Stefan picked up Kira-Kira and stopped close enough to me that the air tightened with the touch of frost and burned my throat. He pointed the tip of the sword at my throat. “Leave.”
I flinched. “No.”
“Leave before—” He snapped his head up, eyes narrowing to focus on something behind me.
He didn’t get to finish his warning. A hurricane force gust tossed him back and pinned him against the rock. His glorious wings shattered. Fragments of ice rained against the plateau. The wind picked up, and the debris we’d churned in our melee blasted Stefan. He let out a frustrated cry, hands clutched into fists as he tried to lift himself. Then the wind dropped, and Stefan plummeted to the ground.
Damien stalked through the gap in the ice barrier. His vast, bat-like wings whipped up a storm. Scrambling backward, I stumbled onto my feet, breathless and riddled with paralyzing fear. He flapped his wings and rose with surprising grace to the edge of the plateau where he slid his dead eyes to me and waited.
I glanced back at Stefan. He lay motionless, covered in a thin blanket of ice. I wanted to call out to him, to let him know I needed him, now more than ever. If he was in there, if the man I knew still existed, I needed him to help me. The words never came.
“Come.” Damien held out a hand.
I lifted my chin and faced him. I’d used all the heat available to me. If I wanted to fight him, I would need to call from beyond the veil. If I fought him and won, what would happen to the part of him he’d locked inside of me? Could I survive him rotting at my core? I wanted to kill him. I knew I could. My fingers twitched as I imagined summoning the molten rock beneath the earth’s crust. I’d drown him in it. I grated my sharp teeth. For what he’d done to me and to those other women, I’d take my time when I killed him. He’d scream, and I’d like it. I’d burn every inch of his skin off his flesh and make sure he lived through it.
No. Not yet. I needed him to live for now if I was going to be free of him. I took a step forward and then another. With each step, it became easier. I lifted a black, fire-veined hand and let him close his cool grip around mine. Inside, I locked the most fragile parts of me away and slipped a mask of control and indifference onto my face. He pulled me against him and closed his arms around me.
Shut it down. Shut the pain down. Bury it all inside
. His wings beat the air. My nostrils flared as his ozone scent—like burned electrical cables—filled my head. I rested my head against his mottled skin and squeezed my eyes closed. My body would heal. The memories would fade. They had before. I could survive this, but he would not.
As the wind tore at my face and Damien carried me higher, I opened my eyes just enough to see Stefan’s motionless body below. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. We were both powerful creatures, but our half-human bodies were our weaknesses. And in some cases, our strengths. When Damien had flung Stefan against the rocks, he could have killed him. I couldn’t think that. I’d come so close to finding him, and yet Stefan hadn’t been the man I remembered. I was too late.
I closed my eyes and listened to the beat of Damien’s wings. Perhaps Nica was right. Stefan was gone.
T
he cities
of the netherworld resembled those of the human realm the way that higher demons resemble people, but the reflections are distorted, twisted and broken. Cobbled streets could turn to asphalt when you rounded a corner. Thatched cottages leaned against glass covered high-rises. I’d tried to explain it to Ryder once, and the best I could come up with was it felt like being lost in a theme park at night. Something about the absence of life, the eerie familiarity, and inherent touch of darkness felt deeply malevolent, as though the air and the buildings were all alive. Why Damien had brought me there, I could only guess, and I suspected it had something to do with parading his new toy in front of his peers.
