Page 10 of Cursed Shadows (Shadow Guardians #2)

DRAGAN

The scent of juniper berries and brimstone carries on the wind, uncommon in a place where soldiers prepare to die in the battle against the false king.

My gaze lifts to take in the sight of the shadow of a supple figure just beyond my tent walls, illuminated by the flickering torches that line the road. In the firelight, the silhouette reveals swollen breasts, a flat stomach, and a round, high ass.

A woman.

How long has it been since I’ve had one?

Fuck.

Sweat beads on my brow as a throbbing need courses through me.

“Liege, are you expecting a visitor?” Thoradin, my lead Centurion, asks.

I’m not, but there’s no way I will refuse a visitor with such a figure. I can only hope her face lives up to the promise of her body.

Thoradin nods and leads the woman inside.

My breath catches.

She’s not a woman, but a she-demon. A Succubus.

And she’s stunningly beautiful.

She saunters through the opening of the tent, her hips swaying in time with the bounce of her unrestrained breasts. The scent of her grows stronger.

She favors me with a smile, and I feel my heart rate increase.

Cambion reaches for his weapon until I stay his hand with a single glance. His glaring eyes fix on me with unspoken questions. But my attention is riveted on the lovely creature with inky-black hair that cascades past her waist.

She raises her chin in defiance.

“I am Lamia, Queen of the Succubae.” Her voice is colored with an accent that curls around each word like smoke to flame.

Queen , I muse. More like goddess. Never have I looked upon a creature as beautiful as she.

“I thought the Succubae extinct,” I say in response. I don’t offer my name or title, because she’s already aware of both. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come.

Her pitch-black eyes narrow and her breathing increases. I’ve angered her.

I’m amused with her irritation. I admire the flush it brings to her cheeks, the way her nostrils flare and her eyebrows furrow.

“Nearly extinct,” she corrects me.

Then, as though remembering herself, she inhales, allowing the anger to bleed from her expression. When she faces me again, it’s with the semblance of a smile. I fight to keep my attention on her eyes, but she’s wearing a long and tight black gown made of some iridescent fabric that grips her curves and reveals the tiny pebbles of her alert nipples. Half her milky white breasts are exposed as the cut of the gown plunges dramatically—right down to her navel.

“Why have you come?” Cambion demands, his voice heated, untrusting.

I’m not surprised, for Cambion is a bastard, through and through.

“I have come to discuss the false king,” she states smoothly.

“Why?” Cambion insists.

“Because Variant is a threat to us all,” she purrs in a sultry cadence, causing chill-bumps to prick my flesh.

A chorus of displeasure reverberates through the tight confines of the tent and I am well aware that each man’s attention is riveted on her. Growing jealous, I send the centurions away, leaving only Cambion, myself, and Lamia.

I cross my arms over my chest and caution a step toward the newcomer. Light dances in her obsidian gaze, the faint glow accentuating the sharp contours of her regal features.

Her pink tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, and instinct calls for me to lean forward and claim her mouth with my own.

God, how I want to taste her.

“Our plans are settled,” Cambion hisses through tightly clenched teeth. His dislike for her is as apparent as his Elvin ears. “State your purpose in being here and then be on your way.”

There’s venom in his words, so much that it surprises me. As an elf, Cambion is naturally suspicious of those with dark magic, but this reaction is a bit much—even for the pompous son of a bitch.

I clench my fists at my sides, shifting impatiently on the heels of my booted feet.

Lamia doesn’t react to Cambion’s discourtesy. Instead, her lips curl into a wicked little smirk that sets my blood aflame. Every fiber of my being urges me to pin her hips to the ground and fuck her until she’s writhing with pleasure.

But I compose myself.

For the time being.

She walks past me, lifting her hand to brush my arm before coming to stand in front of the war table. Planting both palms on the table, she leans over, allowing us both to ogle her breasts which are now on full display. I glance at Cambion and notice him staring at her with obvious interest until he catches me catching him and clears his throat, forcing his eyes away with a frown.

I can’t help my grin. The righteous cock could stand to be knocked down a peg or twelve.

I return my attention to the red rosebuds of Lamia’s nipples. I want nothing more than to suck them while my fingers...

“My daughters and I are the last of our kind.”

“And why is that?” Cambion asks with no hint of empathy.

“Variant slaughtered my people.” She speaks the words with venom, her jaw held tight. Standing up straight, she spears both Cambion and me with an expression difficult to place. Then she inhales deeply as she focuses her gaze entirely on me. A slight smile grabs the corners of her mouth.

“If you’ve come to us looking for sympathy, you’ve come to the wrong place,” Cambion says and I frown at him. The truth is that I’m sick to death of his pissy fucking attitude. He’s been nothing but a thorn in my side since Variant decided to usurp control for himself.

“Sympathy is a useless emotion.” Lamia spits the words back at him.

“Then why have you come?” I ask in a soft voice.

She faces me and nods. “I suppose you could say I have a vendetta against Variant.”

“We aren’t interested in your vendettas,” Cambion growls and eyes the entrance to the tent to give her a hint, in no uncertain terms.

She turns a cool expression on him. “But you are interested in defeating Variant, no?”

Cambion doesn’t respond but crosses his arms against his chest and huffs an irritated breath. Lamia’s smile deepens.

“I can help you defeat him,” she continues. “He trusts me.”

Cambion scoffs bitterly, shaking his head. “I know how your kind persuades men, and Variant is no fool. He’s aware of the power of the Succubus as much as any of us are.”

