Page 5

F IVE X ANDER

Everything comes in flashes of violence and pain. I’m powerless—I can’t change the course. I’m forced to endure this fucked-up out-of-body experience where I kill my queen, my mother , again.

My eyes meet Camille’s as the demons left standing sink to their knees before me. The confusion in her eyes and pure terror radiating from her in dark waves steals my breath. I can’t pull air into my lungs as I stand frozen in that moment. It suffocates me. My chest burns, lungs demanding oxygen they’re not getting.

And then everything goes dark.

I shoot upright, blinking quickly as the newly familiar bedroom of the safe house comes into focus around me.

Fucking hell.

It was a dream—a brutally vivid nightmare—but it felt so damn real , as if Camille was there with me, reliving the single worst moment of my twenty-five years.

Going to see Camille at her apartment last night is a very close second. She didn’t deserve the pain I caused her, ending things so coldly. The sound of her crying on the other side of the door stuck with me the entire drive back to the safe house. But I had no other choice, and what I said about not being good for her is the simple truth. Because even if she could get past what I did to save her, what I’ll become to take my place on the throne, she’ll never be safe in my world.

Unless once I’m king I make it clear that Camille is off limits…No. It wouldn’t work. Demons would deem me weak for assigning importance to a human life, especially over them. They’d target her, use her against me, and I won’t allow that to happen.

With an aggravated sigh, I snatch my phone off the table next to the bed and squint at the backlit screen to see it’s a few minutes before six. I toss my phone aside and scrub a hand down my face. Exhaustion clings to me like a heavy film, nagging at me to feed. It’s not something I’ll be able to neglect as much in my position now, and the idea of feeding more frequently sparks a twisted sense of excitement in my chest.

That’s new.

Before I can sit with it for any length of time, I get up and shuffle out of the bedroom. Blake meets me in the hall, bare-chested and hair tousled from sleep. He grumbles a quiet, “Morning,” around a yawn as he makes his way past me and to the coffee machine in the kitchen.

I follow him, lured by the promise of caffeine. Once I have a steaming mug cradled in my hands, I lean against the counter and close my eyes, allowing myself a sliver of peace as the coffee warms a path to my stomach.

“You look like shit, mate,” Blake comments, his British accent is thicker when he first rolls out of bed. He’s looking at me when I pry my eyes open and narrow them at him. “In all seriousness,” he adds, “you good?”

Offering a tight-lipped smile, I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “The universe has a delightful sense of humor.”

He cocks a brow. “Sarcasm noted.”

“I woke up from a nightmare this morning.”

Blake chuckles. Prick . “Oh, that’s unfortunate. Do you want to, like, talk about it?”

I take a drink of my coffee. “Not particularly.”

He hesitates before asking, “Was it Lucia? Or Camille?”

So much for not talking about it.

“Both,” I say, raking a hand through my hair and scratching the back of my head. “I relived the last moments of Lucia’s miserable life and woke up after I drove the dagger into her chest.”

Blake nods, his eyes searching my face. “Why do I get the sense there’s more?” He keeps his gaze on me over his mug as he takes a drink of his coffee.

I shake my head, trying to work out a clear way to explain it. “When I saw Camille, it was jarring. Like she was actually there.”

“There…as in, she was in your dream?”

I nod. “It was over before I could tell anything for sure, but I had the distinct sense that she was experiencing it with me.”

“Huh. Maybe she was.” Blake shrugs before walking to the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs. “Or, another viable explanation, you’re fucking exhausted and messed up over what happened, and reliving the attack is how you punish yourself for how it went down.”

I bite back an irritated growl and mutter, “Forget it.”

He frowns at me briefly. “You want breakfast?”

My gut is way too unsettled to eat, so I shake my head.

Blake blows out a breath and returns the egg carton to the fridge before leaning against the counter and pinning me with a serious look. “Okay, then let’s chat about your options.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does someone bang on the front door. My eyes narrow, immediately sensing the person on the other side is a demon.

No one is supposed to know where I am.

“Unclench, mate,” Blake says as he strides toward the door. “I told her to come.”

“What the f—”

He opens the door before the words are out of my mouth, and Francesca glides inside, barely acknowledging him as her vibrant emerald gaze finds mine. She looks the same as the last time I saw her, though it’s been years. Her tawny skin and auburn hair that falls past her breasts, which are on full display in a black bodysuit hugging her figure like a second skin.

Paired with dark navy jeans and a worn black leather jacket, I’m reminded of how confident she’s always been with her sense of style. It’s no wonder she and Blake get along so well.

