by Rhea Watson
“But we want to, elskling,” Bjorn insisted, the Norse pet name rolling off his tongue so fluidly, so affectionately, that it made Alecto flush. “Because you’re our girl… It hurts us to see you hurt.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks with the next blink, and Alecto brushed them away, sniffling. “I know.” Her darting glance between us felt so natural. “I get it.”
Not only had I never shared a piece of my heart with another man, let alone two bastards, but this was the closest I had ever come to telling a woman I loved her. All these years, I’d thought it would terrify me. Thought my ruminating mind wouldn’t allow me to come to terms with it—wouldn’t shut the fuck up for more than two seconds so I could embrace the free fall and just be.
But I wasn’t afraid anymore.
Not about falling in love, anyway. Alecto made it easy. Watching others feel as deeply as I did chased away the fear. Set it on fire and scattered its ashes to the wind.
For once, I needn’t think.
Just feel.
And loving her made me feel… free.
Not a chance in all seven hells would I risk that.
“Look, you’re both exhausted,” I reasoned. As soon as Bjorn huffed the beginnings of a protest, I held up a hand to quiet him. Sure, his vampiric stamina beat the rest of us ten times over, but I needed him to concede for Alecto’s sake. Knowing her bratty heart, she wouldn’t sit idle while the men did the heavy lifting. Clearing his throat, the vampire settled back into the kitchenette counter, silent. Good. “I have a legal team at my disposal—best in the country, perhaps even the continent. They’re sworn to my coven and my father. After some sleep and some food, we will locate Gavriel with all the resources they have at their disposal.”
“But—”
“This is an academy crime,” I pressed on with a warning squeeze to Alecto’s knee, “and there is a high council facility in Trentmore.” The supernatural village was a good three hours south by car and had a holding facility for those awaiting their formal trial in London. After all, we weren’t the only academy on this island, nor were we the first to run into problems—though perhaps the first of this magnitude. A demon invasion. Honestly. “It’s a courthouse where he will likely have a cursory hearing before they transport him to London. My team will put a petition together to stop that.”
“Jack—”
“Tomorrow we will broach them with Gavriel’s case.”
“Aren’t they working your case?”
“We’re ready,” I told Bjorn with a dismissive wave, my fight the lesser of two evils at the moment. “It’s the same principle—almost. Shouldn’t be too much to whip up something for a stay of execution, as it were, for Gavriel.”
Speaking of which…
I stood and stalked around the pullout, then swiped my mobile phone off the armrest. Some warlocks and witches rejected human tech, but, really, it was much faster than handwritten letters. Given we had yet to craft magic-based long-distance communication, a simple telephone call got the job done just fine.
“I’ll have them start things right away—get the whole team up here in a few hours,” I muttered, swiping my thumb across the screen and tapping in my passcode. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Alecto watching me with crossed arms.
“What if they’ve just dragged him out to the moors and put a hex between his eyes?”
“I think Gavriel’s proven he’s tougher to kill than that,” Bjorn told her gently. Really, though—Gavriel of the Ash Court was a stubborn prat who wouldn’t go down easy. If anything, he would set the entire highlands ablaze with all that dangerous fae magic before he let one of us lowly warlocks kill him.
“Okay, I get what you’re both saying,” Alecto said as she scrambled up on wobbly little fawn legs, “but every minute we waste is—”
“Enough, little one,” I growled, adopting a tone that made lesser submissives run for the hills. Alecto merely faced me with folded arms and a cocked hip, then scoffed when I forced her back onto the bed, a hand on her shoulder, her knees buckling from the lightest touch. Her dedication, loyalty, and determination were traits I admired about her—but enough. She had lost this battle. Best save all that fight for the actual war ahead. Phone clutched in a loose fist, I ducked in front of her, our gazes clashing, and arched an eyebrow. “Enough. It’s done.”
My aftercare timbre only made her bristle further, but I counted her hollowed cheeks and sniff as she turned her head away a victory. Across the suite, Bjorn merely chuckled, almost like he was impressed with the dynamic.
“You need food, a hot shower, and a lot of sleep,” I reasoned, once again stating the obvious, and looked to Bjorn for backup. “Am I wrong?”