“This is true,” Lamia states with a quick nod as she begins walking around the war table, looking down at our map and strategically placed pawns with little interest. She runs her hand down the side of the table and pauses over the pawn of the King of Shadow. Lifting the iron piece, she smiles at it as though she’s amused. Then she looks up at me and shakes her head.

“You are far more… physically impressive in real life,” she remarks.

I don’t respond, but I also notice she doesn’t return the piece to the table. Instead, she palms it and continues pacing.

“Yes, I am well-trained in the art of seduction,” she goes on, looking pointedly at Cambion.

“Trained?” he asks facetiously. “There’s no training where a Succubus is concerned. You were born with your abilities.”

She laughs a throaty sound. “Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that I have, through my own wiles, become close to Variant.”

“And how did you manage that?” presses Cambion. “You just said yourself he destroyed your people.”

She nods and her eyebrows reach for the ceiling of the tent. “Yes, he did destroy my people and he took me as his prisoner.”

“And yet you were still able to get close to him?” he laughs acidly, shaking his head at me as if to ask if I believe this drivel.

So far, I do.

“You said yourself a Succubus’ power is in her ability to seduce?” Lamia questions Cambion, watching him with a strange little smile. Her expression suggests she knows something Cambion doesn’t.

“Yes,” he coughs out.

“Over the many months I spent as Variant’s captive, I watched him. I learned. I came to understand what caused him unrest and what pleased him.”

“You watched Variant, a king, from your cell in his dungeon as his prisoner?” Cambion turns to me and frowns. “We are wasting valuable time listening to this nonsense when we could be strategizing.”

“I was never placed in his dungeon,” Lamia nearly interrupts him. She closes the distance between them and smiles as his gaze settles on her breasts. He clears his throat and angrily forces his eyes to hers.

“Then where were you placed—” Cambion starts, but she shuts him up quickly as her gaze drops from his face to his crotch. He clears his throat again.

“Variant found a use for me,” she replies in a deep, sultry voice that characterizes her kind.

“You’re telling us you were Variant’s whore?” Cambion demands, glaring at her.

“I was Variant’s lover . And, in the course of being his lover, I listened and I paid attention. I grew to understand him—his motivations, his weaknesses, as well as his strengths. Over the many months he used my body, he began to lower his defenses. He opened up to me, speaking to me about those things he could not or chose not to discuss with his men.”

“Next I suppose you’ll tell us Variant fell in love with you?” Cambion’s tone is mocking.

“No, no.” Lamia shakes her head and a laugh escapes her lips. When she looks up again, the smile falls off her mouth. “I do not believe Variant capable of love.”

“Perhaps she knows him better than you think,” I admit with a chuckle. Cambion glares at me.

Lamia smiles in my direction, dropping her gaze demurely. The coquettish subservience is all an act, however, for she is a demon and as powerful as either Cambion or myself.

“Variant began to trust me,” she continues as she resumes her pacing around the war table. “And over the many months of my incarceration, his trust led to… friendship, I suppose you could term it.” She finds the pawn that represents Variant and picks it up, inspecting it. “And now, I am free to come and go as I please,” she says as she places the piece in the center of what represents the ocean. “I am no longer Variant’s prisoner. But I have chosen to stay with him to further prove my loyalty.”

“Yet here you are,” Cambion cuts in.

“Yet here I am,” she repeats on a sigh.

“Why?” I ask.

She looks up at me then and nods. “All these many months, I have sat with my anger and sorrow. I have learned what it means to hate, to resent. But rather than acting upon my fury and hatred, I’ve allowed it to simmer just below the surface as I bide my time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “Prior to my incarceration at the hands of Variant, I would never have described myself as a patient woman.”

“And now?” I wonder.

With a laugh, she begins her rounds again. This time, she pauses in front of Cambion’s iron piece sitting on the table, but before she can touch it, Cambion steals the piece himself. He reminds me of a petulant child, unwilling to share.

“Now, I believe myself to be the absolute model of patience.” She rests her gaze on Cambion. “I have waited. Postponed my anger and my need for retaliation, but all the while, I promised myself retribution for the destruction of my people and my kingdom. I’ve silently plotted my revenge, and now that the time has come for action…” Her voice trails as she turns and walks a few steps away from us. With her back to me, I can see that her hair reaches down to her lower waist, ending just above her round and high cheeks. All I can imagine is tearing the black gown away from her and spreading those cheeks wide so I can run my tongue…

“She can’t be trusted,” Cambion says to me, in a whispered tone.

At the thought I might not experience her flesh, anger begins simmering inside me. “You are so quick to distrust.”

“We don’t know who the fuck she really is or where she came from,” Cambion continues, his voice still low. Lamia faces away from us, but I’m certain she’s listening.

“Enough!” I snap. There’s a flash of hurt in the elf’s eyes, but only for a moment.

Cambion circles the table and bumps into me on his way out of the tent. “I’ve had enough time wasting,” he says.

“Who am I to deny this woman the right to seek retribution against the asshole who killed her people?” I ask him.

Pausing with his hand clutching the tent folds in a white-knuckle grip, he turns to speak to Lamia directly. “You hold no loyalty to Variant and his army?”

“None. I wish to see him dead as much as you do.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he says in anger, his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight.

Lamia appears unfazed by his show of ire. “My daughters and I are all that remains of our race. Do you think I would ally myself with the bloodthirsty beast that all but forced us into extinction? No one in the realms has gone untouched by his wrath—including the Succubae.”

