by Luna Quinn
Trigger Warnings:
Descriptions of violence, torture, domestic violence and physical abuse, mentions of child death/miscarriage, strong language, and explicit sexual content.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Brittany Marczak and Yajaira Diaz. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
Copyedited by Sol Kim-Bentley
Cover design by LJ Anderson
Cover art from Dollar Photo Club and Period Images
To our besties, Beau and Sara
Prologue
215 years ago
City of Snakes in the human realm
A pain-filled cry echoed off the hills. It was the sound of a death blow. Razor could feel it in his bones. Only the surety that the sound hadn’t come from any of his brothers kept his gaze trained on his opponent. He couldn’t lose focus now.
Fifteen years since the journey to this moment had begun, and it was all ending today.
Years of preparation, of building alliances, gaining ground one day at a time, and living as rogues from the Underworld—the realm of their birth. But today, all that planning had finally paid off. Everything had fallen into place.
So fucking tired.
Swinging his dagger, he caught the Demon on the side of the neck. It screeched and launched itself at him in a blind fury, blood blossoming from the fresh wound. Razor bared his fangs and countered the attack.
Too many years they’d been fighting off armies of Others, all in allegiance to the current queen of this land, Iohram, a vicious gorgon. The Snake Queen.
Soon to be ex-Snake Queen, he thought, as he dug his knee into the Demon’s belly. The Demon grunted in pain. Razor punched it harder.
The feeling of knowing that tomorrow he and his brothers would wake up to peace was indescribable. It wouldn’t shame him to break down in tears when the sun finally rose.
As he grappled with the Itauloch Demon, grunts, growls, gurgles, and whimpers of the dying served as his background music. The battlefield reeked of death and fear. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smelled anything else. Not the smell of a good meal or a warm bed, much less the night without blood in its breeze.
Snarling, Razor didn’t let up as he kept hitting the Demon. None of this was the guy’s fault, he knew that, but that didn’t seem to matter as the desperation to see this fucking war done grew stronger. He held the struggling male against the muddy ground, exertion making him slower than usual and allowing the Demon to land its own blows on his body. He grunted in pain as the Itauloch scratched at his arms, its knees trying to find purchase against his ribs.
Unfortunately for the other male, Razor was bigger. And had a lot more fucking motivation.
As the Demon’s strength waned under Razor’s heavier weight and hits, he gripped the side of its head and twisted. The neck snapped and the body went limp instantly. A second later, he was up and pulling out his sword. His breathing was ragged and his body bleeding from several cuts, but he couldn’t afford even a few moments to catch his breath.
With a quick slash, he cut off the Demon’s head and moved on. There was no telling which breeds of Others could regenerate.
Up ahead, he spotted several more enemy soldiers cutting down his army. The sudden image of the new home he and his brothers searched for flashed in his mind, and he snarled. With renewed strength, he rushed forward.
It was only thanks to recent alliances formed in the new realm and the group of Others who had followed them here that Razor and his brothers weren’t already long dead.
As he took down the last cluster of enemies, his soldiers at his side, Razor noted that the screams and grunts of the dying weren’t coming as often. Worry nagged at him as he slashed his way through another adversary. He blocked out the noises of the fight, concentrating on the connection he shared with his brothers. In his mind, he pulled at the invisible strings that connected him to Edge, Night, and Sin.
Edge answered the mental question first. He was fine. As was Night. Though Night thought it was appropriate to add, Fuck off, Razor. I’m fine. No one has even touched my magnificent hair.
He rolled his eyes and decided he was going to punch Night in the gut when he saw his brother again.
Right when he was starting to worry that something had happened to Sin, his baby brother sent him reassurance through the link. In those short moments when Sin’s mind had been open to his, he’d felt that Sin wasn’t fine. The mental screams of anguish and pain almost made Razor double over.
Glancing up quickly from the fight he was in, he searched for Sin. He found him on the far left of the field, his body moving like a tornado, eradicating at least six Trolls in a handful of seconds. Sin was fighting with everything in him, his katanas slicing and chopping at anything that got in their way.
Sending Sin a light mental touch on his back, he returned to his fight. Sin would be fine. He deserved to be spilling blood. Maybe then his little brother would have a sliver of peace.
He didn’t know how long the fighting lasted, but when he finally pulled his blade from the gut of the last body in his path and wiped the blood from his face with his forearm, he looked around and his stomach dropped. There were only a few left standing, and none of them were his brothers.
Yells for them went unanswered. Even the mental ones.
Oh Goddess…no.