The vampire shook his head. “Not even a little.”
He then raised his hands in surrender when our little witch pinned her ire on him, that glare only making his smirk wider.
“Well then, it’s settled. Two against one.” I motioned to the front door with my mobile. “Bjorn, see if the kitchen is still open in the pub. If they won’t reopen it, there’s a twenty-four-hour shop round the corner.”
As with our communication at the academy, he didn’t need me to spell it out for him. Find her food. That was the first objective tonight, and given how he hopped to, the vampire was on it. Excellent. Right. Just one of the benefits of having more than one man in her life, apparently: caring for her well-being didn’t fall completely on my shoulders. As a team, Bjorn and I could tend to Alecto swiftly and efficiently, whether she liked it or not.
Once the door shut behind him, however, all her wrath crashed back to me.
“You don’t get to order me around,” she groused, poking a sharp toe at my shin, petulant and beautiful in her sulk. “Right now, you’re not my boss and you’re not my Dom—”
“I’m always your Dom,” I said distractedly as I typed Donovan’s name into the search bar on the mobile’s contact app. Once located, I tapped his profile, then locked the screen and crouched before her, full attention where it belonged. Gods, Iris had really done a number on her face—never mind the myriad of bruises scattered across her torso. Swallowing thickly, I pinched her chin, delicate and tender as I nudged her face side to side for a more thorough inspection. Offensive magic pounded through me, destructive and wanton, desperate to unleash on the bastards who had hurt her so. “I’ll fucking kill them.”
Heavy eyes closed, Alecto smoothed both hands up my forearm, then locked them tight around my wrist. “Get in line, I guess.” When those lids fluttered open again, they did so with noticeable difficulty, the weight of everything finally taking its toll. “I… I could use a nap, and maybe a shower.” She shoved a finger in my face when I smirked. “But first thing in the morning we—”
“Ah, there she is,” I drawled, snatching that finger so I could kiss its tip while she scowled. “A creature of reason. Come on.” This time she stayed upright, sea legs temporarily restored, my hand hovering at her lower back. “Shower first.”
“Jack—”
“Let me take care of you tonight, little one,” I urged, guiding her under my arm, safe and sound, protected from the world and all its horrors. “Please? Or I’ll never sleep again…”
Alecto huffed as her arms wound around my midsection. “Way to guilt-trip, Sir.”
“Way to pitch a bratty fit in front of company.”
“Way to—”
“Hush.” I clamped a hand over her giggling mouth, trying and failing to hold back an affectionate grin of my own. “Save the fight for tomorrow, you fury of righteous justice.” And as she melted against me, I steered us toward the tiny toilet in the suite’s back corner, determined to pamper her gently and thoroughly, to embrace this moment of calm before the storm. “Tomorrow, I promise you, we’ll raise absolute hell…”
23
Gavriel
Thwack.
Thwack.
What—
Thwack.
I came to groggy and hungover as fuck, racked wi
th full-body aches—
Thwack.
But my forehead hurt the most. Somehow. Given the concrete beneath my achy body, I had been passed out for… hours. Best guess. Certainly not days, or it would hurt a lot more. This wasn’t the first time I’d woken feeling like absolute shit and drooling on the floor. The army hadn’t exactly been known for comfortable campaign beds. Clearly Root Rot had spoiled me—
Thwack-thwack.
I grunted and tried to swat at whatever kept smacking me in the forehead, but my arm still hadn’t woken up yet, all tingly and buzzy.
“Good, you’re alive,” a velvety voice rumbled. “I thought they’d overdosed you.”
My eyes snapped open to a windowless concrete box. My shoulder screamed at having shouldered—heh—the weight of my body all this time, sprawled awkwardly on my side, while my hips were facedown on the ground, promising a world of hurt for my lower back. Even with my head full of sand and muck, I could see just fine in the dark.
And I wasn’t alone in this cell.
Nor did I wake to a stranger.
