“Even Gray knows it was wrong.”
Yeah. Sure.
I watched in silence, even though Cy wanted me to intervene. The demons weren’t harming each other much though. I wasn’t even sure they could, not as cuts stitched back together before my eyes, as split lips, broken bones, and swollen bruises healed within seconds.
“Gray dismissed Rowan the other night,” Cy said tentatively, not knowing I already knew.
“Mmm,” I agreed, hearing the low snap of Grayson’s shoulder popping out of its socket as Rowan yanked his arm behind his back. “I decided to make him a Sentinel last night.”
Everything got so quiet, I could hear the wall clock ticking.
Cy and Grayson looked at me, eyes huge, mouths open. Rowan didn’t let Grayson up from the hold he had on his arm behind his back, but his eyes met mine. There was white gold shining around his pupils and satisfaction in the air, but his expression was unreadable.
“Scion,” Grayson said, attempting a bow even though Rowan had his arm. “The Warrior must have tricked you into agreeing to make him Sentinel. You can’t—”
Rowan pulled, the grinding bone cut off Grayson’s words and made my stomach turn.
You can let him go, I telepathed to Rowan, who paused for a few moments before doing as I asked. As if Rowan was no longer a threat, Grayson kept his back to the Hammer demon, and stared directly at me, his face drawn.
Popping his shoulder back in place with one effortless yank, Grayson took two steps toward me.
Rowan jumped, and was standing in front of me before the Tempter made another move, blocking my view with his broad shoulders.
“You don’t even know what a Sentinel is, Scion,” Grayson said, his tone desperate. “You must…please permit me to explain.”
I put a hand flat against Rowan’s back, and peaked out from behind him. “Rowan would have explained.”
“If so, you would already know.”
Rowan leaned back against my hand, and I could feel his heart beating through his navy blue not-cashmere sweater spattered with rust-colored blood.
“I was exhausted last night.” I tried to explain. “He was going to tell me today.”
“You cannot be so confident,” the Tempter stated, his eyes cast down and away from me. But he was having a hard time with it. He couldn’t seem to help telling me what to do.
I poked Rowan’s back. “Were you gonna tell me?”
He nodded.
“Good enough for me,” my confidence secure.
It was possible everything Rowan had done, everything I felt for him had been a clever ploy to get into this Sentinel position, which apparently was a big deal by Grayson’s nervous expression. If I wanted to believe what Dmitri had said, that all demons were only concerned with protecting their own interests, I could see how every subtle quirk of his mouth, the moment in my bedroom after visiting Faction, the story about Rosie could have been lies.
Was there a logical, tangible reason I should believe Rowan was a good male with good intentions? Yes. The palpable waves of warmth he didn’t know I could feel, and those white gold specks in his eyes that appeared only when he looked at or defended me. All of my instincts, human and demon alike trusted him.
There was something I understood, even though I didn’t know where it came from. Maybe it was being given the freedom to roam around Division unchecked. If I wanted respect and loyalty from someone, I had to give it in equal amounts. Before my glamour was lifted and I became who I really was, I never believed in faith of any kind. Didn’t have the soul to understand what faith meant.
I would have faith in Rowan.
“A Sentinel is your official guard, but has the ability to defy Royal orders if he does not think they are in your best interest. The Warrior will not have to obey you. Or Iliana.”
He said it like it was a bad thing. But it sounded fantastic to me.
“That’s it? That’s what has you two spooked?”
Cyrus stepped closer to me, but still kept a distance. Rowan didn’t act like Cy was dangerous.
Cy whispered, even though the other demons could hear him, “if he is working for Faction…or Division…or for his own agenda, he could use the rank of Sentinel to harm you.”
I turned to the floppy haired Hammer. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
For a second, I thought Cy was going to apologize, but instead he said, “We do not know his motives for remaining. Gray had to threaten him to get him here in the first place.”
“I’m invested now,” Rowan said, not turning away from Grayson to reply to Cy’s accusation. “You called me in because you expected me to do the job and not to care. But I do.”
“The Royal will not be pleased,” the Tempter whined.
Will Iliana do anything to harm you or Tanis if we do this?
Grayson hesitated. His breathing became short, his silvery diamond eyes sparkled unrestrained. But in the end, if that indecision had been him considering lying to me, he decided not to.
The moment he conceded, I announced, “My decision stands.”
“For your lifetime,” Cyrus said, still whispering, “you can only Blood one Sentinel. Unless Rowe is killed, you’re bound to each other.”
I thought for a second, and leaned against Rowan’s back. “Are you sure you want that?”
A smirk played on his lips as he glanced at me over his shoulder. I felt the sincerity, the confidence within him, and something else that made me bite my bottom lip.
Smiling, feeling a little light headed, I repeated, “My decision definitely stands.”
“The ritual,” Grayson sputtered, frantic words matching manic, silver-speckled eyes. “You don’t know about the ritual.”
Rituals and ceremonies. They made me uncomfortable. I never went through graduation, always opted to pick up my diploma afterward. All that pompous pomp and circumstance seemed stiff and unnecessary to me.
“There is a ritual,” Rowan said over his shoulder. “But I didn’t think you cared for such things.”
