Burning Dawn

chapter THIRTY


THANE EXITED THE BATHROOM with a towel wrapped around his waist. He and the boys had decided on a plan of action, to be carried out later today. Find Ardeo. Track him. Follow him to the prince. Perhaps the two would set up a meeting so the prince could reward Ardeo for stabbing Thane. If not, Ardeo would find a way to reach the prince. The Phoenix king believed the fallen angel could bring Malta back to life; he wouldn’t rest until he was proved wrong.

After that, the Army of Disgrace would go in with the Elite Seven, weapons blazing, and capture the prince. Interrogate the prince. Find the other princes responsible for Germanus’s death.

Then they would execute the final part of their plan. Kill. Them. All.

The only thing in question was what to do with Elin. Where would she be safest?

Thane’s blood heated when he spotted her lounging in the center of the bed.

She was already naked.

She grinned when his gaze met hers. A truly wicked grin, like none she’d ever given him. He wasn’t sure what to think.

“What are you waiting for, gorgeous?” she asked throatily, tracing a fingertip between her breasts. “I’m ready for you. I want to be chained and taken so hard I’ll feel you for weeks.”

Chained?

He frowned. Something was wrong with her.

The alcohol must be at work. Her behavior always underwent a shift when she drank.

He strode to the edge of the bed. She leaned up and tried to tug away the towel, but he held firm to the material and sat beside her.

“Kulta,” he said gently.

“Kulta?” There was a flash of...something...in her eyes, but it was so quickly masked he couldn’t identify it. “Don’t you want me?” she asked with a pout. “Because I want you, and I don’t want to wait.”


“I do want you.” Desire for her always simmered underneath his skin. Right now, concern proved stronger. “What’s the matter? Did someone say something to hurt you?”

“What would you do if someone did hurt me?” she asked silkily.

“Avenge you.” Brutally.

She blinked with surprise. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You know this.

Know what? she asked, the words wafting through his mind.

His confusion intensified. That I love you.

Of course I do, but I will never tire of hearing the words.

Even as her voice filled his head, her eyes narrowed. “Prove it. Prove you love me,” she said, planting a series of kisses across his throat.

The stroke of her tongue was hotter than usual. Her lips were firmer than usual, and her scent was all wrong. She didn’t smell like alcohol as she had earlier when he’d checked on her; but even more tellingly, her scent was missing the cherries.

And...the essentia had faded from her skin completely, he realized.

Suspicions danced through him.

This wasn’t Elin. This couldn’t be Elin.

He pinched her chin and held her face steady for his concentrated scrutiny. Smoked-glass eyes without any hint of warmth. They were wells of cold, hard determination, and the pupils were not dilated. Her delicate cheeks lacked the warm flush of arousal. Another sign of cold, hard determination.

The truth settled, and rage sparked.

This was Kendra.

Somehow, she’d removed her slave bands. Somehow, she’d found him. And now, she was trying to trick him into bedding her, so that she could enslave him all over again. That was how she’d gotten him last time. Eight times she’d come to him as a different woman, and eight times he’d spilled inside her, binding his soul tighter and tighter to hers.

Every fiber of his being longed to lash out, to hurt her in some way. But this time, he didn’t react according to emotion. He was a different man, and he wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

He breathed deeply, in and out, releasing the rage and concentrating on the regret he’d experienced every time he’d thought of his past.

What kind of life had Kendra led? What had brought her to this moment?

If he hurt her today, she would only want to hurt him another day, and then he would want to hurt her, and so on and so forth, and it would become an endless cycle of pain and remorse.

It was time to break the cycle.

Not knowing what else to do, he stood and stalked to the closet.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, unable to hide her irritation.

“What do you think?” He turned and held up four links of chains. “You wanted to be chained, did you not?”

At last, arousal came. He smelled it on her, and that saddened him. “Yes.”

“Lie back,” he commanded.

Instantly she obeyed, placing her arms over her head and spreading her legs. Goose bumps broke out over her skin as he clamped the metal on her wrists and ankles. A master at bondage, he had no problem anchoring the shackles to a bed not made for that type of activity.

Standing at the side of the bed, peering down at her, he sighed. He would talk, and she would listen. Hopefully he would get through to her.

“You overplayed your hand this time...Kendra.”

He expected her to erupt in defense, or spill more lies. Instead, she returned his grin. “Did I?”

A gasp from the doorway had him turning.

Bjorn stood there—with Elin at his side. “Uh, I came to tell you I obtained a vial of Water,” he said, holding the small, clear container up. “But we can discuss it later. I’ll just take Elin—”

“No.” Elin’s skin paled. Betrayal colored her eyes. “I told you to come to me with anything, that I’d do anything to ensure your needs were met, and you said okay. You even said your tastes had changed,” she rasped, the words rushed, as if she wanted to hold them inside but couldn’t. “You said you were done with this.”

“Well, he lied,” Kendra responded, and she no longer looked like Elin. Or even like herself. Her hair was blond, her face that of a stranger.

Elin backed away.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Thane said, desperate to make her understand.

She gave a bitter laugh. “Do me a favor and save your explanation for the next girl you’re looking to fool.” She pivoted on her heel and ran.

“Elin!”

Thane stepped forward, intending to chase after her. A single thought stopped him: he would have to restrain her to force her to listen to him, and restraining her would remind her of the chains, and he would do anything to make her forget what she’d just seen.

Kendra laughed. “Poor Thane. He finally falls for a woman, but she wants nothing to do with him.”

He gritted his teeth. He’d tried to do a good deed, and this was how he ended up?

Kulta, he projected. I need you to listen to me.

Too bad. I need you to shut up.

Elin, I promise you. What happened wasn’t sexual. Kendra was pretending to be you, but I realized her game and chained her up.

This time, she offered no response.

He tried again. Again, there was no response.

She’d blocked him. Probably hadn’t heard a word of his explanation.

“Go after her,” he commanded Bjorn. “Guard her. I’ll take over as soon as I’m done here.”

As the warrior rushed off, Thane turned his full, seething attention to Kendra.

Despite the implied threat—and his murderous expression—she gave another gleeful grin.

Calm. Just because you began poorly doesn’t mean you have to end that way.

“You should have stayed away,” he told her, his voice low. “I was done with my vengeance.”

“Well,” she snapped, “I wasn’t done with mine.”

“It will cost you. Because I will not allow you to leave until you understand the consequences of harming what’s mine.”

“I could say the same of you,” a voice growled from behind him.

Thane spun.

Ricker the War Ender stepped from a thick cloud of black smoke—and slammed a sword through Thane’s chest, the blade coming out the other side.

* * *

WAIT.

Freaking wait! Elin thought.

Truth began to seep past the veil of hurt. Thane wasn’t a cheater. He wasn’t dishonest. And he loved her. He loved her, and Elin loved him. She trusted him. Trusted him despite what her eyes had seen.

He always did everything within his power to protect her. He would never purposely chain a woman in his bed—especially a bed he’d planned to share with Elin—while she was nearby, able to stumble upon the scene at any moment...without a good reason.

There was an explanation for what had happened, just like he’d tried to tell her.

Relief was a beautiful deluge, and she stopped running. She’d made it all the way to the front porch, she realized. The sun had gone down, and the moon had taken its place, high and full and silvery. She closed her eyes and breathed, her heartbeat gradually calming.

I’m sorry for doubting you, she projected to Thane. Or tried to project. There was some kind of wall in her mind, trapping the words inside. Thane? Can you hear me?

Silence greeted her.

Had he...blocked her?

“No,” a deep, raspy voice proclaimed from...everywhere...nowhere. “I blocked you.”

Her gaze darted left, right. Behind. No one was with her. Then something caught her eye in the distance. A shape. That of a male with long, pale hair. He was tall. Wide. The tallest, widest man she’d ever seen. Not fat, but muscled. Though he had no wings, he hovered in the sky, floating toward her.


His features came into view, and she could only gape. He was magnificent. Like a beam of radiant light, shining down with pure, undiluted beauty.

And yet, cold fingers of dread walked down her spine.

Fight? Or flight?

A friend of Thane’s, or a foe?

Couldn’t be a friend. Why block her from Thane?

Run!

No. No way. Never again. She stood firm.

As he settled a few yards away from her, she gawked. Handsome didn’t even begin to describe him. He was gorgeous. No, that didn’t fit, either. He was exquisite. Nope. Even that word failed to do him justice.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I am Darkness, Destruction and Doom. I am Death. Yours, at least.”

Her throat went dry. Her skin tingled. And not the good kind of tingles Thane caused, but some kind of get-out-of-Dodge-because-it’s-about-to-blow tingles.

“Why are you here?” Her stomach twisted as a terrible suspicion hit her. “Never mind. Just leave. Now.”

His grin was slow—and pure evil. “Oh, I have no plans to stay...not for long, anyway. But like you, your precious Thane will be dead before I go.”

The prince. This was the prince Thane, Bjorn and Xerxes had talked about.

She couldn’t let him get to the Sent Ones. But what could she do? She was weaponless.

Actually, no. She wasn’t. She swiped up one of the boulders beside the porch stairs. “You want Thane? You’ll have to get through me first.”

