Insurrection (Monarchs of Hell Book 1)

by R. L. Caulder

  Except, that was almost worse because the two of them began to yell at one another. My ears buzzed as anxiety started to make me feel like I couldn’t breathe. There were so many eyes on us, and Damien’s power was ramping up. I had no idea why, but I could feel their anger. Their frustration. Fucking everything, and it was making me dizzy. My chest locked up. Even Adrien’s comforting embrace felt off.

  I needed space.

  I needed to breathe.

  When Damien tried to get between Colt and Finias, I could see he was close to something really dangerous from the orange glow of his eyes. He was going to shift. Nico helped Drayven up, offering Adrien a look I didn’t understand.

  Drayven was bleeding and looked fucking awful, honestly. I winced as he dislodged glass from his hand and tossed it to the side.

  “Stay here,” Adrien instructed and tried to intervene. Instead of feeling better, I felt worse—now they were all involved. I stumbled back against the doors I’d been trying to escape out of.

  All of a sudden, everything felt extremely overwhelming. All the new experiences I’d been having, my attraction to these men, the not-so-positive attention everyone was giving me—it was all making me feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. I had to get out of here.

  It was too much, too soon.

  “What the fuck do you mean you’ve kissed her?!” Drayven snarled at Finias, who flashed him a dangerous smile.

  “I mean I fucking kissed her,” Fin’s gaze was ice cold, and his tone was goading. “I’m not giving you another damn warning, Reaper. Next time you try to fight me, I will just slit your throat.”

  “Fucking hell,” Nico shook his head, “this is ridiculous. You guys know that, right? So what if Ama has kissed three—”

  “Three?” Colt snarled, “Who the fuck else?”

  Oh sweet devil.

  I couldn’t keep my gaze off Damien, though, who was so clearly struggling to keep control but feeding off the chaos around him. For such a sweet man, it was all too obvious that a dangerous creature lived beneath his skin. The blood-lust energy pouring off him was so intense, it was almost intoxicating. I felt drunk off it.

  “Adrien,” Drayven answered sharply.

  Colt’s gaze found mine, and something flashed through it that almost looked like jealousy. Nope. I wasn’t going there. Absolutely not.

  “Well, now, don’t leave out the part where you fucking lied to her for the past few years, Dray,” Finias said his nick name in a mocking tone. “When you told an impressionable teenage girl that her kiss almost killed you because you’re such a possessive bastard. Made her feel not only guilty but like a fucking outcast in her own home when no one wanted to go near her.”

  I might have been falling in love with Finias. I mean…the man just summarized shit so perfectly.

  This was so weird. All of this was so absolutely odd. I didn’t really feel like I was in the moment anymore, truthfully. I felt almost detached. As if I was watching this from outside my own body.

  “What the hell?” Nico demanded, looking actually angry.

  “He made her think she couldn’t kiss anyone without sucking their soul from their body,” Adrien’s face was completely void of emotion, and I had a feeling that Drayven wasn’t going to get out of this cleanly. I couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it though.

  Before I could try to say my piece, I was pinned up against the door, and a surprised noise came from my throat. How had I not noticed him moving towards me? Shit. The bonfire scent around me told me it was Damien, but when I looked up and found that his eyes were ringed with orange that moved like hellfire within his irises, I knew it wasn’t “normal” Damien. No, this was all his Hellhound.

  How did I know that? The man’s nose was now trailing over my throat as everything inside of me exploded with pleasure. A deep rumble was coming from his chest, and instead of sweet words coming from his mouth, his grip on my waist turned hard. The others were arguing, so I wasn’t positive they had noticed my current predicament. The one where I was being scented by an unfairly handsome Hellhound.

  “Damien,” Adrien’s voice was hard as he turned around, his eyes flaring with surprise. “Get away from her. You’re not yourself right now.”

  My Hellhound let out a snarl, and I was almost damn positive his tongue darted out against my neck as if he was tasting me, causing my knees to nearly give out. Holy hell. Bad, Ama. You should not find this attractive.

