Legacy of Chaos (Demonica Birthright #2)

Prologue

“Let’s go to the merry-go-round, Stryke! C’mon! Hurry!”

Stryke groaned down at his little brother, tugging on his hand. “There’s no hurry. The thing runs every three minutes, and there’s no one in line because it sucks.”

The little shit bit him. Right there in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ouch. Dammit, Chaos!” He shook his hand out as his seven-year-old twin brothers, Crux and Chaos, darted ahead toward the carousel, their new white sneakers pounding the hot pavement, making the soles light up with every step.

Unbelievable. They were in a theme park filled with loopy rollercoasters, splashy log rides, and speedy race cars, and the little weirdos wanted to ride something they could find at a big city mall. For the third time in an hour.

“Dude, he’s a handful.” Logan, son of the Horseman known as Death, shook his head. At eighteen, just four years younger than Stryke, he was the spitting image of his father: tall, blond, and with a stare that made people move out of his way. “How’d you draw the short straw to be their babysitter today?”

The cute blonde popcorn stand girl gave Stryke another seductive smile as they walked by. She’d been flirting with him the entire time he’d been stuck in the lame-ass kids’ section of the theme park, and each smile was more suggestive than the last one. When he bought popcorn for his brothers, she’d brushed her hip against him in blatant invitation. He would have blamed her advances on his lust demon pheromones—and sure, he was probably putting them out there in pulsing clouds—but she’d had her eye on him even before he got close enough to affect her.

And he’d definitely had his eyes on her.

“Blade took them to the San Diego Aquarium last week,” Stryke said after they’d passed Popcorn Princess. “Rade took them to a movie before that. Apparently, it’s my turn to help out during summer break. My parents don’t seem to give a shit that I’m in the middle of working on my doctoral thesis.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re working on your second doctorate,” Logan drawled. “How can we forget the boy genius who makes the rest of us look bad?”

Stryke rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt. These guys would never know what it was like for him. His brain was in a constant state of manic sensory input and calculations, focusing on a million things at once. If he couldn’t spill some of it out by working on something, his head felt like it would explode. He needed to either organize everything by learning more or release it by creating things like doctoral theses or rocket engines.

Funny, NASA was happy to accept—or, more accurately, steal —his designs, but actually hiring him, a demon, turned out to be a hyperdrive too far.

Also, at twenty-two, he was hardly a boy. He’d gone through his first maturation phase a year ago. Still, in a way, he wished the painful ordeal had never happened. Before the change that had made him sexually mature and insatiable, he’d been able to direct one hundred percent of his concentration into education, research, and science.

Now, far too much of his brain power got diverted into finding sexual partners so he didn’t die. Thankfully, his uncle Eidolon had developed a drug for their kind that allowed them to go up to twenty-four hours without sex as long as they kept up with their injections at six-hour intervals. And from the way his dick was pointing at the popcorn girl, it was clear he needed another dose.

“I’m gonna go find Sabre and Blade,” Logan said. “We’re gonna ride the Ice Tornado. See ya.”

“Yeah, have fun,” Stryke said absently, digging through his pocket for his injector pen. Shit. It must have fallen out on a ride. Maybe Blade or Sabre had one on them. He’d grab one from them after Crux and Chaos got off the carousel.

The twins queued at the end of the line, but the ride hadn’t stopped yet. Stryke glanced back at the popcorn girl, who was hanging a Be Back in Ten Minutes sign.

Perfect timing. He might not have to bug his cousin or brother for an injector pen and be subjected to relentless mockery, after all.

He caught Popcorn Princess as she stepped out from behind the cart.

“Hi,” she said. Her glossy red lips turned into a mischievous smile that made him wonder how they’d feel wrapped around his cock. Depending on the viscosity of her gloss, the friction of her lips on the skin of his shaft could create intense sensations. She gestured at his arm. “Love your sleeve. Do all those symbols mean something to you?”

Given that every glyph from the fingertips of his right hand all the way up the right side of his throat was a history of his paternity, yeah.

“You could say that.”

She traced her finger over the swirls of his ten-times-great-grandfather’s personal symbol. “Must have taken a long time to finish it.” Shivers of arousal shot straight to his groin.

Seeing as how he’d been born with the dermoire , no, it hadn’t taken any time at all. But the very top symbol, a plain, boring square, hadn’t appeared until he was twenty-one, so he felt justified in saying, “Took years.”