His grin widened. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Because you’re a fool!” She launched the missile, and he didn’t even try to dodge, as if he found her effort amusing. But when the rock smacked him in the chest, he blinked. Shock filled his eyes.

“You are strong,” he said.

“And ticked!” She swiped up another boulder.

Bjorn raced past her, catching her by surprise, and acting as her shield. He withdrew two short swords. “Go back inside, Elin,” he commanded. “Now.”

Not even if you pay me.

“But I’d like her to stay,” the newcomer intoned.

Suddenly, her feet felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds. She tried to lift one, failed, and tried to lift the other. Another fail. Her shoes had somehow adhered to the pavement.

“I’ve summoned my entire army,” Bjorn announced. “You may be a prince, Malice, but you cannot beat us all.”

The male shook his head, his hair so long it danced over the flowers on the ground. “I can. I will. I’ll just have to work quickly.” His voice was a whisper on the wind, and yet, it was now laced with screams of anguish.

Elin cringed, certain her ears were bleeding.

For seemingly no reason, Bjorn’s legs collapsed, the bones in his calves snapping and pushing through his skin. As he bellowed with pain, he threw one of his swords at the prince.

Rather than take the blow, as he’d done with the boulder, Malice easily glided out of range...

...and both of Bjorn’s arms broke.

Another bellow sounded. Elin crouched and reached for him, thinking to grab Bjorn and yank him behind her. She would be his shield.

Malice laughed, and though the screams were thankfully absent, the gleeful cadence of his voice scraped at her nerves. “I didn’t expect to have this much fun.”

“Stop,” she shouted. “Enough.”

He smirked. “Is it?”

Crack.

Bjorn’s neck twisted to an unbearable angle. His chest stilled, no longer rising and falling.

“No!” she screamed. He was...he was...

Dead?

Unlike the Phoenix, he wouldn’t regenerate. But a Sent One couldn’t be killed so easily, could he?

Acid replaced blood, rushing through her veins. “Free my feet and fight me. Or are you too much of a coward?”

His gaze raked over her, and he tsked. “So brave...with so little reason to be. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

The next thing Elin knew, she was being lifted from the ground, floating closer and closer to the prince. Instinct demanded she flail and try to stop the motion. But she didn’t. She balled her fists, ready to throw the first punch when she got to him.

Of course, he stopped her just out of reach.

“Is the big, bad warrior afraid of a girl?” she taunted.

He pursed his lips. “You’re beginning to bore me, my sweet.”

“I’m devastated. Really.”

“Not yet. But you will be.” He glided forward, and just when he was within reach, he managed to immobilize her arms without even touching her. “I’m going to do Thane both a favor and a disservice. I will make you fully Phoenix, giving you an eternity with him...but he’ll have to watch me kill you over and over again.”

Fully Phoenix equaled fully immortal. It was what Thane desired for her more than anything. Once, she might have worried that he would freak out over the Phoenix aspect. Now, she knew him better. He loved her, no matter her race.

“Do it,” she gritted. “Make me stronger. See what happens when I unleash my wrath against you.”

He chuckled as he held out his empty hand. A syringe appeared in the center of his palm, crimson liquid swirling in the belly. “I had to trade a few favors for this. I know the Sent One has come to accept your heritage...but I doubt he’ll be so forgiving of Kendra’s ability to enslave. Unlike the princess, you won’t be able to turn it off at will.”

What! “No!” she shouted, twisting and turning, contorting her body to avoid the needle. Not the poison. Anything but the poison. Because he was right. Thane could get over anything—except that.

Grinning, the prince held her steady and jabbed the needle into her neck. In a blink, fire spread through her entire body. Screams reverberated inside her skull.

“Blood from the strongest of the Phoenix, as well as Kendra, with a little something extra from me to help speed the process along.” He brushed a fingertip along her jawline, making the pain ten thousand times worse. “You will come find me when you revive.”

“No.”

“Ah, well, you’ll soon discover otherwise. When next you wake, you’ll be bonded to me. You’ll do everything I tell you.”

He was too smug to be lying. She longed to respond—every fiber of her being was screaming, “Never!”—but she didn’t have the strength.

He held out his hand, empty now, and Bjorn’s sword flew into his grip. Her eyes widened. What did he—

He stabbed her in the stomach, once, twice, a third time. Agony. Such agony. Blood burned a path up her throat and gurgled from her mouth. The moment he pulled the metal out, she tumbled to the ground, unable to hold herself up.

“See you soon, my sweet.” He stepped over her.

From the corner of her eye, she watched, horrified, as he stabbed Bjorn in the heart. If the warrior had managed to survive the severed spine, he was a goner now.

No, no, no. He was a Sent One. Stronger than most. He could survive even this.

Please.

The sword clattered to the ground. Whistling, the prince entered the castle.

Bastard. As she writhed in burning agony, her mind locked on a single fact. If he wasn’t stopped, he would hurt and kill everyone she loved. Can’t let him.

She reached for the sword, but the action caused her heart rate to increase, and her blood to pour out faster. She stilled. I’m dying, my last minutes ticking away.

It was okay, she reminded herself. She would come back. Malice had seen to that.

In Thane’s eyes, she would be a monster.

A whimper budded in the back of her throat.


Can’t worry about that right now.

To face the prince, she had to be stronger. And she would have to face him, not just because he’d compelled her—she could feel the desire to find him already stirring in her chest—but to help Thane.

Elin wiggled, and kept wiggling, hastening the flow of blood. The darkness waiting on the periphery spilled into her mind, closing in...growing thicker...

What if the prince lied, and you aren’t really immortal?

The thought hit her, and she stilled. It was a possibility.

No. No, it wasn’t. I’m coming back, even if I’m not fully Phoenix. No matter what, she was fully determined. Nothing could pry her spirit’s kung-fu grip from her body. Nothing.

...cold slithering through her limbs. Destination: her heart.

It was coming. Death was coming. There was no stopping it.

...pooling in her chest...

“Thane,” Elin said with the last of her breath.

* * *

THANE FOUGHT TO remain conscious. Ricker had freed Kendra, and the two had chained him to the bed. Kendra had wanted to kill him, and Ricker, who was clearly in the throes of her poison, had wanted to please her, but besides binding him and stabbing him a second time, neither had made a move to end him.

“What has made you like this, Kendra?” Thane asked her.

“So amazing?” she replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“So...twisted.”

A flash of vulnerability in her eyes, gone so swiftly he wanted to convince himself he’d imagined it—he couldn’t.

“Do you really want to hear the sob story of the poor little princess ignored by her entire clan, so desperate for affection she gave herself to a rival king at the age of fourteen, and he passed her around to his troops? Well, I’m not that little girl anymore. I’ve learned to take what I want. The clan. Men. It doesn’t matter.”

He should have seen. Should have realized. She had a past more terrible than his own, and he’d only added to her problems. “I’m sorry,” he said, and this, too, he meant.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry!” By the end, her voice was a screech. “He’s going to hurt you so bad, and I’m going to love every minute of it.”

“Who is he?”

Her lips twisted cruelly. “Your worst nightmare.”

“Is that what I am?” said a voice Thane recognized. “I always considered myself a forbidden fantasy.”

Thane tensed.

The prince.

Malice glided into the room. A white robe draped his body. Pretending to be a Sent One? It was a known fact: fallen angels were insanely jealous of Sent Ones.

Thane fought his bonds. Bjorn. Xerxes. Since being stabbed, he’d tried to call them at least ten times, but neither had responded. He’d tried to call Zacharel, too. The prince is here. Take the women and leave. Now. Again, there was no response.

Dread cut through him, sharper than the blade. They would never block him and never purposely ignore him. Which meant they had to be...incapacitated. Yes. Incapacitated, not dead.

And if they were incapacitated, the women...

No. No!

“Look what we did,” Kendra said, grinning as she motioned to Thane. “Just like you told us.”

“It’s not too late,” Thane told her. “You can help me, and I can help you.”

“I don’t need help.” But the beginnings of indecision stirred in her eyes.

“You did well,” the prince said to the princess. “You have a problem, however. I no longer have any use for you.” He placed a hand on both Kendra’s and Ricker’s brows. Striations of black appeared on their cheeks...down their necks... Their eyes rolled back, revealing the whites. Their bodies began to shake and shake...and when the shaking stopped, their skin was...stone? The black had spread, covering the pair from head to toe, creating a high-gloss sheen.

Thane had never seen anything like it.

The prince opened his hands, and the pair fell to the ground, nothing more than a pile of dust.

The evil power such an act required...more than Thane had ever witnessed. And completely unnecessary. With a little time, he could have reached her. Now, it was too late.

Malice grinned. “Your greatest enemies will never regenerate. You’re welcome.”

“That is the difference between us. I no longer had any desire for vengeance.”

The prince narrowed his eyes. “You lie.”

“And you are so afraid to face me, you had to stoop to this.”

Amused again, rather than insulted, the prince said, “You mock, and yet my battle strategy far surpassed yours.” He shrugged. “Did you try to summon your two favorite boy toys the way you Sent Ones like to do? Well, I’m sad to say they won’t be responding. Both are currently dead.”

His worst suspicion...confirmed.

