Chapter Thirty-Three
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Pain throbbed in Yuri’s bones like a drumbeat. Every breath stirred an ache beneath his skin while his wings hung heavy at his back, rubbed raw where the bindings had worn too tight. And yet he kept his head held high, refusing to give his captors the satisfaction of seeing him struggle.
Proud demons marched Yuri through the village like he was a prized beast being hauled to market. The village had likely been a thriving town before they’d overtaken it. Old banners still clung to buildings half-covered in grime, torn and faded as they swayed in the gusting air.
Yuri had recognized Severin’s camp as an anomaly, but this place made the differences stark. Rot and sulfur thickened the air, the kind of stench that sank into skin and cloth and that no amount of scrubbing could ever lift.
Don’t react, he told himself. You are stone.
The greedborn who dragged him carved a straight path through the village, heading for a structure that might once have been an inn.
The stonework held, but it was clear no repairs had been made since the demons laid claim to the land.
They’d run this place into the ground until it was nothing but bones.
And only when there was nothing left for them to destroy would they leave to find a new village to wreak havoc on.
“Take him directly to Kieran” was all Velestra said before the doors swung open.
Yuri’s stomach twisted at the scent that knocked against him like a physical blow. The air was thick with musk and incense, and the space was lit as if with magic. Light shifted through the room, hazy red bleeding into deep violet, then gold.
A pleasure den.
Yuri had heard mention of places like this, though he’d never expected to see one with his own eyes.
Silks pooled like spilled ink across the floor, demons lounging in sheer fabrics that may as well have been nothing at all.
A golden-skinned greedborn rode her partner, her movements slow and indulgent, as though savoring the act like a fine meal.
A silver-skinned male stood before her, his claws twisted into her hair as he fed himself to her mouth.
A lustborn woman lay splayed atop a long banquet table, her back arched in pleasure as another demon feasted between her legs, his curved horns gleaming as she gripped them.
It wasn’t just demons, either. Humans were scattered throughout, some of them blindfolded with their heads tipped back in surrender as clawed hands explored their bare flesh.
Others knelt, mouths parted in silent invitation, their bonded watching nearby.
Yuri’s stomach churned at the sight of a human woman and a male lustborn, their fingers laced as they each lay entangled with different lovers.
Their eyes never left each other’s even as they shuddered beneath the hands of strangers, their gazes drowning in shared pleasure.
Blessed Light …
It was too much. Too much flesh, too much sound, too much sensation.
The air itself seemed to vibrate with ecstasy, the den pulsing like a living, breathing thing.
Yuri tried to avert his stare, but there was nowhere to look that didn’t drown him in indulgence.
Yet even in the frenzy of their desires, the demons sensed him.
Some lifted their heads, their slitted eyes gleaming as they turned toward him.
The ripple of attention passed through the chamber like a tremor, curious murmurs spreading.
Velestra gave a sharp tug at his bindings, guiding Yuri through the sea of bodies and toward a red-skinned demon who sat like a king among them.
Kieran.
The prideborn’s long fingers traced the spine of the male before him.
The lustborn trembled at his touch, while a female whispered sinful words against Kieran’s thigh.
With each hushed syllable, the demon’s wings shuddered, the only sign of his satisfaction.
Lazily, his eyes skimmed upward to Velestra, then to Yuri.
Kieran straightened. The two lustborn at his feet barely had time to move before he dislodged himself, turning toward the angel standing in his den.
“Velestra,” he murmured, eyes flicking first to Yuri’s face, then down to his bound wrists. “What have you brought me?”
Velestra preened beneath his gaze. “I believe this is the Chantelune’s newest angel,” she purred, stepping aside to reveal Yuri in full.
The murmurs in the chamber grew louder as a small crowd formed. Some watched with hunger, others with disdain, sneers curling at their lips. Yuri didn’t waver beneath their scrutiny. He kept his expression neutral, holding Kieran’s stare.
The prideborn studied him for a long while. Then, slowly, he smiled.
“Hold him down.”
The command was effortless, spoken as carelessly as one might order a meal.
Hands seized Yuri, claws gripping the vines that bound him and wrenching him forward.
He planted his feet, trying to twist free, but there were too many and the weight of his injuries made his movements sluggish.
He hit the floor hard, biting back a wince as his knee slammed into stone.
Taking his time, Kieran crouched before him. He reached out, fingers skimming along his jaw as he tilted the angel’s face from side to side as if appraising him.
“Aren’t you a pretty thing?”
Yuri spat, his wings tucking instinctively, but Velestra’s hands were already in his feathers, tightening the binds.
Kieran, as if already bored, turned back toward his chaise.
“Auction him,” he said, another lustborn already crawling back onto his lap. “Give him to the highest bidder, then to the next after that. They may do whatever they please, so long as the angel’s kept alive.”
Yuri’s stomach turned to ice.
Stay calm, he reminded himself. Fear is exactly what they want from you.
A ripple of anticipation ran through the crowd, eyes gleaming and fingers twitching with the eagerness of having a new toy to break. A clawed hand skimmed the length of his wing, and he jerked violently while the demons laughed.