We entered what appeared to be a banquet hall. The vaulted ceiling gave the place a cathedral-like ambience. Torches flickered high up on the walls, and soot hung heavy in the air. A sea of demons rippled. The smell of burned rubber assaulted my nose and coated my throat. The smell of demons. I pulled my wing tight against my back and fell into step behind Damien’s bulk as he carved a path through the crowd. A few hisses reached my ears. My skin prickled. Several demons spat at the floor by my feet. I kept my eyes firmly on Damien’s back, between his wings, where his muscles bunched and flexed. Demons of all shapes and sizes mingled. Claws glinted, talons clicked. The exploratory touch of elements slid over me, fire, earth, ice, air, and something different, an oily element. They all licked at my skin. The power-thick air choked the back of my throat. I fought the urge to gag and gulped the air down instead of breathing it. It was a tinderbox of energy. The potential for madness quivered through the crowd. An unsettling urge to call my power and lash out at them tingled at the tips of my fingers. It would undoubtedly result in my death, but it might just be worth it. I knew these thoughts for what they were: the chaos talking. The unsettling thing was, I liked those whispers. I wanted it. I’d spent no more than two days as a full demon, and already the urges had found purchase in my thoughts. Stefan had spent six months trying to resist.
I stumbled into Damien as he stopped ahead of me. Where his skin brushed mine, slithers of air probed. My stomach flipped, threatening to drop me to my knees and spill my guts in front of a demon horde.
“Go,” he grunted. “Wait for me.” He stalked off toward a gathering of demons, leaving me exposed in a hostile crowd.
Any number of the demons surreptitiously watching me would’ve liked nothing less than to plunge a dagger into my back or tear out my throat. Probably both. I reeked of mortality. A half-blood. An abomination. With just one wing, coupled with my puny human size, the odds were against me. I backed up and bumped into a water demon who huffed and bubbled a growl at me. Head down, I turned and cut through the crowd, heading toward the outer wall. If I could avoid eye contact, there was a chance they’d ignore me. I was so low on their radar that they shouldn’t even acknowledge me.
I slipped out a side door and breathed the comparatively clean night air. I’d stumbled out of the hall into what appeared to be an abandoned town square. A dry fountain at its center sprouted a few purple saplings. I crossed the open ground and sat on the fountain’s edge. I skipped my gaze over the shadows layering the streets and houses huddled around the square, looking for potential threats. I was alone. A few blazing torches hung in brackets along the walls. The only noise came from the mass of demons congregated inside the hall, a low rumbling of gruff voices and strumming energy.
I took a few moments to gather my wits. My thoughts invariably fell to Stefan. Yukki Onna could have warned me. I hadn’t expected him to be the same Stefan I’d met in Boston, but I hadn’t quite expected him to be so far gone either. I’d looked into those eyes and seen only ice. He had to be in there somewhere, but it was going to take more than a polite hello to reach him. I’d hoped he’d at least recognize me, but all he’d seen was a half-blood fire demon trespassing on his territory.
He’d lost control. Out of the two of us, I would never have expected it would be Stefan who would succumb to the lure of chaos. He was always so perfectly in control. He’d worn his control like armor. Not anymore. Ice was his armor now.
“Muse...” I knew that voice. The last time I’d heard it, he’d threatened to kill me and had very nearly succeeded. I slid my gaze to Akil, blinked, and faced ahead again. In those few seconds, time screeched to an abrupt halt. When I closed my eyes for a second time, I saw a blazing imprint of him in my mind as his warmth radiated across my skin. He leaned against the fountain, all subtle charm and masculine potency. Soft hazel eyes belied the monster inside the sculpted avatar of a man. He’d fashioned himself a slate-gray suit, probably for my benefit. Ten years is a long time to live with someone, longer than most marriages last. He saved me once, tutored me, released me. Or so I’d thought. I had loved him as a savior and then as something more carnal. Knowing he stood beside me now, I had to rein in a terrible desire to fling myself into his arms and bawl like the lost little girl Damien had roused in me. It helped to remember Akil was a murderer.