“How can you prove you can be trusted?” Cambion questions skeptically. “We are leaders, kings even, not pathetic wastrels you can seduce into submitting to your treachery.” A muscle twitches in his jaw.

Lamia whispers something difficult to distinguish, but moments later Thoradin appears at the entrance to the tent with two other Succubae. The other she-demons are younger than Lamia, their eyes not quite as soulless black. They’re just as beautiful, though different in their beauty. One shares Lamia’s raven tresses and appearance. The other is dissimilar enough to appear unrelated.

“These are my daughters, Santrewa and Glodonia,” Lamia announces. Both beauties curtsey to Cambion and me. Cambion has a difficult time pulling his attention from Glodonia, the red-haired stunner.

Cambion needs nothing more than a good fuck to ease the tension he’s constantly shoveling my way. Maybe this visit is more fortuitous than I supposed.

I smirk in spite of myself.

“Glodonia still possessed her innocence when we were taken prisoner,” Lamia explains, her attention strictly on Cambion. I notice Glodonia drops her head and stares at the ground. “I was forced to watch Variant take her maidenhead. Then, upon sealing her with his seed, he allowed each of his men to take their turn as she begged them to stop. She has not been the same since.”

I feel my eyes widen. I hadn’t imagined it possible to rape a Succubus, but clearly, I was mistaken. The young girl will not meet my gaze. “I am sorry to hear this, Glodonia,” I tell her anyway. Then, I address her mother. “You have my word that none of my men will lay a hand on any of you.”

Cambion says nothing, his jaw just as tight as it was earlier. Santrewa eyes me with a secretive expression that suggests she not only dislikes my announcement but hopes it to be untrue. Clearly, she’s following in her mother’s footsteps.

Mother and daughter… hmm…

“They are all that is left of my lineage,” Lamia continues, motioning to her daughters. “I risk their lives by bringing them here, not knowing whether you are enemy or ally. Trust must go both ways.” She faces Cambion when she finishes speaking.

He appears unimpressed.

Lamia cocks her hip in a way that makes the span of her waist seem impossibly small—perfect for a man to wrap his hands around as he takes her from behind.

Cambion approaches me then and grips my shoulder. He shakes his head slowly as he whispers: “Don’t be a fucking idiot. Succubae are trouble.”

“You won’t get close enough to deal a killing blow without our help,” Lamia insists. “And imprisonment will mean nothing to Variant. The Seelie Court will never be able to hold him captive if he’s found guilty of betraying the oath. Not when he has the backing of the Unseelie Court.”

“Found guilty?” Cambion repeats. “It’s obvious he’s guilty! He stole the fucking crown for himself! It’s clear to anyone with half a brain that Variant is a sniveling little…”

I spin Cambion around and shove him out of the tent. I’ve had enough of him and his constant shitty attitude.

When we’re out of earshot of Lamia and her daughters, I unload on him.

“Not everyone in the realms believes in us,” I remind him. “Variant has followers, people who are loyal to him even beyond his army of angels. Your own fucking brother fights beneath Variant’s banner.” Cambion winces at the reference, but it’s one he needs to hear all the same. “We may not be given an opportunity like this again.”

“Our plans are already in place,” Cambion argues. “We don’t need the Succubae.”

“If we can’t get close enough to Variant to kill him, all our carefully-constructed plans and strategies will be for nothing. You know that.”

“We don’t need them,” he repeats.

“I believe we do.”

Leaving Cambion to his irritation, I return to the tent just as the others are leaving. Lamia shifts, pressing her ample breasts together, which causes my mouth to salivate as though I’m tempted by the promise of sweet confections.

“I can get you close to him,” she reminds me as she follows me back inside the tent. “Only you can defeat him, Shadow King.” I throw myself into my chair and watch her as she speaks. It’s now just the two of us. “Long before Variant rose to power, it was you who struck fear into the hearts of my people,” she whispers, and she looks up at me in awe.

I roll my shoulders, my chest puffing out with pride. She’s correct, of course. Prior to Variant’s treachery, I was the most powerful of the four kings.

As her lips curl into an appreciative smile, Lamia’s eyes slither from my head to my feet, watching as my muscles flex and strain against the fabric of my shirt.

“And what would you like in return?” I demand as I stand and make my way to her, crowding her space until the aroma of her arousal thickens the air.

“Revenge,” she whispers. “Revenge for my people, for my daughters. Revenge for myself.”

I breathe her in like a rare fragrance, practically tasting her. Even so, as I lean forward to chase her teasing tongue, she presses her palm flat to my chest to hold me at bay. I cover her hand with my own and she slides her long, elegant fingers from beneath mine, tucking a folded piece of paper into my hand.

“Read it once I leave,” she says.

“What is it?” I demand, irritated that she’s delayed my gratification.

“It’s the location where I propose we meet to end this war before the battle begins,” she whispers. “I ask that you meet me there in one hour’s time so we may speak… uninterrupted,” she finishes with a small smile. I understand what she’s offering—herself. “With Variant’s fall, you shall rise again.”

I close my eyes to savor the feel of her warmth seeping into my body. She runs her delicate fingers down the side of my face and when I open my eyes, I find her retreating. A few seconds later, I’m alone. I walk to the entry of the tent and step outside, but there’s nothing and no one to see.

I glance down at the paper in my hand. Unfolding it, I see a crudely drawn map. The directions are easy enough to follow. I retrieve my armor with haste and escape the flickering light within my tent.