Though the prince hadn’t touched him, he felt as if his heart had just turned to stone inside his chest. Cracks formed, before the petrified organ burst into countless shards, cutting him. “You are the liar.” Demons enjoyed twisting the truth. He couldn’t forget.

“Hardly. You taste the truth of my words, I’m sure. I ran into Bjorn outside, and Xerxes in the hallway. Both had very weak bone structure...and when I left them, both had holes in their chests.”

“No!” The word roared from Thane, a denial that sprang from deep, deep inside, where survival met the core of his being. The thought of losing his friends... No.

“Oh, yes.”

“I taste no lie—you’re right about that. You left them with broken bones and holes in their chests. But that doesn’t mean they’re dead. They’ve recovered from worse.”

Irritated, Malice snapped, “Time will tell.” Then he calmed and added, “They distracted you from our game...as did your female.”

Thane renewed his struggles, his flesh biting into the metal cuffs. What little strength he had left rapidly drained. “Don’t touch her. Don’t you dare touch her.”

The prince patted his cheek, and the contact blistered more than an acid bath. “Oh, I touched her. And more. I can hardly wait to show you the end result of my actions.”

The relish in his tone was frightening, but his words were downright terrifying. “What did you do?” Thane croaked. “What did you do!”

“Don’t worry, Sent One. She’ll live.”

Again, he tasted no lie. He sagged against the mattress. He could deal with anything except her death.

Malice stalked around the bed, once, twice. “Your army is on its way. Did you know that? Did you call them? Your friends did. But my minions will hold the warriors off until I’m finished here.”

So cocky. “You underestimate our strength.”

A tinkling laugh. “Surely you see the irony of your statement.”

He did. But he didn’t care.

He’d spent his life bucking against the authority of a leader—any leader. That was how he’d ended up with Zacharel, the coldest of the cold, part of an army the rest of their world considered one step above useless and best forgotten.

Those soldiers would fight for him and those he loved with the same fervency as Bjorn and Xerxes. Like Elin, they had become his family.

“You don’t stand a chance,” Thane said confidently.

Malice waved the words away. “I’ll be long gone before your friends are even able to enter the castle.” His ear twitched, and he nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent. I think your Elin is on her way.”

Elin!

“Run,” Thane shouted. “Elin, run!”


“She can’t,” the prince said with a smile straight from the depths of his worst nightmares.

She dashed around the corner and entered the room wearing Bjorn’s robe. Thane experienced a wealth of emotion. Joy that she lived. Anger that she had been placed in this situation. Desperation to whisk her away to safety. Fear for Bjorn.

Her gaze met his, only to skid away quickly.

Still upset about what she’d seen?

Or upset about what had happened to his friend?

“Run,” he commanded. “Please.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” Malice tsked. “Stay.”

She stayed. Head bowed. Shoulders stooped. A pose of submission.

Something inside Thane’s chest clenched. Her hair appeared lighter, he realized—because it was threaded with flames. And her once smoked-glass eyes now blazed and crackled with orange fire.

She was a Phoenix.

And she still wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Did she think he would reject her?

How could he? She was a beautiful, fearsome sight. And she was still his kulta. Now and always.

“I love you, Elin. With all that I am. No matter what.”

Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Let him go,” she demanded of the prince, the hem of the robe swaying on the floor as she shifted from one foot to the other. “Please.”

“I don’t think I will, but I do thank you for the suggestion.” Malice rubbed his hands together, and with his gaze locked on Thane, he said, “I wonder if your love will turn to hate when you learn your woman is now blessed with the same ability your Kendra possessed.”

Thane merely blinked. Kulta. I don’t care. Do you hear me?

She was alive. Nothing else mattered.

His lack of reaction angered the prince.

Malice whirled on Elin, who’d stood utterly still during his speech. “Did your clothes burn away, little one? Did you steal a robe from a dead man, not wanting me to see the body I will soon rip asunder? How novel.” He tore the material off her, leaving her naked.

Thane tried to reach for her, desperate to shield her. And for a moment, he was transported back to the demon dungeon, Bjorn dangling over him, Xerxes raped across from him. Thane, seemingly forgotten, while all too present in that hell.

“Don’t you dare hurt her. Hurt me. Hurt me however you desire. Just let her go.”

“Hurt you?” Malice winked at him. “From what I hear, you’d like it.”

“Thane,” Elin said before he could reply, her tone trembling. “Don’t worry about me, all right? I’ll be okay. And...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about what happened earlier. I trust you. I do. And I love you. I love you so much.”

Words he’d longed to hear—words that eased something inside him, even as they razed the worst of his protective instincts. Don’t be sorry, he tried to project to her. Survive.

“How adorable.” The prince held out his hand. A sword appeared. “You love her. She loves you. Now, you can watch her die.”

“No,” Thane shouted, trying again to reach for her.

A shudder moved through Elin’s body. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You just—”

Malice stabbed her in the heart, silencing her with an agonized gasp.

Snarling, Thane yanked so hard at his chains, the entire bed shook. Elin fell, crashing into the floor. She didn’t move.

Knowing she was now fully Phoenix did nothing to temper his reaction. His woman was a boneless heap, blood pooling around her, and it destroyed him. Fury was a storm, uncontrollable and wild, flooding him with adrenaline and, finally, the necessary strength. As Elin caught fire and burned to ash in mere seconds—the fastest regeneration he’d ever seen—he split the head-and footboard with the force of his struggles. The links gave way at last, freeing him.

He jolted upright, watching as the fire expanded. In the center of the flames, Elin appeared in a burst of light. He was relieved. He was angry. How she must have suffered. Must be suffering.

The fire died, and she once again crashed into the floor. Gasping for breath, she fought her way to her hands and knees, then to an unsteady crouch.

“Ready for...round two?” she panted, taunting the prince.

A knot clogged Thane’s throat. He made to grab her and jerk her behind him, even though his forearms and wrists were broken and set at odd angles.

“None of that,” Malice said—and used the sword to hack off both Thane’s hands.

Elin screamed with fury. She lumbered to her feet and launched herself at the prince, but he caught her midair, able to levitate her with his mind and lock her in place. Then...he stabbed her in the stomach.

“Oh, my,” the prince said as she crumbled to the floor. “I do hope she wasn’t carrying your babe.”

Thane barely had time to choke on a howl of rage, for when she reformed, the male quickly decapitated her. This time, she reformed almost instantly, motionless in a pool of blood and fire one second, crouched and surrounded by smoke the next. Thane almost couldn’t process the depths of his fury and helplessness.

“Please,” he croaked. He would beg. Pride was nothing when it came to his woman’s safety and well-being.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” the prince continued. “I’m going to give a command, and you, Thane, are going to obey it. If you fail, I will kill your female in a new and creative way.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll do.” Thane stood, swayed. He didn’t care about the loss of his hands, or the holes in his chest. “This is between you and me.”

“Exactly.”

“She’s suffered enough.”

“Has she?”

He watched, unable to do anything as Elin floated closer and closer to the prince...stopping just in front of him. She looked at Thane and offered him a soft, sweet smile that proved to be his undoing.

He stumbled forward, intent on stepping in front of his woman and taking whatever blow was meant for her. He couldn’t watch her die again. He just couldn’t.

An almost imperceptible shake of her head stopped him.

He frowned.

“Thank you,” she said to Malice.

The male arched a brow. “For what, my sweet?” He gently brushed the hair from her forehead.

“For orchestrating your own downfall. You see, the second time you killed me, you severed our bond. Every time after that, I grew stronger. Now, I’m powerful enough to control the abilities that would have overwhelmed me otherwise.” As the last word left her, wings burst from her back. Wings of red, yellow and black. Not made of feathers, but of flames. Thick smoke curled from their edges.

Before the prince could process what was happening, she spun, swiping those wings across his throat.

She dropped to the floor, crouched, watching, waiting, the wings lifted and spread behind her.

Blood dripped from Malice’s wound several seconds before his head slipped off his body. But he caught the head midair and put it back in place.

The skin, and everything else, wove back together.

“That wasn’t very nice,” the prince gritted.

Horror chilled Thane. But he forced himself to look past it. Past all of his emotions and focus on instinct. All demons, no matter their rank, were susceptible to one thing.

“No,” Elin whispered. “Impossible.”

“Again, Elin,” Thane managed.

She heard him and reacted instantly, swinging her wings at the prince a second time before he thought to strike at her.

Once again, she removed his head.

“Water,” Thane rushed out next. “Robe. Pour.”


She knew what he wanted, and grabbed the robe she’d taken from Bjorn, the one the prince had torn away from her, digging inside and removing the vial of Water.

The prince’s head had fallen and again he’d caught it. But before he could anchor it back into place, Elin used her wings to propel herself into his chest and knock him down.

The head rolled away, out of reach.

Still the prince swung at her, though it was clear he couldn’t see her, because he missed by a mile. It bought her the second she needed. She dumped what little Water the vial contained over the neck wound.

Tissue sizzled. Sulfur-scented steam rose.

The body jerked.

The head screamed.

The sizzling intensified, and spread...spread...until all of his flesh...and muscle...and bone...were bubbling like cheese in an oven.

Elin coughed, the steam so thick it saturated the air. Thane didn’t have the strength to react.

Then the steam cleared—there one moment, gone the next—and there was no sign of the prince.

