Morgan hadn’t been aware of time passing during her own personal hell inside Katar’s laboratory. When they were escorted outside, the sun had long since fallen.
Atlas’ fever broke an hour earlier, leaving him weak and shaken…and the infection fully rooted in his body. She could already spot minor changes. His normally pale skin began to darken along his fingers and ears, his frosted hair was beginning to turn silver in the dark light.
“I’m turning.” He didn’t glance at her, obviously feeling her gaze.
“Yes.” She saw no point in denying it. “How are you feeling?”
“Are you asking if I feel insane?” He gave her a sardonic look, raising a brow at her. “Then no. While many creatures revert to their more primitive selves, elves are different. We turn dark.”
He sounded grim, but Morgan had never met a dark elf or read much about them. They were myths, having died out long ago. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you should kill me the first chance you get.”
Morgan recoiled from him. “What the fuck!”
“No matter how much you want to save me, it’s already too late.”
“You’re an ass.” She couldn’t look at him without giving into the urge to smack the stupid out of him. She marched ahead a few paces, forcing the guards to keep up with her. They’d just bonded, and Atlas was already asking her to give up on him. “I took you for many things, but I didn’t expect you to be a coward.”
He grabbed her arm, nearly yanking her off her feet, then instantly released her. “You don’t understand. Dark elves are controlled by their emotions. They’re possessive and destructive, their actions volatile.”
Giddiness fluttered in her gut, and she grabbed his hand before he could pull away from her completely. “Welcome to being human.”
He scowled at her. “Humans don’t have magic that can kill—”
“No, they just use guns and weapons and words to destroy each other.” She refused to allow him to give up on her or himself. “So what if you’re more powerful? So am I. Does that mean I should walk away from people because I might hurt them? You are my mate, your job is to protect me, and I’m not going to let you go. If I can’t run, neither can you. You will live—for me. Understand?”
Atlas was staring at her now, no longer avoiding her gaze, studying her so intently, she felt exposed. “What?”
“You really mean that. You’re not afraid of me.”
Morgan scanned the vacant village they walked through on their way to the large stadium, the streets eerily empty. The fog hovered at the edge of the buildings and part of her wondered if everyone had gotten up and just wandered away.
“I’m more afraid of myself. I trust you to keep me balanced and centered. I trust you to be my sanity and keep me from jumping off the deep end.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Now, if I jump, I know you’ll jump with me. I might be one of the very few people who can appreciate you for being exactly who you are…even if you become Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
Atlas appeared dazed by her confession, and she liked being able to leave him speechless.
Ward remained quiet, trailing a step behind them. Though he didn’t physically tug at the collar, she knew he was testing the limits of the spell and receiving a nasty shock every few seconds for his efforts. Only his tight control kept him from losing his shit completely.
As they entered the stadium through a private doorway, they were guided to a reserved booth, as if they were honored guests and not held hostage by a madman. Red velvet curtains snapped shut behind them, giving them the illusion of privacy, but not one of the guards retreated.
The stadium was packed with different species who had at one time or another been at war with each other over the past millennia. While they might live in the village together, very few of them spoke to each other, most of them pretending the other races didn’t even exist.
But here they all had one thing in common…they were eager for the games to begin.
The meaning of the games became clear when she saw the blood-soaked sands and stones of the arena. They were pitting species against each other like gladiators.
Morgan didn’t understand why anyone would willingly participate in such a thing. She wasn’t aware of speaking out loud until Katar flung open the curtain and answered.
“Everyone who enters has volunteered to fight. Win in the arena, win immunity.”
“But the shot doesn’t work.” Morgan was appalled, but not surprised that people would tear each other apart for a chance at survival.
“Ah, but it slows the infection.” Katar had changed into fresh robes, but the madness in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “Besides, everyone here is dying. Death in the arena is much faster.”
She couldn’t fathom how he actually believed the fights were in any way humane. When she would’ve argued with him, Atlas shook his head. Reluctantly, she turned away and scanned the crowd for her men. When she didn’t see them, a deep foreboding clawed up her spine. “Where is my team?”
“Why, participating in the games, of course.” Katar’s smile turned vicious, malicious pleasure darkening his eyes. He gave a nod and a large gong echoed in the stadium. The crowd roared and leapt to their feet.
Ryder, Draven, Kincade, and Ascher strode into the giant stadium. Besides a few bruises, none appeared the worse for wear. None of the guys were armed. The crowd jeered at them, and she could understand why. None of them were infected, and they didn’t live in the village. They were the interlopers.
“If anything happens to them, I will make sure that you never reach Tartarus.” It took all her willpower to keep from jumping over the edge of the balcony to join them.
“Don’t make threats you won’t be able to keep. You’re not the type to let the rest of the realm die for petty revenge.” He smiled condescendingly at the crowd, as if he was a freaking king. “We need the best fighters to guide us. This is the way to determine who should be allowed to go.”
Morgan bit her tongue to keep from saying more.
He’d made a slight tactical error—while they might need him to discover what he did to break the seal on Tartarus, he became expendable afterwards.
She gripped the seat of her chair to remain seated, forcefully reminding herself that her men were trained assassins…but their opponents were desperate, which evened the odds considerably.
A second gong sounded, and the gates on the opposite side of the stadium opened. The first to emerge was a centaur, a valkyrie came next, followed by a cyclops who stood close to eight feet tall. The last man-like creature that emerged resembled a fetid swamp, the thing covered with moss and dripping dark, treacly water.
“A leshy.” Atlas leaned closer, his expression grim. “Russian and very deadly.”
Every one of them were fierce fighters, not to mention their bodies harbored some stage of infection.
A movement at her foot caught her attention, and she spied Loki inching along the base of the balcony. She eased out her foot, and he eagerly scrambled up her leg. She tucked him close to her chest, almost teary, ridiculously glad to see he had survived. He wiggled in excitement, inspecting every wound, and she quickly clamped a hand over his muzzle when he began to growl.
A third gong sounded, and her head snapped up.
Guards entered the arena, tossing down a few weapons, clearly not enough for everyone, and sprinted for the exit. The crowd began to cheer and counted backwards from ten. The opposing team didn’t wait. They sprang forward, taking possession of most of the weapons. Only Kincade and Draven were close enough to snag anything.
A paltry half sword and a shield.
Three seconds remained. The guys looked at each other in silence, then rearranged themselves as they selected their opponents. Kincade kept the sword, but Draven handed off the shield to Ryder.
Heart in her throat, she listened to the crowd chant…three…two…one.