Grinning, wondering how he could have known, but loving that he did, I told him, “you’re a very observant male.”
Heat surrounded us as he turned to face me, his eyes sparked with white gold.
“Do you accept me as your Sentinel, Savannah?”
“Yes,” I said without a moment’s hesitation.
Grayson and Cyrus were noticeably silent and still. They were resigned, and I wondered if they were able to read the moment of heat exchanged between Rowan and me. I wasn’t projecting anymore, but I was still half-human. With their full-caste demon hearing, eyesight, and experience, I doubted they missed the way my body reacted to the blonde Hammer.
Instead of feeling self-conscious about it, like I would have a few days ago, I felt proprietary over it. Of Rowan. I wanted him, all of him, and I didn’t care who knew. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
“Give me your hand,” Rowan’s command soft, almost sensual, and my body tensed and ached, startling me, but I welcomed it.
I did as he asked, sliding my hand slowly into his. His skin electrified mine. Rowan lifted our locked hands to his mouth, unglamoured in less than a second, slipped my index finger between his fangs, and nipped.
“Eep!” It didn’t really hurt. I was just taken by surprise.
As he drew blood, the feel of his mouth around my skin, of his fangs brushing against my flesh, the gentle pulls on the wound he’d made on the tip of my finger felt unbelievable.
Heat shot up my legs and down my belly, meeting in the middle, making me quiver, my heartbeat so strong I could feel it in the tips of my toes.
His tongue lapped along the tip of my finger before releasing it.
“I’m your Sentinel, Savannah.”
“Th-that’s all it takes?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He smiled that smile that lit up a part of me that had unequivocally become his, been awakened by him, craved him. Of all the emotions I’d missed out on in my life, t
his one was by far the most awesome to discover.
CHAPTER 28
Less than an hour later, I was fighting to hide my awe in front of a creature whose face I knew from history and Demonology books.
The term immortal had been an abstract concept until now.
After Grayson and Cyrus left, I explained to my Sentinel—I liked the sound of that…my Sentinel—what happened at Division. I told him about the decisions I’d made, about the many questions I needed answered. When I asked him to take me to Faction, to whoever was in charge of their operation, he didn’t protest, didn’t try to convince me it wasn’t safe.
And as he took my hand, preparing to jump us to Faction again, he said, “you are extraordinary, Savannah.”
I could still feel the heat of his hand in mine, still feel the twist inside my body at his words, a feeling I got each time he used my given name. Those sensations grounded me, kept part of me tethered while the other stared in disbelief at the Devil staring down at me.
The Devil Queen, the one who overthrew Lucifer and freed the Underrealm from his tyrannical, dogmatic rule studied me with black eyes. Astor, the ancient demon whose name decorated the pages of history books worldwide, stood before me with a solemn grin on her red, waxy lips.
She wasn’t ugly, not scary or panic inducing like Hadrian had been, though she looked a great deal like him. Instead of a head littered with black horns in the place of hair, Astor had two black, shiny horns high on her forehead. They were about a foot long, and twisted outward at the tips. Long, black hair fell below her waist. Like all Sorcerers, she was short and thin, but no one would mistake her diminutive stature for weakness. Her red skin and piranha teeth should have looked like Hadrian’s, but for some reason, they didn’t.
Connell had met us at the gate to Astor’s home. Rowan had gotten the word out to him about our plan, and the Mischief demon didn’t hesitate to offer us his services as guard under Faction law.
We stood inside a modest, red-clay structure with no decoration on the outside and not much to look at inside either. Though, my demon half suspected what we were looking at was only the receiving area. Underground, she whispered. Demons liked to live below ground. I had to resist the urge to sneak a peek around the Devil Queen.
She didn’t have guards at her sides, but I could feel three demons watching from the shadows, willing us to make a wrong move.
I mentally pulled at Connell on my left, then at Rowan on my right so I could feel them there. Their presence calmed me. Even though I knew a Sorcerer wielded unthinkable magic that could kill us in a heartbeat, I felt safer with these two males at my sides.
“Your guard and Sentinel reek with affection for you,” were her first words. Astor’s voice was like metal on cement, but also, oddly like bells chiming. It didn’t surprise me that she could already tell Rowan was my Sentinel. Just as my skin hummed in a low, nearly undetectable way, now, so did his. Amazing what a little blood could do.
“They are good males,” I said, meeting Astor’s black eyes with self-confidence I didn’t have, but evidently had learned how to fake.
She had wrinkles around her mouth, along her red forehead, and crow’s feet. She was immortal, therefore should show no signs of age. But her wrinkles made her look…happy. They showed a story, as if her life had had great laughter, real joy.
“A Destroyer-human defending one of the Fae and a Warrior. And Scion as well. How intriguing I find you.”
She didn’t sound intrigued. It seemed like she resented me, resented their affection for me and my affection for them.
“You let the Fae stay unglamoured in your presence,” Astor accused, like it was supposed to be humiliating.
“Connell prefers it.” Unblinking, I refused to look away under her scrutiny. “You let them stay unglamoured too.”
“I owe you no explanation.”
