3. THIS FUCKING GUY

Chapter three

THIS FUCKING GUY

S linking through the castle halls, I found my way to the servant's quarters. First order of business: find a way to blend in unnoticed. Shifting was always an option, but I wasn't entirely sure what forms were considered normal in this realm yet. Based on what little information I'd come across in my research on Anathema, few mortal creatures still resided within its borders—most having died off from lack of sunlight—and if caught in a form which wasn't organic, I risked getting caught before I even set eyes on my target. Better to play it safe.

Careful to avoid detection, I stuck to the shadowed corners, but the splendor of the castle was not lost on me. Carved stone pillars, towering ceilings, crimson stair runners, and half-melted candles dripping from their ornate candelabras drew my eye. Stunning, to say the very least. I knew if I gave myself time, I could wander these halls for hours marveling at the art, not to mention the literature packed in the study bookshelves. It struck me: the history of my people was within reach. Accessible for the first time. Questions I'd battled my entire life could be laid to rest with some dedication and time. What really happened to the shapeshifters and why? But my own desires would have to wait.

Servants ran about the halls, each in a rush to their required locations. Dawn—while you wouldn't know it given the crescent moon hanging high in the night sky—was upon us. Royalty was waking, and based on the palpable tension in the air, nobody intended to keep their charges waiting. My gaze slid down my frame: acid-washed jeans, band t-shirt, leather jacket. Gods, could I look any more like a human? I needed a wardrobe change. ASAP. I took a step forward, but paused as someone approached. The woman's bright fuchsia eyes radiated in the low light. A demon.

"Go," she said in a kind tone and guided a timid, young demon down the hall. "I'll find them, I promise. But for now, you must attend to the advisor. Keep up the fa?ade. Keep him happy."

The girl—who upon closer inspection couldn't be more than fifteen years old—shook her head fiercely. "I—I can't. I don't know how to do this. Suri, I'm scared."

"Fear is normal," Suri responded, taking the girl's hand in hers. "But you cannot let fear win. You cannot let him win. Play the role; be his right hand until we can find a way to get you home. Fake it like your life depends on it. Can you do that for me?"

The young girl nodded—her chin trembling—and Suri ushered her towards the far end of the hall.

"Good. Now go before you're late. And Lana…"

Lana turned, wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks. "Yes?"

"You are far stronger than anything he throws at you. Do you hear me?"

With a strained smile, Lana disappeared into the shadows, and Suri turned…heading straight towards me. Fuck. Before I could curve around the next corner out of sight, she was there. Her eyes drilled into me. She knew I didn't belong—that I was an invader in this kingdom—given my appearance alone. Her hands tightened at her sides as she turned to run, a scream clawing up her throat.

"Guards! Intruder—"

I clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her dainty frame into the nearest room off the main hall. Pressing her to the wall, I lowered myself into her sight line.

"I am not your enemy. You're safe."

She looked me over frantically, panic evident in her stare.

I raised my free hand in submission, showing her I bore no weapons. "I promise, I'm no threat to you."

Her expression relaxed slightly.

"Good," I said. "Now, if you swear not to yell, I'll—"

Her teeth sank into my palm, drawing blood, and I instinctively released my hold. With speed I'd not anticipated, she was nearly out the door before I brought her to the ground and placed one knee on each side of her, pinning her in place. I clapped my hand back over her mouth.

"That wasn't very nice, was it?" I whispered. "Here I thought we were becoming friends."

She thrashed beneath my hold, determined for freedom at any cost. I couldn't help but marvel at her for a moment. That rage, the wrath…it was all too familiar. A flicker of Kim's conviction in my current rival reminded me of my mission. I heaved a deep breath.

"Look, I saw what you did for that girl back there. Lana, was it?"

Upon hearing the young demon's name, Suri stilled beneath me.

"I am no stranger to the malicious intents of royalty," I continued, "which is precisely why I'm here. I have someone I need to protect as well. I don't want to hurt you, Suri."

Her flailing settled, and I gave her a moment to find her center.

"Okay, I'm going to remove my hand now. Please don't scream." Slow and steady, I did as I said I would.

When her breath evened out, she asked, "Who are you?"

"Who I am doesn't matter. I am no one to concern yourself with."