He shielded his sword, his heart beating so fast it was all he could hear for a moment. But then as he was about start digging through the piles of corpses, he heard it: a roar of victory.
He spun around, and there, on the tallest mountain of debris and death, stood Edge. The roar came again, and then soldiers began to step out from behind the trees. Some friends, some foes; some fearful, some relieved. But when they spotted Edge, they all looked upon him with awe.
Swallowing with emotion, Razor pulled out his sword again, readying to defend their victory.
Goddess, please let this be it.
His oldest brother’s chest heaved with exertion, his body covered in blood and gore just like the rest of them. Those icy black eyes of his traveled over every single warrior. When they went for their weapons, Edge’s glare made them falter. It dared them to try it. They looked around at their dead, then back up at Edge, and hesitated.
Razor’s chest expanded with pride. That was his brother up there. They would have no kings or queens in their new home, but if they did, Edg
e would be it. Even if his brother denied it, Razor believed with all his heart that Edge had been born to be a king.
“It is over!” Edge’s deep voice reverberated through the stones and trees. “We have won. Your queen is dead, and only you remain.”
As the words left Edge’s lips, Night walked out from behind a clump of trees. He held the head of the late Queen Iohram in his hand, her face frozen in a sneer. Sin followed behind Night, his double katanas held ready and dripping with blood as he guarded Night’s back. When they reached Edge, Night grinned, handing him the head.
Edge bellowed in triumph as he lifted the head high up in the air. “You have three choices. One: swear your alliance to us. Two: leave our land and never return. Or three: you can die here, now, on this field with honor.”
Heartbeats passed, but no one moved. Then, as if choreographed, every last one of them threw their weapons down and knelt on the blood-soaked ground, their heads bowed.
Smart fuckers.
His brother’s mighty roar was echoed by Night’s, then Sin’s, and finally Razor’s. His skin broke out in goose bumps as the three joined on the hill and stood next to their eldest brother.
The Hellhounds finally had a place in the world. He looked around at all they had done, all that was theirs now, and laughed. His tears of joy, relief, and heartbreak for all those they’d lost mixed with the soot and blood on his cheeks.
Shadow Realm was born. And it was good. Damn good.
Chapter One
Present Day
Shadow Realm
Damn, it felt good to be back in his Hellhound form. He just wished it were under better circumstances.
Razor lifted his face and sniffed the air, sifting through the various smells to zero in on the one he was tracking. The scent of death was hard to miss. He focused on it and took off.
If his gut was correct, it would be just like the other scenes he’d come across this week…and the week before: a semi-melted body with not a single clue or indication of foul play. But clearly something had made those peoples’ skin bubble and melt off.
Sure, there was magic capable of causing all kinds of ugly damage, but in every one of the murders—because that’s what Razor’s instincts told him they were—he had come across in the last two weeks, he had sensed no magic. And as a creature created partially from magic, Razor was sensitive to it. He didn’t know the ins and outs of it, but he sure as fuck could sense it. Yet there had been none present.
The smell of recent death grew thick and heavy around him. He cautiously moved closer. When he spotted the picnic area where the Silver Forest began, he paused. This side of the Silver Forest was wild and had no premade paths, so he’d need his human hands and feet to go any farther.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled the magic that had helped create him and shifted forms. It look less than three seconds for the glossy, black beast with blue Hellfire swimming around its legs to turn back into a six-foot three, dark eyed, tawny-brown-skinned man with closely cropped hair and an assortment of tattoos. It was all thanks to his mother that Razor and his brothers even had human forms. They might be more magical experiment than anything, but his mother had carried them in her womb and birthed them human. To their father’s dismay, they hadn’t been—and still weren’t—the mindless beast-men he had so eagerly hoped for.
“Shit,” he sighed, looking down at his nude body. How the fuck had he forgotten to wear the enchanted clothes and weapons the Witches had created for him? Oh yeah, he’d been knee-deep in paperwork when he’d gotten the report of a dead body. He had rushed out, not bothering to change, and regular clothes never survived the transformation. The power and magic it took to shift was too strong.
Warm wind from the trees whipped past him. Thank the Goddess it was a nice day today.
After the Great Fires turned what was now known as Old Earth into mostly charred terrain, the weather had gone wonky. Even centuries later, when the land had recovered and the survivors had rebuilt their world and called it New Earth, the climate remained volatile.
Shadow Realm actually had only two major climates—cold or hot. It wasn’t so bad, only that it usually changed every other day. Though they certainly weren’t as bad off as other parts of New Earth, which saw extremes on an hourly basis.
