A QUEEN OF BROKEN REALMS

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BRYNNE WEAVER

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 To all my bookish friends who stayed with me on this
journey, thank you for always keeping me going. This book
wouldn’t have happened without you.
Much love,
Bxx

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 C O NT E NT S

Content Warnings

Playlist
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue

Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Brynne Weaver

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 C O NT E NT WA R N I N G S

Please be advised that A Queen Of Broken Realms is a dark

paranormal romance with potentially troubling themes. If
you don’t have triggers and prefer to go in blind, please
skip this page. If you have any questions about the
following triggers, please contact me at
brynneweaverbooks@gmail.com.
•Physical violence, including fighting, killing, torture
•Pregnancy and child loss
•References to infertility and forced sterilization
•Undiagnosed PTSD and panic attacks
•Profanity
•Explicit sexual content (all consensual) - includes
BDSM, blood play, knife play, breath play, impact play,
rough sex, some mild consensual non-consensual (CNC) roll
play
•A snake - not everyone loves a danger noodle - but
she's pretty badass (you might have noticed but...I love a
good snake character)

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 P L AY LI S T

O n Apple Music: Like A Queen

Astronaut - Sir Sly

High - Sir Sly
Life Itself - Glass Animals
All for You - Night Riots
Middle Fingers - MISIO
Older Now - 888
Leave You - Sir Sly
I Don’t Give a… - MISSIO (feat. Zeale)
Driven By Their Beating Hearts - Silent Film
Sweet Disaster - DREAMERS
Breaking Free - Night Riots
I See You - MISSIO
Evil - 8 Graves
Dirty - grandson
Headlights - Morning Parade
Young and In Love - A Silent Film
Color - Finish Ticket
Somebody New - Joywave
Just Movement - Robert DeLong
Us & Ourselves - Morning Parade
Critical Mistakes - 888
CASTLE OF GLASS - LINKIN PARK
Spells - Cannons
Die A Little - YUNGBLUD
Sick Thoughts - Lewis Blissett
Enjoy the Ride - Night Riots
Material Boy - Sir Sly
I Run To You - MISSIO
Blank Slate - Joywave
I’ll Wait - Kygo & Sasha Alex Sloan
Benediction - Luke Sital-Singh
Can’t Help Falling in Love - Kina Grannis
Can You Feel The Sun - MISSIO
Forever (In My Mind) - MALINDA
Scavenger - Finish Ticket
Cruel - Foxes
Kamikaze - MØ
Amor Fati - Washed Out
Fangs - Night Riots
chasing kites - iamamiwhoami & ionnalee
Crazy for Love (feat. Hanna Stone) - Mondays
Bedroom - Litany
Giver - K.Flay
Hard to Forget - Jane XØ
Paradise - Bazi
Hope - T. Thomason
Body Language - ELIO
Heat Seeker - DREAMERS
Drown (feat. Clinton Kane) - Martin Garrix
Tranquilize - Finnish Ticket
& Down - Boys Noize
Good Luck with Your Dreams - DJ DENZ The Rooster
Heaven - Amy Allen

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 CHAPTER 1

I ’m the first woman in history to be made a queen

while wearing nothing but a thin silk robe with jizz
stuck to her legs.
That’s the second loudest thought in my brain right
now.
The first is quite simple. It goes like this:
WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK.
I look across the room at all the Reapers kneeling before
me and those few thoughts are all I can grasp on to.
I’m naked under here.
I have jizz on my legs.
WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK.
A few Reapers are slower to fall to a knee, but Zida
makes quick work of whipping them into shape. She slides
off the dais with a thunk and approaches one demon who
glares up at me, refusing to bow. A look of ‘oh shit’ passes
over his face as the snake draws near. He starts to drop,
but Zida’s already decided it’s too late for him. Her massive
white head raises high into the air then comes crashing
down over the demon, engulfing his body and muffling his
scream.
She gulps him down, boots and all.
Anyone still standing drops to their knees.
 “Fuck that was super gross,” I whisper, trying not to
move my lips in case anyone is chancing a glance up at me.
“Ashen.”
“Lu,” he whispers back, not looking up from where he’s
bent before me.
“You missed it. Dude just got eaten by a snake.”
“I heard.”
Zida slithers back up onto the dais, the lump of the fresh
meal in her belly sliding past. She coils behind me, her
head hovering in the air above mine.
I’m just…I’m gonna pause right here for a minute. It’s
surely an imposing sight for anyone who dares to look up,
this bigass snake hovering over some wack hybrid vampire
chick who moments ago was the biggest bounty of their
land. So, yeah…I think I can take a second to collect myself.
I just need to glare across the room like I’ve conquered this
place all Mother of Dragons GOT style.
So, there’s silence.
A long stretch of silence.
Ashen shifts but doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have to. I
can feel the worry in him, creeping beneath my skin.
Fucking fuck. Fuck.
When Ashen offered me the match to burn this place
down or the mercy to save it, I didn’t think the latter meant
me running the place. I’ve never run shit. That probably
sounds surprising, given my super long history in the
Living Realm, but commanding armies is different from
being the fucking queen of a realm of your worst enemies.
And half the time, I didn’t even enjoy the running armies
part. I liked to mess around and fuck shit up without the
responsibility, like in the days of Tomoe Gozen. She’s the
one who ordered us into battle and led our conquests. I just
had fun chopping off heads and battling with my lady
warrior friends and eating the occasional douchebag.
Fuck.
 I’ve gotta say something. And it had better be good.
Because I’m surrounded by demons, and I can guarantee
most of them would love the chance to rip my throat out.
I walk past Ashen, and he stays down on one knee until I
stop next to his shoulder. He rises to follow just behind me,
his sword rippling with flame as we descend the dais with
Zida drifting in our wake like a wave of white scales.
The crowd parts.
I don’t let the end of the silver spear clutched in my
hand touch the floor until I stand by Eshkar’s severed head.
I look down at it for a long moment as my heart riots,
thrumming loud beats in my ears.
This is a lot to take in, not just for me, but for everyone
here, whether friend or foe or something in between.
Everything in life has seemed to pass like a great
thunderclap. So many years were just spent dragging on
and on, one to the next. And now there’s a beautiful, dark
storm, and flashes of glorious lightning, and danger and
beauty. There’s life in the living.
“We immortals are used to stasis, aren’t we,” I say,
speaking as much to the head as to anyone else, my voice
measured and quiet. “It feels like centuries go by without
change. Unending. Every day the same. Then, suddenly, a
cataclysm. And everything is different on the other side of a
moment.”
I bend down, lacing my fingers into Eshkar’s soft hair. I
stand again and turn his face toward me. I stare into his
open eyes. They look almost fake, like something from a
bad taxidermist. I peer into those glassy eyeballs and
wonder what went on behind them. How many years he
worked at shaping and molding this place to his design.
And now all his future plans are dissolving, leaking right
out of his head.
I wonder if he ever felt what I felt. The reaping. When I
lived for a breath of time within Ashen, the moment when
he took Davina out of the Living Realm. The slip of a soul,
sliding through a palm. Sorrow and fear. A demon
wrenching secrets from its keeper. Unraveling a history.
Sending the soul of an immortal to deteriorate in servitude,
or loneliness, or rage. I wonder if Eshkar ever truly felt
what the Reapers of his realm do. What Ashen did.
I lift my gaze and look across the audience. “Stasis.
That’s the insidious fallacy of time. It’s an illusion. Because
every day was different. Each one was incrementally worse
than the last. A little more despair. A touch more anger.
Regret. Guilt. It was all used against you, to keep you doing
the Council’s bidding, no matter if it was right or just. And
slowly, mercy ceased to even exist.”
I lower Eshkar’s head to my side. I look toward the
crawlers shifting at the edge of the audience, restless, their
eyes on mine. I hear the whisper of their fragmented
thoughts like I heard the hybrids in the Living Realm. And
the souls, I can feel them too. Their presence. Their
confusion and suffering.
I turn and walk back to the dais with Ashen by my side
as Zida slithers around us. I catch sight of the faint pink
mark on her scales where I wounded and then healed her.
Her head stays in line with my legs, the slit of her silver eye
watching me.
The smoke behind the dais rolls up the wall, as thick as
a waterfall. I watch it as I walk up the stairs with the spear
in my hand, and a realization washes over me. It’s as
though I’ve ascended into an epiphany.
I can still get my revenge on this place. I can make it
into what it doesn’t want to be. And the mercy I deliver will
be the match that burns anyone who stands in my way.
There’s a gust of power that seems to blow from the
bottom of my stomach, lifting my chest. It pulls at my
throat. It’s the fleeting thought that this can be mine. I can
rule this place.
I can wield power like I’ve never felt before.
 I stop at the top of the stairs and turn to the audience,
their eyes a sea of flames as they watch me back from bent
knees. “We will deliver justice. And we will deliver mercy.
We will bring this realm back to its purpose and we will
find the true war and we will win it.”
I pivot and start walking toward the center of the dais.
And that’s when I learn my first lesson as Queen of the
Reapers.
Never turn your back on the Shadow Realm.

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 CHAPTER 2

T he ax cleaves right through my momentary burst of

confidence, shattering it into a hundred tiny
fragments of bone.
A fucking ax.
Honestly, it’s a first.
You’d think in five thousand years and more battles than
I care to list that I might have encountered one lodged in
my body before. But you’d be mistaken. Arrows, yes.
Swords and daggers, of course. Pikes, yes, multiple times.
A few corkscrews, wooden stakes (stupid humans and your
myths), a pencil, even a mace in my guts once, which was
pretty fucking gross. But an ax? No. I didn’t even notice
someone holding one.
Lesson Two of the Shadow Realm: pay closer attention
to who is carrying what.
Lesson Three is one I’ve known for a long time. I just
need to apply it despite my shock and pain and rage.
Don’t let them see you weak.
The shunk of the ax lodging into bone still reverberates
in my mind. My scapula and the ribs beneath are shattered,
pins of bone and the sharpened edge of the blade piercing
into my lung. I manage to stay upright by leaning on the
spear still clutched in my hand. Thick blood cascades into
my chest with every torturous breath.
 Don’t let them see you weak.
Zida’s rage is incandescent, as blinding as her brilliant
white scales. She coils around my legs and keeps me
standing as she hisses at the audience. But before she can
descend the dais and strike at the onlookers, Ashen is
already there.
I look over my uninjured shoulder. The crowd is parted,
watching as Ashen clasps the ax-thrower’s throat in a vice
grip. The demon is big, burly. Thickly muscled. Definitely
the ax-carrying type. He reminds me of Gallus. But where
he’s blocky, he’s also slow. A little cumbersome. By
comparison, Ashen is tall and swift, strong but with the
kind of power that’s graceful and lithe. He’s fluid,
adaptable. And cunning.
Ashen squeezes the demon’s throat, his rippling blade
aimed at the rival Reaper’s heart.
“You dare to injure my wife.” Ashen’s voice is cold.
Clear. Measured. The control he has over his rage makes
him ten times more menacing than usual.
“She is no queen,” the man spits through gritted teeth.
His eyes flick to mine.
Ashen tightens his grip, pressing the tip of his sword to
the man’s chest. “You dare to even look at her. In fact, I will
make sure you cannot.”
His movement is faster than I can even track.
One moment Ashen’s hand is around the demon’s throat,
the next his sword is clattering against the floor as he
presses the man’s cheekbones between his palms. The
tattoos on Ashen’s knuckles glow as though sensing the
power of war within his skin. And from nowhere, Cole
appears, materializing from the crowd like vapor. He pulls
the struggling demon’s arms behind his back.
Ashen’s thumbs lay over the ax-thrower’s closed eyes.
The man twists desperately between Cole and Ashen, but
despite his bulk and size, he hardly moves my Reaper. All
Ashen has to do is apply a little more pressure with his
thumbs and the demon falls to his knees, as malleable as
clay in Ashen’s hands.
“Let me make something abundantly clear for all of you,
if you will excuse the irony,” Ashen grits out. He presses his
thumbs into the man’s eyes so slowly, drawing out every
second of the agony he creates and molds with his touch. I
hear the squish as he punctures the gelatinous orbs, like
the juicy pulp of fruit collapsing beneath his fingertips. The
demon in his grasp screams and thrashes, but still I hear
that squelch, and every drop of blood and ruined flesh that
falls to splatter on the floor. “Leucosia of Anthemoessa is
your Queen. No one harms her. No one touches her. And if
you even look at her in a manner that I do not like, I will
take your eyes and make you suffer.”
Cole lets go of the demon’s arms. Ashen raises his foot
and kicks the man’s chest, releasing the pressure of his
grip. The demon falls to the floor, shaking, screaming, his
hands raised to cover the sightless holes where his eyes
once were.
“Cyrus,” Ashen bellows. A soldier steps forward. His
dark hair is tied back with a thread of leather, his black
eyes filled with a languid sort of flame. He has a neatly
trimmed beard and dark olive skin that seems to glow, even
in the dim light.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have someone take him to the cage. Strip him. Remove
anything in the cell that he could use to kill himself with. I
do not want him in the Resurrection Chamber. Not yet. You
go to the Chamber and check on those resurrecting. Take
half the Shub Lugal with you and we will meet you there.”
Cyrus gives a stiff nod, careful not to look at me though I
almost feel his desire to do so. He beckons another soldier
over to drag the bloodied demon away, the crowd parting
as they disappear into the shadows between the pillars with
twenty of what must be the elite Shub Lugal soldiers with
them.
 Ashen glares across the audience. “Did I make myself
clear, Shadow Realm? Because if not, I will gladly unburden
you of your eyes, one by one.”
No one moves. I can barely hear anything beyond the
rumble of my punctured lung and the galloping beat of my
distressed heart.
Imani rises and takes a single step forward. She looks at
me with a subtle smile. There’s determination in her face.
She knows her power, and this is a game she can play.
“Hail Queen Leucosia,” she says, her voice echoing to
the highest reaches of the tall ceiling.
A chorus responds. Hail Queen Leucosia.
This is the most fucking surreal moment of my life.
A month ago, I was in the dungeon beneath this very
hall, tortured and broken. Ready to die.
Days ago, I let my heart win over my mind, choosing to
love the demon I thought betrayed me to this place.
Hours ago, I died, resurrecting here in the realm of my
enemies.
And now I’m the Queen of the Shadow Realm, standing
on the dais with an ax in my back and a giant snake coiling
around my legs.
Fucking wild. Dizzying and terrifying and a little exciting
and super painful right now, quite honestly. This ax is still
just hanging out of my shoulder like a single iron wing.
Ashen gives a final sweeping look across the room
before turning to me. When he faces me, the black flame of
rage in his eyes roils as though caught in a wind. He climbs
the steps of the dais with Cole in his wake, and only now do
his wings erupt, as dark as night with heavy smoke and
brilliant sparks. His eyes bore into mine and I understand.
He wanted no obstructions between us. He wanted me to
see it. And now he wants me to see only him.
“Soldiers,” he says as he stops in front of me, raising his
hand to my face. He’s careful not to mark my skin with the
blood that coats his thumb and streaks across his palm. I
stagger on my feet. No one can see but him. “Get everyone
out. Out of the Kur. Back to their houses or wherever the
fuck they’re supposed to be and keep them there. If they
disobey, kill them. Permanently.”
Zida hisses at the crowd to put a final scaly stamp on his
order. There are shouts and shuffling, and in a few
moments the last footsteps exit the building, the heavy
doors at the other end of the hall closing with an echoing
thud.
The second they do, I pitch forward with a wheeze into
Ashen’s arms, dropping the spear and the head with a
clang and a thud. I taste blood in my mouth and spray a
cough of it like a cloud of dark mist into the air.
“All right, vampire?” Ashen asks, his voice strained.
“Never better.”
Ashen sets me down on my knees, draping my torso
across Zida’s body. He positions my arms so I can brace
myself against her, firming his grip on my forearms in a
wordless request for me to hold on. Then he lays a foot on
Zida’s scales and grips the handle of the ax. “Ready
yourself, vampire.”
Before I can even tell him to do it, the ax is sliding out of
my lung. I can’t contain my anguished cry as it grinds
against the split bone. Ashen tosses it across the dais as
soon as it’s free of my flesh. My chest rumbles, blood
rushing into my lung.
“I am so sorry, my Lu. Drink.” Ashen holds his wrist to
my mouth and I slide my fangs into his skin, closing my
eyes as I draw in his blood. It charges down my throat like
a lightning strike. I feel my flesh begin to knit together, the
pins of shattered bone shifting back into place. In a few
pulls of blood, the injury is healed enough that I can move
my shoulder. “Much faster than usual,” Ashen observes.
I let go of his wrist and nod, still recovering my breath
as Urtur comes to investigate, shoving his nose beneath my
arm with a gentle whine. “Hybrid level-up. I saw one struck
by a blade on the battlefield. The dagger should have taken
it down, but the creature barely slowed.” I turn my
attention to Cole. “It’s so good to see you.”
That boyish, surfer-boy smile brightens his skin. “Same
here. Queen, huh? Ediye will be so excited to hear this
gossip.”
The sting of tears gathers behind my eyes as Cole leans
down to give me a hug. His warmth seeps through the silk
of my robe that suddenly feels so cold as the adrenaline
subsides, leaving jittering, sparking nerves in its absence.
“Is she okay? Is everyone okay?”
“Yeah, Lu. They’re good. I mean, Ediye sent me here to
check on you even though it might result in my everlasting
death, so I know where I stand in the order of things.”
I laugh and grip him tighter. Tears of relief nearly shake
free from the edges of my eyes as the vibrations of shock
quiver through my flesh. “Hoes before mo-fos, you know
the drill. Don’t take it personally.”
“I know,” Cole says through a laugh as he pulls away to
press a kiss to my cheek. “That was clear from day one.”
Cole’s hands slip behind my neck. The cool gold chain
glides across my collarbones as the familiar weight of the
small pendant settles against my skin. “My necklace,” I
whisper, touching the delicate links.
“You left that behind in the snow when you turned to
cinders on us. I never thought I’d be so relieved to see
someone collapse into a heap of dust.”
Ashen claps a hand on Cole’s shoulder as the demon
stands. He extends a hand to him. “I’m sorry that I
threatened to turn your eyes into cake pops in Cairo.”
Cole smiles and takes Ashen’s forearm. The grip of two
soldiers. My heart is ready to burst open and spill glitter
across my ribs as I watch their exchange. “Well, looks like
you’ve scratched that particular itch for the moment.” Cole
winks at me and I grin as Ashen claps him on the shoulder
once more, a little harder this time. Cole’s smile broadens
but quickly fades as he shifts his gaze between me and
Ashen. “I can’t stay. I need to let the others know you’re
okay. We’re at the coven over the mountain from
Valentina’s estate. The hybrids and werewolves are keeping
their distance. We’ll make sure it’s safe for whenever you
can make it back.”
“We will come as soon as we can,” Ashen says, and Cole
gives a single nod in reply before he turns and starts down
the steps of the dais. “Cole…”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything that you’ve done for us.”
Cole tries to contain a smile, but he can’t keep it from
his eyes. He gives one more nod and jogs down the steps,
skirting around the bodies on the floor as he heads through
the long, quiet hall.
“You’re growing soft, Reaper,” I say as I reach up and
take Ashen’s offered hand.
“I blame that entirely on you.” Ashen gives me a
subdued smile before he gathers me in his arms, lifting me
from Zida. He turns to stride down the dais, the smoke and
sparks swirling around us like a billowing gown.
“Spear,” I say, pointing to the floor.
“I’ll come for it later. Zida will guard it.”
“Head,” I say, pointing to Eshkar’s blood-spattered face.
“I’ll come back for that too.”
“Feet.” I point to my toes that poke out from the edge of
my robe. “I can walk.”
“I know you can. But I’m not having your soles stained
by the blood of your enemies.”
My heart tumbles in my chest. I loop my arms behind
Ashen’s neck and tilt my head back to smile at him. “That’s
very romantic, Reaper. So was the eyeball thing.”
Ashen regards me for a long moment as we walk.
There’s affection and pride surfacing in his eyes with every
step he takes, drowning out the worry and rage that still
roll through the black flame. “Your idea of romance is
perhaps a bit dark.”
“Pfft. You love my dark side.”
Ashen lifts me closer as though I weigh nothing, placing
a lingering kiss to my forehead. “You are right. I do.”
I lay my face to Ashen’s matte black armor, wishing I
could press my skin to his warmth. Even through the cool,
thick metal I can still hear the steady thud of his heart and
the whoosh of air swirling in his lungs. It’s soothing. The
one steady percussion in the melody of chaos.
The further we walk from the dais, the closer we seem
to get to reality. The reality that this is still a super messed-
up place, as evidenced by the souls who drift in the
shadows and the scuttling of the few crawlers who stayed
behind in the Kur when the demons left. There’s also the
reality that I’m now supposed to be running this ridiculous
circus, despite the fact that I know very little about this
realm. I’m aware some shady shit goes on here, no
surprise. I’m sure Leander was honest when he spoke
about hunts and the gauntlet, whatever the fuck that is.
But, like…I don’t even know about regular, everyday stuff.
Where do I buy booze? And with what money? Where do I
go to get a wax? Shit’s gonna start getting real feral
downstairs if I don’t get answers soon.
Plus, there’s the more important issue. Namely, I don’t
know how to lead a bunch of demons who literally just
stabbed me in the back. I’ve been hiding for three hundred
years, for fucksakes. Anonymity has kinda been my jam.
This is quite the opposite from my recent lifestyle in
Sanford. And even if it wasn’t, even if I was some kind of
vampire siren socialite, it still doesn’t mean I know shit
about leading a realm.
These thoughts just keep swirling in my head like a
whirlpool, sucking me under. I don’t say anything as we
arrive at a black carriage, Ashen setting me down on the
first step. I get in and sit back against my torn robe, my
shoulder still a painful physical reminder of the hacked-up
thoughts scattered in my brain. Ashen climbs in after me
and closes the door, and the carriage lurches ahead, pulling
away from the Kur.
I feel a thousand things all at once, rolling through my
head just like the wheels gliding beneath us on the dark
road. What the fuck, that seems to be a dominant thought.
Dread is equally mixed with an odd kind of excitement, like
I’m on a dodgy carnival ride with rusty bolts and it might
be fun but I’m not entirely sure I won’t die. A devious
whisper reminds me I now have the power to dismantle this
realm and even rebuild it the way I want, but that thought
is always drowned out by the enormity of the task ahead. I
feel moments of relief sitting across from Ashen, who’s
watching me with both suspicion and a bit of amusement in
his faint smile. But then other moments I just feel like
squirming from beneath the weight of his gaze and the
scrutiny in the dim flame that ripples through his eyes. I
guess my super expressive face must be at full expression
capacity and he looks like he doesn’t want to miss a
moment.
I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. I look out the
window to the Bay of Souls and that definitely doesn’t
fucking help. My whole body writhes involuntarily and I
drag my hands down my face.
“Vampire—”
“How do I stop this thing?”
“Stop what thing?”
“This fucking ghost carriage. I need to get out.”
“You can’t just get out. We’re in the middle of the
bridge.”
“I need to get out. Is there a secret code? Is it ‘stop the
fucking ghost carriage?’ STOP THE FUCKING GHOST
CARRIAGE. Right now. Get me out.”
“Lu—”
 “You’re telling me I’m the Queen and I can’t even stop
this wack ride? What the fuck, Ashen. Get me out. Get me
out get me out get me out get me out.”
Ashen pounds three times on the roof of the carriage
and it lurches to a halt. I’m out the door before the wheels
have even stopped turning.
“Lu…” Ashen says behind me. I can hear both
amusement and concern in the way he says my name, but
I’m too busy pacing by the stone railing of the bridge to
stop and look at him. “Lu, you are freaking out, as Ediye
would say.”
“I know that. Of course I’m fucking freaking out. You
just made me Queen of the goddamn Shadow Realm. What
the fuck, Ashen. Can you even do that?”
“Well…I did. So…yes.”
“Then un-Queen me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“I would have to stage a coup. That would not look very
good against my wife. Too reminiscent of Catherine the
Great, really. It would not lend a lot of support to the idea
that we have a solid marriage.”
“Well good, because we don’t have a fucking marriage,
Ashen,” I say, twinkling my ringless fingers in front of his
face as his grin grows more wicked. I jab him on his armor
where his mark lies above his heart. “We are mated. Not
the same thing.”
“Pretty much the same.”
“Not at all the same.”
Ashen smiles as I level him with a flat glare. His gaze
drops down the center of my robe, down to my bare toes.
“And how are you planning on getting to our
accommodations? Walking?”
“Umm, yes. Unless you’ve suddenly developed
teleportation skills I don’t know about.”
“But you have no shoes. And you’re in a robe.”
 “Yes, thank you. I hadn’t noticed until you told me. It’s
not like I was thinking about it the entire time I was on the
dais being given the title of Queen of the fucking Shadow
Realm. It totally hadn’t occurred to me that I’m naked
under here with fucking jizz on my legs.”
Ashen snorts a laugh and looks across the sea before
catching my irate glare. His eyes soften as his head tilts.
“Pick your battles, vampire,” he says as he reaches up to
shift a strand of hair from my temple, securing it behind my
ear.
“I am. I’m picking this one.” I stay locked in Ashen’s
scrutiny for a short moment before I pivot past him,
heading for the souls yoked to our carriage who wait with
eternal patience for our next instructions. “Where do the
souls sleep?”
“Sleep?”
“Yes, Reaper. For fucksakes. Sleep. You know what
sleeping is. It’s what you do on a bed when you’re not
banging on those ridiculous sex sheets of yours. Where do
they sleep?”
Ashen snickers at my reference to his sheets that I want
to hate yet still can’t, but quickly subdues his grin as he
takes in the ferocity of my glare. He shrugs and looks
around. “Anywhere,” he says with a sweeping gesture of his
hand. “They kind of stand in place and…sway.”
“Th… they… sss. Errrgh.” My ability to make words
seems to evaporate as irritation boils over into rage. I take
a breath and try again. “They sway? They fucking sway?”
“Yes…pretty much.”
I let out a frustrated growl. I even stomp my bare foot on
the road. And then I march over to the closest soul and grip
the iron clamped around her neck, working at the bolt that
keeps her tethered to the carriage.
“Can’t you reap a fucking horse?” I toss over my
shoulder as I release the clasp and approach the next soul.
It’s a warlock. His thoughts are slow but loud and I try to
push them away, careful not to touch his skin in case it
makes him harder to ignore.
“Why would I want to reap a horse?”
“To pull your carriages, why do you think, dumbass?”
“Is it like a werehorse?”
“A werehorse?”
“A werehorse. An immortal being who changes from a
human into a horse.”
I pause and turn toward Ashen. “What…the fuck…does
that exist? Have I been missing out on werehorses all my
life?”
“…No.”
I look out across the Black Sea as though I might find
help there. Of course, there is none. I drag my hands down
my face and take a deep breath, which accomplishes
nothing. “Why?”
“Why do werehorses not exist?”
I drop my head into my hands and let out some kind of
strangled sound of frustration and anguish. My throat is
burning and twisting beneath my skin. I turn toward Ashen,
my fingers still pressing into my cheekbones. “Jesus H.
Christ in a chicken basket, Ashen. No. Though maybe yes,
for convenience. But also NO.” I sigh as my hands fall to my
sides. “Why are you messing with me?”
Ashen shrugs, his gaze darting away before finding mine
again with a glint of amusement buried deep beneath the
sparks. “Well, you have defiled my butter multiple times.
There had to be retribution at some point.”
“You…you’re doing this to me because of…butter?
Butter, Ashen?”
He laughs. The fucking audacity. He laughs. That stupid,
wonderful, spellbinding sound. I cross my arms over my
essentially naked chest and glare fury at him, which only
makes him laugh again. I want to hate that sound, as much
as I want to hate those sex sheets of his, but I can’t. That
timbre, the rarity, the precious warmth…it fills my chest
with just enough heat to burn away at least some of the
panic that creeps beneath my ribs, eating my bones.
“No, vampire,” Ashen says as he takes my elbows,
cradling them in his steady, warm palms. “Of course not.”
My brows stitch together. Desperation is like a tight lace
that pulls my skin taut. “Why? Ashen…I am not made for
this. All of this. I’m not a queen. I’m not. Not in any time, or
any place. Especially here.”
Ashen ducks his head to keep hold of my eyes when I try
to look away. His grip on my elbows grows firmer when I
feel like I’m vibrating. Everything about him is like an
anchor. And he just waits, as steady as that iron hook
lodged in the silt at the end of a heavy chain. He watches
until I go still for a moment in the storm. “You are exactly
the queen that the Shadow Realm needs. You are the only
one who can heal this place.”
“I’m not.”
Ashen’s hands frame my face as tears well in my eyes.
“You are, Lu. You are the balance between shadow and
light. You change the people you’re with. You bind them
together. And when they can’t get behind you, you do what
needs to be done. You are not afraid to make a friend. And
you are not afraid to kill an enemy.”
“But I’m not ready for this,” I whisper.
“No one is ready for destiny.”
“What if this isn’t my destiny at all?”
“What if it is?” Ashen watches me as I look out to the
sea, searching the black water for answers. He tugs on my
sleeves and reels me in like a rare creature captured from
its darkest depths. His arms fold across my back and he
waits until I lose a little of the tension coiling through my
back before he speaks again. “Lu, you are the one person
who looks at these souls and sees them. Really sees them.
Cares for them. Wants to change this place for them. You
believe the Shadow Realm could be different. Just like you
believed I could be different, or Urtur or Zida.”
 I blow a thin stream of air through my tense lips. “This
is madness, Ashen.”
“You are right. It is madness. Look at you, here in the
middle of the bridge, wearing nothing but a robe and…
jizz…stopping a carriage so that you can let these souls go.
It’s the best madness imaginable. And I was wrong just
now. You are right to choose this battle. The only one I truly
think you should give up is the one against yourself.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then maybe that is the first thing you need to learn as
Queen. How to lay down arms against yourself.”
I sigh against Ashen’s armored chest. “That sounds all
wise and logical and shit. I don’t like it. Can’t I just
continue to freak out for a while?”
Ashen puffs a breath of a laugh, stirring the blood-
encrusted hair on my shoulder. “You are the Queen. Do
what you need to do. If you need to freak out until it gets
old, then freak out.”
“You mean like killing you got old?”
“You and I both know it did not get old.”
“You’re right,” I say. “It didn’t. Especially not if it results
in sex in the Resurrection Chamber. I’ll be killing you all
the time if that’s the deal.”
I rise on my toes and steal a kiss as we release one
another from our embrace. We head back to the carriage to
free the remaining four souls from their iron yokes. “What
about sex in the Council Palace?” Ashen asks, releasing
another clasp.
“You mean where Eshkar and Imogen lived? Eww.”
“Hmm. Good point.”
“What about your room at House Urbigu?”
Ashen’s eyes darken. He keeps his gaze away from mine.
“Not habitable.”
“Right,” I say, letting a soul free of its shackles. “I
heard.”
 Ashen’s gaze flicks to mine, his jaw ticking. A quiet
grunt is all he has to say about the room he destroyed when
I was captured by his realm.
We work in silence, releasing the last souls who wander
away, listless and alone. We watch them for a moment
before Ashen slips his hand into mine. I feel a ripple of
anxiety in him, teasing at the flesh beneath my mated
mark, and I wonder what it’s for.
“Come on, vampire. I know a place we can go.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 3

W e walk for a long while, absorbed by the fog as we

progress further from the bay, stopping only briefly
when we pass the Resurrection Chamber to pick up the
waiting soldiers who follow a careful distance behind us.
Urtur catches up and leads the way, his amber eyes
reflecting on the haze. Crawlers pass us now and then but
stay obscured by the mist. Everything around us is quiet,
quieter than I’ve ever heard here before. But I feel them.
The presence of souls, their thoughts pushing on the veil I
try to keep between us to separate my mind from theirs.
And watchful eyes, observing our presence from the cover
of silence. I’m not sure if they’re demons, or beasts, or
souls, or maybe something else altogether. Perhaps even
memories and fears, breathed to life from imagination.
We continue past House Urbigu, down the streets until I
don’t see the looming shapes of buildings anymore. It feels
like there’s open space beyond the twilight fog, like things
growing and living. But I can’t see them past the road, only
the grass that lines its edges and the occasional shrub with
dark green leaves that have probably never seen real sun.
Gradually, the road lifts up a hill. The surface is more
pitted and crumbling with lack of use and maintenance. I
hear the sea in the distance to my right, crashing against
stone.
 “Where are we going?” I ask.
“You’ll see. Almost there.”
We turn off the road down an overgrown path. It’s only a
few more moments of climbing the hill before a ruined
building takes shape, rising through the fog at the edge of
a silver cliff. The mist is thinner here and rolls on a breeze
that carries the faint scent of sulfur and the sea.
The facade of the structure has crumbled away, but even
still, I can tell it was once a beautiful, palatial home. The
hewn edges on the broken stone were once carefully cut
and smoothed, and what still stands remains level on a
solid foundation. There’s no glass in the windows, no door
on the rusted hinges. But when we step inside, the essence
of this place still hums with the memory of usefulness, like
it’s proud of what it once was. Maybe even like it hopes for
what it could be again.
Ashen orders the Shub Lugal to form a perimeter before
he leads us through the door and into a foyer where
greenery has taken up much of the empty space. There’s a
path through it, worn but not frequently used, sparse
blades of grass poking through the channel of dirt. A
massive fireplace is nestled into the wall on the left. A torn
tapestry flutters down the opposite wall, the image too
dirty to be visible through the damaged threads. Ashen
pays none of it any attention. He’s been here before, looked
at it all.
“What is this place?” I ask as we start to climb a wide
set of winding stairs.
“Truthfully, I cannot be sure. It fell into ruin before my
time. Some say Eshkar had a wife before Imogen, and that
it belonged to her. Others say it’s a relic of the gods. But I
just think of it as mine. No one else ever comes here but
me.”
“Why not?”
Ashen shrugs, his hand still clasped around mine as we
continue up the stairs. “Most demons like order. Things in
their place. Things that are new and glossy and opulent.
Not things that are broken.”
“Most demons,” I say, repeating his words. “Is that why
you like me? You like broken things?”
I don’t mean anything by the joke other than to rib
Ashen like I usually do, or at least I don’t think so. But he
wheels on me, pinning me with a fierce look that has me
taking a step back in reflex. My back touches the cold
stone.
“No, vampire. That is not why.” Ashen’s gaze inflames
my skin. Hot blush floods my cheeks. He watches as it
flares and fades away. “You have never been broken.”
I swallow, memories of the cage beneath the Kur
surfacing like a bloated corpse. “Are you sure?”
“You’re here, the Queen of the Shadow Realm. Not even
this place could break you, and now it is yours. So, you tell
me.” I make no counter argument as Ashen’s fingers trace
the line of my cheek. He grasps my jaw, keeping my gaze
fused with his. “You are the strongest person I have ever
known, my vampire. The furthest thing from broken.”
I swallow as though drinking down those words to store
them like a precious spell against future darkness. When
the heat in his eyes subsides, Ashen pulls away and takes
my hand once more, leading me in his wake.
We reach a landing, and the space opens to a wide patio
embraced by the veiled sky and the cliffs jutting up around
the high retaining walls. Silver stone arches flow at regular
intervals ahead of us like whale bones, a frame for the most
beautiful display of art I’ve ever seen.
A garden of sculptures and blooms.
Like anything in the Shadow Realm, it has a haunted
quality about it. Lush, deep green leaves that seem a bit too
dark flow alongside the walls and beneath the feet of the
subjects of the sculptures. Some are made of stone, some
are metal. Copper, polished to keep the green patina from
dulling their shine. Brass, buffed until it glows despite the
dim light. Some are even terracotta, more blocky than their
kin, their style ancient and symmetrical.
The statues are laid out along a winding path that’s
framed by unlit lanterns. Orchids hang suspended from the
arches like stars. Massive dahlias light the shadows with
colorful blooms. Unfamiliar crimson flowers as large as my
fist peek from the shadows, beckoning me to pluck their
velvet petals. The twisted branches of low, ornamental
trees reach out toward the path as though calling us closer
with their long fingers. And in the center of the entrance to
the garden, a trickling fountain of black stone, the water
flowing from the shoulders of a kneeling man, his head
bent. I can almost feel the weight of regret and sorrow and
loneliness pressing on his back.
“Ashen…” I whisper, letting go of his hand to take a step
on the curved path. “You did this?”
It takes him a long moment before he answers. “Yes.”
I reach out to the fountain figure, the water of his wings
rolling across my fingers. “How long have you spent
creating this place?”
“I don’t know exactly. A very long time,” Ashen says as
he takes a step toward me, laying a lighter in my palm. He
nods toward the first statue and its lantern. It feels like he’s
giving me a key to his soul. “Go ahead.”
I look at the cool metal in my hand for a long moment
before I curl my fingers around it. I start down the path. I
light the lantern next to a terracotta soldier, a man dressed
for battle, his armor like layers of fish scales. His almond
eyes and long beard give the impression of ancient wisdom,
like an apothecary or a warlock. I tstay long enough to ake
in the details and then walk to the next figure. It’s
limestone, worn and repaired in places where the rain must
have battered her figure over centuries of time. Her hands
are folded in front of her stomach, her head is turned to the
side but it’s that of a lioness.
 “A witch. A shapeshifter,” I whisper, skimming my
fingers down the line of her arm. I look back at Ashen and
he nods. I light her lantern and move toward the next
figure.
Each sculpture grows more detailed, the techniques
more refined, the materials and tooling more precise.
There’s a bronze statue like the Capitoline Wolf, but rather
than Romulus and Remus suckling from her engorged
teats, there are three half-wolf, half-human young crouched
beneath her lithe body. Werewolves. And later, a stone
image of a man with long fangs in his gaping mouth, his
hand outstretched to the viewer in a desperate plea for
mercy. I light his little lantern and pause to wonder which
one of my sisters turned him into a vampire.
I keep making my way deeper into the garden, lighting a
fire for each soul captured along the way. Ashen follows me
like a shadow until I near a marble statue, the detail so
stunning and lifelike that it crushes the breath right out of
my chest. It’s as though Ashen has been refining this
sculpture for centuries, never fully satisfied with the
minute details.
I know why.
Because he felt like it could never capture the depth of
his grief.
I press my lips together. I try to keep the tears trapped
against my eyelashes, but they can’t be contained. One by
one, they crest the dam to fall across my skin.
This sculpture is a woman in white marble, a veil
obscuring her downturned face. Even though I can’t see
her eyes, I know exactly where she’s looking. She’s gazing
at a beautiful baby, his head nestled in the crook of her
elbow, his chunky leg draped over her arm. The baby’s tiny
hand reaches up toward her, never able to touch his
mother’s face.
It’s Davina. And the child she and Ashen almost had.
 My fingertips are so cold against my lips. It’s such a
beautiful regret. A stunning sorrow. A loss Ashen couldn’t
possibly have fathomed in that moment when his sword felt
too heavy with the weight of two souls in his hand.
This demon who captures more of my heart with every
moment that passes, he’s spent centuries of time punishing
himself for something beyond his control.
There’s only one lantern at this statue. I light it. And
then I bend down and gather broken twigs and crisp, dead
leaves. I place them in a mound on the baby’s rippling
blanket and light a second flame. I run my hand over the
infant’s cool head, trying so hard to imagine the wisp of
hair and the scent of milk and the soft skin that could have
warmed Ashen’s palm. I place a kiss to the baby’s forehead
and then move away, tears still stinging in my eyes.
There are more statues, some becoming a little more
abstract the closer we get to the end of the path. The style
and materials become more modern. Some even include
objects scavenged in the Living Realm, like a werewolf
draped in a torn leather jacket, or a witch who holds a
delicate ampule in her carved hand. I light each lantern,
and then round a curve in the path to the last statue. I feel
that ripple of Ashen’s anxiety beneath my skin and I press
my hand to the scepter on my chest.
This statue is alive.
There’s no lantern. It doesn’t need one. The gold leaf
within the glass sculpture catches even the dimmest light,
illuminating the work from within. Metallic seams of color
infuse the glass, from bright crimson to teal to fuchsia to
deep, shimmering purple. She looks like she’s dancing on a
bed of wind orchids, raised on the ball of one foot with her
hand pitched behind her for balance. But her other hand
lifts a glass sword, striking out toward an unseen opponent.
Her face is covered by a golden mask.
I know exactly who she is.
 “It’s me,” I whisper, touching the smooth line of my arm
in glass.
That current of Ashen’s anxiety hums beneath my skin.
“Yes.”
“You’re nervous to show me. Did you think I wouldn’t
like it?”
Ashen pauses for a long moment. I look at him over my
shoulder. His gaze is caught on the statue, his eyes
following the lines of his art. “I thought you would think it
strange.”
“Strange?..”
Ashen shrugs. He’s still not able to meet my eyes. “Like
some kind of stalker shrine.”
I laugh, and finally he looks at me. “A stalker shrine? No,
Ashen. You’d need more candles and grainy black and
white photos and magazine cut-out collages for that.” I give
him a fleeting smile before I face the statue once more, my
lips parted in awe as I touch the golden mask. “It’s
stunning. Magical. Not strange. When did you do this?”
“When I left Sanford,” he says, stopping next to me. I
feel him watching as I take in every tiny bubble and spark
of color in the glass. “I thought I could stay away. As it
turns out, I could barely manage four days.”
I tilt my head, regarding him with an accusatory smile.
“But when we first went to Ediye’s, you said you couldn’t
travel to the Shadow Realm without me.”
“I lied.” A sheepish smile crosses the Reaper’s face, his
gaze drifting away from mine. He shrugs. “The bond magic
was uncomfortable the first time we separated, but really I
just did not want to part from you.”
A teasing little tsk passes my lips before I let him off the
hook and turn my attention back to the statue. “That tattoo
did get pretty itchy. I contemplated chewing my arm off.”
Ashen’s hand comes into view and I follow the line of his
pointing finger. I look closer at the sculpture’s outstretched
arm wielding the sword. Sunu liiktisuma is etched on the
surface of the glass.
“If it was just that, I could have stayed away,” Ashen
says, moving incrementally closer. “It wasn’t as unpleasant
as not being able to see your animated expressions, or the
irritation in your eyes when I knocked on your door every
day, or the way you swept up everyone in that town without
ever saying a word. It was magnetic. It was…adorable.”
I snort a laugh and turn to Ashen. My amusement
momentarily flees as I catch the heated look in his eyes. I
swallow and give him a doubtful glance before flicking my
gaze back to the statue.
“Adorable. Are you sure that’s not in the same category
as ‘cuddle’?”
Ashen comes closer still. His attention is honed on me as
though nothing else exists. I can’t keep my gaze from
straying back to him. “I’m sure, vampire. Your irritation
was definitely adorable, particularly when it boiled over
and you threw it back at me, burrowing under my skin. In
all my immortal life, I’ve never been as simultaneously
enraged and enthralled by anyone.”
“Someone had to put you in your place, you know,” I say,
raising my chin to give him a haughty look. “You strode
around the Swan like the hottest piece of ass to ever walk
through its doors.”
A devious smile lifts one corner of Ashen’s lips. “Your
colleague Anna certainly thought so.”
I gasp. Actually gasp. Jesus. What a fucking amateur
move of me. I smack his shoulder and bite down on my lip
to punish myself for the flame of rage that eats through my
flesh and colors my skin with blush. Ashen’s smile broadens
and he laughs. He feels that burst of jealousy through our
mark. Motherfucker.
“You’re such a dick, you know that, right?”
Ashen’s arm snakes across my back. His other hand
sweeps my hair over my shoulder so he can nestle a kiss to
my throat. “You know I was only trying to see if you felt
anything at all for me aside from mistrust and the urge to
bathe in my blood. When you stalked off to find that
groundskeeper for a card game, I figured there might be
more for me than just malice there.”
My hands slide up Ashen’s arms even though I try to
hang onto my irritation. He presses one lingering kiss after
another to my pulse as he guides us further down the path,
one step at a time.
“You’re mistaken,” I say, a blatant lie. “I only wanted to
bathe in your blood. And maybe kill you with a toilet
brush.”
Even despite my words, I still hop up to wrap my legs
around Ashen’s back and my arms around his neck. I tilt my
head to the side to luxuriate in his hot kisses. I rake my
fingernails through his dark hair and he moans into my
skin.
“What about now?” he whispers between nips and licks
and kisses my neck.
“Huh?”
Ashen’s smile warms my jaw. “Killing me. Bathing in my
blood.”
“Oh...yeah. That’s…” I trail off, my words breathless as
Ashen’s hand sweeps the silk robe open across my thigh,
his rough palm scouring up my leg until he grips my ass,
holding me closer. His erection presses through the seam of
his pants and sets my core aching with need. “Killing.
That’s umm… It’s…something.”
“Vampire,” Ashen whispers. He takes my earlobe
between his teeth and I shiver. “You seem to be distracted.”
“It’s been a day.”
“It has. And it’s not over yet,” Ashen says with a wicked
edge to his voice. It cuts through the swell of the pulse
humming in my ears. “It’s far from over, in fact.”
“You sound like a man with a plan.”
“Maybe.”
 “A demon with semen.”
“Dear Christ.”
“A Reaper carpet eater?..”
Ashen pauses. He pulls away and meets my eyes. I can’t
help snickering and he bursts out into the most uninhibited
laugh I’ve ever heard him make. It resonates in his chest. It
vibrates right through my heart, shaking off every clinging
worry and fear like they were never more than dust.
“Vampire. I wonder what I would find if I lived in your
mind for just a day,” he says as he sets me on my feet, his
hand hot on my backside. The essence of his smile is still
etched into the corners of his eyes. Those faint lines are an
echo, like music clinging to the source.
“It would terrify you, I’m sure.”
“I used to think so.”
I look up at Ashen with a lopsided grin. “Not anymore?”
“No,” he says. “Not anymore, my vampire.” His smile
fades, and mine does too. Only desire is left behind in
Ashen’s eyes, vibrant in the gold flecks that glow as though
panned from the silt of a riverbed.
Ashen takes my hand and leads us to a stone-fronted
structure at the end of the path, pushing through an aging
door that creaks on rusted hinges. It’s a greenhouse,
maybe once an orangery, though the fruit trees have long
since disappeared, replaced with lush, wild ferns that line
the edges of the room with their feathery tendrils. There’s
a patchwork above us of old glass and wood panels where
Ashen must have repaired broken panes. A massive four
poster bed with a carved mahogany headboard lies angled
in the center of the space beneath three undamaged
skylights, fog rolling across them in slow, curling eddies.
“Sex sheets!” I squeal, jumping on the balls of my feet
with a happy clap. I let out a delighted squeak and bound
away from Ashen to flop down on the slick covering of the
mattress. “My pretties, I missed you so much.” My hands
coast across the surface of the bed like a face-down snow
angel. Ashen’s scent is faint in the fibres, mixed with the
smell of salt on the wind, of green shoots pushing through
moist soil. Tobacco and mint. It’s the best thing I’ve ever
smelled. I smile against the silken strands.
I flip over with a deep, satisfied sigh, trailing my hand
across the midnight blue silk. I watch as Ashen pulls off his
black armor and shirt. He climbs up next to me and I yank
him down so his weight settles onto my body, infusing my
chest and belly with warmth.
“Do you like this place, vampire?” Ashen asks.
I drag my hands up the bunched muscles of his back. “I
love this place, Reaper.”
Ashen leans back and searches my face. There’s
something vulnerable about the way the gold flecks in his
cognac eyes catch the dim light. “What if it was ours? If we
rebuilt it?”
It takes me a moment to answer. It’s been so long since I
had a home. Even Anthemoessa didn’t belong to just me. I
was the last of the sirens to wash up on the shore. At one
point, it was home to all my sisters too, until we gradually
dispersed like seeds on the wind. And I was abandoned
there, don’t forget. I’m only Leucosia of Anthemoessa
because my memory of my homeland was wiped clean from
my mind. It’s the place my life started anew. The thought of
the Shadow Realm offering me a refuge, a home of my own,
is difficult to fathom.
Except it’s not the realm that really matters. It’s what I
want. Who I want to be with. Who I want to be.
I trace my finger down the straight line of Ashen’s nose,
over his mouth, down his chin, along the angle of his jaw.
“Only if this room is the first one we fix.”
Ashen’s eyes fuse to my lips. His smile grows, a bloom
unfurling in the morning light.
“All right.”
“And we don’t get rid of the plants.”
“Okay, vampire.”
 “We add more plants.”
“If you wish.”
“And a dog bed for Urtur.”
“But he snores—”
“And a dog bed for Urtur.”
“All right, vampire.”
“And we fix every skylight,” I say, reaching up toward
the ceiling.
“Any other requests?” Ashen asks, no hint of irritation in
his voice, only indulgence. I grasp his face between my
palms. My gaze shifts between his beautiful, warm eyes.
The executioner who could have destroyed me. The
hunter who could have slain me.
The demon who loves me.
“Only one, Reaper. Show me just how great these sex
sheets can really be.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 4

A shen cannot deny me anything.