Summon Mist , I command.

Roiling fog hovers above my boots before shrouding me in a darkness that rivals even that of the grim night. Soundlessly, I venture closer to the location where Lamia awaits my arrival.

I will be the one to end Variant.

Hope flares in my heart, but it’s faint in comparison to the lust that coils in my veins.

The glory of battle shall be mine to claim... and the Queen of the Succubae with it.

***

Gnarled, twisting trees obscure Lamia from sight, but it’s her scent that leads me to her. She blinks her large eyes at me as I approach, and I note the path of her fingers as they trace the seam of her gown. Those tantalizing fingers pull one strap at a time off her shoulders until her milky white breasts are exposed to my hungry gaze.

The fabric falls from her body to pool at her feet. The view of her is enough to make a lesser man drop to his knees, but I’m no weakling. I let my helmet fall to the sodden earth as my eyes drink their fill of her lush curves.

She will come to me. Not the other way around.

After she walks the few steps that separate us, she assists me in peeling away my gear. I suck in a breath at the touch of her hand against my bare skin. Never before has a woman beguiled me so.

I step out of my boots and follow her descending form to the ground, cushioned by the pile of cloth we’ve discarded. The tight buds of her nipples beg for my mouth and I’m helpless to deny them.

Lamia’s back arches beneath me, hips bucking to rub her silken core against my abdomen. She sighs into the night and it sends tingles down my spine. I cover her abdomen with wet, open-mouthed kisses, trailing down her stomach. My tongue traces her navel before continuing down to the place where her nectar flows.

I spread her tender folds with skilled fingers as I blow cool air on her weeping flesh. Lamia runs her fingers through my hair, tugging slightly.

“Tell me what you want,” I instruct.

Her back bows and she attempts to grind her mound against my chin, but I force her hips to the ground. “Tell me what you want, or you get nothing,” I growl low in my chest.

“Your mouth. I want your m—oh, yes!”

Her thighs tremble beside my ears as she fights my hold even as she grinds her hips against my tongue in an erotic little dance, matching the pulse of my fluttering tongue. Her flavor explodes in my mouth as I set upon her like a starving man presented with a cornucopia of provisions.

“Yes, my king!”

I suck her femininity, as she loses herself in the pleasure I offer. My fingers slide into her spasming channel and she clenches around them as though she’s trying to pull me deeper inside.

I crawl up her body, leaving my fingers buried within her, and finally steal the kiss I’ve been yearning for since she first appeared in my tent. My thick fingers curl inside her, stroking her walls while my other hand fists my raging erection, positioning the crown at her entrance. She stills, closing her eyes as I push forward and my tip spreads her outer lips.

I push harder. The pulsating head of my cock stretches her muscles until I’m seated within her entirely. Warmth wraps around me like liquid fire. I keep her on edge, enjoying the way she shivers as I withdraw only to snap my hips forward in a punishing thrust. Nails scrape down the length of my back, urging me on as I set a rhythm. Heat and lightning spark at the base of my cock and I chase my release.

Lamia screams as her legs shake and an orgasm claims her. Closing my eyes, I fuck her through the height of her climax until I spill my seed into her quivering womb. As soon as I release myself, light explodes behind my eyelids, but it’s not pleasurable.

This light feels wrong, tainted and hypnotic.

As icy tendrils claw their way into my gut, I feel the need to wretch up my insides. Pain encompasses my entire being, and my feet suddenly feel as if they’re miles from my head. When I open my eyes, I see Lamia smiling up at me.

She whispers, “My people were killed because they were weak . They refused to fight with Variant, the One. True. King.”

A cackle fills my mind as I scramble to get away, but it’s too late.

Like a leech attached to its victim, Lamia sucks the strength from my body until I’m a quivering mess, unable to so much as roll over. A dark song echoes in the recesses of my thoughts, holding me captive and binding me to the vile demon that rests beneath me. The blackness takes over my vision and I lose myself to the incessant depth of the abyss.

Suddenly, my eyes blink open and I can see again. But the images my eyes report don’t make sense to my confounded brain. I’m standing perhaps ten feet from Cambion in a large and open space. Pine trees surround us along the perimeter. I turn to take in my surroundings when the blasts of gunfire cause my heart to jackhammer. This is a battlefield. I don’t understand where I am or how I came to be here. I whirl around again, taking in the flaming scene I find myself immersed in. Fire erupts, scorching the land beneath our feet as Cambion comes barreling toward me.

“Look what you’ve done!” he yells.

Around us, screams pierce the sky as our men fall beneath the might of our enemy. The forces under Variant’s command release a battle cry that causes the world to quake.

“This is your fault,” Cambion roars. He points to the petite figure standing beside the false king.

Lamia.

Unhindered rage boils in my gut as I take in her smug expression, the way her elbow interlocks with Variant’s. All I can see now is Lamia—the witch who misled me, beguiled me, bewitched me.

I stomp away from Cambion, my gaze fixed on the demoness. Holding my broadsword aloft, I carve a bloody path through anyone who stands in my way.

Lamia and Variant wear smiles upon their faces as each of them stares at me in turn.

I shake my head, trying to clear away the cobwebs that cloud my memory.

Why don’t I remember anything? What happened after the she-demon bewitched me? How is it that one moment I was buried within her and the next, I’m here?

I feel a hand snake around my arm and I spin around, ready to make quick work of whoever blocks me from my duty. Cambion glares at me and drops his hold. “We must retreat. If we don’t, we won’t have a chance in hell!”

