Rebel Loss
Mates Of The Realms Book 3
Lacey Carter Andersen
Contents
Rebel Loss
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
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Also By Lacey Carter Andersen
About the Author
Copyright 2018
Published by Lacey Carter Andersen
Cover Art by Averi Hope
Typography by Jenica Saren
Formatted by Kassie Morse
This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
To my crew- you know who you are, and you know you’re awesome.
~ Lacey Carter Andersen
Chapter 1
Tristan would never consider himself a liar, but he’d lied to Surcy and Daniel. He’d told them that they could focus on saving the Immortals and have a chance to rescue Mark in time. Which is impossible.
The instant Caine saw Mark’s soul, he would destroy it. There was no question. The druid, who was like a brother to Tristan, would be gone forever. The knowledge clawed within him, screaming in protest.
Gargoyles protected the people they loved. They died before they allowed their loved ones to hurt in any way. The fact that Mark was dead meant he failed.
He failed.
A scream built in his throat, a roar of protest and denial. Mark was kind and good. A man who was still ruled by the lost boy who’d been thrown out by his people at such a fragile age. He had seen the worst in the world and still had a heart of gold. Mark was something precious, and Tristan had been sleeping when he died.
Sleeping. It seemed impossible. How could he have slept?
If Tristan didn’t do something, he was going to snap. He was going to lose his mind. All his logic was slipping away, replaced by a heart-wrenching emotion he couldn’t escape.
As Daniel and Surcy dressed and equipped themselves with weapons to rescue the first Immortal, Tristan slipped out of their home, his heart racing. He needed to find a place to let loose, to let the scream building inside of him explode. He needed to level everything around him to the ground.
Because Mark is dead.
Because I failed him.
Soaring over the gardens and above the quiet city, Tristan felt something cold on his cheek. Reaching up and touching the hard stone of his gargoyle skin, he saw liquid on his fingertip.
Stopping on the edge of a building, he stared at it in confusion.
He didn’t understand. He was a gargoyle. Gargoyles couldn’t cry. Can we?
He was made of stone, and stone didn’t weep. And yet, the tear rested on his fingertip as if to remind him of the one flaw of his kind. Despite being made of stone, they had very real hearts.
If only there was something I could do. Anything…
He stiffened, his mind snapping to something he’d nearly forgotten. Perhaps there is something I can do.
Dropping his hand, he looked out at the sleepy city. He had planned to fly until the ache in his chest eased, just for a few minutes before he returned and showed nothing but strength to the two people who needed him to protect and guide them.
But maybe he could do more than that.
The price would be steep. But he would pay it. I would pay any price for Mark.
Taking to the air once more, knowing that time was of the essence, he shot across the city and flew with all the power in his wings. When he reached the woods, he kept going until he saw the place he must go. Lowering, he dropped just outside the cave.
Hesitating only a moment, he regarded a place he’d only heard spoken about in whispers, a place of death, sadness, and anger, a place anyone with any sense would avoid.
Striding forward, he ignored his racing heart. If it was the only way, then there was no use in hesitating, no use in rethinking the logic of his choice.
Because there’s nothing logical about this.
It was dark inside, but the demon in him could see just fine. He wove deeper and deeper beneath the earth until his feet crunched onto bone. Staring down, he saw the path littered in the bones of different creatures—most human in form.
He had found the place.
Continuing forward, his heavy stone feet crunched more and more bones, but he remained in this form, knowing that to enter her domain as a human male would mean instant death. A light grew brighter ahead. He sensed the people waiting, knowing someone approached. As he drew closer to the entrance, he reached the light of the torches.
His stomach flipped. The stone walls were blackened, except where they were splattered with blood. Giant pillars of stone lifted the high ceiling of the cavern. Massive demons wearing armor made of bones lined the path, weapons at their side.
He moved down the path. None of the demons moved. But he didn’t expect them to, not without her command.
At last, he broke out of the line of guards and drew closer to the throne made of bones. She waited there for him, the Demon of Sacrifice. Her face was that of a young, beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes that were dark, with the slightest violet-shade. She wore a black dress that moved and flowed about her as if trying to pull free from the violent power that swelled from within her.
Crunching on yet more bones, he reached the steps before her throne and waited.
“Kneel,” she ordered, and the word vibrated through the room.
Against his will, he collapsed onto his knees, staring up at her.
