by A. K. Koonce
My palm lifts, and I take his trembling hand in mine. He stares at our hands interlocked for a long moment, before a heavy breath pushes from his lungs, and he shakes the serious look away.
He covers it with a wide, fake smile that hurts my heart to look at.
“Why didn’t he kill you, Krave?” It’s my turn to brush my fingers beneath the metal piercing at the center of his lower lip. It shines beneath the golden light as his eyes dim with a memory I don’t know if I want to hear or not.
“Because I said your sweet name right back to him. I said it over and over and over again. My mind was obsessed with the sound of your name. And then my magic was, too. Clouds of smoke drew every angle of your alluring features. The bow of your lip. The curve of your delicate neck. The warmth of your smile. It glittered around us, and I locked eyes with a woman I’d never met before. Someone my heart knew even if my mind never did. I remember thinking—” he swallows hard, shifting his attention away from me to the other dancers swirling around us. He pauses on my father standing at the back of the room, and the incubus’s smile softens with genuine amusement. “I remember thinking, this intoxicatingly beautiful woman is going to get me killed someday.”
My heart dips without a solid beat to support it.
My father knew Krave was my mate. He knew that he loved me. And he used that love against us.
Krave bound himself to a man who hated him, just to be near me. Soon, I hated the demon, too, for it. It never made him change his feelings about me, though. He never once stopped wanting me.
My arms cling tighter around his lithe frame, so tight he stops swaying through the crowd. We stand there, my face tucked into the crook of his neck as he just holds me. Gentle music carries on without us. Laughter and whispers surround us. None of it breaks through to the two of us. He simply holds me, and I hope he never ever lets me go.
“I love you, Krave.” My voice cuts out with an uneven breath against his skin.
Long fingers slide beneath my chin until I’m looking up at the lost look in his eyes. His attention sweeps over the rawness of my features, the raggedness of the breaths parting my lips.
“And I have loved you since the moment I locked eyes with the smoky shadows of my own magic. It seems that, sometimes, the shadows love us back.”
Sometimes the shadows love us back.
My heart breaks for him and pounds for him all at the same time. There’s darkness between us. It’ll always be there. We can’t change that. But I love him more because of that darkness.
My heels angle forward, and I lift against him until my mouth almost brushes his. A sweet smile is against his lips as his head dips down to meet me halfway.
Then a booming voice cuts through the veil we’ve created around us.
“Friends, friends,” my father calls out to his loyal subjects.
Krave pulls back from me just slightly, his eyes closing slowly.
Dear old daddy is still pushing us apart, it seems.
My head falls with my forehead resting against Krave’s pressed black button-down. Can this night just be over? Can we be done? What else is there to show off to these people that he hasn’t already shown off before?
“Have I forgotten to tell you about the main event?” My father asks, his voice carrying through the room of excited murmurs. I glance over to him, and his long silver hair shifts around him as he looks out at his people. Oddly, his gaze settles on me. “Tonight, we’ll be having a battle. Right here. Among us. We will smell the sweat and taste the blood as if the fight is our own.”
What. The. Fuck.
My attention snaps to Damien and Zaviar, but they’re both safely standing behind the royal table on the platform, far enough from my father that they seem out of his reach but not far enough away that they seem protected.
My feet are stumbling over themselves as I push through the dumbstruck people staring at my demented father. I make it up the high standing royal platform and to the table with my heels wobbling beneath me, but I don’t give a damn about composure. Even as my father’s heavy gaze follows me every step of the way. In seconds, I’m at my throne, standing behind the tall chair, just in front of two innocent men. I shield them with my small frame as much as I can, but I know my father’s mind is on them and them alone.
My attention cuts to a single, ancient weapon that glitters with opal stones along the hilt. I think it’s more for decor. They call it the crowning sword, and it’s only ever used for ceremonies to announce a new ruler.
But I’d still use it if I had to.
