Page 35 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

Azrael

Itake a swig of soul-laced whiskey, then slam the glass down on the drink station next to the armoire.

Tonight, I’m sending the demons terrorizing the town back to Hell where they belong.

But first, there’s a beautiful girl lying awake, waiting for me to wish her goodnight.

Warmth pulses through our bond. Her excitement trickles in, bit by bit.

I send a rush of my own her way. She may not understand the bond yet—or feel it.

But when she does, I want her to be flooded with all the love I have for her.

I may not be ready to say it out loud, or even fully admit it to myself, but I won’t deny Mercy the most intimate access to my feelings when they rise to the surface like this.

As I dress in my slaying leathers, my gaze falls to the spot where I’ve hidden the sword: beneath a loose floorboard, magically disguised and protected.

I can’t explain how I know that the Ringmaster and Lucifer must never get their hands on it.

Maybe, since I’ve bonded to it by blood right, it would curse them if they tried to wield it.

No—a weapon of Hell would never disobey the Morning Star.

Which makes it all the more important that no one discovers it’s crossed into this realm.

Once I’ve dressed, I pour another shot from the decanter and toss it back.

This pressure won’t ease until I’ve sent them screaming back to Hell.

Only their rotting corpses will silence the rage crawling beneath my skin.

I look at myself in the large oval mirror, run my fingers through my hair one last time, and flash a devilishly handsome grin at my reflection.

At last, I retrieve the sword. The moment my hand clasps the handle, ancient magic stirs—humming, brimming with power. I sheath it at my hip and tug on my jacket to conceal its presence.

I keep to the shadows as I slink through the hallway, careful to avoid every creaky floorboard. I don’t want to encounter the Ringmaster tonight. Silently, I weave down the hall, then the stairs, and finally slip out the front door into the dark night.

Outside, smoky shadows slither around my boots, curling up my legs settling as the ground beneath my step smolders, leaving faded footprints behind.

My eyes turn to cold inky black stones. I thirst for souls.

A wicked smile creeps across my lips as I stare up at the crescent moon, basking in the magical completeness I feel from all the power emanating from within my body.

More power claws at the edges of my soul, begging to break free.

But I’m not strong enough. Not yet. Not until I find someone to feed on.

As soon as I step over the property line, it’ll be easy to find my first victim.

I just have to follow the streets into the heart of town, and that’s exactly what I do.

The moon follows me as I slip through the shadows, searching for the scum who dared lay a hand on my mate. I may as well make the most of it. This is an opportunity to eliminate one of them and devour his soul, damning him to eternal suffering with a never-ending sentence in Hell.

There’s an abundance of guilty souls tonight. Each one tainted just enough to make any of them an easy target. If I hadn’t already made up my mind, I’d have feasted by now. But I wait. Determination keeps me moving, patient—hunting.

It doesn’t take long. The perfect target stumbles down the street, reeking of guilt.

He walks straight toward me, dumb enough to wander into a trap I didn’t even have to set.

. A sinister smile curves my mouth. Bloodthirsty fangs protruding from where I keep them hidden.

I lick over their pointed tips like a predator awaiting his meal—every muscle poised for the kill.

I extend my hand, summoning my shadows to deliver the glowing dagger strapped to my thigh.

They respond instantly. One tendril unsheathes it, billowing shadowy tendrils curl around the hilt before sliding it smoothly into my palm.

The others manipulate the darkness, cloaking my presence from the unsuspecting man.

He whistles a tune to himself, oblivious to death lurking nearby.

I turn the dagger over in my hand impatiently, its runes glowing with anticipation.

Just a few more steps. The hunger gnaws at me.

I’m growing irritated. I need to feel his flesh tearing against my teeth, as his blood coats each one.

But I’m hanging on to just enough of my humanity to keep it at bay a little longer.

Finally, he crosses the invisible line. My shadows strike, springing forward, clinging to the pathetic excuse of a man, encircling his entire body so he’s unable to escape.