Especially when I make a demand like that.
“Vampire,” Ashen purrs as I slide my fangs down his
neck, just deep enough for tiny beads of blood to rise and
meet my tongue. I press my fingertips into his back, trying
to release the knots of tension coiled beneath his skin.
“Yes, Reaper?”
“The thought of this sanctuary being ours, of having you
in this bed, day after day, it’s enough to drive me mad.”
“Mad in a good way?” I ask, my voice husky and rough
as Ashen loosens the tie at my waist. He slowly folds back
one edge of the silk robe as though peeling the paper from
a carefully wrapped present. He presses a lingering kiss to
my mated mark.
“Hmm,” he hums, the vibration of his lips against my
breast tightening my exposed nipple. He runs his tongue
across the pink nub before taking it between his teeth. He
watches me intently as he scrapes his incisors over the
delicate skin before letting go, deep red flame rippling in
his eyes. “In a way that makes me want to devour you, body
and soul.”
Ashen takes more of my breast in his mouth, sucking on
the tender flesh, using his other palm on my stomach to
keep me pinned to the bed. My fingers run through his
short, dark hair, tracing the lines of his tattoos that flow
down his neck to cover his shoulders and back and chest.
When he lets go, his lips carve a hot path across my
sternum then down, leaving a tingling trail from my chest
to my belly button. He slides his hand beneath my back to
lift me enough to slide the robe off, pulling the tie free
before tossing the rest onto the floor. Ashen takes my wrist
and meets my eyes.
“Tell me to stop and I will stop. Tell me to slow and I
will. Always.”
A slow smile creeps across my face. I push up to my
knees, Ashen leaning back to make room so I can kneel on
the bed. I press my wrists together and offer them toward
the silk tie, drawing my lips between my teeth and
widening my eyes in an expression that says please, do
continue.
A look of absolute hunger burns beneath Ashen’s smile.
He wraps the silk across my wrists and loops it through the
center, his movement swift and precise. When he’s finished,
there’s a flat knot in the gap between my joined wrists and
a tail of silk bunched within Ashen’s fist. “Say the word and
I will stop,” he reminds me once more. “Otherwise, I am
going to consume you until the sound of you screaming my
name shakes the very foundations of this house.”
I give him a sweet, coy little grin before I lean forward
to claim his mouth with a searing kiss, and he kisses me
back with a fire that matches my own, his tongue diving
into my mouth, his free hand gripping my hair. When I
break away to press kisses to his jaw his breath stutters.
The pace of his heart quickens. His scent comes alive with
faint undertones of vanilla and amber. The scents of desire.
I let a gentle breath fan across his neck as I draw close
to his ear. “I like your promises in bed, Reaper,” I whisper,
giving a soft nip to his earlobe, careful not to touch him
with my needle-sharp fangs. “There’s just one little
problem.”
 “Oh really? And what would that be?”
My fangs strike his neck so fast he doesn’t have time to
even tense before the blood is rushing into my mouth,
filling me with effervescent heat. I take one long pull and
Ashen groans with pain and pleasure, his fist tightening in
my hair. When I let go, I lean back to give him a dark, gory
smile.
“You hadn’t paid in blood.”
Ashen growls, the flame in his eyes turning black, lit
with bright sparks. He lets go of my hair but hauls me up
the bed by my bound wrists.
“You play a dangerous game antagonizing a demon,
vampire. Especially one nearly blind with lust,” Ashen grits
out as he ties the free stretch of the silken line to one of the
wooden posts. His hunger ripples beneath my skin, flowing
from his mark to mine as though we’re tethered by invisible
threads. It’s a need for punishment as much as pleasure.
He knows I like to take a little pain as much as he does, and
he wants to give whatever I’m willing to take, even if it’s
not pretty or tender. He loves me, I know that. He would
stop if I told him to, I know that too. But I would be
deluding myself to think there’s no demon in the soul of
this man. He covets the light because he’s made of shadow.
The darkness is in every part of him. Especially in desire.
And we vampires do love to mix a little danger with
desire.
“Stay still,” he orders, narrowing his eyes at me until I
give him an innocent smile. “And put those fangs away.”
Ashen slides off the mattress and I watch as he lowers
his zipper, removing the last of his clothes until he’s
standing naked before me, all delicious muscle and dark
tattoos and burning fury. He walks to the edge of the bed
and grips the base of his erection, a bead of precum
glistening on the tip of his cock. His fingers curl around my
jaw and he presses his thumb into my mouth, prying it open
to check my teeth.
 “Good,” Ashen says. His voice is rough, like stones
rumbling against one another in turbulent waves. His
thumb trails over my lips, his gaze bursting with flame as
he follows the movement. Saliva and venom flood the
surface of my tongue. “Such a pretty mouth. It will look
even prettier wrapped around my cock.”
I give Ashen a wicked, defiant look as I clamp my lips
between my teeth. He adores this game, when I straddle
the line between insolence and submission. I can see it in
his clenched jaw and the muscle that jumps in his cheek. I
can feel it in my mark. His pupils roil with a dark flame that
consumes all but the thinnest strip of color in his eyes. He
presses my cheeks between strong fingers.
“Open up, vampire.” He runs the crown of his cock over
my lips. “Tell me you want it.”
I do want it. I want it bad. I want it filling my mouth. I
want to taste him on my tongue, to feel him shudder
against my lips. To know I’m the one who breaks him
apart.
But I’m not telling him shit just yet.
I smile within his grasp.
“Tell me,” he commands.
Red light consumes my pupils as my grin turns wicked.
“You didn’t say please.”
Ashen is nearly vibrating with fury and hunger. I might
be tied up and at his mercy, but we both know who holds
the power here, because he won’t do it. Not unless I say the
word.
“Tell me.”
“Or what?”
A slow, wicked smile claims Ashen’s lips. I’m still that
puzzle he’s trying to work out. That maze he needs to keep
his head in, or he’ll get lost. And he’s just figured out a
turn. I can see it in his eyes.
He leans in close. His breath floods my skin. “Not ‘or’.
More like ‘and’. Tell me and I will bring you to ecstasy like
you have never known. Tell me and I will make you come
until you’re too weak to do anything but beg for more.”
I stare at Ashen’s lips, wishing he would press their fire
to my cool skin. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want him,
and there are moments like this one where it feels like he
can never be close enough, even when he’s already
touching me. “Well, when you put it that way, Reaper. I
want it.”
“Tug twice on your restraints if you need me to slow.
Three times if you want to stop.” I nod and Ashen leans
back, surveying my face with a look of immense
satisfaction. “Good. Now suck like your immortal life
depends on it.”
I slide my tongue out and he glides the tip of his
erection across it, the salty precum swirling with my sweet
venom in a heady taste that makes me flush with longing. I
feel my arousal slicken between my legs as I open wide to
take Ashen’s length. He slips in slowly, still holding onto
the base, his gaze transfixed on the way my lips envelop his
girth and my cheeks hollow as I suck him in.
He takes it slow at first, sliding back out to push in
again, not too far, keeping his pace languid even when he
shudders as I trace the underside of the crown with my
tongue. Ashen’s tattooed knuckles graze my cheek before
his hand flows into my hair, folding across the back of my
head.
“That’s right, my vampire,” he says, guiding the pace as
he thrusts deeper and deeper until he hits the back of my
throat. My eyes water and I press my thighs together as the
ache to have him fill me coils low in my belly. I moan with
the rich, salty taste of him on my tongue, the scent of
unsmoked tobacco and skin-warmed ink filling my nostrils.
“You may be a queen, but you have the attitude of a
demon and the mouth of a goddess,” Ashen whispers. He
fucks my mouth, faster, harder, his grip on my hair tighter,
pulling the strands with just the right amount of pain. He
shudders and I relish the roll of tension from him as he
fights himself, trying to hold on to his pleasure. His strokes
slow, and he grasps my jaw with a gentle grip, his attention
riveted to the slide of his cock in my mouth. “I haven’t
given it all to you,” he says, his fingers still tight around the
base of his erection. “Can you take it, I wonder?”
A needy moan vibrates through my lips and Ashen hisses
with approval. I don’t know, I want to tell him. But I’m
damn well gonna try.
“Remember the code if you want me to slow or stop,” he
says, caressing my jaw as the crown of his cock slips out
past my lips and back in again. His fingers then travel to
lace into my hair once more, the hand that was gripping his
erection trailing down my neck, laying high on my throat
where he can feel me swallow. “Because I am going to give
that sweet and wicked mouth of yours everything I’ve got.”
Another whimper of desire rolls from me as Ashen slides
his full length across my tongue and into my throat. I
swallow, his palm capturing the motion. His head tilts back
in ecstasy and he pulls back to do it again, his muscles
twitching and trembling.
Ashen thrusts again, and again. His hand grips my hair
tighter. The tremor in his muscles spreads. With a growled
curse he thrusts a final time and loses himself to desire.
Venom mixes with saliva and smears down my chin and I
moan around Ashen’s length as it pulses, his cum shooting
down my throat. I swallow it all and it tingles within me,
igniting that bond that grows stronger between us with
every drop of blood and arousal that we share.
When Ashen pulls out of my mouth, he studies my face
for a long moment, taking in what must be a bit of a mess
with tear-streaked skin and a slick, wet chin and swollen
lips. But he looks at me as though he’s never seen anything
more beautiful. He runs his thumb beneath my lower lip
and clears the cooling saliva away, his eyes darkening with
every stroke of his skin across mine.
 Ashen gets up onto the mattress and grips my hips,
shifting me down closer to the center of the bed. My arms
straighten just enough to make my shoulders heat with
discomfort. But thoughts of pain quickly evaporate. Ashen
pins one of my thighs down with his knee as he grasps the
other, opening me wide for his ravenous gaze to caress
every inch of my most sensitive flesh.
“I like the thought of you up on that dais with the
remnants of us fucking still there on your legs, vampire,”
Ashen says as he runs his free palm up the inside of my
thigh, his motion slowing when he feels our dried cum on
my skin.
“It was one of the few things I could think about, quite
honestly. That and the fact I was naked under a thin bit of
silk held together by little more than string,” I reply as I
give a little tug on the tie that binds me to the post. Ashen’s
eyes flick to the movement of my wrists as a low groan
rumbles in his chest.
“And now you are the Queen of the Shadow Realm. For
the rest of eternity, I will only ever bow to you. Tell me I’m
the only one who makes your pussy wet with desire,” he
says as he slowly runs a finger across my slit then holds it
up to show me how it glistens with my arousal. “Tell me
that it will only ever be me.”
“You already know it will only ever be you,” I say as I
give a pointed glance down to the mark on his chest, the
twin lion heads of the Mace of Nergal shimmering in gold
over the edge of the geometric jackal’s face.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Why?”
The flame dims in Ashen’s eyes until it’s nothing more
than banked embers in the shadows of carbon. His hand
rests on my thigh, tender and warm. When he looks at me, I
can see right into his soul, into the man who coexists with
the darkness of a demon. “Because I got the one thing I
wanted, even though I knew I didn’t deserve it. I got what I
never thought I would have. You. You chose me. And I’ll
never grow tired of hearing you say it.”
We fall silent as we look at one another in a moment that
seems to soften the air between us. “It will only be you,
Ashen. For all time.”
Each word that falls from my mouth enlivens the sparks
in the Reaper’s eyes.
“Tell me it’s only my demands that you will obey.”
“Only yours. And only when I feel like it.”
His hand grows hotter on my leg. One side of Ashen’s
lips kicks up into a wicked grin. “That’s my Lu.” Ashen
leans down and runs his tongue along the inside of my
thigh through the stain on my skin, slowing as he gets
closer to my center. “Now don’t forget to scream for me,
vampire. I have a promise to keep.”
Ashen inhales deeply as his tongue drags across my
opening. He licks upward through my folds until he stops at
my clit, kissing the swollen bundle of nerves. He swirls and
teases with feathery strokes. Even when I tilt my head back
and close my eyes, I still feel his gaze, heavy and hot on my
face. Little by little, he increases the pressure of his tongue
and the heat of his kisses, still keeping his circles and
serpentines gentle like a slow caress, letting out a sigh of
contentment against my flesh. He presses down on my
stomach when I start to squirm with the swells of pleasure
that carry me closer to the edge of the world.
“Ashen…” I moan and pull against my bonds when he
pushes one finger into my opening and then another.
Ashen’s free hand flows up my body until he reaches my
chest. He traces the shape of the crescent moon on my
mated mark, the reverence of his touch igniting sparks
beneath my skin. “God, Ashen…”
Ashen continues the strokes of his fingers, adding a
third and curling them inward as he looks across my body.
“I can’t hear you, vampire…” He holds onto my eyes and
withdraws his fingers and I whimper with the loss of his
touch. He presses his palm onto my mark as he drags his
glistening fingers through the blood that slips down his
neck from my bite.
“What are you up to, demon?” I whisper, my heart
drowning nearly every sound with heavy beats. Knots twist
and coil low in my belly, an ache that begs to be soothed.
“Just a hunch.” Ashen flashes a sinful smile before
lowering his mouth to my sex once more. His eyes stay
fused to mine as his slow, languid kisses heat my sensitive
flesh. And then he pushes his bloodied fingers back in.
The effect is shattering.
Every stroke of Ashen’s touch is an eruption of tingling
warmth. It stokes my aching pleasure to the point of a
desperate, painful need for release. It sparks and heats and
climbs through my body, knotting my muscles, stealing my
breath. It wrenches tears from the corners of my eyes. An
anguished cry escapes my throat as I pull against the ties
that bind me.
“Do you want me to stop, vampire?” Ashen asks. His
voice sounds far away through the heartbeats pulsing deep
behind my ears.
“Fuck no. Do not stop…” I open my eyes just long
enough to see his wicked smile before his mouth descends
on my flesh once more. Those slow, hot kisses, those fingers
that paint me with his magic, it’s only a moment before
every cell in my body seems to disintegrate. Time
deconstructs into fragments as small and elusive as
stardust. I fall into pleasure. It’s brighter and hotter than
anything I’ve ever known. It burns me up from the inside. It
sears my heart and my lungs and rains colored sparks
before my eyes.
I don’t know how long it is before Ashen has my jaw in a
gentle grip. I open my eyes and he’s hovering above me, his
prideful look scarred by a seam of concern.
“All right, vampire?”
 His voice is muffled by my heart thrumming painfully in
my head. I nod, though he doesn’t look convinced.
“You sure?”
“More,” I whisper. I’m already insatiable for this new
sensation, as though Ashen’s awoken a dormant beast that
never knew it was starved. My lungs and heart protest, but
they can shut the fuck up.
“What my Queen wants, she will have,” Ashen says as he
smiles. I look on with predatory interest as his hand rises to
his neck to smear through the sticky, drying blood. He
watches the longing erupt on my face as he grips his cock
with his bloody hand before sliding into me. The tingling
burst of pleasure brightens once more as my body
welcomes him in. The blood heightens my awareness of
even the smallest motion, and with little more than a few
strokes of his cock I’m writhing as though possessed.
“You should be glad I’m tied up, Reaper,” I manage, my
voice breathless and strained.
“Really? Why is that? Aside from the obvious benefits, of
course.”
“Because I’d be biting my finger and shoving it up your
ass faster than you could say butthole.”
Ashen warms what little space remains between us with
a vibrant laugh. I would die a hundred times to hear it, to
feel it tinge the edges of my mated mark with the essence
of joy. “You say that as though you think I would complain. I
wouldn’t.”
“Duly noted,” I grit out as he thrusts into me. But I don’t
have time to do anything more than shelve that idea for the
future, because my mind is ebbing away in this river of
desire. It flows from me and leaves only sensation behind.
Ashen’s hands on my skin, that’s the last thing I truly think
about. They leave an impression that sinks into my flesh
and grips my heart. I think I could live five thousand more
years and his touch would still set me aflame.
 With thoughts of fire and time, I descend into a lake of
longing so consuming that I drown in it. Ashen says sweet
and dark and devious things in my ear but I don’t make out
a single one. I only feel his breath and the kisses and nips
he pours on my neck. My face is flooded with his scent as it
mixes with my own. A vibration shakes my veins with every
slide and thrust of his cock. At some point, I don’t even
know when, he releases me from the bedpost and loops my
bound wrists over his head. I’m straddling him as he kneels
on the bed, riding him toward our release.
“Kneeling for your Queen.” My words come from some
ether as I grind on Ashen’s sex, rubbing my clit at the
perfect angle that has my walls clenching around his cock.
“You have always brought me to my knees, my vampire.
And you always will. You have me forever.” Ashen looks into
my eyes with crimson flame that moves as fluid as water in
the confines of his pupils. My heart shatters like an
exploding star, unable to contain everything I feel as he
kisses me. My orgasm tears my nerves apart, shredding
them into filaments of light. I whimper a desperate moan of
ecstasy against Ashen’s lips as he shudders and pulses and
spills within me.
It takes a long moment of sitting wrapped in one
another for us to recover enough breath to move. Ashen
pulls my wrists over his head and settles my arms between
our chests, our skin glistening with sweat in the dim light
as he unties the knot and casts the silken strand to the
floor. He kisses my wrists, his eyes fused to mine, then
shifts me from his lap as he slips off the bed to retrieve a
towel and ceramic pitcher of water and some clothes from
a scarred sideboard at the edge of the room. He cleans my
face first and then between my legs, taking his time with
gentle, reverential strokes of the soft towel. When he’s
done, he turns me over to lie on my front.
“There’s barely anything left, Lu,” he says as he runs a
finger down the puckered skin on my shoulder where the
ax slid into flesh and bone.
“Mmmhmm,” is the most I can manage for a groggy
response as a fresh, damp towel cleans the dried blood
from my skin.
A gentle kiss warms the remnants of the wound. “My
remarkable vampire,” he whispers.
It’s the last thing I hear before I fall asleep.
And it seems like just a blink before I wake to a salvo of
chaos.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 5

C lanking metal. Shouting. Rippling fire. Urtur’s sharp

whine. And Ashen’s voice, insistent and panicked. The
feeling of a shirt slipping over my skin. I see a flash of him
standing at the edge of the Bay of Souls, looking toward the
islands in the distance. I see the eyes of the crawler from
that night at Bit Akalum, right before Ashen cleaved it in
two.
“Lu, wake up. Lu…” Ashen smacks my cheek and I
startle, blinking into reality. He’s afraid. I feel it pulling at
the skin around my mark, seeping between my bones.
There’s a hint of relief in his face as my eyes find focus on
his. “Thank the realms. I’ve been trying to wake you for the
last five minutes.”
“What’s happening?” I ask as I look around. My
thoughts feel murky as I try to unravel my unfamiliar
surroundings and the sounds of fighting that echo across
the stone cliffs surrounding us. The noise is coming from
just outside the building. I glance to the entrance of the
orangery where Urtur paces on the other side of the open
door.
Ashen hooks his hands beneath my arms and drags my
body from the bed, setting me on my unsteady feet. He
starts working on the buttons of a black shirt that he’s
wrangled me into. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it can’t
be good.”
“Reapers loyal to the Council?”
“Maybe. But something feels off. More off than that.”
The brain fog lifts with every breath I take, and I start
growing antsy on my bare soles. A nervous, metronomic
bounce starts in my knees and climbs my body. “I thought
my first day as Queen would involve more confetti and
booze. This kind of sucks.”
Ashen tries to smile but it’s so fleeting it might as well
have been imagined. “I will make it up to you,” he says as
he closes a button over the mark on my chest, letting his
fingers graze the lapis and gold. He leaves the last few
buttons open and I look down at the shirt that engulfs me,
hitting my mid-thigh.
“Not really royal attire, but at least there’s no jizz this
time. I guess that’s an improvement.”
Ashen steps back and retrieves his sword from the floor,
eyeing me with a worried look as the nearby shouting
grows louder. I sense the fragmented thoughts of crawlers
approaching in the distance, but they’re far away in the
mist. The faint trace of blood wafts into the room, rolling in
on the fog. I swallow a swell of fear and venom. Every
horrible memory of the Shadow Realm seems burnt into my
bones.
The flame ripples to life across Ashen’s blade. “You will
not like what I’m about to say.”
“Color me shocked, Reaper.”
“You must run.”
“Hard pass. Next.”
Ashen’s jaw clenches in an effort to keep back an
exasperated sigh. It comes out as a slow and measured
breath. “Lu, I don’t have any other weapons. I have nothing
to give you to defend yourself.”
“I don’t need a weapon. I am one,” I argue. My
expression hardens into a resolute glare, but it softens at
the edges when Ashen comes closer and tilts my chin up
with a gentle hand. The sounds of chaos grow closer. His
look of desperation grows brighter.
“Your power is new to you, Lu. We don’t even fully
understand what you are capable of or how it works. I
know you need to touch someone to throw their mind into
darkness or capture their thoughts, but you have no sword
with which to defend yourself. One clean strike from an
enemy and you could lose your hands, or worse.” Ashen
leans in close, his eyes never leaving mine. Smoke fills the
space behind him as his wings unfurl in a blaze of sparks.
Ashen pulls the necklace that once laid around Eshkar’s
neck from his pocket and presses the gold square into my
hand. “This fits in a pedestal in the Throne Room. If you
can get to the Kur, you can open the corridors and let the
hybrids in. You can summon them right to you.”
“Ashen—”
“Please, Lu.” The flame in Ashen’s eyes turns black. His
distress flows into me. It’s so powerful and urgent that it
envelops me like a thick blanket. “I am not strong enough
to watch them kill you. But you are strong enough and
brave enough to run. I will beg on my knees if I have to, if
that’s what it will take.”
As I look at him, that flash from his distant past dances
in my mind. The way he pleaded with Davina for her to run.
His anger when she refused. The sickening grief when he
felt her slip away with the secret she carried in her womb.
And I know in that instant I can’t refuse his request.
I nod, swallowing back the gathering tears.
Ashen leans down and steals one swift, searing kiss
before he pushes himself away. Just as his hand slips from
my skin, there’s a crash downstairs. I hear the sound of
boots running on the dirt path, the clank of weapons. The
swell of desperation from Ashen mixes with my own fear
and nearly knocks me down. “Back door, Lu. Run. I will find
you.”
 “I know. And bring me clothes, for fucksakes. I’m tired
of wearing castoff hot pants and torn robes and shirts that
are fifty times my size when you look all…reapery perfect,”
I say with grin and a dramatic flourish of my hand in his
direction. But my smile fades as quickly as his does in reply.
“I love you, Ashen.”
“I love you too, my Lu. Go.”
With one last look between us, we turn away from one
another, running in opposite directions.
I pass quickly along a narrow, winding stone path that
leads through the ferns to the other end of the orangery. I
toss the chain of the necklace over my head before I push
the door open just enough to listen for anyone who could
have made it to the other side, but the night air is silent.
My bare feet make hardly a sound as I dart down a path
leading out of the garden and toward a crumbling retaining
wall.
The sounds of fighting are climbing up the building,
growing closer to the room I just left. I hear shouting but
can’t make out Ashen’s voice, though I strain to listen for
his familiar, deep timbre as I start climbing the wall where
vines eke out a shadowed existence among the stone.
I’m nearly to the top of the wall when I hear Urtur’s
haunting howl. It fills every crevice around me. It rattles
my pulse. I pause, turning my head toward the sound.
There’s a moment of silence. I hold my breath and listen,
clutching the wall as I try to still my heart. There’s a sound
of metal scraping against metal. There’s a shout. And then
a whine, a crash. Breaking glass. A fist squeezes around my
chest as I smell blood on the wind.
“Shit,” I whisper. The sound of my voice is punctuated
by a whistle and a thwack against the stone, right next to
my hand.
A silver arrow.
Shit fuck shit.
 I scramble up the wall as another two arrows land close
by, lodging into the wall. And then I’m over, landing in the
darkness and the fog, hemmed in by the wall behind me
and the jagged stone on either side. There’s only one
narrow path ahead.
I run.
I duck and weave around the rock that juts out at sharp
angles. I startle a small creature and it scuttles up the cliff.
Thorny branches reach toward the path and catch my legs,
scratching blood out of my skin. The scent of the sea and
decay grows stronger with every step.
I feel the presence of crawlers drawing closer to the
house and I ask them for only one thing. I don’t even know
if they can hear me like I can them, but I ask anyway. Over
and over.
Save Ashen.
I hear two sets of footsteps down the path behind me. A
weapon scrapes against the stone. An arrow whistles
through the fog and I duck, not breaking stride. It clatters
against the cliff as I run past.
The footsteps grow louder. Whoever chases me is much
faster than I am. I don’t look back to see who they are. I
press on as quickly as my bloodied feet can take me,
gripping my arrow, pumping my arms.
The sea crashes against the rocks ahead. The fog thins.
The path opens up as the cliffs pull back to display the
Black Sea below, the oily waves disappearing into a veil of
fog before the horizon, a never-ending night.
“Take her down!”
Another arrow flies past me, disappearing over the cliff,
then another. One hits my leg and lodges in the back of my
thigh, but I don’t stop. I burst onto the landing. I run
straight off the edge of the cliff.
One last arrow slices through the side of my neck on its
way to the sea, tearing with it a strand of tangled hair that
flutters like a banner in its wake.
 And then I’m falling.
I see a flash of my sister Aglaope. I still feel her hands
on my chest as she thrust me into another sea.
But now I’m falling, flying, facing the distance, not my
dying sister whose body plummeted after me from the cliffs
of Anthemoessa. No, this time I’m watching the black water
that rises up to meet me as though it can’t wait to show me
the horrors that live beneath the surface.
The instant my toes touch the sea, I feel it.
Hell.
The impact of hitting the surface tears the arrow from
my leg. But that pain is nothing. Nothing when the cold and
oily water envelops me in its punishing grip.
Hell is not fire.
Hell is an endless sea of anguish. It’s a countless mass
of minds whose thoughts bleed into one another. No
privacy. No space. Nothing but constant pushing, touching,
jamming up against one another, into one another, in a
churning sea of grief. It’s the desperate need to find space
or safety or silence, without even knowing which way is up.
Hell is a claustrophobic sludge. It’s the scent and taste of
decay that fills my mouth, flooding my nostrils.
I vomit into the putrid water, a mix of salt and death. I
keep my eyes pressed shut as I kick and flail, trying to
reach the surface.
It’s too thick.
The water clings to me. It pushes me down. My lungs
burn. It’s taking too long to get to the surface. I can’t seem
to move anywhere. My head fills with the sorrow and rage
and panic that I sense all around me.
I’m already drowning, from the inside out.
There’s something else…something beneath me. A
presence from the deep. And I am a lure in the ocean, tiny
and bright. Appetizing.
The fetid, foul souls seem to push away, leaving me
surrounded by liquid that feels lighter. I open my eyes and
I’m in a bubble of dirty water, utter blackness surrounding
me beyond my little pool.
Except for beneath my feet.
A growing light emerges from the depths. A monster
from the deep, and a channel of clearer water is opening
beneath me as the souls desperately try to get out of the
way.
I kick harder. The salt burns the holes in my leg and my
neck. I take long strokes with my arms, still clinging to the
silver arrow as I aim for a surface I can’t see. The blue light
beneath me glows brighter, the creature racing from the
depths, eager to claim a rare prize.
My lungs have nothing left. Burning. Desperate burning.
I can’t hold it. There’s nowhere to go.
The light brightens beneath me. The creature. I look up.
I reach. I kick. I wave the silver arrow, but it only stirs the
oil of decaying human souls.
Just like diving into deep water, Ashen’s voice says from
memory. You hold your breath. There’s a pressure in your
head. Then you open your eyes and you are in another
world.
Something slams into my back with a force that empties
my lungs of air.
At first, there’s no pain. And then burning, raging fire. I
try to strike at the source with the silver arrow, but it’s
knocked from my hand. I watch it spin and sink into the
black depths.
Crimson stains billow in the water around me.
Something is stuck into my back like claws, as though a
giant eagle is fishing me out of the sea, carrying me off in
its talons.
Except I’m not going to the surface.
I’m going down.
And then a voice. The monster of the deep. Its thoughts
are the last that I hear in my mind.
 Leucosia of Anthemoessa, it says. It is time to meet your
fate.

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CHAPTER 6

OceanofPDF.com
 ASHEN

“D o you feel her?” I ask as I look down at the witch.

Her ebony gaze scans the sea. She is still and silent
for a long moment.
“No.”
“She was here. I know it. She leapt into the water.”
The witch takes a step closer to the cliff edge. She looks
down at the glistening black waves. “If you’re right, you
know what she was up against. You swam in it too. What’s
it like?”
I don’t want to tell her. I don’t think I even have words
adequate enough to describe the horror of those waters. It
is anguish and sorrow in depth unfathomable. It is hell.
“Worse than you can imagine.”
“You felt her in it?”
“Yes. She was in distress.”
“And then what?”
“Panic. Terror. And then nothing. I have not felt her
since.”
Not even once. Not for a moment. Not a whisper of Lu in
the mark that binds us. It’s as though she disappeared from
the Shadow Realm altogether. And I felt nothing from her
when I went to the Living Realm to retrieve the witch who
now stands beside me.
Nothing.
 “She cannot be dead, or I would be dead too,” I say,
trying to convince myself as much as the witch. “Perhaps if
I die, she will be sent back with me to the Resurrection
Chamber.”
“Can you be sure? If she’s trapped somewhere that you
can’t feel her, you could damn her there. What if she suffers
there? Lingers there? Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”
No. It’s not.
I make no reply. I just let out a long breath and scan the
sea that keeps its secrets, refusing to give up a trace of my
wife, no matter how much I stare or curse or beg it for even
a scrap of solace.
My wife. My Lu. The one most precious star in all my
darkness, winked out as though she was never more than
an illusion.
“Her necklace. It connects you, does it not?” I ask,
trying to keep the desperation from my voice.
“Yes. She can summon me with it, if we’re in the same
realm,” Ediye says, though her voice is too low and quiet
for hope to live there.
“Can you find it without being called?”
“If I could sense her presence even a little, then yes,
with the right materials. But I’m getting nothing.”
The witch’s answer sparks the frustration and rage that
swirls within me. Smoke and embers drop to my feet and
coat the stone. The witch turns toward me and I force
myself to remember that she loves Lu with a depth that
matches my own. Exceeds it. And she might be my only
hope.
“Do you have any texts related to my kind?” she asks,
her eyes darting to the vaporous wings unfurling behind
me. “Spells? Maybe there’s an ancient incantation I can
find that could help locate the pendant.”
“Yes,” I say, but my mind is already pulled into the past.
The memory of walking Lu to the library the first time she
came to the Shadow Realm strikes my heart with the
impact of a sword. The tears she tried to hide. Her notes.
You are a monster, she’d written. One of so many jokes.
She never said as much, but I knew it was her game, trying
to make me laugh, no matter how hard I tried not to. And I
put up a good fight, only to see what more she would
bring.
“…Reaper?”
I blink at the witch, both relieved and annoyed to be
wrenched from memory. “Cyrus. He will take you to the
library. He will show you where to look.”
“And you? What are you going to do?”
I look at the witch for just a moment, unable to lay my
gaze on the pain and loss in her face for any longer than a
heartbeat. My only answer is to turn away, to start back
down the path toward the decaying house that was meant
to be ours.
Lu was right, though she would never believe it.
I am a monster. And I will rip the realms apart until I
find her.

OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 7

OceanofPDF.com
 ASHEN

I t’s been five days.