“Come now, angel,” a voice purred, close enough that he could feel the heat of their breath. “You and I could have some fun.”
Breathe, Yuri. They will not break you.
Heat pressed against him from all sides. The demons before him seemed to glow, their bodies haloed in firelight from a large hearth that roared behind them.
“A drink,” Yuri rasped, his voice cracking. “I need a drink.”
“You hear that?” someone called out. “The angel wants to drink with us.” Laughter rippled through the room as a small lustborn plucked a half-drunk goblet from a nearby table and shoved it against Yuri’s lips.
“Drink up, angel,” she taunted. “You’re going to need it.”
He drank. The liquid burned as it slid down his throat, thick and spiced. But the second sip …
Make it count.
He spat the liquor onto the demon’s face.
The glow of the firelight glistened upon the alcohol slicking her skin, and Yuri let his Glory flare. The chamber ignited with searing white light. The air split with cries, bodies scrambling back, shielding their eyes against such radiance.
It was the opening Yuri needed.
He leaned back, driving his foot into the demon’s chest. She shrieked and went flying, crashing into the great hearth behind her. The scent of burning flesh filled the air as the alcohol on her skin caught flame.
Her screams drowned out all else. She thrashed, trying to pull herself free, but there was no saving her.
A deep wave of satisfaction surged through Yuri as her cries fell silent. Save for the crackling flames, there was no noise in the pleasure den for a long moment. Then, slowly, demons spun toward him, their faces contorted, their voices rising like a swarm of hissing vipers.
“Kill him!” they snarled. “Tear his wings!”
Like I’d let you.
Yuri flexed his fingers, testing his binds. No matter the odds, he would eliminate as many demons as he could, and Kieran knew it. He held the prideborn’s gaze, his warning clear—if this was to be his end, he would not go quietly.
Someone screamed, “Burn him!”
A rush of heat curled at his back, licking up his spine.
“No.” Kieran’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade. The flames vanished as quickly as they’d come, snuffed out by his command.
Kieran moved toward Yuri, grabbing a fistful of the angel’s hair and wrenching his head upright, forcing their eyes to meet.
“Let’s take him to church instead.” The silk robe he plucked from the chaise might as well have been regalia by the way he draped it over his shoulders.
The crowd fell away, clearing a path as the prideborn headed for the doors.
“You heard him,” Velestra snapped, motioning for the others to follow. “Take the angel.”
Barbed vines bit into Yuri’s wrists as the demons yanked him forward.
Yuri’s heart pounded. He ached for Lori’s feather, tucked away and unreachable in his boot.
He dug his heels into the dirt, trying to stall until he could find a way to reach it, but the demons had no patience for it.
The moment he lagged behind, a sharp pain ripped through his back.
Claws raked through his flesh, splitting the skin cleanly apart.
Yuri let out a strangled breath as he lurched forward, balance breaking beneath him. Gilded blood welled up, warm and thick.
No reaction. Don’t you dare give him a reaction.
Behind him, a demon gave a low, appreciative hum.
“It really is such a pretty color,” she taunted, satisfaction curling through her voice.
Fury painted Yuri’s vision white. His hands ached to snap the demon’s throat. He could kill her where she stood. Even bound, even outnumbered, they were fools to think him defenseless.
But if he struck back now, would they retaliate harder? Would they kill him outright, realizing how dangerous he was even without a weapon?
He needed to hold on.
Severin would come for him.
Aurelie would come for him.
For now, his job was to buy them time.
He swallowed his rage and let himself be dragged through the pleasure den. Many hadn’t noticed the commotion, too consumed to heed the burning corpse in the hearth. If they could ignore the screams of a dying demon, he shuddered to think what else happened in this place.
Yuri kept his wings curled tight, protecting his most precious possession as they dragged him to a small stone church.
Its heavy doors groaned open, dust and dried herbs swirling in the stale air.
Several wooden pews had been overturned, others shattered into splinters. The scent of iron clung to the stones.
Kieran turned to him, his crimson wings folding neatly at his back. There was satisfaction painted across the curve of his mouth. “Such a beautiful thing, that blood of yours. And beauty, angel, should be shared with the world. Don’t you agree?”
Yuri’s blood ran cold as he saw the rusted chains strung from the rafters, hooks glinting in the low light.
No.
He wrenched against his bindings, wings flaring in a desperate attempt to break free.
No, no, no—
There were too many hands. They seized him by the wings, claws digging into the feathers as they hauled him forward. The pain was as sharp as fire.
Those hands pinned Yuri above the altar as Kieran took a hammer and heavy iron nail from the table beside him. Yuri’s pulse thundered as the prideborn ran the tip of the nail over his feathers, tracing the delicate membrane between them.
“You angels think you’re so above us,” Kieran said, voice soaked with pleasure as he pressed the nail deeper. “But let’s see how long you can fly.”
The hammer fell, and Yuri’s mask dropped. He screamed as his vision went white.