I walk into the living room to meet them, and my posture doesn’t relax as Francesca approaches, stopping a few feet from me. “Francesca,” I say in a low voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her dark red lips curve into a slow smile, and she lowers her lashes as she dips her head in what I could easily mistake as a bow. “If you’d like to be formal about it, I’m here to swear my loyalty to you, my king.”

Blake snorts, and she shoots him a glare, to which he responds by pressing a fist to his mouth to stifle his laughter as he flops onto the couch.

“Francesca,” I say her name again, and she looks up at me. I’m at least a foot taller than her despite her knee-high heeled boots. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m not—”

Blake clears his throat, interrupting me, and I slowly turn to look at him. He lifts his brows at me, as if he’s silently—though certainly not subtly— reminding me of the time crunch I’m on to build my council before the trials start.

I’m not surprised Blake brought Francesca into the fold but I’m also not entirely thrilled about it. She wanted a royal title at one point. How can I be certain that isn’t why she’s here now?

I turn back to the demon my mother would’ve seen me marry for no reason other than power. “What did Blake tell you?”

Her eyes glimmer. “Nothing. He didn’t have to, because I understand the politics of our world, Xander. You’re going to be in charge once you pass the trials and ascend the throne, and I want a spot on your council in whatever position you see fit.”

“Give us a minute,” I say to Blake, not taking my eyes off Francesca.

“Already gone,” he mumbles as he pops up from the couch and moves at preternatural speed out of the room.

“Do you want to sit?” I offer.

Francesca nods, and we relocate to the couch.

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard about what happened,” I say in a level tone, choosing my words carefully. “But now is a pivotal time to choose who you align yourself with.”

She cocks her head to the side, her gaze never leaving mine. “What makes you think that matters to me?”

My brows lift. For as long as I’ve known Francesca, she’s been concerned with one thing—obtaining power by whatever means necessary. At one point it was by marrying me—which was ultimately never going to happen—and now it appears to be by swearing her loyalty, whatever she believes that to mean.

“Compared to many others that will attempt to sway you and garner your favor, I’m a good bet. Even Blake agrees, otherwise we both know I wouldn’t be here right now.”

I consider that and really have no argument. Still, she continues.

“We’ve known each other a long time. We grew up together. I’m more trustworthy than a lot of the demons we know.”

She’s not wrong.

“Hmm,” I hum, scratching the stubble darkening my jaw. I haven’t shaved in a week, and when I went for the razor, Blake suggested I leave it, that it made me appear older.

I didn’t care much, but I listened to him, nonetheless.

“I’ve shouldered your rejection in the past,” she says. “You would be foolish to send me away now.” Her tone isn’t sharp exactly, but it’s not warm either. She has an air about her. There’s power in her presence. I can feel it brush against my own power, but she continues to regard me with respect.

“Noted.”

She exhales a heavy sigh. “Come on, Xander. You know me. Better than most, to be completely honest. Let me do this— be this for you.”

I arch a brow at her. “What exactly do you want to be for me, Francesca?” I don’t miss the subtle tinge of color in her cheeks.

“Whatever you need,” she offers in a velvet-smooth voice that makes my cock stiffen. Francesca is skilled in many ways. She’d be the perfect distraction from thinking about the impending trials. But as physically attracted as I am to her, the haze of arousal is tainted by a wave of nausea at the idea of letting her touch me. I chalk it up to needing time to figure out my life without a human connection. Considering that also means adjusting to living without a soul—and my soulmate—it doesn’t seem entirely far-fetched.

Leaning toward Francesca, I lower my voice to shift the conversation. “What do you expect Marrick to say about this choice of yours?”

Francesca’s father was on Lucia’s council. He was one of the demons who fled after the compound attack and has essentially gone MIA. While he hasn’t expressed opposition to my new position, he also hasn’t granted his support—and he won’t. He’s always hated me almost as much as he was obsessed with Lucia. If I had to bet, he’s off somewhere pathetically trying to figure out how to make a play for the throne. My throne .

She shrugs. “I’m not sure how you’d like me to answer that. I don’t talk to him. I heard he relocated somewhere on the west coast.”

I put that information away to share with Blake in the unlikely event he isn’t listening in. It’s something we need to keep an eye on—what’s left of Lucia’s inner circle, even the ones who have decided to stand with me. I have no illusions of trust in any of them until they prove themselves to me. Even then, I’ll be incredibly selective about what I share.

That said, I do take Francesca at her word, not sensing any hint she could be lying. She’d be rather stupid to try at this point.

“Just so you know, we will be keeping tabs on him and what’s left of Lucia’s council,” I tell her.

Her brows lift. “?‘We’? So I’m in?”

I inhale slowly. “If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“I am,” she says in a level tone. “Who else will you ask to stand with you? Besides Blake, of course.”

