Wrath Curse: Supernatural Battle (Demon Peaks #2)

Chapter 1

I became aware of staring at a stone ceiling.

Blink.

“At last,” someone said, sighing after. A female.

I wasn’t alone. But where was I?

I turned my head to look at my company, having already registered that the woman was a crimson in smoke and scale. A powerful demon, in other words.

Her eyes widened. “You’re awake!”

Gratia. My sister-to-be. I frowned and lifted a hand to rub my temple. Tried to. My arm didn’t work. Neither did my legs. “I was attacked.”

She arched a brow. “In a sense.”

Oh good, a coy answer. I wouldn’t want any clear explanation.

“Your eyes opened a week ago,” she said without further prompt. “And you started to chant in human five days ago.”

Which meant I’d chanted in Magus. Demons loved to lump all supernatural races together with humankind.

Gratia shook her head. “You didn’t blink once that whole time, until just then. Did it hurt?”

“To blink?” I rasped.

“I figured your eyes would be dry. I’ve been tempted to put drops in them.” She trailed off at my look. “What do you remember?”

I tried to twitch my fingers and won the battle. Weakness wasn’t a great state for any demon, especially not for the mate-intended of the demon king, who also wanted to kill the demon king.

What did I remember?

My son.

My twin escaping to Earth.

Tiers. Winning the game and saving the life of Tsan, my lucky yellow demon. Then the intense craving from the arena’s magic. The…

Carmine and I had tried to complete the next ritual in our mating.

“The joining ceremony.” I returned my stare to the ceiling. “We spoke the words. Everything was going fine. Something went wrong.”

My mind, like my body, felt numbed by ice and weariness. I’d been thinly sliced and laid out in the sun to dry, like fucking jerky.

Gratia snorted. “I wouldn’t say the ceremony was going fine. It was going, in the same way a bird may fly with an injured wing and their entrails falling out.”

She could’ve stopped at “broken wing.” But I got her point. I remembered how the words of the ritual had seemed to stick in my throat. I’d had to pretend to be my younger self, who’d loved Carmine, to get them out.

“I need to get word to Mother that you’re awake,” Gratia muttered.

Athira? Great.

Wait, she was on my side. Or had been when I was last conscious. I shouldn’t assume that was still the case.

Gratia slipped from the room, and while she whispered to someone outside, I did my best to put together the pieces. And move my body.

Whatever had happened, I’d nearly died. I could feel the lingering threat of it like a bone-deep cold that had settled over my entire body. My insides felt chilled. Different.

Where was Carmine?

Dead? A girl could only dream.

Though if that were true, then I’d be interim ruler. Except the mating ritual was incomplete, and I wasn’t officially queen, which would serve as an invitation for any strong demon to try their luck for the throne.

Not ideal in my current state.

I closed my eyes and dove inward. As expected, my demon magic—the black smoke that simmered under my skin—was nothing more than a wisp.

The color and feel of the smoke had altered, too, and grays and charcoals enriched my usual coal black.

Those changes were due to completing another ritual in the mating.

I’d felt similar changes after the last three rituals.

I released a breath. Once I recovered, my power would be greater. Thanks to somehow completing the ritual and avoiding death. Apparently demons shouldn’t go through with mating rituals unless they meant it.

I tuned into my Magus power. The divination magic wasn’t thriving, either, though the affinity flowed faster and stronger than my demon smoke. Phew. The joining ritual really did drain my magic to the point of death.

Gratia returned, a curious smile curving her lips. “Raes is going to Mother.”

Raes, her new purple mate-to-be.

“Things are going better?”

“The fortress is in chaos since your ceremony,” she said happily. “No one is sparing a thought for my mating.”

I twitched my fingers again. “How nice for you.”

Carmine’s sister sat. As always, she was elegantly dressed in a flowing gown that concealed far more than the average demon’s loincloth.

She said, “I knew the ceremony would be entertaining. You’d shaved your head, and your dress was clearly designed in an attempt to keep my brother as far from your body as possible during the ritual.

Absolutely hideous. Then you choked on the words of the ceremony like I choke on human concepts.

All in all, I was highly enjoying myself.

Then your magics… locked together. You and Carmine disappeared inside a vault of magic, and your shared power was out to destroy everything and everyone in its path.

Mother ordered the area cleared, and I ushered everyone to the ballroom.

She took a breath. “I returned, and the power you and Carmine were releasing switched direction. Instead of pulsing outward, the power drove inward.”

I shivered. I remembered that—the swirling power, then the moment it started to attack me. Gratia’s crimson eyes widened. “All the power was drawn into you and Carmine, and when it stopped, he was holding your dead body. He wasn’t saying anything. It was like my brother was dead too.”

“I wasn’t dead,” I countered. Clearly. Just mostly dead.

Gratia’s face firmed. “You were dead. No heartbeat, dead and bereft of smoke. Dead.”

My brows rose.