“I’ve recently acquired a very skilled warrior. In the nasty Torch, his own people, they call him the Demon Monster.” A chuckle shakes through my father’s wide chest as if he’s just said the funniest fucking thing. His people laugh with him.
I do note that Johnn does not smile. Not once.
Interesting.
“Demon Monster is thirsty for a fight, and what do you say? Shall we give him one?” Cheers and applause trail after my father’s question.
Fuck.
I’m still shaking my head at how completely ridiculous this all is when a man—nay—a fucking walking mountain strides in. He turns himself sideways to slide through the doorway without harming his flaking gray wings. They hang over his back like worn stone preparing to bury him where he stands. A deep scar cuts through his lip and cheek, revealing black teeth at the back of his jaw. I wince at that sight alone, but that isn’t the worst of it. The big fists that hang at his sides have claws where his fingers should be. Thick gray claws hang just slightly too low on his big arms. The echo of his heavy footfalls storms the room, and the once-happy partygoers, the ones who cheered for this Demon Monster to make his appearance, are now scattered back as close to the wall as they can get.
“Demon Monster,” my father says with more affection than I ever remember hearing in his tone.
The demon’s tattered lip curls back, and he grunts in response.
Charming.
“Would anyone’s demon care to entertain us with a fight to the death?” The King’s attention sweeps the crowd slowly, but I know he’s coming my way.
I know what he wants.
And he can’t fucking have either one of them. My shoulders square as my chin lifts obnoxiously high. I’ll just tell him. I’ll tell my father to fuck right the fuck off. I will.
His scanning gaze stops abruptly at the center of the crowd.
On Krave.
My knotted stomach tumbles even lower as my breath lodges in my throat.
The King’s smile widens with what appears to be affection as he looks at my mate. His lips part, and I just know he’s about to volunteer him.
He doesn’t own Krave anymore. He’s mine to have and to hold. But an order from the King is still an order.
“I’d love the honor, my King,” someone else says before Krave’s name is uttered from my father’s lips.
Murmurs crawl up from the fear that’s thick in the air, and as I search over the elegant gowns and the fine suits, I can’t see who took the challenge against Demon Monster.
Who has the demon balls to fight someone who looks like someone the boogie man lost his virginity to and has been infatuated with ever since?
Ryke steps forward.
“No,” I whisper like a plea.
All eyes are glued to the large demon. The runes scarring his chest are so deep, the skin is twisted in some places. Big black wings are held tight against his broad shoulders. Jagged iron cuts through his skin along each forearm, and I know he’s strong. He’s powerful and relentless.
If he loses, it won’t be without a fight. And if he wins, he’ll be the monster he always knew these people would turn him into.
Pen’s lips are parted, and her eyes are like saucers as she watches her demon.
Dampness clings to my lashes when I blink hard and fast. He’s watching me, holding his attention on me intently as he makes his way to the center of the ballroom.
Demon Monste
r eye-fucks Ryke like he’s going to literally fuck him. And not in the good way.
He isn’t mine. He isn’t mine. He isn’t mine.
I chant over and over and over again.
It’s the truth.
But then, why does my heart feel like it’s wide open and waiting to be cut to pieces?
Pen steps to the edge of the crowd, and her big eyes shine. Just like mine.
She’s young. Young and about to have her heart shattered.
Just like mine.
“Stop!” My lips snap together fast but not fast enough to refrain from screaming that one little word out.
Johnn’s attention shoots to me from where he stands just near the table. His eyebrows lift and he, like everyone else, waits for me to say more.
“Father,” I have to be careful. He’ll send me away to another realm entirely if I say the wrong thing. And then who will protect my men? “this room is much too small for a battle, don’t you think?”
That’s the best you have? Catherine huffs from the back of my mind.
“Shut up,” I say under my breath, gaining me another interested look from Johnn.
“Nonsense. It’s the perfect size, my dear,” the King says with another smile.
“The room’s too small!” I say once more with conviction and irritation lacing my words.