Five days with no sign, no feeling, no whispering
sense of my Lu.
I stand in front of the mirror and look at the mated mark
on my chest. I worry about the lines. Are they becoming
blurry? Is the gold becoming dull? The black becoming
grey? Sometimes an hour passes just looking at the lion
mace, wondering why this world tears everything good
from my grasp.
And wondering how I will punish it back.
My gaze roams from the mark to my eyes. Dark
crescents inhabit the flesh beneath them. Red rings circle
my irises. It’s the sleeplessness, the stress of the panic that
never abates. And it’s the bitter helplessness. I don’t even
know where to look. Where to start. In the sea? How do I
search an endless ocean of decaying souls for the one light
to ever grace its depths? It would consume her. It would
hide her and never give her back.
But it doesn’t stop me from trying.
Every day I search from the cliffs. Every night I wade
into the anguish of hell, swimming parallel to the shore,
searching for anything that might tell me where she is.
Nothing. Nothing comes.
 “Are you ready?” a voice calls from the living room. I
grind my molars, trying to quell the irritation of having to
do anything that takes my focus from my omnipresent
distress or my drive to find her.
My only reply is to leave the bathroom. I enter the living
room as I button my shirt, my fingers touching the mark as
I close the fabric over my heart. Cole and Ediye stand
waiting in the opulent room of the quarters we’ve
commandeered from one of the slain Council members.
I take my sword and my bag and glance to where Lu’s
katana lies resting on a table in the corner of the room.
There are reminders of her everywhere, even in places
she’s never been. They cause the dread and darkness to
churn within me, but I cannot stop myself from seeking
them out.
“Let’s go, Reaper,” the witch says, pulling my eyes from
Lu’s weapon. Ediye’s voice is like gravel from lack of sleep.
She doesn’t show it as much, but she is just as weary and
heartsick as I am. She squeezes Cole’s hand, and he
presses a kiss to her bare shoulder before she pulls on her
jacket. I turn away from watching the simple comfort of a
touch. Even my skin aches for Lu, as though it’s starved by
her absence.
The witch and I leave the Shadow Realm to the care of
Cole and Cyrus and the soldiers who keep the rest of the
demons under fierce supervision. In these last few days, I
have taken great pains to weed out the disloyal among
them. The deaths I have dealt have been brutal and
unforgiving. Rumor spread quickly that none would be
spared. And so, the realm has been quiet. For now. Even
still, I refuse to leave for more than a few hours at most.
The fear that Lu will appear while I’m away or that I could
miss feeling anything that will tell me where to look is too
much weight to bear.
But this has to be done.
 We arrive at a corridor near the town of Bran and then
portal through Ediye’s power to the coven across the
mountain from Valentina’s estate. It’s much like Valentina’s
home, a fortified, small castle where several family groups
of witches carve out a comfortable, remote existence. They
stay hidden in the snow-capped stone structures, not
coming out to greet the Reaper in their midst.
The others are waiting outside for our arrival.
Eryx radiates light when he sees Ediye, folding her into
a long embrace, his wings shielding their kiss from my
view. Valentina watches me with concern, as though she
doesn’t trust my hold over my sanity. Probably wise. Davina
drifts into view and I cut my gaze away from her as cinders
burn in my eyes. Eryx and Ediye separate, the witch
running her knuckles beneath her lashes to swipe away any
tears before they fall.
The small group turns their attention to me as I lay my
bag on the snow and roll up my sleeve. I loathe the pitying
looks they give me. Their empathy is wasted. I don’t want
kindness. I want answers. I want Lu.
And I would kill any one of them to get her back.
The witch Ediye is the only person who provides any real
comfort. It’s because she is equally driven to find Lu. She
spends hour after hour researching ancient spells and
testing incantations. She has forged tenuous collaborations
with several of the Reapers of House Ushzu, whose demons
specialize in witches and warlocks. But even speaking with
Reapers who have claimed the souls of her kind, Ediye is
undeterred. She presses on, day after day. And I know that
Lu loves her. It makes me see them both through another
lens. It makes me feel closer to Lu despite her absence.
The only other person I find comfort in is Cyrus, my
second in command. He brings me the lives of traitors to
take. Any who were too slow to bow to my Queen. Any who
whisper insidious plans in the shadows. I kill them all. And
I find I cannot get enough blood on my hands to satisfy the
monster within me.
But I’m hoping there’s one being who can help.
“Ana nurika nami azziz,” I say in a low voice. My wings
of smoke awaken, curling from beneath my skin in
anticipation. “Ana elleti tiparika azziz.”
Smoke shields my eyes as the light of the summoning
appears before me. It grows until it forms a sphere,
pulsating with energy, humming louder and louder until it
bursts in multi-colored sparks. Aloros, representative of the
anunnaki of House Esagila, steps forward, folding his razor
wings behind him in a show of goodwill.
“Demon,” he says. His green eyes brighten as he surveys
my face. “Battle has been unkind to you, it seems. Has it
been worth it?”
Arrogant fucker.
“No. It has not. But we succeeded in our objective
nonetheless.” I toss the bag at the angel’s feet. He turns his
gaze to it with a devious smile. The angel bends and opens
the sack, pulling on the long tendrils of Imogen’s hair until
her severed head dangles before him. He glances down into
the bag where Eshkar’s face stares up at the cloud-covered
sky with unseeing eyes.
“So you did. And now you control the Shadow Realm. I
will keep my end of the bargain and House Esagila will
resurrect Aglaope of Anthemoessa, and then we shall draft
our plans to conquer the Nephilim.”
“The Shadow Realm will uphold our vow to destroy our
common enemy,” I say, unwilling to correct his assumption
about who rules our realm. “But do not resurrect Aglaope
yet.”
The angel sharpens his eyes at me with suspicion, his
dark skin flaring with a glow that fades as quickly as a
blink. “Why not?”
“It was for Leucosia. She’s missing.”
 The angel’s brows flick. I swallow a thick knot as the
angel casts his gaze across my face, surely seeing the
evidence of my distress engraved in every curve and angle.
“We were attacked by Nephilim,” I explain.
The angel tilts his head.
“Leucosia leapt into the Black Sea during her escape,
and then she disappeared.”
“Then the vampire Leucosia has met her end.”
Those words punch me harder than any fist. My heart
shakes with their impact. I swallow my pain and anger,
willing myself to hold on to reason for just a little while
longer. Even still, my wings flare behind me with sparks
and smoke. “If she is dead, I should be too. We are blood-
mated. The bond worked as promised once before. But I
should be able to feel her. I cannot.”
The angel regards me for a long moment. Something
softens in his eyes. It’s not pity, or even empathy. Just…
acknowledgement. He gives a single nod. “Every ocean
holds mysteries, even our own. I will send search parties to
cover the City of Anur and the shores of the Silver Sea, in
case she stumbled upon a portal to our lands and is lost in
the Realm of Light.”
“The ziggurat—”
“We will search for her essence through the temple as
well. If she is in the Living Realm, the anunnaki will find
her, though it might take time if she is hidden with magic.
But we will search nonetheless.”
I bow my head, grateful to not have to ask for help from
a creature who should be my greatest enemy. “Thank you,
anunnaki.”
“What of Aglaope?”
“Keep her safe. If we find Leucosia, I will summon you
for the resurrection.”
Aloros gathers the bag of severed heads and spreads his
wings. They flash with iridescent camouflage. Lu is there,
bright in my memory. A ripple of anger cascades through
me for the damage this angel once inflicted on the soft,
radiant skin of her cheek with his feathers, their edges as
sharp as freshly made blades. Again, I subdue my rage,
eager to return to the Shadow Realm where I can find a
place to unleash it.
The angel seems to sense my struggle. His wings beat as
he readies to take off for his portal at Pestera Liliecilor. “As
you wish, demon,” he says.
“Anunnaki,” I call before he can dart into the sky. Aloros
looks at me with a question in his drawn brows. “Guard
your corridors. The Nephilim were let into the Shadow
Realm. And when I find the traitor, their suffering will
never end.”
Aloros regards me with a long, hard look, and then
ascends into the sky. I turn from the others, not wanting
their warmth or their glances or their words that are meant
to be kind but leave me feeling emptier than silence.
When Aloros is gone, Ediye gathers the herbs and
materials she needs from the coven but does not linger as I
wait outside alone. It isn’t long before we return to the
corridor at Bran and enter the Shadow Realm. My fleeting
hope that I will feel Lu’s presence dissolves as soon as we
pass through the flame. There is only Lu’s absence. The
weight of nothingness is more crushing than I could ever
have imagined.
We check in with Cole and Cyrus, and then I escort
Ediye to the library before continuing on alone to the house
among the cliffs. I descend the winding path that leads to
the shore and Urtur is already there, watching, waiting,
ready to enter the water at my side.
We start our agonizing evening ritual. We swim in
patterns across the area where Lu must have landed in the
water. Urtur paddles, whining and panting as he sniffs the
air for any scent. I duck my head beneath the waves and try
to listen. What for, I don’t know. Anything other than the
agony of the millions of human souls converging in this
putrid sea. I look for any light. But as always, there is
nothing.
When I can no longer bear the suffering and the sound
of Urtur’s cries, we leave the water, the jackal following me
up to the house. We take the path through the drawing
room, ascending the stone steps.
Is that why you like me? You like broken things?
Lu’s voice is as clear in my mind as though she were
right next to me. Her face is so vibrant. I even see the way
she purses her lips when she makes a joke to test the
waters of her fears. I stop on the stairs and close my eyes,
pressing my fingers to my mark as I wait for the pain of this
memory to subside.
I take a deep breath and keep going up the steps, taking
no notice of the sculptures along the path. They might as
well not exist. I only stop once I reach the shattered glass
of Lu’s statue. The moment Urtur and the Nephilim crashed
into her figure, locked in their bloody battle, it felt like an
omen. A portent of doom. And it was.
I lower to my knees among the scattered shards and
pick up the golden mask, turning it over in my hands.
You like broken things?
I should never have begged her to run. I should have
trusted her as she did me. My own weakness is responsible.
I thought the worst thing imaginable would be to watch her
come to harm. But I was wrong. This. This is the worst
thing. A life as though she’s been erased, while still being
surrounded by the echo of her presence. I can feel the way
she started to change this place. She was in the Shadow
Realm so briefly, and yet it was happening all around her.
And she never even knew. She never knew she was at the
heart of it all.
I cannot say how long it is that I spend looking into the
vacant eyes of the mask before I hear footsteps
approaching behind me. Urtur stays motionless where he
lays next to the entrance of the greenhouse, his eyes
following the motion of the person who draws near.
“Sir, it’s Zida,” Cyrus says as he draws to a halt. I turn
my head in acknowledgment. “She’s found the traitor.”
Sparks eat through my skin, a welcome burn that flares
with bright heat across my back. My wings billow from my
flesh. “Who?”
“Joash. Hakan’s brother.”
I rise. Flame consumes my eyes as I turn to face Cyrus.
“Hakan? The demon Leucosia killed on Anthemoessa?”
“Yes. It seems Joash was working with Ember. Zida
tracked him to a cabin north of Huedin. He was with
Ember’s remaining loyalists in the Living Realm.”
“Where is he now?”
“She dragged him back. He’s in the Kur, alive but still
subdued with venom. The hunting party has captured the
rest of the group and is returning them to the Shadow
Realm now.”
I turn away. I walk over to the gift I’ve spent my
sleepless hours making for Lu, in case she might ever
return. It’s finished now, lying covered beneath heavy black
velvet. It feels like a funeral shroud. I look at it for a long
moment, wondering if there will ever be an end to this
grief. But the rage I feel, I know that will never die.
I turn to Cyrus, a new purpose filling the cavity in my
soul. I meet his eyes with a dark and mirthless smile.
“Take them to the Council Room in the Kur. Send a
contingent of soldiers to the Resurrection Chambers. I
want any who resurrect brought back to me as soon as I
send them to their deaths. I intend to punish. Indefinitely.”
Cyrus gives a single nod and strides into the growing
darkness to fulfill my commands. I look down at the mask
in my hands, shifting it to reflect the dimmest light before I
set it on the velvet and walk away.
I will bring justice. In the absence of my Queen’s
merciful light, I will be the darkness that consumes the
world, one traitorous soul at a time.

OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 8

OceanofPDF.com
 ASHEN

S even days.
Each one has been more agonizing than the last.
When I think I’ve reached the limit of suffering, the
darkness grows deeper still.
I realize now how close I must have always been to the
edge of this. Guilt and regret were faithful suits I could
wear. The threads never wore out. There were always more
to replace them if they snapped.
The sculptures I hid in the house that no one wanted.
The leniency I sometimes granted to immortals in the
Living Realm. The fact that I never found much interest in
others of my kind. Perhaps these were warning signs.
I wanted something for myself. I shed the skin of shame.
I chose to embrace the love I felt for Lu, and it opened the
doorway to loss.
The shadow of love is rage. And my fury consumes me,
body and soul.
I’m thinking of all the things I will accomplish with the
blade in my hand when a sound startles me from my wicked
reverie. I look over my shoulder and watch Ediye enter the
Council Room, her gaze surveying the blood on the floor
and the broken furniture littering the wide space.
“I noticed something interesting when I arrived at the
library this morning,” the witch says as she rights an
overturned chair, wiping her hand across the seat before
sitting next to me.
I have no interest in expending energy by talking, so I
only offer a grunt in reply. I keep my eyes down on the
blade I sharpen with methodical strokes.
“There were no ghost hosts today,” she continues,
undeterred.
Ghost hosts. That sounds like something Lu would say. I
glare down at the dagger in my hand.
“No haunted carriages either.”
I grunt again.
“Then I heard an interesting rumor. That there was a
decree issued that souls will no longer be used in service to
Reapers. I thought to myself, ‘who would have done that?’
And then I heard that any demons caught disobeying this
decree would be punished by death, to which I thought, ‘I
bet I know exactly where that decree came from.’”
I stay silent for a long moment, sliding the blade across
the stone, though the edge cannot get much sharper. “She
hates that we used them.”
I give no more detail than that. There is no reason to,
and the witch understands. She is always pushing, but only
enough to bend the line of my irritation, never break it.
We sit in silence for a long moment. I think about the
time I brought Lu to the library. We stood in the vestibule,
and she cast her hand across the page of her notebook,
asking about the werewolf soul chained to the door. She
wanted to know what his crime had been, and I gave no
thought to my answer. I said I didn’t know. I never expected
a reaction, but Lu challenged me. Fearlessly. In my own
domain. In the realm of her enemies. And she did it with
kindness. She looked at me not with anger, but empathy.
How this place must have sickened her. Terrified her.
And yet she still has mercy for the souls and demons
residing here, despite everything the Shadow Realm has
taken from her, everything it put her through. I understand
now how much she strives to connect with others, even
despite herself. The loneliness she must have felt during
her years in hiding…it must have been suffocating.
“You look like shit,” the witch says, tearing me free of
my thoughts. “Come and get something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You think you’ll find her any faster by starving
yourself?”
I glance up at the room before returning my attention
back to my blade. “I have more important things to do.”
“Right, like re-killing people you’ve already killed
several times before.”
“Exactly. That is called justice.”
“Actually, it’s called vengeance, but sure, whatever.”
“Your memory is short, witch. You seem to be forgetting
the vengeance you took out on me in the barn when you
killed me with your starblades.”
“Starblades. I like that.” Ediye smiles as though I’ve
brought up fond memories. “I’m not forgetting. Because
that was justice.”
I can’t argue with her on that point. I could have fought
back in the barn, but I had a debt to pay. Ediye was owed
her pound of flesh.
“Did Lu ever tell you how we met?” the witch asks, her
voice quieter than before. I glance up and shake my head.
She gives me a bittersweet smile. “She’d overheard a
human man in a tavern, bragging about how he’d caught
me. His name was Matthew.”
“Matthew,” I repeat with a huff of a mirthless laugh at
the meaning of his name. Gift from God. “I can imagine Lu
would find him appetizing.”
“Definitely. He had me subdued in his cottage. It was
late when he returned from the tavern that night. I heard
him coming up the stairs, and I was terrified. I refused to
use my powers for his advantage. I knew he was going to
kill me for it. And then, all of a sudden, I heard this loud
thud on the porch. In dances this wild whirlwind of a
vampire, dragging Matthew by the ankle. I was just as
afraid of being cornered by her, but she was determined to
be friends, whether I wanted to or not. Great friends, Lu
even said. I just know it.”
A long sigh passes my lips. “That sounds like Lu.”
“Yeah,” Ediye says. Her voice sounds thin and weak. I
hear her swallow and I look over, but her eyes are cast
down from me. “She helped me take my justice. We were
not merciful. And we didn’t stop at Matthew.”
I notice in the silence stretching around us that I must
have stopped sharpening my blade. I turn it over in my
hand as I wait for the witch to either continue or leave her
memories buried in history.
A scuffling sound draws my attention to the door behind
us and Cyrus appears, his gaze bouncing between me and
the witch. He says nothing, just jerks his head in the
direction of the hall. My fury swirls in anticipation. I trap it
in my gut and wave him off. He nods and disappears down
the hall and I watch the empty space of the doorway as his
footsteps retreat down the corridor.
“I had a son once,” Ediye says, almost a whisper. My
gaze snaps back to her but her eyes are fused to her
upturned palms. “He was half human. It was just me and
him. His name was Tayo. It means boy full of happiness.”
Pinpoints of light appear above the witch’s palms. The
image of a child takes form in the shifting, luminescent
grains, like glowing sand. The animated face of the young
boy laughs without sound, and Ediye smiles. I close my
eyes as my head drops.
“Matthew.”
“Yes. Matthew found out I was a witch, a real witch, and
watched me for several days. I didn’t know. He saw an
opportunity with Tayo, and he took it the first chance he
got. If Tayo had inherited any of my abilities, he was too
young for them to manifest to protect himself when he was
in danger. I left the cottage to go foraging for lobelia at the
river, and I wanted Tayo to stay back, so I had a human girl
from down the road come to watch him. He wasn’t a strong
swimmer. The river was fast with spring meltwater. I
thought he’d be safer at home.” Ediye lifts her palms and
blows the light from her hands. “I was wrong.”
Ediye stands and moves toward the center of the room.
My chest is burning with rage for the loss she has endured.
My wings spill plumes of smoke across the floor as I watch
her take a few steps away.
“When I got back to the cabin, the girl was dead and
Tayo wasn’t there. But Matthew was. He said he would kill
my son unless I went with him and used my powers for
whatever he wanted. Stealing money. Stealing booze.
Murdering people he didn’t like. Petty human things. But I
would have done anything for Tayo. So, I agreed to go with
Matthew. I left my home as his hostage. And within two
days, my son was dead. I felt it, the moment his light left
the world.” The witch turns to face me with fierce eyes full
of latent anger, tears glistening on her dark skin. “I took
the lives of everyone who helped Matthew. I killed anyone
even remotely acquainted with him, even if they knew
nothing about me. Lu was with me every step of the way.
She never judged me when justice became vengeance. And
it was Lu who helped me see the path back. We won’t find
Tayo’s light in this darkness, Ediye, and he can’t see you if
you wear it like a cloak. Goddess above. It was like she
reached right into my chest and crushed the last of my
heart with those words. The thought that his bright little
soul could be out there somewhere, unable to find me, it
was unbearable. Or even worse, that he was watching from
beyond the veil and didn’t recognize me in my grief and
vengeance. That was when I knew I had to stop. I had to
learn to nurture my light, so I could be the lantern to show
Tayo the way in the dark.”
 I didn't think my heart could fit another layer of sorrow
in its broken cage, but it takes Ediye’s words and makes
room for more. The witch’s onyx eyes bore into me, and I
look away. “I cannot stop. Not until we uncover everyone
who was working with the Nephilim. Not until we know
why they really wanted Lu. I might never find her if not.”
“All right, Reaper. But ask yourself this: can she find
your light in this darkness?”
A flare of fire burns in my back. Smoke thickens around
us. “There is no light in me to find. There is only darkness.
Lu is my light.”
A long, patient breath leaves the witch. We look at one
another for a moment until I cannot bear her empathetic
scrutiny any longer. I turn my attention to my knife and
resume the steady sweep of the blade across the stone.
“I’ll be at Bit Akalum with Cole. Join us, if you change
your mind,” Ediye says as she lays a hand on my shoulder.
“I won’t.”
“I know. But you can try.” Ediye squeezes her fingers
around my skin as though trying to impart her gentle calm.
It’s a futile effort. She pulls her hand away and starts
toward the door.
“Witch,” I call out before she passes into the corridor.
Her footsteps halt at the threshold. I stand, tilting my head
side to side, relishing the crack between my bones. Pain
slides down my back as my wings uncoil, smoke and flame
and sparks. And something more.
I don’t turn around. This is my reminder of who I am,
who I really am, should she try to push too far.
“Tell Cyrus to send them in. I’m ready.”
There is a silent pause. And then the witch is gone.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 9

I f it wasn’t for the whisper ribbon, I’d be finding a

way to burst my own eardrums so I could get some
sleep.
And yes, whisper ribbon is a technical term.
The whisper ribbon that appears once a day is the only
respite I have from the constant ticking of the shifting
rings. The one other sound I can focus on, if even for a few
moments.
And it’s the only thing standing between me and
freedom.
That and a wall.
And a seemingly cursed tourmaline stone.
And a super gross ocean.
Also a gigantic octopus thing with hook tentacles.
So, you know, not much.
…Fuck.
It’s been what, maybe six days? Seven? I’m not sure how
long I was asleep for when I woke on the stone floor. Long
enough for the hook marks from that tentacled
motherfucker to repair in my back. I awoke healed but
hungry, and then gradually more hangry, and now my
stomach is probably eating nearby organs.
Also, drowning in that disgusting sea was about as awful
as you can imagine.
 Turns out, drowning is a very inefficient way to kill a
siren-vampire-hybrid. I would have been thrilled to die and
end up in the Resurrection Chamber, but that didn’t
happen. It was more like perpetual near death. A lot of
gagging and pain and panic and thrashing but not actual
dying. The fucked-up hook octopus dragged me across the
seabed for a good distance until I passed out and somehow
ended up here, wherever the fuck this is. Some kind of
cavern, the entrance blocked by the sea itself, as though
I’m in a bubble at the bottom of the ocean. It seems
Hooktopus just ditched me here and left. Thankfully, it
didn’t have any hentai tendencies. Small blessings, I
guess.
Since then, there’s been no food, no sleep, no
worthwhile entertainment. No sense of Ashen at all in my
mated mark. Not even for a moment. No Ediye, though I’ve
tried and tried and tried to summon her through the
pendant. The key Ashen gave me before I ran seems to
have no power here, not that I know how to use it anyway.
No successfully offing myself either, thanks to Ashen’s spell
in Ravello, that fucker. Not for lack of trying. So it’s only
been the constant tick, tick, tick of the rings on the wall as
they shift. And then, once a day, as the words on the rings
come closer and closer to aligning, the whisper ribbon.
And this time, I’m gonna get that fucking stone.
The first day, I tried to just go for it. I walked right up to
the obsidian wall and grazed my fingertips on the
tourmaline sphere and it shot me back across the cavern.
Rejected. I guess technically I did sleep a little that first
day, because I hit my head so hard it knocked me out.
Day two, I tried to swim out the hole. Hooktopus was
having none of it and tentacled me right back in here.
In all the days since, I’ve tried pretty much everything to
get myself out. I’ve hunted through the cavern for clues or
hidden hatches. I’ve pushed the rings. Touched the letters.
And I’ve watched, trying to learn the pattern of the rings
and the meaning of the silver glyphs. The text emblazoned
in each once is unfamiliar, same as the whisper ribbon that
twists around me like a transparent scroll of sheet music. I
can actually see the words in those last few moments, just
before they slip through the narrow space that opens
around the stone when the rings align. But the sound…
some words sound almost like Sumerian.
And I might have figured it out.
Maybe.
If not, at least I’ll probably whack my head hard enough
that I’ll get to sleep for a while.
It’s not long now. The ticking grows louder as the
convergence approaches. The glyphs will start to glow
brighter. And then the whisper will surface from the rings
themselves and drift around the cavern like a snake of
words.
And right on time, the glyphs brighten.
I stand in front of the stone, close enough to reach out
and touch it. But I don’t. Not yet.
The ticking grows like a pulse, reverberating through
my chest. The whispering comes from everywhere around
me. It shifts and twists through the cave as though testing
its boundaries. It moves like a specter. It becomes a
transparent, scrolling, curving line of text and sound. I
start to chant with the repeating words, even though I
don’t know what they really mean.
Hursanu y aabba
Ziana y anzu
Os naru nibiru insabatu
Elu lo zaqru
Nadna lo sagzal
Mitusitum
Over and over. Louder and louder. Tick, tick, tick.
Timing is everything.
I reach out and grab the ribbon as it shoots toward the
opening of light that expands around the stone. I wrap it
around my hand, chanting the words that still flood the
space around me as I twist the scroll up my arm like a band
of cool silk. The rings shift closer to alignment.
Three.
Elu lo zaqru.
Two.
Nadna lo sagzal.
One.
Mitusitum.
I reach out and grab the stone with my bound hand and
tear it free of the light.
I’m blown down with the force of it. It knocks me on my
back, but I’ve got it. It’s clutched to my chest and I’m not
letting it go.
I sit up as the rings shift, layering one on top of the next,
from the center moving outwards. My feet are unsteady as
I rise and step closer, the veil of light growing more
transparent until it shimmers like a diaphanous curtain.
On the other side, there are countless threads of
different lengths, each one twinkling with lights of shifting
colors. There are a few scattered throughout that are solid
black or blue or gray or purple or gold, but most are
multicolored and shimmering. There’s a constant shearing,
snipping sound. Every so often, one of the multicolored
strands brightens at the end of its string and disappears.
The final rings on the wall click into place and a gentle
breeze stirs the strings of light, pulling some of them back
so that I can just make out a figure in the distance.
Someone sitting. I can’t see a face or clothing or what
they’re doing. But I hear a woman’s voice.
Leucosia Anthemoessatum.
Rakbu mitusitum.
Eteru sut.
A metallic shing fills the cavern as the rings slide back
into place, closing the woman and the threads from my
view. The whisper ribbon fades from my arm. The ticking
has stopped and the rings on the wall don’t move, but the
glyphs still shed their dim light. I’m left with the gentle
hum emanating from the tourmaline sphere in my palms
and more questions than answers.
I press my fingers to my mark and close my eyes, trying
to reach for Ashen, but there’s nothing there. I can’t feel
his emotions beneath my skin or his presence in my veins. I
swallow a knot of worry about what that could mean,
running over the same thoughts that have plagued me
every hour I’ve spent trapped in here. If he’s dead I’d be
dead, right? What if he’s in another realm? What if he’s
hurt? Unconscious? In a coma? What if what if what if.
I let go of a long sigh and open my eyes, my fingers
drifting up to Ediye’s pendant as I stare at the silent wall.
Ninmen Eslal, I whisper.
I sit utterly still for a long while, straining to hear
anything at all. But nothing comes. No crackling of Ediye’s
power. No glittering black orb. Just the gentle lapping of
the black water against the cavern entrance, which feels
like a soothing balm in the absence of the incessant ticking
of the rings.
I turn to the mouth of the cave with the tourmaline
sphere in my hand. I guess I’ll have to swim for it. I don’t
know how I’m going to manage to hang on to this thing if
Hooktopus decides to take me for another ride. I have an
innate sense that I need to keep hold of this gem, no matter
what. So, I’ll do my best or die trying.
I’m about to step into the curtain of water when a wind
picks up, sweeping my heartbeat away with it. A sound like
a popping, spitting fire fills the space behind me. I set the
sphere down at my feet and turn so slowly, hoping with
desperation that it’s not an illusion of my sleepless mind.
It’s an orb of stars, glittering and falling across black
space.
“Bella! Where the hell have you been, loca?” Ediye says
as she steps through the black sphere. Her wide smile is
brilliant white against her midnight skin. Her eyes shine
with unshed tears.
I cackle a laugh, my own tears burning in my eyes. “Oh
shut the fuck up,” I say, and then I run into her arms.
I crash into the best friend I’ve ever known and a relief
like no other washes over me. We wrap one another in a
tight embrace, swaying as we laugh and cry. We ask
questions and don’t really answer them. Where have you
been? What happened? And we pour our hearts into the
empty cavern. I missed you so much. I’ve been so worried. I
love you.
We stay locked in our hug until Ediye’s warm sage scent
burns in my throat. It’s as though she can sense the fiery
pain of vampiric hunger. She releases me just enough to
lower a backpack from her shoulder, pulling a bag of blood
from several bunched up inside.
“You are a fucking gem,” I say as venom coats my
mouth. And I know who it’s from as soon as it nears my
lips. I know without even tasting it. That wave of relief
turns into a sea. I know he’s alive. “Ashen’s blood,” I
whisper.
“He’s been stockpiling, just in case,” Ediye replies as I
gulp down the contents of the bag, sighing as it tingles and
fizzes down my throat. “I just happened to be leaving Bit
Akalum when I felt your call. I ran back to the kitchen and
grabbed what I could from the fridge. I figured you might
be in need. Do I know my vampire, or do I know my
vampire?”
“You so do,” I say with gratitude, wiping away tears. I
drain the contents and pass back the empty blood bag and
then the tourmaline stone from the floor for safekeeping in
her backpack before engulfing Ediye in another embrace.
When we finally separate, she casts her eyes across the
cavern, taking in the details.
“Where are we?”
 I rub my hands together, give them a clap, and clear my
throat.
Ediye groans and rolls her eyes. “Oh Christ.”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
“I can see that,” she says as she levels me with a flat
glare, but her smile still kicks up one side of her lips.
“Ediye, listen to me…”
“God no.”
“The human world, it’s a mess...”
“Just don’t.”
“Life under the sea is shitter than anything they got up
there...”
Ediye snorts.
“Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter, take it from
me…”
“Please do not tell me Ashen dirty talks you with lyrics
from The Little Mermaid.”
“No, but let me shelve that one for the future. Now
listen up bitch, because here it comes. Each little clam here
know how to jam here UNDER THE SEA.” I embellish that
last line of my abridged song with a big wink and a
dramatic set of jazz hands.
“Wow.”
“We’re under the sea.”
“I gathered.”
“But there are no jamming clams. Just a beast I’ve
named Hooktopus. I can confirm that he’s decidedly less
fun than musical molluscs.”
“Hooktopus?”
“A monster octosquid-type-thing with hooky tentacles,” I
say as I turn to show her the shredded back of my shirt.
Ediye’s fingers touch my cool skin as she traces the lines
torn through the fabric. “Jeez, Lu. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. He didn’t want to film any anime
monster porn, so I lucked out, really.”
 Ediye barks a laugh and pushes another bag of blood
into my hands. “Hooktopussy. You could have been rich.”
“Another chance at a porn star career out the window.”
We smile at one another as I take a long sip from the blood
bag. “Speaking of porn stars, where’s Ashen?”
“He’s on what you might call a rampage. Something
about burning the realms soul by soul until you’re given
back. Bring me my wife or I will incinerate you all and
make Leucosia the queen of ash. And so on.”
“Wow. Cool.”
“Yeah. I amend what I said in the dungeons about him
being the worst of your man choices. You couldn’t have
picked a better match if you tried. Right up your alley,
babe.”
I snort a laugh. “Alley. I see what you did there.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t let him die behind
Cheese Louise after all.”
“Well hot damn,” I say, brushing down the wrinkles in
my torn shirt. It does a whole lot of fuck all. “Sounds like
I’ve been missing out. Do you think we can sneak back so I
can surprise him? Maybe spell my mark for a little while so
he can’t feel me coming?”
Ediye lifts a shoulder, her expression nonchalant. “Yeah,
probably. He was in the midst of a killing spree when you
summoned me. I honestly doubt he’d even know if I left. He
kind of had a demonic-blood-misty-smoke-rage situation
going on.”
My eyebrows climb as Ediye shrugs again. She undoes
the button on my shirt and looks from the mark to my eyes
and back again. It’s the first time she’s actually seen it, and
the sly smile on her face doesn’t really give me the warm
fuzzies.
“The Scepter of Ereshkigal?” she asks.
“Appears so, yeah,” I reply. A star sparks in Ediye’s eye.
Her smile grows a little more wicked. “Any theories, oh
witchy one?”
 “Maybe one or two.”
“Such as?”
“Meh, you know. Destiny and some shit. Rightful Queen
of the Shadow Realm, bringing balance to the force.”
I snicker and Ediye’s smile grows wider as she looks
closer at the gold and lapis design, the crescent moon and
eight-pointed star twinkling in the dim light of the glyphs.
“Bitch, please. That’s Star Wars.”
“Yeah, still. The place will definitely turn to chaos
without you if Ashen is left to his own devices for much
longer. So, it’s probably not that far off.” Ediye taps the
mark with her delicate index finger and then grabs my
shoulders, squaring me up to stand straighter. “Come on.
Let’s get you back to your Reaper before he burns the
realm down and makes good on his promise to make you
into the ruler of a dust bowl. That doesn’t sound nearly as
much fun as fucking with some demons and you can’t really
do that if they’re all dead.”
“You know me so well,” I say as Ediye places her hand
over my mark and starts chanting a simple spell that will
veil my emotions. “So…Ashen’s still going with the wife
thing, huh?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, her eyes flicking up to mine as my
mark warms beneath her palm. “And today’s not the day to
bring it up. As much as I love when you mess with that
man, he’s in pretty rough shape.”
I give the witch a skeptical look before glancing down at
her hand. “You’re literally spelling my mark as we speak,
Ediye. And now you’re telling me today is not the day to
fuck with him?”
“Fucking with him to sneak up and surprise him? Sure.
Arguing with him about this wife point? Hell no.” Ediye lifts
her hand away, and my mark flares with warmth. “There. It
will fade as soon as you touch him. Now let’s get the fuck
out of dodge.”
 Ediye reaches her hand to me, and I place my palm in
hers. Together, we step into the darkness, leaving the silent
rings behind.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 10

E diye and I arrive in the Kur where the great hall is as

quiet as a tomb. Zida lies curled on the dais and
raises her head as the black sphere dissolves around us.
Her tongue flicks in our direction and her scales shift as
her tight coils loosen, but she doesn’t leave her resting
spot. She just watches as we head further into the depths
of the building.
I’ve never been to this part of the Kur, but Ediye seems
to know her way around the dimly lit corridors. She
navigates the space with confidence, even when we pass a
pair of soldiers who try not to gape at the nearly naked,
rather grimy, exceedingly smelly Queen in their midst. They
dart their gazes away. I guess they’ve taken Ashen’s
warning to heart, judging by the flash of fear I scent on
their skin as they pass.
We drift by a few rooms, one a wide throne room with
tall windows overlooking the fog-covered Bay of Souls.
There are a few smaller rooms that must have been offices
for council members, each one emptied of everything but
desks and chairs. And finally at the end of the hall, Ediye
slows her quiet steps and stops at an open door, a grim look
of worry crinkling the space between her brows. She
glances at me with a smile that looks equal parts sorrowful
and relieved, and nods toward the room.
 My heart pounds at my bones as I survey the scene
before me. I take a few tentative steps inside, my senses
assaulted with the sights and sounds and smells of rage.
Ashen stands with his back to me a short distance away
in the tall, wide space where a table rests broken against
one wall and chairs are scattered around the perimeter,
some shattered and others overturned. His wings cascade
to the floor in thick curtains of black smoke, vibrant sparks
layered in their depths. But beneath the black clouds and
the falling cinders is something akin to snakeskin, the
ridges of each black scale lit like orange embers twisting
through wood. I’ve never seen his wings like this. I didn’t
even know it was possible, and it’s both frightening and
magnificent. The light within them shimmers as he moves
over whatever has captured his attention, the work of his
hands obscured by the thick smoke and black scales and
the threads of deep amber light.
I glance at Ediye but her expression is stoic and
unreadable. The sound of a tight and anguished cry draws
my attention back to Ashen, and beyond him flows the
desperate pulse of a heart that’s giving up.
“Bring. Me. My. Wife,” Ashen snarls.
“I don’t know where she is,” the man grits out, his voice
thin and garbled as though his mouth is full of stones. A
piercing cry flows from the demon in Ashen’s grasp.
“I said to bring her to me. I did not say you could talk.”
Ashen’s growl unleashes with dark and wicked
satisfaction. There’s popping. Ripping. A gurgling rush. The
sound of blood splattering across the floor. The distressed
heart stutters. It stops. Only Ashen’s remains, his breathing
quickened with exertion.
“Well,” I say. Ashen’s spine straightens as though he’s
been doused with ice water. “Let me guess, Reaper. Did he
spit in your butter?”
Ashen’s wings crackle as he slowly turns to face me.
 The Reaper’s naked chest is spattered with blood and
glistening with a sheen of sweat. His arms bear jagged
scratches where enemies have tried to fight back and
failed. His face has a haunted beauty, dark circles of
sleepless nights framing his cognac eyes. The black flame
in his pupils is rimmed with bright crimson rings. He looks
every inch the demon until he takes a breath, as though he
hasn’t breathed in days. The man beneath the Reaper rises
to the surface as his brow furrows and his eyes take on a
glassy sheen.
“Lu?..” Ashen grips a mangled body by the bloody neck.
The man’s disarticulated jaw is clenched in Ashen’s other
fist. It’s been ripped clean off, the tongue lolling out of the
demon’s disfigured face like a grotesque purple slug.
“Wow,” I say, gesturing to the corpse he holds. It lands
with a wet thud on top of another bloodied body, the teeth
of the jaw smashing against the stone floor as he drops that
too. There are more bodies scattered around the room,
some turning to cinders, others lying in everlasting death.
“You’ve been busy.”
In a few quick strides, Ashen is sweeping me up in his
arms, crushing me to his burning chest as though trying to
absorb me. The magic of Ediye’s spell dissolves when my
mated mark touches his. As soon as it’s gone, the wave of
his relief floods my chest and climbs my throat and steals
my breath, strong enough to choke me. I squeeze my arms
around his neck and press my face against Ashen’s skin,
breathing in his scent, its usual warmth hidden beneath
notes of blood and the salty musk of rage.
Ashen sets me down and grasps my face between his
gory palms, kissing every inch of my skin. My eyes, the tip
of my nose, my cheeks, my lips, the tears that cling to my
lashes. They are all peppered with desperate little kisses
until I laugh, and still there are more, and more, and more,
until finally he lifts me from the floor again. He nuzzles my
neck, whispering his subsiding anguish into my ear. My Lu.
My Lu, my Lu. My wife. I couldn’t feel you anywhere. I
searched but you were gone. Just gone. I’ve never known
such endless panic. Where were you? I lost myself, Lu. It
was oblivion. I was consumed by darkness without you, my
Lu.
Ashen holds on and he whispers and he kisses and my
tears flow in a stream that might never end, dripping down
his skin. Ashen turns us around just enough that he faces
Ediye over my shoulder, though he still doesn’t let me go.
“You brought her back to me,” he says. His voice is barely
more than a strained and gritty whisper. “Thank you,
Ediye.”
Ediye doesn’t say anything. I just hear the swish of her
hair as she nods. But I know her better than anyone. I know
she must be trying not to cry. She hates crying in front of
anyone but me.
Maybe Ashen senses it too, or maybe it’s his own
emotion that he’s trying to hide, but he turns away, and it’s
a long moment before he sets me down and lets me stand
on my own two feet, though not without keeping his hands
wrapped around my upper arms.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and smile at
Ashen, his face such a mix of pain and exhaustion and the
relief that’s still stuck in my throat. “All right, Reaper?”
Ashen lets out a huff of a laugh and his answer is a
sweet, soft kiss. The flame of desire is dim beneath
everything else that I feel in him. Other needs are more
urgent. The need to protect. The desire to be caring, and so
gentle, to use those bloodied hands to nurture after meting
out suffering and harm.
I run my fingers across Ashen’s mark as I open my lips
and coax his tongue to meet mine. My Master of War. I feel
the imbalance in him, the way his desperation must have
tipped the scales and plummeted him into destruction. But
there is peace and mercy and life in him too. And I know it
will come back with every touch.
 “You smell like the Bay of Souls,” he whispers when he
pulls away.
“I went for an unexpected dip in the sea. It sucked, by
way. There was an unfriendly creature that decided to drag
me across the seabed for a while. I ended up in a strange
underwater cavern.”
“We felt nothing from you there.”
“Likewise. I felt nothing through my mark. I tried to
summon Ediye too, but nothing happened.”
“What changed? How did you get out?”
“There was some kind of door. Or a portal maybe.
Something blocking me. When I figured out the…key…I
guess it’s a key?.. I still couldn’t feel you, but I tried Ediye
again and it worked.”
Ashen looks at me for a long moment before he sighs,
resting his forehead against mine as he closes his eyes.
“That’s my vampire.” Movement in the periphery captures
my attention as his wings curl around us until we’re
shrouded in our own private realm. “I’m sorry I wasn’t
there. I should have been. I never should have asked you to
run. I failed you,” Ashen whispers. His quiet confession
enlivens his scent with something sweet, like carnations
stained with the blood that still coats his hands.
“Don’t, Ashen. We both made the only choices we could
with only moments to decide. I chose to run. You fought so I
could get away.”
“It is not enough.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“That’s not the point, vampire.”
“It has to be. We can’t change time. And we’re all safe.
That has to be the only thing that matters.”
Ashen lowers his gaze from mine and I know I haven’t
changed his mind. His anger, whether it’s at others, or fate,
or the man he sees when he looks in the mirror, it cuts a
wound too deep for me to heal with words.
 I lay my hands to his face and pull Ashen into a kiss as
his wings crackle around us. The taste of his lips fills the
emptiness that’s gnawed a hole into me these last days.
“Can we go somewhere?” I ask when I draw back and look
into his eyes. The bright red rings that encircle his irises
have dimmed, just a little. “I don’t even want to talk. Just
touch. Just sleep.”
Ashen nods as his wings shift, opening our sanctuary to
the world. When I look toward the door, Cole is there with
his hand around Ediye’s. We exchange relieved, weary
smiles as Cyrus passes through the door, dragging a
terrified demon in chains behind him, two more soldiers
following in their wake. Cyrus lurches to a halt as his gaze
shifts between me and Ashen. He looks as though he’s been
thrown from a routine and plunged into the unknown.
“My Queen,” he finally says with a bow of his head after
what seems like a long moment of indecision.
My Queen. Fuck, that’s strange. I don’t think I’ll ever
get used to it.
“Heyyy-hi… hi-lo Cyrus.” Christ. So awkward. Ediye
covers a snort with a cough. Ashen’s hold on my hand
grows hotter, his attention squarely on the demon in
chains.
I recognize the man from the battle with the hybrids.
He’s the one who hit the beast in the eye with a blade.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
The man swallows. “Pyrrhus,” he answers simply, until
Ashen lets out a low growl and he tacks on “your grace”.
Lordy, that’s just as weird as Queen. Maybe weirder.
“You were there in the field.”
Pyrrhus nods once. Beads of sweat dot his hairline. His
heart hammers at double the pace of everyone else’s. I get
the impression he’s been in this room before and knows
what’s coming, but he tries his best to keep his fear from
his face.
 I regard Pyrrhus with a long look, watching as his chest
rises and falls with quick breaths. “You missed the first
time.”
We both know what I mean. Pyrrhus intended to hit me.
His eyes flick to my throat as though remembering where
he meant for his blade to land. “Yes,” he replies, his voice
resigned to his honesty.
“You didn’t miss the second time,” I say, and Ashen’s
rage flares all around me as he misinterprets my words. His
wings crackle with sparks, the leathery skin sweeping
across the floor as they expand. I squeeze his hand in a
silent request for patience.
Pyrrhus casts a nervous glance to the furious demon
behind me. “That is correct.”
“Why? You could have tried for me again. You didn’t.”
It takes Pyrrhus a long moment to consider this. His
gaze drops to the floor before returning to mine once more.
“You,” he says. The word hangs between us as I wait. “You
warned me about the venom in their bite. You chose my
side.”
I take a step closer. I know I could probably just wrench
the truth right out of his mind, but the words he chooses to
give me mean more than taking honesty by force. He
straightens, steeling himself for what he seems to expect
will be a painful turn of events. “I have one more question.
Once the battle was over, if you had the chance, would you
still have taken me for whatever Ember’s plan had been?”
Pyrrhus looks at my throat again, but I don’t think he’s
really seeing me. He’s seeing the possible outcomes of that
battle, placing himself into different futures through a
nonexistent past. “I don’t know,” he replies when he meets
my eyes. “If I was the last one left, no. If the others were
there, perhaps. Probably.”
Ashen’s rage burns at my back with those words. I take
one more step closer. The scent of sulfur and something
earthy and herbal drift toward me. Fear. And truth.
 “Thank you,” I say, though I don’t say why. For his
honesty. For not hurting me when he had the chance.
I turn to Ashen and the red rings around his irises glow
bright with fury. I squeeze his bloody hand and give him a
fleeting smile. “Let’s go.”
Ashen’s throat bobs as he swallows. He releases a deep
breath. He gives a single nod. “Dungeons,” he says to
Cyrus without taking his eyes from me.
“Yes, sir.”
I turn and watch as the two soldiers tug on Pyrrhus’
chains. A flash of gratitude passes across the demon’s face
and then he’s pulled out the door, the sound of chains
clinking down the hall.
Cyrus turns to follow them but pauses on the threshold.
“My Queen,” he says. He looks at me with a softness in his
eyes, like the relief of a burden lifted. “Welcome home.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 11

