Chapter 10 Xerxes
Xerxes
The false king made his way towards me, dark eyes set on my cage.
His eyes were a blue that reminded me of a lake.
What made them dark, though, was the presence of unmistakable evil.
We did not believe in true evil; there was corruption, there was danger, and there was power—those three things could influence a Primal to go against our basic instincts for peace.
But there was no other word to describe the male approaching me. His dark, tainted power prickled the hairs on my arms, ruffling my fur uncomfortably. There was something wrong with him as he stopped in front of my cage.
“My enforcer says you can speak,” he said, eyes scanning my Primal form. “What an…interesting creature.”
A low growl left my lips. “I will tear you apart.”
The male chuckled as his two followers joined him. The Fae remained blank faced, but the vampire sneered. “Funny,” the false king spat. “None of your brethren could take anyone in my army. What makes you think you can?”
My claws elongated, the nails scraping my palm as I curled my hands into fists. I could not move from the centre of the cage where the collar held me. The other beasts were free to roam their cages untethered.
“You tried hard with Thor, but it appears you two were evenly matched,” Dante continued, rubbing his chin. “I won’t kill you—yet.”
My stomach sank, but I tried to tear myself from the chains, anyway. The collar around my neck sparked, sending a shock of power through my body. My muscles tightened, spasming, and when the shocks released me, I dropped to the floor with a grunt.
The vampire laughed, his voice throaty. He had a darkness about him, too, but not like the evil surrounding the false king. His was a cruelness born of something else. “They always fucking try.”
I would enjoy tearing his throat out.
The false king pressed his hand against the bar, amusement leaving him as he stared at me.
His irises changed, taking on a soft glow.
I felt something in my head as his eyes locked on mine, a pressure building in the back of my skull.
Almost like an intrusion, it felt like a tapping against my flesh, a prodding touch trying to break into me.
And it did, silently and without resistance. I could not protect myself fast enough from the dark power that infiltrated my mind.
Then a word played through my head. Shift.
At first, I resisted. Clamping my jaw shut, I felt my breaths quicken as the command sounded again within my mind. Shift.
“Why the hell isn’t he moving?” the vampire asked quietly, but I didn’t take my eyes off the false king.
A different voice filled my head, a memory from before. Of the small female with the red hair and wild, untamed eyes. Pretend, she’d said. Play the part when the time comes.
I’d had no idea what that had meant at the time. Perhaps pretending for Phaedra, who thought my fated and her mates were the enemy. Pretending in the eyes of Ivy, before I knew she was supposed to be my mate. But that hadn’t made any sense to me, either.
Now, though, it did. Suddenly, her words had meaning, purpose.
She wanted me to pretend before the false king.
And although I didn’t know why, I let the shift take over and transform me from Primal to male. A frown darkened the lips of the false king who eyed me with wary caution, but he didn’t speak.
Once the fur receded and I shrank to my normal height—putting me taller than the false king still—the male lifted his head. A tick appeared in his jaw that revealed his irritation. Instead of commenting, he stepped back and gave me another once over.
“Assess him for charms or anything that might bring my brother and his friends to our doorstep,” the false king said without another look at me. “Then give him to a handler.”
As the king turned on his heel to return to the shadows of our temporary prison, the vampire and the Fae shared a look.
Before I knew what was happening, darkness swarmed my vision, plunging me into a nightmarish realm of death and destruction.
A realm without her.
Cold water hit my face, a familiar reminder as the rest of the dream disappeared. It reoccurred every couple of nights, and with it always came the dull ache of failure. That reminder that I was just as trapped as her.
The only difference was my cage was made of lies and deception, a false safety that could implode at any moment should the false king or any of his army learn the truth.
I was not their loyal soldier. I was not under his spell.
I sputtered, the stale water—icy and rotten—filling my mouth.
Standing over me was a commander in the false king’s army, also known as Chief.
He was not my handler, who seemed to have disappeared between dragging me to my cot last night and now, and this male was not anyone of real importance. At least, not to Dante.
My muscles and bones ached with a fierceness that made me wince as the rest of my surroundings came into focus.
Once again, my cot was soaked through from the early morning wake up attempts.
There was no telling what time it was, as there were no windows, no view of the sky. We weren’t even allowed candles.
The disorientation was a kind of torture, but I refused to allow Chief or my handler see how it affected me.
Instead, I stumbled into a standing position, keeping my eyes locked on the stone wall behind Chief’s head.
The male was shorter than me by a head, but he was stocky and broad.
His entire form reminded me of an ancient tree stump—wide, round, and strengthened by age.
“Hope you slept well, beast,” the male grumbled. “You’re on early morning rounds.”
I blinked hard, trying not to let my confusion reveal itself.
I had never been on rounds before, though I knew what it was.
I would be tasked, likely alongside my handler, to walk the halls of the compound to assess magical defences and ensure there were no leaks.
Not of magic, or soldiers, or anything else that could easily lead my fated’s mates back to her.
In the days being here, I’d been itching to go on rounds. To understand the layout of the compound. Chief and the false king had no idea how greatly I appreciated the chance.