A lone tendril of darkness clamps over his mouth to keep him from crying out, then he’s yanked to the ground and dragged to where I stand waiting for him in the empty alley.

Dumped at my feet, the man stares up with a horrified expression plastered on his face.

The scent of his terror fills the air, making him all the more irresistible.

I need to claim his soul. The hunger is unbearable.

But I’m going to take my time. I intend to toy with my meal before I deliver the final sentence.

My fingertips stroke over the blade lightly, its magic pulsing against them, begging to be plunged right into his heart, trapping the soul for my taking.

“Do you know who I am?” I ask, my teeth gleaming in the sliver of light from the crescent moon.

I wave my hand, releasing his mouth from its shadowy prison.

“N-N-NO, Sir,” he stammers.

“I… I… don’t want any trouble,” he gulps.

“Please, let me empty my pockets and send me on my way,” he begs desperately.

I click my tongue. “Oh, I’m afraid we won’t be doing that.”

“But my wife and children—”

I cut him off. “Does your wife know about the girls you buy for a night of pleasure? Don’t pretend to be something you’re not. I know what you really are. I can taste it.”

I crouch over him, pressing the knife to his skin, watching as a dribble of blood trickles onto the steel. “You’re not a gentleman, Jeremiah. No, I’m afraid you’re quite the opposite, and your sins have finally caught up to you.”

His eyes don’t meet mine. They remain fixed on my mouth… on the rows of serrated teeth eager to taste him. “I repent, devil. Spare me.”

My maniacal laughter starts slow, then builds. “I’m not the devil. Your repentance means nothing to me.”

“What are you?” he gasps, defeated.

“I’m death. And I’m here to be your executioner.” I slam the dagger into his still-beating heart, then lean in to whisper, “You should’ve kept your hands off what’s mine. Now, every man who’s ever touched her will die. Enjoy your stay in Hell.”

His eyes go wide just before I tear into his neck—shredding his soft skin the way an animal might, desperate for every drop of his soul.

It trickles down my throat, coats my aching teeth, and fills me with the magical energy I desperately need to complete my hunt tonight.

My eyes are cold and dark as I drink and drink until nothing is left of him.

Satisfied, I pull the dagger from his heart, reach right through his skin, rip it free, then devour it.

The monster within me is ruthless. Driven by revenge.

I’ll destroy the others just the same. Once this world is cleansed of their wickedness, and Mercy is mine—safely tucked away in my bed— then, and only then, will I claim her for myself.

Power surges through me. I’m ready for a battle. But first I have a selfish desire to wish Mercy goodnight. Two more days feels like an eternity when I’m this close to holding her in my arms forever.

I dab at the corners of my mouth, then conjure a clean, neatly trimmed, freshly clothed ensemble.

Shadow, leather, and a hint of warm spice replace the rich, tangy scent of blood and soul.

I snap my fingers and a rolled emberleaf appears between my lips.

Lighting it with my thoughts, I take a deep inhale.

That’s better. Now I’ll smell like smoky shadows and emberleaf.

The body can stay here—serving as a warning that I’m coming for him. If Jacob’s smart enough to figure it out. It’s only a matter of time. Vengeance burns cold in my eyes. I blink it away and take a deep breath. I need to pull myself together before I see Mercy.

What’s the point of pretending?

I’ll fall apart the second I see her tangled in the silk nightgown that clings to every curve like sin—it’s useless to fight for control.

She’s about to become my one weakness. Gods save the realms if they take her from me before I can make her my wife.

Once I pass on my immortality to her, we’ll last forever. She’ll always be mine.

I step over the dead carcass lying carelessly in the middle of the alley and begin my stealthy descent to Mercy’s window—where I know I’ll find it unlocked.

Thoughts race through my head as I walk the path to her.

I’m not exactly sure what I plan to say or do when I arrive.

I only know I need to see her—to feel her in my arms. Her house slips into view as I turn the corner, and my mind goes blank.

Numb. My eyes are burning full of magic.