The aforementioned demon chooses that moment to return to the living room, sitting with his legs draped over the arm of the chair in the corner. “I was getting bored pretending not to listen. Plus, I should be part of this conversation.”

I glance over at him. “Do you think Stephen and Will would accept positions on my council?”

Blake purses his lips. “I agree they’d be good additions, but you remember what they said when we asked them to help with Lucia. They prefer living their quiet life. I don’t think they’d be down for the risk involved in sitting on the council.”

I can’t fault them for that, especially after the failure that was sending Lucia back to hell. “That’s fair. The others I’d consider at this point are Greer and Jude.” They were part of Lucia’s inner circle and fought with us at the compound. I’ve known them since I was a kid. Greer’s always had a soft spot for me—unconventional for a demon but incredibly useful in getting her to betray her queen for us. And I earned Jude’s loyalty when I saved her from a hunter attack shortly after we came topside a decade ago.

“Where are they, then?” Francesca asks.

“I’ll get in contact with them,” Blake says, flicking a piece of lint off his shirt, “while you think of who else you’d like to join us.”

I don’t miss a beat. “I’m content with a small council. Four trusted members are far better than a dozen whose loyalty I’d likely doubt.”

Blake grins at me. “Look at you. You’re thinking like a king already.”

I merely roll my eyes, but the warmth of satisfaction proves just how much I like the sound of that.

He gets up, glancing between me and Francesca. “You kids behave while I’m gone. Maybe put on a movie or something.”

“Gee, thanks, Dad ,” Francesca mutters.

“I’d much prefer you call me ‘Daddy,’ Fran,” he says with a wink in her direction, and she flips him off as he leaves the house.

“I won’t blame you for changing your mind and hightailing it out of here,” I offer once we’re alone again.

She turns her attention to me, chuckling. “It’ll take a lot more than Blake being a pervert to make me bail.” Swallowing, she adds, “I’m here. I’m in this.”

The sincerity in her tone is the reassurance I need to exhale until the tension releases from my shoulders.

Francesca tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s your plan now that mommy dearest is out of the way?”

“Considering it wasn’t my intention to take the throne until now, I’m still figuring out the logistics.”

She nods. “Well, at least you’re not so unpopular that you have to face the trials alone, so really, things could be worse.”

A short laugh escapes my lips. “Thanks for your optimism.”

No more than an hour later, Jude and Greer walk into the house after Blake, along with Jude’s brother Roman and a male I don’t recognize. The twitch of concern in my gut eases as I remind myself that Blake wouldn’t bring anyone here we couldn’t trust.

I stand from the couch as Jude rushes over to me, her heels clicking against the hardwood. She throws her arms around my neck in a blur of movement. “King Xander,” she says in my ear, a smile clear in her pride-filled tone. “That certainly has a nice ring to it.”

I chuckle as she steps back, patting my chest as our eyes connect. Hers match the cobalt collared shirt she’s wearing, paired with subtle makeup and dark brown curls. She’s nearly a decade older than me, but we’ve always been civil. It wasn’t until I saved her from the lethal end of a hunter’s dagger that we became friendly.

Roman steps up beside his sister. “You didn’t formally request my expertise on your council, but you should know by now that Jude and I are a package deal.”

The corner of my mouth tugs up, and I offer Roman my hand. “I’m glad to have you.”

He shakes my hand, then moves aside for Greer and her partner to step forward.

My eyes shift from the petite demon to the muscular male next to her. He appears to be around her age, perhaps slightly older—I’d guess mid-forties—and dressed impeccably in black dress pants and shoes and a dark blue button up.

“Xander,” Greer murmurs in greeting. “This is Declan.”

Declan bows his head, his mop of black hair falling forward. When he straightens, his light blue eyes meet my gaze. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says in a deep voice.

I cut a look to Greer, who smiles faintly, tucking her long, copper curls behind her ear.

“Don’t believe a word she said,” I warn Declan in a light tone.

He chuckles. “Oh? So, you’re not an intelligent and sharp young man with immense leadership potential?”

My eyes narrow as I school my features to mask my surprise. Greer has loved giving me a hard time for as long as I can remember, though it’s always felt like it came from a place of fondness. “Hmm.”

Greer steps up beside Declan. “I know the invite to your council probably didn’t include a plus one, but I figured you could use another show of support.”

I survey the demons filling the small living room. The determination in their faces, the steady beat of their hearts. While I’m hesitant to trust anyone I’ve just met, my gut tells me I’m better off giving the new additions a chance.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I want to be clear that choosing to align yourself with me will pose challenges. There are demons who will oppose me. So long as you’re prepared to face whatever lies ahead during the ascension trials, I welcome you to my council.”