  “Damien,” Nico’s voice was smooth as he appeared next to us, his power rubbing up against mine as he seemed to try to lower the vicious power coming off the man in front of me. Instead, Damien just held me tighter and kept me caged while letting out a vicious growl.

  “Mine.”

  Come again? I frowned and looked at Nico, who was watching Damien in legitimate shock.

  “I need to get out of here.” My breathing was fast as I tried to push back against the door, but Damien’s grip simply tightened.

  Then, he was gone, and I watched as Colt and Damien clashed, both of them sliding right into one of the stone walls, which shook on impact. Why the hell wasn’t anyone stopping this? Instead, they were watching it like some sick show. My eyes met the House of Sin’s king’s gaze, and he offered me a sick smile, as if this was exactly what he wanted.

  This level of chaos. Did he have something to do with this?

  I snapped out of my daze. My magic flared, and I used enough force that the doors flew open. I had never moved faster in my life. I wasn’t proud to admit it, but I fucking ran. I ran away from that chaos. Those emotions. And those men.

  I could handle a lot, but everyone had their limits…and that had been mine.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ama

  Tears streaked down my face from the overwhelming emotions coursing through me as I fled from that damned ballroom. I didn't give a shit that I likely had black, make-up laden tears pouring down my face like a maniac. All I cared about was getting back to my quarters and being alone.

  Shame, guilt, and so much disappointment slammed through me as I navigated the corridors, hoping I had memorized the path correctly.

  I was a failure to my father. To our house.

  Tonight had been my night to prove that I was mature, had my shit together, and could work the political climate to our advantage. I hadn't just failed; I had embarrassed us. News of this incident would spread through the entire realm.

  My face burned as hot tears cascaded down my cheeks, and I choked out a sob, picturing my dad finding out about this. All of the princes of Hell fighting over me at a dignified political gathering, which had been my last chance at gaining votes for our house.

  I was a fucking disgrace. How many times had I told myself not to not let these princes and their devilishly handsome looks and sweet words get in the way of my goal here?

  "So stupid," I seethed at myself, lifting my long dress to stomp up the stairs towards my quarters.

  "Bad night, gorgeous?" a chilling voice asked, drawing my attention to a man at the top of the stairs.

  Normally, I'd appreciate the compliment, but the way he’d said it was like oil rolling off his tongue and coating me in a layer of sludge. It felt icky. That was the simplest way to put it.

  He was an Incubus. In addition to his alarmingly good looks, the power I felt grazing my own gave it away. Mine had surged up defensively as he prodded me for a way to affect me.

  Scrunching my nose up in confusion and slight disgust as he raked his hazel eyes over my body, I mumbled, "Excuse me," as I brushed by him, continuing towards my quarters.

  I figured I was in the clear as I rounded the corner and didn't hear any footsteps following me, despite no verbal response having been given. Still feeling on edge, I glanced behind me and tried to shake the feeling of unease when I saw no one there. I’d met a lot of creepy men in my life, but never one that had me feeling like there were bugs crawling under my skin.

  Kicking off my heels, I grabbed them in one hand and hurried down the
rest of the hallway, making a sharp right towards my door. Relief crashed through me as I opened the large black door and slammed it behind me, locking it and sliding down the wood until my ass hit the floor.

  My body was surging with adrenaline from my encounter with the Incubus, and the feeling of being in danger hadn’t completely disappeared. It didn’t help that, now that I was away from my guys—ugh, no, bad Ama, not my guys—I suddenly wasn’t confident that I’d handled this situation correctly.

  I shouldn’t be alone. I really shouldn’t be alone. That instinctual alarm was growing.

  Something within me was pulsating in my brain, telling me to go find the guys immediately. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I had already made enough of a mess tonight by not setting boundaries and by thinking I could somehow have multiple budding romances.

  My mom would probably be proud. Her daughter, who had shunned all things to do with her Succubus nature, getting involved with six men. A hollow laugh escaped me at the thought as disgust at my behavior slammed through me. What was wrong with me?