He was gone.

Thane had read about this. He knew the prince had just lost his body, and his spirit had been sucked into hell, where it was now bound.

Which meant...

It was over. It was really over.

Thane’s knees buckled, and he collapsed, overjoyed, relieved. And still dying. Ricker’s sword had punctured his heart and a lung, and now, his life’s blood poured from the ends of his arms.

He’d never hated pain more. Because it meant he would be taken from Elin.

“Kulta,” he gasped out.

Her wings vanished, and she rushed to his side, saying, “Bjorn and Xerxes are alive. I gave them each a few drops of the Water. And then the prince... I should have saved some for you... What was I thinking? I’m so sorry, baby.”

“You did everything right.” His gaze met the sweet beauty of hers. The time he’d had with her...worth anything. Everything. “Stay with...them. They’ll take care...of you.”

Tears caught in her lashes before cascading down her cheeks. “Don’t you dare talk like that. You’re going to be okay. You’re immortal. You’ll recover.”

If he drank the Water in the next few minutes, yes. Maybe. If not...no. These injuries were far too severe. Vital organs had been punctured and they couldn’t regenerate fast enough. He’d lost too much blood. But he didn’t want to tell her that. She’d start to feel guilty again.

His friends rushed into the room—and they were not alone. Bellorie and the girls, plus all of Zacharel’s army. Everyone had survived the attack. And thank the Most High, the minions must have sensed the prince’s death and scurried off like the cowards they were, afraid to act now that they were without a leader to protect them.

While Xerxes blocked everyone’s view of Elin, Bjorn grabbed a robe from the closet and tugged the material over her head, covering her nakedness.

Zacharel surveyed the scene, and when his gaze landed on Thane, the layer of ice he wore like a second skin cracked. “You are almost past the point of aid, my friend.”

“Tell me something...I don’t know.”

“Does anyone have the special Water?” Elin practically shrieked. “If so, you better give it to me. Give it to me now. I killed a prince, and I won’t stop there.”

Malcolm, who had resisted all of Thane’s demands and pleas before, reached inside an air pocket without hesitation.

My little tyrant. She’d really come into her own.

He began to wheeze. His chest tightened. The world dimmed as Elin uncorked the vial and turned to him. Then he lost sight of her completely. Lost the sound of her voice, and the comfort of her scent. Lost...everything.

* * *

ELIN POURED EVERY BIT of the water into Thane’s mouth. But he was unconscious and didn’t swallow. Most of it dribbled from him as his head lolled to the side.

“Come on, Thane.” Desperately she worked his throat with her fingers.

The black-haired warrior with bright green eyes barked, “Does anyone else have a vial? He needs it now.”

Heads shook, and eyes gleamed with dismay. Bjorn and Xerxes looked ready to bust apart at the seams, as if they couldn’t control the dark tide of emotion rampaging through them.

Without the Water, Thane would die. If he wasn’t already—

No.

This couldn’t be the end.

“Bjorn, Xerxes.” She wasn’t giving up and knew they wouldn’t, either. “We’re taking him to the source. Now.”

“We can’t force the crowd to let us pass,” Xerxes said, clearly dealing with shock. “That’s the only rule.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. But it didn’t matter—she would do anything. “We’ll find a way.”

The male gently gathered Thane in his arms. Blood dripped from Thane’s wings, painting the feathers crimson. “You’re right. We must try.”

Features tight with worry, Bjorn tugged her to his chest, something that couldn’t be pleasant for him. But their minds were in accord. Do whatever was necessary to save Thane’s life.

Together, their little foursome flew to some kind of temple. During the twenty-minute flight—the longest twenty minutes of her life—Thane never opened his eyes, never said a word.

To her horror, there was a huge line of people waiting at a towering iron gate, and Xerxes’s words began to make sense. All of these people...and she was just supposed to wait?

“We are next,” Xerxes stated baldly. “Please.”

“No way,” said the petulant male at the front of the line. “I’ve waited too long for my turn.”

“Then another few minutes won’t hurt you, but I will,” Elin snapped, flames bursting from her hair.

She hissed, her face breaking out into a mass of blisters, and Bjorn dropped her.

As she straightened, the male at the front of the line backed away from her.

“We can’t use force,” Xerxes reminded her. “Whatever method we use will be visited upon us for the rest of eternity.”

Which wouldn’t help Thane. She wanted to scream!

A mental command caused her wings to dissipate—her control continued to shock and awe her. “Thane of the Three is dying,” she announced, lifting her chin. “He is a good man, and he is loved. Help us help him. Please.”

Annnd...no response. Everyone looked away. All the moment lacked was crickets singing in the background.

Her hands fisted. “Imagine yourself standing here, in my place. Imagine your spouse or your friend or your father or brother struggling to survive. Imagine there is a way to save him...but someone is standing in your way. How would you feel? What would you do?”

Again, there was no response. Until...

“Let them pass,” someone down the way shouted.

“Yeah,” another called. “Have a heart. He’s one of ours.”

“It’s not like you’ll be adding more than five minutes to your wait.”

“Fine,” the next in line grumbled. “You’re next.”

Her relief was tempered by concern as she took in Thane’s pale skin and blue-tinged lips. The first battle was won, but not the war.

Come on, come on, come the freak on. Finally, the iron gate opened, and as a female Sent One skipped out, smiling, Xerxes stalked past her, Thane still quiet and motionless in his arms. Bjorn and Elin followed closely behind.

This had to work. Failure wasn’t an option.

Xerxes didn’t stop at the River’s shore, but waded in deep. Bjorn and Elin, too. At the moment of contact, however, terrible pain consumed her and she jumped out. What was that about?


Bjorn looked back at her, understanding lighting his face. “I heard what the prince said to you. He infected you with Kendra’s poison and his own darkness.”

“Yes.”

“And now you hurt.”

“Yes,” she repeated, her gaze straying to Thane. He was still unconscious. Keep it together.

Bjorn tilted his head to the side, as if he was listening to a voice she couldn’t hear. “The Water is a cleansing agent,” he said. “The Most High has just informed me your defeat of the prince has earned a reward. Enter the River and be cleansed of the fallen angel’s darkness, as well as Kendra’s poison.”

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. “What about my immortality?” She had to keep it. For Thane. Because he would survive this. Nothing else was acceptable.

Again Bjorn’s head tilted to the side. “You will lose only the evil that came with it.”

Have the good, discard the bad? Thank you wasn’t good enough. Steeling herself against what was to come, she dived in and swallowed a mouthful. The pain was immediate and intense, and she broke the surface screaming, but within a few minutes, a sweet sense of peace took its place.

The moment she was able to, she swam to Xerxes and Thane. The water was the perfect temperature. Not too warm, not too cold, and it sparkled against her skin, pleasant now. Shaking, she scooped the liquid into Thane’s mouth, handful after handful, forcing him to swallow.

Still, there was no change.

She fed him even more liquid, desperation trying to choke her. She pressed her fingers into his neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing. Near-crippling anguish joined the desperation, and she gasped for breath.

“He helped me,” she cried out, hoping the Most High could hear her. “He helped me defeat the prince. I couldn’t have done it without him. Reward him. Please.”

Again, there was no change.

“Thane,” she rasped. “Please. Don’t do this. You made me love you. You gave me a purpose. Now...give me a future. Please.”

Bjorn and Xerxes exchanged a look teeming with grief.

She continued. “This isn’t a debate. I told you heal, and so you’ll heal. Do you hear me?”

Finally—finally!—he coughed, blood gurgling from the corners of his mouth.

She froze. Bjorn and Xerxes froze.

“Did that just happen?” she demanded.

“More. Give him more,” Xerxes rushed out, and she began scooping more and more water into Thane’s mouth, practically drowning him.

Another cough rang out, and there was a starburst of joy inside her.

“It’s working!”

“Elin?”

Steady. Don’t attack him. Not yet. But she could hardly contain herself, was jumping up and down, water sloshing around her. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

Thane raised his arms to wipe his face—his hands had completely regenerated, she noted. He looked around, saw that he was cradled in Xerxes’s arms like a baby, and frowned. “Where am I?”

Steady. “The River of Life.”

Xerxes released him. “Elin decided you needed a bath.” Guttural emotion thickened his voice.

“And she was right,” Bjorn said, his voice just as thick.

Steady— Oh, screw it. She threw herself against Thane. “I love you. I love you so much, and I’ve been cleansed of Kendra’s poison. You don’t have to worry—”

“I wasn’t worried. You were alive, and that was all that mattered to me.” His arms tightened around her. “I want you however I can have you.”

“I love you.” She peppered his face with kisses. “I’m so sorry I doubted you when I saw you with the girl. I—”

“Kendra,” he said, cupping her cheeks. “That was Kendra, pretending to be you. But I recognized the differences, and wanted only to talk to her before you walked in. But Ricker came in and incapacitated me. Then the prince showed up and killed both Kendra and Ricker, and they did not regenerate.”

“Good. That means the only enemy you have left is Ardeo.”

“No.” He buried his face in the hollow of her neck and breathed her in. “What he did, he did out of sorrow. Losing you...I understand, and I forgive. I’m done with that war. My weeds are gone.”

