Chapter 14

Fourteen

~ Nate ~

When I’d first realized the princess is my mate, I knew it would complicate things. Even so, I’d been sure that once we returned to the palace and I had my hands on the treasure, it wouldn’t matter. Even if we bonded, her other mates could take care of her when I left.

But when she’d been sucked beneath the water in the bathhouse, well, I’d never before experienced the stab of fear that had almost crippled me.

I’d stumbled to the edge of the bath, limping from the agony of my burns, and I’d stared into the watery depths contemplating jumping in. Nine Lives. That’s what the angels in Toralyn called me, but I knew if I went into that water again, I wouldn’t have emerged. I was already weakened, and the fish still glowed close to the surface of the water, like guard dogs who refused to let me pass.

Prince Callan paced as I went in and out of consciousness, and I knew he was as conflicted as I was, but when the fish finally moved away to the other side of the bath, he shouted something at me and dived in.

By now, my body had transformed back, and I stayed by the edge of the water, determined to stay conscious as I waited for what felt like an eternity. Too long. They were in the water for too fuckin’ long, but then they were there, gasping as they broke the surface.

I didn’t want to acknowledge the relief I felt, but it took everything in me not to cradle my queen to my body. I wanted to stroke my hands through her hair, to touch every part of her, and to tear apart whatever had harmed her, but instead, I simply watched intently.

Ah fuck, I’m in trouble, I think as I force my thoughts back to the present. The princess hardly says a word as we walk past buildings, meet alphas, and navigate the maze of streets. On the outside, she’s as sassy and feisty as ever, but I didn’t survive this long without learnin’ how to read others. Something is bothering her, and the thought makes my inner beast unsettled.

I tear my gaze from her face now as we walk, and I point to a large house not far from us. The walls look solid despite the layer of black covering the bricks, and I can’t detect any alphas nearby.

“Let’s stop here for a while. I could use the rest,” I say, pretendin’ I’m only thinking of myself. Whatever happened in the water has affected her more than she’ll admit, and I get the feelin’ this female is even more stubborn than I am.

“For once, I agree with Nine Lives,” Prince Callan drawls.

To my relief, the princess nods absently and heads in that direction. The two-story house looks much the same as the others on this street, with a wide entranceway and dead vines crawling up the side of the building. The place is empty, and I follow Blake into the living room at the front. “I’ll take the first watch,” I volunteer. Truthfully, after the archangel healed me, I feel better than I have in quite a while.

Blake opens her mouth to protest, but Shade squawks in agitation, and Blake sighs. “Fine, but we’re only stopping for a few hours, and then we’re continuing on.”

She moves to the broken couch across the room and dusts off the aged material. Then, maneuvering her body, she begins peeling off her wet clothes and hanging them out to dry. The archangel turns, giving her privacy, but I stand there gaping like a dumb fuck who has yet to bed his first female. It’s not until she turns, her fingers stilling on the straps of her pants, that I mumble about walking the perimeter.

By the time I return minutes later, the princess is asleep, and the archangel is watching over her with a severe expression on his face.

“Careful prince, you’re startin’ to act like you like her,” I comment in a low voice as I stalk into the room.

“If things were different, I probably would,” he admits, and I’m surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Not that you can talk. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been glancing at her. Are you serious about wanting to live in her palace?”

Guilt makes my stomach roil. “It’d be an easy life.”

He sighs. “Life as a royal is many things, but it’s not easy.” Then as if he realizes he’s just confessed that out loud, he clears his throat and turns to me. “You might want to work on that lie if you expect her to believe it. I don’t know what you’re hoping to get from her, but if you try to harm our mate, I’ll happily put you back in your place.”

“I don’t doubt that, prince. I haven’t forgotten what you did in Toralyn.”

He looks at me strangely for a moment before turning his attention back to the princess.

“What about you?” I prompt. “What are your plans when it comes to the princess?”

I know his response before he even opens his mouth.

“You know why I can’t,” he replies coldly, his gaze as hard as stone. I would regret asking him if I didn’t remember what an asshole he is.

“I’ll be on the roof,” I grumble, leaving the room.

~ Princess Blake ~

Neither Prince Callan nor Nate are there when I wake, but Shade is perched on the back of the couch, and she peers my way as I sit up.

