Chapter 4 The Kingdom of Hell
FOUR
THE KINGDOM OF HELL
“Is there a hell hole somewhere? A pit? A hand basket perhaps?” I’ve trailed along in silence for so long I just can’t take it anymore, and the word vomit spews from my lips with all the things I’ve been thinking for at least an hour.
The attractive lines of Zilo’s muscular back deepen, and he turns to me with a disturbed glare in his pale green eyes.
“What the f—what are you talking about ‘a basket’?” he growls.
“Hell. How will we be getting to hell?” I blink at him, but it’s Romey who makes the first comment. Or sneer, I should say.
“You think you get to hell in a hand basket? You’re a fucking goddess blessed beautiful mess, aren’t you?
” That carving smile of his is nasty in a way.
Cruelty stings his words like that smirk kisses his lips.
Even if he says the most lovely thing, it’s stained in abuse.
I don’t know what hurt him, but he seems adamant to return the favor to every single person who so much as looks his way.
“Once we’re far enough away from all civilization, I’ll be our maker,” Avian explains, not noticing Rome’s dark demeanor one bit. I know he’s blind, but…he must feel it right? Does he know how much his friend hurts?
Do any of them even remotely care about each other in that way? Or is the plan to overthrow a ruler just a job to them, just as High Hell is a job to them? Are their relationships a job to them?
“Maker?” I ignore all their flaws among one another and try to understand.
“The magic of hell is fueled by the realm itself. Men like Roman and Zilo, they’re impossibly strong within the realm of hell.
But I’m a maker. I can carry that magic with me.
I’ll make our entryway for us. It’ll be safe and easy.
You do not have to worry.” His hand lifts toward me, but he doesn’t touch. He’s polite and considerate.
How the hell did Avian end up with these two obtuse alpha-holes? They have the emotional capacity of a burnt hotdog. The personality to match too.
“Just do it here. I haven’t heard a single footstep in miles.” Roman’s serious for once. A thin line of concern is between his dark eyebrows. And stranger than that, his long fingers touch Avian’s upper arm in a comforting way I didn’t even realize he was capable of.
It’s then that the light of the moon brightens the white lines that cut across Roman’s back. They’re jagged and harsh. Deeper in some places and longer in others.
They’re scars.
My stomach jolts at the sight of the viciousness marring his golden skin. My insides crumble, but the men don’t give me time to process the thousands of wounds this man carries with him every day.
“If I’m caught, they’ll singe my magic,” Avian whispers, his silver eyes big with concern as he looks up at the man at his side.
I want to look away when Rome’s thumb brushes back and forth along the smooth, sun-kissed skin of Avian’s lined bicep. I want to. But I don’t.
Roman doesn’t reassure his friend. He doesn’t seem to be the type to understand or offer that kind of comfort to anyone.
But he does keep his hand gentle against Avian. It’s the smallest connection. It’s an unspoken passing of comradery.
And it seems to be all that the maker needs.
For he lifts his index finger just above his head. It sparks with golden and charcoal colors that burn into the night air. He cascades his magic down in one long arcing line that turns to fire right before my very eyes.
Within a matter of seconds, a perfect circle is burning in glittering sunbursts like a tunnel into the depths of pure shadows and emptiness. It’s nothing short of incredible artisan magic.
“To enter, I’ll have to lower our wards, and you’ll have to be in your true form.” Avian turns to me, and my heart dead falls right into the deepest part of my turning stomach.
“I-I can’t do that.” I shake my head so fast my pale blonde locks shift along my face.
“What?” Zilo’s rumbling tone is hinting at aggression as it seems to always be doing.
It isn’t fucking helping right now.
“Shift. Every second of our time that you waste is another chance for Avian’s magic to be spotted. Fucking change. Now!” Roman takes a hard pounding step into my space, and my nails bite into my palm at his storming closeness.
“Calm down, Rome,” Avian warns.
“Listen to your friend,” I whisper through clenched teeth.
Roman’s thick eyebrows lift high, and I can physically feel his power radiating off his smooth chest. It’s a spark in his eyes. He wants the altercation. It’s something that gives him life. Maybe that’s all he has.
But right now is not the time.
“I physically can’t shift,” I say as rationally and steadily as I can.
“You can’t or won’t?” Zilo tilts his head low, and though he isn’t as forceful as his friend here, I know he’s just as powerful. More powerful from the looks of him.
