Awake in Shadows

by Eve Langlais

  Yet, who are they to take anything from me?

  How dare they sentence her without giving her a chance to defend herself!

  How dare they punish me for daring to love!

  Her hand remained empty, and Mammon laughed. “You are less than nothing now. Give up. Your lovers lie dying. You are forsaken. Kneel now, and perhaps you can serve me again and have some purpose in your life.”

  “I will never be your prisoner again.” She glared at him. Never. “Diimon Makir, I summon thee.” She put some force behind her words and held out her hand, willing the magic to work, feeling it fill her for a moment before the disjointed spell extinguished it.

  Her lips pressed tight as Mammon laughed and reached for her.

  A jolt of hot magic filled her, familiar and scorching. Some of her dark despair lifted. Desmond wasn’t dead, yet, and he fed her some of his magic.

  She flexed her fingers and mouthed the name a third time. It was enough. The solid hilt of her sword appeared in her hand. She gripped it and smiled.

  “Impossible,” Mammon spat. “You were stripped of your magic.”

  “You can’t strip something that is a part of me. The tribunal only made me think it was gone.” She peered at him through a hank of platinum hair that fell over her face. “Like you, they made a mistake when they didn’t kill me.”

  “You can’t kill me. I am a lord, and you are forsaken.”

  Her lips twisted into a cruel smile. “You’re right, I am forsaken, which means I have nothing to lose.” But in that moment, she found a purpose and its name was vengeance.

  For the first time, a hint of fear entered Mammon’s gaze.

  “Kill her,” Mammon shouted. “Strip the flesh from her bones and bring me her skull.”

  The minions obeyed and scrabbled across the roof, claws clicking and jaws hanging slack.

  For a second, the old nightmare threatened to grab hold. She shook off that fear. It didn’t belong to her.

  She dropped into a battle stance and said, “Bring it.”

  Eager to fight, her sword extended an extra foot, the blade an inch wider. Rather than wait for the demonic charge, she rushed it, swinging her blade like a scythe, mowing down the demons in her path. She didn’t fight alone. A large, furry body found a second wind and joined her. To her other side, Titus tore into some fiends, no longer the prim and proper gentleman as his teeth sheered through tough flesh.

  But the demons weren’t her true enemy. She stared at Mammon and stalked towards him, swinging her sword.

  Mammon fought back, first tossing fire at her. She deflected it with her sword. Spears of ice came next. They shattered against her steel. Chunks of concrete torn from the roof’s crenellations were deflected by her blade.

  She dodged everything he threw at her. The agility she’d trained for, the dexterity she’d earned in practice, served her well.

  And this time, she didn’t fight alone. Allies had her back and held back the horde as she moved to stand before Mammon. He didn’t budge, facing her with a sneer on his lips.

  “A sword against my hands?” He held them out. “Hardly fair.”

  “Wasn’t it you that said I don’t fight fair.” Her lips curved into a smile.

  “You do remember our time together.” He clapped his hands, and a curving scimitar appeared, the matte black of the blade pulling at the scant light on the rooftop. “Admit it, I was the better lover.”

  “Bastard.” She charged him, and he parried the thrust. They danced on the rooftop while Titus and Logan kept the other demons at bay. Of Desmond, she saw nothing.

  Surely, one blow hadn’t felled him? A quiver ran through her at the thought. Only to calm as she felt the tether between them still there. He lived.

  And she didn’t have time to figure out why she cared.

  She swung at Mammon’s head. Narrowly missed getting herself eviscerated. A good thing she’d not had regular meals. The blade whistled past her hollow belly.

  They traded blows. Parried. His brutish strength the only reason Adara couldn’t finish him with superior skill.

  It would be a battle of endurance, and she feared she was losing. Her strength ebbed. Her movements slowed. The damned spell struggled to take away what she’d found again.

  Mammon didn’t have his own body fighting against him. He remained as energetic as ever.

  The tide of the battle changed. She went on the defensive, and he knew it. Knew he was winning.

  He smiled, his teeth razor sharp, his gaze dancing with flames of triumph. “Oh, I can’t wait to—”

  She never did hear the final part because a massive creature swooped from the sky. A goliath amongst lizards. An emperor amongst beasts. A pissed off dragon who opened its mouth wide and swallowed Mammon in a single gulp.

  Crunch. Crunch.

  The wet chewing stuck with her a moment as she gaped at the departing ass end of the dragon.

  Then, she couldn’t help a hysterical titter as Titus said, “And that’s why you don’t piss them off.”

  “Dude is gonna end up as dragon shit.” Logan snorted. “Seems like a fitting end, wouldn’t you say?”

  “A fitting ending would be forgiving me for not realizing Mammon’s perfidy.”

  Hearing Desmond’s words, she whirled and saw him standing, holding a hand to his middle, his shirt stained with blood. But it took more than a simple stabbing to kill an Ifrit.

  “Forgive you?” she spat. “You didn’t find me.” The pain of it flared anew.

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “I called for you.”

  Sadness filled his gaze. “I didn’t hear.”

  “Because it was all a lie.” If he truly loved her, he would have known.

  “Please. Forgive me.” He held out his hand.