F or the first time in the Shadow Realm, I walk

through the shroud of mist feeling at ease. The
streets are still quiet, the details in the darkness concealed
by fog. The crawlers still scuttle behind shrubs and peer
around buildings, their shattered minds whispering to me.
We see a few souls who stand and watch us pass. Their
voices come alive in my head, if I let them. I see images of
their former lives. Werewolves running through forests,
witches picking herbs or collecting feathers. Even an
apothecary, distilling poisons and potions in her light-filled
laboratory. And some speak to me. Leucosia of
Anthemoessa, they say. Bright soul. Queen of the Shadow
Realm.
You would think it’s strange. Maybe it should be. But it
makes me feel more comfortable here. Hearing their voices
is like walking through the streets of the House of Virtues
in the Realm of Light, where children play tag and dogs
steal popcorn and people wave their greetings of welcome.
Maybe here it’s a little less…cheery…and has more of a
Nightmare Before Christmas vibe, but I sense these souls
are relieved to see me, even if they still suffer.
I intend to fix that.
And it seems Ashen might already have a head start on
me.
 “Where are the carriages?” I ask, looking around us as I
strain to listen for their wheels lumbering down the road.
Ashen’s fingers tighten around mine as he glances down
at me. His eyes are still ringed with red light, the flame
within them black as the night sky. His wings flow behind
us like a wraith. “Parked.”
“Parked. Parked where? The underground carriage
garage?”
Ashen gives me the weakest, weariest smile. “Near
House Mushussu.”
“Would that be your doing?”
Ashen shrugs. “Technically yours. I was just ensuring
your wishes were followed.”
“And the souls? Won’t the hyenas eat them?”
Ashen raises our interlaced fingers to his lips and kisses
my fingertips. “No, vampire. They have been rounded up.
The souls are safe.”
“Well, I’m sorry I missed that. I’m sure it was fun trying
to corral a bunch of decaying demon hyenas,” I say,
relishing the feeling of Ashen’s gentle smile against my
skin before he lowers my hand. “Anything else I missed? Is
Urtur okay? I heard him howl and whine when we were
attacked.”
Ashen’s palm grows hotter against mine. “He was
injured but he is fine. I can’t say the same for your statue,
however. A Nephilim broke it as they fought.”
“Oh Christ. I’m so sorry, Ashen. It was truly an
incredible piece of art. So beautiful.” I squeeze Ashen’s
hand and try to calm my emotion, knowing he can sense
the swirl of sadness and anger through the bond we share.
“Did you strip the bastard of his spine?”
“Unfortunately not. The Nephilim managed to flee. The
Shub Lugal nearly caught up with them, but they escaped
through a corridor and closed it behind them. I’ve shut all
the remaining portals and positioned guards at each one.
No traveling without permission. Any Reapers in the Living
Realm will have to wait there until we can eradicate the
threat.”
I take a deep breath, feeling a little lighter with that
news. “We should establish a rotation of accessible portals
and try and bring the Reapers home. Maybe Ediye can help
to create a way they can communicate with us in case
there’s an emergency. I wouldn’t put it past the Nephilim to
launch another attack and I’d rather have a way for us to
know in advance.”
“Consider it done. I will handle it tomorrow,” Ashen
says, and we fall into thoughtful silence for a long moment
as we walk. The whole ticking rings experience in the
cavern has me desperate for a restful sleep, which will be
easier knowing I hopefully won’t be attacked in the night
again, at least for one night. Though in the Shadow Realm,
there are never any guarantees.
“Any ideas how they got in?” I ask when I can muster the
energy to speak again.
“Yes, actually,” Ashen says, his voice dropping an octave.
“The demon who I was…working on…when you arrived. He
took over from Ember when she was killed, pushing
forward whatever her ultimate plan was. Zida tracked him
in the Living Realm and brought him back. He has refused
to give up his secrets despite the torture, however. It seems
the others he was with knew very little of the plan.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m back in that case. I can try
wrenching it out of his mind.”
Ashen slows to a stop, pulling me with him. He turns to
face me. The warmth of his eyes traverses the angles of my
cheeks and jaw. His gaze rests on my lips for a long
moment before connecting to mine once more. “I am not
sure that would be such a good idea,” he says as he sweeps
locks of grimy hair from my shoulder. “His name is Joash.
He is Hakan’s brother. The demon you killed on
Anthemoessa.”
 I blow out a long sigh through pursed lips. “Well. That
might be a little awkward. I probably owe him an apology
before I steal his secrets.”
“You owe him nothing,” Ashen growls, gripping my
shoulder with burning fingers. The leathery skin of his
wings crackles as threads of sparks snap and pop between
the scales.
“Joash’s awful deed doesn’t absolve me of my mistakes,
Ashen.”
He blinks at me like I’ve just grown a second head. His
shoulders fall a fraction. He bows his head for a breath and
then pulls me into a tight embrace. “My Lu. I missed your
light more than you could ever know.”
“You do realize I still would have killed Hakan if he was
the one at fault. And I would have killed your sister if I’d
known it was her.”
“It would have been justice.”
I pull away enough to look into the softening features of
Ashen’s haunted beauty. “Would it? Aglaope was up to
something when she was working with Davina to kill and
harvest a demigod. As much as I hate to admit it, and I
really do hate it, she might have been courting the
consequences that ended up killing her.”
Ashen places a lingering kiss to my cheekbone, my
eyelashes fluttering across his lips as I close my eyes and
relish his warmth. “I doubt my sister reaped yours to
uphold the rules of gods or realms,” he whispers against
my skin. “Her interests never reached much further than
her own benefit.”
I sink back into Ashen’s embrace, thinking about
Aglaope and the flash of my vision of her confrontation with
Ember on Anthemoessa. The scent of Ashen’s skin twists
the hunger in my belly, and I start releasing my grip from
his waist just as I hear a familiar yipping bark. The click of
nails on the surface of the road pulls my attention toward a
pair of amber eyes bounding toward us through the mist.
 “Urtur!” I throw my arms open wide and the giant jackal
bowls into me, his whole body wriggling as his black tail
fans the fog behind him. He whines and licks my face with
excitement until I push him away enough to wrap my arms
around his neck.
“I think I’ve been usurped as his favorite,” Ashen
grumbles behind me.
“That’s because you don’t like his snoring, whereas I
find it adorable,” I say, grabbing the jackal’s jowls as he
pants his sulfurous breath into my face. “Right, Urtur? I
want to give you a gigantic dog bed, but the Reaper wants
you to sleep outside. He’s so mean. I know you’re the best
boy and you deserve a big fluffy bed.”
“Just you wait until he pisses on the sheets. You’ll think
differently then,” Ashen says. He tries to sound serious, but
I can still hear the amusement in his voice.
“He wouldn’t,” I reply with mock horror as I cast a smile
at Ashen over my shoulder. I’ll never tire of the way he
looks at me in moments like this. It closes my lungs around
the air in my chest. My heart burns with longing and the
depth of the love I feel from him, pulling at the edges of my
mated mark. This is my family. Ashen. Ediye and Cole and
Eryx, Urtur and Zida. Maybe even Davina one day. And
maybe Cyrus is right. Maybe I am home.
“Come on, vampire,” Ashen says, holding out a hand out
for me to take. “Let’s get you and your dog some rest.”
I take Ashen’s hand and we walk the streets with Urtur
loping ahead, lighting the way with his amber eyes. I don’t
know where we’re going, but I’m happy to stroll along with
a bag of blood and my hand encased in the Reaper’s warm
grip.
With a few turns, we arrive at a silver stone archway, the
words Ekallim Ukkin carved into the gentle curve that rises
above the road. Palace of the Council. Ashen doesn’t like
this place, I can tell that much not just from the mark that
joins us, but from the tension of his shoulders and spine as
he lets go of my hand to push open the gate that’s guarded
by a pair of soldiers. But I still feel a touch of relief from
him too. This place is safe, even though he hates it.
I can see why.
The palace is a wide, garish structure. Rows of carved
columns display demons conquering werewolves and
witches and vampires. A sea of suffering humans is hewn
into the stone facade below the line of the veranda. There’s
gold and gargoyles and scrolling script celebrating the
wisdom of the Council and the leadership of Eshkar and
Imogen. It’s more than excess…
“It’s fucking hideous,” I say as we ascend the steps
toward a fortified gold door.
“Keep your expectations low, vampire,” Ashen says as he
pushes it open. No surprise, it’s even worse on the inside.
There are more columns, and paintings, and ornate
furniture and historical relics pillaged from the Living
Realm over centuries of time. We don’t linger to take it all
in. We pass through the foyer of ugliness and head toward
the far side of the building, taking a long corridor before
arriving at a closed mahogany door.
Ashen’s wings sweep across the wall as he stands aside
to let me pass into a simple, elegant living suite. I already
know he’s put his mark here. I can smell the fresh coat of
paint that’s covered the walls, most in a warm shade of
white aside from an accent wall of rich gray where a
fireplace stands beneath a marble mantle. There are no
paintings on the walls and only simple furniture that’s too
small for the wide room and high ceilings, but it feels like a
relief from the rest of the palace.
“It’s not permanent. We can fix the old house by the sea,
if you still want to. But I think there is one thing you will
like,” Ashen says. He takes my hand and leads us through
the room and out a set of French doors that open to a stone
patio fringed with lit candles. In the center is a circular,
steaming pool several meters wide. A row of glass bottles
of different sizes sits on a brass tray next to a bottle of wine
and two glasses. Plush black towels and robes lie on a low
ebony table. The scent of warm sandalwood drifts on the
vapors of mist that curl above the milky surface.
“What in the hell is that gloriousness?” I ask, pointing to
the pool.
“Credit goes to Ediye. She portalled here to set it up as
we walked over.”
I drift over to the bottle of wine and pick up a folded
white card, reading Ediye’s familiar, flowing cursive. You
stink. Get clean, sex fiend. And no Little Mermaid lyrics.
Love you, E. I snort a little laugh and walk to the edge,
dipping my dirty toe into the water. It feels like heaven. I
tilt my head back and give the deepest sigh I think I’ve ever
made. “I love you both. With all my heart.”
I smile across the curls of scented steam at my Reaper.
He watches as I strip off my torn shirt, his desire fanning
the midnight flame that coils in his eyes. I descend the
stairs into the pool, keeping my gaze locked to his until the
water reaches my shoulders, and then I close my eyes and
duck my head beneath the milky ripples. The grit of the last
days lifts from my skin and melts away.
When I surface, Ashen is already stripped of his
minimal, blood-soaked clothes. He walks slowly to the
steps, letting me take in every inch of his body, muscled
like a warrior and decorated with the black tattoos that
flow across his chest and shoulders and up the sides of his
neck. His mark shines among them, the gold mace catching
the candlelight.
Sparks hiss and die in the ripples shrouded by the
smoke behind him as he enters the pool. His snakeskin
wings fan across the surface, floating in his wake like a
shimmering cloak.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper, reaching out when he
draws close to touch the glittering light between the scales
that glows even under water. The fire dims where my
fingers trace the curves of the soft, laminated skin. Ashen
closes his eyes as though my touch soothes something
painful. “They hurt?”
“Yes. They burn. But it’s a pain that becomes addictive.”
Ashen’s eyes are still closed as I trace another line of light
and a deep breath fills his lungs. “I fell so far into darkness
that it was the only thing I wanted to feel. Fury kept me
from madness. It gave me purpose as much as it gave me
pain. Your touch reminds me that there are better things
than rage.”
“You didn’t need my touch to remember that,” I say,
watching as another curve of light dims beneath my
fingertips.
Ashen’s hand lays on my face and I look into his eyes,
the red rings fading around the lapping black flame. “Yes,
vampire. I did. I do and I always will.” Ashen’s other palm
rises to my cheek, and he frames my melancholic smile
between his hands. “I am still a demon. Rage and
destruction are in my nature. And when you were taken,
the shadow it cast was so all-consuming that it could only
be driven out by the return of your light.”
I lace my fingers behind Ashen’s neck and draw him
down into a kiss that’s slow and rich, one that takes its time
to build the heat between us. Ashen’s lips still taste like
mint, I still smell the ink that drifts from his skin on the
sandalwood steam. He takes his time with his calloused
hands to follow the line of my back and the curve of my
hips and the swell of my ass. Like always, he places his
heart in his palm when he touches me. He might think he
fell too far into darkness, but he’s still my Ashen.
“Can you fly?” I whisper against his lips. I pull back
enough to look into his eyes as the wings rustle through the
water behind him.
“I don’t know. I was too preoccupied to try,” Ashen says.
I smile as I lock my grip behind his neck and hook one leg
over his hip and then the other. His erection twitches
against me as his hands grip my waist. “Vampire,” he
moans.
“Try,” I whisper, nipping at his lip. “Maybe we’ll fuck up
there, weightless in the mist. What have you got to lose?”
With that, the massive wings rise from the water,
stirring the swirls of smoke and sparks as they spread to
their full width. Water slides back into the pool and drips
across the patio stones, dousing some of the candles whose
flames hiss as they die. Ashen’s wings beat in long, elegant
sweeps. The light between the scales brightens, fed by the
current of air. And then we’re lifting from the water, and
the pool disappears beneath the fog.
We wobble just a little at first, but it doesn’t take more
than a few pumps of his wings before Ashen seems to gain
confidence and even comfort in the movement. I keep my
legs clamped across his back and Ashen grips my thighs as
we float through the heavy fog. It’s our own magical realm,
where there’s just the white curling mist and the rhythmic
whooshing of Ashen’s wings. The higher we go, the more
the shroud thins and the air brightens.
And then we burst from the fog.
We hover over the thick cloud bank that billows in
rolling plumes, the surface around us stirred by Ashen’s
wings. The fog covers everything, stretching to the horizon
and the setting sun that colors the surface in muted yellows
and pinks. Above us, blue sky, deepening in color the
further it spreads from the light of the sun. The first stars
are starting to glimmer in the distant indigo.
“Have you seen the sky here before?” I whisper as we
slowly spin, taking in the sea of clouds.
“Only once,” Ashen says. He folds a lock of wet hair
behind my ear. He’s not looking at the world around us. His
gaze is skimming my features as though cataloging every
detail before landing on my lips. “When I was at the house
on the cliffs. It was the night before I returned to Sanford.
It was late but I couldn’t sleep. I was looking up at the
skylights, trying to convince myself not to go back. The
breeze was rolling the fog across the glass. But suddenly it
swept back, and I saw the stars, just for a moment. The fog
closed around them again and I got up and left for
Sanford.”
“Ashen of House Urbigu. Are you saying some kind of
divine intervention is why you chose to come back?” I
tease, releasing one hand from around his neck to trace the
line of his cheek with my fingers.
“No, vampire. I’d already decided. I just stopped trying
to change my own mind.”
We stare right into one another for a long moment. The
red rings have dissolved from Ashen’s eyes. The fire within
his pupils brightens with crimson wisps among the languid
black flame. He knows how hard it is to both live in
darkness and let go of it. I felt the same, not that long ago.
When I was lonely, I was safe. But I couldn’t stop myself
from taking a risk on him. And he couldn’t stop himself
from doing the same for me.
“I love you, Ashen,” I say. My fingertips trace his lips,
over his chin, down the column of his throat. They flow
between his collarbones. They follow the black edge of his
mated mark. “All your brightest stars. All your deepest
darkness. I love it all.”
Ashen’s breath shudders as my fingers continue down
between us, following the line carved between his abs,
down through the soft curls that trail to his hard erection.
His wings give a stuttering beat as I grip his shaft and glide
the tip across my slick folds, circling my clit.
“You’d better not let us fall, Reaper,” I say between
kisses to the plains of muscle that span Ashen’s chest. I
center his sex to my opening and slide down onto his cock
as he moans. My flesh stretches around his girth and I
relish the fullness, sighing with pleasure as I envelop his
length. He braces one arm across my back as he grips my
ass with his other hand.
 “What, you mean like this?” Ashen’s wings fold around
us and we drop several meters as I squeal and laugh. They
splay wide and beat hard, lifting us above the mist once
more.
“I take it back, that was great,” I say, breathless with the
rush of adrenaline and the warmth of the kisses he presses
to the pulse surging in my neck.
I lift and lower my hips, taking his full length with deep
strokes as he pumps his wings, raising us higher above the
cloud bank. Ashen gives my skin a little nip and I feel his
desire curl at the edges of my mark, a silent, gentle
question. I bring my wrist to my lips and bite down before
offering it to Ashen’s mouth. He takes it greedily, sealing
his lips over the wound. His deep sigh hums within my
flesh, warming my veins.
I place a cool kiss to Ashen’s mark and then slide my
fangs through the gold tattoo. His breath stalls. A deep
growl of pleasure rumbles in his chest. The spiced
sweetness of his blood floats over my tongue and slips
down my throat, warming me from the inside. I keep
drawing it out with deep pulls as I ride his cock, the
pleasure building with the more blood we both take. The
mated connection between us heightens the depth of each
sensation. Every rub of my clit against him, every time my
walls clench around his girth, every simple touch of
intimacy is like harnessing the power of the realms and
trapping it in my very soul.
I let go of Ashen’s mark to move my lips higher,
clamping my fangs to his shoulder so I can grind my body
to his as the pleasure grows closer to the breaking point.
“Christ, vampire,” Ashen hisses as I take a long pull of
blood. “I won’t be able to stop myself from filling you for
much longer.”
“Then don’t,” I whisper when I pull away. I ride his cock
harder, faster, pushing us both to the point where the
climax will be unstoppable in its release.
 Ashen lets go of my wrist, my blood coloring his lips. His
forehead presses to mine. His moan is not just the sound of
pleasure winding tighter as I grind on his erection. It’s the
relief of connection, of holding fast to something you
thought you lost. The crimson rings in Ashen’s eyes hold
fast to mine as I trace my fingers across his face and
whisper his name.
My sex tightens around Ashen’s cock as every stroke
pushes me closer to coming apart. He threads his hand into
my hair and pushes my face back to his shoulder, and I
drink from the open wound. “Fangs,” he says breathlessly,
and I slide them into his flesh as he moans. His other hand
grips my wrist, ready draw it back up to his lips as I grind
on his sex, taking as much of this length as I can. “Are you
there? Are you ready to come?”
I nod and squeeze my eyes shut as my nerves start to
burn with the impending release.
“Then hold on.”
Ashen’s wings wrap around us and we plummet. Their
soft leather caresses my back and his blood fills my veins
and I come apart, crying out into his flesh with the
adrenaline-spiked pleasure. I open my eyes to watch as we
fall through the clear air and into the fog. Ashen’s cock
thickens as my pussy clenches, like my body is desperate to
keep him, and then I feel him release into me, spilling and
pulsing and falling as he lets go of my wrist to let out a
feral, rapturous roar.
I’m still immersed in waves of my orgasm when Ashen
halts our descent with heavy beats of his wings. We hover
in the mist, both still consumed by sex and fear and trust.
We just stay there a while, recovering our breath and
kissing the blood from one another’s lips. When my
heartbeat finally slows, Ashen lowers us through the fog
and right into the pool, his wings draping into the water
with hissing steam.
 “I like the wings. Can we keep them?” I ask, smiling as
Ashen sweeps the hair away from my face and kisses a line
from one cheek to the next, crossing the bridge of my
nose.
“I don’t know, to be honest. They sort of…appeared…in a
fit of rage. I’m not sure how they come or go.”
“Well, they are welcome to stay,” I say, cupping some
water and letting it roll over the trail of blood that flows
down Ashen’s chest. I grip his shoulder and haul myself
higher without breaking the connection between us. I feel
Ashen’s his cock twitch within me and I give him a wicked
smile of desire. “Now that you made me so filthy up there
in the sky, I think you should fuck me in this pool, demon.”
Ashen’s smile darkens with ravenous need. He presses
his lips to mine and lowers us into the water until the
surface is up to our necks, lapping at our jaws. “My Queen.
Your wish is my command.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 12

“H e doesn’t know much more than the others.

Ember kept her cards very close to her chest,” I
say as I release my hand from Joash’s forehead and turn to
face the others. Ashen, Cole, and Ediye look on with dismay
as Cyrus and another guard hold Joash down on a chair.
“Fucking vampire slut,” Joash snarls behind me. I hear
him snort a lob of snotty, bloody spit at me before I can
move out of the way. It lands across the back of my pretty
cream eyelet lace dress. Ashen roars at the guards as the
smoke fires from his back like a pyroclastic cloud. His
deeper wings, which had disappeared after a full day of
sleep, rustle as the soft leather unfurls and spreads
beneath the black smoke.
“You motherfucker. Do you know how hard it is to find
anything even close to white in this realm?” I ask, twisting
to look at the stain. My shoulders sag as I let out a
disappointed sigh. “Well, at least you got the wings to come
back. I should probably thank you for that.”
“Don’t wanna know,” Ediye says.
Cole barks a laugh. “Lies. You want all the details.”
“Fine,” she admits. “I do.”
I smirk at Ediye before shifting my attention to my
furious Reaper. “I did find one little gem, however,” I say.
 I saunter up to Ashen, his rage vibrant with burning
heat. His fiery gaze stays fixed to mine as I come to a stop
before him and reach out my upturned palm. His brow
furrows and he moves to unsheathe his dagger, but I shake
my head and point to the strip of leather that crosses his
chest. He shifts his hand to the hilt of the sword strapped
to his back and my smile is matched by his wicked grin as
he places the handle of the weapon in my palm.
“Cyrus, hold that out for me, would you?” I ask, nodding
to Joash’s wrist. Cyrus pulls the demon’s hand away from
his body as Joash struggles in his chair. We nod once to one
another before I swing the blade in an arc and bring it
down at Joash’s elbow, severing his arm in a clean strike.
Blood splatters across the floor in a pulsing spray. Joash
bellows in pain and rage as Cyrus holds on to the
dismembered arm. “He can be summoned. He has a hidden
bond.”
Ediye steps forward and takes the arm by the severed
hand. I snicker thinking of all the jokes she could make
about hand jobs. She glances at me and smiles, shaking her
head. “There is something wrong with you, woman.”
I motion between the writhing, bleeding demon and the
sword and the severed arm. “Clearly.”
Ediye turns her attention to the demon’s forearm. She
sets it down on a table and places her palm over it as she
starts to chant. A flare of red light bursts from the flesh.
Ediye lifts her palm away to reveal the glowing script.
“Ana harrani sa alaktasa la tarat. Sisitu arad,” she says.
“Road whose course does not turn back. I am your
servant.”
I draw the tip of the sword across my palm before
passing the weapon back to Ashen and returning to Joash,
holding my hand above the severed limb. My blood drips
onto Joash’s injured stump as Ashen lets out a disgruntled
sigh, his wings fluttering against the stone floor. “Can’t
have him bleeding out and taking his arm with him to the
Resurrection Chamber,” I say, tossing my comment over my
shoulder. Ashen grunts in reply as he wipes the blade down
and sheathes it. “Cyrus, have the others take him to the
dungeon and put the arm on ice in the morgue, under
guard. You stay.”
Cyrus orders the other guards around and Joash is
dragged away. I wait until it’s only the five of us left in the
room to open the bag I brought with me. Under their
curious, watchful gazes, I pull the tourmaline sphere from
the main compartment, shifting its cool weight between my
palms as it starts to hum.
“There was something else. I didn’t want him to know
that I saw. This is what they’re after,” I said, passing the
stone to Ashen.
“What is it?” Cole asks.
“I was hoping one of you would know.”
“Is this the key you were talking about? From the
cavern?” Ashen asks, passing it to Cyrus. He holds it up to
the light and twists it under close inspection, but I already
know there’s no irregularity in the polished black surface.
The only truly odd thing about it is the purr it emits.
“Yeah. At least, that’s what I think it was. It opened a
sort of a doorway on a wall of rings. Any of that sound
familiar to anyone?” I ask with dwindling hope. They all
shake their heads. “On the other side there was a woman in
the distance. I couldn’t really see her, but she spoke to me
for just a moment before the door closed. It wasn’t a
language I know. It sounded almost like Sumerian, but not
quite.”
Ediye takes the stone from Cyrus and tries whispering a
revealing spell over the orb, but nothing happens. She
frowns and looks up at me as the stars recede within her
eyes. “And this is why the Nephilim want you?”
“Seems so. There’s another one too. I saw it in Leander’s
mind when we were at Valentina’s estate, something he
definitely didn’t want me to see. A similar wall but in gold.
It had rings inscribed with the same language but different
words. The key in that one is lapis lazuli. I heard a brief
moment of conversation about a gateway, but no details
about it. All I know for sure is that the Nephilim want the
stones, and I think they believe I can get them both.”
“Well, I guess that makes us one step ahead, even
though we have no clue what this is or what it does,” Cole
says as he takes the sphere from Ediye.
“Is there anyone who would know?” Cyrus asks, his gaze
bouncing between me and Ediye.
“I have one idea,” Ediye replies. “Ammon Hassan. The
old man has seen pretty much everything in his time as an
apothecary. He’s neutral territory, too, so it keeps us from
having to ask that snotty angel friend of yours, Ashen.”
Ashen huffs a breath of a laugh. “Agreed. Let’s keep this
from the anunnaki until we know more about it. Besides,
we need Mr. Hassan’s help anyway.”
“What for?” I ask, my brows drawing together in
confusion. I follow Ashen’s graceful strides as he walks to a
sideboard, pulling a cloth from a stack next to a pitcher of
water. He soaks it before stalking back to clean the lob of
bloody spit from my dress.
“We have an issue. You want to improve the conditions
for the souls here, correct?”
“Yes, of course. I really want to,” I say, glancing over my
shoulder as Ashen swipes methodically at the stain, the
fabric growing damp against my skin.
“Well, the best thing we can do is resurrect them.”
“As Reapers?”
“Essentially,” Ashen replies. He dabs at my dress a
moment longer before his fingers flow down the back of my
bare arm to signal that he’s finished his work. I watch as he
takes his place at my side, the smoke of his wings thinning
as his anger fades now that the stain is clean. “It doesn’t
mean they have to take souls or go back to the Living
Realm to deliver justice. But it would give them a place
here. It would clear their confusion and nightmares. They
would no longer suffer. We just have to ensure we are
adequately prepared with accommodations.”
“I don’t get it, what’s the problem exactly?”
“We need a Resurrectionist. Demons will continue
resurrecting through the Chamber, but to bring a soul
back, you need a stronger conduit. You killed the last one.
It was Imogen.”
I blow out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. I see how that could be
an issue.”
“This is something Mr. Hassan can do?” Cole asks.
Ashen nods. “Yes. We just have to find an appropriate
person to fill the role, but he can facilitate the
transformation.”
“I volunteer. I’ll be the Resurrectionist, if you want,”
Cole says. His boyish features suddenly look a little older
with the weight of his words.
I don’t know much about this place, but I doubt the
responsibility of that role would be a light one. When I shift
my gaze to Ediye, I get the feeling she’s thinking the same
thing. A brief flare of worry flashes in her eyes, but she
shutters it away beneath the pride that also warms her
expression.
A heaviness settles in my heart when I look at Cole
again, knowing how much he’s already sacrificed for the
balance of the realms. “Thank you, Cole. I appreciate it.
Give me a little bit of time to think about it, okay?”
Cole nods with an understanding smile. “Of course.”
“We need to get this done as soon as possible,” Ashen
says as he goes back to the sideboard. He drops the soiled
towel in a basket, then pulls a pen and paper from a
drawer. He writes a note and folds it, then writes a second
and folds that too. His wings rustle beneath the smoke as
his attention is drawn to his letters and they fade away, no
hint of their existence evident on his shirt when the last
sparks disappear. When he returns, he passes the first
piece of paper to Ediye. “Take this to Mr. Hassan, he’ll
know what to do. Get Eryx too, take him with you.”
Ediye’s brows twitch with confusion and she opens her
note. Her eyes widen for just a heartbeat, and she meets
Ashen’s eyes before folding it. “Will do, demon,” she says
with restrained amusement in her voice. She sets the
tourmaline sphere on the table, then takes Cole by the
hand and pulls him along with her, shouting out a ciao on
her way out the door.
“What the—”
“Cyrus,” Ashen interrupts, handing the other note to his
second in command. The man’s stoic expression stays
firmly in place as he opens the folded paper and reads the
instructions. “Pay them whatever amount of money it takes.
Whatever they want. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Cyrus pivots on his heel and exits the room
before I can even toss him a question.
I turn to Ashen, my eyes narrowing as I scrutinize his
unreadable face. The emotions I feel from him tell me
nothing either. There’s only his residual rage and the
determination to execute a plan set in motion. “We have to
buy stuff? Do I have money to buy stuff? How expensive is
this resurrectionist business?”
Ashen smiles as he passes me to place the humming
stone in the bag and toss the strap over his shoulder. He
takes my hand and kisses my knuckles before lacing our
fingers and pulling me toward the door. “Money is not an
issue, but we need a few things from the Living Realm. And
I want them immediately.”
“Shocker. The demanding demon demands stuff.”
Ashen gives me a lascivious grin. “I have it on good
authority that you love my demands.”
“Oh really? Whose authority exactly?”
“Your pussy’s.”
I snort a laugh. “That bitch is such a traitor. You come
around with your sexy, brooding demon ways and your
badass tattoos and that wicked tongue of yours and she just
gives up all my secrets.” Ashen’s grin widens and he pulls
me into his side, wrapping his arm across my shoulder as
we walk. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“You’ll see.”
“What if I don’t like surprises?”
“That would be a pity, my vampire,” Ashen says as he
presses a kiss to my temple. “Because they have only just
begun.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 13

W e drift down the hall where all the other rooms are
now shut, passing a few soldiers as we go. We stop
at the tall ebony doors of what I know is the throne room
from when I passed it with Ediye. Ashen pushes them open
and I enter it for the first time.
“I wanted you to see this space, so you could decide how
to make it yours,” he says as he walks into the massive
room.
Tall, narrow windows look out across the Bay of Souls,
the horizon of the black water veiled under heavy fog. The
vaulted ceilings ascend several stories to slanted skylights,
and the room is filled with gentle light even though they
don’t breach the clouds. In the center of the room is a long,
black marble table surrounded by matching chairs finished
with black velvet upholstery, all facing the dais where a
single throne looks out upon the room, framed by the view
of the anguished sea.
“Well, the room brings the drama,” I say, turning slowly
to take in the tapestries and paintings hanging along the
walls, all in dark colors with pops of red that display many
acts of carnage. I point to the nearest tapestry, which
seems to be one in a group of eight similar works. “Big fans
of impaling, I see.”
 “Yes. I thought you should see what kinds of changes
you’d like to make.”
“Burning the tapestries is a start.”
“Noted,” Ashen says, the smile warming the edges of
those two syllables.
I continue on toward the table, running my finger across
the spotless, glossy surface. “I don’t want the throne on a
dais either,” I say as I look at the chairs, trying to envision
the Council of the Shadow Realm sitting around this
innocuous slab of stone. I imagine Ember here among
them, her expression likely smug and self-important after
sending me to be tortured at the hands of Gallus. Did any of
them pretend to be merciful when they talked about their
sentences against immortals like me? Or had they given up
true justice centuries ago? I guess those are questions only
to be answered by imagination. All I know now is that I
want it to be different. I don’t want to just pretend that
anyone else has a voice, even if I may be the person who
ultimately has to decide which souls to save and which to
take. “When we have a new Council, I want to sit at the
table with them.”
Ashen’s voice is as rich as thick honey warmed in the
sun. “As you wish, vampire.”
I smile to myself as I drift toward the dais, Ashen
trailing behind me like a faithful shadow. I draw closer to
the tall black throne.
“It doesn’t scream ‘mercy’ to me. It more just…
screams,” I say, leaning forward to sniff one of a semi-circle
of little heads adorning an iron skull in the center of the
high backrest. I recoil at the musty scent of the leathery old
skin. I touch it with a tentative finger and it’s surprisingly
sticky. “Eww, Ashen, what the fuck.”
“Yeah… Eshkar had a fascination with shrunken heads
and bodily preservation. You should have seen him when
Body Worlds became a thing. He was giddy. It was the only
time he went to the Living Realm in the last century”
 “That’s a lovely story. And I am not sitting on that
throne, Reaper. Get fucked.”
“You are a surprising creature to me, even now. I find it
odd that you would be bothered by it, all things
considered.”
I level the demon with a dead-eyed glare. He manages to
contain his smile, but it still lights up his eyes.
“I may enjoy killing humans, but I drink their blood to
live, Ashen. I don’t cut their faces off and make them into
upholstery. That’s just so Leatherface, or that dude from
American Horror Story.”
“Oliver Thredson.”
“Right.” I give him the side-eye and he throws his hands
up as if to say it’s not his idea to make skincloth. I turn
back to the fuck-ugly throne and poke one of the little
heads that has a fuzzy tuft of dark hair. “Regardless, I’m
not sitting on a sticky old skin chair with a crown of tiny
heads.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I figured that might be the case.”
Ashen keeps his eyes on me as he whistles for the guards. I
feel his gaze linger on my face, even when I look away to
watch six soldiers wheel in a structure covered in black
velvet cloth. They lift what looks like a very heavy chair
from a pallet on wheels. Ashen’s eyes are still fused to mine
as the soldiers then step away and he whips the cover from
the surprise.
It’s a throne of polished lapis lazuli, the color of the deep
sea. Seams of pyrite shimmer within like shafts of sunlight.
The rolled edges of the arms are capped with scrolling gold
waves in the exact shade of my mark, shaped to look like
the surf caught in a suspended moment in time. And above
the curved waves that cascade from the throne’s high back,
a stone scepter topped with a golden crescent moon
cradling an eight-pointed star, framed by two familiar
words.
Sunu liiktisuma
 May they be bound.
A caged breath escapes my lungs in a thin stream
between my pursed lips.
It’s ornate. It’s opulent. But somehow, it’s still…me.
My fingers flow along a wave that rises at the end of the
armrest to fall down the front of the chair in dripping gold.
“It’s stunning,” I whisper. The heat of Ashen’s gaze warms
my face. I feel his pride ripple beneath my skin.
“I could not really picture my Lu on a throne of fallen
souls,” he says. When I look up, I’m lost for a breath in his
subtle smile. Ashen’s eyes dip to my cheeks and my flesh
heats with a blush. His gaze lands on my lips and stays
there for a long moment before he meets my eyes once
more.
“It’s so beautiful. Thank you, Ashen.”
He doesn’t say anything in reply, just smiles a bit wider
and then gives a little bow of his head.
I test the cushion of crushed gold velvet with my
fingertip. It’s definitely plushy enough to be comfortable for
a few hours at a time. The same gold fabric is stitched
across the backrest.
“What about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“Where will you sit? Where’s your throne?”
“I will stand. Next to you.”
I look from my finger where I’m still pressing into the
fabric and meet Ashen’s watchful gaze with a furrowed
brow.
Ashen stalks closer until he can take my hand away from
the soft velvet. “I will not rise from a chair to meet an
attacker. I’ll already be standing, ready to kill.”
“Well, that’s…bleak. Sweet and reassuring, but bleak.”
Ashen pulls my hand to his lips and places a kiss to my
fingertips. His eyes burn with intensity. His voice is low and
quiet when he speaks. “You and I both know that this is the
Shadow Realm. We need to be ready for anything.”
 We watch one another, unmoving. The reality of his
words is already known to me. He presses another kiss to
my fingers before lowering my hand, but he still holds on.
I shift my attention toward the soldiers that wait in the
shadows for their next instructions. I nod at the one who I
figure ranks highest among them. “Please take the skin
throne and leave me and my…demon…alone.”
I can almost hear Ashen’s eyes rolling. “Husband,” he
says, letting my hand go to press on the mark on my chest.
I grin as I swat his hand away.
“Person of romantic interest.”
“Hus. Band.”
“Booty call. Is that still a thing?”
“Vampire––”
“I’ve got it! I’ve got it. Bae.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Yes, please leave me and my bae. We have work to do.”
The guards give each other a confused glance before
they turn and depart with the sticky skin throne, shutting
the hall doors behind them. I hear four of them stride off
down the hall, the two that remain standing guard outside
the door.
I turn to Ashen as I kick off one shoe and then the next.
He gives me a heated look in reply. I can tell he wants to
argue about this relationship status thing, but he also
doesn’t.
“This is a beautiful throne,” I say, thinking of the sea
surrounding my home long ago on Anthemoessa as I run
my finger along the polished stone. I turn and slowly lower
myself onto the seat, placing my hands onto the curved
ends of the armrests. The heat of Ashen’s gaze hasn’t left
my skin. “How do I look?”
There’s a beat of quiet, and in the silence fills with the
whoosh of blood flooding through Ashen’s heart. “Like a
goddess.”
 A faint smile passes over my lips. I shift my gaze to one
of my hands. “Do you remember the first time you called
me that?”
Ashen prowls closer. He places his palms on my wrists
and traps them against the chair before he leans in close.
“You think I would forget?”
I shake my head as I run a foot up Ashen’s ankle,
drawing my pointed toes in a slow procession up his calf
and past his knee, my gaze not leaving his. Sparks
illuminate his pupils as I hook my leg over the armrest of
the throne.
“Vampire,” Ashen rumbles as one of his hands leaves my
wrist to flow up my thigh. I drape my other leg over the
remaining armrest. My dress dips down, covering my
center that’s already wet and throbbing with need.
“Yes, Reaper?”
Ashen leans closer and takes my earlobe between his
teeth. “What exactly are you up to?” he whispers when he
lets go.
“Seducing you into helping me christen this beautiful
throne, of course,” I reply, my voice breathless as Ashen
kisses my throat. He pulls the neckline of my dress down,
then my bra, taking my breast into his mouth. His tongue
slides across my nipple as he palms the other. He sucks
more of my breast into his mouth and flicks his tongue
across the tight pink nub. When he breaks away to run his
tongue all the way up my chest, he leaves a path of
gooseflesh in his wake. He stops when he reaches my ear.
“You are my Queen,” Ashen whispers, his palm sliding
across my skin to warm my mated mark. He pulls back to
watch me for a long moment. “You always have been, my
Lu. You know I cannot say no to you.”
Ashen has me trapped in his cognac eyes. My skin
ignites with every breath that fans across it. His touch is
like a spell as his hand climbs my neck and curves around
my jaw. He runs his thumb across the edge of my bottom
lip, his gaze still fused to mine. Shallow breaths leave my
parted lips.
“I will kneel before you, my Queen. And I will worship
you.” Crimson flame flares to life in Ashen’s eyes. His
tongue parts my lips as he claims my mouth. His fingers
caress my jaw and I grip the back of his neck, drawing him
closer, pressing his hot kiss to mine. But he breaks away. I
let out a moan of disappointment and desire as he leaves
my lips to carve a line of kisses down my neck.
“I will indulge you,” he promises between little nips at
my neck that make me squirm with delight. He gives one
harder bite in a promise of things to come and then soothes
it with a kiss. And then he pulls away, watching my eyes as
he raises his wrist to my lips. “I will sustain you.”
I close my eyes with a long breath in. I smell that
network of veins, that hot blood as rich as spiced chocolate,
as effervescent as champagne. My fangs drip sweet poison
onto my tongue.
“Take it, vampire,” Ashen coaxes. His voice is luxurious
and warm. It’s a gentle plea as much as a command. I
watch the flame in his pupils brighten as my fangs slide
into the soft skin of his wrist. I take the first long pull of his
blood and Ashen looks as though he can barely contain the
sudden swell of need that I feel from him, rippling like a
wave beneath my skin. I close my eyes and sigh into his
veins as he fills my mouth with his sweetness and heat.
Ashen’s other hand drags up my thigh. His breath is
shallow. I can feel the tension in his chest radiate down his
arm as he tries to contain this sea of desire that threatens
to drown us both. But he keeps it trapped, even though his
heart crashes into his bones and his palm grows hot on my
skin. He pushes my dress up around my waist as he kneels
between my legs.
“I will drink you in,” Ashen says, then places a kiss to my
inner thigh. “I will consume you.” Another kiss, this one
higher up, and then another, and another. He climbs closer
and closer to my center as his grip on my thigh tightens. “I
will devour you.” My breath comes in pants with
anticipation.
Finally, he reaches my cream lace panties. He runs one
finger over the soaked fabric and closes his eyes as he
whispers a swear against my skin. When he looks up at me,
the crimson flame of his pupils is vibrant with sparks. I take
in a long pull of blood, watching as his self-control seems to
crumble away beneath the weight of my gaze.
“Ready yourself, my vampire. Because I will ravage
you.”
Ashen pulls my panties to the side and descends on me
like a starving man. He growls into my pussy before
pushing his tongue inside, circling his thumb over my clit.
I tremble as I grip onto his arm. My legs shudder against
the golden armrests of my throne. I let my mouth free of his
wrist to tilt my head back and pant desperate breaths as he
laps up my arousal and presses against my clit.
“No,” he commands, pushing his wrist against my lips as
his fingers slip inside me. “Drink.”
A shaky exhalation escapes my parted lips as I take his
arm and seal my lips against the wound once more, pulling
in blood. I moan and shiver as the tingling heat slides down
my throat.
“I want to be inside you in every way,” Ashen says, his
voice husky and rough. When he seems sure I won’t let go,
he casts his gaze down to the movement of his hand as
strokes me with his fingers. It’s as though he’s punishing
himself with need, with the hurt of holding back. Every
stroke just builds the crackling intensity of anticipation
until he can’t hold back anymore.
Ashen descends between my thighs to suck on my clit
and swirl his tongue over the swollen bundle of nerves. I
keep my grip on his wrist but squirm as the coiling,
twisting need builds within me. He scrapes my clit between
his teeth and I whimper into his veins. “I love that sound,
vampire. Do it again.”
I stay silent as he strokes his fingers within my pussy.
The silence stretches on and I take another long drink from
Ashen’s wrist. I smile against his skin.
“I said, again,” Ashen orders, and he nips my clit once
more, just a little harder this time. A needy moan passes
my lips, vibrating through his wrist. I sink my fangs a little
deeper into his flesh and draw down a long gulp of blood.
“That’s my vampire. I do love it when you fight my
demands. But I love it even more when you surrender.”
He dives at me again, pumping his fingers and swirling
his tongue, sucking and biting and kissing and humming
praise into my flesh when I let go of his wrist long enough
to say his name like a prayer. I tremble. I drink. I writhe.
And the pleasure rolls and coils through my core. I clench
tight around Ashen’s fingers and come apart as he presses
his tongue to my swollen bundle of nerves, not letting go
until my orgasm has washed through me and left me
panting and boneless on the throne.
My heart feels too swollen for my chest as it surges my
thick, dark blood through my veins. Ashen’s feral need
courses beneath my skin through our bond as he pulls one
of my legs down from the armrest and then the other,
snaking his arm under my knees. In a swift motion, he flips
me over so my forearms land on the cushioned seat of the
throne and my ass is facing him. He keeps one of his arms
beneath my stomach and I hear his dagger slide from its
sheath.
“Can I drink from you, my vampire?”
“I thought you just did,” I tease. Ashen growls and slaps
my ass. I giggle and he does it again, harder this time.
“Salacious creature. Answer me.”
“I am your Queen, Ashen of House Urbigu. My Master of
War.” I pull the dagger from his hand and turn the blade to
my neck, nicking it just deep enough for a steady flow of
blood. “And I demand that you drink from me.”
Ashen goes still behind me. I cast him a dark and wicked
grin over my shoulder, biting my lip between my fangs,
drawing my own blood into my mouth. I love this, this push
and pull of power, of demands and disobedience. I submit
when I want to. I order him around when I feel like it. And
he fucking loves it too. I can see it in the tick of his
clenched jaw, in his dark and desperate gaze. Ashen’s chest
rises and falls, pulling at his shirt with pumping breaths,
his muscles tense with restrained desire.
“Now fuck me, demon.”
There’s a heartbeat of stillness, and then he envelopes
me, sealing his lips to my neck as he releases his belt and
zipper. He pulls my panties to the side and enters me in one
swift stroke as he moans into my skin. My mated mark
warms until I feel every line and curve, every point of the
crescent moon and star.
Blood taps against the gold wave of the armrest. I smell
it fill the channels with crimson drops as Ashen draws his
hand up to mine. He slides in and out and he takes my
wrist, guiding my hand down my body, pulling away from
my neck to kiss the shell of my ear. “Touch yourself,” he
whispers, setting off a shiver down my spine.
I do as he demands. I circle my clit with my fingers as
Ashen pistons into me with long, steady strokes, caressing
the skin that still stings with warmth from his slap. His
thumb traces a line down until it's coated in my arousal,
and then flows back up to the rim of my ass.
“I promised that I would ravage you,” he says as he
teases the tight opening, pressing at the resistance as he
buries his cock into my sex. He slows his pace for a
moment and I know he’s watching his slow strokes, the
movement of his thumb. And then it slips inside my ass. He
picks up long and powerful thrusts as I press my forehead
to my arm as I try not to cry out with aching pleasure.
“Now come for me.”
I let out a naughty giggle and Ashen slams into me hard.
“I already told you, demon. I don’t know how to behave.”
Ashen’s vicious growl vibrates through my back. It’s the
sound of fury. Smoke and sparks cascade around us and
hiss on the floor as he slides an arm beneath my stomach
and lifts me, setting my knees down on the golden cushion
without ever breaking our connection. But even as he
roughly thrusts into me, even as the smoke of his wings
obscures everything but the golden throne, I know I’m safe
with him. I know I’m the only being in any realm who is.
Ashen pushes on my fingers that are already working my
clit as though imploring them to stay there, and then he
plants my other hand onto the edge of the high back of the
chair so that I can grip on.
“That’s right. On your throne where you fucking belong.
And you will do exactly as I say, my Queen.” His tongue
follows the line of blood from the healing wound on my
neck and he sucks on it hard, taking what blood he still
can. When he lets go, his breath fans across my ear as he
whispers his command. “Now come apart into a thousand
pretty pieces.”
Ashen rails into me with thrust after thrust, and I cry
out, loud and uncaring if anyone might hear. The rest of the
realm just doesn’t exist. It’s just my demon and me, and the
gift of this moment, of the things I know are real because I
can feel them. Like my grip on the edge of my throne, my
hand wrapped so tight around the metal that the gold
leaves imprints in my palm. Or the sound of Ashen’s skin
slapping against mine, or the feel of my panties stretched
to the side against my ass, or the smell of sex and ink and
tobacco untouched by flame.
The motion of my hand stutters as pleasure rips through
me and Ashen places his hand over mine, ratcheting up the
intensity of my building orgasm. And then it overflows, like
a torrent breaching a barrier. My walls grip around Ashen
as though trying to pull him deeper and I feel him thicken
and pulse. With a roar he spills into me and I quiver, my
muscles losing strength as my sated desire leaves me
melted on the throne.
We’re both breathing hard and slick with sweat as
Ashen’s strokes slow. His warm palm caresses my ass and
lower back, his other hand still stretching my panties to the
side. He leans back as he slips out of me.
“Such a perfect sight that is,” Ashen says, his voice
rough like gravel. I feel the head of his cock slide to my clit.
He circles it there and I let out a breathless, shuddering
moan. “My cum dripping out of your throbbing pussy…it’s
exquisite.” His finger skirts over my clit in a gentle touch
that still elicits quivering aftershocks in my muscles. He
sweeps up the drizzle of cum and arousal and pushes it
back into my pussy as I bite down on a gasp. “Going to
need that, vampire.”
My nerves flare like broken wires. “You are an obscene,
filthy creature.”
“And you fucking love it.” Ashen’s cock slides back up
toward my slit and dips in before coming out again, this
time continuing up to my ass. He pushes against the tight
opening, pulsing the pressure that tests the pleated rim,
but he doesn’t enter.
“Waiting for a formal invitation?” I ask, pushing back
against his cock on the next pulse. He pulls away before he
breaches the resistance. “Do you want me to write it on
some formal regnal stationery? With a wax seal?”
I press against him again and he moves his cock down,
taking up more of the cum and arousal coating my folds.
“What would it say?” he grits out, sliding his silken tip
back up to my ass.
“It would start something like this. To the Reaper—”
He slaps my ass and I laugh. “Not very formal for a
Queen. You can do better than that.”
 “Dear bae—”
Another slap, harder this time. Pleasure and desire burn
low in my belly.
“To my person of romantic interest—”
A growl, another slap. And this time a bite to my
shoulder.
“That’s more like it,” I whisper, and he slaps my ass
again with the same strength. Delicious heat infuses my
skin and stifle a moan.
“Insolent creature. Do it like a Queen.”
“Dearest Ashen of House Urbigu. My Master of War.”
“Better,” he whispers, pressing the slickened head of his
cock to my clenched rim. His free hand snakes up from my
thigh, his fingers circling around my clit. “Continue.”
“Please join me in christening my beautiful throne by
fucking me in the ass until we come together in a blinding
orgasm. Sincerely, your booty call, Queen Lu.”
Ashen pinches my clit and bites my shoulder and I gasp,
arching my back. His teeth release from my skin to nip at
my earlobe. “Invitation accepted. Sincerely, your husband,
the Master of War.”
With that, he pushes in, his motion so slow and careful,
my entrance gripping around his girth like a vice.
“I’m afraid there must be an imposter afoot,” I say. I try
to keep my voice airy despite the shudder that courses
through my body as I take more and more of his length.
“For I am an unwed maiden, living in sin.”
A growl that’s as much as a purr rumbles against my
neck. “You are a brazen minx for a Queen of the Shadow
Realm.” Ashen’s voice is low and rich in my ear as he
buries himself to the hilt of his sex. His finger swirls over
my clit. “You choose me as your mate and yet deny me as
your husband.”
I chuckle a quiet laugh that turns into a gasp as Ashen
slides all the way out and then pushes back in again. “You
haven’t asked me to be your wife, so therefore there is
nothing to deny. There’s only fact. We’re mates. Not
married.”
“Hmm,” he hums next to my ear before leaning back.
His fingers that hold my panties to the side caress my skin
and I watch him over my shoulder. His gaze is transfixed on
the slow rhythm of his erection pumping in and out of my
tight opening. When he meets my eyes, they burn with dark
flame. “Regardless, you chose me.”
“You’re right, I did,” I say, giving him a dark grin before
I turn my gaze ahead to the gleaming gold and deep, wild
blue of the throne. “Maybe you haven’t chosen me after
all.”
There’s a pause of silence. There’s stillness. I smile.
“What?”
The blood surging in Ashen’s body is the only sound
between us aside from the ragged, shallow breaths caught
in his chest. I cast him an innocent glance over my shoulder
and his eyes burn back at me with fury. I smile when I turn
ahead once more, inspecting my nails as though I have all
the time in the world. “Blood heading back to your brain,
Reaper? It’s okay, I’ll wait.”
Ashen roars with frustration and presses his chest to my
back as he pumps into me, bearing down on my clit with an
urgency that makes my core clench with pleasure and
desire. His hot breath floods across my neck, just below my
ear. “I will fuck you into an abyss of pleasure and then we
will talk.”
“We’re already talking,” I counter, and he lets go of my
panties to slap my ass. I cackle a laugh and he slaps me
again. Ashen seals his lips over the nick on my neck and
sucks as hard as he can until the flow of blood starts back
up. I feel it, our connection like a vibration that ignites
sparks beneath my skin, twisting me in a storm of ecstasy.
Every thrust of his cock and press of his fingers sucks me
under, drowning me in desire until I come apart in a rush of
stars, moaning his name.
 “Come for me again,” Ashen says close to my ear before
leaning back, pumping into my ass as he doesn’t let up with
my clit. I’m covered in sweat, my dress damp with it, our
arousal dripping down my legs. “Do it, my Queen. Come
with me. Come as I fill you.”
Ashen’s fingers press and circle my swollen bundle of
nerves as he pistons in and out of me. The pleasure is
already rising again. It builds and builds until it feels like
I’ve been absorbed by some other dimension, pushed into
some other universe. I’m melting into a need that has me
nearly mindless, my body shuddering as Ashen thrusts into
me, over and over. He repeats his demand until it becomes
a plea, until he leans close to my ear once more, his voice
low and rich. Dark and tempting. Adorations and praise and
encouragement color his words like flowers blooming in the
shadows before me. My Queen. My Lu. My beautiful
goddess. That’s it. Come for me. One more time. I know you
can do it again. That’s it, Lu. Such a perfect Queen. Just a
little more. Let me fill you as you come apart.
My orgasm rips me apart and I cry out, a brutal, heart
wrenching sound of pleasure. It pulls tears from the
corners of my eyes. It crushes the breath in my chest,
shatters my heart into a million shimmering fragments of
light. Ashen spills into me as my muscles tremble and lose
all strength, my hands sliding from the gilt edges of the
throne. I collapse into his iron embrace as his thrusts begin
to slow.
“I’ve got you,” Ashen whispers. He lifts me from the
throne, still pulsing ropes of cum within me as he turns us
toward the Council table. I shudder with the last quaking
aftershocks of my orgasm as he slips out and sets me down
on the table, climbing up to lie beside me, pulling me close
as we both gasp for breath.
My eyes are closed. My slick forehead is pressed to my
forearm as my heart deafens me. There doesn’t seem to be
enough air in the room. I feel too hot and too cold at the
same time, my body still trembling. And my thoughts are
just…everywhere. And nowhere. Both as clear and still as
the mist that gathers over a lake, and as teeming with
movement as the life that lives below the surface.
“You utterly destroy me,” Ashen says, his hand stroking
my hair and flowing down my back.
I don’t answer.
In fact, other than the breath in my lungs and the heart
that rages in my chest and the tremors that quiver in my
muscles, I don’t even move.
Because I’m trapped in an epiphany. One that Ashen has
banged right into me. Or out of me, I’m not sure. Probably
in, all things considered. It makes more sense, doesn’t it,
logistically speaking. But either way, it’s freaking me the
fuck out. Which I know happens a lot here in the Shadow
Realm. And self-realizations cause the worst freak-outs of
all.
Specifically, the realization that my joke was no joke at
all.
My joke about him choosing me.
Oh, trust me. I know this is probably ridiculous. Possibly
insane. I think we’ve firmly established I’m a little
unhinged, so I don’t think anyone is too surprised. I’m
trying to convince myself that it’s just my crazy acting up,
or that it’s just a melodramatic vampirism to be weirded
out about the concept of marriage. Or rather, not marriage.
But it’s not working. Even though I know we’re mated, and
Ashen has done all these incredible things for me that
imply he chose me all along, and even though marriage
might seem like just a formality…I still want it. Maybe
that’s stupid. Maybe it’s unfair to feel annoyed that Ashen
persistently calls me his wife. But I do feel that way.
Actually, I feel oddly…hurt by it.
And now, in the throes of my freak-out about how much
this actually matters to me, and the fears that still burrow
into my chest about choice and loneliness, about history
and secrets, I remember something foreign, but vitally
important.
I can feel him. And he can feel me.
…shit.
“Lu? Oh Christ, Lu…did I hurt you? I will never forgive
myself if I hurt you,” Ashen says, panic rising in his throat
like a vicious tide. His hands are pressing into my sides as
though searching for an injury, though how it would be up
there I don’t know. It’s not like he fucked my rib cage. Ugh,
what a grotesque thought, fucking a skeleton. I shake my
head, as much to clear that weird imagery as to answer
him, but if he’s seen it, he seems too panicked to care,
judging by the way he keeps repeating his question.
“No,” I whisper. I shake my head again.
“Then what is it? Something is wrong.”
I try to suppress a groan as Ashen rolls me to the side so
that I’m facing him. His big, calloused hand sweeps hair
from my face and he looks…terrified. Legit terrified.
He blinks at me.
I take a deep breath, looking away to the throne,
marveling at how beautiful it is in the dim glow of the
forever twilight beyond the windows. I can smell the blood
gathered in the armrest. I try to focus on these things.
Seeable, smellable, touchable things. Real things.
“Lu?..”
I shift my gaze to Ashen, who looks just as troubled as a
moment ago. The brittle smile that fleets across my lips
only makes it worse.
“Nothing. Just…I don’t want…you shouldn’t…” Ugh. I
shake my head. I give a dismissive wave. I try to smile
again, and I think it comes out better this time. Maybe.
Ashen doesn’t look convinced.
I try harder to wrestle my emotions, now that my lungs
aren’t raging and my heart isn’t so deafening. I just need to
think about other things, like the fucking vat of fangria I’m
going to bathe in with a straw as soon as I get out of this
goddamn room. You know, since fangria has worked out so
well for me in the Shadow Realm before. Maybe I’ll just go
right ahead and add a few bottles of Rakomelo in there
while I’m at it. Christ.
Ediye’s sage words come back to me as they always do
when shit is hitting the fan with this demon.
You are so fucked, vampire.
Ashen rolls me onto my back. He hovers over my body,
his weight balanced on his forearms. The scent of ink
comes alive with his heat and sweat as he grazes his
tattooed knuckles down my cheek. And those cognac eyes,
they miss nothing. They burrow beneath my skin. Into my
soul. They parse out the pieces of me, dismantling my
emotions until the kernels of truth are all that’s left
behind.
“You are nervous,” Ashen says as his fingers follow my
pulse. I draw his hand away, but gently, and his eyes
narrow a little.
“This is the Shadow Realm. I’m always nervous.”
“And hurt.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck off.”
Ashen gives me a fleeting smile. “So stubborn.” The
smile evaporates, his scrutiny crystallizing in his eyes. And
then his expression clears, like sunlight has burned away
the mist. “You were serious.”
I scoff. “About what?”
“Choice. Me. Me choosing you.”
I roll my eyes and level him with a glare. “No.”
“Yes. I hurt you.”
Some kind of brick has lodged itself into my throat.
Swallowing does nothing to dislodge it. “No, you didn’t.”
“Liar.”
My nostrils flare with irritation. My eyes brighten with
red light, illuminating Ashen’s skin in a crimson glow.
“When did you become so annoying? I mean, more than
usual.”
“About the same time you became more stubborn than
usual.” The amusement in Ashen’s voice is a thin veil for
his worry. Disappointment, too. In himself, I think.
I feel like I can’t tell him how hung up I am on this
marriage thing, because even though my heart wants it, my
brain still screams that it’s trite. But I can work my way
closer. I can tell him another honest, vulnerable worry that
bears down on me. Its weight is so heavy that it presses
tears to the edges of my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m
doing. I’ve been alone for a really long time, Ashen. My
memory isn’t enough to tell me what I should do. Maybe I
never really knew. And everything is a bit ass-backwards.
We’re mated but it’s not like we’ve ever even been on a
date. Like, going out and doing something fun.”
Ashen gives a reassuring smile that only makes the
cracks in my heart split a little deeper. “Killing werewolves
was fun.”
I roll my eyes. “I mean getting to know one another
when there’s no adrenaline or secrets or battles. Normal
people fun stuff.”
Ashen gives me a flat, doubtful look. “You called
Scrabble with that human detective fun? He was courting
you with board games and a rubber plant.”
“Japanese peace lily.”
“Whatever. My point is, we are not ‘normal people’, we
are immortals.”
“Even immortals fumble through living. And I feel out of
my depth.”
Ashen looks at me for a long moment, shifting one
sweaty strand of hair after another from my skin until all
my face is bare of obstructions. “I do too. But I know you.
Here,” Ashen says, touching my mark.
“I bet here too,” I reply, touching his forehead. “I bet
you looked me up in your haunted library.”
 Ashen shakes his head. I give him a skeptical look. “No,
really. I did not look you up. Aglaope and Molpe, yes. Not
you.”
“I don’t know whether to be envious or bummed. You
wouldn’t old-school, unsocial media stalk me, but you
stalked my sisters? Jeez.”
I smile and Ashen laughs, pressing a kiss to my cooling
forehead. “I didn’t want to know what my realm said about
you. I wanted to know from the source.”
I count the golden flecks in Ashen’s eyes. He shifts to
the side of me and I shimmy closer, his arm folding across
my back as I burrow myself into him until my face is
nestled against his chest, his shirt hot and rich with his
distinctive scent. I run a fingertip across his collarbones,
tracing the ridges and the divot between them.
“You’re kind of great, Ashen of House Urbigu,” I
whisper, and he holds me tighter. “You know, for a person
of romantic interest.”
Strong fingers prod my ribs and I laugh, trying to squirm
away.
“Right, I forgot, a booty call bae.”
He tickles me again, digging his fingers into my sides
and nibbling my neck until I’m a writhing mass of giggles.
And when the onslaught slows, when the laughter fades,
it’s just him, and the love that shines all the brighter
through the cracks in our centuries of darkness.
“From the first moment we met, I chose you, my
vampire,” Ashen whispers to the golden mark that shines
above my heart. “I will always choose you.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 14