“I can’t. I try and I feel it build but just…never happens.” I swallow hard at the self-conscious confession that I’ve kept secret from everyone I’ve ever met.
It’s my secret. And I just gave it away to three strangers for the simple price of early admission into hell. Lucky me.
“Ah, so it’s performance anxiety, huh?” Rome’s perfectly snarling smirk is right back against his lips.
“I fucking hate you,” I finally tell him.
“I know you do.” It’s a whispered statement that fans over my cheek as he leans in. His warm words wash further down my neck as he whispers once more. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
My palms collide hard into his chest, his warm skin lingering along my fingertips for what feels like an eternity. Especially when he grips my wrists and pulls me forcefully against his nakedness.
The slamming of my heart kicks in just as I lift my leg, my knee grazing against the spot just between his thighs. His eyes widen with sparking interest of some kind: Excitement. Deranged insanity. A little bit of both, maybe.
But my knee never connects.
And his pain never seems to come.
Because with the next pounding of my heart, heat floods my flesh. It scorches my skin. It fucking burns me alive me in pain.
Smoke and fire blaze in slashing colors, but I fade away into nothingness before I can fully see the effects of my surroundings.
And then…I’m pacing on four strong, powerful legs.
What. The. Fuck.
First time, huh, beautiful? An annoying little voice says at the back of my mind. Avian would have taken things slow with you, but it feels better when it’s fast and hard, sometimes doesn’t it?
The forest is a blur of dense darkness around me. My sight swims as it tries to adjust. When I try to speak, a pathetic little whine is all that comes out.
No one likes a whiner. Stop. You’re making us look bad. Roman’s voice is all I know.
I can hear him. I can feel him. His warmth and energy is wrapped all around me but it isn’t suffocating like I’d imagine it. It feels .. natural. Like he’s holding me in the most intimate way no one ever has before.
“You didn’t have to absorb her,” Avian scolds.
When my—Roman’s—head looks up, Avian is staring down at us. A familiar look of disappointment is in his boyish features.
“Whatever. We need to go,” Zilo says and then, in an explosion of smoke, he too shifts. An enormous beast with shining black fur and jagged white teeth now stands at my side. He’s bigger. Bulkier. Scarier.
Without a second wasted, he leaps paws first through the fiery circle of golden magic.
A long drawn out sigh shoves from Avian’s lips as he shakes his head. Another pulse of ashen fireworks and a lean, chestnut brown wolf stands where the sweet man just was.
He’s smaller than myself, less intimidating. Sweet, gentle, wolfish eyes peer up at me.
You’ll be okay. Avian’s smooth voice whispers through my head, just a bit more distant than Roman’s had. It’s like glass separates him and me. We’ll take care of you. We won’t let anyone harm you.
It’s a calming sentiment. The tension in my incorporeal body eases even more into the caress of Roman’s embrace around me.
Too bad Roman doesn’t let it last. He literally cannot promise you that. You’ll be lucky if you make it one day in this hell hole of a kingdom.
I fucking hate you, I whisper like a caress.
I know, Beautiful, he says right back.
With me in tow, he leaps. My heart free-falls as we descend into the warming feel of consuming magic that sucks us right through the makeshift entrance of Hell.
And my only regret is that I could have kicked that fur fucker in the balls just one second earlier.
When we shakily land in the depths of new darkness, I feel firm hands wrapped around my lower back. I can’t explain it as I stand on four furry legs, and yet, I’m held intimately against a strong protecting male.
Sorry, someone says within my mind in a gravelly, quiet tone. So quiet that I don’t immediately recognize it as Roman’s voice at all.
He’s awkward in this moment as the hold slips away with lingering fingertips against the skin I no longer see but still completely feel. His energy isn’t entertwined with mine any more. There’s cold distance somehow.
It’s—it’s whatever. Not a big deal, I tell him.
If I could cough out an uncomfortable sigh in this moment, I would.
Why is my heart pounding so hard?
Because you’re in hell, maybe? he answers my rambling in that cruel careless way I’d expect from him.
That’s better. I like our snark over of our chumminess. It’s easier. It makes more sense.
Our wolf shakes out its head, and we gaze around at the shadows.
I see nothing, but I sense the two other wolves standing at our side.
They’re silent, but in their silence, I feel more at ease from their nearness.
Their power feels like my power. Their confidence is my own.
And their comradery is something that surges in my heart like pumping blood rushing right through my veins.
This must be what it feels like to truly be a part of a pack. To not feel like you’re on the outskirts looking in just because you’re different.