I’d only met him the one time, but Lucifer, Lord of Hell, wasn’t someone you forgot. Seated across the, oh, shot-in-the-dark guess, six-by-six space, he was as effortlessly beautiful now as he was back then: same golden curls, same sharp smile. Eyes like the inferno, all fire and malice and danger. Sharp angles and hard lines, almost brutally handsome, the loveliest of the angels. Like many fae, he wasn’t stocky or overtly muscular, but rather long and lean, subtle and unassuming, unparalleled strength hidden beneath that tailored three-piece suit. Deep green this time, like sage at its prime, with silver buttons and a little trio of golden bees pinned to his jacket pocket.
Curious creature, the Morningstar.
Cruel, too: a beat later, he plucked a pebble from the ground and flicked it at me, nailing me right between the eyes.
“Ow.” Another stab of pain, mellowing shortly to a dull throb like the rest.
“Quite the pickle you’re in, Gavriel.”
“This can’t be real.” Eyes clenched tight, I shifted just enough to press my forehead to the floor, greedily soaking up the stone’s tepid touch. “Am I—”
“High?” Lucifer chuckled coolly, the sound prickling up my spine—dread. The Devil’s laughter wrought sheer, utter dread, even to a bastard like me. “No, though you were given a rather ridiculous amount of wolfsbane to knock you out.”
That explained it. My groan came out a strangled, frustrated bellow, and I flopped onto my back with an embarrassing amount of effort, my limbs still fucking uncooperative.
“Yeah, no one here knows how to properly drug a fae.” Especially one with my obscene tolerance. After a bit of struggling, I slapped a hand to my eye, fingers just coordinated enough to scratch away the crusty sleep. Some vague, fuzzy memory trudged across my mind’s eye: the library, iron cuffs, Bjorn fleeing with Alecto.
Being escorted out—then stabbed in the neck with a fucking syringe.
Smart. Fae bounced back faster from the magic of this realm. We were just built better. Wolfsbane, meanwhile, lingered in the bloodstream for ages; many abused the plant that killed wolf shifters, myself included—but never to this extent.
Stupid fucking tiny dick warlock pricks with—
Another long, dramatic groan. More of Lucifer’s patronizing chuckles.
It took a humiliating amount of time and effort to get upright, eventually slumped against the wall opposite the Devil. While his long limbs looked elegant, one knee bent, an arm resting casually over it, the other leg stretched out toward me, my arms and legs flopped everywhere. Feet pigeon-toed. Arms limp at my sides, palms up. Even blinking took work, the rise and fall of my heavy lids so fucking tedious.
Stars above, this had to be my worst post-high comedown ever.
“You’re not a figment of my…” Fuck, what was the word? I frowned as Lucifer’s golden brows arched, then snapped when the saying came back to me. Oh, good. Fingers working better. “A figment of my imagination, are you?”
The king of fallen angels gestured to himself with a lazy flick of his wrist. Behold me, in all my glory. “No. Not today.”
“Right.” With my faculties returning, I rubbed at my other eye without stabbing the eyeball this time. “So, not to be rude—but what the fuck are you doing here?”
I knew why I was here.
Accused of the demon invasion, blah, blah, blah.
But surely he had better places to be, in this realm and the next.
“Checking on one of my darling deals, of course.” His seductive mouth curled into a smirk. “I don’t get anything if you die in a hole.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, yes, quite right. How noble of you.”
His grin terrified me. Cocky as a fae, beautiful as an angel, Hell’s tyrant was as horrifying as he was lovely, and I might shit-talk his crusade against the Silver City far, far from his ears, but up close and personal, he had always been and always would be a deeply unsettling creature.
Above all else, a monster I knew not to push my luck with.
And yet…
“Did you sanction a demon raid on the academy?”
His snort sounded more like a snarl, and I would have taken it as such if not for the wicked delight glittering in the inferno. “No, but clearly those pups aren’t ready to be let off leash yet. They are…” He paused, gaze suddenly hard as slate. “They are being dealt with, as are those who approved them for possession.” In another blink, the murderous glint vanished, light and airy once more. “Like I need that kind of publicity, eh?”
“They say I did it,” I stated, sighing when his expression twitched into a Duh.
“Naturally.” There was that grin again, ethereal and macabre. “That Hammond warlock stole your letter—proof of your link to Darkwell.”