W ith Ediye, Cole, and Cyrus all gone on their

missions from Ashen, I have a whole whopping day
and a half to find the first Council representatives outside
of my core group of trusted friends. Not that I’ve actually
asked them to be on the Council yet, which I add to my
growing mental ‘to do’ list. So far, the list includes
everything from figuring out what to do with the hybrids
that are still chilling at Valentina’s estate to finding out
where the hell to get that elusive wax.
The first few interviews go well enough. They’re
Reapers that Ashen says befriended Ediye while I was
M.I.A., all from House Ushzu. From the three candidates, I
pick a woman named Hotaru, who seems both shrewd and
measured. She hasn’t given much thought to the souls that
are here, but she’s interested in a fairer justice system for
the immortals in the Living Realm. Plus, she killed the next
candidate who was about to walk in as they passed one
another at the door, which was pretty badass. Apparently,
he was a real dick to her last week at Bit Akalum. Yep,
Hotaru will definitely fit in.
My interview process was a little clumsy with the first
few interviewees after Ashen’s recommendations, but I’ve
got my system fine-tuned now. I ask a bunch of questions,
then slap a hand to the candidate’s forehead to see if
they’re lying and find any other good tidbits. And there has
been some gossip, let me tell you. Lots of feuds that go
back for decades, more than a few protection scams in the
Living Realm, and even several secret babies, mostly with
humans. A dude named Maru from House Urbigu is in some
kind of polyamorous situation with the sweet singer Tessa,
two vampire brothers and a warlock. I like Tessa ten times
more now. Maru is definitely in. Not because of the whole
Tessa thing, but because he’s honest and he’s one of the
few Reapers I’ve met who cares about what happens next
to the wayward souls. And, you know, why choose. Double
win.
But the Reapers of House Mushussu?
Fuck. It’s rough going.
House Mushussu specializes in reaping vampires, I’ve
come to learn. And most of them are not so fond of being
led by one.
Demon after demon, they fail the interview, some
tanking in spectacular fashion. Truthfully, I get it. Not only
are they pissed about Hakan, but the rumors about Joash
and his severed arm have already swept through the House
like a building fire. They’re pissed. Most of them can’t even
hide it long enough to get through the questions. More
than a few fall on Ashen’s blade.
I’ve been at it for six solid hours, and the latest
condescending, crusty bitch I’m currently interviewing has
really set my fangs on edge. I manage to make it through
her questions, then slap a hand to her forehead, sending
her mind into a dark room without even bothering to find
out if she was answering them honestly.
“Zida,” I say to the snake curled behind my throne. She
lifts her head and looks from me to the demon sitting in the
chair.
The woman can still hear me. Her arms dart out, trying
to feel her way in a darkness that only lives in her
imagination. “What? Wait, no—”
 “Have a snack,” I say wearily before turning back to my
throne. The giant snake slides toward the scrambling
Reaper, hissing as she rises on her muscular body. The
woman begs with a series of no-no-nos until Zida strikes
her in the shoulder with her fangs and draws the demon
into the grip of her shifting white coils. I close my eyes and
rub my temples to the sounds of muffled screams and
popping bones. “I did not like her snotty attitude. At all.”
“I can see that,” Ashen replies. “Perhaps a bit of a
strong reaction for condescension.”
“Maybe she’ll learn to be a little more polite when she
gets back from the Resurrection Chamber.”
Ashen huffs a laugh as he pushes a blood bag into my
hand. “Well…that’s not going to happen. Not when Zida
eats them, vampire.”
“Oh…” I say, glancing over at the snake. I swear she
gulps the demon down faster than necessary, just in case I
change my mind. I just give a half-hearted shrug instead.
“My bad.”
I make another mental note, the Fourth Rule of the
Shadow Realm: be more careful who you feed to the snake.
Ashen and I stare at one another for a long moment
before he sweeps his fingers down my forearm in a gentle
caress. I catch his hand and bring it to my face, leaning
against it like a pillow. “Though your dedication to the
interviews for the new Council is admirable, you should
probably break for a while,” he says.
“Says the man who's been standing for six hours.”
“I’m fine, vampire. Besides, Imani is bringing food.”
I purse my lips and let out a stream of a sigh, too tired to
even think about everything on my list or what the fuck I’ve
done with my life. I’m the one who chose mercy over
matches, after all. Like a dumbass. “I don’t know about
dedication. I just know I have a shitload of work to do to
even learn about this place so it doesn’t fall apart at the
leaderless seams. I need a trustworthy Council to help me
transition into this role and I need them yesterday.”
“Yes, but if you exhaust yourself, you will only hinder
your progress.”
We’re staring at one another as though on the cusp of
arguing when Imani drifts into the room, flanked by one
server carrying a covered platter and another with a bottle
of wine. Imani is the picture of power and opulence, from
her sleek patent heels to the effortless gesture of her hand
as she ushers her servers toward the table. Her dark skin
glows beneath a mass of black curls. A sparkling crimson
dress shimmers across her curves, necklaces cascading
down her neck like a waterfall, disappearing between her
cleavage.
“Queen Leucosia,” she says with a smile in her smooth
voice. It’s as rich as salted caramel. I want to melt right
into it. Plus, she’s currently slaying it with Rule Two of the
Shadow Realm: pay more attention to who carries what.
Imani carries a thermos and I can already smell the
contents. It’s spiced hot chocolate with blood. And brandy,
even better.
“It’s good to see you again,” I say, sitting a little
straighter. I want to thank her for what she did that first
day in the Kur by shifting the atmosphere in the room to my
favor. I wish I could tell her to just call me Lu, but I know
the power of a name. I know what happens if you give it
away too quickly to people you don’t know.
“I am so pleased to see that you have recovered from
your recent ordeals,” Imani replies as she pours the thick
chocolate into a glass mug. “How is the search for the new
Council going?”
“We have a few good people lined up. I’m hitting a bit of
a wall now though.” I take the mug from Imani and motion
for her to sit. Ashen takes a seat at the table where the
servers set a place for him with what looks like a slab of
rare venison, vegetables, and a basket of rolls with way too
much butter. He glares over his shoulder as though he can
read my thoughts and I grin before turning my attention
back to our guest. “Which House are you in, Imani?”
“None. Not anymore,” she replies, smiling at the
contented sigh I give when I take my first sip. The rich,
boozy dark chocolate is spiced with a touch of chili and the
tingling sweetness of Ashen’s blood. “I was once aligned
with House Ushzu, long ago, before I took over Bit
Akalum.”
“Do you have any recommendations for Reapers I should
talk to from House Mushussu?”
Imani looks up toward the ceiling as she considers this
for a brief moment. “Likely your best option is Bridget.”
My gaze flicks to Zida, who is currently digesting
Bridget. I gulp down the rest of my hot chocolate even
though it’s still way too hot. “I’m afraid that will be a
nonstarter.”
“I see,” Imani replies with a knowing smile as she leans
forward and tops up my mug. “You can hear the souls, can
you not? Or communicate with them somehow?”
Word gets around fast in the Shadow Realm restaurant
industry. “Yes, I can.”
“If you had a Resurrectionist, you could choose a soul to
be assigned there. One you feel you could work with. Not a
vampire soul, but perhaps a witch or even an apothecary if
you can find one, though there are so few that have slipped
through the protection of their Guild and wound up here.
Someone either neutral or who would fit well with the
others already in that House. Even a werewolf, if you can
find one you feel you could also work with.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say as I consider the steps. The
Resurrectionist issue should be sorted out soon. It would
take a while to find the right soul, but it would be safer
than what I’ve got to pick from now. “Thank you for that
suggestion.”
 “You are welcome, my Queen,” Imani replies with a
shallow bow of her head. We assess one another for a
moment before she starts to rise from her chair. “I should
go, and let you have your time in peace.”
“Wait, please.” My eyes rest on hers as I listen to her
pulse and the steady stream of air that fills and leaves her
lungs. I draw in a deep breath and take in her scent.
Jasmine. Orange. Oil on a hot cast iron pan. Pepper from
the kitchen. “Would you be on the Council?”
Imani sits back in her chair. She looks at me as though
trying to discern if I’m worthy of her commitment.
“Representing which House?”
“All. I’d like you to speak for the best interests of the
Reapers who are already here as we start to resurrect
souls. The newcomers will need places to live. You know
best where they would fit, and where they wouldn’t.”
Imani tilts her head, her rich brown eyes raking over
every inch of my face. “This could put pressure on my
establishment if disagreements occur.”
“Something makes me think you can handle it.”
I take in every detail that comes from this formidable
Reaper’s body, though nothing changes. Her pulse doesn’t
hammer with anticipation of coming close to something she
wants. The smell of adrenaline doesn’t enliven her scent.
She just watches me back, probably weighing the pros and
cons and the most diplomatic way to let me down, if that’s
what she decides.
“I am honored. I accept,” she finally says with a demure
bow of her head. I rise, lifting my hand to touch her
forehead so I can see her thoughts, but she holds up a palm
to stop me. “I can’t allow you. Too many have entrusted me
with their secrets, not just here but in the other realms. It
would endanger them.”
I let my hand drop back to my side. “And it would risk
the favors you’re owed.”
Imani’s smile comes to life. “Correct.”
 “Lu can spellcast,” Ashen says, washing down a
mouthful of venison as his eyes burn into Imani. “She can
create a blood bond between you. That way you keep both
your secrets and your promises to your Queen.”
“Ashen,” Imani purrs, tacking on a chastising tsk. Her
smile brightens with a sly curve at one edge. “You and I
both know that I have the connections to not only leave this
realm despite your travel ban, but to break any spell she
could cast. Our Queen is going to have to trust me if we are
to work together.”
Ashen’s expression darkens as his gaze slides to mine.
His anxiety tingles through my skin, my own following it
like an echo. I look to Imani once more as her smile fades
to something gentler.
“All right. I won’t look into your mind. But I do have one
question,” I say, continuing to test her body’s reactions
with every breath I take. “Why did you help Ashen when he
made arrangements to free me from the dungeons?”
Imani takes no time to think about her answer. “Because
I see myself in you.”
“I don’t hear that often, and when I do, the person is
usually batshit crazy,” I reply, a little disheartened.
Imani lets out a vibrant laugh that reminds me of
windchimes warmed by the summer sun. Ashen smirks over
the edge of his wine glass. “That is not what I meant,” she
says, leaning forward a little as the amusement dims in her
eyes. What’s left behind looks like appreciation, maybe
even a bit of affection. “I have had to fight for myself here
too. I had to prove my worth when I elected to take on Bit
Akalum. I backed down from no one. I showed the Shadow
Realm my power, and that night you came to Bit Akalum, I
watched you at the table doing exactly what I would have
done. I saw how you refused to capitulate to Ember. You
fought your corner without using your voice. And then you
went out onto the dancefloor and showed the room how
much power you held. Even not knowing who you truly
were at the time, I saw a woman like me. One who would
refuse to acquiesce. You did not deserve to be stolen away
into that dungeon.” Imani settles back a little in her seat
and lifts a shoulder. “Plus, it was obvious your Reaper was
madly in love with you, and I am fond of him.”
Ashen coughs his wine into his napkin as Imani gives me
a wink. I swallow down a laugh that begs to crawl from my
throat. “Good enough for me. Thank you, Imani. I look
forward to working together.”
Imani rises from her chair, taking the empty thermos
with her. “Good night, Queen Leucosia. Ashen.” Imani nods
to us both and turns toward the door. I take a deep breath
when she passes the threshold with her servers in her
wake, feeling a bit lighter with that decision made, even
though I know it will continue to challenge my trust.
“Nervous?” Ashen asks as he sits back in his chair, his
eyes drifting down to where my mark peeks out from the
neckline of my shirt. “You can always change your mind if
you want.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, it’s that too,” I hedge, chewing
my lip as I watch Zida drift away to rest in a far corner of
the room. “It’s actually Cole.”
Ashen’s eyes snap to mine and darken. “What about
him? Did you find something in the interviews?”
“No, not at all. Nothing like that,” I say, a crease of
confusion appearing between Ashen’s brows. “I don’t want
him to be the Resurrectionist.”
Ashen’s confusion deepens as his gaze sweeps across my
face. “Okay…”
“I want him as my lead advisor. He’s the kind of person
who can distill all this stuff and teach me about this place
and the Realm of Light. Plus, he knows the Living Realm
well enough. He’s the only other person like me who spans
all three.”
“What about Ediye?”
 “I want her with me too, for sure. But she’s in the same
boat as me. Lots to learn. There’s so much we both don’t
know.”
Ashen runs his thumb across the base of his wine glass
as he thinks about this. “Makes sense. He would be good in
the role. But if that is the case, who do you want as the
Resurrectionist?”
We eye one another and I can almost see the suspicion
folding into his eyes, dimming the brightness of the gold
flakes. I take a deep breath in, trapping it behind my ribs.
“Davina.”
Ashen goes completely still. On the outside, it’s as
though he’s hardened into stone. But I hear his heart
stutter. I feel the tempo of his lungs change. “Lu—”
“Hear me out, Ashen. She was a reaped soul for a long,
long time. She knows what they’re going through, and she
knows how hard it is to adjust to a new life after
resurrection. I know what Davina did to you caused you
immeasurable grief. She knows it too. I’m not asking you to
forgive her. I’m just asking you to make space for her.”
Ashen says nothing as I rise and walk toward him, but I
see the tension bleed from his shoulders as I draw near. He
shifts his leg and I sit on his lap, taking his face in my
hands. The swirl of his emotion warms the gold in my
chest. It’s grief and admiration, anger and understanding. I
give him a faint smile as I stroke my thumb across his
cheek.
“You want me to heal this place,” I whisper. “Maybe this
is how we do it. By making space for one another.”
Ashen sighs. There’s so much sorrow in him still, and a
history that’s full of the dark power that rage and regret
can exert over a life, if you let them. He’ll never be rid of
his shadows, but I know he doesn’t want to be bound by
them either. If he did, he wouldn’t try to calm the flare of
light that rings his eyes, or the smoke that flows down from
his shoulders. But the light does dim, and the smoke does
fade away.
Ashen looks at me as though he can see every sparking
nerve and shifting cell behind my eyes. “I hope the next
time you look in the mirror, you see what I do.”
“And what do you see, exactly?”
“The true Queen of the Reapers. The leader that this
realm always deserved.”
I smile and pull Ashen toward me, kissing him deeply.
It’s not just wine I taste on his lips, but pride, and truth,
and love. And I realize that maybe destiny isn’t some grand,
sweeping event that cracks you apart and molds you into
something new. Maybe it’s making the best choices you
can, and ending up somewhere you didn’t expect, and still
embracing the future you want to see.
Destiny isn’t given. It’s earned. And if this is mine, I
intend to deserve it.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 15

“V ampire.”
“No.”
“Wake up.”
“Go away.”
“Time…to…get…up…” Ashen says between kisses across
my neck, the thump, thump, thump of Urtur’s tail adding to
the persistent universe that seems determined to force me
into consciousness when I’d rather be asleep.
“What is it with you and waking me up?” I grumble,
pulling the pillow over my head. I let out a muffled groan.
“What time is it?”
“Four A.M.”
“Four?” I parrot in an incredulous shriek as I flail to
whack Ashen in the dark. “Are you fucking serious? No.
Hard no. What is wrong with you?”
“It’s going to be a long day and we need to get going.”
The amount of amusement in his voice is frankly obscene,
and the fucker has the audacity to laugh when he whips the
sheets off before I can cocoon myself in them. I curl into a
mewling, naked ball as I feel his weight shift off the bed.
“Let’s go, vampire. We don’t have much time.”
I draw all the pillows over me as Ashen pads away to a
set of French doors that lead to a garden, opening them
wide to let Urtur bound away into the underworld. There
are dresser drawers that slide open and shut, the rustling
of clothes shifting over skin, the near silence of buttons
threading through holes. A moment later, the bed dips
again and Ashen’s there with all his Reaper strength and
demonic persistence, wrenching the pillows out of my
grasp one by one.
“You are a sadist,” I snarl as I curl my legs around the
last pillow in a futile effort to hang on.
“And you are a stubborn creature,” Ashen says as he
jams his fingers into my ticklish ribs, forcing me to loosen
my grip just enough that he can rip the pillow away from
me. I hiss and chomp at the air with my fangs, narrowly
missing his fingers. “A feisty, stubborn creature. Come on,
the corridor in Bran is quite a drive from Valentina’s and it
might take some time to wrangle the hybrids once we get
there. Full day ahead.”
Ashen climbs off the bed as I let out a long, weary sigh
of defeat. “Fine. But your chipper attitude this early in the
morning is annoying as fuck.”
The Reaper tosses me a dark smile over his shoulder as
he strides toward the door, a bag in hand. He’s enjoying
this way too much. “I will be in the kitchen. Clothes are on
the bed.”
Ashen’s footsteps drift away down the hall and I squish
my sleepy, sore eyes with the heels of my palms, letting out
an inelegant yawn. At the foot of the bed is a folded pair of
jeans and a white button-up shirt, a set of cream lace
underwear next to it. A beautiful, camel-colored cashmere
coat is draped across the edge of the mattress. I slide to
the end of the bed and run my fingers along the soft hem of
the jacket, wondering how Ashen ever found time to get all
these clothes in colors he knew I’d like, especially when
I’ve only ever seen Reapers in dark shades. Chipper
morning attitude aside, he’s doting and sweet and
thoughtful, and I get dressed without another grumble,
eager to get to the kitchen.
 When I arrive, Ashen has already started brewing the
coffee, pitchers of cream and blood and two black thermal
mugs waiting on the counter. He finishes his butter-
lathered toast as it brews, and before long we’re making
our respective drinks and heading out the door toward
House Ushzu, which he says is the nearest building with a
portal to Bran.
“You seem nervous,” Ashen says, his voice echoing
through the vaulted foyer of House Ushzu, the unfamiliar
black stone shimmering with veins of a mysterious blue
crystal that climb the columns lining the vestibule like
vines.
“I am. I’m nervous about Imani and Cyrus looking after
the place while we’re gone. I’m nervous the hybrids will try
to chomp on you. I’m nervous the werewolves will want a
round three throw-down, or that the Nephilim will find a
way in while we’re gone,” I say as we approach the third
cauldron in a row of seven, the only one not shut with a
heavy lid. “And I’m still not super into these Fire Corridors
of Terror either.”
Ashen squeezes my hand as he takes a torch from one of
the guards and throws it into the cauldron, lighting the
black stones. A shiver of dread slithers down my spine,
even knowing it won’t hurt. “Imani and Cyrus will be fine.
The hybrids and werewolves have been behaving
themselves so far. There’s no reason to believe they’ll
change course now. All the corridors are guarded. And the
Fire Corridor of Terror will be worth the passage through
flame.”
“I don’t know about that, Ashen. The last time we
portalled together to Romania and drove through the
countryside, your sister tried to kill us.”
“Actually,” he says, pulling me into an embrace as the
flames start climbing our calves, “the last time we portalled
to Romania was from the Realm of Light, and that same
night you mated with me. So, I think it worked out well.”
 “Until an army of werewolves and hybrids tried to kill
us,” I grumble into his chest. I wrap my arms across his
back and the flames rise around us. “But yeah. It did work
out well.”
The pressure builds in my head as the flames lap their
sulfurous caress at our faces, reaching toward the ceiling. I
hold my breath. I press my eyes closed. A roaring rush fills
my skull. And then the flames fall with a whoosh, smoke
filling the cauldron and cascading into the unfamiliar
room.
The cellar is thick with humidity that coats the stone
walls in a film of moisture and musk. There are a few empty
crates stacked in a corner, the iron lid of the cauldron lying
next to them, covered in a film of dust. At the side of the
room is a stairway, and Ashen leads us toward it.
The main floor of the house is not what I expect. There
are white plaster walls and dark wood trim, Persian rugs in
shades of bright red and deep blue covering one another
across the floor. It’s not a very Romanian style, but it’s
opulent in its simplicity in a way that only fine
craftsmanship and carefully curated art can convey. But we
don’t linger to take in the details, heading straight for the
door that Ashen pulls open to let me pass through.
“What the fuck?”
Ashen’s amusement tickles beneath the gold on my
chest as I take in the garden and green foliage. The sky is
still dark, but the faintest trace of dawn is bleeding in on
the horizon, coloring it in hues of rich blue. I smell carob
and fig trees. Limestone dust. Olives. Baking bread. The air
is crisp, but not the biting cold of the early taste of winter
that we’d left in Romania only a few weeks ago.
“We’re not in Bran,” I say.
“Are we not? Hmm. My mistake.” I turn and look up at
Ashen through narrowed eyes. He gives me the hint of a
devious smile as he takes my arm and pulls me toward a
black sedan where a driver awaits. “Come on, vampire.
We’ve got places to be.”
The driver pops the trunk as we draw close, and Ashen
opens my door before placing the bag inside. Once we’re
settled, the car pulls away into the empty street and I look
around in confusion at the houses we pass.
“Where the hell are we? Are you kidnapping me?”
“Something like that.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, I did. You asked if I was kidnapping you. I said—”
“I meant the other question.”
Ashen shrugs. “I thought that was obvious. We’re in the
Living Realm,” he replies, settling back in his seat as
though this is all quite entertaining. I stare at him for a
moment and he has the audacity to ignore me, only giving
another shrug when I whack him on the arm.
I watch out the window, trying to find anything that
looks familiar.
And then I see a sign.
“Pamukkale?” I say, my head swiveling between the
passing sign and Ashen.
“Hmm?”
“You brought us to Pamukkale?”
“I did?”
“We’re in Turkey?”
“We are?”
“Oh my God.” I don’t know whether to be annoyed or
excited or nervous or delighted. I land on everything, all at
once. I give a little laugh of disbelief and watch out the
window as the village slips by.
Before long, we pull into the driveway of a large hotel
with sweeping, curved walls and steaming outdoor pools. A
sign for the Doğa Thermal Health and Spa passes my
window. I want to ask Ashen a thousand questions, but I
know I’ll only get more in return, and judging by the self-
satisfied look on the demon’s face, he would very much like
to continue that game.
We check in at the front desk and head up to the King
Suite, a sprawling chamber with an enormous bathroom
and its own private sauna. There’s a bottle of wine and a
bowl of strawberries waiting on a glass table. I sweep my
hand along the sheets of the immaculate bed. Not as great
as Ashen’s sex sheets, but still pretty awesome. I drift back
into the living room toward a set of doors and open them,
stepping out onto the balcony that looks toward the
mountains and the brightening sky.
“Vampire. We have to go. Clothes are on the bed.”
Ashen disappears into the bathroom as I turn from the
view and head back into the bedroom, staring down at a
midnight blue bikini and a gauzy white shirt, flowy linen
pants and a knit cardigan. “What the fuck,” I whisper to
myself with a little laugh of disbelief. I strip my clothes off
and change, and Ashen sweeps up my hand as he passes
from the bathroom, leading us toward the door.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Do you always ask this many questions?” he asks as he
presses the button for the elevator.
“Do you always answer my questions with questions?”
Ashen says nothing but gives a little smirk, and pulls me
into the elevator without another word.
Before long we’re back in the sedan, which I now realize
is driven by a Shub Lugal soldier from the Shadow Realm,
who speeds us toward the Pamukkale Thermal Pools. It’s
not yet the opening time when we pull up to the entrance,
but a guard is waiting to let us into the hot springs
nonetheless. We take off our shoes and start the climb
toward the travertine springs.
We fall into a comfortable silence as I take in the
expanse of pools that stretch before us, the milky blue
water reflecting the sky that’s beginning to lighten with
shades of yellow and orange. Steam shifts in plumes over
the still surface of the layered pools. They drop, one to the
next, like a staircase to some ancient gods of the mountain.
The limestone travertine forms curving borders around
each stacked, terrace spring. The layers and layers of pools
laid out before us seem to beckon me in. I want to try every
one, but no sooner have we stopped in the first to roll our
hems up from our ankles than Ashen is pulling us along
through the warm water with some objective clearly in
mind.
Just as I’m starting to think we’ll never find a pool
worthy of Ashen’s discriminating demon tastes, he finally
declares we have reached our destination. It’s the widest,
longest of the basins we’ve encountered so far. We stop at
the edge and I take off my clothes, setting them on a dry
patch of stone when I’m done. Ashen places his on mine
and I nearly choke on my own spit.
“What?” he asks, confusion thick in his voice as I cough.
It’s impossible to look hot in a bikini when you hack up a
lung, by the way, but I still make a valiant effort.
“It’s just…I mean…I’ve seen you naked—”
“Obviously—”
“And I’ve seen you with tailored suits, and armor, and
then those snakeskin wings, I mean those are really fucking
hot. Seriously. I like the wings. But why,” I say, my voice
almost pained as I wave my hand in his direction and try
not to cough. “Why is it you look even hotter in swim
trunks? Your audacity knows no bounds, Ashen.”
And oh my God, no sooner do the words leave my mouth
than the demon blushes. Impossibly, he’s even sexier than
he was just two second ago. I cross my arms beneath my
boobs and cock a hip and give him a chastising arch of my
brow like this is a problem. Frankly, it is. Those low-slung
black swim trunks with their subtle diamond pattern in thin
lines of charcoal gray, the expanse of muscle and radiant
skin and lines upon lines of black tattoos, they are a
problem. A big problem. Because I’m about ready to jump
him in what will shortly be a public location full of off-
season human tourists looking to make the most of this
instagrammable location.
To add to said problem, a sly smile spreads across
Ashen’s face as he stalks closer. But despite the ravenous
look on his face, the demon doesn’t eat me alive. Instead,
he pries my hand away from my chest and backs into the
pool, pulling me in with him. The water gets as deep as my
waist and then we lower ourselves to our necks, drifting to
the curling edge of travertine to look out across the hills
and the valley and the brightening dawn.
“Have you been here before?” Ashen asks as his warmth
wraps around me from behind. I rest my chin on my folded
arms at the edge of the white limestone, watching as the
sun’s first rays break the horizon.
“No,” I answer, closing my eyes for a moment as he
places a kiss to my shoulder. “I was close. I was in Ankara
but ended up going East instead. You?”
Ashen’s breath summons a flush of goosebumps across
my neck as he nods. “Yes. A couple of decades ago. I came
to reap a werewolf who was hiding north, in Kizildere.
Once it was done, I walked around a little before I went
back.”
“Did you go into the pools?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Ashen takes a long moment to answer. His left hand
slides over my arm, climbing toward my wrist until his
fingers meet mine, lacing between them. He draws our
joined hands up to point toward the valley. Hot air balloons
rise from the fields. They float up toward the travertine
pools, roaring gusts of burning gas to keep their colors in
the sky. Ashen folds our joined hands beneath the surface
of the water until I’m enveloped in his strength. “I guess it
just wasn’t the right time,” he whispers, and seals his
words with a kiss.
 We stay in the warm water, watching the hot air balloons
as the sun comes up. We talk about our long histories and
all the places we’ve been, all the times we nearly met but
didn’t, the lives we took or saved. After a while, the tourists
start filtering through the nearby pools, though no one
comes too close. It’s as though they sense the darkness in
Ashen, some kind of aura he naturally exudes when he’s
not trying to cover it. Unlike the immortals who know why
they should be wary, the humans must keep away based on
instinct. But it doesn’t seem to bother him. It’s as though
they could be in a different realm, just illusions of the
landscape. All Ashen’s focus is on me, on the things I say or
the way I laugh or the expressions I make as he shares his
secrets, his fingers drawing endless, shifting patterns
across my skin as we talk.
So many times I’ve tried to imagine we weren’t meant to
be enemies, even when we were. I wanted to forget we
were a vampire and a demon, hunter and prey. I wished we
were just a man and a woman, trying to come to terms with
one another. Probably ourselves too. Now, suddenly, I
realize how precious this moment is. Because I’m not
trying. That’s all we are.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 16