I didn’t really need one. She ruled before glamour was common practice amongst demons. Astor predated…everything.
“You wish to be claimed by the Warrior.” Now she was just trying to piss me off.
I wouldn’t rise to the occasion, and said, “That’s between us, and none of your business.”
Astor tilted her head, studying me. She wasn’t impressed by anything she saw. I could feel it. Was it what I was, who I was, or the position I’d inherited?
Perhaps it was too ridiculous to assume any demons would respect me. Connell jumped on my band wagon pretty quickly, but he was the only one. Dmitri didn’t like me, never had. Only felt it was his demon duty to respect my position. Not me. Cy was the same. Grayson wanted to claim me, mate me and be Scion-in-law, or whatever.
The males at my sides were the only ones who valued me for me.
Astor, though she couldn’t stand me, seemed inclined to tolerate me, prepared to endure me. Or, at least not harm me for now, curious about what I had to say.
“Your mother has issued a request for you to visit her court in the Underrealm. Have you accepted?”
Blinking in surprise and a fervent wave of anxiety, I said, “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Your advisors do not keep you well informed.”
“I don’t have advisors,” I said, then, impulsively added, “yet.”
“You haven’t been Blooded into the Underrealm?” she narrowed her black eyes. Was she trying to telepath with me?
“You were once Royal. Shouldn’t you be able to telepath with everyone? Weren’t you Blooded?”
“Only my caste is immortal. When I gave up the throne, I ceased renewing the bond. My advisors expired long ago.”
How often did someone meet a historical figure? How often did a former nothing like me get to be in the position to find out the truth, directly from the source? I didn’t stand a chance against my curiosity. Not under these circumstances.
“What about your Tempter?” I blurted. The history books all said Astor’s Tempter lover was the reason why she stepped down as Royal. If she’d had Scion offspring, they would have replaced her. But Tempters and Sorcerers couldn’t procreate.
She didn’t visibly react to my question, but I got a wave of remorse and something deeper. Something painfully pure.
“Incubi are not immortal,” was her emotionless response, but I felt her sadness playing across my senses.
Astor was the Sorcerer who overthrew a dictator and took over the Underrealm millennia ago. She was the demon who was considered at least partly responsible for the world I knew, and for my own existence. She gave up ultimate power for a male, a demon outside her own caste, only to see him die and her survive for who knew how long after. And she still loved him. Would always love him. Her emotions on my senses told me that much.
It was heartbreaking.
“What was his name?” I asked, the human part of me showing compassion to the Sorcerer even though the demon part knew not to show weakness.
A small, unexpected smile. “Toulouse.”
“How long did you have together?” My questions were soft, because I knew the Q and A wouldn’t last long, and I didn’t want to scare the moment away.
“A handful of years. Though, I suppose it is relative, is it not? Toulouse lived longer than a human would, longer than a halfling, even longer than your Warrior will.”
But Rowan would outlive me no matter what. It should have seemed like jumping the gun, thinking about which one of us would die first, and hoping it was me.
Yet, here I was, jumping and hoping.
“You are not certain about your standing in the Underrealm,” Astor said, her tone flipping from solemn to commanding, like the ruler she was. “Is this why you have come to me?”
I took a breath, taking my time to focus my thoughts.
“I heard you don’t like the idea of a half-caste Scion.”
Astor blinked, red, waxy eyelids over black eyes, then grinned. “Curiosity, and concern for Faction’s freedom to remain as we remain.”
I thought about the unglamoured demon children pla
ying as Connell flew us overhead. I thought about how all the demons, especially the Mischief demons felt comfortable being unglamoured here. It was a good thing for demons to have another option besides the ‘realm and Up Above. Especially if it was an option where they felt comfortable being themselves.
“I respect the existence you have here.”
“If you fear your life is in danger, you may want to turn your eye to Division. I have heard their agents have been sniffing around you. If anyone has a problem with what you are, it is likely—”
“Division offered me a place within their ranks,” I announced, and felt Rowan tense beside me. But he said nothing.
“Is that so?” she studied me once again, those black eyes shrewd. “The director must see an opportunity. That clever girl.”
Astor, the Devil Queen knew Director Pakala? I wanted to ask so badly, but my Razer half kept whispering my time was running out.
I asked instead, “And what do you see?”
Immediately, Astor’s almost whimsical expression hardened.
“I see a feeble half-human without the skills to reign as necessary when the time comes. A weak half-human who has suffered puny, human woes, whose emotions are volatile, fragile, who would benefit greatly from being banished to the Underrealm to harden up a great deal. An untrained half-human whose mother made certain would feel nothing, know nothing of what she was or who she could be until it was far too late for recovery.”
Stunned into shamed silence, all I could do was focus on pushing out, keeping how her assessment made me feel to myself. I didn’t want Connell or Rowan knowing any more than I wanted Astor to know. I pushed out in all directions, containing my projection inside cages, because it was the only thing I could do.
I breathed, but there was no more air in the room. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear.
All sensation was gone but for pain from trying to gasp air that wasn’t there to gasp. Maybe I screamed, but I couldn’t hear myself. I may have pleaded and whimpered, fallen to my knees and cowered.
Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) Page 19