They’re probably terrifying. The last thing I want is to scare her.

I close them and concentrate, concealing the features I don’t want her to see.

I pull on a magical mask, struggling to hold my human form in place.

When I feel the magic finally pull back, lying in wait for more action, I open my eyes and slip into the shadows of the orchard, using the darkness and the trees to conceal me.

Undetected, I slink through the orchard, into the garden, across the property until I’m crouched in front of Mercy’s window.

She’s already in bed, beneath her blanket.

My fingertips press against the glass, and with a flick of my wrist, I slide it open.

I slip through the opening—more shadow than man—as I glide beneath the sheets.

Before I wrap an arm around her to pull her close, I move the sword from my side, letting it fall to the mattress. Out of the way. Forgotten for now.

Mercy’s body is warm and soft against mine. She fits into my arms perfectly, as if crafted with me in mind. She stirs between wakefulness and sleep.

“It’s okay, darling. It’s only me.” I whisper in her ear, then press my cheek to hers.

“Azrael,” she mutters, “Is that you?”

“Yes,” I say gently, running my knuckles over her arm.

“Why are you here? Is it time to go already?” she asks, confused.

“No. It’s not time yet. I’m just selfish,” I confess.

“Why’s that?” she asks, snuggling herself into my embrace.

“Because I needed to see you… so I could kiss you goodnight.” I rasp as my lips brush against her neck.

Her breath catches, goosebumps erupting across her skin. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Are you cold?” My hand drags over her arms, offering a bit of warmth.

“Not really,” she answers softly.

We lay close together in silence for several minutes. I trace my fingers over her shoulders, down her arms, and back up the curve of her hip. The silky nightgown is soft beneath my fingers, and the only thing separating her from my greedy hands.

I shouldn’t be here. Not like this. It’s going to be hard to leave.

If not to banish demons, then at least to fulfill a promise.

I swore to myself I’d restore her dignity by taking out every one of her previous lovers.

When I’m through, I’ll worship her body for the rest of my existence and teach her what it’s like to be satisfied.

My control is wavering. I need to stop. But I can’t. “Roll over, Mercy… so I can kiss those pretty lips of yours.” My mouth betrays me.

She rolls inward to face me, squinting in the dark, cupping my face like she’s afraid I’m a dream.

“I’m real, my darling. Not a dream. I promise.” My words are soft and raspy, lingering in the small space between us.

Mercy drops her hand to my chest. “If by chance you are a dream… you’ll be my favorite one.”

“Tell me, Mercy. Have you ever dreamed of me?” I ask, desperate for her to say yes.

A smile forms on her lips. “Azrael, I always dream of you. And when I wake, I always hope it’s your dreams that linger.”

Her confession slices through me, soft and aching. I hate myself for every nightmare she’s endured. It’s my fault. Things should’ve been different. All this time she was dangling right in front of me, but I was too easily manipulated by doubt to see it.

Her fingers feel so small, swallowed by my hand as I pull them to my lips, kissing them softly. “I’m sorry.”

I let my mouth linger, brushing across each one with deliberate reverence. Her pulse quickens beneath my touch.

Mercy pulls her hand back slightly. “Why are you sorry? What have you done?”

I reach for her hand, thumb sweeping across the top of her hand. “I didn’t come for you sooner. I left you here to suffer.”

“Stop. Don’t say those things. I’m not your responsibility,” she whispers, her voice low and unsure.

She’s right to hesitate. But she’s wrong—she is my responsibility. And I’ll no longer allow her to carry the weight of the pain she never should have endured.

“Did you really wake me just to kiss my fingers and brood?”

“No, Mercy. I came to kiss you goodnight.”

“Well then, Azrael. Stop talking and kiss me.”

A growl, deep and primal, vibrates my chest. I tilt her chin, closing the distance until my lips at last brush hers.

And then we collide—hungry, passionate, desperate.

Every nerve in my body ignites as I surrender to the kiss, devouring the soft, perfect shape of her mouth like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.