S ooner than I’d like, Ashen declares that it’s time to

move on, and we leave the pools and walk down the
trail to where the driver waits at the gates. This is when
Ashen announces he’s taking me to ‘lunch’, which is at a
small coven just beyond the village. When we arrive at the
unassuming house, the witches greet us with predictable
wariness toward the Reaper, but they’re welcoming
enough, leading us to the dining room where a human man
is bound to a chair. His mind is clearly addled by some
spell, so I don’t need to try using my voice to subdue him.
Honestly, after the failed attempt in Ravello, I’m still afraid
to even try, so though this goes against my predatory
nature to hunt and kill, I’m frankly relieved. The coven
leader also assures me he’s a douchebag, as per strict
criteria from the Reaper, who sits down at the table with a
glass of wine and a newspaper as I sink my teeth into the
human and bleed him dry.
We don’t linger with the coven, which Ashen and the
witches seem mutually happy about. Our driver takes us
back to the hotel where I’m deposited not at our room but
in the spa. “Clothes will be on the bed, vampire. The driver
will pick you up at four in front of the lobby,” Ashen says as
he leaves me at the spa reception desk with a woman
named Pinar, who will be my personal wellness director,
apparently.
“But where are you—” I don’t have a chance to even
finish my sentence before the glass door is sliding shut
behind Ashen. He casts me a wicked smile over his
shoulder and then disappears around the corner, taking any
hint of his emotions with him, my mark eerily still after a
fleeting wisp of his self-satisfied amusement. “What the
hell…” I whisper.
“Something wrong?” Pinar asks in a warm Turkish
accent as she hands me a fluffy white robe and slippers.
“Just…a strange date.”
“Have you been dating long?”
“Not really?.. It’s complicated. This is technically our
first date.”
“Ahh. First dates are usually the strangest,” Pinar says,
nodding her head as she slips an arm around my shoulders
and guides me toward the spa rooms. “Is there anything in
particular you’d like to do at the spa today? A massage,
perhaps? Facial?”
“Wax,” I declare. “Definitely a wax. Full Brazilian.
Please.”
Pinar lets out a gentle laugh. “So, not a bad first date.
Just a strange one.”
Pinar pushes me into a change room and the pampering
begins. When every pube has been ripped out, every
muscle tenderized, every pore slicked with luxurious
lotions, I make my way back to the suite.
As promised, there are clothes on the bed next to my
makeup bag and a sparkling clutch. No bra, just a lacy
cream-colored thong. Sneaky Reaper. Not that I could wear
a bra with the dress I raise from the bed, with its neckline
that cuts to the navel and the even lower, plunging back.
It’s blush white with a spattering of tiny gold crystals that
cascade down the bust to disappear among the flowing
layers of the floor-length skirt. There’s a pair of simple but
elegant sandals to go with it, and a note in a careful script
honed over centuries of time. Four o’clock, vampire. I’ll be
waiting. ~A.
I press the note to the mark on my chest. It warms
beneath my palm as I reach to this invisible thread that
somehow connects us. I feel Ashen’s presence, the whisper
of his emotions. Anticipation is there. Longing. But he
manages to keep his feelings calm so that they’re nothing
more than a gentle breeze between us. Or maybe the storm
of my confusion and excitement and anxiety just drowns
them out.
I sit at the vanity and pull my hair from my face to fall
down my back in chocolate waves. I put on my makeup and
then my dress and shoes, placing my lipstick and the key to
the Shadow Realm corridors in my bag. When I stand in
front of the gilt-edged mirror, I almost don’t recognize the
woman looking back at me. The difference isn’t in the
green hues of my hazel eyes. It’s not in my olive skin, or the
angles of my cheekbones, or the set of my lips. It’s in my
essence. My expression. The minute details that are hard to
define. It’s a peace. A confidence. Like some element had
been missing, mined from me with every year of loneliness
that had passed. It was something I’d let go of in exchange
for survival. And now, the more choices I claim as mine, the
more I allow myself to have and to feel, the more it comes
back to me. I’m finding my way back to the woman I once
was. Maybe even better than before.
I give myself one final glance and leave the suite,
heading straight out the lobby where the car is waiting.
When I slip inside, the driver passes me a note with a map
of the path I’m supposed to take once we arrive back at the
Thermal Pools, the only destination an ‘A’ and nothing
more. When we stop at the entrance to the park, I follow
the instructions, passing the hot springs along a wooden
bridge and then taking the winding limestone path that
leads to the ancient city of Hierapolis.
 Partway down the road, there’s a barrier with two
guards, the words İnşaat nedeniyle kapalı written across
the scratched yellow plastic. Closed for construction. But
as soon as the guards see me, they pull the barrier back
and let me pass.
With every step I take along the road, my heart drums at
my ribs. Excitement slithers around my bones. It’s been a
damn long time since anyone’s gone to these lengths to
make a mystery for me. Maybe ever. Somehow, Ashen just
knows exactly what I like. It’s in every detail, whether it’s
something tiny or a grand yet intimate choice. It’s in the
color of a dress. It’s the way he understands the restorative
power of water for a woman whose immortal life began in
the sea. It’s how he knows that I can never forget a
moment of my life, and now he’s helping me to make new
memories in spaces that remind me of the ancient past.
I take a curve in the road and he’s there, standing on the
path.
I stop and we look at one another for a long moment.
Ashen seems perfectly at ease with his hands in the pockets
of another beautiful black suit, the precise stitching
tailored to his height and his broad shoulders and narrow
waist. The wings of the tattooed bird on the side of his neck
peek from his collar and I sense his pulse beneath them,
just a touch faster than normal. His short dark hair falls
over his brow, his eyes leaving mine to flow down to the
scepter visible on my chest, then lower, all the way down to
the hem that grazes the white limestone road, and back up
again.
“All right, vampire?” he asks with a faint smile. The light
in his eyes holds more gravity for me than the sun.
“Better now.” I didn’t expect to say that. Neither did
Ashen, and he likes it, judging by the way his smile widens.
I swallow, feeling a little thrown from myself. “You look
cocky as sin,” I say, trying to slip my broken mask back on
as he saunters over with just a little swagger in the sway of
his steps.
“I might be a bit,” he replies as he stops in front of me
and leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. His scent of mint
and brandy and unlit cigars invades my senses. “I’ve
managed to keep the Queen of the Shadow Realm both
surprised and out of trouble for almost an entire day. That
seems like an accomplishment worth being cocky about.”
I take Ashen’s offered arm and we start toward a fork in
the road. “The day’s not over yet, Reaper.”
We walk in silence to a gap between two limestone
barriers. The Roman amphitheater of Hierapolis stretches
before us, rows of curving seats stepping down toward the
stage, the rebuilt columns and statues of the scaenae frons
providing a background to the band playing softly as they
warm up their instruments. Tessa is there, adjusting a mic
stand among glass orbs of different colors that throw
flickering candlelight across the stone. The semi-circular
orchestra section in front of the stage is bordered by
lanterns. There’s a spot set up with blankets and colorful
pillows in the middle of the ima cavea, the lowest portion of
the seating area.
Ashen moves forward to start leading us down the steps
but I can’t move. The air isn’t flowing in or out of my lungs,
even though my mouth is open. My free hand is pressed to
my sternum to keep my thrumming heart from melting
through my bones. Tears sting my eyes as Ashen takes a
step back to my side.
“Come on, vampire,” he whispers as his arm slides
across my back. “The show is ready to begin.”
I press my lips together and try to let out that breath
that’s been trapped in my chest. I can’t seem to take my
hand away from my mark. I’m afraid my heart will burst
apart if I don’t hold it together. I fight so hard to keep those
tears from cresting my lashes, but one manages to slip out.
Ashen says nothing as I wipe it away, even though I know
he sees.
The band starts playing as we walk down the terraced
seating to the spot set up with purple blankets and pillows
in jewelled tones. There are glass lanterns surrounding the
seating area, their flames sheltered from the gentle breeze.
Tessa’s voice flows toward us as she sings. My eyes lock
with hers and she smiles.
Ashen offers his hand for balance as I lower myself onto
the blanket. My thoughts are scattering like a handful of
stones tossed into the ocean. I’m trying to take it all in,
everything from the purple shade of the blankets that I now
recognize as original Tyrian, the dye made from murex and
reserved for royalty, to the glass orbs on the stage that look
hand blown, their flecks of gold and rich colors much like
the ones in my broken statue. Ashen sits beside me and
stays silent as I try to contain myself and this sea of
everything I feel that could drown me, if I let it.
When the song ends, the band moves on to the next one
without a break, and Ashen pours a glass of fangria from a
pitcher for me and one of wine for himself. He barely drinks
from it, which for some reason causes the flock of
butterflies currently residing in my stomach to flee up my
chest and flutter around in the backs of my arms too. I
down my drink in the hopes they’ll all drown.
“How did you do all this?” I ask quietly as Ashen refills
my glass. I promise myself I’ll nurse this one, even if the
first sip is more like a gulp.
“I’m a demon. We are nothing if not efficient.”
“And sneaky.”
“Maybe a little.”
I look at Ashen for a long moment and he looks back at
me, his hand drifting through my hair, his fingertips
skimming my bare skin. I see a little worry in his eyes and I
tilt my head, trying to work him out past the barriers he’s
somehow put between us. I don’t feel as much from him as
I normally do. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that those
walls would be so easy to erect if he’s afraid I won’t like all
of this. “It’s amazing, Ashen. Everything you’ve done,” I
say, looking down at my hand as it passes over the blanket.
“I see it all, and it’s wonderful. I love it so much. Thank
you.”
Ashen’s only reply is to pull me closer, placing a
lingering kiss to my temple before draping his arm across
my shoulders, his hand tracing patterns onto my arm as we
listen to the band and sip our drinks. The sun is sinking
lower, dipping behind the scaenae frons to paint the clouds
in color. The band starts a new song, Benediction by Luke
Sital-Singh, the cover soaring in Tessa’s clear, resonant
voice.
“Dance with me, vampire,” Ashen whispers into my skin.
He sets his glass down, then pulls mine from my fingers
that suddenly feel cold as gooseflesh pebbles my arms. He
takes my hand and pulls me up, leading us to the orchestra
space a few steps down.
Ashen must be able to hear my heart rioting in my chest
as it presses to his when we take our place below the stage.
He must be able to feel the way my skin tingles with his
touch as he slides his palm across my hip to rest low on my
back. I close my eyes for just a moment, taking in the scent
of vanilla that warms the smell of ink and unlit cigars
drifting around me. And then we start moving with the
music, dancing through the space as though we’re part of
the breeze that surrounds us.
Benediction ends and we don’t part as the guitar starts
up for the next song. It’s the melody for Can’t Help Falling
In Love, by Elvis. Ashen leads us through the slow,
languorous pace of the opening, keeping me close, his
breath fanning over my neck and shoulder. The lyrics begin
pouring from Tessa as though coming right out of her
heart, and when I look up at her she smiles with so much
light and color in her eyes that she puts the sunset to
shame.

Sunsets glow
Silver paints the moon
Their light can’t match
The shine of my love for you

I meet Ashen’s eyes with a grin as the revised lyrics

reverberate through the air. We’re drifting through the
space, turning slowly to the beat that laps at the
amphitheater like gentle waves in a calm ocean. Ashen
gives me only a fleeting, faint smile in return as his hand
draws me in close and I rest my face against his shoulder,
bathed in his warmth.

I might not be
Worthy to call you mine
But I’ll love you
Until the end of time

My back is to the stage. I don’t see them enter as Tessa

starts the next lines of the song. And then, as she sings the
lyrics, a choir weaves in lines of the Song of Seikilos.

Surely as your voice

(Time demands its toll)

I go still, turning to look at the stage. A choir of twenty

singers stand behind the band.

Guides my ship to shore

(Have no grief at all)
 I let go of Ashen’s hand to bring it to my mouth, my
other resting over my pounding heart as the beauty of the
choir steals every beat.

Vampire, so it goes
(Life exists)
Some love
(For only a short while)

Ashen’s hand leaves my back as I take a step toward the

stage. Tears pool at the edges of my lashes.

Is meant to be
(While you live, shine)

There’s a long breath of a pause. A glassy sheen reflects

the lantern light in Tessa’s eyes. The choir sings with her as
she finishes the song.

So take my sword
Take my butter too
I’d give it all
Just to marry you
I’d give it all
Just to marry you

The guitar softens, continuing the gentle melody. I stare

up at the stage as though the music has taken my soul. But
it’s not the music that’s pulled my heart from me.
“Lu,” Ashen says.
I turn, so slowly, one hand still pressed to my lips, the
other to the mark that hums with Ashen’s presence.
I catch just a glimpse of him down on one knee and my
tears break the dam, coursing down my skin.
 “Come here, Lu,” he says, reaching out a hand for me to
take. “I have a question for you.”
“Is it about butter?”
“Maybe in part.”
I let out a laugh that’s as much as a cry and step closer,
my legs already shaking. I place my trembling hand in his
warm, steady one and grip it tight.
“My Lu,” Ashen says, his voice as warm and magical as a
star-riddled summer night. I can just barely hear the steady
thump of his heart past the thrumming of my own. “What I
said was true, Lu. I have chosen you from the first moment
I met you. I will choose you every day to come. I know I do
not deserve to have you, not after the things I’ve done over
this long immortal life. But I promise to try to be worthy of
your love. I promise to take your hand when you wander in
the night. To whisper to you so that you know you are not
alone. I promise to stand with you in every moment, no
matter if they are ones of vengeance or justice or mercy. I
will make you fangria and let you have my butter to make
bulletproof bloffee, even though I know you actually hate it
and you only drink it to provoke me. I promise to try not to
laugh at your jokes to see your face light up all the brighter
when I do. I promise that I will love you until there is no
sun or stars in the sky, until the end of time and beyond.”
Ashen reaches into his jacket and pulls out a black box,
letting go of my hand to open it. “Will you marry me, Lu?”
Tears carve hot trails down my skin as I nod.
“I didn’t quite catch that, vampire,” Ashen says, a
wicked grin lighting his face. Crimson flame illuminates the
shine that glasses the surface of his eyes.
I laugh, my throat painfully tight as I try not to sob when
I finally manage to get the words out. “Yes, Ashen. I will
marry you.”
He doesn’t even get a chance to pull the ring from the
box when I’m crashing into him. He picks me up as he
stands, my arms wrapped so tightly around his neck that I
could choke him. My shoulders shake as I dissolve into
everything I feel, and all the gratitude and happiness and
joy that floods from Ashen, tingling as it ripples beneath my
skin. When he sets me down, he slides the ring on my
finger, a pear-shaped, salt-and-pepper diamond set in gold
with the lightest touch of rose, white diamonds encircling
the band. I look at it for just a moment before I kiss him
with everything I’ve got, all the love I feel, all the relief of
the loneliness that takes time to dissolve, its wounds still
deep in my heart. I kiss him with the power of everything
he heals in me and all I hope to heal in him, in time. He
holds my face in his palms and the radiant joy in his touch
warms my damp cheeks. But then I feel a sudden spike of
nerves he can’t hide when he finally pulls away.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“There’s one more thing, vampire,” he says, and I feel
my brows tighten with worry and confusion. “I don’t want
to wait when we face so many unknowns among the realms.
I want to hear you call me your husband tomorrow, not
weeks or months from now. I want to fall asleep this
evening with my wife in my arms. I want you to marry me
tonight.”
“Tonight? Where…here?” I ask, and Ashen nods with
another sly smile. “How?”
“Well, I thought he might be able to help,” Ashen says,
nodding toward the stage. I turn to see Mr. Hassan
standing next to Tessa with a broad smile and Cole in a suit
off to his right, looking every inch the Best Man.
“But—”
“She’s over there,” Ashen says, anticipating my
question. Ediye walks forward from next to the choir, her
lower lip trembling in her smile, tears glistening on her
skin, a beautiful azure gown flowing across her slim frame.
Ashen’s hand flows down my back. “What do you say,
vampire?”
 I take one deep breath. I don’t want to wait either. I
know it in every crack that’s mending in my heart. “Yes.”
Ashen’s arm slides around my waist from behind, his lips
resting against my ear. “One more thing,” he whispers, and
turns us to face the terraced steps behind us.
Eryx’s wings are folded tight across his back, his skin
glowing in the light of the setting sun. His arm is held aloft
as he escorts a woman down the stairs.
Straight hair, as glossy as a curtain of black silk.
Dark olive skin, radiant and alive.
Her onyx eyes, so filled with fear the last time I saw
them, now filled with tears of elation.
My knees buckle, but Ashen is there to catch me.
“Aglaope.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 17

M y sister.
Gone for so long. A painful memory. A blade of
the sharpest loss in my heart.
And now she’s here, standing before me like not a
moment has passed.
Ashen holds me steady as Aglaope clasps my face
between her hands. I weep. I touch her skin. I feel her
pulse tick like a metronome beneath my fingertips. Tears
streak her cheeks. Her inimitable, ancient beauty is alive.
She’s alive.
“Do not cry, my love. It is your wedding day,” she says,
and some kind of garbled sound bursts from me as I crush
her into my trembling embrace. My entire body shakes as
she wraps her arms across my back. I’m breaking apart. I
can’t contain everything I feel. I don’t know what happens
if it bursts into the world and covers it in stardust. I just
know I’ll never be the same.
My sister holds me as I fight away the images l have of
Aglaope’s last moments alive, trying to replace them with
the feeling of her in my arms. I still remember the pressure
of her hands on my chest as she pushed me into the sea.
I’ve relived it so many times that the pathway to that
moment of the past was burnt into my mind, over and over
until it became more than just a memory. It became fuel. It
became a beacon. And now I press my eyes closed and
inhale her pomegranate scent and try to put it out.
I can’t really move, not for a long while. We just sway
together as though we’re stalks of seagrass drifting in the
breeze. It’s not until Aglaope reaches behind me for
something and manages to extricate herself enough from
my desperate embrace to wipe my face with a black
handkerchief that I finally start pulling my shit together.
Almost.
Okay…not really. Not as a thousand thoughts seem to
come crashing down on me.
Aglaope and I have been apart for so many years. She’s
coming back to a world that left her behind centuries ago.
And I’ve been changing the entire time.
I’ve killed in her name and mine. I faked my death. I’ve
been taken, and tortured, and turned into something new.
And now I’m the Queen of the demons, of the realm that
stole her soul.
And I’m marrying her killer’s brother.
…
….
…..Oh sweet baby Jesus.
Full on freak-out commencing.
I’m almost positive my ribs are shredding my lungs like
a cheese grater. Can vampires have heart attacks? I think
I’m having a heart attack. What happens if I go into cardiac
arrest? Do I go to the Resurrection Chamber? That would
ruin this date for sure. Oh my God that would be the worst
first date in history. Not just the worst first date, the worst
proposal. No, the worst wedding. I’d leave Ashen at the
altar by freak-out death and then I’d kill him too and holy
mother of God someone help me.
I grimace and press my hand to my chest as worry
flickers across Aglaope’s face. A pair of strong hands pulls
me back and Ashen turns me into his embrace.
 “All right, vampire,” he whispers, pulling us a few steps
away as I try to catch the air with my lungs. Why is it so
hard? It’s fucking everywhere but it won’t go in. “Listen to
the music, vampire. Listen.”
A familiar song is playing. I hear Tessa’s voice and try to
focus on her words. It takes a moment to realize she’s
singing the lyrics to Let It All Go.
“You remember this?” Ashen asks, and I give a jerky
nod. Smoke rises around us in inky black curls. “When we
danced in Bit Akalum, that was the moment I knew I could
not stop myself from falling in love with you. It was the last
battle lost. Even so, I still thought I could keep it to myself.
I thought I could push you away if I needed to, but for me,
there was no more denying what I had already started to
feel.”
My chest finally starts to pull in air. The darkness that I
now realize was creeping into my vision fades as I focus on
the feeling of Ashen’s fingers drifting through my hair. The
longer I listen to the music, or take in his comforting scent,
or watch the scrolls of smoke swirl around us, the more the
fist around my heart releases its grip. By the time the band
has finished the next song, my pulse has slowed enough
that it’s nearly back to normal.
“This is a lot to take in,” Ashen whispers, changing
nothing about his embrace or the rhythm of his fingers as
they pass through my hair.
“Does Aglaope know? About Ember? Everything else?”
“Not everything. But she knows the most important
parts. I spoke with her this afternoon. She just wants you to
be happy.” I close my eyes and press my ear to Ashen’s
chest, relishing the steady sound of his breath. Blood fills
and leaves the chambers of his heart, as it has for centuries
past. I focus on the sounds and the smells, and slowly my
own heart matches pace with his. “We do not need to be
married tonight if it’s too much.”
“I want to.”
 “No one will think badly of you if you don’t. And if they
ever did, I would rip out their spines.”
I blow a laugh into Ashen’s chest.
“I’m being serious.”
“I know.”
“Through their throats.”
“I can imagine. Vividly.”
Ashen’s arms tighten around me before they release. His
palms warm my shoulders as he scrutinizes my face. I must
look like trash from all this crying, but it’s like he can’t see
it. “Are you sure, vampire?”
I give him a wobbly smile as I nod and wipe my face with
another black handkerchief that Ashen supplies. “Surer
with every minute, Reaper.”
Ashen’s eyes sweep over my face, hunting for doubt. I
already know there is none to find. When he seems
satisfied, the smoke blows away in the breeze. His palm
drops from my shoulder to wrap around my hand, warming
the gold encircling my finger. When I glance over my
shoulder at my sister, her smile is dimmer than it was
before, her hand resting on her chest.
I turn ahead again and Ashen and I walk together
toward the stage where Mr. Hassan, Cole, and Ediye have
descended to stand in the orchestra. The cello and bass
play a melody that’s both haunting and hopeful as Ediye’s
eyes darken to space and stars, and she raises her palms
like an offering as she creates an archway of light above us.
Sparkling flowers in pastel shades of blues and pinks bloom
and shed their glowing petals, raining down across our
shoulders as we halt before them.
“When it comes to marriage, vampire customs adapt
with the human rites that change around them,” Mr.
Hassan says, his smile flickering like candlelight as he
opens a heavy book to a marker saved with ribbon.
“Reapers rarely wed, even within their realm. I don’t know
of a vampire who has ever wedded a demon. So, we will use
the ancient rites of the Guild of Gilgamesh, and your union
will be written into the annals of the Apothecaries. Do you
accept?”
“Yes,” I say, and Ashen gives a single nod in my
periphery.
Mr. Hassan shuffles as he turns toward Ediye. “The
diadems, sahira.”
Ediye smiles, her skin glowing in the light that brightens
from her eyes, the tiny pinpricks of stars swirling in their
galaxies. I feel something twining into my hair and reach
up to touch a twisting crown of delicate stems and tiny
crystals that feel like droplets of ice. Ediye shifts her
attention to Ashen and I try to subdue my growing smile,
biting down on my lip until I taste copper.
“She gave me horns, didn’t she,” the Reaper says with a
flat glare.
A peal of laughter fills the amphitheater as two short,
glittering horns sprout from his hair. But in just a moment
they split and stretch and divide until they become a low
crown of antlers and swirling black ivy.
“Rings,” the old man says, and Cole places the bands on
the open book. I hand over my engagement ring too when
the elderly apothecary gives me a pointed look. Mr. Hassan
pulls a small ampule from his jacket and taps the dust
within across the bands. “Beata sunt haec amoris signa,
quae latorem in omnia regna sequuntur.”
The dust crackles and disappears as though absorbed by
the rings. The old man then passes the first ring to me, a
wide black band, the edges polished in the same shade of
gold as my ring. I turn to Ashen, taking his hand as I hold
the ring at his fingertip.
“Now repeat after me, azizati,” Mr. Hassan says, and I
nod, watching as he casts his eyes down to the text of the
old book. “Love that gives life to the dying, let your heart
be reconciled.”
 I look at Ashen and he back at me, surprise in both of
our eyes. It’s so similar to my spell from the first night that
Ashen and I met, the spell I cast to save his life. Mr. Hassan
senses my hesitancy and looks between us.
“Something wrong?”
“No,” I say with a slow smile. I don’t know what it
means that I somehow knew these words months ago, but it
fills me with both wonder and peace. “Love that gives life
to the dying, let your heart be reconciled.”
The old man looks back down to his book, his finger
tracing the next line of text. “Light that gives life to the
shadows, let your soul be reconciled.”
I repeat the words, slipping the ring onto Ashen’s finger
when Mr. Hassan nods toward his hand.
“When and where you are, then and there I am,” the
apothecary says. I recite the words, and then it’s Ashen’s
turn to do the same. He slides a curved band of black
diamonds onto my finger, then a second wedding band to
follow once the engagement ring is back in place, the dark
stones framing the point of the pear-shaped stone like a
crown.
Mr. Hassan passes the book to Ediye and pulls another
ampule from his jacket. He motions us to hold out our left
hands and positions them so they’re both turned upward
next to one another, forming a cup. He pulls the stopper
from the vial and pours silver dust across our skin. First it
scatters like crushed stone into the crevices of our palms,
and then it rises, swirling as though caught in a tiny
tornado. The tornado flares into a flame before collapsing,
doused in a miniature, magical rainstorm. The droplets
disappear like worms of light into our skin as soon as they
touch our palms. “Terra, ventus, ignis, aqua, amare,” Mr.
Hassan says. “Etiam si astra pereunt, sic amor tuus lucebit.
Even when the stars are lost, so your love will shine.”
Mr. Hassan takes the book back from Ediye. He flips
through the pages and finds the last one where the ledger
stops and the blank parchment continues on. At the end of
a list, he writes our names. Leucosia of Anthemoessa and
Ashen of House Urbigu, wed by Ammon Hassan according
to the rites of the Guild of Gilgamesh.
When he’s finished, he closes the book, and looks at us
with a smile shining through the glassy film of his eyes.
“You are married, young ones. Now warm this old
romantic’s heart and kiss.”
I give him a flash of a smile in gratitude before I turn to
Ashen.
Time slows. Ediye’s fireworks burst around us, every
flash illuminating something different in Ashen’s face. The
tiny flecks of gold that glow in his eyes. The curve of his
lips as his smile fades away, drifting into a sea of endless
longing. The crease that appears between his brows as he
steps closer, his hand sliding into my hair to rest at the
nape of my neck. I feel every wave of love and hope that
floats between us through the tether of my mark, desire so
deep it burns like a shard of heated metal in my heart.
“I love you, Ashen,” I whisper before our lips touch. His
eyes watch every movement of my mouth as I speak.
“I love you too, Lu. My wife.” And then his lips are on
mine, his taste on my tongue, his breath mixing with mine.
Glittering light falls across us like rain. There’s clapping
and cheering. Music weaves around us. The people I love
most in all the world are right here. And as Ashen raises
me up in his arms and presses me to his chest, I know it,
without any doubt. I know I will choose this man every day,
for as many days as we have.
When we part, several guards of the Shub Lugal appear,
bringing out a table and chairs, setting them up in the
orchestra. Everyone works together to dress the table,
pulling indigo plates and polished cutlery and simple dishes
of food made for sharing from baskets. Candles are lit,
flowers are laid out, wine is uncorked. Warm blood spiced
with cinnamon and cardamom is poured from thermoses for
Aglaope and me. And then we sit, Ashen to my left, my
sister to my right, Ediye across from me, her brilliant smile
like an anchor in the moments when I feel overwhelmed. As
the conversation and the wine flow around the table, it gets
easier. There’s so much I want to tell my sister, and so
many fears I want to find comfort in with my friends. But
not tonight. Instead, we spend more time talking about our
distant past and shared memories than the ones we made
apart, or the uncertainty that plagues our murky future. We
just enjoy the moments we have now.
When the meal is over, the table and chairs are taken
away and the band kicks off another set. We dance. We
laugh. I smile until my cheeks burn. My happiness swells as
I watch Eryx and Ediye and Cole together, their relief of
being reunited nearly palpable. I grin as Mr. Hassan leads
Aglaope around the orchestra, her dark hair fluttering in
the breeze. My heart takes up more space in my chest than
I ever thought possible.
“I wish this night would never end,” I say as I sit on
Ashen’s lap and we watch the others dance. His hand rests
on my thigh and I spin the ring around his finger, the edges
of polished gold catching the lantern light.
“I think I’ve had that same wish every night we’ve spent
together,” Ashen confesses, and I lean away to meet his
eyes with a doubtful, teasing smile.
“Even the infamous night of fangria?”
Ashen pulls me closer and presses a kiss to my shoulder.
“You trusted me enough to fall asleep in my bed.”
“What about the night I went wandering at Bianca’s to
paint my blood on her bathroom walls?”
“You let me put my arm around you when I thought you
might never let me touch you again. And then you made me
take my shirt off in your sleep and promptly sprawled
across me like a blanket.”
My cheeks flush as I give him a derisive snort. “What
about the night I killed you in Cairo?”
 “Up until the moment I found a blade sliding across my
throat, I definitely didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t believe
my luck every second before that.”
A little laugh escapes my lips and I lean into Ashen’s
chest. His heart thumps its steady percussion beneath my
hand. I close my eyes and inhale his scent. “How does this
one stack up in the ranking then?”
“Second best.”
I pull back, looking into Ashen’s eyes, my gaze sweeping
between them as though one might tell a different story
than the other. “Second best?”
“You heard me,” he says, tightening his hold around my
waist. “The night we mated. That’s the first. You chose me.
You told me you loved me. You bound yourself to me. From
that moment, to me, you were my wife.”
I raise my hands to Ashen’s face, framing it in my palms.
His warmth is the sun to my cool touch, the perfect balance
where we meet. When I look into his eyes, it feels like
looking into all the moments of history, stacked up in the
strata of time. But I see the future too. Our future. The one
that never should have been, but shines all the brighter for
its rarity, as precious as a gem cleaved from the depths of
the earth. “The night is far from over yet, my husband,” I
whisper, and every angle of Ashen’s face seems to change
beneath my palms.
I lose myself in Ashen’s kiss as we flow through the
music and into the night, light and shadow, darkness and
stars.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 18

A shen’s hand has been resting on my mark. I feel the

warmth in every line of blue and gold, even when his
palm slides across my breast. The hot length of his erection
twitches behind me and I smile, wriggling closer in an
invitation. He slides into me, my pussy already wet and
ready for him before I was even awake. I sigh with
contentment as Ashen kisses my shoulder.
“My wife. You smell like the sea. Like a spring wind that
carries the scent of ice still clinging to the green shoots of
grass,” he whispers next to my ear. I tilt my head toward
his warmth and reach back to run my fingers through his
dark hair. I trace lines and patterns across his scalp and he
hums a purr against my neck, his strokes languid and slow.
This isn’t our usual way. Even after more than one
round, there’s so much dark energy and consuming need
for one another that we fuck with desperate, sometimes
brutal force. Our desire is like an imploding star that lives
between us, sucking us in with inescapable gravity. But
this? This is not fucking. This is love stripped to its purest
core. Gentle. Careful. Reverential. Warm, like the early
morning sun that filters through the window, heating the
dark tiles of the floor with the first promise of a new day.
One of Ashen’s hands caresses my breast while the
other slides down my belly, the pads of his fingers tracing a
slow line to my center. He groans when he touches the
creamy soft skin of my freshly waxed pussy as though it’s a
revelation, even though he already spent half the night
worshipping it.
“So soft,” he whispers as his fingers trace light patterns
across my flesh before finding my clit. “I could live the rest
of eternity right here, touching you. Being inside you.”
“You could, but imagine how much you would miss
butter. Maybe one day I’ll just have to lather myself in it so
you can lick it all off.”
“Do not tease me, vampire,” he says past a groan, biting
my shoulder as though imagining the taste.
“But teasing you is my favorite game. And speaking of
breakfast—” and I don’t even finish my thought before
Ashen is shifting, pulling out to lay me on my back. He
glides back in, offering his neck to my fangs. My teeth
puncture his throat in a shallow bite and I sigh with
contentment as his blood fills my mouth, my walls aching as
his cock slides with steady, deep strokes.
“Christ, vampire,” he hisses as I suck in a long draw, the
blood fizzing on my tongue and down my throat. I feel the
depths of his desire burn beneath my mark. “It’s almost too
much to bear.”
I pull my fangs from his neck and run a fingertip over
one of the needled points, drawing a channel of blood from
my sliced skin. “Then let’s make it truly unbearable, shall
we?” I whisper as I slide my teeth back into his skin. I trace
a line down his spine with my undamaged fingers and he
shudders, stalling the steady rhythm of his thrusts as I
caress the rise of his ass. His breath catches in his lungs
and his body tenses as my fingers follow the line to find the
clenched rim of his hole. I tease a few circles around it,
testing the entrance before slowly easing my bloodied
finger inside.
“Emush laatzu,” Ashen curses through gritted teeth as I
smile against his skin, my touch gently massaging inside
him as a long moan rolls from his chest. “You are going to
be the death of me, wife. Again.” His long thrusts resume
as I take more pulls of blood from his neck. The power and
depth of his strokes builds, my flesh stretching around
him.
“I thought you said you wouldn’t complain,” I purr, my
voice low and seductive. I put more gentle pressure into
the massage of my finger and he hisses another curse.
“You are mistaken. I am not complaining.”
“It sounded almost like—”
“Vampire, I would die a thousand deaths at just to feel
your touch.”
Ashen holds my gaze for a long moment as his erection
glides slowly within me, and then his lips claim mine, our
tongues tangling and dancing. The ache inside me twists
until it unravels, my center clenching his girth as my back
arches off the bed. I swirl my finger in gentle strokes and
Ashen cries out as he spills into me, his body shaking with
a shattering orgasm. He pumps in slow thrusts as we wring
every breath of pleasure from the moment, wrapped in one
another and the endless need that never lets us go.
“Good morning, husband,” I say when the orgasm
subsides and Ashen rests his forehead to my shoulder, his
unsteady breath fanning across my skin. I hear the heavy
beat in his heart that pounds with my words.
“Don’t say that. I will only want to fuck you again and
we are already going to be late to meet the others,” Ashen
says, his cock twitching within me as though fighting his
mind.
“I think your dick has other ideas.”
Ashen huffs a laugh but slides out of me nonetheless. “It
always does when it comes to you,” he says as he offers a
hand to help me out of bed.
“We can appease it by fucking in the shower. It’s called
multitasking,” I reply. I take his hand and pass him, leading
him to the bathroom. When we’ve finished making love
once more beneath the rain shower stream of scalding
water, we pack up and head down to the lobby to check
out.
Our driver is waiting when we pass through the doors,
and we speed away to the east, taking a dirt road that
winds through agricultural lands to stop at a dead end
where the others are waiting. Eryx and Cole stand off to
one side with Mr. Hassan while Ediye speaks with my
sister, her gestures toward our approaching car like some
explanation about the vehicle and how it works. My heart
pains a little for Aglaope and the confusion she must feel
walking into a world that’s advanced so much since she last
felt the touch of the sun. But her expression is one of
interest as she nods with Ediye’s words, and she smiles as
the sedan rolls to a halt.
“Morning, newlyweds,” Eryx says as we approach, his
eyes lighting in that glitterball thing that he does when he’s
excited about anything to do with love. I give him a smile as
Ashen’s hand tenses around mine, already eager to rip
those glitterballs right out of Eryx’s angelic face and squish
them underfoot.
Ediye snorts a laugh. “Sex fiends, not newlyweds.”
“Sex fiend newlyweds,” Cole supplies.
“Shhh. Not in front of our…elders…” Eryx says, waving
them to shush with a pointed nod in Mr. Hassan’s direction.
The old man scoffs with a gruff bah.
I smirk as I look between them, watching as Eryx’s
cheeks heat with a pink glow. “You’re so wholesome, even
for an angel,” I say. Cole and Ediye bark a synchronized
laugh as Eryx’s cheeks turn from pink to crimson.
“Right. Wholesome.” Ediye gives him a sardonic smile
before she turns her attention toward Mr. Hassan, who is
unperturbed by our banter. “On a more serious note, Mr.
Hassan, I mentioned that Lu and Ashen here need some
help.”
 “Ah, yes,” the old apothecary says, his ancient eyes
shifting to me. “The sahira mentioned you needed a
Resurrectionist. I can do this for you, but I will need to
gather some supplies before we travel to your realm. This
is not easy. It will be costly, though I doubt that will be a
problem.”
I blanch. I don’t even know how much gold coin I have,
and it’s the preferred payment of apothecaries. What I’d
squirreled away in my life before the Shadow Realm is
hidden all over the place and will take time to track down.
Thankfully, Ashen seems untroubled by the payment issue
and bows his head in gratitude. “Whatever it takes. We will
pay.”
“There’s something more,” I say as I glance at Ashen.
He nods and lets the strap of our bag slide from his
shoulder. I turn my gaze back to Mr. Hassan as Ashen
unzips the backpack. “I found something in the Shadow
Realm that we wanted to show you, to see if you could tell
us anything about it.”
Ashen pulls the humming orb from the bag and
recognition flashes across the apothecary’s face. His eyes
widen and he reaches out to cradle the sphere in his palms.
“Where did you get this, azizati?”
“It was at the bottom of the Black Sea. Kind of a long
story.” The old man’s gaze flicks up to mine before he
examines the stone. I clear my throat, trying to rid myself
of the taste of memory. “It was in some kind of door made
of metal rings. There were inscriptions in a language I
didn’t recognize. Almost like Sumerian, but different. And
there was a sort of whisper ribbon…thing…in a repeating
chant.”
“What did it say?” he asks, knowing I’ll remember it all
as though it only happened moments ago.
“Hursanu y aabba, ziana y anzu. Os naru nibiru
insabatu. Elu lo zaqru. Nadna lo sagzal Mitusitum,” I reply,
reciting the unfamiliar words.
 The old man blows a thin stream of air through tense,
wrinkled lips. His thumb caresses the polished surface of
the black stone. It hums beneath his touch like a cat in the
sun. “The language is Dingir. The language of the gods. It
says ‘mountains and seas, valleys and skies. I call upon the
convergence. Raise the veil. Relinquish the key of
Deathfate’.”
“Deathfate,” Ashen says, his eyes narrowing on the old
man who only nods. “The key of Deathfate?”
“That doesn’t sound so good,” I say as Mr. Hassan hands
the stone to me. “When I managed to get the sphere, the
door opened, and there was a woman in the distance.”
Mr. Hassan’s face pales but his eyes are sharp and
bright as they lock to mine. “What did you see? Did she say
anything, azizati?”
I nod, glancing at Ashen as I feel his worry pull at the
boundaries of my mark. “I saw threads of light. I couldn’t
see her face, but she spoke to me. She said, ‘Leucosia
Anthemoessatum. Rakbu mitusitum. Eteru sut.’”
“Leucosia of Anthemoessa. Guardian of Deathfate. Save
us.”
Fuck. That doesn’t sound good at all. Mr. Hassan can
see the dismay rising in my face. His eyes soften and he
smiles as he reaches out to pat my hand. “There is another
stone,” I say.
“Yes. Soulfate. It resides in the Realm of Light. Not just
anyone can take or wield them. They must be worthy, an
ancient immortal. One who has earned the right to travel
the three realms without a chaperone.”
Ashen’s hand tenses around mine. “The Nephilim. That’s
why they need Lu, to retrieve the stones. For what end?”
“As the legend goes, if the stones are brought together,
they could open Alahalsu, the gateway to the fates. The
fates on the other side are the last of the gods. If someone
were to pass the gates, they could usurp and control them.
They could remake destiny to their liking. Destroy enemies.
Destroy entire realms. Put themselves into rule over
whatever they wished to keep.”
“Where is Alahalsu? And the Soulfate stone, do we have
any idea where it would be in the Realm of Light?” Ediye
asks as a quiet sense of dread descends on a low, gentle
breeze.
“I don’t know, sahira. I will take the oldest texts with me
when I gather my things, but most of this was oral history
so ancient that it became myth,” Mr. Hassan replies.
“And the enemy, the Nephilim, what do we know of
them?” I ask. “They were like campfire ghost stories
thousands of years ago. I’ve heard nothing about them for
millennia until Aloros and Leander both mentioned them.
Does the Guild have any knowledge of the Nephilim?”
“Most of what is known about them was kept in the
records of the anunnaki. Many believe they were fallen,
corrupted angels, cast out of all the realms for wicked
crimes against the gods. They do not exist directly in the
realms. But this could be more of your campfire tales, told
and changed each time with the telling. We will look for
clues, but there is no guarantee we will find anything. It
will likely be the anunnaki you must seek for answers.”
“Anything?” I ask when I turn toward Eryx.
“Mr. Mistoffelees,” he says with a shrug, and I snort a
laugh at the memory of Club Caelum as he smiles. “I don’t
know, but I can pay a visit home soon and try to find out.”
Ediye gives a single, decisive nod. “Eryx and Cole, can
you go to Valentina’s and gather our things, let her know
we’ll be heading out? I’ll take Mr. Hassan back to his place.
I’ll need more supplies too.”
Ashen’s already rigid stance hardens even further. He
takes the tourmaline sphere from Mr. Hassan and places it
back in the bag. “Lu and I will open the corridor to Cairo
and will meet you there.”
“Aglaope,” I say, turning to my sister. “Did you know
Valentina? She was created by Molpe.”
 Aglaope nods. “Yes, I remember her. I met her only
once.”
“She has an estate not far from Castle Bran. She is
temporarily staying with a coven of witches not far from
her home. It would be best for you to go with Cole and
Eryx, and Valentina will make sure you can hunt safely.”
Aglaope gives me a warm smile, her hand trailing over
my hair with affection. “All right, sister.”
I turn to Cole next. “Tell Valentina we’ll be back to deal
with the hybrids and werewolves when we can. Take the
corridor to the Shadow Realm as soon as you’re done. We’ll
make sure it’s open for you. And bring Davina.”
“Is there…is there something you could make for me, so
I can go to the Shadow Realm too?” Eryx asks as he steps
forward, his eyes fixed to the apothecary with an
expression both hopeful and full of longing. My heart
cracks watching Cole take the angel’s hand with a rueful
smile. “I don’t want to stay behind.”
“Yes, I think I can make something to help stave off the
burn and allow you to stay for a few days at a time,” Mr.
Hassan says, a glint in his eye. He smiles at the wash of
relief in Eryx’s expression. “We’ll make sure to bring plenty
of what we need.”
I take Ashen’s hand and shift my gaze across my group
of friends. My family. The people I love and depend on. The
people that I hope depend on me in return. “Okay. Let’s all
get going. I don’t want to linger any more from the Shadow
Realm now that we know what they’re after. I never
thought I’d say this, but it’s probably the safest place for us
right now.”
Words of agreement pass among the group and Ediye
lays out the circle of charred bones and pine needles and
fragrant herbs to make her portal. When it’s ready, she
chants her spells to raise the black orb of spinning stars,
and Cole, Eryx, and Aglaope walk forward to slip away into
Romania. When they’re gone, she forms a new portal, and
takes Mr. Hassan away to Cairo. As the orb bursts in a
spray of black glitter, Ashen and I head back to the sedan
that takes us to the house in Pamukkale.
We leave through the cauldron in the basement, the
Shub Lugal soldier who was our driver following after us,
and once safely back in the Shadow Realm we shut that
corridor and leave it under guard. We check on the status
of the realm with one of the soldiers, and when Ashen is
satisfied that all is still safe, we walk in silence to House
Urbigu where the corridor to Cairo awaits. When we take
it, we arrive at the Reaper house in the suburbs of the city,
the memories of this courtyard flooding back to me from
months ago. The mosaic fountain still trickles, the scent of
limestone dust and cooking spices still perfumes the air.
Ashen smiles as he takes my hand and we walk toward the
house, and I think he must be remembering that time too.
It seems simpler, even though it wasn’t all that long ago.
It’s a funny trick of memory, because fighting both love and
loneliness wasn’t any easier than fighting an elusive enemy
with my new husband at my side.
We walk through the house and into the garage, pulling
the canvas from the two Triumph Scramblers and rolling
our motorcycles into the afternoon sun. I follow Ashen
through the busy streets as we drive into the heart of the
city, to Khan el-Khalili market, parking at the same cafe as
we did the last time we came. I pull my helmet off,
remembering how Ashen grasped my handlebars, how the
lights of the cafe and the passing cars illuminated his
pained, almost desperate expression. I remember the
feeling of his hand on my cheek, and my fingers trace my
skin as I hear his words echo from memory.
If you’re trapped in the Realm of Light, I will still find
you.
And just as he promised, he did.
My hand falls away and Ashen is watching me. He
reaches out to catch my fingers and gives them a kiss.
“Come, my sentimental vampire,” he says as my cheeks
heat with a blush. His warm smile grows wicked. “Let’s get
the old man and go home so we can make love and figure
out our next moves with these stones.”
“Oh, you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you,” I say as I
twine my fingers with Ashen’s and we start walking.
“Of course I do. Planning is a large part of the role when
you’re Master of War.”
I snort a laugh as Ashen takes my helmet with his free
hand. “I don’t know if planning sex breaks counts.”
“The job description leaves much room for
interpretation.”
“I dunno. I think I might need to talk to HR. You’ve been
pulling jaws out of faces, taking eyeballs… I’m not sure that
would reflect well on your performance review.”
Ashen scoffs. “You know I…perform. Do I not exceed
expectations?”
“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen this job description of
yours. If it includes being broody and ragey, glaring at
friends, threatening angels, and outbursts with swords, I’d
say you’re killing it. Pun fully intended.”
“You know me, vampire,” he says, nuzzling just below
my ear as I lean into him. Gooseflesh erupts across my neck
and prickles down the backs of my arms. “I aim to please.”
I laugh as we draw near to the entrance of Mr. Hassan’s
building. “You do, don’t you. Maybe you deserve a raise.
Maybe a new title.”
“Such as?”
“I dunno. Maybe King?”
I watch as Ashen’s playful expression turns serious, his
lips setting into a grim line. He takes my hand once more
as we enter the building and start up the winding staircase,
the door drifting shut behind us to muffle the sounds of the
market outside. “I am more effective as your consort. Some
things the Shadow Realm demands are not pretty or
pleasant, but they still need to be done, and I can do them.
But a king, that is not me. I’m not ready.”
I pull Ashen to a stop on a landing, scrutinizing the
worried crease crinkling his brow. The invisible thread
between us seems to pull tight with his anxiety, scratching
at my mark as it tugs. “You don’t want to have an equal
say?”
“No. I don’t. I don’t deserve one.” I open my mouth to
argue, but Ashen’s hand leaves mine to caress my cheek. I
wrap my fingers around his wrist and lean into his palm,
watching as his gaze shifts across my face. “I can be the
darkness to your light. I belong where I am.”
“I’m not that light,” I say with an eye roll. “I fed
someone to a snake just because she was a crusty bitch.”
A breath of a laugh escapes from Ashen, his scent
flooding my skin. “To be fair, you didn’t know she couldn’t
come back.”
“Still. No guarantees I wouldn’t do it again.”
Ashen smiles and presses a kiss to my lips before taking
my hand once more. “I know you. You wouldn’t.”
“Ye of too much faith, demon. Those are probably words
never spoken before in this realm, by the way. If you’re not
—”
I cut myself off, the words dying on my tongue in a flood
of venom. I take in a breath to be sure, but it’s not my
imagination. I know it.
It’s blood.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 19