She nodded. “Carmine took issue with that, for obvious reasons. He broke free of numbness or despair, or whatever was freezing him. He poured his power into you, and by the time he did as much of that as he could, you both appeared dead.”

He’d done that? I mean, keeping me alive meant more power for Carmine. Without me, he’d always be weaker. My death could have meant his too. But to pour his power in until he’d nearly died did imply a level of… emotion.

I released a breath. “We weren’t dead.”

“I’m still not sure. Mother and I whisked you both away to this bunker.

Then we returned to the ballroom to celebrate your successful joining and announce the shocking heights of your shared lust to the other demons in the fortress.

We barred access to Carmine’s private rooms. Raes and I go there a few times a day to shake the walls.

No one believed us, of course, but they didn’t dare to disagree with Mother either. ”

Couldn’t blame them. I hardly dared to disagree with Athira. My mother-in-law was terrifying. “So no one has dared to kill Carmine because Athira is the strongest demon in the realm now.”

“A resounding yes, sister.”

Sister. I guessed that was true. On paper. But Gratia and I were far from being real sisters.

I peered around. The chamber was entirely made of stone. Apparently the royal family had bunkers for near-death occasions. “Where’s Carmine?”

“Next door. Not awake.”

Great. I just had to restart my body, then crawl to the next room and kill him. Crawling felt like a monumental task. I needed help. And that meant admitting something very few demons admitted. “I’m weak.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

I glared at her.

She smirked. “Would you like help?”

I held my glare. “Gratia, would you help me?”

Her smirk gained a sparkle of pure glee. “Two weeks have passed. You need food and water first. Only rest will heal your magic. Unless you want me to bring in a healer?”

I wasn’t that desperate. No one wanted to see a demon healer. Twisted fuckers. “Food and water will be fine.”

A knock sounded. Gratia strode to answer. “Thank you. You got it to her?”

I wrinkled my nose at her breathless tone.

Raes answered, “She knows. How is Syera?

“She should recover. How is Carmine?”

“No change.”

Perfect. If I were a lesser demon, then I might have gloated about recovering before Carmine. “I need to speak to Athira.”

Raes poked his head through the doorway. “Hi, Syera. Going okay?”

“Swell,” I answered. “Yourself?”

His lips curved. “Swell, you could say.”

Gratia snorted and elbowed the purple.

Gross. But good on him.

I repeated, “I need to speak to Athira.”

Gratia glanced back. “You want to speak to my mother?”

No one in their right mind wanted to speak to her ever. My request was suspicious. “Who said anything about want. If Carmine is still out, then I need to speak to Athira.”

“Mother has it under control—”

She cut off at my look.

“Raes, could you get that to her?”

He winced. “Of course, mate.”

Gratia beamed, then accepted a tray from him. She perched on the stone slab by my feet. Seemed like near-death should have earned me a softer recovery area. Maybe a bed?

“I can’t sit,” I told her.

“I know. I just like making you say it aloud.” She set the tray on the small table beside my slab before hooking an arm around my shoulders to sit me upright.

“Can you stay there?” Before I could answer, Carmine’s sister used her crimson smoke to hook the chair and drag it over, then transferred me across like I was a child.

“Should I feed you, Syera?” she asked sweetly.

What a brat. A brat that was older than Carmine. “Yes, and that’s an order.”

Her eyes narrowed.

I smirked as she lifted a brimming spoon to my mouth. I swallowed, then groaned as the broth trickled down my parched throat. “So good.”

Gratia brought me another, then a goblet of nectar.

I rested my head back after devouring the contents of the bowl and goblet. “Please tell me this place has a bed.”

“Next room.”

I cracked an eyelid. “What? Why didn’t you put me there?”

“You were probably going to die. We didn’t want to move you a second time if we didn’t have to.”

That had to be the most demon thing I’d ever heard. Even worse? That logic resonated with me. “Fair enough. I’d like to go there now that I am definitely alive.”

Gratia carried me into the next room. I hadn’t felt this weak in my entire life, except in grief after the murder of my entire family. Joining with Carmine hadn’t just drained my power—my soul felt wrung out. There wasn’t a single layer of me left that possessed strength.

I couldn’t hold back my sigh as I sank into a soft mattress.

“I’ll put the rest of the food on your bedside,” she said.

Exhaustion dragged me under now that my stomach was full. “Tell me how Carmine is. Really.”

She answered without thought. Perhaps now that I’d joined with Carmine, Gratia had erased her prior suspicions about my reason for returning to the fortress.

“He’s unresponsive. No movement at all.” She forced a smile. “But you were the same until opening your eyes.”

A week ago.

The unspoken words hung between us. I was weaker in power than Carmine. He should have recovered faster. “Nothing else is the matter with him?”

Her smile brightened. “Nothing else.”

Lie. She was keeping something from me. But if Carmine was weaker than me for some reason, then more the better for me.

I sank into the depths of a sleep that felt more like a return to unconsciousness.

Next door.

Incapacitated.

I was going to kill Carmine, once and for all. My son would finally be safe.

Just as soon as I could walk again.