Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Archer
What had I done?
Fingers still damp from her pulsing core, I couldn’t move, couldn’t think of anything besides the new, magical connection I’d impulsively created with Delilah.
It was almost too much. The bond swirled inside me, the sensation so blissful and so overwhelming that I could hardly breathe.
Mine.
She was mine. I’d fought against it, talked myself in circles since the moment I’d laid eyes on her, but in the end it hadn’t mattered. I’d acted on instinct and without rational thought.
In my mind, I recalled the words Phips had left Delilah in his letter.
He’ll have no choice in the matter.
How could he possibly have known?
Before I could even begin to consider the implications, Astaroth’s rage-fueled shout filled the silent hall, echoed by the wyvern on the roof. I reacted instantly, sliding Delilah off my lap and moving her behind me, putting myself between her and whatever danger existed.
“They’re gone! My subjects! My beautiful subjects. What did you do to them?” he howled, chest heaving as he stormed toward me, angry eyes fixed on Delilah where she was peeking out from behind the shelter of my wings. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Try it and I’ll gut you where you stand,” I promised, dropping into a defensive stance.
I left the knife in my belt, knowing I’d be more efficient with tooth and claw than I would with any sort of mortal weapon.
“There’s a price on your soul, Astaroth.
We leave unharmed, remember? Take one more step and I’ll gladly add your withered offering to my collection. ”
I could see the moment he realized that he was caught, his teeth clenching in rage at his own impotence.
“She fucking stole them from me,” he snarled, the sound distressed and panicked, and that was when I finally looked around, realizing the cause of his anger.
All of his servants were gone, the silent, kneeling souls he had trapped in his horrific corner of hell had all mysteriously disappeared, leaving no trace.
And Astaroth thought Delilah had something to do with it?
Madness. Clearly, it was time to get the fuck out of the Void.
“Archer?” Delilah’s soft voice asked from behind me, but I couldn’t respond, refusing to take my attention off the threat that was before me.
“Let us leave.” I still wasn’t entirely sure it was possible; but in order to even attempt to leave the Void, Astaroth had to grant us passage. Once that was done, we could sort out exactly how we were going to manage it.
“She owes me souls,” Astaroth insisted, his pretty facade beginning to crumble as he lost control and succumbed to his anger.
Black eyes fixed on mine as he reached out with his senses, obviously finding nothing.
For a moment, he looked completely broken, lost and hopeless, before he shook his head, gaze filled with vitriol.
“There isn’t a single one left in all of the Void.
Eons of collection. All my hard work, ruined!
She’s freed them all. I don’t know how she did it, and I don’t really care. But she fucking owes me, Archer!”
“She owes you nothing,” I retorted. “We had a deal. You know the consequences of breaking it. Let us leave.”
“Archer!” Delilah called again, more urgent this time, and I could feel her moving out from behind me, clocking the moment Astaroth noticed it, too.
“You! You took them from me.”
“You were torturing them,” she stated boldly, her chin held high. “I only wanted them to have peace. I didn’t know what would happen.”
“Purgatory is torture! They were here for a reason. You will pay for this, witch,” he promised, raising his hands, and before I could move—before I could even blink—he had shot a bolt of black energy toward Delilah.
I whirled, spinning to place my back to Astaroth, prepared to take the blow, every instinct inside me ready to sacrifice myself to protect my mate.
Mate. The word curled through my brain like wildfire, the rightness of it settling something inside me.
I had never considered it, that my strange draw to Delilah could be anything more than annoyance and attraction, but now that I had claimed her, it was all too clear.
She was made for me. My perfect match in every way, and I, in turn, was hers.
We were fated.
Curled over her, I spread my wings wide to provide a shield for my pretty little witch, protecting her from Astaroth’s rage.
But the blow never came. Confused, I stared down at Delilah, worried that Astaroth had somehow bypassed me entirely and managed to strike her, but there she stood, tall and proud, beneath my towering height.
Glaring at me for all she was worth.
“Archer, what the hell is this?”
It took me a moment to realize what she meant. Standing there, Astaroth screaming his anger and hatred out behind me, Delilah held the neck of her dress to the side, revealing the vicious, red scar around the freshly burned sigil over her heart.
My sigil.