“Hmm.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I was hoping you’d come over.”

He was hoping he’d come . “Yeah? What time do you get off work?”

She glanced at her Blain Industries comms unit. First generation. Stryke had just gotten the second gen. Had some cool upgrades, but he could have done them better. He would do them better. Someday, he would put Blain Industries out of business. He even had his future company named.

StryTech.

“Not for another four hours,” she said. “But I’ve got ten minutes and a secret spot. You got any juice?”

Juice . Drugs. Stryke wasn’t into that shit. His mind was already in a constant spin. “No, but I have a condom.”

Not that he needed one. He wouldn’t be fertile until his second maturation phase, which wouldn’t happen for another eighty years or so. But he couldn’t exactly say that, not to a human. At least, he assumed she was human.

She probably assumed he was human too.

“S’okay.” She started down a winding path off the main pedestrian area, her tight ass swinging under her short, white skirt. “I got some J.”

He glanced back at the carousel, which had stopped and was unloading. He should have four to five minutes before Crux and Chaos were done with the ride. Perfect.

They passed a sign that said No Entry . A small building designed like a tropical hut and disguised to blend in with the landscaping loomed ahead. He assumed they were going inside, but Popcorn Girl gave him a flirty look and a “shh” finger against her plump lips before slipping into the brush.

They eased up behind the hut in a little alcove littered with a few candy wrappers and cigarette butts.

“I’m Micha, by the way,” she said as she pulled a wadded bit of plastic from behind a tree.

“Stryke.” He waved away her offer of one of the liquid-filled ampules in the baggie. “And you don’t need that shit. You’ll like what I’m going to give you way more.”

Reaching out, she dragged her finger from his sternum to the button on his jeans. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Done flirting, he tore the baggie from her hand and tossed it to the ground. Flirting was an instinctive skill for most Seminus demons, but Stryke somehow lacked that gene. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her to him, his other hand dipping under her skirt. Her cheap panties didn’t stand a chance against his probing fingers, and she gasped as he slipped a couple inside her slippery core.

“I don’t usually do this,” she breathed, hiking one leg up against his hip.

“I’m sure you don’t.” He hoped he didn’t sound sarcastic because he definitely wasn’t judging her. And then he realized he didn’t give a crap. He’d never see her again.

Except that he liked how willing she was to fuck a complete stranger. Maybe he should get her number afterward and get a sex-only relationship going. No small talk, kissing, or dinner dates. Just pleasure and a see ya later . His cousin, Mace, had about a dozen of those, but Stryke doubted Mace was truly as utilitarian about it as he claimed to be. His cousin liked to flirt. He liked to impress the females. And he loved to be adored.

Stryke couldn’t care less about any of it. Sex with a female was a biological necessity for him, as important as breathing and eating. But that didn’t mean he had to turn every lunch or fuck into a seven-course meal. Who had time for that shit?

“You got a boyfriend?” he asked as he unbuttoned his jeans and backed her up against a tree.

“Not really.”

Again, he didn’t care. But it seemed like a normal question to ask when making small talk.

He guided his cock to her entrance and sank inside her with a groan. He didn’t like the build-up to sex, the courtship and then the foreplay, but once he was balls deep inside a hot female, it was bliss. A few precious seconds for his mind to stop thinking and recharge.

He started pumping, letting his body take over for his brain. He didn’t have time to work her up and get her to come before he did, but he had that covered. His semen would trigger a series of powerful orgasms that would rock her world for up to half an hour.

She would be late getting back to her popcorn stand, and she wouldn’t care at all.

His orgasm ramped up quickly, a searing bliss that built in his balls and blew up his shaft in wave after wave of ecstasy.

“Ah…yes...” He threw back his head and focused on the tension escaping his body and the sounds of the female’s climax.

Around them, the park noises grew louder, intruding on Stryke’s precious few moments of mental silence.

So much screaming.

Some ride must be scaring the shit out of people.

Weird. They were in kiddie land. Why would there be so many screams?

The human was still coming, contracting around his cock and pumping her hips against his. But all around, the gut-wrenching sounds of terror echoed off buildings. Through the gaps in the trees, he caught brief glimpses of people—adults dragging children and strollers, running from the direction of the carousel.

The carousel !