  I was turning into exactly what I hated. Why did I think it was fair of me to be kissing multiple men, when I knew damn well I'd flip my shit if they kissed other women?

  The mere thought had my blood boiling and fists clenching, ready to tear the throat out of anyone who tried to touch my men.

  Fuck. I had to stop thinking of them that way.

  Pushing myself from the floor, I left my heels at the door and walked barefoot into my bedroom. Glancing at the messy bed, I thought of how Drayven had held me like he couldn't bear to live without me last night.

  That damn man had me all kinds of twisted up emotionally and physically. Part of me yearned for the explosion of passion that had only just shown in our kiss. I knew it would be unbelievably intoxicating if I let it go further.

  The other half of me wanted to punch him in the throat every time he acted like he could tell me who I could and could not be around. Right after the fucker admitted that the biggest shame of my life, which had permanently impacted how I viewed myself, was a fucking lie.

  Rage coursed through me at the memory. I needed a bath to calm down. Some zen time. That was the clear answer to this. An uninterrupted bath this time. Away from all of them to clear my head and emotions without them breathing down my neck—or licking it, in Damien's case. A shiver ran through me at the memory as I reached back to undo the clasp at the top of my dress.

  As I struggled with it, I grumbled quietly, "Damnit, this was not a good time to make a stand for my independence. Can't even get myself out of this damn thing."

  “Here, let me help you,” a rough voice that I didn’t recognize whispered into my ear.

  What the hell?

  My blood chilled at the venom in his voice, and as I went to scream for help, a cloth was clamped over my mouth, muffling my attempt.

  His other arm clamped around my chest from behind, holding me in a vice-like grip as I struggled to get away. Kicking back with my feet, wishing I still had my heels on now to hurt him, I heard him let out a grunt. He increased the pressure on my mouth as he muttered, "Relax, bitch."

  I would not relax, bitch.

  Calling my scythe to me, ready to cut this fucker's head from his body, I whimpered as my brain began to feel foggy. My powers felt like they were just out of reach, on the other side of a wall.

  Fuck. Think, Ama.

  I was getting drowsier by the second, and my limbs began to feel impossibly heavy.

  Limbs! Wings!

  Focusing hard, I peeled off the glamour I had on my wings and snapped them out, hitting him square in the face. The tips were razor sharp, and I knew they nicked him because his grip on me loosened enough for me to jump away.

  His voice was rough as he growled, "If you won't go quietly, then the boss said it was okay to kill you. You just made your own death sentence, little girl."

  "Didn't anyone tell you? I'm Death's daughter," I seethed, rage funneling through me, burning out whatever chemical he’d used on me. His large frame was hunched, one hand cupping the wound on his cheek, which was steadily seeping blood that coated his fingers and dripped to the floor.

  Disgust flared in his eyes, and I snarled at him. I would not let this motherfucker take me out.

  Sucking in deep, steadying breaths, I allowed myself to act on instinct. I was still blocked from my scythe, and that left me with only one other option. While I hadn't used that side of me enough to quite understand how it worked, I knew I needed to trust that it was a part of me and would protect me.

  I couldn't immediately tell the species of this man, and that made this all the more dangerous. His eyes were shadowed by the black hair hanging over his eyes, which were typically the easiest way to figure out what house someone belonged to. I didn't know what to look out for attack wise in order to defend myself properly. I'd need to finish this quickly.

  A glimmer of silver flashed in his hand under the bedroom lights seconds before he lunged for me. Dropping into a crouch, I used my wings to launch myself into the air as his hand shot forward, knife ready to make me bleed.

  He growled in annoyance as I moved quickly, rolling forward in the air and dropping down behind him. Wrapping my hands around his throat, I let my Succubus powers roll off me in waves—the first time I had ever allowed myself to feel it coursing through me.

  It was a heady feeling—or maybe that was the chloroform he’d used.