Blake pulls a pocketknife out, flicking it open. “Last chance to walk away,” he says, slicing into his palm as I hold my hand out to him to do the same.

The blood oath has been completed by every royal council since the very beginning of time. Each member of the council must offer up their own blood, mixing it with mine and connecting us.

I barely feel the blade when Blake slices into my skin before pressing his palm to mine. The moment our blood mixes, a surge of adrenaline spills into my veins like electricity. My lips part in a silent gasp at the power that surges through me as my heart thumps wildly.

It feels fucking incredible .

Blake grins at me, his own chest rising and falling faster at the shared sensations. “We’re blood brothers now, mate.”

I roll my eyes, pulling my hand free from his and holding it palm-up to keep the blood from spilling onto the floor at my feet.

Blake waves the bloodstained blade at the others. “Who’s next?”

One by one, each demon gives their blood, connecting themselves to me and securing their place on my council. After the last one, my veins are singing with power, leaving me feeling ready to take on anything.

The seven of us sit around the living room as Blake makes a production of popping open a bottle of champagne and handing us each a flute.

“To the new king of hell,” he says, lifting his glass, and everyone else follows suit while I opt for taking a drink instead.

“Have you thought about your trials?” Jude asks.

“No. I was more concerned with securing my council. Now that I have, I can focus on the trials.”

She nods. “They’ve always been tailored to the demon facing them, meaning they’ll be specific to you and not the same as what your mother would have experienced.”

I shrug. “That’s just as well. She never spoke of them to me.”

“Each trial will force you to face a potential weakness. Something you’re likely to deal with as the reigning monarch so the royal guard can see how you’d handle yourself.”

“So they’re going to be observing the trials as they happen?”

“Not necessarily,” Greer chimes in. When I arch a questioning brow at her, she continues, “They’ll be able to tap into your subconscious while you’re asleep and see the trial once you’ve completed it. From there, they will determine if you are successful.”

“Seems kinda lazy of them,” Francesca comments, picking at a hangnail on her thumb.

Blake snorts. “Bingo. Alas, we have to play by their rules.” His gaze finds mine across the coffee table separating us. “Your council’s main job is to support you. We can’t participate in the trials, but we can help you prepare outside of them.”

“And celebrate when you pass them,” Jude offers with a smile.

I return the smile briefly. “So, how exactly do I prepare when the trials can happen any time and place at the royal guard’s whim?”

Greer leans back into the couch cushions, snagging my attention. “I recall your mother’s trials. She did little to prepare, aside from maintaining her strength by feeding regularly and training with members of her council. You’ll need to tap into your demonic nature and allow it to guide you from here on out. I understand that’s new for you, having been plagued by that pesky humanity for two and a half decades, but it’s for your own good. For your survival, really.”

I nod curtly. She doesn’t say anything I disagree with.

“Are you prepared to leave your human girlfriend in the past?” Francesca asks.

My eyes narrow at her. “I have.”

“Really?” she pushes.

“Watch it,” I warn, shifting at the flare of possessiveness heating my gut. I know she’s pressing intentionally.

It’s no secret that the demons around me are wary of Camille jeopardizing my ability to ascend the throne. But I don’t see the need to explain the shattered soulmate connection—it’s gone, making it a nonissue where my council is concerned.

I’m not sure how known the history of soulmate bonds is in our world—among a human and a demon at that—and I won’t let myself explore it further. It doesn’t matter. The bond is gone.

“Okay,” Blake cuts into my trailing thoughts, turning his gaze to me. “I think we should plan for you to feed daily. Keep you at your strongest.”

“Fine,” I offer mildly, despite the prickle of excitement along the back of my neck.

The power that comes from feeding on human fear can feel like a drug hit. I never used to feed for pleasure, just necessity, but now…the thought of it makes me nearly salivate.

“I can train with you,” Francesca offers. “I’ve taken up pilates and boxing over the last few years. I’m probably your best option.”

Declan laughs. “Cocky much?”

She shrugs. “Think you can do better? I’d be more than happy to show you my skills if having your ass handed to you sounds like fun.”

“I’d pay to see that,” Roman adds with a grin.

Declan holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head. “All yours.”

“Excellent,” Francesca says, turning her attention to me. “I’m ready to start whenever you are, Your Majesty.”

“That stops now,” I tell her, glancing around the room. “That goes for all of you. Whatever happens in the next six weeks before the winter solstice—”

“You’re already our king,” Jude interjects gently, and the others nod in agreement, bowing their heads in respect.

“Very well, but you are my council.” I meet each of their gazes one by one. “You do not bow before me, you stand beside me.”

Blake shoots me a wink. “Long live the king.”