Elin peppered him with more kisses, then looked, misty-eyed, at Bjorn and Xerxes. “Don’t just stand there, guys. Get in on this. It’s group-hug time!”

To her delight, they obeyed.

They are my family. Now and always.

These men were a gift. Thane had told her she was the light to his dark, but that wasn’t true. These men weren’t dark. Okay, so they were kind of darkish. But. For once, she loved the word. And they were healing. With a little help from her, they’d go all the way.

Step one, helping Bjorn with his much-needed divorce.

Step two, finding a date for Xerxes.

“What are you thinking, kulta?” Thane asked.

“Just that I love you,” she replied. “And I’m going to make you and our two little boys happy. I know it.”

Bjorn and Xerxes snorted.

“Hey, Zerk,” she said. “Did I ever tell you about the girl I met at one of my dodge-boulder games? She—”

“No.” He shook his head. “Never. You aren’t playing matchmaker.”

“He already has a woman.” Bjorn wiggled his brows. “Her name is Cario, and she—”

“Isn’t mine,” Xerxes said, cutting him off.

Elin clapped. “Ohhh, I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”

Xerxes dragged Bjorn away, the two men arguing.

“I’ll find out, and give her a call,” she bellowed after them. “Maybe we can double-date. Yes? Great. I’m taking your silence as a yes.”

Thane grinned down at her slowly, sweetly. “A double date will be interesting, that’s for sure.”

“Why?”

“Because Xerxes would like to kill Cario.”

“Oh. Well, not every relationship can be as healthy as ours.”

“True. We’ll just have to be an example to others for the rest of eternity.”

She rubbed her nose against his. “Slight problem, Mr. Three. I’m not sure that’s going to be long enough.”





EPILOGUE


“TAKE THAT, BIATCHES,” Elin shouted as she flipped the bird.

She’d just come in from the edge of the court and knocked out the Erections’ second-to-last player. Yes. The Erections. That was their team name. And their motto? We Play Hard So You Can Suck It!

“Elin the Side Swiper rocks and socks it,” someone in the crowd shouted.

Thane had given her the new moniker—he claimed she’d sneaked up on him and stolen his heart—and it had stuck.

Maybe because Multiple Scorgasms had made it all the way to the finals. And this, this was the championship match, and all their players were still in the game. No one had been knocked out.

Because they were fierce. They were determined.

This was for Chanel.

Thane, Bjorn and Xerxes watched from the stands, cheering just like everyone else. Well, except for those stupid enough to be fans of the Erections. Okay, that hadn’t come out the way she’d meant. Anyway. Those people were booing.

They must not have heard what Thane, Bjorn and Xerxes did to the last crowd to boo her. In essence, the stakes had seen another round of play. Short play, of course—they hadn’t wanted to upset Zacharel—but enough to get their point across.

Gotta love my man.


On the Erections’ team were Kaia, her sisters Bianka and Gwen, and Anya. They were quick on the speed trigger—ha-ha—but not quick enough. They were strong, but not strong enough.

Maybe because they were a bit distracted. Even though a couple of Sent Ones were helping to track them down, two of their people were still missing. Torin and Cameo.

Maybe there’s something I can do. I’m kind of extra amazing now.

When Bellorie tossed a boulder with all of her might, the remaining player, Kaia, caught it—crap, spoke too soon!—knocking Bellorie out, and bringing in another player from the Erections. Kaia then darted in the air, the tiny wings on her back allowing her to hover as she selected her target. Elin. Of course.

She was without a boulder.

Kaia tossed the one she held. It was angled too low to catch...unless she dived headfirst, risking serious injury. But if she failed to dive, she would be tapped out. The game would be over, and her team would lose.

Whatever. I’ll heal.

Elin dived.

The crowd went quiet with anticipation. The boulder slammed into her—into her face. Crack. Blood filled her mouth, but she was grinning as she stood with the boulder clutched in her hands and tossed it at Anya, nailing her in the ankle.

“Out!” she screamed with glee. She stuck her tongue out at both women. “You’re both out.”

And that meant...drumroll, please...the Scorgasms had done it. They’d won!

Her girls dog-piled her.

“Bonka Donk in the house!”

“We’re the champs, and everyone else is a loser!”

“We’re unstoppable!”

“Unbeatable!”

“And a little hideous,” Bellorie said, no longer jumping up and down, but eyeing Elin with concern. “I hate to say it, but your face has been taken over by an alien life force.”

“Thane will kiss me and make me better.” Elin pulled from the pack and raced toward the crowd.

Her man had already pushed his way through the masses. He met her in the middle of the court and gathered her close.

“So proud of you, kulta,” he said.

“Even though I had to cream your friends last week to get here?”

“Especially because you creamed my friends.” He tenderly cupped her face. “Let’s get you some Water.”

“Nope.” They had filled their vials while they swam in the River, but Bjorn needed every drop they had. His queen was summoning him more frequently now. They were looking for ways to break the bond between the two, but so far, they’d found nothing. “It may take a few days, but I’ll heal on my own.” It was one of the benefits of being fully immortal.

They were still trying to learn all she could do. Her strengths...her weaknesses. But Thane took everything in stride, helping her every step of the way.

He smiled at her. “There’s a problem with your plan. I need your mouth for other things. Namely, my next tongue-lashing.”

“Nothing could stop me,” she promised, and she meant it. “Nothing.”

* * * * *

Don’t miss one of the most highly anticipated stories in the LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD saga—

featuring Torin, keeper of Disease.

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rocks me every time!”

—Sylvia Day, #1 New York Times bestselling author

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The Darkest Whisper

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PROLOGUE

SEVEN-YEAR-OLD KOLDO sat as quietly as possible in the corner of the bedroom. His mother was brushing her hair, lovely dark ringlets spun with threads of the purest gold. She perched in front of the vanity, humming softly but excitedly, her smiling, freckled image reflected in an oval mirror. He couldn’t help but watch her, fascinated.

Cornelia was one of the most beautiful creatures ever created. Everyone always said so. Her eyes were the palest violet, edged by lashes the same brown-and-gold mix as her hair. Her lips were heart-shaped, and her pale skin glowed as brightly as the sun.

With Koldo’s inky hair, dark eyes and deeply bronzed skin, he looked nothing like her. The only thing they had in common was their wings, and perhaps that was why he was so proud of the glittering white feathers cushioned by plush, amber down. They were his one redeeming feature.

Her humming suddenly ceased.

Koldo gulped.

“You’re staring at me,” she snapped, all hint of her smile gone.

He cast his gaze to the floor, as she preferred. “Sorry, Momma.”

“I told you not to call me that.” She slammed the brush onto the marble counter. “Are you so foolish that you’ve already forgotten?”

“No,” he replied softly. Everyone lauded her sweetness and gentleness as much as her beauty, and they were right to do so. She was generous with her praise and kind to everyone who approached her—everyone but Koldo. He’d always experienced a very different side of her. No matter what he did or said, she found fault. And yet, still he loved her with all of his heart. He’d only ever wanted to please her.

“Hideous little creature,” she mumbled as she stood, the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle drifting from her. The purple fabric of her robe danced at her ankles, the jewels sewn into the hem sparkling in the light. “Just like your father.”

Koldo had never met his father, had only ever heard about the man.

Evil.

Disgusting.

Repulsive.

“I’m having friends over,” she said, flicking her hair over one shoulder. “You’re to stay up here. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Oh, yes. He understood. If anyone caught sight of him, she would be embarrassed by his ugliness. She would rage. He would suffer.

She peered at him for a long while. Finally she growled, “I should have drowned you in the bathtub when you were too young to fight back,” and stomped from the room, the door slamming shut behind her.

The rejection cut bone deep, and he wasn’t sure why. She’d said far worse countless times before.

Just love me, Momma. Please.

Maybe...maybe she couldn’t. Not yet. Hope unfurled in his chest, and he raised his chin. Maybe he hadn’t done enough to prove himself. Maybe if he did something special for her, she would finally realize he was nothing like his father. Maybe if he cleaned her room...and had a bouquet of fresh flowers waiting for her...and sang a song as she drifted to sleep... Yes! She would hug and kiss him in thanks, the way she often hugged and kissed the servants’ children.

Excited, Koldo folded the blankets he used for his pallet on the floor and jumped to his feet. He darted through the room, picking up the discarded robes and sandals, then fluffed the pillows strewn around the center rug, where Cornelia liked to relax and read.


He ignored the wall of weapons—the whip, the daggers and the swords—and straightened the items on the vanity: the brush, the bottles of perfume, the creams for his mother’s skin and the pungent-smelling liquid she liked to drink. He polished every necklace, bracelet and ring in her jewelry box.

By the time he finished, the room and everything in it glistened as though brand-new. He grinned, pleased with his efforts. She would appreciate all that he’d done—he just knew it.

Now for the flowers.

Cornelia wanted him to stay here, and had he promised to obey her, he would have. But he hadn’t promised. He’d told her only that he understood her desires. Besides, this was for her, all for her, and no one would see him. He would make sure of it.

He strode to the balcony, pushed open the double doors. Cool night air wafted over him. The palace was situated in a far realm of the lower heavens, neighbored by thousands of stars twinkling from an infinite expanse of black velvet. The moon was bright and high, a mere sliver curved into two upward points.