He tore away from the female, leaving her propped against the tree, moaning through multiple orgasms. Heart racing, Stryke scrambled up the path, tripping over tree roots and his feet as he simultaneously ran and buttoned up. He burst onto the main drag, colliding with a man cradling his mangled arm to his chest, his face dripping red. Ahead, the popcorn stand lay on its side, one wheel spinning lazily. People weren’t running now. They were limping. Crawling. Dragging themselves.

“Crux!” he screamed. “Chaos!”

Then he saw the demons. A half dozen inky, nightmarish motherfuckers with jaws full of razor-sharp teeth, Freddy Kreuger claws, and way too many burning crimson eyes.

Logan, Sabre, and Blade rushed toward the carousel, Logan armed with the sword he could summon at will. With an agile leap and a smooth swing of his blade, he sliced the head clean off one of the demons.

Fuck, yeah !

Stryke shouldered past stumbling, panicked people. There! Crux! His little brother, his tawny hair matted with blood, was scrambling over bodies and dodging a demon’s sweeping blows and driving punches.

No ! Terror became Stryke’s entire world as he calculated the distance to his brother and the odds of the demon’s next two blows killing Crux. Motherfucker, he wasn’t going to make it.

As Stryke threw himself at the demon, knowing he couldn’t get there in time, Blade swooped in like a superhero and hit the thing from behind. He drove his fist into the back of the monster’s head, his dermoire glowing with power usually meant for healing but now weaponized. The demon snarled, striking out and knocking Blade away.

Close enough now to smell the beast’s rancid, smoky odor, Stryke slammed into him, engaging his power and serving up a massive heart attack. The demon screeched as its heart seized—all six fucking chambers of it.

Stryke felt Blade’s power join his, causing tears in the bastard’s veins and bleeding him out from the inside.

The thing collapsed. Blade instantly went after another demon as Stryke, his body vibrating with adrenaline and fear for his brothers, scooped up Crux.

“Where’s Chaos?” he shouted, spinning around in search of the other twin. “Chaos!” he screamed. “ Chaos !”

Clinging to Crux, his feet slipping in puddles of blood, he navigated around overturned strollers and mangled, eviscerated bodies, some missing limbs. Or heads. He searched the carousel, desperately hoping Chaos was hiding behind a hippo or lion. He called Chaos’s name over and over, screaming over the sounds of slaughter and pain. The stench of hot blood and bowels filled the air, mingling with the buttery smell of popcorn.

“ Chaos !”

In his peripheral vision, he saw Logan, Blade, and Sabre taking down demons like machines, but Stryke’s focus was on the ride, where a child was hiding behind an elephant, a tiny hand clinging to the carousel animal’s ornate tail.

Abruptly, a stab of pain shot through his skull and down his spine as if he’d been impaled by a rod of white-hot iron. Agony filled him, ripping his voice and breath from his throat. And then, as quickly as it had come, the rod of pain was gone, leaving an emptiness inside as if it had taken a core sample of his soul.

The part of his soul that had been connected to Chaos.

He’s dead . My brother is dead .

Stryke’s gut plummeted to his feet, which became leaden and unsteady. He staggered at the magnitude of his loss.

Crux screamed as his connection to Chaos was severed too.

A hand came down on Stryke’s shoulder. “Stryke…”

Shell-shocked, he wheeled around to Sabre, whose tortured expression and haunted eyes made everything even more real. Sabre was a cousin, not a sibling, so he wouldn’t have felt Chaos die.

But he’d seen it.

Stryke’s brain, which always crackled with energy, went numb. At some point, he must have set Crux down because Sabre knelt and hugged the boy to his chest, shielding his eyes from the massacre around them.

The din of screaming and moaning grew dull as Stryke’s sense of hearing became a victim of shock. His balance went next, his legs turning watery as he leaped awkwardly off the ride and stumbled, heart pounding, to Blade.

Blade, who knelt next to a pair of blinking shoes and… oh, gods .

“ Please, no. Please, no !” he screamed inside his head to whoever would listen. “ Take me. Take me instead !”

Blade, his dark head hanging, his shoulders slumped, turned slowly to Stryke. Tears streamed from his eyes and cut paths through the blood splattered on cheeks gone pale with trauma.

“Where were you?” he rasped. “Where the fuck were you?”

The world spun and went gray. The last thing Stryke saw before he lost consciousness was Blade’s scorching, accusatory glare and those brand-new flashing shoes.