I look down at my feet. There’s a tiny drop on the next

stair up, another two on the step after that.
Ediye.
Panic surges through the chambers of my heart as we
rush up the stairs. We reach the landing of Mr. Hassan’s
where his apartment takes up the whole floor. The door is
ajar. Ashen pushes it open with his elbow, the motorcycle
helmet still clutched in his hand like a club, his dagger in
the other.
The small foyer gives way to the long, narrow living
room. Afternoon light filters through the shifting dust
motes, glinting off the shattered glass of a cabinet. Broken
vials and potions lay in a pool of blood next to Ediye’s
motionless legs.
“No—”
The word is little more than a strangled whisper as I
rush past Ashen and drop to Ediye’s side. Her dark hair
obscures her face, matted with glistening blood that
streams from a wide gash. She’s still breathing, thank all
the silent gods. I brush her hair back from her eyes, but
they’re closed. Each breath is shallow. Her heart is weak
behind her bones.
“Ediye, oh my God. Ediye,” I whisper, tears flooding my
vision as I lean close to her face. She doesn’t stir. Ashen
passes me, heading further into the apartment as he calls
Mr. Hassan’s name. I’m biting deep into my wrist to pour
my blood into Ediye’s head wound when I hear Ashen curse
from the kitchen. I know in an instant that he’s found the
old man.
“Ammon,” Ashen says, his voice low. I glance over my
shoulder and see the old man’s feet at the entrance to his
kitchen, one of his slippers lying next to his unmoving sole.
I let out a sob and turn back to Ediye, watching my thick
blood drip into her wound.
“Don’t leave me, Ediye. Please,” I beg, leaning my head
down to watch her closed eyes for any flicker of movement.
Her sage scent mixes with her sweet crimson blood. My
heart feels like it’s splitting open and leaking through my
eyes, through my wrist. It’s melting through my stomach,
burning my insides, closing my throat. She looks so
peaceful, slipping away in front of me with every shallow
breath.
But I won’t let it happen. I can’t.
I start to chant a spell. “Pa azaggi enna su zaggin,” I
whisper as Ashen drops to his knees across from me. He
moves my arm away to press tea towels to the wound and
staunch the bleeding. He takes my bloody hand and
squeezes. And then we chant together. Pa azaggi enna su
zaggin. Igimu gimbama betum durisutiis.
We’re repeating our spell, our eyes closed, Ediye’s weak
heartbeat growing just a little stronger. I’m so focused on
the cadence of her breathing that it takes me a moment to
notice.
Voices. From the stairway.
A sharp breath fills my chest and Ashen’s eyes snap
open, meeting mine. He pulls me up and we rush to the
front door, standing just behind it.
Footsteps. Two pairs. A man’s voice. “...sure that he will
have it?”
Then a woman’s, closer. “If anyone does, he will.”
 I look at Ashen and hold up two fingers. He nods and we
exchange a dark glance as he pulls me behind him. It’s a
look that says we could be fucked, but we’ll work together.
We’ll fight together.
There’s a scuff of shoes on the stairs below. “Wynter,”
the man says in warning. There’s a brief moment of silence,
and then the lighter footsteps are flying up the stairs, the
heavier ones following behind. “Wynter! Stop, Wyn!”
A young woman bursts through the door in a blur of
silver hair and a long, flower print dress that billows as
Ashen pulls her into the apartment by the wrist. He spins
her around, the twist of their bodies as elegant as a dance.
She yelps in surprise as Ashen pins her to the wall with his
blade to her neck and his hand clamped across her mouth.
A breath later a man surges through the door. My palm is
waiting for his forehead, and he lurches to a halt as I send
his mind into darkness, following him into his thoughts
There’s panic. Fear. Anger and confusion. And one word.
Just one word, over and over and over, like blinding,
flashing lights.
Wyn. Wyn. Wyn.
His mind is a fractured place with missing history. There
are gaps and blank spaces, like parts have been stripped
away, leaving scars in his thoughts and recollections. And
in the place of missing pieces there’s something hidden,
like a box. Secret even from him. Something that shouldn’t
be there. Something stored away in shadow. There’s no
pathway to it. No memory. It should be impossible for a
vampire to lose memory, to have such gaps and hidden
things with no way to find them. I want to open this secret
chest, but I’m afraid of what I would unleash. I’m reaching
to touch it when a voice pulls me away. I blink and realize
it’s Ashen, calling my name. His voice is barely audible over
the desperate plea from the man in my grasp.
“Wyn! Wyn, where are you? Wynter, answer me. Wyn!”
 I look at the face of the vampire whose cool skin grows
warmer with panic beneath my palm. He’s tall, beautiful.
Grey, almond-shaped eyes are set in rich, medium brown
skin. His thick, black hair is cut close on the sides, with a
slight wave in the longer top. His strong jaw grits with fury.
He’s powerfully built and could probably subdue me if I
didn’t have the advantage of my touch, but I’ve got his
mind convinced that he’s bound to a pole. He strains his
muscular arms behind him as though trying to wrench
himself free.
Ashen’s gaze collides with mine. We both look to the
woman whose neck shudders against his blade, her eyes
wide as she looks between us and over to her companion.
He calls her name again and her lashes press closed,
glistening with tears.
“Calm him down. I’ll make sure he can hear you,” I say
to her, and Ashen waits until she gives a shaky nod before
he peels his hand away from her mouth.
“Roman, I’m here. It’s okay-”
“Wyn—”
“Everything’s okay, Roman. Just stay calm.”
“Wynter—”
“Okay, we’re getting nowhere with him,” I say, adding a
gag to his imagination and closing off his hearing. He fights
against the new restraint, but at least he’s quiet. I turn my
attention back to the woman. She’s shaking and afraid, but
I can see the fierce calculations at work behind her eyes as
she tries to think her way out of her predicament. “Who the
fuck are you?”
“I thought that would be apparent by now. I’m Wynter.
I’m an apothecary.”
I smirk at her sass. Ashen is feeling much less
welcoming. His rage ripples beneath my skin as a cloud of
smoke erupts from his back and drifts to the floor, filling
the foyer. Wynter’s eyes widen as she realizes exactly what
he is. A Reaper.
 “Mind your words. You are speaking to the Queen of the
Shadow Realm.”
Wynter and I may be two different kinds of immortal, but
we are both fluent in silent womanspeak.
Wynter’s eyes flick down to the bloody knees of my jeans
before meeting my gaze. A little crease appears between
her brows. You? Queen of the Shadow Realm?
I shrug one shoulder. Yeah, I know, right? Shit’s wild.
But here we are.
Wynter’s eyes narrow. Last time I checked, they had a
reclusive dickhead with an obsession for shrunken heads
running the show with his witchy Reaper side piece.
Okay, so I doubt Wynter would say it exactly like that,
but it’s the gist of it, I swear. To which the fierce red gleam
in my eyes and the wicked curve at one side of my lips in a
fang-laced smile says, Yeah, that’s right. And I killed them
for it. So maybe you should play nice.
Wynter swallows beneath the sharp edge of the blade.
Her eyes dart to my hand over the forehead of her
struggling companion in one last, suspicious squint. You’re
a vampire?.. But I thought—
“Like I said,” Ashen warns, interrupting us. He presses
the blade harder against Wynter’s skin. Her throat tightens
as she tries to escape the pain of the sharpened steel.
“Mind your words, including the ones you dare not speak
aloud. Insult my wife one more time and I will slit your
throat. I don’t give a fuck what your Guild of Gilgamesh has
to say about it. Now tell us why you are here.”
Wynter swallows audibly, but her gaze doesn’t waiver
from Ashen’s. “I’m here to see Ammon. I need epiphyllum
oxypetallum and recommendations for a witch, a
trustworthy Healer.”
“When was the last time you saw Ammon Hassan?” I
ask.
“A m-month ago. Why?” Ashen and I glance at one
another and back to Wynter, her gaze flicking between us
as rising panic filters into her expression. Her eyes well
with tears. “Why? Where is he? Why are you here?”
A fist of emotions tightens around my throat as I fight to
not look away from the distress rising in her eyes. “Mr.
Hassan was going to come with us to the Shadow Realm to
replace our Resurrectionist. We were with him just an hour
ago. He was gathering supplies with our friend. We just got
here, the door was ajar...”
“Where is he?” Wynter asks again. Her voice is thin and
unsteady, like a ribbon twisting in the wind.
I look at Ashen and give him a nod. His head bobs once
in reply and he lowers his blade, pulling back the smoke
that fills the space around us. He steps to the side and
gestures with his hand to the apartment, his expression
solemn.
Wynter rubs her neck where a pink line rests, darting a
fierce glare at Ashen before she turns her focus to the room
ahead. Her steps falter as she sees the blood and the
broken vials and Ediye’s crumpled form on the floor. She
shoots us a worried glance over her shoulder, her flats
crunching through the shattered glass as Ashen follows to
bend and check on Ediye.
“Stable,” is all he says, but his expression is grim with
warning. We can’t linger, he conveys with a glance, then
stands.
Wynter continues further into the room. A horrified gasp
seizes the silence and flees her lungs in a keening wail. She
rushes out of view toward the body of the elderly
apothecary, already weeping in a sound that splits my soul
with its notes of desperate loss.
“Sheshama,” she pleads. Ashen and I exchange a
fleeting, weighted glance. Uncle. “Wake up, sheshama.”
I watch for a moment as Ashen stands where I can see
him, observing Wynter’s distress in the kitchen with a look
of helplessness hidden deep beneath his distrust. Wynter’s
sobs echo through the room. She needs someone. I look up
at my palm, to the man who desperately strains beneath my
touch in the prison of his own mind.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I say, letting him hear my
voice. He startles but thinks on my words for only a
moment before he calms his struggle. His breath comes in
pants, his scent enlivening the space between us. It’s salt
and woodsmoke and something tropical, a hint of ripe fruit
in the sun. An undercurrent of sulfur. Fear. But in his mind,
I don’t sense fear for himself. I only see it tied to one word,
heavy as an anchor. Wyn. “I’m taking you to her. She needs
you.”
The vampire gives a shaky nod, and I pull him forward
with my free hand, keeping him blind to me and his
surroundings. We crunch across the broken glass, the
shards sliding through the sticky blood. I stop when we
reach the entrance to the kitchen. There is a Reaper here, I
whisper in his mind. He stiffens beneath my hand. If you
attack, he will kill you. Just go to Wynter.
The vampire swallows and I remove my hand, darting
backward as though releasing a venomous snake. He blinks
with confusion and I watch his eyes fall on Wynter, her
willowy frame draped over Mr. Hassan’s body as she begs
him to come back to life. The vampire’s face crumples for
just a moment, and then he drops to her side, wrapping his
big arms around her and turning her away from the cooling
body on the floor.
I glance at Ashen and hear a groan behind me. Ediye’s
limbs move slowly across the broken glass.
“Just stay still, Ediye. We’ll look after you,” I say, rushing
to her side to press the towels back down on the wound.
“Who are you?” the vampire asks from behind me.
“Who are you?” Ashen counters.
“Roman,” the vampire says after a long pause. “Roman
Bolosan.”
“Our injured friend is a witch. Ediye. I am Ashen of
House Urbigu. And that is my wife, Leucosia of
Anthemoessa, Queen of the Shadow Realm,” Ashen says. I
feel his pride warm the blue lines in my chest, twinkling the
gold in the crescent moon. I meet Ashen’s eyes through the
shafts of light and swirling curls of dust. His pride is
another demon, at least in the psalms of humankind. But to
me, Ashen’s pride is a bright star in his darkness, its light
reaching through centuries, barreling past obstacles,
slicing through shadow. It’s something Ashen owns,
something he cherishes. His love is his most precious art,
his pride like a sculpture that shouts that love into the
world, and how it could be a sin is beyond my
comprehension.
My eyes are still fused with Ashen’s when I notice the
slow beat of Roman’s vampire heart stutter in his chest.
“Leucosia?.. My maker is Cassian Agnello. But…he said you
were dead. Does he know you’re alive?”
I swallow another swell of pain that climbs my throat.
“Yes,” is all I can manage to whisper.
Wynter sniffles and garbles something inaudible as
Roman tries to soothe her. I catch only a few words in his
low, strained rumble. Original sirens. Safe with her. My
gaze doesn’t leave Ashen’s as I sink beneath the untruths in
Roman’s whispers, the evidence of it right there in the
cooling corpse at their side. I press my lips together and a
tear slides down my cheek as Ashen’s blade lowers at his
side, his face and shoulders falling as he takes a step
toward me.
Ediye stirs beneath my hand. I lift the towels and the
gash is still bleeding, though the flow has slowed. My palm
pushes the saturated cloth down on the cut and I lean in
close. Her limbs rake over the floor as though she’s taking
languid strokes in a calm sea.
“Lie still, Ediye,” I say.
“Nnnnnn. Nnmm. Luuuuu,” she groans from the floor,
her eyes fluttering but still closed.
 I glance over my shoulder at Ashen before putting the
full weight of my other palm to Ediye’s shoulder, trying to
keep her down and calm. I don’t want to creep into her
mind, afraid of the damage I could cause just trying to keep
her still. “It’s okay, Ediye. I’m right here. You’re safe now.”
Ediye’s eyes crack open. Her unfocused pupils graze
across my face with increasing pain and alarm. “Luuuu,”
she whispers, her tongue caught around the consonant, the
air in her lungs pausing on the vowel.
“That’s right, you badass bitch. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Ediye’s expression is not reassured.
Not in the least.
Panic takes over her eyes. A single star of her power
winks its light at me before falling into darkness.
I already know what she’s going to say before she says
it.
“R-run, Lu,” Ediye whispers, bracing against the pain as
her hand finds mine. She tries to push me away. “Nnn.
Nephilimmm. C-coming b-back.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 20

“G rab what you need. We have to move,” Ashen orders

to the others before striding toward me. He squats
down next to Ediye, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me
what supplies you require. I will gather them.”
Ediye starts slurring a list of ingredients. Rare herbs.
Distilled nectars. Stamens clipped from a night blooming
flower. Bones and feathers and claws, burnt and ground to
fine powder.
I leave them to it, rising to approach Wynter and Roman
as they search quickly through the undamaged ampules
and pouches, Roman pocketing some as they go.
“You said you need a Healer,” I say, and they exchange a
dark look before resuming their search.
“Yes,” Wynter replies.
“Ediye is a powerful Healer. She’ll need a few days to
recover, but she can help.”
“In exchange for what?”
“A Resurrectionist,” I say, my heart rioting as I watch
another wary glance flick between them. “We will pay. And
Mr. Hassan was going to bring materials for an angel to
endure the Shadow Realm. We want that too.”
Wynter’s red-rimmed, glassy eyes snap to mine in an
accusatory glare. A heated blush blooms beneath a
smattering of light freckles that dust her nose and
cheekbones. “Why? What are you planning to do to the
angel?”
Do to the angel. My blood heats in my veins. So this is
what it feels like. This is a taste of what Ashen endures, the
distrust at every turn, the loathing, no matter that you’re
trying to do the right thing or protect the ones you love. I
wouldn’t mind trying to smack those freckles right off her
pretty face. The red glow creeps into my eyes despite how
hard I wrestle with my rage. “The angel is family. Stop
assuming the worst before I lose interest in proving you
wrong.”
“You said you needed epiphyllum oxypetallum?” Ashen
interjects, and Wynter’s face loses all ferocity as her
attention shifts to the Reaper. I don’t miss the hint of
desperation in the quickening beat of her heart.
“Yes.”
“Excellent,” Ashen says, showing the label of the ampule
they’ve been searching for in his hand. His fingers curl
around the vial to hide it from view. His expression turns
menacing. My Reaper is clearly done with dicking around.
“We will give it to you once you’ve done as we’ve
requested. Get the other supplies we require and come
with us. Now.”
There’s no further argument, only action.
Wynter lists out materials with precision and efficiency
as Ashen and Roman gather them, putting everything into
Ashen’s backpack. I stride over to a bookcase on the far
side of the room, looking through the titles on the
desiccated leather covers of the oldest volumes. Greek
philosophers. Roman ledgers. Egyptian incantations. And
one, bound in rich brown leather and a layer of filmy
preservative, the title in Sumerian. Amagi Dugnamtar.
Book of the Fatespeaker.
Well. That’s about as close as I’ll probably get.
I pull the ancient volume from the shelf and slide my
jacket off to wrap the delicate manuscript before starting
back toward the others. I halt by the entrance of the
kitchen where Mr. Hassan lays motionless. Clutching the
book to my chest, I drift as though pulled toward him, even
though I’m afraid to see what’s left of the empty shell that
once held a warm and caring soul. When I stop at his side, I
kneel, knowing I’ll never forget a single line on his resting
face, or the way his lips are parted as though ready to
exhale a breath that will never come. I’ll always remember
the way the blood has dried at the corner of his mouth,
smearing across his cheek.
Good luck, shakhs shabun. I will keep you in my
thoughts, he said to me once.
“Good luck, old man,” I whisper as I place a kiss to his
forehead. “You’ll be in my thoughts too.”
I turn away and join the others in the living room just as
Ashen picks Ediye up, shards of broken glass tinkling
across the floor as they drop from her arms and hair like
rain. I stuff the book in Ashen’s backpack and grab the
helmet, casting a wary glance to Roman and Wynter, the
vampire’s arm tense where it rests behind her back.
Just as we’re about to walk out the door there’s a sound
above us. My heart lodges in my throat.
They’re on the roof.
“Move,” Ashen hisses and we bolt down the stairs. We
make it to the bottom before we hear the door to the roof
open several stories above us. People stare as we burst
onto the street with our injured friend cradled in Ashen’s
arms, but they part from the demon like water as he slides
through the crowded market. Every step we take makes us
harder to find, and soon we lose sight of the building
behind us with no one on our heels. At least not yet.
“We need to split them up,” I whisper, leaning close to
Ashen in the hopes the street noise will drown my words
from Roman’s keen vampire hearing. “We’ll put Ediye in a
cab with the vampire. You take Wynter on one bike, I’ll take
the backpack with me on the other.”
 Ashen nods. I know he already hates this plan. I can feel
his worry erupting in my chest. I can’t say I love it either.
But we both know we can’t keep those two together.
Splitting them up is the safest option if we want to hold
them to their word.
“If anything happens, Lu, you need to get to the Shadow
Realm and shut the corridor. I will make sure the Nephilim
don’t take you.”
This stubborn demon.
I won’t leave this realm without him. I won’t.
I glare at Ashen and he glares right back.
My jaw tightens. His brow creases.
My cheeks heat. His pupils flame.
A coil of need snakes low in my belly as Ashen’s gaze
drops to my lips. Danger and desire twist like twin serpents
in my chest.
“S-stop eye fucking and just p-promise not to lose one
another,” Ediye slurs from Ashen’s arms.
I smile, and Ashen does too. He gives me a nod and I
give one back. That’s all the promise I need.
Ashen’s eyes don’t leave mine as we stop at the bikes,
calling over his shoulder for the others to hail a cab. Roman
waves one down and Ashen breaks away to speak to the
driver in Arabic as he slides Ediye into the back seat.
I hand the helmet to Wynter and she pauses before
taking it. “Roman, ride with Ediye. Wynter, you’re with
Ashen.” Wynter’s mouth pops open to argue but she shuts
it when I give her a fierce, glowing red glare. “That’s my
best friend in there,” I say as I point to the cab, shifting my
gaze to the vampire. “Keep her safe.”
Roman gives Wynter a long, conflicted look as he shakes
his head. “I can’t—”
“You can. You will. Ashen will look after Wynter. I
promise you.”
“It’s okay, Rome,” Wynter says. Her lips are set in a
resolute line. The fear in her eyes is equal to her
determination. Roman swallows a deep breath before
squeezing Wynter’s arm. It looks as though it takes
everything in his soul to turn away, confusion following him
in Wynter’s expression as he goes. A last, fleeting look
passes between them as he slides into the passenger seat
and the taxi pulls from the curb.
“All right, vampire?”
Those words reel me right in. My flighty gaze stops
hunting for anyone moving too quickly, anyone looking at
us too long, anyone out of place. It comes to rest in Ashen’s
cognac eyes, lit with the afternoon sun. I realize for the
first time how much cognac is like copper. Diluted, liquid
copper. Rich and warm. The world shrinks and grows, both
at the same time. All I see is him. And all I feel is
everything good the world still has to give.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
Ashen catches a lock of my hair and twists it, denying
the wind of more chaos. He tucks it between the other
strands gripped tight by my ponytail. “Safe driving. If
anyone gives you trouble, just remember the second most
important truth.”
“What’s that?”
“You cannot pilot a submarine.”
I guffaw an incredulous laugh. Ashen’s eyes brighten as
a devious smile breaks through his stoic facade. “How is
that supposed to help me?”
Ashen lifts a shoulder, then pulls the first strap of the
backpack up my arm. “You are competitive and motivated
by spite. I know you’ll do anything to one-up me, even if it
means killing a contingent of Nephilim to survive just so
you can learn how to be a better submarine pilot than me.”
“You know me so well.” The next strap slides up my arm,
then Ashen is standing before me, tugging the loose ends
tight as the sphere hums against my spine. “And what’s the
first most important truth?”
 Ashen stills. The world is no longer the city that
surrounds us. It’s not the creatures who hunt us. It’s not
the strangers who judge us. It’s just him and me. He takes
a step closer, folding his hand behind my neck, his palm
warm against my skin. “That you are loved beyond
measure, my wife.”
I reach up and frame Ashen’s face with my palms. My
gaze shifts between his eyes. “I adore you, Ashen of House
Urbigu.” The worried tension softens in Ashen’s face as I
pull him into a kiss, the heat and need and hope bright
enough to make up for how short this moment needs to be.
We part before it seems fair. I don’t feel ready, but I smile
and try not to show it. “I love you. Drive safe, my sexy
submarine pilot husband. And take care of her,” I say,
nodding toward Wynter as she watches us with clinical
interest, as though trying to solve a complex equation. “I
promised her boyfriend you would.”
A fiery blush flares up Wynter’s throat and into her
cheeks. “He’s not my—”
“I will deliver her back to her lover safely, my vampire,”
Ashen says with a conspiratorial smile before pressing his
lips to mine once more. When we part, we turn to our
bikes, swinging our legs over our machines. Ashen is an
adorable combination of demonic sexiness and deep
discomfort as Wynter slides behind him and wraps her
arms around his waist. He scowls at my amused grin and
we start our bikes and then we’re off, chasing after the taxi
in a sea of vehicles.
We weave through the chaos, speeding down Gawhar El
Qaed Street, flowing as though swept in the current of
buses and taxis and motorcycles and scooters. It doesn’t
take long to catch up with Roman and Ediye’s cab, the
plate number burned into my memory. Roman turns in the
front seat to look at us through the rear window, the relief
almost palpable through the glass.
 After several turns, the traffic thins a little and we’re
able to pick up speed. Every cross-street we pass fuels the
hope that burns hot in my chest that we’ve left the
Nephilim behind.
But it doesn’t last.
Roman turns suddenly in his seat, his arm outstretched
toward us, his warning swallowed by the cacophony of
engines and horns. The fire of hope snuffs out as I scream
Ashen’s name.
I downshift and pull the throttle back to speed between
the taxi and a bus to the right of the cab. Ashen does the
same and veers to the left just as a white sedan barrels into
the back of the taxi, lurching it forward. The taxi slows and
I hear both Ashen and Roman yelling at the driver to keep
going. The sedan hits the cab again, aiming for the left side
of the bumper. The taxi drifts to the right with the angle of
the impact. I slow just before the front-end wedges me
against the bus. I hear Ashen’s voice through the blaring
horns and the yelling of bystanders on the bus.
“Go, Lu!”
When I look over, he’s reaching through the taxi driver’s
window to pull the steering wheel toward him. I glance
over my shoulder as the sedan speeds up for another hit,
catching only a glimpse of a masked figure before I look
ahead to the narrow space between the bus and the car.
I downshift again and speed through the gap as the
sound of crunching metal chases my rear tire.
It’s me the Nephilim want. Me and what’s in my
backpack.
I need to lead them away. I rev the throttle and speed
ahead, weaving through traffic. I spare one quick glance
over my shoulder at Ashen, and then I surge between the
cars, knowing the sedan will muscle through sooner or
later to find me.
I speed forward, trying to put distance between us. The
sounds of blaring car horns and folding metal chase after
me as the sedan presses on through the fray of traffic. I
don’t look back, keeping my focus on a bus several cars
ahead on my left. When I reach it, I slip in front, my rear
tire only an inch or two from its bumper. The deafening
honk bellows at me as I drift to the left side and then drop
back so that I’m parallel with the driver, hidden by the
blocky hunk of battered steel. The sedan’s driver can’t see
me where I keep pace next to the bus, wedged in tight
between it and the oncoming traffic.
The melody of honking and disgruntled yelling grows
closer. Passengers in the bus twist and crane their heads to
the right. The bus driver yells, gesturing to what is surely
the sedan pushing through the traffic to catch up.
I replace my right hand on the throttle with my left, then
reach for the mirror of the bus and grip on to the steel. I let
the bike fall away, the handlebars hitting my thighs as it
loses speed and careens behind me. The driver meets my
eye in a moment that seems so still and calm within the
sound of frantic honking and crashing metal as my bike
flips into the traffic behind us.
And then I hurtle myself through the window, hitting the
button for the driver’s safety belt. I push him off his seat
and take over the controls to careen the bus into the sedan.
Passengers scream behind me. A wave of car horns and
chaos flow from beyond the windows. I slam my foot down
on the accelerator and ram the car one more time, crushing
it into the smashed vehicles lining the next lane.
I feel the fleeting wave of relief through my mark as
Ashen pulls up to the side of the bus, the taxi next in line
behind him. They slide to a halt and Ashen whirls Wynter
off the bike, passing her to Roman as soon as the passenger
door of the cab flies open.
“Take her. There is no safety for any of us in this realm.
We must get to the Shadow Realm. Meet us at the house.
I’m taking my wife,” he barks at the vampire. Roman nods,
looking relieved as he hauls Wynter in with him, bracing
her on his lap as Ashen gives instructions to the worried
driver and placates him with a wad of cash as he flashes
more in promise of a payment to come. I get on the bike
behind Ashen and grip his waist as he revs the throttle. “No
more separating.”
“Agreed. Bad idea. I think you’ve probably just done
Roman a solid anyway.”
Ashen scoffs as the taxi speeds past us and we follow
into the clogged traffic, not looking back to see if the
Nephilim driver made it out of the crumpled sedan. We
weave from lane to lane and before long we’re into the
suburbs where the roads are clearer. When we get to the
house, Roman pulls Ediye from the back seat of the taxi
and we pay the driver a thick wad of cash for emotional
damage before rushing inside, heading straight for the
courtyard. Ashen lights the stones of the cauldron and
takes Ediye from the vampire so I can guide the two
newcomers through the portal to the Shadow Realm first.
As soon as Ashen and Ediye are through behind us, guards
shut the lid of the cauldron.
We’re still breathing heavily, casting our glances to one
another as members of the Shub Lugal surround us, swords
pointed to the two newcomers, their eyes on me, awaiting
instruction.
“My Queen?” one of the guards asks.
I straighten. I dust off my hands and clear my mind,
squaring my shoulders. I take a step away from the
cauldron, Ashen closing ranks behind me. “Shub Lugal.
Give our guests a warm welcome to the Shadow Realm.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 21

W ynter takes a room to work on patching up Ediye,

the quiet murmur of their voices filtering over the
sound of Roman’s knife as he nervously whittles a tiny
piece of wood. He’s stationed himself in a chair across the
hall, he and Urtur stealing wary glances at one another
until the jackal grows bored and lies down on the rug in
front of the unlit hearth. When Cyrus strides in with Eryx,
Davina, Cole, and Aglaope in tow, it’s a welcome relief from
the tense silence that’s taken over the suite.
“Where’s Ediye?” Eryx asks through gritted teeth, the
burn of the Shadow Realm coating his skin in a sheen of
sweat. Cole squeezes the angel’s steaming hand and I give
them a worried smile as I point to the door.
“Thanks, both of you. Thank you for looking after our
girl,” Cole says, and then the two lumber away down the
hall. I can’t help the puppy eyes and pouty look I shoot at
Ashen as the angel and demon pass a stunned-looking
Roman to enter the bedroom.
“Our girl. I love them,” I whisper as I settle back under
Ashen’s arm.
“For an acerbic vampire, you are soft on the inside, my
wife,” Ashen murmurs into my hair, my chest brimming
with light.
 “It’s an angel and a demon and a witch. What’s not to
love about a demglowstickelwitchelwich?”
“A dem…glow…what?”
“You two,” I say to Aglaope and Davina, both standing as
still and cold as ice statues. Jeez. Not awkward at all. A
nervous flutter twists against my ribs. “Come on. Let’s have
a chat and get some things out in the open.”
Aglaope and Davina shoot a wary glance at one another
and walk around opposite ends of the couch across from
Ashen and me. We sit in tense silence as I think about
where to begin, and I’ve nearly wrangled my thoughts
when a flash of white catches my eye at the window. A
large, scaly body drifts past the French doors. The
underside of Zida’s serpentine head slides up the window
with a long, loud squeak. Urtur’s tail thumps against the
rug, a metronomic percussion to Zida’s scales.
“The snake wants in,” Ashen says, his eyes glinting with
suppressed amusement as I rub my temples. Zida slides to
the next window, another loud squeak vibrating through
the glass.
I groan as Zida slides along a third window before
backtracking toward the pool. I hear a splash as her giant
head hits the surface. “Goddammit, I really wanted to have
a bath tonight, and now it’s going to smell like snake.”
Ashen gives my leg a squeeze and stands, heading to the
French doors with Urtur on his heels to sort out the unruly
serpent. I turn my attention to the two women as Ashen
barks muffled orders to the disobedient snake and Urtur
just…barks. “So, it seems like we all have a few things in
common,” I say, trying to keep my eyes from drifting
toward the sound of an angry hiss on the patio. “A demigod,
for one. Aglaope, I know you struck a deal with Davina to
harvest the body of the demigod. Who struck a deal with
you to kill him?”
Aglaope is motionless, her back straight and her black
hair draped over one shoulder in a glossy cascade. “He
gave me the name Sessum. But I did not see his face. He
was masked. He said I would be paid handsomely to deliver
the harvested blood, heart and bones, provided they were
retrieved by a Scythe and processed by an apothecary
according to strict instruction.”
“Why did he not kill this demigod himself?”
“I know not.”
“Did he say what he was going to do with the harvest?”
“He did not.”
“Great.” I try to suppress my growing irritation. A
headache rises through my temples and skitters across my
skull. “Where is the material you harvested, did you give it
to him?”
“I never had the chance,” Aglaope says, her eyes sliding
toward the window where Ashen struggles to convince the
snake out of the pool. She looks next at Davina before
returning her gaze to me. “I had captured the warlock
Barbossa Sarno when he passed Anthemoessa, then
travelled to Évora to kill the demigod. She portalled me
home and was then meant to harvest the body,” she says
with a tilt of her head in Davina’s direction. “The Reapers
were upon me before we could make any exchange.”
“Davina?..”
“I took it to an apothecary named Franca Duarte with a
sealed letter from Aglaope containing instructions for the
next steps,” Davina replies. Her eyes don’t leave mine, even
when Aglaope turns her penetrating gaze to drill at the side
of Davina’s face. “It was so long ago. I don’t know if she
still has it.”
“Any idea what was in the letter?” I ask, looking back
and forth between them. Both women shake their heads.
“Do you know why a masked man, presumably a Nephilim,
would want this harvest?”
“No,” they reply in unison.
I sigh as Ashen strides in, grumbling something about
too many fucking pets as Zida slides through the door after
him, leaving a wet serpentine trail across the floor. “We
need to find an apothecary named Franca Duarte,” I call to
him as he pours a glass of fangria from a pitcher and brings
it over to me. His eyes narrow before he turns and heads
back to the sideboard to gather glasses and a bottle of
bourbon.
“That might take time.”
“I figured.”
“I mean, your time,” he says, casting a glance over his
shoulder. “Ember reaped her soul a few centuries ago.
She’s here…somewhere.”
A groan rumbles in my throat as I take a long sip of my
drink and lean my head against the back of the couch.
Ashen passes my way to lean over it and press kiss to my
forehead with an apologetic smile before heading toward
Roman to intrude on his vigil outside the door.
I turn my attention back to Davina and Aglaope as a
heavy blanket of weariness settles into my bones.
“Whatever the masked man wanted with the harvest, he
either has the material already or he’s in the same boat as
us, so we’ll have to leave it for now. We’ll search when we
can, but we have a greater problem with the stones. The
Nephilim obviously want those with urgency,” I say, zeroing
all my attention on the two women before me, even despite
the snake sliding behind my couch. “In the meantime, I
know it feels like barely any time has passed for the both of
you. I don’t know what kinds of conversations you had back
then or since you’ve seen each other again. All I ask now is
that you make space for one another while you’re here. You
mean a lot to me,” I say, my eyes landing on Davina. “Both
of you.”
Davina gives me a relieved smile, and Aglaope a look of
pride with a demure bow of her head.
“Cyrus, can you please show my sister to her quarters?”
I ask, and Aglaope hesitates for a moment before standing
to follow Cyrus out the door. When she’s gone and out of
vampire earshot, I sit forward a little on the couch, for
some reason a bit more relaxed now that she’s gone. The
truth is, I don’t really know what she was up to in the days
before Ember stole her soul, and I feel unsettled by it.
Oddly, I’m more comfortable with Davina on her own,
which makes no sense as she was up to some shady shit too
in her final days. And yet, when I look at her as she is now,
still sore from the loss of Cassian, out of place in every
realm, I feel a certain warmth for her that fuels my next
words. “I have a favor. It’s a big one. But you can say no,
and I won’t hold it against you. I promise.”
Davina swallows and presses her thumb into her fist, the
only outward sign of her nerves. “Okay…”
“I want to be able to bring more souls back in the same
way that you were returned. I can see impressions of what
kinds of creatures the souls once were, but I can’t make
them whole. We need a Resurrectionist to do that. Since I
killed Imogen, there is no one who can.”
Davina’s eyes widen as she works out what I’m angling
for. “You want me to be the Resurrectionist?”
“Yes. Cole volunteered, but…” I trail off as I look toward
the hallway where Ashen sits with Roman. My gaze shifts
back to Davina and I swallow. “It’s not so much because I
want to protect Cole from too much responsibility. He has
an important role to play on the Council, if he accepts. It’s
that you are the one person here that knows what the souls
of the Shadow Realm have experienced. I think you could
help to guide them in a way no one else can. And I want
you to know that you have a place here, and it’s more than
what was done to you.”
Davina’s eyes are the brightest I’ve seen them in weeks.
They may have a bit of a shine, but she blinks it away
before I can be sure. “Yes. I will do it.”
“Are you sure about this, Davina? It’s not the kind of
thing that you can easily walk away from. Once you do this,
it’s for a long time. Maybe all time.”
 “I know.” Davina stands, her shoulders a little straighter
than moments before. She smiles. “I won’t let us down.”
Davina leaves for her room in House Urbigu and I watch
her go, then sit in almost peaceful silence aside from the
sound of scales sliding across fabric as Zida’s giant wet
head drifts over the back of the couch. I watch Ashen and
Roman conversing in hushed tones down the hall, Ashen
refilling the newcomer’s drink as they talk. After a while,
Eryx and Cole exit the room, Eryx looking much relieved
from his earlier torment. Cole stays in the hall to whisper
with the other men as Eryx joins me in the living room, the
razor-sharp plumage of his wings folding beneath him as he
sits across from me.
“Cool snake,” he says as Zida flicks her tongue in his
direction with a metronomic cadence.
“Yeah, she’s great when she’s not making the pool dirty,”
I reply, which earns me a low, disgruntled hiss. I turn my
attention away from Zida’s shifting white scales and train
my gaze to Eryx. He seems weary, but relieved. “Are you
okay?”
“Better now,” he says with a smile as he holds up his
wrists. Black bands glow in his skin. Contentment falls over
his face as he leans his head back against his wings.
“Ediye’s going to be okay.”
“I know,” I say as I smile and nod. “I’m glad you’re
here.”
Eryx grins, though he looks much less vibrant and
glittery than usual. “I’m not sure I can say the same yet,
you know? I never thought I’d be in the Shadow Realm.”
“I know what you mean. A few short weeks ago, I didn’t
really think I’d be back, and look at me now,” I say,
throwing my arms wide, patting Zida’s head next to me.
She gives me an annoyed hiss.
Eryx snorts a laugh. He crosses his arms over his chest
and we smile at one another. “Guess it’s a good thing
Wynter was able to sort me out. It sounds like it might be
best to stay put for a few days given what happened to you
in Cairo. I’m sure the Nephilim must be lurking, watching
as many corridors to the Shadow Realm as they can find.”
“Yeah,” I reply with a furrowed brow. “We’ll let it die
down for a few days. I do need your help though. We need
to see if you can find records about the Nephilim in the
Realm of Light. Do you know where those might be held?”
Eryx nods. “I do. There’s a library in the ziggurat of
Esagila. I can check there. If anyone asks, I can say I want
to brush up on the classics.”
A huff of a laugh passes my lips, my chest feeling lighter
as we exchange a smile. “About time, Glitterballs.”
We both hear Ashen and Roman laugh down the hall at
something shared in their own quiet conversation and turn
toward the sound before eyeing one another in surprise.
“That’s rare,” Eryx says.
“No kidding.”
The lightness in Eryx’s expression fades as his eyes
search mine. “He was a mess when you were gone.”
“I know,” I reply with a melancholy smile. “I saw the
whole…wait, does Ediye’s angel-no-fainty spell still work on
you?”
“I’m not sure, actually, I—”
“Let’s just assume it does, because it was super cool. I
snuck into the room when I got back and Ashen had
another demon’s bottom jaw ripped clean off, like head in
one hand, jaw in the other, blood everywhere kinda deal.
And I was all like ‘dude, you’ve been busy’, and he was all
like ‘my Lu, ohmigoddddd’, and then he cried but he’ll
swear he didn’t and it was so hot.” I narrow my eyes at the
angel and he looks a bit perturbed, but otherwise fine.
“Damn, I thought the jaw thing would do it.”
“Guess not, LuLu. Isn’t Ediye the best?”
I look toward the hallway where the voices have gone
quiet from behind the door. Only Ashen and Roman’s
whispering flows toward us now, and the periodic shing of
Roman’s blade against the wood. “Yeah. She really is.”
Eryx’s wings clink as he settles deeper into the couch.
“So are you,” he says as his eyelids grow heavy when he
yawns.
“And so are you.”
Our warm smiles fade with the heavy press of
exhaustion. I lean against Zida’s muscular body, folding my
arms across her scales. Eryx and I fall into silence, and
then into sleep, me into dreams of walls and stones, fates
and foes.
My dreams clear with the feeling of hands sliding
beneath the weight of my body. I hear a quiet hiss and
smell Zida’s scales mixed with unsmoked tobacco.
“Hush, snake. She’s mine,” Ashen whispers.
Zida hisses once more as I’m lifted into Ashen’s arms
and carried away. I start to fall back asleep with my face
pressed against his chest. His kiss warms my forehead.
“She’s my Queen. My wife.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 22

“M y sister married and mated. How does it feel?”