Yawning, I stretch out my limbs. “How long was I out?”

“I’m guessing around three hours.”

“Three hours?” I yawn again and my mouth is wide open when the familiar scent of chocolate reaches my nose. It’s the same smell from when I exited the bathhouse, and I snap my mouth shut, scanning the room.

“Everything okay?” Shade asks, picking up on my unsettled energy.

I narrow my eyes, my gaze flitting over the broken furniture. “Has anyone else been in here?”

“You mean aside from your mates who are trying their hardest to pretend they don’t want you, even when it’s obvious they want to bury their faces into your vagina?”

“What?”

“What?” she parrots.

I groan. I can’t deal with her rambling right now. “Never mind. I’m probably just imagining things.”

My stomach growls, and I lift from the couch and dress. The satchel of provisions is close by, and I grab out a parcel of dried bread, and make my way from the room, deciding to explore the house while I eat. I tell myself it’s not because I’m trying to avoid the others, but I don’t know who I’m trying to fool.

Shade perches on my shoulder as we make our way through the rooms on the ground floor. There’s not much to see. Charred walls. Broken pottery. The occasional scorched piece of furniture. We enter a room that has some kind of ancient burner in one corner, and I can only guess the space was designed as some kind of kitchen. The thought of a freshly cooked meal makes my stomach ache, despite the bread ration that I finished off while in the last room.

I sigh, knowing I should take over on watch duty so that one of the guys can get some rest. I’m about to leave the room when a piece of pottery buried in a pile of ash and dirt catches my eye. Bending, I pick up the rounded clay wedge and blow on it. The piece is charred, but the image of a winged bird is only just visible beneath the black.

When I go to put it back on the ground, I notice more shattered pottery closer to the wall. Likely, they’re all pieces from the same vase or bowl, but it’s not the clay shards that have my attention now. Amidst the pottery is a distinct black ring made of steel.

Squatting down, I brush away the dust and ash.

“Oh crap, is that what I think it is?”Shade practically squawks in my mind.

“I think so.” I brush my hand over the metal and hook two fingers into the ring and pull. The trap door comes free, dust pluming in the air as I reveal a set of stairs that leads down into darkness.

Shade swallows. “We’re not going down there, are we? Can’t we just close it and pretend we don’t know it’s there?”

“What? Aren’t you curious? We can’t simply turn around now.”

“Uh, yes girl, we can. In fact, let me show you.” She adjusts her feet and pivots her body so she’s facing backwards on my shoulder and looking back toward the doorway.

I grin. “If you want to go, you can. But I need to know what’s down there.”

I can practically hear her groan in my head, but she doesn’t fly off. “If I die, I want the record to state that this was your bright idea.”

“Done.”

Still grinning, I pull out one of my daggers and take a tentative step onto the first stair. It holds, the stone keeping intact beneath my feet, and I take two more steps. As I move, small yellow lights flare to life on the stairs like little glowing stars, lighting my way down. I’m on my tenth step, able to see dim shadows when light explodes around us, bright bulbs glowing brightly and buzzing where they’re suspended from the ceiling. Shade jumps on my shoulder, and I lift a hand to steady her.

“What is this place?” I say aloud in awe as I stare at what appears to be some kind of bunker. The air is cool and musty, and the walls of the space are covered in the most beautiful paintings I’ve ever seen. My eyes take in a forest filled with flowers and birds of every color of the rainbow. On another wall there’s a large fountain where water spurts from the mouths of stone fish, and on the floor near my feet is the depiction of two wings stretched out in front of a sun. It almost looks like some kind of family crest, similar to what each of the demon clans in Seral have.

Around the room, there are two chaise lounges, a marble table and chairs, and three doors leading to separate areas. I investigate what’s behind each door to find a room with two beds still dressed with sheets, some kind of antique washroom, and what looks to be a storage room with shelves packed with decorated pots. Everything is covered in a thick coat of dust, but there’s no ash, no blast damage. “It’s some kind of survival room,” I murmur out loud, hardly able to believe what I’m seeing. “I’ve always wondered, always hoped that maybe some of the beings in Perstalia survived.”

“This is amazing,” Shade says carefully, “but even if there were beings down here once, they’re not here now. If anyone had survived, we would know by now.”

