A Fire in the Flesh (Flesh and Fire, #3)

Him continuously calling me his soul also displeased me.

“They are to serve me and my gods. Sometimes, that is by serving them drinks. Other times, it is by them…being the drink.” He laughed, clearly enjoying what he believed was a clever joke.

Dear gods. I didn’t know if I would be able to quell my temper and remain a blank canvas until Ash was freed. Because I saw red.

Which meant I wasn’t exactly blank.

“Is that what she chose?” I asked once I knew my voice wouldn’t betray my nearly all-consuming desire to commit bloody, violent murder.

The brief humor vanished from his tone. “Nearly all their choices were made for them from birth.”

My head snapped to the side as I looked up at him.

“I see I hit a nerve,” he observed dryly, glancing toward the servant. “She seems to be enjoying herself.”

The woman strained against the hand between her legs, her eyes closed, and her lips parted. “That means nothing when a bite can bring unwanted pleasure.”

His gaze slid back to mine. The golden flecks had stilled. “I feel as if this has more to do with us than them.”

My back stiffened. “It doesn’t.”

“Lies,” he murmured, sipping from his chalice.

“Okay. Maybe it does a little,” I said. “But that is irrelevant. She was simply walking past him, and he grabbed her. Then bit her. She may have no choice in how she serves the gods, but they could be less cruel, could they not?”

“We all could be less cruel,” he said, the gold beginning to churn in his eyes. “Outside one another and the Priests, the Chosen are forbidden to be touched and spoken to while in the mortal realm.”

“I know.”

“Here, they may be spoken to and touched.” He dipped his chin, a faint grin appearing. “Even fucked.”

I really wished he’d stop saying that fucking word.

“You see a victim,” he said, and my lips pressed together. “I see someone who is starved for what has been forbidden to them their entire life.”

I looked back at the god and servant as her soft cries of climax burned my ears. None of the others paid them any attention. Mainly because several of the gods, including Kyn, now had company.

“What you must think of me…” he said, causing my focus to snap back to him. “I don’t blame you for it. I’m sure you’ve been told many half-truths.”

I took a sip to stop myself from saying something ill-advised. The liquor turned out to be some kind of mulled whiskey, but the hints of apple and cinnamon did very little to ease the burn of the alcohol hitting my stomach.

“The Chosen do have opportunities here,” he continued. “They are offered the choice to shed their veils and serve those within Dalos and in other Courts.”

My brows knitted. “Versus what?”

“Versus Ascending,” he said. Before I could jump on that, he went on. “Her name is Malka, by the way. And his name is Orval.” As he spoke, my focus shifted back to the two. The male lifted his head from her neck, licking blood from his lips. “They are known to each other.”

This Orval leaned into her, speaking into her ear. Malka smiled and looked as if she laughed.

“Known to each other quite well,” Kolis added as I watched the Chosen swat at the god’s arm.

Orval kissed her cheek and then released her. Standing, she straightened her gown.

I exhaled roughly, unsure if I could believe what I saw and heard. Though even if it were true, did servants have a choice? In the mortal realm, they did in some households. In others, even if it appeared they did, they really didn’t.

“And if they weren’t known to each other?” I asked as Malka slipped out the door. I caught sight of a long, darker hall.

“Does it matter?”

I looked at Kolis over my shoulder. “Yes.”

He didn’t respond for a few moments. And, honestly, I’d heard the stories. I knew the answer. Anger still burned through my veins as I turned to gaze at the floor. “What would you do?” he asked. “If her consent was not obtained?”

I looked at him again, saying, “I would make sure it was the last time someone failed to gain another’s consent.”

“And how exactly would you do that?”

“I’d shove a blade straight through their heart.”

Behind Kolis, one of Callum’s painted wings rose, but the false King showed no reaction. “Look to your left, so’lis. Past Naberius.”

“Naberius?”

“The apparently very tired draken,” Kolis replied dryly, and I arched a brow at that. “In the alcove behind him, you will see an occupied ivory chair.”

Frowning, I did as he instructed, searching past Phanos, who spoke with a god, the two draken in their mortal forms, and of course, the sleeping Naberius. I found the ivory chair Kolis spoke of and saw it occupied by an alabaster-skinned god with a servant on his lap—

I lowered the chalice to the floor beside me, my heart kicking against my ribs.

“Her name is Jacinta. She was taken in a Rite two years ago,” Kolis said as I stared at the hand clamped down on her mouth and her wide, frightened eyes. “The one who holds her is Evander. He is several hundred years old and knows how to feed and give pleasure. But that is not what pleases him.”

Kolis tipped forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Pain does.”

Disgust knotted in my throat.

“So now you know,” Kolis said, sitting back.

Slowly, I twisted toward him, our gazes colliding.

“What did you say you’d do?” he said, the golden flecks a strange light in his eyes. “You would shove a blade through their heart?”

“I did.”

“Then you have a choice,” Kolis ordered. “Do as you said and kill him.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Do as you said you would do if you thought someone was being wronged in such a manner. Shove a blade through his heart.” Kolis’s voice filled with challenge. “Unless you are like so many others and speak about what you would do and not what you will do.”

My brows shot up in disbelief. There was no way he thought I wouldn’t shove a blade through someone’s heart when I’d attempted to do it to him. “And if I do this, what will you do?”

“To you?”

I nodded.

“Nothing, my dear.”

I stared at him for a moment, having no idea why he’d offer this to me. Why he’d challenge me to act and kill one of his gods.

Pressing my lips together, I looked back at those in the ivory chair. Jacinta was trembling. If her Rite was two years ago, that meant she was likely close to my age. As a Chosen, she wouldn’t have had much of a life in the mortal realm, but she had been safe. Now, her knuckles were bleached white from how tightly she clenched the god’s arm. Her gaze darted wildly across the Hall as if searching for help. Assistance that obviously wouldn’t come from any of those in this space. Not even Attes and Keella, who were still speaking to each other and likely unaware of what was happening in the shadows. But if they did know, would they step in? Or was this one of those terrible things that Ash had been forced to witness?

Something glittered on Jacinta’s painted cheek—a tear. The breath I took went nowhere.