The moon was smiling at him.

Encouraged, Koldo stepped to the balcony’s ledge. There was no railing, allowing his toes to curl over the side. He flared his wings to their full length, the action bringing a cascade of joy. He loved flying through the sky, soaring up and zipping down, rolling through the clouds, chasing birds.

His mother knew nothing of this. “You are never to use your wings,” she’d announced the day they’d begun to sprout from his back. He’d planned to heed the command, he had, but then, one day, she’d been screaming about how much she despised him, and he’d climbed to the roof so that she wouldn’t have to gaze upon his ugly face. His misery had distracted him and he’d fallen down, down, dooown.

Just before landing, he’d flared the previously unused appendages and managed to slow his momentum. He’d crawled away with a shattered arm and leg, broken ribs, a punctured lung and a fractured ankle. Eventually, he’d healed—and he’d next jumped on purpose. He’d been addicted to the feel of the breeze on his skin, in his hair, and had craved more.

Now, in the present, he dived headfirst. The air slapped at him, and he had to swallow his whoop of satisfaction. The freedom...the slight edge of danger...the rush of warmth and strength... He would never get enough. Just before impact, he straightened and leveled out, his wings catching the current. He landed softly, his feet already in motion.

One step, two, three, annnd he was a mile into the forest. Not because he was fast—though he was—but because he could do something his mother and the other Sent Ones he’d seen could not. He could move from one place to another with only a thought.

He’d discovered the ability a few months ago. At first, he’d only been able to whisk a yard, then two, but every day he managed to go a little farther than before. All he had to do was calm his emotions and concentrate.

At last he reached the stretch of wildflowers he’d found the last time he’d broken the rules and left the palace. He plucked the prettiest from the ground, the petals the perfect shade of lavender, reminding him of his mother’s eyes. He brought them to his nose, sniffed. The mouthwatering aroma of coconut clung to him, and his grin returned.

If Cornelia asked where he’d gotten the bouquet, well, he would tell her the truth. He refused to lie, even to save himself from a punishment. Not only because other Sent Ones could taste when another being lied—unlike him—but also because lies were the language of the demons, and demons were almost as evil as his father.

His mother would appreciate Koldo’s honesty. Surely.

Hands full of moist green stalks, he sprinted out of the forest and leaped into the atmosphere, going higher and higher, his feathers ruffling in the wind, the muscles in his back straining in the most delightful way. Up and down his wings glided. His heart thundered in his chest as he landed on the balcony and peeked through the doorway. There was no sign of his mother.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he entered the room. He emptied Cornelia’s favorite vase of old, dried flowers, then added the new and watered the stems. He returned to his place in the corner, folded his legs and waited.

Hours passed.

More hours passed.

By the time the hinges squeaked to signal the door was being opened, his eyelids were heavy, his eyes as dry and scratchy as sandpaper, but he’d managed to stay awake and now jolted to eager attention.

A soft fall of footsteps. A pause.

“What did you do?” his mother gasped. She spun, taking in every inch of the bedroom.

“I made it better for you.” Love me. Please.

A sharp inhalation of breath before she stomped over, stopping just in front of him and glaring down with fiery hatred. “How dare you! I liked my things the way they were.”

Disappointment nearly crushed him, so heavily did it settle in his chest. Once again he’d failed her. “I’m sorry.”

“Where did you get the ambrosia?” Even as she spoke, her gaze jerked to the double doors leading to the balcony. “You flew, didn’t you?”

Only a beat of hesitation before he admitted, “Yes.”

At first, she gave no reaction. Then she squared her shoulders, an action of determination. “You think you can disobey me and never suffer any consequences. Is that it?”

“No. I just—”

“Liar!” she shouted. Her palm smacked against his cheek, the force of the impact propelling him into the wall. “You’re just like your father, doing what you want, when you want, no matter how anyone else feels about the matter, and I’m not going to tolerate this behavior anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, trembling.

“Believe me, you will be.” She grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. He didn’t struggle, allowing her to toss him onto the bed, on his stomach, and tie his wrists and ankles to the posts.

Another whipping, he thought, not allowing himself to beg for mercy she wouldn’t show. He would hurt, but he would heal. He knew that for a fact. He’d earned a thousand other punishments just like this one, but he’d always recovered. Physically, at least. Inside, his heart would bleed for years to come.

His mother selected a blade from the wall, ignoring the whip she normally wielded.

She was going to...kill him?

Finally Koldo tugged and twisted, but he wasn’t strong enough to fight his way free. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll never again clean your room, I promise. I’ll never again leave it.”

“You think that’s the problem? Oh, you foolish boy. The truth is, I can’t let you loose. You’re tainted by your father’s vile blood.” The fire in her eyes had spread to the rest of her features, creating a wild, crazed expression. “I’ll be doing the world a favor by limiting your ability to travel.”

No. No! “Don’t, Momma. Please, don’t.” He couldn’t lose his wings. He just couldn’t. He would rather die. “Please.”

“I told you not to call me by that wretched name!” she screeched.

Panic caused little crystals of ice to form in his blood. “I’ll never do it again, I promise. Just...please, don’t do this. Please.”

“I must.”

“You can take my legs. Just take my legs!”

“And make you dependent on me the rest of your life? No.” A slow grin lifted the corners of her lips. “I should have done this a long time ago.”


A second later, she struck.

Koldo screamed and screamed and screamed...until his voice broke and his strength drained. Until he saw his beautiful wings on the floor, the feathers now soaked in his blood.

Until he could only close his eyes and pray for death.

“There, now. Hush. It’s done,” she said almost gently. “You lost what you did not deserve.”

This was a dream, surely. His mother was not so cruel. No one could be so cruel.

Soft, warm lips pressed into his tearstained cheek, and the jasmine and honeysuckle of her scent overshadowed what remained of the coconut. “I’ll hate you forever, Koldo,” she whispered into his ear. “There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

No, not a dream. Reality.

His new reality.

His mother was far worse than cruel.

“I don’t want to change it,” he said, his chin quivering. Not anymore.

A tinkling laugh escaped her. “Is that anger I hear? Well, well. You’re already more like your father than I knew. Perhaps it’s time you met him.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “Yes, in the morning, I’ll take you to your father’s people. You’ll realize just how good I’ve been to you—if you survive.”



chapter ONE

In a world of darkness, the smallest light is a beacon.


Present Day

KOLDO STALKED DOWN the ICU ward of the hospital. He and the warrior with him were hidden from human eyes and protected from human touch. The doctors, nurses, visitors and patients misted through them, completely unaware of the invisible world playing out alongside theirs. A spirit world that had given birth to this natural world, the human world.

A spirit world that was the true reality for all creation.

One day, these humans would discover just how exact that statement really was. Their bodies would die, their spirits would rise—or descend—and they would begin to understand the natural world was fleeting, the spiritual eternal.

Eternal. Just like Koldo’s irritation seemed to be. He didn’t want to be here among the humans, on yet another silly mission, and he really didn’t like his companion, Axel. But his new leader, Zacharel, wanted him busy, distracted, for he suspected Koldo teetered on the verge of breaking a heavenly law.

Zacharel wasn’t wrong.

After everything Koldo had endured in his father’s camp...after escaping and spending centuries searching for his mother, Koldo had finally found her—and locked her inside a cage in one of his many homes.

So, yes. Koldo teetered. But he wouldn’t ever cause the woman irrevocable harm. He wouldn’t even lower himself to break one of her nails. For now, he simply hoped to teach her the horror of being trapped by circumstance, as she had taught him. As she was still teaching him.

Later, he would... He wasn’t sure. He no longer liked to consider the future.

Because of his abhorrence of Cornelia, Koldo had landed in the Army of Disgrace. It was a terrible name for such a choice defensive force, but it was one that fit nonetheless. The members were the worst of the worst, the baddest of the bad...male and female Sent Ones who were in danger of damnation.

For various reasons, all twenty soldiers had ignored prized heavenly laws. They were meant to love, but they hated. They were to help others, but they really only hurt. They were to build up, but they only ever tore down.

Three months ago, the members had been given one year to mend their wicked ways, or they would be stripped of their abilities and kicked into hell.

Koldo would do whatever was necessary to keep that from happening—even deny himself true vengeance. He refused to lose the only home he’d ever known.

Axel grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. “Dude! Did you see the meat bags on that girl?”

And there was reason number one why Koldo had a problem working with Axel. “Could you be any more disgusting?” He jerked from the warrior’s hold, contact with another not something he enjoyed.

“Yeah,” Axel said with an irreverent grin. “I could. But someone, and I won’t say your name, K, my man, needs to get his mind out of the gutter. I wasn’t talking about her chesticles.”

Koldo ran his tongue over his teeth. “What, then?”

“Hello. Her demons. Look.”

His gaze slid to the room at his right. The door had been in the process of closing and now clicked shut, blocking the occupant from view. “Too late.”

“It’s only too late when you’re dead. Come on. You gotta see this.” Axel strode forward and ghosted through the entrance.

Koldo’s hands curled into fists, and he battled the urge to punch a wall. They had a mission, and distractions only extended their time in a place crawling with demons laughing at the pain the humans suffered and whispering into the ears of anyone who would listen.

