if they don’t give over the prettiest Omegas to their dark gods, then the harvests will fail or the floods will wash us away.
We will break the balance and bring chaos.
It’s what the Void Cult preaches. How could our villagers survive without their blessing? ”
“Still with the sarcasm, Antlers.”
His ears perk up. “Pet names already. You move fast.”
I laugh.
Then I throw myself down on the straw, wrinkling my nose at its stink.
I didn’t expect to find this easy companionship with anyone again. Not after losing the featherglass.
Not after losing Ciara...
I stretch as if I am lying on the luxury cushions and silk bedding that the other Blood Lovers are enjoying.
Then I hold my hand out to the Omega. “I’m Dove.”
He hesitates for a moment, before shaking my hand. “Barnabas.”
I cock my head. “Am I meant to know that name?”
For a moment, the shadows grow wild and jagged around Barnabas’ horns, and his eyes glow in the dark.
I sharply sit up.
He said that he was dangerous.
Now I believe it.
This will be fun.
“I have many names.” Barnabas swaggers to lean against the wall. “Traitor. Murderer. Heretic.”
I stiffen, on the alert and trying not so show it. “I have many names just as flattering.”
“By my tail, I can tell.” Barnabas chuckles darkly. “What’s with the mask?”
“Like it? I’m a fae of mystery, aye?”
“And I led a rebellion to revolt against the dark gods. I was the eldest Omega son of my village’s leader.
I labored hard all my life to send food for the Bloods to feast on like rabid curs, while some winters we starved.
I saw my mother weep, while two of my younger brothers were selected to be sent to become Blood Lovers.
When my final sister was chosen too, I…”
“Snapped?”
“If that is what you call leading a Shadow Human rebellion against their own gods.”
“And how did it go?”
Barnabas sighs, sliding to sit on the floor. “Since I am here as my punishment, fucking badly.”
I push myself up, crawling to join Barnabas against the wall. Our shoulders are touching. His ears are sadly pinned to his head, and he has wrapped his arms around himself.
I nudge him with my shoulder.
“But you tried.” I don’t know if I am talking about him or myself. “The important thing is that you didn’t just lie down and let the arseholes take your freedom without fighting back.”
“Is it?”
His head is ducked.
“Aye, Antlers.” I soothe him with my pheromones, and his ears perk back up. “When I first came here, I thought that you lot were all meek and shy, prancing around with these cute ears and tails.”
Barnabas snorts. “Fuck that. I’m an Omega but I still have balls. They call us Harts and Hinds like we’re nothing but their prey. I wanted to show them…just once…that some of us are stags. Do you know how life-changing it felt to gore the bastards with my antlers?”
I grin, viciously. “You do have bloody incredible antlers.”
“And ears.”
“And a beautiful tail. I’m jealous.”
“Well, you have wings. I’m jealous.”
The door crashes open, making me jump.
“If I may interrupt this mutual admiration society, precious as it is, Blood Lovers…” The voice sounds cruelly amused.
I fight to remain relaxed on the floor next to Barnabas.
I recognize the voice as belonging to Nebet, the Chief Priestess.
This isn’t good.
A sweet lotus scent wafts into the room. But Nebet isn’t sweet.
Instead, she snatches Barnabas by the antler and twists.
He lets out a scream.
A Shadow Human’s antlers are as private, intimate, and sensitive as a fae’s wings. Only a soulmate should touch them.
Nebet drags Barnabas to his feet. She is at least a head and a half taller than him, and he dangles off the floor. He never stops struggling, however, wrenching from side to side and attempting to gore her with his antlers which are sharp with shadows.
No matter how hopeless the situation or how powerless he is, he doesn’t stop fighting.
My guts curdle. I want to hurl.
It’s like looking into a mirror.
I bare my teeth. I’m shaking. Tremors wrack my wings.
Fuck the Blood Court, the Scarlet Temple, and everyone who uses their power to control the weak.
I leap to my feet, struggling to hold myself back because if I fight Nebet now, then I may reveal my true nature.
Who I am.
My mission.