A deep voice cut through the quiet, reverberating down the halls. "Suri! Death has summoned you! You must hurry!"

Fear flickered across her face, and I stood, pulling her to her feet. "You're Death's right hand?"

"No." She shook her head. "I am to be the new queen's royal dresser."

The admission hit me square in the chest. "Kimberly?"

She nodded. Another voice echoed down the hall. Followed by another and another.

"I must go," she said, and headed for the door.

I caught her arm gently, turning her towards me. "What happened to Lana? I'm assuming she didn't have a say?"

Suri's face fell, and she shook her head again. That poor girl played no part in her own future, the same way Kimber had no say in her betrothal. The notion burned me up inside. To force such a fate on anyone, to take away their autonomy, their choice...it was beyond cruel. Dehumanizing. Evil men thrived best in darkness where their sins were easily concealed, and Anathema provided them a hunting ground enveloped in eternal night.

"Your future queen would never allow such a thing. She seeks to right the wrongs brewing here in Anathema." I stepped closer to Suri. "You don't owe me anything, I know, but if you give me the chance, I will dedicate myself to helping Kim do just that."

Another gruff call from a castle guard ricocheted down the hall. Death was losing his patience.

"Really, I must go," she said, ripping her arm free.

"Please, no one can know I'm here. Not if I have any hope of ensuring your future queen has the chance to fix the imbalance in this kingdom. For you. For Lana."

"The future queen, she is your charge?"

"Yes, I serve her will."

"I see." She looked me up and down. Her nose wrinkled when she came to my ripped jeans. "Three doors down to the left, you'll find a small room. We keep extra servant uniforms there." She turned to leave but stopped to peer back over her shoulder. "Do not make me regret this. Mistaking my kindness for weakness has led men to an early grave on more than one occasion."

With that, she was gone.

After donning my new attire—a scratchy-as-hell black ensemble—I began my search of the castle. Knowing where things were located, especially good hiding places, was a must if I hoped to take out a gods-knows-how-old vampire Lord. Sure, I had my strengths, but something told me he wouldn't be my easiest kill to date. Good thing I loved a challenge. I familiarized myself with the main wings: washrooms, studies, ballrooms, the usual. Upon my turn towards the south tower, a soft voice stopped me in my tracks. The girl from before: Lana. I ducked into the nearest study and pressed my ear to the door frame.

"Please," she begged. "I can't do that. I just…can't."

A man—his tone full of venom—responded, "You will do as your royal advisor commands, or you'll secure a new permanent residence where you'll be…put to better use, shall we say."

"A new place doesn't sound so bad—"

"You foolish girl," he seethed. "You will find no kindness there. No joy. You would be nothing more than a fresh slab of meat outside these walls. Prey. Have you forgotten the mercy I bestowed upon you? How I plucked you from your miserable life and allowed you to serve me here in these grand halls?"

I snuck a glance to find Lana's hands knotted in her skirt. I convinced myself to stay put despite everything in me yearning to rip this asshole a new one. Who talks to a kid that way? The dude deserved to have his tongue cut out.

She cowered under his stare. "No sir, I—I haven't forgotten. I just, I've never offered my blood to anyone before. I'm scared."

"It is an honor to appease the future king's needs. We can't very well have him focused on his thirst while he aims to charm the future queen in battle, can we?" The demon advisor jerked Lana's chin up. "A thing like that could easily be defined as treason: refusal to attend to your royal duties."

Tears slid down her cheeks. "Will it hurt?"

"Oh, very much so." A wicked grin spread across his face as he slid a single finger down her cheek, wiping her tears. He stepped closer to Lana. "But to lend your virgin blood to the next king of Anathema is a pain worth enduring. Would you not agree?"

My hands shook, and my teeth gnashed together. Sick bastard! The look in his eyes told me that given the chance and privacy, he'd be willing to go a lot further than what I'd just witnessed. Probably had. Something told me Kim might already have dibs on this guy—my girl had fantastic intuition when it came to identifying monsters—but if she didn't, he would die by my hand. Oh, how I'd make it slow, draw it out.

His hand tightened around Lana's arm, and she recoiled with a sharp breath. That was it. Screw him! I turned the corner with clenched fists, ready to beat the prick black and blue, when a shadow eclipsed the hall. I flattened myself against the wall, motionless. Based on his garb, the deep crimson of his eyes, and the fang-filled smirk, it didn't take long to realize who I'd happened to bump into. A murderous urge pumped through me.