His thick boots crunched against the leaves that littered the ground as he strode into the forest. Well, at least he’d remembered to wear some of his special gear. Not that it would make him look any less stupid as he walked towards the smell of death, naked with a rifle strapped to his back, an ammo belt around his hips, and a multi-strap thigh holder full of daggers. Oh, and the big-ass shit-kickers.
A feminine laugh froze him on the spot.
“Oh, now I’ve seen it all,” she said through her shameless laughter. He grinned, recognizing the throaty, warm voice as Sasha’s. His body filled with awareness. She would be the one to witness his moment of stupidity. Sasha: one, Razor: zero.
Looking towards the sound of her laughter, he spotted her standing to his left and a few steps back. He hadn’t heard her approach, which wasn’t odd. Reapers like Sasha could transport from one place to the other in the blink of an eye.
Under the sunlight that filtered through the trees, the dark brown skin of her face seemed to have living tattoos of fire. It was the only skin she showed, but even so, the light danced over her flesh as the wind blew through the branches. His mind conjured the image of a completely nude Sasha under the same warm sunlight, and Razor almost groaned in approval.
The Reaper was beautiful. She wore her usual: a baggy sweatshirt, with an oversized hood over her black corkscrew curls, dark blue jeans, and laced-up boots.
“Hello to you, too. Aren’t you a sneaky little Reaper?” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He turned to face her fully, quickly placing a hand over his junk. Nudity wasn’t anything frowned upon in Shadow Realm, but this situation was just too awkward. Her gaze snagged on his, and then she rolled her eyes when she saw his poor attempt to cover up his genitals.
“Too late, I’ve seen it all already. And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” She tapped a finger on her chin, considering him. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen better.”
He laughed, giddiness bubbling through him. He lived for their encounters. “I seriously doubt that.”
She watched his face for a moment, her turquoise eyes amused. Then, as if unable to help herself, her gaze traveled very leisurely down his body, following the paths of his vibrant ink. He lifted an eyebrow. This was new. Sasha was usually playful, but never this…flirty. And she never checked him out so blatantly. Sure, they bantered and flirted here and there, but it was more subtle than this.
Bad fucking timing, Sasha. Any other time, he would have eagerly played with her. But there was an urgent matter at hand that he needed to deal with. Plus, there was also the surety that if he played along, his dick would respond.
Because this wasn’t just any woman. This was Sasha. Sasha, who he’d had a crush on for who the hell knew how long. He wasn’t a pup anymore, and he didn’t seem to have any problems containing his erections at any other time or with anyone else, but Sasha was a different story. She always had been.
And since he did not need a boner right now, he refrained. Walking around a crime scene with a hard dick would be really uncomfortable. Not to mention creepy since he was butt-naked.
Something soft landed on his face.
He reached up and pulled it off, recognizing Sasha’s hoodie. Damn, she was fast. He hadn’t even seen her take it off. Or maybe he’d just been too distracted by her.
He fingered the soft cotton. “That’s sweet of you. But this is about three sizes too small.” When he looked up, he noticed, with pleasure, that she now only wore a long-sleeved, skintight T-shirt.
Sasha’s lips twitched as she motioned to his hips. “You can tie it around or something.”
Smirking, he stood a little straighter as he tied the garment around his h
ips. “Does my dick make you uncomfortable, pretty girl?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and snorted. “Hardly. I’m just trying to give you some of your dignity back.”
“Uh-huh.”
The sleeves hung low enough to cover part of his cock, but not enough to shield it completely. If possible, he now looked even more ridiculous. He mentally cursed. Goddess, how much of a jackass did he look like to her?
When he looked up again, ready to apologize for this ridiculous scene, Sasha instantly read him and gave him a small smile. “Relax, Razor. It’s not a big deal. And I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I have business here.”
“Well then, in that case…” he said, and tried to make her smile again by exaggerating his walk and making the ends of the sweatshirt swing back and forth as he walked in her direction. “I assume you’re here for the soul, so follow me.”
She lifted an eyebrow, but he could tell she was fighting a laugh.
“Well, would you look at that? Good looking and smart.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Of course I’m here for the soul. But there’s also something that’s been bothering me that I want to run by you.” She moved to walk next to him, though her eyes never again dropped lower than his chin.
Nodding, he motioned for her to follow him, pushing his nakedness to the back of his mind to focus on his task. It took them less than ten steps to reach a slope where a small creek ran through two small hills, and a fresh corpse was sprawled on the ground.
It was just like the others.