Stop fucking raising your brow at me, Johnn. Worry about your own fucking problems. Like who will rule this kingdom if I kill the King and run away to the demon realm to live happily ever after.
“Aries,” my father warns.
“The room’s just fine, Crow,” Ryke says with a cocky smile.
Gods, why is he so damn cocky? Why? Why can’t for once he just back away and say, “You know, this is too much. Maybe Demon Monster, Boogie Man Fucker is a bit too much for me.”
Demon Monster prowls toward Ryke, and when they face off at the center of the white tile floor, it’s apparent just how terrifyingly large Demon Monster is. From the tips of his taloned wings to the toes of his dirty boots, he’s three times the size of Ryke.
“Fu—ccckkk,” Zaviar whispers from behind me.
And I couldn’t agree more.
“Gentlemen,” my father says with big greedy eyes eating them up, “On my signal, you’ll begin. The only rule is, only one monster will win. The other will die the most dishonorable of deaths. The loser will have disappointed not only me, but all the realms.” My jaw clenches just as my nails bite into my palms so hard, I feel warm blood lick at my fingertips.
My father’s hand lifts and falls with dramatic finality.
Demon Monster launches himself forward without hesitation. His ashen claws grip Ryke’s biceps, and he slams him to the ground so hard that it rattles the crystals of the chandeliers above. It rattles my heart. Instead of pummeling him over and over and over again, the demon lets his claws sink with severity into the muscle of Ryke’s arms.
A cry of agony tears from Ryke’s throat and echoes around the room like a haunting melody. Wetness slides down my cheeks, but my jaws are locked tightly together without sound.
Ryke has little room to move beneath the enormous man. He thrusts his fist into Monster Demon’s solid abdomen again and again but there just isn’t space for impact.
It’s a quiet struggle that’s so silent, I can hear my own jagged breaths. It could end in seconds. Ryke’s heart could slow before stopping suddenly.
The empty sound settles in.
And that’s when he twists his wrist between them, and brings down his iron blade along his forearms, tearing through the demon’s flesh with a deep gashing slice. Blood splatters over both of them. It coats the shining tiles.
Cheers and encouragement call through the room then. It’s a riot of noise that demands my heart race faster as I watch with wide eyes.
A roar of anger and pain shakes through the room from Demon Monster’s blackened mouth. Ryke lifts his foot and kicks the beast off of him, buying him space and time. He stands while the other demon continues to breathe through the agony of the deep wound across his colossal chest.
Ryke’s boot comes up and thrusts down on the demon, planting him beneath his foot. “The harder they fall,” Ryke whispers as he stares down at him.
It really does seem like it’ll end fast and easy.
As Ryke’s mossy green eyes glare down at the bloody man. And my sweet demon’s features start to melt. His body twists and molds into a thin, curving figure that I don’t understand. Scales ripple over his flesh. His eyes narrow into emerald slits. A slithering tongue hisses out from his mouth.
Ryke morphed into a snake . . . while also keeping the two-legged shape of a man.
Demon Monster shoves back against the slick flooring, putting space between him and the creature Ryke’s magic has deemed the thing most feared.
Even if Demon Monster is the only one who recognizes that fear.
“Reptrilen,” the demon says on a shuddering whisper.
Does Ryke even know who Reptrillen is? I have no idea how his magic works. But it’s terrifying. The things of nightmares.
Ryke tilts his scaly head slowly to the side. In the blink of an eye, the snake lashes out. And his fangs sink deeply into the demon’s throat.
It’s a quick strike. A fatal one.
When Ryke pulls back, his jawbone returns, his beard rapidly grows dark over the thin scars lining his features. And then, he’s entirely himself again.
But he continues to keep his attention fixed hard on the man who now lies poisoned and bleeding out at his feet.
Demon Monster’s big body shakes just slightly. It’s an odd sight. I don’t understand it. Until . . . laughter slips from his tattered lips.