I shake my head. “I must end this!”

“Listen to me!” the elf commands, his eyes going wide amid the black soot and dirt that covers his face.

“I don’t understand what’s happening!” I scream back at him. All I do understand is this driving force, this pushing need to destroy the woman who attempted to destroy me.

“We’re losing!” Cambion throws the words back at me. “We’re fucking losing! That’s what’s happening!”

I shake my head, unable to understand how this could be. “I don’t remember,” I admit in a small voice as I look down at my hands and fail to recognize my sword, though I know it belongs to me, all the same.

“It was you who convinced us to fight alongside the Succubae,” Cambion explains, his voice calmer now that he realizes I’ve been bewitched and I’ve just now woken from this nightmare. “We rode into war together, but that whore was controlling you!” He points to Lamia, where she and Variant stand, not thirty feet from us.

“Controlling me?” I repeat, still shaking my head. “Last I remember, I was fucking her and… and then…”

Cambion pushes against my shoulders as though he’s trying to move me. But failing, he gives up.

“If we fall... if we lose this battle, all of this blood is on your hands!” he yells at me, slamming his index finger into my chest. “You made me believe she would turn the tides of war, that—”

“I have to be the one to kill Variant!” I repeat the words that suddenly drill through my head, as though they’re the answer to our quandary, as though me being the one to kill Variant will destroy this confusion that’s taken root inside my head. “Lamia says I’m the only one who can...”

Cambion takes a step back, narrowly missing a blade that slashes out at him from a nearby enemy I didn’t even notice was present. He counters the next blow with ease and decapitates the soldier.

“She’s still controlling you,” he says, shaking his head and inhaling deeply.

“No longer,” I yell as I push on, weaving through the bodies that clash into one another. All I can see is Variant. Variant standing there with that smug fucking smile of his. Variant with Lamia beside him. His arm is around her and the two of them mock me as one, laughing and pointing.

A break in rank allows a rare opportunity. Instantly, I go on the attack, charging up the small incline of a hill. Variant stands at the top. When I reach him, Lamia steps in front of him and renders me paralyzed. I stand there, helpless, as she taunts my very existence. I hate her! God, how I fucking hate her! I want to destroy her, want to sever that fucking head off her shoulders. And yet, I can’t wield my blade against her.

I can’t kill her.

“He’s a traitor,” I grouse as I motion to Variant with my sword. “A murderer who turned against his brothers and slew one of us in cold blood. And for what?” I ask emptily, my eyes searching Lamia’s, trying to make her see the truth of the false king. She doesn’t respond, so I continue. “For greed.” I take a breath. “What makes you think he won’t do the same to you?”

“Because I’m not expendable.”

Little does she know—everyone is expendable in Variant’s eyes.

She narrows her eyes and I feel the snare of her power pulling me to her. The tendrils of her magic surround me, sinking into my flesh. Blackness swarms my vision once more as I fight her for control of myself. But her power is incredibly strong.

“Bow to your king,” Lamia orders as Variant cups one of her breasts beneath her gown. Her nipple instantly hardens and he pinches the rosebud as I try to look away but my fucking eyes won’t allow me.

“Bow,” Lamia repeats.

No fucking way! I scream inwardly. I will not fucking bow to this desecration…

But her words act as an order to a body who can’t deny them. Something breaks within me and I feel my knees bending as I drop my sword and fall to my knees, bowing before the false king and the bitch at his side.

“Dragan, no!” Cambion’s voice yells from the distance.

But it’s too late.

My lips curls with unabashed hatred.

Variant grips my chin and turns my head, forcing me to watch as the last of our forces submit. The wounded pride in Cambion’s eyes is too much and I look away, guilt weighing heavily on my putrid soul.

We have lost.

And I am to blame.

***

At first, my banishment to the Gorge in the Shadow Realm feels like a blessing because I have only the darkness to face. And the darkness is much easier to look upon than the disappointment in Cambion’s eyes, or the death stare of Baron’s…

Baron.

I can’t bring myself to think of him… murdered.

But my solitude is not for long. Lamia isn’t done with me yet.

As Variant’s Stewart of Shadow , her sole purpose is to keep me sedated and, as such, less of a threat to the false king. She and her daughters subdue me by feeding upon me all hours of the night and day. I’m no longer the ruler of my own realm, but a pawn of Variant’s making.

I fucking hate him almost as much as I hate myself.

Each day, I awaken to the sight of a Succubus using my body for her pleasure as much as her nourishment. And I’m incapable of denying any of them. With a touch, my cock hardens to their liking and even though I abhor my traitorous body, it can’t ignore their call.

I’m victim even as I shove my erection into each of them, loving the feel of their slickness and the way their flesh wraps around my stiffness. I take them all three together, I take them separately. I fuck them numerous times a day. As soon as I feel my strength returning, one of them is there to suck it away from me again.

The king I had once been, lowered to the rank of a glorified fuck doll.

They use me, torment me... humiliate me until shame is all I know and all I believe I will ever feel.

And, though I hate them, I love the feel of their flesh as I push into them. I love Lamia’s mouth and the way she sucks out my seed. I love Glodonia’s pert young breasts and the tightness of her slick entrance, the way it clings to me. I love how Santrewa palms my cock and strokes it up and down, even as she whispers to me that I’m weak and hardly a man.

Their power cradles me in tender submission, muffling the memories of watching our legions diminish.