The reality of her words dims my excitement. Because even if beings had survived down here, when they finally ventured to the surface again there would have been nothing for them. And without food and water they would have had no hope. But I still feel like finding this place, with the paintings preserved, feels like a win. Satisfaction goes through me at the idea that the witches didn’t destroy everything. I’m not sure why it means so much to me. Maybe because with the witches infiltrating Seral City, I worry we could end up like Perstalia. But this… My excitement rises again when I think about the fact there could be more undiscovered bunkers around the city. Due to the toxicity of the city, as far as I know the city has hardly been explored, but now that we’re aware of the bunkers, maybe I can set up a team of demons to do some exploration.

Shade flaps from my shoulder, resting on the silver chaise lounge. “I’ll say one thing. It’s nice to see more useable furniture for a change.”

I smile as I turn and sheathe my dagger, focusing on the painting of the forest. The brush strokes of the leaves are flawless, the different shades of green blending together. “Check this out, Shade. It’s so lifelike.”

When she doesn’t respond, I turn my head. “Are you all right there, or is it too much—” The words die in my throat when I glimpse her laying unnaturally still on the lounge, her eyes closed and toes curled. And then I smell it. The faint scent of chocolate touches the air, the bitter sweetness at odds with the damp, musty room. The alluring smell makes my body loosen, but I know better. A whistling sounds to my right, and I drop down in time to avoid the throwing star that was aimed at my neck. The blade clangs as it collides with the stone wall behind me and drops to the ground.

More whistling sounds, and I spring into action, narrowly dodging three more stars that fly at me from seemingly nowhere.

“Show yourself,” I snarl, landing in a crouch.

There’s a pause, and I draw my dagger as an abnormally tall, cloaked figure materializes from behind the lounge. Despite his size, his movements are agile, and he sends three more stars my way in rapid succession. I maneuver out of the way, catching the last star in mid-air before it can soar past my head. Flicking my wrist, I send it back toward the figure, and it tears through the flap of his cloak. The blade doesn’t hit flesh, but my attacker gives a grunt of surprise and satisfaction rolls through me. I scan the distinct tribal tattoos on his bare arms, the inked circles and runes forming a familiar pattern.

My eyes widen. “You’re a Drozac. One of the legendary assassins from Rostof.” I say it as more of an accusation than a question.

The figure doesn’t respond, but I see it in his cool gray eyes. The swirling hatred and cold, calculated intelligence. The Drozac are ruthless and never miss their target once they’ve been assigned one. Unfortunately for this guy, I’m about to sully his reputation.

“You shouldn’t have touched my friend,” I growl. “What did you do to her?” Shade can’t have been his target, but I don’t think the Drozac worry themselves about collateral damage. I think about the other times I’ve detected the scent of bitter chocolate, and the chilling realization that this male has been following us makes my anger rise. He targeted Shade because he sees her as my weakness.

The cloaked figure pulls out a dagger and rushes at me, but I’m quick to react, blocking his strikes and sending out a few of my own. I note the way the assassin carefully keeps his distance. He’s well-trained, able to deflect each of my moves, and his blade slices across my chest, cutting through my shirt and drawing blood.

I take a step back, but I don’t bother looking at the damage. My skin is already knitting back together. “If she’s dead, I won’t just kill you,” I say as I eye my attacker. “But you already know that, don’t you, Drozac?” I wonder what he’s seen while he’s watched me, and my thoughts go to Nate and Prince Callan. Fuck. Are they dead? I remind myself that if they were, I would have felt it, but panic still rushes through me.

The Drozac assassin’s gaze remains hard. I can only make out his stubbled chin, straight nose, and gray eyes, but it’s enough that I recognize him—the cloaked giant I glimpsed in the ballroom.

“I only plan to take one life today, and it’s not that of the bird,” he speaks for the first time, his rough voice making my stomach twist. Relief nearly crushes me. Shade’s not dead. Nate and Callan, they’re all fine. Thank Lady Fate, they’re alive. I only give myself seconds to let the news sink in, and then I’m back to glaring at the Drozac assassin. “You should have known better than to attack me like this,” I say, wishing I could see more of his face. “Now the Drozac will lose yet another brother.” I vaguely wonder why the assassin didn’t kill me while I was sleeping, but he lunges for me, raw hatred burning in his eyes.

