Page 23 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)
Chapter
Fifteen
RONEN
M y Dreads and I split up and rounded on the six Hell Squadrons, observing their skill levels and assessing our leadership. Rune padded silently at my side, ever watchful as we evaluated the recruits.
Each of us carried a piece of parchment marked with a Scriptum Ostendere—a rune that linked our papers, allowing us to share our thoughts and observations in real time.
By day’s end, I planned to use the second piece in my pocket, linked to the poster overhead, to rank our warriors and give them a clearer sense of their competition.
I paused near the Devils Squadron, where groups of recruits sparred in hand-to-hand combat.
I glanced down at my paper, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at Alexei’s latest addition to our notes.
And it had to be Alexei. He was the only Dread who’d think to draw a crude stick figure of a female with exaggerated curves and, predictably, a list of her hair and eye colors.
We didn’t know all the names in the lower-level squadrons, so we relied on physical descriptions and—in Alexei’s case—personal embellishments.
I scanned the Devils, bypassing Lou’s drilling stare, and found the female Alexei had so expertly drawn, shaking my head when I did.
She had a half-bare face, the skin stripped from her neck to her temple, revealing slick muscle.
Bone jutted from half her nose, and her teeth gleamed as she took blow after brutal blow from her opponent.
Alexei should’ve noted her soul wound, not her curvy body—but knowing him, I wasn’t surprised. Still, he wasn’t wrong to note her.
She took hits to the face and kidneys and didn’t flinch.
Not a grunt, not even a hiss of pain. Her remaining eye, fierce and determined, locked onto her attacker as she absorbed the hits to her ribs.
Then, with an almost casual efficiency, she knocked the male off balance, drove him to the ground, and hammered him with her fists.
I nodded, impressed, and placed a tally next to her name.
Rune bounded off to the far end of the arena, grabbing my attention, only to lead me to her .
She stood bundled up, shivering, and heaving against the Nephilim.
Surprisingly, my shadows didn’t react. I refused to think about why.
Like I refused to think about what her words had done to me the other night.
Not her worthless apology—she could apologize from dawn to dusk, and I wouldn’t give her a moment’s attention.
At least, not more than I had to. Even if I found myself checking in on her more than I should.
No, it was before that—her defeated honesty that struck a chord.
And damn it, I hated how it made me feel.
Gritting my teeth, I glared at the wet sheen in her heavy, dark waves and her undeniable shivering. My shadows shoved at my control, wanting to shoot out and tamper with her neurons to warm her up.
Why the fuck was her hair wet again?
“Tormentors Leader,” I called out, walking over to the iron yard.
Moira set down her weights. “Yes, Ronen?”
“What did you call me?” My shadows seeped from my feet, secretly sliding up her leg and lifting a dagger from her sheath.
My lips pressed into a line while hers lifted in a taunting smirk.
We both agreed at the beginning of this arrangement that she wouldn’t drop my title during training.
I didn’t want anyone thinking she had special treatment.
But it seemed she no longer cared—still snubbed by the unfairness of her situation, the murder of her friend, and probably the fact we hadn’t fucked since we rescued the hellion.
It hadn’t been without trying, but every time she came to my room, I would either leave, sleep, or try to please her and lose interest, leaving her to pleasure herself.
She had reasons to be upset, but she was testing my restraint.
Her devious little mind once intrigued me, but now I found it off-putting.
Her lip twitched, as if we were playing a game. “Ro?—”
I nicked her neck, and my shadows drew her blood to my mouth. Quickly, I shut down the neural pathways to her temporal lobe, silencing her.
“Here, I am your general.” I stepped into her space, towering over her as the shadows swirled in my irises, deepening my vision. “Not your punching bag. Not your boyfriend ,” I spat. “Your general. If you want to continue down this path, you can join Danny in the lower circles. Understood? ”
She slowly nodded, her nostrils flaring with anger. I shouldn’t let this disrespect slide. I usually didn’t. But there was something else that needed my attention—something gnawing at me enough to tighten my chest and stir the anxious shadows under my skin.
“Your new recruits have returned.” I nodded to the door, releasing Moira from my control.
“Worthless. Both of them,” she seethed.
I forced my shadows back.