But, this day, all of that changes…

***

A surge of epiphany, or perhaps fate, holds me in its clutches as the warm spray of blood covers my face. I’ve been prisoner too long and my hatred has grown to such a point that it, alone, provides my strength.

Like an Old Norse berserker, I’m nothing more than the ire that drives me. I’ve shed any remaining vestiges of kindness or mercy. Now, the only force within me is one of pure malevolent darkness. Pure wrath. And this darkness feeds my shadow magic, fueling me with a strength I thought long dead.

I pull my blade through Santrewa’s throat and watch her struggle against death as her life-blood empties from her body. I step out of the way of the river of red, lest it soak my feet in her putrescence.

The dead Succubus tumbles to the floor as I free myself from the confines of the fine silk bedding—bedding which was once the color of a peacock’s plumage but is now as red as Glodonia’s hair.

Speaking of the red-haired witch, her horrific screams fill my ears, rattling around my brain and causing me increased agitation. She attempts to flee, but I easily grab her wrist and yank her towards me. Her eyes are wide as the blade enters her sternum, and I rip it upwards, puncturing one of her lungs and her heart.

The bloodlust within me is thrilled. Yes, I want her to suffer, I want her to feel the same pain she, her mother, and her sister inflicted on me all these endless fucking years.

Lamia throws the bedroom doors open wide and screams when she realizes I’ve murdered her daughters. Fury colors her features, followed by dread, which is quickly replaced with sharp focus. She approaches me as she begins to spin her beguiling sexual web, all the while venom drips from her eyes.

Before she can touch me and lay waste to my plan, I throw the blade at her. It sinks into her belly with the sound of a knife carving into a melon. She falls to the ground and reaches for the hilt of the sword, attempting to free it.

I approach to stand above her before throwing all of my weight into my right foot as I slam it down atop the pommel of the blade. The sword further sinks into the Succubus and blood begins to drip from one side of her mouth.

I feel a smile take hold of my mouth as I watch Lamia die and with her, all of the memories, the shame, the humility, the pain. A laugh escapes my lips as she splutters, choking on the blood coming up her throat. And when she turns her lifeless gaze to the side and focuses on nothing, I step away.

Scarlet liquid spreads across the floor, connecting the three corpses in a triangular shape.

I laugh harder and the sound echoes through the room, loud enough that Thoradin appears in the doorway. His eyes widen momentarily as he takes in the scene of devastation. He says nothing but simply nods for he understands.

“The last of the Succubae,” I manage on an exhale, steping away from the river of red. “The extinction of a vile, demonic race,” I finish. And that extinction has come to be at my hands.

That bitter numbness that’s lingered for so long finally begins to fade. And in its place, I feel hunger. A hunger for Variant’s blood, for retribution of my own.

I raise my arms, allowing the blood on my hands to drip down the lines of my arms. I open my mouth wide and yell: “I am the King of The Realm of Shadow... and now, I am free!”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BARON

Mortal Realm

My companions’ legs are weak and their stomachs rumble.

Luckily for the two gargoyles, they don’t turn to stone even though they’re no longer in the Shadow Realm. As I understand, the angel is the reason they’re able to travel through the Mortal World and not succumb to what would otherwise be a stone imprisonment. But, though they don’t surrender to the curse Variant placed upon them, they do play prisoner to their own growling stomachs.

As I am vampire, I don’t feel the pain of hunger or muscular exhaustion. The only hunger pangs that call to me are of the bloodlust variety. But, even my bloodlust has been and remains silent. I imagine this feeling of satiation has everything to do with the woman, Eilish. I’m feeding off her somehow…yet, I’ve never sampled her blood. It’s her life energy that somehow fuels me. I can’t pretend to understand, so I don’t.

Before setting off on this quest to create a Transmutation Stone , I’d taken a few provisions from Master Ash, but the tart apples and stale bread have done little to sustain my companions. Still, I’m grateful to the man.

A century ago, when I was roused from my grave, Master Ash was the one to find me in my half-awakened state. With no knowledge, no possessions, and no connections, I was helpless.

I still don’t know how he found me. He only ever cryptically replied, “I have a knack for finding those who need me.”

In payment for his long-ago service, I acquire medicine and antidotes for his patients. Debts are not something I like to keep, and I’ve also come to try to avoid calling on Master Ash. But, in this case, it was necessary.

Even with Master Ash’s donation in the bellies of my companions, we reach the new realm hungry and tired. Well, they are hungry—I, strangely, am not, which is perplexing considering I have not fed in quite a while.

I find my gaze shifting to the angel crossbreed but I’m not surprised. She is beautiful. But she is far more than her pretty face and voluptuous body. The angel, as I mentioned, is a crossbreed as revealed by the fact that perhaps twenty minutes earlier, when she was coming back from the brink of death, large and hooked wings escaped her back, as black as the dark of night.

Succubus wings.

“Cambion, what do you require to craft the Transmutation Stone ?” I ask the elf king as I look around warily. We’ve cloaked ourselves in disguise, but it does little to reassure me of our security. Variant’s emissaries will no doubt expect our masks and their perception will be improved as a result. It’s an uncomfortable feeling to not have stealth on my side. My weapon of choice, before any poison or blade, is my ability to remain hidden. Traveling with this group, I feel far more exposed than I’d like.