“You have made a mistake, gargoyle.” Her words were like the tensing of a bow, drawing the air from the room. “I am the Demon of Sacrifice. I am the one who destroys men, those foul creatures who harm women and children. Any woman may come to me, and I will offer her my powers in exchange for vengeance.”
Her head cocked to the side. “You are that most hated creature… man, in stone or flesh. I do not help men.”
His throat tightened as she spoke, as if her very hands were closing around his throat. “I knew all this before I came. I even knew that you might kill me before you heard my words.”
Something unreadable flashed in her eyes. “And yet, you came. Why?”
“It was worth the risk.”
She crossed her long legs and the skirts moved yet again in their eerie, unnatural way. “Speak.”
The tightness in his throat eased enough for him to speak. “We seek to overthrow Caine. My demon-brothers and I, along with our angel, have been searching out the true rulers of t
he realms, because Caine is corrupt. He is turning innocents into demons, and thugs into angels, and we plan to stop him.”
The woman rose slowly, her eyes wide. “You’re saying… not everyone who is a demon sinned so greatly that they deserved their punishment?”
He shook his head. “No.”
To his amazement, the demon began to pace, her powers electric in the room. “I never imagined such a thing. I just thought that after what was done to me—that I held some blame—that I deserved—“
Her gaze snapped back to him, and for one horrible moment the pain and suffering in her eyes made the protective gargoyle within him want to roar in rage. Then, the look was gone. “I have never helped a man… except my brothers, but I will hear you out.”
“Thank you,” Tristan whispered. “It has been decreed that it will take all ten Immortals to overthrow Caine. They are the rightful rulers of the realms. My brother sacrificed his life to learn their whereabouts. He has told us that time is of the essence, and we cannot save him and them. I know that what I'm asking is a great thing and no simple task, but you are the only one who can help us. Can you prevent Caine from destroying Mark's soul while we save the world?”
Her brows rose. “You’re asking me to go against the most powerful man in existence.”
“I am.”
“He will come after me for this.”
“I know.”
She studied him. “So, what makes you think I will help you?”
He tried to hide his unease. “I have been told that you wish for one thing above all else, and even though I don’t think it’s what’s best for you, I can give it to you.”
A guarded look came over her face. “I want for nothing but vengeance against men.”
“And a stone heart.”
Shock registered on her face.
“You don’t want to feel anything anymore. You want the human part of you to die.”
She moved closer, her voice lowering. “I wish that more than anything, but I’m told such a thing is impossible.”
“Not if a gargoyle gives you his essence, that which makes him a gargoyle.”
Her hands came together before her, clenched above her heart. “Give it to me.”
He shook his head. “My friend, Mark…”
She released her hands and went back to pacing. “I cannot prevent his soul from judgment…”
Tristan’s hope fled.
“But I can buy you some time.”
“How much?”
“Three days.”
Tristan shook his head. “We need more than that.”
She whirled on him. “That’s all I can give. Take it or leave it.”
His breathing became rapid. Was he really going to do this? Give up being a gargoyle forever?
“Alright, but you must allow me to remain a gargoyle until I’ve completed my task. I can’t save the world with the flesh of a man.”
She moved to stand in front of him and held out a delicate hand. “It’s a deal.”
Power swelled around her and magic swept over him in a wave of heat, suffocating in its terrible beauty.
He raised his hand, and she snatched it.
Black magic exploded from beneath them, dark shadows that lifted them into the air and swirled in a storm of chaos. He tried to tear his hand free, but her magic was too powerful. Something in her life had created a creature of such rage that it overtook her and made her into this demon, a demon more powerful than he ever imagined.
White light began to pull from him. It was uncomfortable at first, and then painful. A scream tore from his lips, and he fought against whatever was happening to him, but there was no escape.
At last, in front of him, a swirling light formed into a heart and pulsed with white light.
With her free hand, she cradled it in her palm.
They dropped to the floor. She came down gracefully onto her feet, while he fell onto his side in the sea of bones.
She whirled around, her black skirts flying about her. Seating herself back on her throne, she set the white, pulsing heart on the arm of her chair. The look on her face was one of complete satisfaction.
At last, he drew in a breath, coughing. The pain still held him in its grip, but he tried to breathe through it.