  She stared at it.

  Noticed how he’d not changed one bit. Still as handsome as she recalled. Even after everything that had happened, her heart raced at the sight of him.

  Part of her remembered the happy times. The elation when she basked in his love. Then the despair as Mammon taunted her. Tortured. Made her believe Desmond didn’t care. All the times she cried because her lover never came to her rescue.

  But was Desmond to blame? His brother had betrayed him. The magic that bound them. Failed them both.

  Now that they were reunited, he asked for forgiveness. Wanted another chance.

  Didn’t he understand that their love couldn’t survive what she’d endured?

  She’d changed. Her body and soul would forever hold that taint. Which meant, no matter how it hurt and how she longed to run into his arms, there was only one thing to do.

  She sneered. “Go to Ha’el.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Through the thread still binding them, her anger burned Desmond. It seethed with betrayal and hurt.

  So much hurt.

  How could he ever have believed she was dead?

  Not only that, but he’d failed her. She was right when she accused him, for he didn’t protect her against the machinations of his family. Never came to her rescue. How could he not realize that she needed him?

  And now, she refused to give him another chance.

  She stood before him. No longer a stranger. The magic hiding her almost gone, but still trying in spits and spurts to hide her. Her features shifting from the stranger he’d first beheld to the woman he loved.

  He drank in the sight of Erela. He’d never imagined he’d see her again.

  She stood tall. Proud. Her violet eyes flashed with anger. Her hair, while mussed and shorter, still the white gold he remembered.

  What he didn’t remember was the hostility in her expression. The hatred. The disdain.

  “Erela—”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “Erela is dead. My name is Adara.”

  “That’s not your real name.”

  “The tribunal took my name from me, along with my memories and everything else when I crawled to them for help af
ter my escape.”

  The tribunal knew of her torture? Why was he not informed? “Did you not tell them to contact me?”

  “Why would I? Mammon made it very clear you had no interest.”

  “He lied.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she yelled. “How was I to know when I could feel you inside me? Feel you going on with your life.”

  His fist clenched tight enough that his nails dug crescents into his flesh. Smoking blood dripped. “I swear, I thought you were dead.”

  “I wished I was.”

  It told Desmond a lot that she’d wanted to die because the woman he knew never shied from a fight. “How did you escape?”

  “Not with your help,” she sneered.

  “I didn’t know. If I had, I would have—”

  “What? Come to my rescue? Would you?” she asked. “You wouldn’t even tell your father about us.”

  “I was waiting for the right moment.” Because the repercussions would have sent shockwaves through both their kingdoms.

  “You waited too long.” She slashed a hand through the air. “And now I’m done. Done with you. Done with the tribunal. Done with everything.”

  His lips flattened. Knowing she had a right to her anger didn’t make it easier. But now that he’d found her…there was a chance to make amends.

  A hysterical laugh bubbled from her. “Don’t bother saying it. I can feel what you’re thinking. You think I’ll eventually forgive you, and we can go back to what we were.” She shook her head. “That won’t happen. I’ve changed.”

  “Your experiences might have marked you, but you are still the same person inside.

  “Are you so dense as to think things can go back to how they were? Not happening. I have a new life now. New friends.”

  “Them?” Desmond sneered as he gestured to the wolf by her side and the vampire on the other.

  In reply, she sank her fingers into fur and clasped the hand of the bloodsucker. “They came for me. Every time I’ve been in danger, they’ve known and come.”

  “I would have come, too.” It burned that she truly thought he wouldn’t.

  “But you didn’t. And every time I look at you, I think of what he did.”

  She walked past Desmond. Head held high.

  He reached out to grab her arm, and the wolf snapped at him.

  Desmond glared. “Erela.”

  She cast him a glance over her shoulder, one of regret. “Goodbye, Desmond.”

  Never goodbye. Didn’t she understand? The mark on his heart was forever.

  “It’s not over between us, Erela. We are bound, you and I.”

  “You’re right, we are tied. Until death do us part. Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be long before someone comes for me. Have a good life, Desmond.”

  She walked away.

  And it was almost as painful as the moment he’d thought she had died.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Adara said very little as they left the rooftop. What was there to say?

  She’d come face-to-face with her past.

  Face-to-face with her ex-fiancé. Lover. The man who hadn’t made it in time.

  Logan almost felt sorry for Desmond. He knew what it was like to arrive too late. To see someone you cared about, someone you loved, suffering.

  But on a more positive note, Adara had left with Logan. On a more annoying one, she’d insisted on bringing Titus, too.

  With the threat to Adara gone, there was no need to remain at the hotel. The room was just a reminder of what almost happened.

  While there was blood on the floor, Stefan’s body was gone, and no one knew where. Or even if he lived.

  Titus didn’t seem too bothered, mumbling something about the incubus leaking his secrets.

  Not yet ready to deal with Logan’s pack—especially given the number of voicemails Kevin had left—they accepted the dragon’s offer—sent via a hotel manager—of complimentary use of a penthouse condo only a few blocks away.

  Arriving at the new location, there was a silent agreement that they all needed to shower. They split into separate rooms, each with an en-suite.