"Lord Lyvias," the advisor greeted. "We were just coming to find you, Highness."

"Could have fooled me, Nasheesh," Lyvias responded, the vein beneath his neck tattoo bulging. "Looks to me as if you were playing with my meal. And I don't take kindly to seconds."

"My apologies. I only wished to make sure she was prepared to serve you adequately."

"Not necessary. Going in blind causes panic, increases fear. Terror makes the blood all the sweeter." The vampire Lord let out a dark chuckle and honed in on Lana. "Come, child."

With a quickness I hadn't anticipated, Lyvias and his prey were gone, leaving Nasheesh grimacing in the hall. My heart sank into my gut. Shit. I should have saved her. Should have stepped out and beat them both senseless. But if something like this was going on within the castle walls in plain view, I'd bet it'd trickled in from the outside. There could be more like her. On my mother's grave, I swore then and there that I'd not only save Lana, return her to her family, and murder the men who'd caused her pain; but I would also do everything in my power to prevent such tragedies from befalling another woman or child in Anathema. So I'd bide my time to save as many as I could. And while I waited, I'd relish the thought of Nasheesh's and Lyvias's blood on my hands, the life seeping out of them.

You don't fuck with kids. Period .

Nasheesh smoothed his robes before snapping at a passing guard. "You. Escort me to the training grounds. I wish to be present when the future queen arrives."

"Yes, sir," the guard responded.

I followed close, but not too close, attempting to blend in. When onlookers passed, I stopped to polish a nearby statue with my sleeve or straighten a picture like a good servant would. Nobody appeared to notice me, let alone question whether I belonged, and the realization saddened me. How many of the castle staff had been forced into a life like this as Lana had? Been bent to another's whims above their own desires? It sickened me. Why did Death allow it? No doubt he'd have countless people willing to serve him by choice. It was a prestigious position to most: serving the king. Why steal a child from her home? He had some serious explaining to do upon our next meeting, but I logged the thought away and turned my focus to the present. Stay sharp.

I made it through the gardens and into the training grounds, scouring the scene before finding the servant's tent tucked away from the group of well-dressed aristocrats. Death mingled among the crowd, and I scooped up a rogue serving platter packed with a variety of drinks. Blood sloshed in a golden goblet. For Lyvias, surely. Wading into the crowd, I kept my head down until I brushed elbows with Cadagon.

His sights honed in on me as he lifted a glass of red wine from my tray. "You may go now."

"Your Highness, might I have a word—"

"I said, ‘Go.' Servants are to be mere shadows." Cadagon shooed me away.

A hint. Don't let anyone of importance see you. If Kim found out I was here, or Lyvias caught onto Death's and my deal, everything would be ruined.

"Yes, Your Highness. I'll be just around that corner should you need me."

His eyes narrowed. "I won't."

I resigned myself to a nearby outcropping in the tree line where I could easily disappear if need be. Though at the crowd's synchronized head turn in anticipation of Lyvias's appearance, I knew it'd be impossible for me to look away. He began his sparring match with a thick-muscled reaper. The vampire Lord swung his axe around as if it weighed little more than a feather, nearly decapitating his opponent in the first minute. I studied his foot placements, his grip on his weapon, committing it all to memory. While I hated to admit it, the asshole was good at what he did. He'd be a challenge to defeat even on my best day.

Every head but his turned towards the grounds' entrance, and my heart skipped a beat, reminding me exactly why I had come in the first place.

Kim walked in with her head held high like the queen she was. Her gown's plunging neckline drew the eye to her perfect breasts. My gaze slid about her, down to where the pleated fabric hugged her curves. I imagined my hands laced around those hips, digging my fingertips into her soft flesh, while my lips pushed hard against hers to absorb her pleading moan. Ruby clips dotted the gentle waves of her hair, glittering in the moonlight's glow, and I forgot how to breathe. I lost myself in her. Stunning. Absolutely stunning in every way. My body reacted the same way it always did in her presence, and I carefully adjusted my arousal, tucking the evidence into my waistband. That's all I needed was to have a noticeable boner over the future queen. I'm sure that'd win me an overnight stay in the dungeon at the very least.