Truth be told, I’ve questioned the intelligence of my decision to remain among them. In general, I prefer my own company and I rely only upon myself. Regardless, this quest is an important one: the Transmutation Stone could be the answer to my missing memories…

While the crossbred angel is also unaware of her past, it would seem her memories may be more easily restored to her than mine to me. There appears to be a block of some sort within her head that disallows her from recalling her past. I’m fully convinced this block was orchestrated on purpose, and that purpose could have been to protect her from knowing too much about herself—information which could prove dangerous when in the hands of the wrong people.

My own missing memories are a bit more… complicated. As a Revenant, I escaped the bonds of death when I was brought back from the grave. My life, as I know it, began at the point I dug myself out of my splintered wooden coffin.

I wonder if my memories have been denied me, never to be resurrected again. Perhaps they are simply nothing more than vignettes of another life, one that is long gone, never to be returned? I sorely hope not for I’ve wanted nothing more than to understand who I was, so I can better understand who I now am, and the reason I was returned to this bitter existence.

“ Serren Wood, Riverine, Kheferu, and Hizagkuur …” Cambion says, his voice trailing off until he grows quiet once more.

Already, I feel a cold sense of dread begin to leach the feeling from my fingers. Two of the metals are currently in my bag, but the Serren Wood and the Riverine will be difficult to locate. Serren trees grow only in the Fae Realm. And Riverine , a rock, can only be collected from enchanted streams that exist in the Mortal and Fae Realms simultaneously—the nearest of which, the Mirror Stream, is perhaps two hours away.

“Flumph, do you remember when Cambion said you have yet to be useful?” I ask, turning to the sprite.

He does nothing but prattle on endlessly and I’m at my wit’s end.

“I remember,” he grunts.

“Now is your opportunity to prove your usefulness. It will take us too long to collect the Riverine by foot, and we must limit our time in this realm as much as possible.”

“So what am I ‘sposed to do ‘bout it?” he asks in that grating manner of his.

“You possess wings,” I respond with little humor. “Fly to the Mirror Stream, collect the Riverine and return with it. Post haste.”

“Do I gotta?” His small voice is heavy with dread.

“Yes,” I answer simply.

“Crafting the stone will take nearly a day once we secure the materials,” Cambion adds. “The longer we remain in the open, the more we’re exposed to Anona. We must get the supplies as quickly as possible and return to the Shadow Realm where we can more easily hide.”

“They’re right,” agrees Dragan, nodding his head and giving the sprite an expression that warns the creature not to trifle with him. “Flumph, you have your mission.”

Flumph shudders at the mention of Anona. With good reason—Anona is a demon who answers to Variant and is heavy on our heels. The last thing we need is a row with her and her henchmen. In our weakened state, I doubt we’d prevail.

The heavy sprite appears reluctant, but as he turns to face the angel, his expression changes into something that resembles determination. His usually slumped shoulders straighten, and he rises a little taller in the air.

“I’m gonna do it!” he announces.

After the sprite departs, the remaining members of our party start back along the road toward the Tree Of Shadows, which will lead us back to the Shadow Realm. We walk in silence, anxious that we’ve sent our least reliable and most incapable member to his potential doom. No one voices their concern, but the general attitude is one of anxiety.

I find my attention consistently returning to Eilish. She’s Succubus. Of that, I’m convinced. I recognized her wings the moment I saw them. Yes, Succubae have been extinct for decades, or so I’ve been told. But I’ve also studied dark magic, and I’ve seen enough drawings to realize just what I was looking at.

As a Succubus, she’s also a demon—but she’s a particular type of demon. Her strength is in her ability to seduce. And without even realizing it, she’s been seducing the three of us since we came into contact with her. A Succubus derives her strength from the life energy she leaches from men by having sex with them. I can only wonder if Dragan has already had her, which might better explain his foul mood. Nothing like expecting to fuck an angel and finding yourself with a demon instead.

I, myself, find the whole situation quite comical, actually.

As regards the question of whether or not Dragan has intimate knowledge of the girl, I had witnessed Dragan and Eilish in a state of undress only recently when they shared a bedchamber at Master Ash’s, but seeing them thus wasn’t proof that anything carnal happened. Not that it even matters, I suppose. I don’t care whether he’s bedded her or not.

The only thing I do care about, the only purpose that drives me, is revenge. Revenge against Variant. And I believe this angel crossbreed is the answer to defeating Variant, because she has power within her that none of us has yet to fully understand. Even Eilish doesn’t understand just who she is and what she’s capable of.

My thoughts return to the moment I followed Cambion into Eilish’s bedchamber. As soon as I passed through the doorway, bright, white feathered wings burst from her back, proving she was an intact angel—and intact angels are and have been outlawed for quite some time, according to one of Variant’s many edicts.

Interesting that not only does she possess white, angelic wings but she also possesses dark and rubbery demon wings, I think.

She’s clearly a crossbreed. And as a crossbreed, I’m convinced, she’s all the more powerful, able to draw on the powers of light and dark. Furthermore, I must also admit this darkness within her appeals to the darkness within me. I knew there was something about her that called to me. Something that existed beyond the glow of her lightness.

Unlike Dragan, I’m not attracted to her angelic nature. Her lightness might entrance him, but it does nothing for me.

It’s her shadows that pull me in, I tell myself. She’s a creature of the darkness as much as I am. And yet, she also exists in light. She’s able to travel both realms.

Then why did she appear to be dying when she was in the Shadow Realm? I wonder. I don’t have an answer just yet, but I ponder the question all the same.

I must admit I find the girl to be quite fascinating…

For a long time, the only sound comes from our footsteps crunching the dirt and rocks underfoot. We encounter no other travelers, but my ears stay piqued for thieves and others looking for trouble. Occasionally, Dragan or I stop and strain to listen to the wind, hoping for clues as to what may lie on the road ahead.