If I had my magic, I’d be able to map the compound in my mind with ease. But even so, I didn’t need my power to remember the layout of the underground structure.
Swallowing hard, I bowed my head in a single nod to show I understood Chief’s words.
The male only let out a sigh before shoving fabric into my arms. I maintained my footing, but his strength took me by surprise.
The ring of red around his eyes explained he was a vampire, but his fangs remained hidden despite the emotions he clearly felt: irritation, frustration, boredom. He disliked dealing with me.
But that was exactly how I liked it.
They thought because I came from their Old World, I was incompetent. Slow. Unaccustomed to war and battle. They thought me an idiot because I chose not to talk to them as much as they wished I would.
If only they understood why…Then perhaps they would learn to keep their mouths shut.
Chief shook his head and exited the small cell that was my bunk room. Eventually, my handler claimed I would be moved into a real room. One shared with the other soldiers. But for now, I was here—and being alone was better than the alternative.
I slipped out of yesterday’s dirty, bloodied clothes and pulled on the dull grey uniform of the soldiers.
The material was thick, hard to breathe in, but it moulded to my body almost perfectly.
Despite the heaviness of the fabric, there was a decent layer of protection to it, partially from the magic woven into each thread, and also from how much it covered my body.
It was almost similar to the clothing my fated wore alongside her mates, only this was designed to suit a specific role: conformity.
Boots tied and belt attached, I exited the cell, entering the dark corridor that made up the bunk rooms. There were several other soldiers milling around, though none paid me any attention. Some of the curiosity had already worn off for most, but others were wary of me. And they should be.
My handler appeared with a familiar look of boredom and said nothing as he pushed past several gathered soldiers. I knew already to follow without question, and so I did.
“How many did he injure last night?” one soldier asked, arms crossed, head lowered. There was a nasty, fresh scar running down his face, slicing through his nose and upper lip.
“I think last count was fifteen before he was knocked out and taken back to the cages,” a female replied with a flip of her hair. “It’s a wonder he didn’t kill anyone.”
“Can’t believe no one slaughtered the beast,” a third muttered, his eyes finding mine as I passed. “What are you looking at, freak?”
I blinked and looked away. They snickered something else behind me, but I paid them no attention. If they thought words would get under my skin, then they would need to try harder.
If there was anything I’d learned during my time in the compound thus far, it was how strange the soldiers were. They were immature, arrogant, too confident. It was why they believed themselves infallible like their false king. It both made them dangerous and pathetic, a combination hard to read.
Or they were weak-minded and under Dante’s control, forced into a prison of their own. There were many trapped by the false king’s power, without access to their own mind—their own bodies. Many likely had no idea they were even soldiers in his army.
We passed several of them, their eyes unseeing as they guarded the metal cage of the elevator.
Handler hit a button, going up. “Our objective today is to assess weaknesses within the compound,” he stated, barely looking at me as the doors opened. “You’re observing. So, keep your mouth shut.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from reacting.
To them, I was just like the weak-minded guards under his control.
But as I drew in a deep breath, I caught familiar scents.
The spiced aroma of the winged male from my fated’s mate circle and the bloodied, rotten smell of his vampire handler.
Along with other guards I’d had the displeasure of meeting over the last several days, including the demon who brought me to the false king.
And hidden, barely perceptible, was the traitor himself.
The elevator opened to the medical floor.
Here, the walls were a bright white, almost shiny.
The doors all remained locked to maintain a sense of privacy, but I could scent despair and fear in the air.
The hint of blood from wounds caused by stupidity.
The harsh reminder that those dragged here weren’t just locked away to be healed.
Handler moved to a wall and pressed a rune, starting his sweep of the magical wards, but my mind wandered back to the ship I’d been transported to after I’d attacked the bear.
Those moments were ingrained in my mind, forever imprinted on my memory.
I would never forget her scream of anguish.
The rush of her magic as it swept over me and the landscape.
The storm that’d wrecked my world in response to her suffering.
“Still no word from Hyperion?” The King didn’t bother looking at us as he addressed the Fae male. The light from the hatch went away, flooding the room with a familiar darkness once more.
The Fae male shook his head. “None yet.”
“He wasn’t meant to kill the boy,” Dante murmured, more to himself than his followers. “Now, it might all have been for nothing. We need her ready for the blood moon, but if she doesn’t have her bonds, then we are no closer to Emris’s power.”
“Primal.” A hand shook my shoulder, drawing me out of my thoughts. My handler stared at me with irritation, eyes dark with emotion. It was one of the few he showed regularly. “You still with me?”
I blinked, nodding once. “Yes.”
The male made a sound in the back of his throat as he slammed his hand into the rune, making it disappear. “Move. Sweep the hall.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded again and turned towards the corridor. As I did, I felt a twinge of my magic, the remnants of my connection to the earth. It was almost like a whisper of what I knew I needed. What I had to remember.
And it was that here, I was alone, but I was not powerless.
I would find my mate, free her and the others, and then I would save my world from the bloodied hands of the false king.