It was there, pressed into the creamy flesh of her chest, right above the subtle swell of her breast, and the beast inside me thrilled at seeing my mark on her. Knowing that from that moment on, every single person who ever looked her way would know that I had claim over her.
Behind me, Astaroth continued to rage, his power lighting up the room with every stroke, but all I could see—all I could focus on—was Delilah.
And the fact that she was glowing.
I blinked, wondering if I was seeing things. Delilah glared up at me, her beautiful face scrunched into an angry scowl, her whole body emanating a soft, warm glow.
Impossible.
Delilah had proven time and again that she had little to no access to any magic, but looking at her now, feeling the strength through the fledgling bond between us, I realized that she was so much more than even she knew.
“You’ve ruined everything, Leraje,” Astaroth shrieked, his words cutting through my confusion. “You’ve brought her here? You spit in the face of everything I’ve created?”
“Astaroth, I—” I tried to explain, turning to face him, but he cut me off.
“You brought that witch here, into my realm, and you expect to leave alive?”
“You made a deal, Duke,” I growled, once again stepping toward him, needing to draw his ire away from Delilah. “And you know what happens if you fail to honor it.”
Astaroth raised his hands, the black lightning once again erupting from his fingertips, but just as before, nothing happened.
The power arced across the room, barreling straight toward us, but fizzled out before it could touch either me or Delilah.
I could smell the ozone, feel the heat of the magic as it died before us, but it never came close enough to cause harm.
Turning toward a furious Astaroth, I smiled, being extra sure to show all my well-sharpened fangs.
“You cannot harm us, Astaroth, and you know it. The terms of our accord prevent it. Even your own power won’t obey you long enough to break the terms.”
He snarled his frustration, turning his power on the thick stone behind his throne instead, the force of his rage blasting a giant hole in the wall as he screamed. Above us, Balt roared, a pained sound filled with regret, and the remaining walls of the great hall trembled.
“Let us go, Astaroth. It’s the only way.”
Staring at me, his chest heaving and his slitted eyes narrowed with hatred, Astaroth considered my words for a moment before he finally nodded.
“I’ll keep to the terms,” he relented, but I could see how much he hated even saying the words.
“I said you could leave unharmed, and apparently I meant it.” Blowing out a breath, he raked both hands through his hair, smoothing it back into place as best as he could.
“But know this, Archer. If you or that abomination you call a witch so much as set foot back in the Void ever again, I’ll make certain you never leave.
” Behind me, I heard Delilah, her anger at his words coming out in the form of a low grunt.
“Your torture will be slow and glorious. My Magnum Opus, if you will. You will scream your sorrows into the ash of my kingdom until the end of days. That is a promise I’ll never go back on. ”
With that, Astaroth waved his hand lazily, and my magic slammed back into me with the force of a freight train.
My body felt alive once more, my heightened senses returning and, in my chest, the bond exploded, the powerful thread connecting me to the captivating witch behind me thrumming like a live wire.
Before Astaroth could make another move, I reached for Delilah, my clawed hand closing over her upper arm as my other waved broadly, hoping for the best.
Within me, I could feel my magic respond, but only as a partner to hers. It was as though Delilah’s presence was the only reason I could access the earthly plane.
Taking one last look around, I breathed in the fetid air of the realm I both hated and loved in equal measure, then opened a shadow gate back into the cemetery.
“Archer!” she protested as I hauled her toward it. Through the gate, I could see the shocked faces of my men, still standing in nearly the exact same positions they had been when we’d left them.
Had it been hours? Minutes? Time was so fucked in this realm.
“You can flee the Void, Marquis,” Astaroth taunted as we headed toward the gate. “You can tell yourself that your Brotherhood has the upper hand, but even you cannot prevent the inevitable. Samhain comes, and balance must be struck.”
“What?” Delilah asked, turning back, but I refused to stay a moment longer. She pulled, her skin heating beneath my touch, and as I hauled her forward, ignoring her protests, the glow emanating off of her began to pulse as her voice rose to a panic. “What did he mean?”
But I didn’t stop to answer her—mostly because I didn’t have a fucking clue.
Instead, I simply stepped into the shadow gate and dragged her through, getting the fuck out of Hell and leaving the Void behind us.
Hopefully forever.