“You fool,” the demon says on an accented growl of words. “You know what I am?” His head tips back, and he lies there as if he’s preparing for a nap. “Bet you never been to the Torch or the Ash Empire.” The demon settles Ryke with a look of cruelty. His lip curls even more. “Our Ash is a poison, you stupid fuck.” He lifts his clawed gray hand, and it clicks for me at the same time as it clicks for Ryke.
Ryke’s knees wobble beneath him, and he stumbles back. Gray bruises cover his upper arms around the dark claw marks branding his skin.
“No,” I whisper once more, but there’s no breath in my lungs to carry the sentiment.
Veins turn gray beneath the surface of Ryke’s scarred skin. They shatter up his arms, across his throat and kiss along his lips. Still he stands tall, wavering just slightly as he faces his opponent head on.
Demon Monster shakes his head at him as he shoves to his feet and slowly circles Ryke. It’s a drawn-out taunting as though he’s waiting for the man to just drop dead where he stands.
But that’s not Ryke’s style.
He storms forward with deadly intent. With only a few feet separating them, his wings lash out from his back, and he swoops down on the demon from a high striking point. His elbow crashes hard against a cracking nose, and the slice of flesh follows the blow as his blade cuts across the demon’s cheek, spraying blood from the wound onto the fine gowns of women standing too close.
His fist slaps over the wet blood on the man’s face, and they both go tumbling down in a heap of violence and anger. Demon Monster flips them the moment they hit the floor, and his blood showers down on Ryke as they fumble against one another with lashing claws and striking blades. Gray nails sink into Ryke’s throat. He growls a gargling sound and never slows his slamming fists against the man. Claws sink in. One at a time. Slow. Torturously slow. A smile carves across the monster’s mouth.
He truly is a monster.
Air chokes along Ryke’s lips. They turn blue among the gray. He looks ashen and dying. It’s a nightmare I can’t look away from.
Ryke’s lips part wider for a breath that he can’t have. His eyes grow big. Life fades from his eyes little by little.
He’s so strong, he continues to fight even as his motions slow. He kicks. Punches. Everything he can do, he does.<
br />
It’s just not enough.
And I know he knows it.
His jaw clamps shut, grinding hard with determination. He thrusts his arm straight up between them until his own fist is held near his throat. Then he slams his forearm into the demon’s chest. A crack like bone snapping in two sounds through the room. Blood sprays down Ryke’s arm around his black blade. He’s shoved it in deep, and I can see the surprise on Demon Monster’s face. That iron-like mouth opens with only a rattling gasp. That look only intensifies as Ryke brings his blade down hard, gutting the man from sternum to navel.
A breath cuts from the demon’s lips. And then he falls into Ryke with the full weight of his corpse.
Crimson covers Ryke like a blanket. His wet hands shove at the monster until his body thumps against the floor at his side.
My feet are moving before my mind even processes it all. My red dress darkens at the hem as I slide over the mess covering the floor. I don’t even think about it as I drop to my knees at his side.
His lips tremble when his gaze finds me.
He’s so broken and victorious as he smiles at me.
“Told you the room was big enough, baby,” he says on the weakest tone I’ve ever heard from him. My fingers tangle through the slickness of his own, and I can’t think or speak as gray lines crawl across his face.
“Help,” I whisper before finding my voice on a shaking scream. “He—he needs help.”
I look up to find fae in beautiful gowns and shining diamonds surrounding us from a safe distance. None of them with their many differing powers step forward to help us. I pause when I see Pen slumped on the floor with quiet tears streaming down her face. A few people meet my eyes, but most of them look at absolutely anything else. Krave watches Ryke with big black eyes, but there’s nothing he can do.
Nothing.
No one will help him.
Steady hands reach out to me. I peer back to find someone I barely know knelt down in the blood at my side. Kind brown eyes meet mine.
“Excuse me,” Johnn whispers with a small smile.
He—he wants to help . . .
I push back from Ryke, sliding against the floor to give the fae some room. Johnn’s fingers skim over Ryke’s neck, and it’s an eerie sight not to react to.