She smiled. “I never said it wouldn’t be painful. Now, my gargoyle, you will attempt this task of yours. In three days’ time, whether you succeed or fail, I will devour your stone essence, and you will be nothing more than a demon.”
He struggled back onto his feet, rubbing at the ache in his chest. “Thank you.”
She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the pulsing heart.
Slipping from the room, he pushed himself faster, even though his body screamed in protest with each step. Now, Mark’s soul would be safe. They had three days to find the Immortals, and then, no matter what, they would wage their war on Caine.
Chapter 2
Surcy was so angry, angry and scared. Where the hell was Tristan? He’d told them they needed to hurry to save the Immortals. He’d told them that they couldn’t help Mark.
And then? He’d disappeared.
“Surcy!”
She spun at the sound of Daniel’s voice. He was kneeling over Mark’s body, which still lay there wrapped in a blanket. A black smoke rose from Mark, and slowly, his body faded until it was gone.
Her throat tightened.
“We knew it would happen,” he reminded her, his tone strangely robotic.
She nodded, unable to force the words past her lips. The bodies of demons and angels never remained in this world. They guessed it was Mark's druid powers that had allowed his body to stay for so long. She’d prayed she would have more time.
Somehow, losing his body felt like losing him yet again.
She walked on legs that trembled and knelt beside Daniel, taking his hand.
“That fucking druid,” Daniel whispered, his words holding tears. “I loved that idiot. I loved his stupid plants and that smile of his. He had a damned good fucking attitude about everything. I—I didn’t deserve him.”
She wanted to hug him, but he rose and tore from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Reaching out, she stroked the blanket that had held Mark and counted to thirty. Wiping away tears, she walked across the room. Daniel had locked his door, but she twisted the handle, snapping it off. Pushing open the door she saw him by the window, lighter in hand.
“Give it to me,” she ordered.
His face twisted. “It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
“It matters to me.”
His eyes held unshed tears. “My fire… issue… is nothing compared to all this bullshit. Mark and Tristan are the ones that helped me get clean. You should have seen them in the demon-realms. Do you have any idea how much using fire would’ve helped us escape? But no, the little shits pinned me down and wouldn’t let me touch it. They wouldn’t let me use it. They knew it’d killed me once, and they wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
“You have no idea how much I hated them for that.” Then, the flame went out and his hand dropped. “And no idea how much I loved them. No one ever cared before.” Tears slid down his cheeks. “No one gave a fuck if I killed myself, until them.”
His shoulders shook and his face fell into his hands.
Surcy raced across the room, grabbed the lighter, and tossed it out the window. Her arms wrapped around him, and she held the big demon, the fire mage, as he fought harder than she’d ever seen a person fight, to keep his control.
“Let it out,” she told him.
But he didn’t. His shoulders continued to shake. He didn’t seem to breathe. He just held himself stiffly, fighting back his need to cry.
“The reason you want your fire so badly is because it’s easier than feeling, but nothing will truly help until you mourn losing him.”
A shudder came over his body as he took a deep breath.
Raising his head from her shoulder, she saw the two
tears that had tracked down his cheeks. “That’s just it, isn’t it? We all know that Caine’s going to kill him the second his soul is reborn. We’re all acting like there’s still a chance, but he’s never going to send him to the demon-realm. He’s going to destroy him, isn’t he?”
She didn’t know what to say.
He was right.
“We have three days.”
Her head jerked up and she saw Tristan in the doorway. He looked pale.
“What?” Daniel asked, wiping at his face.
“I bought us three days. Caine can’t destroy his soul in that time.”
“How?”
Tristan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
Daniel walked across the room, and she imagined a million possibilities. She didn’t expect it when he wrapped Tristan in a hug. It wasn’t their awkward pat on the back either. It was a strong hug. Tristan held him fiercely, like a father. She could see the anger in his eyes, his need to protect the man who was fragile in ways most people couldn’t see.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat and wiped at the stray tears tracking down her cheeks. Since she’d arrived, memory gone and lost in the confusion, her demons had done nothing but focus on her. There was something amazing about this moment, because she felt she was seeing into who they were before, a team who watched out for each other.
Daniel pulled back. “Okay then,” he cleared his throat. “Time to find some Immortals.”
She rose. Three days wasn’t a lot of time. But for Mark, they’d do anything.
Chapter 3
Rebel Loss: An Angel Reverse Harem Romance (Mates of the Realms: Immortals Book 3) Page 1