They had nearly torn me apart, trying to break free and comfort the female when she’d ended up unconscious in the healers’ wing, her lips blue, her clothes damp and frozen.
When Sam suggested I retrieve her warmer clothing, I luscelered away, grateful for a task that would not only put distance between us but also ease the restless hunger of my shadows.
It aggravated me how much they were affected by her.
When I returned, I couldn’t hold them back any longer. They dove into her mind, and her powers wrapped around mine, caressing and seducing them, pulling me into a scene that would forever be seared into my brain—the pet and her.
My blood simmered with lingering rage.
I had to listen to them. To see them.
I shoved the memory away. “Explain the state of their hair.”
Moira eyed them from head to toe, seeming satisfied by their misery. “They probably tripped into another puddle. They’re not the brightest.”
That was what she had said yesterday.
“They tripped and fell only on their heads? ”
Moira shrugged. “Maybe they took a shower before the run. I don’t know, General. I’m busy training a squad, not trying to look after two worthless bodies of flesh.”
A shower?
On a good day, Hell peaked at thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit, but lately, it hovered closer to the negatives, reflecting Lucifer’s mood.
Even the seasoned warriors, with their Hell Squadron uniforms designed to regulate temperature, knew better than to shower before training outdoors.
Those with at least half a brain understood the risk, while the ones who didn’t—like a couple of dead Bowel recruits—paid the price.
The hellion and Nephilim made their way over to us. A black wisp circled my palm, begging to leave me and infiltrate her brain. I clenched my jaw and locked it back inside my body.
“Ni,” I commanded. She marched over with her twin.
The Dojigiri twins never left each other’s sides. And after hearing their stories, I didn’t blame them. Somehow, after killing a famed demon leader, the council didn’t reward the two upon death with Heaven—but with Hell.
“Dry those two off.”
Ni nodded and met the hellion and Nephilim a few yards away. Ichi explained Ni’s powers, then her fire magic thawed and dried them. The shadows in my core settled when the hellion’s lips pinked along with her cheeks.
“Train your recruits better, Squad Leader. If you can’t keep them out of puddles or showers before a freezing run, then how do I expect you to lead them at all? ”
Outrage infused her expression before smoothing over to cool indifference. “Is this not Hell, General? Suffer or die, right?” she said, throwing my words back in my face.
My shadows rattled inside me. But I wasn’t my shadows, and this was Hell. “Right.”
The cunning gleam settling on her face stoked my possessive power. It slammed against my barriers, demanding out, demanding to protect the hellion.
I glanced at her again, flashing back to her broken voice as she kneeled in front of the library. Her vulnerable words had tugged at a part of me I continuously denied. I scoffed. She didn’t deserve my sympathy.
Shame slapped a bitter taste at the back of my mouth.
Nor did she deserve to be called a traitor or pinned to that cot.
She had been right. I was the general for a reason.
I’d been inside countless minds and could spot people’s motivations.
The hellion was never going against Hell; she may not be for it, but she wasn’t a traitor.
She just kissed fucking traitors.
But seeing her there at those doors, so overcome by the weight of her sorrows, it took every ounce of my will to fight my shadows and not go to her.
My Soulhound didn’t have those reservations. I gazed at Rune and the excited black wisps curling around her tail. She sat by the hellion’s side, completely content.
Rune was the only piece of my soul I’d allow the hellion to have.
Not that I could ever stop Rune. From the glimpses of Earth I saw through her eyes and hearing about the hellion and Saraqael’s story, I realized Rune had found our cordistella way before I did.
She loved the hellion, and nothing would keep them apart.
I just hoped the hellion never figured it out.
Although if she knew, she wouldn’t care. After all, she and the pet looked pretty fucking cozy in that dream-walk.
In all my years, I had never heard of the term or experienced something like that. It didn’t make sense. But for all I knew, that form of communication stemmed from some Hell-born power.
My nostrils flared at the information the pet could be gaining, while my shadows rioted at the images of him touching her.
For fuck’s sake.
I gritted my teeth and strode away. I didn’t want to be near her any longer than I had to.
After observing the training sessions and ranking five recruits in each squad, Alexei and I left with the Dreads to patrol and search the Lower City of Hoar Hollow for Damned Souls. Eventually, I commanded everyone to split up.