Eyes still closed, I bowed my head. Something was wrong with the imprint in my mind. My memory of Akil didn’t match the man on my left. In Boston, he’d carried an infallible confidence, as though he existed outside the rhyme and reason of mortal man. Anything he wanted—women, wealth, influence—it all danced to his Pied-Piper tune. The extent to which he could manipulate others was one of the reasons I’d left him, thereby sealing my fate. Nobody walks away from the Prince of Greed. But that suave bastard had been lost somewhere among the ravages of the netherworld. The man beside me, alluring as he was, had lost his luster. I examined his mental imprint while time continued to stretch thin. His dark hair was longer than I remembered. He’d slicked it back, lending his features a severe intensity that declared ‘cannot-be-tamed’ without him having to say a word. His white silk shirt had dulled to an over-washed gray. A few buttons were missing. A thread had unraveled at the collar. Even his jacket hung askew. Handsome features hadn’t done him any favors in the netherworld. He was a man on the edge: a beast barely contained inside an alluring male vessel.
I opened my eyes and speared him with my gaze. A tentative smile flirted with his lips, but the fire in his eyes touched my soul.
Akil was the very essence of fire, and my demon adored him. He wore raw elemental power like a mortal man wears cologne, and my demon was hopelessly addicted to him. It was my human half that detested how manipulative, destructive, and downright evil he could be. My humanity kept me real, and it was my humanity that sparked an inferno of rage inside me when I finally decided how to deal with him. He’d killed a friend in cold blood, stabbed him through the chest without a shred of remorse. He’d tried to kill me. I knew what I felt for Akil.
I sprang at him. My fist connected with his jaw. I wasn’t thinking. I was in no fit state to reenact our battle on the waterfront. He grunted and pulled back in time to avoid a second punch that would have broken his nose. Inhuman growls and snarls rumbled up from my depths. I drew my right arm back again, but he snatched my wrist. No matter. I swung an open palmed slap with my left hand and raked my claws down his face. He snarled and caught my other wrist. Blood welled in the gashes. It warmed me to see how I’d hurt him. I wanted more.
I twisting and pulled, but his hands clamped tighter around my wrists. He tugged me forward and tried to envelop me in an embrace. My bruised demon-skin prickled at his touch. I stamped on his scuffed black shoes and jerked a knee toward his groin. He twisted in time to avoid the blow.
“Stop,” he growled.
I wasn’t listening. I didn’t care. It wasn’t about Akil. Some part of me had shattered. I wanted to drive my fists into his chest—into anything—over and over again until whatever I hit crumbled to dust. Or I did. My veins pulsed with heat, and my head throbbed. My jaw locked. I ground my teeth together so hard my face ached. I snarled and snapped, bucked and kicked. I managed to get a hand free and wildly lashed out, connecting with his shoulder hard enough to stagger him.
He caught my free hand and yanked me back against him. His muscular arms encircled me. I tried to writhe free, but every movement gave him leverage to squeeze me tighter into his chest.
“Stop, Muse.” He hissed against my cheek.
My heart thumped in my ears. “I’ll kill you.” I spat the words, but I wasn’t entirely sure they were meant for Akil. I could have pulled the fire right out of his soul, but I hadn’t. This was for me. My eyelids fluttered closed. I twitched and jerked, but my strength had fizzled away. He closed his arms tighter around me, holding me so close I could hear and feel the beat of his heart.
“I need you.” His lips brushed my shoulder, his words cool whispers against my hypersensitive skin.
He smelled of cinnamon and cloves, a spicy warming scent that reminded me of the only home I’d known. I slumped in his arms and bowed my head against him. His crushing grip loosened, his arms relaxed, but he still held me close. I wanted to hate him, I knew I should. Maybe, somewhere inside my ruined mind, I genuinely did. But right then, after what had been done to me, Akil’s embrace felt like freedom.
He radiated a background thrum of power. My fire responded in kind. He’d called to my demon. That was why I’d found a way out of the hall. She—I—had sensed him. It irked me that he could still have any effect on me, but considering the storm of rage, shame, and fear in my head, I had other issues to worry about.
His hand on my lower back splayed. He slid his touch around my waist and eased me away from him. I didn’t want to let go and certainly didn’t want him to see the fear in my eyes. If he thought me weak, I wasn’t sure what he’d do. Six months before, I’d tried to kill him. He’d tried to kill me. Did that make us even?
He hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head back, leaving me no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes smoldered. He breathed hard through his teeth, but it wasn’t anger I saw on his face. Concern, perhaps, hid in his furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. Was that even possible? The cuts across his cheek stitched back together before my eyes.
He dared to touch my face. A trickle of heat danced through my cheek. I snapped my head back and glared up at him. “Don’t touch me. You don’t get to touch me.” I shoved against his chest and extricated myself from his grip.
He maintained a perfectly unreadable expression, but the eyes betrayed him. They harbored an empty sadness so intense it stalled my anger. Akil didn’t do sad eyes. He was steel, an unyielding pillar of strength. For a fire demon, he was damned cold. Sad eyes weren’t in his skill-set.
“What has he done to you?” he asked quietly. He reached out a hand, perhaps expecting me to take it.
I staggered back. He couldn’t touch me. Not yet. My thoughts whirled inside my head. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted those arms to close around me and for him to whisper once more how he needed me, but I hated him. Didn’t I? A blubber escaped my lips. I covered it with a snarl and paced a few strides back and forth. I couldn’t bear the thought of hands on my skin. I closed my eyes and flinched at the devastating memories marching through my mind. I couldn’t pack them away. Old horrors mingled with new ones. I paced.
Akil watched me closely. His gaze wandered over my naked demon body, lingering where the bruises throbbed and cuts healed.
He’d gained a few creases around his eyes, additional worry lines that aged him. Laughable, considering he appeared to be in his thirties but was, in fact, timeless. Had he appeared to me in his true form, as Mammon, I’d likely have lashed out with all the power I had. Nothing about his appearance was an accident. He’d sculpted that body, all steel and honey, to lure in unsuspecting victims.
“What are you doing here?” My words lodged in my throat. I had to growl them out one by one.
“Damien seeks my presence.” Akil ran his fingers across his jaw and winced. “He means to challenge me. It is why all these wretched demons gather.” His voice gained an abrasive edge and with it an undertone of an accent that both intrigued and alarmed me. The changes were subtle. Had I not spent ten years with him, I might not have noticed them, but Akil was different.
“Why now?”
“Apparently...” He took a breath and winced too. “I stole you from him.” He fingered his ribs through his shirt. I’d landed a few well-placed punches.
“I told Damien you made me try and kill him. That it was your fault.” I eyed him closely for his reaction.
He fought a smile, lips twitching. “Whether you or I attempted to kill him, it’s little more than semantics. We failed.”
“How could you not know he still lived?”
He bristled. “I was with you in Boston. Whether he lived or not did not concern me. He was-is insignificant.”
Rage twitched through me. I shoved it back. “It concerned me.”
“Damien is a degenerate beast. I’ll end his existence soon enough.”
A jab of pain stuttered my heart. “Don’t kill him.” I spoke so lightly I wondered if the breeze might sweep the words away before Akil could latch onto them.
He frowned. “Why ever not? I’ve no idea how he came back from death last time, but it won’t happen again.”
I gritted my teeth to stop them from chattering and pinched my lips together, hoping to hide their quivering.
He’d noticed I’d stopped pacing and probably saw something in my expression that tipped him off. “What did he do?” His voice dipped lower, flirting with threats.
I remembered Yukki Onna’s words about how I must have somehow let Damien inside for him to be able to soul-lock me. My skin itched with shame. “He did something, inside.” I scratched my claws down my arms, barely noticing the cuts I left behind. “He’s inside me.”
Akil tipped his head. His eyes narrowed to sharp slits. He took a step toward me. “An infusion? Muse—” He enclosed me in a sudden embrace so uncharacteristically affectionate, that it didn’t occur to me to pull away. I melted against him, flinching as the hardness of his body tugged at unwanted memories of Damien. Akil could take me away from everything, from the netherworld. He could hide me from the worst of it all here, where I understood very little, and nothing understood me. But he understood. He’d saved me before. He could do it again.