I stared back at him, waiting for the just kidding of it all to explode around my cell. Nothing. “Er, what?”
“The one from the admissions office,” Lucifer drawled. He then sniffed and picked at his nails, the lot black and sharpened to deadly talons. Last time they were red—bloodstained, in fact. “My people have passive-aggressive down to a science, don’t they?” The inferno zeroed in on me, our eyes suddenly locked, and I couldn’t peel away no matter how hard I tried. Couldn’t blink, eyes watering. Couldn’t… think. “I had an oracle look into it before I arrived. Made her sift through time and space like such a good little girl. You and the warlock collided in the castle sometime last year and he—” Lucifer made an om-nom-nom gesture with his hand, like Pacman gobbling up dots. “—picked your pocket, quite adeptly at that. Been holding on to it ever since. Funny creature, isn’t he?”
Funny wasn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe Benedict Hammond. When he finally permitted me to tear my gaze away, I blinked back the dry-eye tears and snarled. Of course the fucker had a hand in my current… situation. Rage sizzled across my skin, gathering at the nape of my neck, the windowless cell suddenly much too hot and dreadfully claustrophobic.
Had to eliminate his competition—pick off Alecto’s lovers until she had nothing and no one. No protection. No support. Totally alone.
How boring.
“I’d take him on if he wasn’t so obvious,” the Devil remarked lightly, reveling in my anger—practically sunbathing in it. “But it’d be like hiring Cthulu for covert ops, honestly.”
“So, you know about him?” Hell was only for human souls, but after the scars he had left on Alecto’s family tree, the fucker deserved a few centuries of flogging in the pits. “About what he’s done?”
“I think you should always assume I know everything.”
“Is that what you tell the creatures of this realm?” I fired back without thinking, instantly regretting it when his eyes narrowed and that handsome mouth twitched into a sneer.
“Gavriel, Gavriel, Gavriel…” He sang my name like a poisonous lullaby, and I held up both hands, contrite, head bowed.
“Sorry.” I then pinched the bri
dge of my nose like that might ward off the sudden and rather savage pounding behind my eyes. “Just hungover.”
“Excused,” Lucifer said dismissively, “this time.” He then brought up his other knee and folded forward between them, his new posture making him look like a nightmarish bullfrog. “I’ve actually come to speak on behalf of your defense.”
Oh.
That—was unexpected. I hesitated, brain still chugging along ten speeds too slow. “Why?”
“Can hardly have my good name besmirched.” He straightened again, beast of the pit no longer, fangs tucked behind an unassuming pair of lips, just a handsome man in an expensive suit as he stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “I never ordered you to do this, nor do I need Darkwell associated—”
“Do you know who did it, then?”
I stiffened and braced for impact: never interrupt the Devil.
But Lucifer merely snorted and stared back at me, unblinking, like I was this realm’s biggest idiot. “Two of you cast the ward, boy,” he cooed, addressing me like he would a toddler. “If not you, then…?”
“H-Hammond?”
“As I said—” He dusted his knuckles along his sleeve. “—like using a sledgehammer to sculpt glass.”
Fuuuuuuuuuuucking Hammond. A professor had died. Students scarred for life. And all for what? To manipulate and twist reality to match his own warped fantasy?
I mean.
Probably.
“Now, before we move forward…” Lucifer steepled his fingers and pressed them to his mouth for a moment, as if considering me in greater detail. “Do you still wish to maintain the terms of our deal?”
My gut bottomed out. “You… You’re willing to alter it?”
“Well, not for anyone who owes me a soul,” he insisted brightly, “but for you, fae… I sense your priorities have, well, shifted somewhat.”
A vision of Alecto and her slashed face triggered a pang of longing I’d never experienced before, one so deep it nearly choked a sob from me. “I-I want out.”
Eyebrows up, the Devil shook his head, his grin a little too sly for my liking. “Out of the deal entirely? Gavriel, son…” He tapped our toes together with his right foot, his red-soled leather in sharp contrast to my socks. Wait. I blinked down at the wool. Where the fuck were my shoes? “That’s not how it works.”