I never took my eyes off her as she conversed with Death and Nasheesh; never looked away when she feigned interest in her new betrothed. For a moment, I feared she might actually be entertaining the idea. Lyvias and her. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, not going to lie. If I hadn't seen what I had with Lana, and say, stumbled across him in a club instead, he would have caught my eye. But I knew better. The deadliest predators usually came wrapped in beautiful packages. And after seeing Kim that close to him—a smug, disinterested grimace on his face as she appeared to be pleading with him about something—I had to remind myself that this was a marathon, not a sprint. Slitting his throat in front of so many important assets to the throne that Kim would certainly need to remain in good standing with…well, that wouldn't do.

As I stepped out of my secluded watching area, the crowd gasped in tandem, their feet shuffling together and blocking my view. Their panicked tones gave me pause; talk of death and murder and ill intentions rolled through the mass.

"What is he doing?" muttered someone.

With a scoff, another responded, "Lyvias won't let her go so easily."

My blood ran cold. What the hell was going on? Had he hurt her? With hurried steps, I rounded the guests, attempting to catch a glimpse through the hysteria. I swore if he'd laid a fucking hand on her, I'd kill him right then and there.

When I finally saw what they'd been murmuring about, the only thing I could do was laugh. There, splayed out below his own weapon, laid the big, bad vampire Lord. Kim pressed the edge of the axe down harder, spilling fresh blood on Lyvias's throat—the sharpness of the blade dull in comparison to the wrath in her stare. I bit my lip.

"That's my girl," I whispered.

"What did you say?" a cerulean-eyed demon asked, his sudden proximity making me jump.

"Shit—uhh. I mean, my apologies. I said, ‘Would you like more wine, sir?'"

He raised a brow, his sights drifting about as if he could see right through me. "Right. I will pretend you didn't just lie to me then."

"I promise you, I—"

"Ah, ah." He raised a hand, the gold bangles around his wrist jingling. "Lie to me once, and I am prone to forgiveness. But nobody lies to Adari Melontin-Wentworth twice."

His attention lingered between me and some unforeseen image above my head before he ambled into the crowd. What was he staring at? Old kook. No wonder he hadn't wanted any more wine; the dude was already having drunken hallucinations. He slid his hand into a man's wearing a dapper, tailored suit and stole one final glance towards me before pressing a kiss to his partner's cheek. Odd. I never took the elite to be ones to let things go. Especially when my dumbass let something so personal slip. The crowd parted—Adari disappearing in the mix—and I dismissed the curious interaction.

Instead I set my sights on Lyvias as he pouted his way off the training grounds in a dramatic display of poor sportsmanship. With little consideration, he began removing his battle gear and tossed it aside in his walk of shame back towards the castle. A young man in servant attire much more worn than my own trailed after him, leaning down to pick up each individual piece in time with the Lord's tantrum. I followed suit, helping collect the abandoned armor.

"Thank you," the man said quietly. "He's fast and impatient."

"Who, Lyvias?"

The man's face went white. " Lord Lyvias, you mean."

"Lord, yes. My apologies."

"Silence your incessant yapping, would you?" Lyvias barked. He spun on us—his attention landing on me—and a flicker of something dark and familiar flashed in his crimson eyes. "And who might you be?"

I swallowed hard. I hadn't considered a name; what a rookie move. Umm…

"This," Death's voice interrupted as he pushed me forward, "is your new servant. He's quite keen on stress relief, and I thought you might be in need of a good massage after such an intense battle."

"He is mine to command?" Lyvias asked, raising a brow.

"Indeed, he is. Consider him a gift. He will do whatever you require of him."

Lyvias looked me over, hungry. "Anything?"

My hands began to shake. "What is that supposed to—"

"Yes," Cadagon cut in, stepping between us to glare down at me. " Addison will do whatever it is you ask of him. Correct, boy?"

Death's burning eyes reflected a murderous spark back at me, but not my own. He'd provided me an opening alongside a warning: bide my time, study my target. The hunt had begun, and damn was I excited to learn this asshole's weaknesses. I licked my lips, my heartbeat amping up. "Yes, Lord Lyvias. I am at your service."

With that, Death snapped for the other servant to follow and went on his way, leaving me and my prey alone.

So very, very alone.