  As Logan soaped and rinsed the ichor from his skin, he worried about Adara. Concerned that tonight’s violence and the memories flooding her would send her into a tailspin.

  She’d confronted her nightmare.

  But would she recognize the fact that she survived?

  Logan finished his shower and with no clothes on hand, snared a robe. Exiting his room, he discovered that he was the first one done. Rather than wait, he knocked on her door. “Adara?”

  She didn’t reply. Good thing? Bad?

  With no tie binding them, he couldn’t sense her emotions.

  “Adara.” He knocked again, more firmly.

  Titus joined him, also wearing a robe. His a midnight blue to Logan’s brown.

  “Can you hear her?” asked the vampire.

  Logan shook his head.

  “I’m worried about her.”

  “Ditto. Should we knock it down and check on her?”

  “Go away.” The words, while muffled, were irritated and not morose.

  “You’ve got ten minutes to show your cute face,” Logan shouted back, “or I am coming in.”

  “I am not going to hurt myself.”

  “You’d better not,” Titus replied. “Because that would be letting them win.

  “You’re a fighter. Fighters don’t give up,” Logan added.

  “I don’t need a pep talk,” Adara snapped. “I’m fine.”

  “Of course, you are,” Titus placated. “You won today. But the battle is not done. You must rest and recover, dearest. You will need your strength for when you take your vengeance.”

  Logan elbowed him and hissed, “Vengeance? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Titus dropped his voice. “She needs purpose.”

  “She needs to not have demons and shit coming after her. How is advocating violence a good solution?”

  “Speaking as one who knows and has experienced trauma, retaliation is sometimes the best and quickest remedy.” Titus grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I hear someone approaching the apartment door. Probably the meal I ordered for her.”

  Damned vampire always feeding Adara. It might have pissed Logan off more, except there was usually plenty enough for him to scarf down, too.

  Only judging by the murmur of voices, he wasn’t going to get fed.

  Or maybe he would. He wondered what Ifrit al fresco tasted like.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Adara wandered the new bedroom she found herself in. She ignored the luxury. Didn’t see the beauty.

  She was caught in the shadows of her past. A history not completely clear.

  But she did recall enough.

  That fateful day she was on her way to meet Desmond. The note he’d smuggled to her had changed their meeting spot to the woods, but she’d not been suspicious. Why would she when they’d strolled countless times before, hand in hand, in that forest? Kissed under its boughs.

  After her defeat, when she woke in the dungeon, she’d reached for him. Reached for the tie binding them, used it to call him. But he never answered.

  And Mammon had laughed. Laughed and told her that Desmond was the one who betrayed her. That her lover had led her astray this entire time. Amused himself at her expense.

  The longer the torture lasted, the more she believed it. It had to be true because true love would have saved her.

  According to him, he thought me dead. A plausible excuse, enough to forgive. Problem was, Adara just couldn’t forget.

  Given the room only had a robe and nothing else, she eventually felt a need to wander forth in search of real clothes and sustenance. The low murmur of voices drew her, as did the warm thrumming in her chest as the mark she bore pulsed to life, an erratic stutter long enough to fill the empty hole within. Which just made it worse when the mark faded again.

  The stubborn spell clung tightly. Ho
wever, it was only a matter of time before it shattered completely.

  Bare feet on thick carpet muffled her approach. She entered the central living area to find Logan and Titus dressed in robes similar to hers.

  Desmond was there, too.

  No surprise. She’d felt it in that brief moment of wakening. What she didn’t appreciate was the flare of happiness at the sight of him.

  “What are you doing here?” she snapped. “I thought I made it clear I want nothing to do with you.”

  “You can’t ignore the tie that binds us.” He placed a hand on his chest.

  “You managed to ignore it just fine when I needed you most. So, I think I can manage.”

  “I told you, I didn’t mean to ignore it. We were played. Betrayed by Mammon and the tribunal. They are the ones to blame. The ones who cursed us because we dared to indulge in the forbidden.”

  A bitter laugh escaped her. “They didn’t curse us. They cursed me.” She stabbed her chest. “I was the one who suffered.”

  “I suffered, too. I thought you dead.”

  A snort escaped her. “You would dare to compare your hurt feelings to what I experienced?” She advanced on him and spat, “I was raped, Desmond. Tortured. Beaten. Healed and then hurt all over again. When I finally did escape and sought help, I was betrayed again. My mind wiped. My family. My heritage. Everything taken from me. And you think you can equate that to what you felt?” She laughed, the sound part hysterical, part weary. “Go away.”

  “No.” He crossed his arms in that stubborn way she loved.

  Used to love. Adara needed to shield herself against Desmond. But what could she use as a weapon?

  “Are you going to keep harping about that mark?” The one that tried to pulse weakly in her chest, striving to break free of the curse. The one that filled the coldness inside of her with warmth. “You think it’s so special? It’s not.” She lied and turned from Desmond to face Titus. “I know I just had your binding removed because I was mad you didn’t give me a choice. But since the mark was taken away, I’ve realized how much I’d come to count on it. Not to mention, how I feel about you. About you both,” she said including Logan. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to put it back.”