“Regardless of what Eilish wants,” Dragan starts in a low and confidential tone as he catches up to me. He faces me with a dour expression. “Do we have an agreement that you’ll find your own way once Cambion creates the stone and your memories are returned?”

I smile at him but my smile is hard. “I want out of your company just as much as you want out of mine,” I assure him.

“Very good,” he says and drops back, presumably to walk alongside the girl.

Dragan doesn’t trust me and, more specifically, he doesn’t trust me with regard to Eilish. I believe he can detect the connection between the two of us and he doesn’t like it. I can’t say I like it much either, but it’s there, all the same.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on her in Grimreap. Although I was bathed in shadow and as such, invisible to the naked eye, Eilish was able to detect me anyway. We locked gazes and it was at that moment I realized there was something quite… remarkable about her.

When she channeled a vision of my rebirth, in which she watched me crawl from my grave, I was further stunned. And once I learned she, too, heard the voice of Morrigan, the Midnight Queen, it only cemented our connection. At least in my own mind.

Yes, I will be on my way once Cambion attempts to restore my memories to me. Regardless of the pull I feel towards Eilish, I prefer my solitude.

The sound of an engine echoes in front of us.

“We need to hide,” I announce, spotting an unkempt graveyard not more than ten feet away. The headstones are old but still erect. They’re large enough to conceal a grown man.

“Whoever it is, they yield to us,” says Cambion proudly.

As a general rule, I seek to avoid confrontation. Furthermore, it’s paramount to know who or what I’m dealing with before I find myself in a bad situation. I tell him as much.

The sound of the engine is followed by the crunching of tires traveling slowly along the dirt road. Whatever the vehicle is, it’s old and heavy. The engine sputters and then dies. Moments later, we hear it rev back to life.

Dragan’s low growling voice rises in contradiction to Cambion. “Baron is right. We need to get off the road.”

“They won’t see us,” Cambion argues, waving away our concern with a disinterested hand. “I’ve magicked us to pass without notice.”

“Your magic isn’t immune to other magic,” Dragan says simply but his tone is one of acid. In general, Cambion and Dragan have been at each other’s throats since we began this merry adventure.

“And Variant’s emissaries will be very aware that all of us possess magic,” I add.

I see Cambion’s face flush in annoyance and I turn toward the curve in the path. Our visitors are still shielded by the outcropping of poplar trees that line the road, but it won’t be long before we come face to face. We don’t have time for another ego war. We need to move out of the way, and we need to do so quickly.

Cambion’s voice rises, drowning out the approach of the vehicle. “We are kings; we don’t hide from threats.”

“We are kings, yes. We aren’t fools,” growls Dragan.

Cambion laughs. “Is that your plan moving forward, then? To shrink away from anything we may encounter?” He shakes his head and scowls at the larger man. “You’re weak, Dragan. I never thought the day would come that my courage would surpass yours. Don’t forget who and what you were .”

“There’s no room for pride here,” Dragan lashes back at him. “Only strategy. No one doubts you’re a fucking king, you stupid son of a bitch.”

“If we fail now, all of this will be for nothing!” Eilish whispers, her eyes wide.

“You say nothing!” Cambion rails at her with fuming eyes. It’s no secret he doesn’t trust her and never has. His dislike seems overdone though, and I believe it merely hides something else. I imagine that something else is simply the fact that he lusts after Eilish as much as we all do.

He returns his gaze to Dragan. “And I’m sick of taking orders from you!”

Before I can say a word, Cambion lunges at Dragan, his arm pulled back to deliver a blow. Dragan’s wings are fully extended, his powerful legs pushing against the ground as he attacks the elf, in turn.

Thoradin and I are there in an instant, fighting our way between their intertwined limbs and trying desperately to separate the men so we can talk sense into them. They are mere children, and I hope to hell their foolishness doesn’t incapacitate us all.

I can hear Eilish’s voice over the loud crashes and grunts, but it takes some effort to determine what she’s saying.

“We have to get off the road!” she finally shouts loudly enough. “I hear someone coming!”

But it’s too late. I turn just in time to see a man behind Eilish, a large demon dressed in the traditional black leather of Precinct Five, Anona’s territory. As I watch, he hoists a burlap sack above her head and brings it down with alacrity.

I don’t waste any time, disappearing in a blur and reappearing just within the limits of the graveyard. I thrust my hands into the rich earth and summon my shadows forth.

“ Raise Dead .” I whisper the enchantment as I envision the corpses arising from their forever sleep and rejoining the world of the living. I stand and watch as my vision comes to fruition. The dirt above each grave begins to shift as the inhabitants below crawl out of their enclosures, according to my will.

A minute or two passes before the dead are fully separate from their caskets. Some are merely naked skeletons while others still wear their flesh, old and rotted, falling from their bones. I invoke the zombies forward, to attack our aggressors. No, these dead won’t do much damage, but they’re a distraction all the same. And they’ll allow me more time to devise a secondary attack plan.

Looking back at the scene I’ve just vacated, I see Cambion fighting two demons. Dragan, Eilish, and Thoradin are nowhere to be found.

The world around me suddenly grows blurry when I feel the stinging pinch of a needle in my neck. Unable to stay upright, I drop down to my knees. It feels as if my surroundings are spinning.

I’m not certain how it’s possible, but I’ve been poisoned.