Can’t survive, they said. There’s no hope. And these humans...so many were puppets, with clawed hands tugging at their strings. If they failed to fight back, they would become casualties in a war between good and evil, either in this life or after death. One way or another.

That’s just the way things worked.

The Most High ruled the heavens. “He” was actually a sacred trinity consisting of the Merciful One, the Anointed One and the Mighty One, and He was the King of kings, His word law. He had appointed several underlings throughout the skies. Germanus—or Deity, as some of Koldo’s kind called him, referring to a title, nothing more—was one of those underlings. A king answerable to the King.

Germanus led the Elite Seven—Zacharel, Lysander, Andrian, Gabek, Shalilah, Luanne, Svana—and each of those seven led an army of Sent Ones. Zacharel, for instance, led the Army of Disgrace.

Sent Ones looked just like angels, but they weren’t actually angels. Not in the sense the world knew, at least. Yes, Sent Ones were winged. Yes, they waged war against evil and helped humans, but in actuality, they were the adopted children of the Most High, their lives tethered to His. He was the source of their power, the essence of their very existence.

Like humans, Sent Ones battled the desires of the flesh. They experienced lust, greed, envy, rage, pride, hate, despair. Angels, in actuality, were servants and messengers of the Most High. They experienced none of those things.

Mind on the mission.

Koldo straightened his spine. Zacharel had tasked him and Axel with killing a specific demon here at the hospital. The demon had made the mistake of tormenting a patient who knew about the spiritual world around him, a male who had called upon the aid of the Most High.

The Most High was love personified, willing to help anyone who asked. Sometimes angels were dispatched, sometimes Sent Ones. Sometimes both, depending on the situation and the skills needed. This time, Koldo and Axel had been chosen. They had been nearby, headed to a training session, when Zacharel’s voice had whispered through their minds, imparting instructions.

Axel peeked his head through the center of the door and said, “Dude! You’re missing it!”

“The person in that room is not our—”

Grinning, the warrior once again disappeared.

“Assignment,” Koldo finished to no one but himself. His anger intensified.

Control yourself.

He could move on and fight the demon he was supposed to fight, no problem, but according to Zacharel’s orders, he wasn’t to proceed without his partner.

Grinding his teeth, he marched forward. He slipped through the iron obstruction without any difficulty, stopped and glanced around. The room was small, with multiple machines attached to the motionless blonde female on the bed. A redheaded female sat next to her, chatting easily.


The redhead had no idea there were two demons standing behind her, pretending not to see the Sent Ones in the room.

“Two of the guys in my office got to arguing about who could run faster,” she said, “and soon bets were flying.”

Her voice had a whispery quality, as if filled with smoke and dreams, and it settled over Koldo like warm honey. And yet, with the soothing came a tensing. Every muscle in his body knotted up, as if preparing for war. He...wanted to fight such a delicate human? But why? Who was she?

“I felt as if I was standing in the middle of a stock exchange or something.”

Laughter bubbled from her, such beautiful laughter, pure, with nothing held back. The kind he’d never experienced himself.

“They decided to race in the parking lot instead of have lunch, and the loser had to eat whatever’s in the plastic bowl in the break room fridge. The one that’s been in there for over a month and is now black. I heard the cheers as I was pulling out of the lot, but I didn’t get to see who won.”

Wistful now. Why?

“You would have voted for Blaine, I’m sure. He’s only five-nine, so he wouldn’t tower over you too badly, and he has the cutest blue eyes. Not that his looks have anything to do with his speed, but I know you, and I know you would have wanted him to win regardless. You’ve always been a sucker for baby blues.”

He could only see the top half of her, but judging by the fragility of her bone structure, she was a tiny thing. Her features were plain, her skin as pale as porcelain, and her eyes as gray as a winter storm. Her mass of strawberry hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the ends curling all the way to her elbow.

There was an air of fatigue surrounding her, and yet, there was a sparkle in those winter eyes.

A sparkle the demons behind her would soon snuff out.

He forced his attention on the pair. One was posted at her left and one was posted at her right, and both had a proprietary hand on her shoulder. They were Koldo’s size, with dark, pupilless eyes that reminded him of bottomless pits. Lefty had a single horn protruding from the center of his forehead, and crimson scales rather than flesh. Righty had two thick horns rising from his scalp, and dark, matted fur.

There were many different types of demons, and they came in all different shapes and sizes. From the first of their kind, the fallen archangel Lucifer, to the viha, the paura, the násilí, the slecht, the grzech, the pic? and the envexa. And sadly, many more. Each sought the destruction of mankind—one man at a time, if necessary.

Amid the types of demons, there were ranks. Righty was a top-of-the-line paura, and all about fear. Lefty was a top-of-the-line grzech, and all about sickness.

Demons liked to attach themselves to humans and, through whispers and deceit, infect them with a toxin that caused their anxiety levels to spike, in the case of the paura, and the immune system to weaken, in the case of the grzech. Then, the demons fed off the ensuing panic and upset, weakening the humans further and making them easy targets for destruction.

The girl must have been a veritable buffet.

Just how sick was she?

Lefty gave up trying to ignore Axel and glared at him as he danced around, slapping his face and saying, “I’m hittin’ you, I’m hittin’ you, what’re you gonna do about it, huh, huh?” in the good-ole-country-boy accent he sometimes liked to use.

Koldo despised demons with every ounce of his being. No matter their type or rank, they were thieves, killers and slayers, just like his father’s people. They left chaos and confusion in their wake. They ruined. And this pair wouldn’t leave the girl unless forced—but even then she could welcome others.

His chest burned as he switched his focus to the girl on the bed. But...his gaze lasered through the wrinkled cover, the thin hospital gown, and even skin and muscle. What he saw astonished him.

To him, the blonde was now as transparent as glass, granting him a glance at the demon that had wormed its way inside her body. A grzech, different from the one plaguing the redhead. This one had tentacles that stretched through the blonde’s mind and into her heart, draining the life from her.

The Most High often blessed Sent Ones with specific supernatural abilities during difficult situations, things like this X-ray vision, as he’d heard others call it. Until now, Koldo had never experienced anything like it. Why here? Why now? Why this girl and not the other?

The questions were overshadowed a second later, when, in the blink of an eye, Koldo learned exactly how this had happened to her, the information seeming to download straight into his brain.

Born at twenty-six weeks, the blonde and her redheaded twin had struggled to survive the heart defects they’d been born with. Multiple surgeries were needed, and both almost died countless times—each time nullifying any progress made. Throughout the years, their parents had become fond of saying, “You have to keep yourself calm or you’ll have another heart attack.”

Innocent words meant to aid the pair—or so it seemed.

Words were one of the most powerful forces known—or unknown—to man. The Most High had created this world with His words. And humans, who had been fashioned in His image, could direct the entire course of their lives with their words, their mouths as the rudder on a ship, as the bridle on a horse. They produced with their words. They destroyed with their words.

Eventually the blonde had come to believe the slightest rise in her emotions would indeed cause another painful heart attack, and with her belief, fear had sparked to life.

Fear—the beginning of doom, for heavenly law stated that what a person feared would come upon them. In the blonde’s case, the fear had come upon her in the form of the grzech. She’d caught his notice, and she’d been such an easy target.

First, the demon breathed his toxin into her ear, whispering destructive suggestions.

Your heart could stop at any moment.

Oh, the pain...it’s unbearable. You can’t live through that again.

This time, the doctors may not be able to revive you.

Demons knew human eyes and ears were a doorway to the mind, and the mind was a doorway to the spirit. So, when the blonde had entertained the terrible suggestions, constantly rolling them through her mind, the fear had multiplied and become a poisoned truth, causing her defenses to crumble, allowing the demon to slink inside her, create a stronghold and destroy her from the inside out.

She had indeed had another heart attack, and the necessary organ had weakened beyond what human medicine could repair.

Did the Most High want Koldo to help her, even though she wasn’t his current mission? Was that what this unveiling was about?

Sighing, the redhead leaned back in her chair, returning Koldo’s attention to her. Once again, he saw flesh and blood rather than spirit. The Most High’s gift hadn’t extended to her.

He didn’t have time to wonder why. A waft of cinnamon and vanilla hit him, quickly followed by the sickening scent of sulfur. A scent the girl would not be able to shed, as long as the demons stayed with her.

“It’s about time for me to go,” she said, rubbing at the back of her neck as if the muscles were knotted. “I’ll let you know who won that race, La La.”

Did she have any idea that evil weighed her down and stalked her every move?

Did she know she was full of demon toxin, just like her sister? That, if she didn’t fight, she would end up in the same circumstance, the demons worming their way inside her body?

Koldo could kill Lefty and Righty, but again, other demons would sense what easy prey she was and attack her. As unknowledgeable as she clearly was, she would surrender again.


For any kind of long-term success, he would have to teach her to wage war against the toxin. But to do so, he would need her cooperation and time. Cooperation she may not give. Time she may not have. But...maybe she was the one the Most High wanted him to help. Maybe Koldo was to save the redhead from the blonde’s fate.

Either way, the choice to aid her—or not—was Koldo’s. Germanus and Zacharel might issue orders, but not the Most High. Not even when He revealed a truth. He never overrode free will.