  Just as he prepared to jab at me blindly with the knife, my power engulfed him. I saw the pink and red twining of my energy seeping into him the second the knife dropped from his fingers, and he went slack in my hands. I pushed more power into him, needing him to be completely immobile while I grabbed the knife from the ground.

  I wasn't quite sure how this worked, but I imbued my energy with the thought that I wanted him to picture what he desired the most for pleasure.

  He groaned and moved his hand to what I imagined was his crotch. I gagged at the thought but knew he was in a deep enough lustful trance now. Slowly removing my hands from him, I took a testing step to the side before quickly bending to grab the knife.

  The hilt was warm in my hand, and I contemplated what to do with the stranger now. My adrenaline was wearing off, and my body felt like I was possibly going into shock.

  An attempted kidnapping, turned failed assassination.

  The man was unzipping his black jeans and moved to fondle himself, in utter bliss. Gross. So freakin’ gross. His eyes were now clear to me. Purple. Like Finias' eyes, which I loved so much. This man was a Dark Elf. Looking more closely at his hair, I could now make out that it had been a rushed dye job. There were patches where the dye hadn't stuck as well to the typical white color of House of Runes.

  Knowing that the king and queen of the House of Runes abused Finias, along with the information from Adrien about them killing those who’d stood in their way of the throne, I wasn't even surprised.

  My mind began to whirl as pieces clicked into place. The way the guys had acted had been way more than a typical spat. It was as if they had been influenced subtly to act so barbarically. I had no doubt that the things they’d said were true, there had been too much conviction in their words for it to be otherwise, but would they have said them without influence? Would they have been so aggressive without influence? I didn’t think so. Combined with the Incubus who had been at the top of the stairs, as if looking out for me, and now a Dark Elf assassin, it was clear what was occurring.

  These Houses had to be working together to make moves. Huffing out loud, I mused, "Because of course they'd work together. They’re the only ones bloodthirsty enough to kill for the positions they hold now."

  I had been so engrossed with these revelations in my mind that I didn't notice the way the Dark Elf had subtly moved closer to me, still yanking on his hard dick, which I had purposefully kept my gaze from.

  I should have known that my powers would wear off at some point if I wasn't constantly using them on hi
m. Devil, I was such a disgrace of a hybrid, not knowing how to use both sides of my powers.

  When his large hand wrapped around my throat and he walked me back to the closest wall, slamming me into it, my throat produced a noise that sounded like a choked squeak toy. His hand was so tight around my windpipe that I couldn't breathe. His other hand grabbed my wrist and banged it against the wall painfully. I felt something snap and had no choice but to let the knife drop to the floor.

  I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't get his hand off my throat.

  A deep growl was the only warning either of us had before the Dark Elf was being torn off me and flung against the opposite wall of the room. His head met it with a sickening crunch, and he fell to the ground, crumpled and unmoving.

  Oh thank fuck…oh shit.

  In front of me stood a massive Hellhound with large paws covered in orange flames. He had short black hair that shockingly looked very sleek and soft. His large frame was full of muscle, which was now tense and coiled to strike again. I couldn't see his eyes, as he was facing towards the assassin, but I knew this was Damien's Hellhound.

  The Hellhound that everyone had been openly petrified of in conversation, judging from their words and the looks on their faces whenever he came up.

  "Damien," I tried to say, but my windpipe felt bruised from the crushing grip that had been holding it moments ago. There would be bruises for sure.

  The Dark Elf roused from his temporary unconsciousness, and that was all it took for Damien to lunge for the man's throat. A scream of pain began, then I heard a crunch and the scream was silenced as Damien's head whipped side to side twice, ripping the man's throat.

  Out of his body and onto my floor.

  The Dark Elf's eyes had focused on me in his moment of death, and a chill ran through me at the lifeless gaze now.

  Blood dripped from Damien's elongated teeth as his lip curled back, and he growled once more at the assassin before turning to look at me fully. His orange eyes burned brightly, dancing with the hellfire within them. Before my eyes, he turned from a vicious beast into a practical lap dog as he padded over to me, sitting in front of me and whining as he looked up at me.