Before he reaches me, I kick out, knocking his blade from his hand, and spinning before sweeping his feet out from under him. He falls onto his back, and before he can flip back up, I’m on him, straddling him with my blade pressed to his throat. The skin of his neck bulges just above his Adam’s apple, turning white at the pressure.

I lean in close, forcing all of my weight onto him, and almost stop breathing when his scent crashes into me. Holy Fuck. The distinct sweet bitterness of chocolate invades my senses, mixing with the scent of cool, crisp mint. My inner muscles clench, my body lighting on fire as everything in me tells me that he’s mine. No. It can’t be. I want to deny it, but he smells too good, and my stomach growls at the thought of tasting him and touching him. Desire rolls through my body making my every nerve come alive.

The hood of his cloak falls back, and my lips part in surprise as I finally stare at his face. The male is sexy as fuck with a chiseled jawline, deep-set gray eyes under dark brows, and defined cheekbones. His thick brown hair is tied behind his head, and he looks just as stunned as I feel.

“Get off me, Enchantress,” he breathes, his voice low and gruff, and I hate the way it makes my stomach squeeze as I become all too aware of him between my legs. He tries to push up, but I plant my palm on his chest, pressing him back down as I keep my blade to his throat.

No, this can’t be right.I know Lady Fate sometimes makes questionable match-making decisions but to choose a member of the Drozac as one of my mates is simply ridiculous. I lean closer to him, hoping that somehow, I’m wrong. I sniff him again, and another wave of desire makes me bite my lip. Nope. Not wrong. Well, fuck.

“What are you doing?” he growls, but I press my blade harder against his throat, silencing him.

“Hoping that my sanity will return any moment now,” I retort. “Now shut up while I try to figure this out.” I can’t kill him. Not if he’s my mate. But?—

With more strength than I’m expecting, he throws me off him, and I fly back into the wall, right into the painting of the forest. The stone cracks at the impact, along with my back, and I sag as I breathe through the pain. My body tingles, already healing in the seconds that follow, but then he’s there, his hot breath puffing on my face as he presses his tattooed forearm under my chin, squeezing my neck. I glimpse the silver cuffs around his wrists. I’d been so distracted with the fact that he’s my mate, that I’d forgotten he might use his power on me. Only the Drozac can harness the strength of their giant form while still remaining in their smaller size.

I should be angry, but even now while he’s choking me, his scent swirls in the air making my head light. The image of his hands wrapped around my neck while he pounds into me pops into my head, and I whimper. That’s right. I fucking whimper.

Heat flushes his cheeks, and he leans into me, his knee pressing hard between my thighs. I struggle to keep back a moan, and his nostrils flare. Blood trails from the corner of my mouth, and I lick at it, smiling at him.

“Great temptress,” he curses under his breath, his chest heaving.

His arm loosens under my neck, and I see my moment. I swing him around, slamming his back against the wall as I pin him there. My demon strength can’t match that of his giant form, but he only glares at me as he remains in my hold. The heat in his eyes vanishes, and he glowers at me like I’m everything he hates. I think about the Drozac assassin who had been captured in Seral years ago. The king hadn’t been merciful, and his death had been a warning to the other Drozac never to venture into our land.

But we aren’t in Seral anymore.

The assassin growls as he pushes me off, tossing me onto the table which cracks at the impact, the legs giving way. And then he’s above me, his thick thighs closing me in. His eyes flash with anger, and his face scrunches as if he’s in pain as he pins me there. I’m sure he must know I’m his mate, but maybe that doesn’t matter to a member of the Drozac?

“You can’t kill me,” I tell him, just in case he’s not smart enough to have figured it out by now. “Just like I can’t kill you.”

His face reddens like he’s struggling to control himself, and I actually feel sorry for him. His grip on my wrists loosens, and the look of pain in his expression intensifies. Seconds pass, and I’m almost certain he’s about to bust a blood vessel in his left eye, but he suddenly moves off me, staggering back to the bottom of the stairs.

“Look, I get that you hate demons,” I say slowly, “but we’re going to have to figure this out. You must know I’m your mate.”

His scowl only deepens, his jaw clenching. “Watch your back, Enchantress,” he warns, and then he legs it up the stairs.

I sigh. Great. This mate is another dud.