“You want in on this, buddy?” Axel asked him, continuing to slap at the now-snarling demons behind the redhead. “’Cause I’m about to take things up a notch.”

“A notch above annoying is merely irritating,” he said, inwardly fuming because he already knew he was going to pick the mission. Survival always came first.

Why was he fuming, anyway? He liked the sound of the girl’s voice—so what? Who was she to him? No one. Why should he care about her and her future?

“We have a duty,” he added. “Let’s see to it.”

Immediately guilt attempted to rise. No matter who she was—or wasn’t—he was cold and callous to leave her to such an evil end, wasn’t he? His father would have made the same choice. His mother would have— He wasn’t sure what she would have done. She still seemed to love everyone but Koldo.

“Ah, come on, hoss,” Axel said. “Stop and play, that’s my motto.”

“You come on,” he called to Axel. “Now!” Before he changed his mind.

“Sure, sure.” Axel worked his way behind the demons and kicked one in the back of the knees. The other twisted swiftly to bat the side of Axel’s head with a meaty fist, sending the warrior propelling through the far wall.

Koldo stepped in front of his brethren when he returned to the room, preventing him from springing into a full-on attack. “Touch him again and you’ll discover my talent with the sword of fire,” he told the demons.

Loyalty mattered to Koldo. Deserved or not.

“Yeah.” Axel didn’t sound upset or even winded. He sounded happy. “What he said.”

Koldo threw him a glance, saw that he’d raised his fists and was hopping from one foot to the other. He could not be thousands of years old. He just couldn’t be.

“You’re the intruders here,” said the demon that had pretended Axel’s head was a baseball. His voice was as jagged as broken glass. “The girl is ours.”

He struggled against the urge to hurt and maim the demons as he reached back, grabbed Axel by the collar of his robe and tossed him through the only door into the hall. “I pray we’ll see each other again,” he told the fiends.

They hissed as Koldo stalked from the room.

Axel stood in the middle of the walkway, black hair shagging around a face he loved to claim women saw in their fantasies—because he saw it in his own. His electric blues glared holes in Koldo. “Dude! You wrinkled my clothes.”

They were back to “dude,” rather than “hoss.” Clearly the warrior had no idea just how volatile Koldo’s emotions were. Every step farther away from the girl darkened his mood. “What do you care? We’re to engage in battle, not model the current fashions from the skies.”

“Duh. But a guy’s gotta look his best, no matter the occasion.” An orderly walked by, wheeling a cart piled high with trays of food, snagging Axel’s attention. He followed, tossing back a delighted smile. “I smell pudding!”

How sublime. I got stuck with the only winged warrior with ADD.

* * *

THE FUN AND GAMES ENDED the moment Koldo and Axel closed in on the targeted demon. The human the creature tormented was restrained to his bed, and drugged, too, if the drool leaking from the side of his mouth was any indication.

A slecht hovered in the air at his right, whispering vile curse after vile curse.

“G-go away,” the male managed to gurgle. He could see the demon, but not Axel and Koldo. “Leave me alone!” The more he spoke, the stronger he became...but not yet strong enough.

You couldn’t slay a dragon if you had not yet learned to slay a bear.

Axel shocked Koldo by surging forward without a word, his wings shooting from his back. The demon only had time to look toward him and gasp before the warrior unsheathed two double-edged short swords from an air pocket and struck.

The swords were a gift from the Most High and something every Sent One was given. Axel’s wrists crisscrossed to form a very effective scissor, chopping the demon’s head from its body in a single heartbeat of time. The pieces thudded to the floor before evaporating into ash.

Deep down, Koldo had expected to carry the weight of the battle. This was... This was...

Not fair.

The human sagged against the bed, his head lolling to the side. “Gone,” he sighed with relief. “It’s gone.” He closed his eyes and sank into what was probably his first peaceful sleep in months.

Axel tossed the black-stained weapons back into the air pocket. “Dang, I didn’t mean to do that again.”

Again? “You’ve killed so quickly before?”

“Well, yeah. Every time before. But once, just once, I’d like to only injure my opponent and get a little thrusting and parrying in before I deliver the deathblow. Well, see ya.” Axel flew through the ceiling, disappearing from view.

The man was as much a mess as Koldo. No wonder Axel had been given to Zacharel.

Just how wildly did he teeter at the edge of falling?

As close as Koldo?

Go home.

Good advice, and miracle of miracles, it sprang from his own mind. He meant to heed it. He did. But a single thought changed his mind. The redhead. He wanted to see her. Muscles tensing all over again, Koldo whisked back to the blonde’s hospital room.

Only, the redhead was already gone.

Disappointment hit him first, followed by a new tide of frustration and anger.

He whisked to his home hidden in the cliffs along the South African coast. A flash, the action was called. He’d learned a lot about himself and his abilities since being dropped in the middle of his father’s camp all those centuries ago.

A man will do just about anything to survive, boy. And I’ll prove it to you.

His father’s words—and yes, Nox had indeed proven them.

Just like that, the frustration and anger spilled over, and he roared. He beat his fists against the walls, over and over again, soaking his knuckles in crimson, cracking his bones as well as the stone. Every punch was a testament to a centuries-long rage, a soul-deep pain that had never gone away, and a festering wound he knew would never heal.

He was what he was.

He was what his parents had made him.

He’d tried to be more. He’d tried to be better. Each time, he’d failed miserably. Darkness constantly flooded him, banging against an already unstable dam made of tainted memories and corrosive emotions. A dam he was only able to rebuild after outbursts like this one.

The punching continued until he was panting and dripping in sweat. Until skin and muscles were shredded, and the broken bones exposed. Even still, he could have taken another thousand swings, but he didn’t. He forced himself to exhale with measured precision and imagine a cascade of darkness leaving him.

The dam refortified.

Aches and pains made themselves known, but that was okay. The banging had stopped. For now, that was all that mattered.

He padded across the living room. Along the way he fisted the collar of the dirty robe and yanked the material over his head. He dropped the garment on the floor, wind and dew whipping around him without any hindrance. He had no doors to block the gales, no windows to silence the song of nature; the entire house was open to the elements. Even better, the ceiling, walls and floor had been formed by the elements, presenting a showcase of glittering dark rock.


He stopped at the ledge overlooking a magnificent rushing waterfall pounding into the jagged stone below. Heavy sheets of mist rose from a turbulent sea, enveloping his naked body.

He came here when he desired privacy and peace. The turbulence around him had a way of making his mind seem calmer than it was. The wind kicked up, rattling the beads he’d woven into the length of his beard.

Once upon a time he’d possessed a head of hair to match. Long, thick and black, intricate beadwork woven throughout the prized strands. Now... He scrubbed a hand over the smoothness of his scalp. Now he was bald, his precious hair sacrificed in favor of vengeance.

Now he looked like his father.

Before he could stop it, his mind took him back to one of the many times he’d stood at the bottom of a deep, dark pit, thousands of hissing serp demons slithering over feet that had been flayed like fish...around a neck that had been sliced like Christmas ham.

Serps were very much like snakes, and they had continually sunk their fangs into him, all over him, dripping venom straight into his veins. But through it all he’d stood utterly still, remaining strong, refusing to so much as groan. His father had promised to remove a finger for every sign of weakness he exhibited. And when he ran out of fingers, he had been told he would lose his hands, his feet...his arms and his legs.

Back then, he hadn’t yet reached full maturity—hence the reason his wings had not grown back—and he would have been unable to regenerate the limbs. He would have suffered all of his life, and he—

Beat the ugly memory to the back of his mind, where it belonged. So his father had tortured him for eleven years. So what? He’d been rescued by Sent Ones, and had later become part of an army himself. Not the one he was currently in, but a different one, commanded by the now-deceased Ivar. Back then, Ivar had been the best of the Elite, and being under his command had been an honor.

Yet, in a fit of temper very much like the one he’d just displayed, Koldo had thrown that opportunity away, besting Ivar in front of his men.

Regret still haunted him. Such a lack of respect for such an admirable man...

Koldo had been kicked out of the army and left on his own—for a while. He’d used the time to return to his father’s camp and obliterate everyone and everything.

The single greatest day of his life.

He reached up and gripped the rock above him. Now I’m part of this new army, led by a man once known only as Ice. Tomorrow, Zacharel would have another mission for him, one far below his skill level. Koldo knew this, because his leader had sent him out every day for the past three weeks, allowing him no time to break a heavenly law and bring judgment upon his head. At least, supposedly.

Koldo could lie.

Koldo could steal.

Koldo could kill.

He could do any number of other things their kind was not to do. But he wouldn’t.

Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to worry about being paired with Axel. Zacharel liked to assign him a new partner for every new mission, probably to keep him off-kilter.

Sadly, it was working.

And yet, there was one bright light, he realized. The girl from the hospital in Wichita, Kansas. The redhead. He still wanted to see her.

Surely she wasn’t as tiny as he seemed to remember. For all he knew, she possessed the long, lithe legs of a dancer. Surely her hair wasn’t the sweet color of strawberries. It had to be fire-engine red or an ordinary dark blond. Surely he’d imagined the purity of her tone. Surely.

He straightened, anticipation overshadowing all else. He had to know, the desire a living entity inside him.

First, though, he would have to hunt her down.