Aglaope asks as we stand together in the shadows
of a balcony. It’s been only a day since our escape from the
Nephilim in Cairo, and already my wedding seems like it
happened a week ago. I make a mental note to ask Imani if
there’s any such thing as Shadow Realm honeymoon
destinations. I smirk as I imagine the travel brochures she
could provide. Come for the fog! Stay for more fog. Creepy
tripod not-dogs included.
“Kind of surreal, I guess,” I answer honestly with a
shrug. “Like we haven’t had a chance to just settle into any
state of normalcy yet. Or maybe batshit crazy is our new
normal, I don’t know.”
Aglaope’s lyrical laugh warms the space between us.
“‘Batshit crazy’? I think it will take me some time to adjust
to that imagery.”
We share a smile as I scrutinize her features, looking for
any hint of discomfort or weariness, but I find none, even
though I imagine it must be a hard process to adjust to a
world that has changed so much over time. “What about
you? What do you feel, being here as a whole person and
not a reaped soul?” I ask.
“Many things, I think,” Aglaope says. “Sometimes, it
feels like the echo of a nightmare, the kind that clings to
you long after you wake.” I gnaw at the edge of my lip as I
nod, looking away until Aglaope’s hand runs down the
length of my arm and she smiles. “But other times, I feel as
though I am in a dream. Seeing you once more, and so
happy, it fills my heart with warmth.”
We break our gazes from one another and look down at
the sounds of battle practice in the circular courtyard
below. We’re in building called Imhas, meaning ‘strike’. I
smile as I recall Ashen’s response when I questioned the
translation for Bit Akalum, or ‘House of Food’. ‘Does what it
says on the tin,’ he’d said. Much like Imhas.
The training yard we overlook is free of the obstruction
of fog, protected from the rolling mist by a glass domed
roof. There are three floors of balconies rising above the
rust-colored sand where the elite Shub Lugal soldiers flow
through a sequence of drills. The courtyard has been
divided into quarters, and every fifteen minutes, the
soldiers rotate to the next quadrant to complete their
exercises. In one, they spar in hand-to-hand combat, no
weapons. In another, they train with swords, pairing up to
strike at one another in graceful, sweeping manoeuvres. In
the third, the soldiers stand side-by-side near the center of
the circle to shoot arrows at targets lining the stone wall.
At the fourth and final quadrant, they practice tai chi,
which is both unexpected and beautiful among the
controlled violence of the other sections. Ashen and Cyrus
travel the circle, working with a handful of other high-
ranking soldiers to coach the Shub Lugal through their
drills.
I watch Ashen’s lethal form as he weaves through the
groups while I lean against a pillar of black marble, sipping
a cup of warmed, spiced blood from a thermos I’m sharing
with my sister. There’s a long silence between us and it’s
lost some of the comfort I remember from a long time ago.
Back in the day, we used to sit with no words between us
for hours on the beach, waiting for ships to pass. Our
silence used to feel sacred. Aglaope’s quiet presence, the
waves crashing against the cliffs that flanked us, the sound
of gulls…it was a gentle hymn, even without our enchanted
voices. Now, it’s as though that sea has crept between us in
our years apart, and all I want to do is cross the gulf to
recapture all that time we’ve lost. But I’ve lived so much in
those centuries, done so many things that might only sweep
us further away from one another. And she’s suffered a hell
I cannot understand, in a place I’m now supposed to lead,
though I’m still not sure how.
A heavy, thoughtful sigh passes my lips as I turn away
from the scene below to face my sister. “This is probably
the very opposite of what you expected from me.”
Aglaope tilts her head, regarding me with her
inscrutable onyx gaze. “You mean, your status here in the
Shadow Realm?”
I nod, looking down into my cup as I swirl the blood
within its confines. “Yes. But not just that. It’s everything.
The friends I’ve made. The love I’ve found. The path I took
to get here.” It takes a long moment before I can meet her
eyes. “When you saved me on Anthemoessa, I did as you
asked. I took the sword you fell with and went to where you
had trapped Barbossa Sarno. He gave me a spell in
exchange for his freedom. When I got back your cottage,
there was a Reaper there. I killed him. But it was a
mistake.”
My gaze falls away to the courtyard. Though the Shub
Lugal live separately from the Houses in their own
barracks, surely some of them must have once been
assigned to House Mushussu at one time. Some would have
known Hakan. Maybe ate with him at Bit Akalum. Maybe
they danced with him to Tessa’s haunting voice.
I’m sure Hakan meted out as much sorrow and fear as
any demon, but my mistake still burns like a hot pin in my
chest. When I first realized I killed the wrong Reaper, that
regret only stung out of worry of being caught as a bounty
here, especially with the very real threat of Ember hanging
over my neck like a guillotine. But now? Now, I look at the
demons and wonder where their darkness came from. If
they ever wanted it. Maybe it’s not really just their nature.
Maybe the weight of all our misconceptions keeps them
trapped in the shadows they never asked for.
Aglaope says nothing, just waits as I swallow down these
thoughts that seem to dry my tongue and dampen my
lashes. “Barbossa sold me out to the Shadow Realm years
later,” I say, my voice low. “Ediye helped me fake my death
to escape the reaping. I killed Sarno, eventually. When the
time was right.”
“Do you regret it?” my sister asks as she takes my hand.
“No,” I say. “I don’t.” And I can’t reconcile it with what I
feel now about my other actions. I still think he deserved it,
and every time I see Bobby’s face in memory, laughing at
me through the flames as I suffered at the stake, the
satisfaction of his death between my hands is like a
soothing balm for the burns that seem imprinted on my
soul. But maybe we all deserve to die, in the end. I’m the
villain in his family’s story, after all.
“Ashen told me what Barbossa’s father and the
werewolves did to you in their revenge,” Aglaope says, as
though my thoughts have blended with hers. “I am truly
sorry, sister. I did not realize that the ripples of my actions
would cause so much harm to you, when all I ever hoped
for was to protect you.”
I turn to Aglaope fully, holding her stoic gaze. “Why did
you do it, sister? Why did you make that deal with a
masked man and then Davina? What did you hope to
gain?”
Aglaope’s eyes shift between mine, as though she’s
checking for something she seems to decide she can’t find
behind them. There’s a melancholy slant to her smile when
she lets go of my hand to bring it to my cheek, tracing my
skin with affection. “Our freedom.”
 “I don’t understand. We left Anthemoessa whenever we
wanted, when we had the means. We could go where we
pleased.”
“But without our memories, we were never truly free,”
she says, her voice colored with a note of determination as
though her aim never died all those years ago when she
did. “We have always been trapped by the absence of our
origins. Why were we left there? Why did our families
abandon us? Were we always immortal creatures, or did
they make us that way? What if we were supposed to fulfil
a greater purpose that we could not remember? Without
truly knowing, I always felt that we were in danger. The
other vampires we created when we left the island, they
were never as powerful as us. They were never the same.”
Aglaope looks down to the courtyard. Arrows whistle to the
targets. Swords clank and crash against one another.
Grains of sand abrade the soles of heavy boots. Aglaope is
the only one here who hears the symphony like I do. “I
wanted to be sure we could be truly free. When Sessum
offered me that in compensation, I could not refuse.”
A drum sounds below from a hidden recess in the
shadows and the soldiers rotate clockwise to the next
quadrant. Ashen follows the group who were practicing
with the bows, glancing up at the balconies. He can feel my
presence and looks in our direction, but he can’t see us. I
step just a little into the light and he gives me a slight nod,
a hint of a smile that I return as I lean against a pillar, the
cool stone pleasant against my temple. Aglaope comes
forward to stand beside me and we watch as the next round
of drills begin.
“I got this for you,” Aglaope says as she lays a small,
forest green box on the railing. “A wedding gift.”
I look to my sister, and she smiles as I take it and open
the box. A gold ring rests in the center, a square cut
amethyst stone surrounded by salt and pepper diamonds
that match my engagement ring. “It’s beautiful,” I say as I
slide it on the ring finger of my right hand.
“Ashen allowed me to go to Anthemoessa with a guard to
bring back amethyst from the cliffs on the west side of the
island. Do you remember the gems there?”
I laugh as I look down at the polished stone, turning my
hand in the light. “Of course. Parthenope used to make
those beautiful earrings from them with the gold she
scavenged from the sailors she killed.” I hold my hand in a
fist close to my heart. “Thank you, sister. I love it.”
Ashen glances toward us. I hold my hand up and twinkle
my fingers. He flashes a brief smile before focusing back on
coaching the group practicing with their swords.
“A Reaper in love with a vampire,” Aglaope says with a
grin as she shakes her head. “Only you would wind up in
such a circumstance and get away with it.”
“I do love getting away with things.”
Aglaope chuckles. “I know, sister. You always have.
Perhaps some things do not change, no matter how much
time passes.”
A whistle sounds from below, its pitch different from the
other arrows.
My sister’s grip is a vice on my wrist. The cup falls from
my hand, spilling blood and the scent of cardamom and
honey and anise across the floor, spattering across my
shoes. Aglaope wrenches me toward her as an arrow lodges
in the pillar where my head had been leaning, the shaft
swaying, the stone cracked beneath its silver point.
My eyes are wide when I meet Aglaope’s gaze. The red
vampiric gleam of protective rage shines back in hers.
Chaos erupts below and breaks the spell of fear and fury
between us. We turn to the yard just as Cyrus kicks the
back of a demon’s legs, sending him to his knees in the
dust of the archers’ quarter as soldiers with swords and
arrows point to my attacker. Ashen stalks toward the
demon, the aggressor’s mouth twisted in a bloody grin from
someone’s punch.
The rage I feel from Ashen is a mirror of my own. It’s
reflecting beneath my skin, heating my flesh. Crimson light
films my vision. I fold my hands into fists and press them to
the stone railing. “Gassan tiildibba me zi ab,” I yell into the
courtyard. My voice fills the space like a cauldron. I smash
my fist against the stone. “Alsi kunusi.”
Queen that gives life to the dying.
I have called upon you.
Flame erupts on Ashen’s sword and smoke surrounds
him, but through it we still see the slash of his blade across
the demon’s stomach. The man screams, that grin twisting
into agony as Ashen reaches into the wound and pulls out a
handful of viscera. Intestines tumble into the dust and
Ashen grabs my attacker’s hair with his bloody hand,
forcing the demon to look down as he then grinds his
organs beneath the heel of his boot. Ashen whispers
something to the demon that I can’t hear, the sound
drowned by the man’s distress. The Reaper shoves the
aggressor to the ground. Zida rushes from the shadows,
Ashen moving out of her path as she draws back and
strikes the man across the chest. She draggs him through
the circle toward an arched door, his intestines trailing in
their wake like pink rope as his weakening wails climb the
stone walls.
I meet Ashen’s gaze, the waning fear in his eyes coloring
their depths with a brighter flame than rage. I try to give
him a reassuring smile, but I can’t seem to bring it to life.
“Perhaps some things cannot change, no matter how
much we wish them to,” Aglaope says.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 23

T here’s not much that we can do as Ediye heals and

regains her power, and when she wakes she has
nothing that leads us closer to understanding the next
moves of the Nephilim following the attack at Mr. Hassan’s.
Wynter and Roman are given a suite they rarely venture
from, and Wynter has made it clear no Resurrectionist will
be provided until Ediye recuperates enough to spellcast for
whatever healing services she and Roman require. And
until we get our Resurrectionist, the Council will not be
complete, though I do manage to secure Cole as my lead
advisor. Between Ediye’s recovery and the attack at the
training ground, I’ve been keeping a low profile, and Ashen
grows restless between interrogating anyone remotely
related to the archer and the hidden threat of the Nephilim
still lurking in the Living Realm. While I spend the days in
Ediye’s suite as she steadily improves, he stalks the
Shadow Realm with a surly iron fist. His disquiet rests in
my lapis and gold mark like an ember, always burning.
It’s late on the third day of Ediye’s recovery when I
return home with Urtur at my heels, entering a dark and
quiet suite. I stand unmoving for a moment in the silent
space, feeling a little unsettled by the weight of everything
that needs to be done but the inability to actually do it. I
pour a glass of fangria from the jug in the fridge and settle
on the couch with the Book of the Fatespeaker on my lap,
trying to make sense of the weathered pages, the ancient
symbols, the random sections of translations from Dingir to
Sumerian or Latin. But truthfully, it’s hard to make much
headway learning a new language or deciphering ancient
incantations with this sense of restlessness lapping at my
bones.
It might seem a little surprising, but it’s very a welcome
interruption when Ashen bursts through the door like a
true fallen angel, all smoke and sparks and bottomless fury.
The door slams shut behind him and Urtur’s tail thumps
against the fur rug as though this is all perfectly normal.
I shut my book and watch as Ashen unstraps the
scabbard from his body and thunks the sword onto a side
table with a tense fist. He stalks to the sideboard, his
snakeskin wings fluttering behind him as he moves within a
cloudy black haze. He pulls a tumbler from the shelf,
pouring a glass of brandy that he downs and immediately
replenishes.
“Good day?” I ask with a sly smile as I set the book on
the coffee table and sit up, uncrossing my legs. Ashen
scowls at me over this edge of his glass, bright crimson
rings surrounding the black flame that burns in his pupils.
My smile broadens. “I see the wings are back. To whom
shall I relay my thanks?”
“Duman,” Ashen says, spitting the name out as though
it’s rotten on his tongue.
My head tilts, my eyes narrowing. “Duman? From House
Mushussu?” Ashen nods once, finishing his drink only to fill
it once more. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He was put out by the lack of a hunt this year.”
“Hunt? Hunting what?”
Ashen levels me with a look that says ‘you don’t want to
know’. My guess would be crawlers, though who knows
what other prey lurks in the fog. “Duman got drunk in Bit
Akalum and decided to take matters into his own hands. He
released all the hyenas. I have spent the last few hours
with Cyrus rounding them up.”
“Why didn’t you come and get me? I could have
helped.”
“No,” Ashen says, the fury flaring in his eyes. “It should
not be up to you to sort out the childish behavior of those
demons who cannot fall in line.”
Rage and frustration flow from Ashen and coat the
room, even when he takes another drink, the liquor doing
nothing to dull his agitation. He paces and glares at the
window, the door, the ceiling, anywhere but me. Which,
naturally, is exactly where I want it. All that danger and
desire should really have a focal point, and vampires make
very willing targets. Very willing.
“Why don’t you put all that fury to better use, demon?” I
ask, trying to keep the wicked smile from my lips. Ashen
darts a glance at me, not breaking his irritated stride.
“I have no interest in ripping his limbs off for a second
time tonight,” Ashen growls.
“That’s not what I meant.” Ashen stills at the low timbre
of my voice and stops to really look at me. I stand from the
couch and grasp the hem of my shirt, sliding it up my body
and over my head. I drop it to the floor as I take a step
closer to the fuming demon, his eyes darkening as they
latch onto my body. “Take it out on me.”
“Take it out…wife…no. I am too angry to be trusted,”
Ashen says, taking a step back as I take another forward,
my chest flaming with desire as the word wife echoes in my
mind. But despite his protest, Ashen’s eyes roam the
contours of scalloped lace that hugs my breasts, the curve
of my waist.
“You could have kept ripping off limbs until your rage
subsided, but you came home. You must have wanted
comfort. And I can give it, though I make no promises
about making it easy on you,” I say, giving the demon a
devious grin as I undo the button of my jeans. I drag the
zipper down slowly, tooth by metal tooth, then slide the
waistband down over my hips. The denim pools at my feet
and I take another step closer to the Reaper. He takes
another back in return. “Ashen of House Urbigu, are you
running away from me?”
“No,” he scoffs. We do another little dance of one step
forward, one back, but he has nowhere left to go unless he
wants to be absorbed by the wall. “Yes.”
“Well,” I say as I saunter closer to him. Ashen’s back
presses against the wall, his wings splayed wide behind
him against the white plaster. “You’re doing a terrible job
of it, thankfully.” I press my hands to his chest and rise to
my tip toes as I take his earlobe between my teeth, keeping
my eyes trained on his shimmering snakeskin wings. “What
are you so afraid of, Reaper?”
“Hurting you.”
“You won’t.”
“I might.”
“You won’t.”
Those wings flutter against the wall. Smoke flows
around them like spilled ink, coating the plaster, coasting
across the floor. Ashen’s hand trails across my hip and
splays across my back. His other joins it, and a breath later
the clasp is released from my bra, the straps going slack
over my shoulders. I pull back and look into his eyes, their
red rings glowing with bright crimson light.
“I know you won’t hurt me, Ashen. I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t,” he says as he pushes me back. The
gleam in his eyes is deadly, but I feel more than just fury in
my mark. There’s desire too, burning hotter with every
breath. He pushes me another step as a slow and wicked
smile grows on his lips. “Vampire…”
“Yes, Reaper?”
“Run.”
My smile broadens and I take a step back, then turn and
bolt across the room. I run to the couch. My foot sinks into
the cushions and I spring over the back. Ashen’s hand
grazes my calf and I squeal. I run down the hall and nearly
crash into the doorframe as I skid to a halt and pivot into
the bedroom. But I don’t make it far. I’m halfway through
the room when the force of Ashen’s body knocks into me
from behind. Snakeskin wings and heat and smoke envelop
me as we twist and fall, landing just short of the bed. Ashen
cages me in his arms and grunts with the hit, and the
momentum hasn’t stopped when his mouth is on my neck in
a burning kiss, swallowing the tremor of my laugh.
“You have wings. How did you miss the bed? It’s right
there,” I say through a giggle as Ashen’s roaming hands
tickle my ribs.
“I couldn’t make it that far.”
“I might have to make you pay for that landing,
Reaper.”
“Pay, hmm? How?”
“Direct deposit.”
Ashen’s huff of a laugh warms my neck before a gentle
bite tugs on my earlobe as he eases his weight from my
body. “Get on the bed, vampire.”
There is little in any realm that I enjoy more than telling
this demanding demon, “No.”
“Please.”
I raise my hand to his hot cheek, the boil of rage still
heating the blood beneath his skin. Poor thing. I almost feel
sorry for him and how much I’ll make him suffer. I give him
a slow, bright, devious smile. “Make me.”
A rumbling growl vibrates in the hollows of his chest as
Ashen’s arm slips beneath my back, his wings soft against
my skin where they remain wrapped around my body as
they protected me during the fall. “Stubborn creature.”
“Creature? No, Ashen…” I say as he lifts us from the
floor and closes the distance to the bed. “Not a stubborn
creature, but a demanding Queen.”
 “You may fight me all night if you wish, in everything I
ask. And yet, Queen or not, you will still give me what I
want in the end.”
“Will I though? I’m not so sure.”
“I am,” Ashen says, his wings fluttering across my back,
the edge of each scale a crescent of warmth against my
spine. He lays me down cocooned in his smoke and scent, a
line of kisses searing my flesh from the edge of my jaw to
my collarbone. I try not to shudder in the urgent need I feel
with every press of his lips or grip of his fingers.
“And what is it that you want, exactly?” I ask as his nip
to my breast draws a gasp from my lips. He suckles on the
flesh, swirling his tongue around the bud of my tight
nipple, relishing every catch of breath in my lungs with an
answer in the stuttering beat of his heart. He takes his time
to reply, first kissing his way to my other breast and
devoting the same attention to it until I start to writhe with
the need for friction.
“Calm yourself, vampire. Have patience,” Ashen
whispers, his smile warm against my skin as it sends a
flourish of goosebumps across my chest. “Beyond making
you fall apart until all you can do is grovel for release, I
only want some pretty words.”
“I bet I’m going to like this.”
“Tell me you love me.”
I can’t deny him that, even if we’re only playing a game.
I stroke Ashen’s cheek until his eyes meet mine. “I do love
you.”
The answering grin is so cocky and wicked that I have a
fleeting urge to suck my words back in. “See? Was that so
hard?”
I scowl and his eyes brighten with mischief. “What
else?”
“Admit you were jealous back in Sanford when you saw
me have a drink with Anna. Out loud.”
 “Next,” I grit out. The red rings framing Ashen’s irises
flare brighter in response. He can feel that burn of jealousy
in my mark, he can see it in the blush that rises in my
cheeks, but we both know the cheeky fucker wants it
spoken. Fat fucking chance of that coming easily. He’ll have
to fuck it out of me. “Next, I said, Reaper.”
“Patience, I said, vampire.” To mark his point, he
presses his lips to my neck and carves a slow path of hot
kisses across my jaw. My fingers tighten their grip on the
tense muscles of his arms as Ashen’s hand drifts across my
mark, trailing a line of the lightest caress down the center
of my stomach until he reaches the apex of my thighs. His
hand hovers there, waiting, barely touching, grazing the
lightest swirl over my clit. I try to bite down a moan but it
comes anyway, and the warmth of Ashen’s skin evaporates
as he removes his hand.
“You are infuriating.”
“You know what else is infuriating?”
“I have some guesses. Is it your refusal to get Netflix in
the Shadow Realm? Your resistance to wearing anything
other than dark colors? Your love of butter?”
“And thus you’ve deftly illustrated my point, vampire:
that you are a brat. And on occasion, it would be deeply
satisfying to see you acquiesce to my demands without
argument.”
I cackle a sarcastic laugh. “Good luck fucking that
agreement out of my mouth. I wish you well, Reaper. Are
you done?”
“Not quite. One last thing.” Ashen’s eyes hold mine and
I raise an impatient brow as I try to steady my breathing.
“Call me husband.”
Aha.
The one thing he wants most. His favorite thing. A
simple word that means the most to him.
I give him a slow, vampiric smile, filled with fangs and
venom.
 “We’ll see about that, Reaper.”
Ashen’s smile meets mine in its wickedness. “You’re
right. We will. When your pussy is overflowing with my
spend and you are fucked so thoroughly that even a
whisper of my breath on your cunt makes you come, you
will give it to me. You will beg me with it.”
A still and silent second stretches between us, and with
just a breath Ashen crushes his lips to mine. His wings
seem to heat against my skin, smoke curling around us.
This kiss is not just coursing with need and desperation,
but with promises. Ashen will do whatever it takes to get
his requests out of me. I’ll do whatever it takes to hold
them in.
The heat between us only increases as Ashen’s hand
slowly passes down my ribs, gripping my hip before
pushing my leg down from where I’ve wrapped it across his
back. His fingers trail a tingling line up my inner thigh, a
touch so light it’s little more than a whisper, so unlike the
brutality of our kiss.
“You said you wanted to stoke the flames of a demon.
Let me show you exactly how endlessly the fire of my desire
for you burns.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 24

O ne of Ashen’s large hands is clasped around both of

my wrists, locking them behind my back as he slams
into me from behind. Sweat slicks my skin. My flesh is
swollen around him. My legs are sticky with the cum that’s
leaked from my pussy, trailing down my thighs. The bed
shakes with the power of Ashen’s thrusts, his balls slapping
my clit with every deep stroke.
“Say it, vampire. Say it or I will not stop.”
I smile. This is the last of our games still standing,
neither of us relenting. He knows I’m getting tired. He’s
taken me so many times already tonight. But he also knows
I’m stubborn.
“I can’t.”
“Say it.” Ashen’s palm smacks the back of my thigh with
a crack and I lurch forward.
“Dammit demon, it was on the tip of my tongue, but you
startled it right out of me,” I tease, and another slap hits
my flesh. I cry out with pleasure at the sting of it in my
skin. Wicked thrusts pound into me. Ashen’s grip on my
wrists and my hip tightens.
“Say. It. Say it, you stubborn creature,” Ashen grits out,
his words punctuated by more slaps. The pace of his
strokes matches my need. If I come too close to the edge of
oblivion, he slows. If I slip too far away from an orgasm, he
speeds. He keeps me exactly where he wants me, having
just enough without having what I’m really after. Not until
he gets what he wants this time. He’s made me come until I
didn’t think I could anymore. He’s impaled me on his hot
sex, wrapping me in his leathery wings and caging me in.
He’s woken me, already buried to his hilt within my sheath,
sliding in long, slow strokes as he whispered his need into
my ear. He’s begged me with gentle pleas. And now he’ll
keep me on the brink if he has to, until I spit out the one
word he’s been asking for.
I turn my head to the side, enough that I catch him with
the edge of my vision. “I’m busy. Leave a message.” It earns
me a growl that vibrates deep within the demon’s chest. My
resistance might seem both cruel and masochistic, but it’s
worked. Over the course of the night, Ashen’s ire has
subsided. His wings receded, the red rings around his irises
have faded away as his rage has slowly ebbed. And with
each strike of his hand against my ass and the backs of my
thighs, I feel my anger cleansed too. My frustration and
worries about insubordination of the Reapers. My fear
about my tenuous power over this place. It all fades away
like smoke in the wind.
“Goddammit, vampire. Submit.”
“You didn’t say please.”
“I’m done asking nicely.”
“Then I guess we’re in a stalemate.” That earns me yet
another slap and I cackle, a roar of frustration rumbling
over my back as Ashen pushes his weight onto me, my
wrists still trapped in his grip. His other arm snakes around
my middle, holding me in place as he rams into me.
“Just say it,” he purrs into my ear, his voice dark and
rich and enchanting. “I know you suffer. I know you long to
sleep.”
“This is my favorite kind of suffering. And sleep is for
the weak.” My smile blooms as Ashen changes course and
trails hot kisses down my neck. My pleasure ramps up with
every thrust of his cock within my swollen, desperate
center. “Besides, I’m not sure if you’ve suffered enough.”
Ashen huffs a laugh across my skin and goosebumps
skitter up my shoulder. “I have suffered, vampire. I am in
agony waiting for a single word. Say it.”
“No.”
“Say it.”
“I can’t.”
“Say it.”
“It’s not time.”
“Say. It. I will give you anything.”
My interest piques, my focus cleaving between the
punishing thrusts and searing kisses. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
My smile doesn’t just bloom, it erupts. You can probably
see the gleam in my eyes from space. My fangs descend
and I wriggle one of my hands from his grasp so I can pull
Ashen’s grip from my stomach, placing his index finger to
my lips. “Do you promise?”
“Terms,” he demands, wary of my sudden interest. I
laugh and he pounds into me. I stifle a whimpering moan,
coming closer to the edge of my orgasm. I try to hide it,
hoping I’ll come before he can stop me, but he senses the
fluttering of my muscles and eases his strokes. “Give me
your terms, my Queen.”
“A date.”
Ashen stills as though he’s short-circuited. If his mind
were made of clockwork, it would be ticking loud enough to
fill the room. “Where,” he demands.
“The Realm of Light.”
A menacing growl vibrates through my back as Ashen
resumes his thrusts, the slam of his cock into my flesh even
more punishing than before.
“You get some bands like Eryx—”
“Vampire—”
“And we go on all the rides. And I mean ALL of them.”
 Another growl.
“And we go surfing in the Silver Sea.”
“Not that hellish water. It’s probably full of angel piss.
Besides, I don’t know how to—”
“And we eat the popcorn and the churros and all the
candy and we play tag with the children and the donkey
and we have fun.”
Ashen groans as though this is the most burdensome
request ever made.
“Or we could just fuck until we die. Those are my terms,
Master of War.”
Ashen leans back and slaps me hard on the ass.
“You are a minx.”
“I am the Queen, and I will do as I please.”
Another slap. I smile.
“You have my terms, Reaper. Take them or not. The
choice is yours.”
Ashen pumps into me, driving over and over, harder in
his frustration, probably looking for any way out of this
madness. He slaps me again one last time for good
measure, the sting heating deliciously in my skin.
“Fine,” he grits out next to my ear. “I promise. I will do
as you ask if you say it.”
I bite down hard on Ashen’s finger, and he hisses with
the pain, his cock buried as deep as he can press into my
aching flesh. I drink in his sweet essence, sealing his
promise with blood. When I let go of his finger, his hand
travels down my body, hovering over my clit as he waits for
me to fulfill my end of the bargain.
“All right,” I say as his hips shift in a gentle sway of
encouragement. “Dearest…” …long dramatic pause, which
earns me a growl of warning… “…husband.”
There’s a quiet moment in which the only sound is
Ashen's sigh of triumph and satisfaction. “Finally,” he
whispers, sliding out with agonizing slowness, just an inch
or two, and then pushing in as far as I can take him. “Now
say it again, and don’t forget to make it sweet.”
“Please, Ashen, my dearest, my eternal love, make me
come before I die of want. Fill me up, husband.”
Ashen growls with approval, demanding I say it again as
he thrusts with steady strokes, his finger finding my clit at
last. Every time I do, his strokes get harder, longer, the
pressure on my clit more intense, until he’s pounding into
me, his other hand reaching around to hold one of my
breasts as they bounce with the force of his motion. It takes
no time at all to push me over the edge, my walls gripping
tight around Ashen as release fires through my nerves.
Praise and adorations tumble from Ashen as I come hard,
crying out his name, and with a quaking shudder he
releases inside me. He fills me with warmth, with hot
pulses that take what feels like an eternity to subside.
When we’re both spent, we collapse with one another,
still joined for a long while as our hearts gradually slow.
One of Ashen’s arms curls around me in a hot, protective
embrace while his other palm glides over the back of my
thigh and my ass to soothe the skin that must be pink and
swollen.
“I don’t know whether to go back out into the realm and
find something else to be furious about or to never be
angry again. I think I nearly died. Several times,” Ashen
says next to my ear, his breath still quick as it pours
through his exhausted voice.
“But you feel better.”
“As do you.”
I nod. “I do. Especially knowing we have a super fun
date coming up in the Realm of Light.”
Ashen groans and grips me tighter. “Perhaps I don’t
need to go back into the realm to find something to be
annoyed about.”
“You’re the one who agreed to the terms, demon.”
 Ashen lets out a long breath of dismay but still holds me
firm in his arms. “I did.” He kisses my temple and pulls me
closer. His muscles tense around me. “We don’t have to go
soon, do we?”
I smile in the cage of his limbs. “For a date, no. I’m
happy to save it for another time that you’re frustrated and
annoyed, if that helps?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Nevertheless, I’m afraid we’ll have to go back soon
enough anyway, so if we happen to go on the rollercoaster
a few times while we’re there, I think I’m okay with that.”
“The Soulfate stone,” Ashen says, the levity draining
from his voice. I nod against his chest. “Have you learned
anything from the Book of the Fatespeaker?”
“Not much, honestly. I’ve been focused on trying to learn
the Dingir in advance of finding the next stone and the
gateway,” I say as I wriggle away. I shimmy to the edge of
the bed and grab my robe before padding away to the living
room, bringing back the book. When I settle on the bed, I
flip to a page I marked in the center of the manuscript. “I
did find this, however.”
“Is that the same as the doorway you saw?” Ashen asks
as he points to an image of rings of Dingir surrounding a
sphere at the center.
“Yes, though I think it’s more like a window than a
door,” I say as I rest the heavy text on the mattress. “You
can take the key and see inside, for a moment at least. But
to step inside their realm, you need to go to Alahalsu. The
gateway. The pathway, like the thread that spans between
the beginning of a soul’s creation and its end.”
“And where is that?” Ashen says as he looks down at the
text, most of it in Dingir.
“No fucking clue.” I smile as Ashen lets out a long sigh.
“Yeah. There’s more.”
“Of course there’s more.”
 “The book says there will be an insurrection of beings
from where the gods trapped them, between the realms.
The abyss. Salamu. They will be allowed into the Living
Realm and will attempt to take the stones during a period
of imbalance among the three realms.”
“The Nephilim.”
“Looks like it. In order to save the fates, the keys must
be returned to Alahalsu and the gate destroyed.” I flip a
few pages ahead to another bookmark I’ve left between the
pages. “And look at this.”
“The Scepter of Ereshkigal,” Ashen whispers as I spin
the book to face him. There’s an image of the same scepter
on my chest in faded ink on the page. Below it, the Mace of
Nergal, just the same as it appears on Ashen’s mated mark.
A third symbol is drawn at the bottom of the page, a four-
pointed star bordered by a circle, wavy lines fanning out
between the points from the center of the star to the
perimeter of the sphere. “The Sun Disc of Shamash.”
I nod, laying my index finger to the Scepter of
Ereshkigal. “Light and Shadow.” My finger trails down to
the Mace of Nergal next. “Peace and War.” My touch halts
on the Sun Disc of Shamash. “Hope and Surrender.”
“If our mated marks are represented here, it’s
reasonable to assume that someone else has a tattoo
similar to ours, and they too have a role to play with the
fates, somehow.” Ashen’s finger traces over the symbol
before he flips the page, but the page is empty.
“Yeah. Frustrating, isn’t it. I haven’t found anything in
the Sumerian or Latin entries yet that seems to relate to
that page, but there’s still a lot to wade through,” I say
before pulling the thick book from Ashen’s fingers to close
it, leaving it on the nightstand. When I turn back to Ashen,
my diabolical smile has his eyes narrowing with suspicion. I
carefully back away, getting ready to run. “Do you think
that third symbol means we’re jointly mated to another
person? Is this a ‘why choose situation’? You know Tessa’s
in one, right? I bet that’s it, yeah. And I have a good guess,
Reaper. It’s gotta be Duman. Did you see any suspicious
tattoos on him when you were ripping his limbs off?”
I manage to touch one foot to the floor in my bid to leap
from the bed in a fit of devious giggles when the hot band
of Ashen’s arm wraps across my middle, hauling me back
onto the mattress beneath a spray of embers and smoke.
My laugh burns away into a gasp as Ashen spreads my legs
wide and descends to press decadent kisses to my clit,
swirling his tongue across the bundle of nerves that are
still so sensitized to his touch from our hours of pleasure.
He drags his caress down until he thrusts his tongue into
my pussy, his thumb replacing its absence on my bud with
gentle circles as he devours me. His free hand strokes my
inner thigh, painting my skin with our combined arousal.
“What are you doing, demon?” I ask in a breathless
whisper as I fist the sheets.
Our eyes meet down the length of my body as Ashen
releases me from his mouth just long enough to answer.
“Reminding you that you need no other beast in your bed.”
“There’s not room for another anyway,” I say. My teasing
smile fades as a sliver of worry slices through Ashen’s eyes.
“You take up every crevice in my heart.”
I smile, and a different kind of darkness takes over
Ashen’s features.
“I will show you all the same,” he says, and feasts on my
flesh until all I see are stars.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 25

“Y ou’ve gotta tell him to stop,” Ediye whispers as she

sits next to me on the couch in the suite I share
with Ashen. She passes me one of Cole’s homemade
churros with spicy chocolate sauce, the sounds of laughter
and the smell of cooking drifting from the kitchen to warm
the apartment.
“Huh?”
“Your husband,” she hisses. “Tell him to stop.”
“Stop what? I have no idea what you’re talking about,
babe.”
Ediye rolls her eyes and tears off a piece of a churro,
scowling at me as she chews with more force than is
necessary for the sweet dough. “The gifts.”
“Say what? What gifts?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Obviously not, no,” I reply, a hot lick of blush curling up
my neck. I dart a glance to Ashen as he and Roman look
through the collection of whiskey lining a shelf near the
dining room, opening a few of the older bottles to sniff the
contents as they chat in hushed tones.
“First, my room was filled with flowers. Like, filled, Lu.”
“Aww, that sounds sweet—”
“Sweet? It looked like the botanist’s version of a
hoarder’s house. And it took me an hour to find my herbs so
I could stop Cole’s sneezing.” Ediye’s face crinkles with
disgust. “He had a line of snot, Lu. He sneezed it onto the
roses.”
“Gross. But also, you’re a Healer. It’s not like you
haven’t seen worse,” I say, taking a bite of the doughy
goodness as I sink further into the couch with a contented
moan. “Remember the time my arm got stuck to my side
with all that goo when I was healing from burning at the
stake? That was pretty gross.”
“Yeah, but I also don’t suck your dick. I’d have felt
different about that if I regularly had your cock in my
mouth. Snotty is not sexy.”
“I guess when you put it that way…”
“Then the Reaper brought me, like, sixty different kinds
of glass cleaner and stainless-steel polish and car wax.”
“What the fuck?”
“Right?” Ediye says as she passes me another churro.
“Apparently, they’re for Eryx’s wings.”
“To what, polish them? What kind of kink does he think
you have, exactly?”
Ediye shrugs as Ashen and Roman laugh about
something in the other room. We watch in chocolate-
covered, dough-induced silence as they pour their drinks.
“Anyway, it’s way over the top. He has to stop. I know he’s
grateful for me bringing you home and all, but he doesn’t
need to do all that. You’re my friend, and so is he.”
The realization fills my heart with a little ache as I look
toward my husband. My gruff but generous, scary but
sweet husband. “Shit…that makes sense, Ediye.”
“What, that we’re friends?”
“No, that he hasn’t had any. Gift giving is kind of his love
language, you know? This ‘friends’ business is new to him,
and maybe he’s struggling to make sense of it,” I say,
watching as the Reaper and our vampire guest continue
their perusal of the other liquors hoarded by the suite’s
previous occupants.
 “Well, he has them now, so he’d better figure it out.”
I give him one last look, averting my eyes before Ashen
catches my gaze, a little twinge still burning in my heart for
him. The thought plagues me as Ediye and I chew in
silence. Even though Ashen might have had a sister or
romantic relationships like Davina and Rosario, maybe he’s
never really had friends. My attention settles on the other
vampire in our midst as I watch the two men bonding over
expensive booze, and though I smile at the thought of their
fledgling friendship, that contentment falters when I
remember the damage I sensed in Roman’s fractured
mind.
“Did you fix whatever is going on with that one?” I
whisper in Ediye’s ear, pulling away to nod toward Roman.
“No,” she replies with a shake of her head. “It’s not a
one-and-done deal, unfortunately. We will need to continue
the treatment daily for some time.”
“How long?”
Ediye shrugs, breaking the last of her churros to give me
half. “Maybe a few weeks. Maybe more. As long as it takes,
I guess.”
“Hmm. It might take a good long while in that case. He’s
a strange one.”
“You’re strange. You’re the queen of strange.”
“Am not.”
“You once asked me if your labia was going to become a
parachute.”
I huff a derisive laugh. “I was joking.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Fine. Half joking. But there was a scientific precedent,
Ediye. That hybrid had an enormous dick.”
Ediye’s eyebrows raise as she tilts her head and
considers my point. “I’ll have to take your word on that
one. But you have also set a precedent of strangeness.”
“Fine. Then let’s say strange knows strange. And that
man is strange,” I whisper, my eyes still on Roman, my
voice low enough that he won’t be able to hear me over his
conversation with Ashen. “He’s… missing pieces. And
there’s something within his mind that he doesn’t know
exists.”
“What do you mean?” Ediye asks as she pops her half of
the churro into her mouth. “Like a flatworm?”
I snort a laugh and Ediye gives me a devious smirk. “No,
I mean a secret. But one he didn’t put there.”
“Then who did? And why?”
“Both good questions. To which I can only say, who the
fuck knows.”
“So…we’re off to a good start then.”
“Yeah, no shit. Also how is a mystery.”
“Then we basically know nothing aside from a vampire
has a secret. How shocking,” Ediye says with a teasing
smile. “Remind me, Lu…how long was it you were in
hiding, keeping your identity a secret?”
I roll my eyes. “I get your point, but this was definitely
not of his making. He doesn’t seem to know it exists.”
“Maybe you should tell him. Ask if you can look again.”
“The only way I can find out more about it is if I open
the structure of it, and I’m not really sure I want to do that.
It doesn’t give me good vibes,” I say, a little shudder
flowing down my arms. “Besides, I don’t know that Wynter
would be a big fan of me rooting around in his noggin.”
“Probably true,” Ediye says as we look over at Wynter as
she hovers over an ancient book splayed open on the dining
table next to a set of scales and small bottles of powder and
liquid, her pen scratching across a notepad. “They seem a
little protective of one another.”
“Whether they both want to believe it or not.”
We watch in silence for a long moment as Wynter reads
a through the heavy text, or at least pretends to. Every few
minutes she steals a glance at Roman. He does the same
when he seems to think it will go unnoticed. Whenever
their gazes happen to connect, they both look away.
 “How much do you think she knows?” Ediye whispers.
“She obviously realizes something is wrong and he’s
struggling with memory, otherwise she wouldn’t have been
looking for the ingredients she obtained from Mr. Hassan’s.
It was everything she required for the potion to heal
damaged memories.”
“Good question. She obviously knows something is
missing. But maybe she doesn’t know something else has
been put into his head to replace what was lost.” Our focus
is pulled to the door as Cyrus enters with Davina, two
additional guards remaining at the threshold to guard the
hall. “Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she knows it all, but
would rather not see.”
Ediye and I exchange a dark look before she rises to
assist Wynter while Davina takes a seat to my left on the
couch, the musky undertone of her usual lilac scent the
only betrayal of her trepidation about the weight of the
position she’s about to take on. When Wynter is ready, she
and Ediye join us in the living room, Ashen and Roman
trailing after them, their earlier levity gone in exchange for
reserved concern and wary glances.
“Are you ready?” Wynter asks to Davina. The young
apothecary grips a vial of shimmering liquid in one hand,
one of fine grey powder and a glass of water in the other.
Ediye stands close by with the book clutched in her fingers,
the scent of dusty skin rising from the ancient leather
pages. Ashen sits in an armchair with his whiskey as
Roman stands off to the side, his back against the wall as
he regards the unfolding scene with stern vigilance, his
gaze resting on Wynter but always shifting away before she
looks in his direction.
“Yes,” Davina replies, and though her voice is calm, her
eyes aren’t. They dart from one person to the next until
they rest on me.
“You don’t have to do this, Davina,” I say. A thousand
worries seem to crash on my shoulders. Maybe she’s not
ready for this. She’s been through so much already. No
matter what I feel about Davina and her history with
Ashen, this is too much for me to ask. What if she feels like
she couldn’t say no? But Davina turns to me and smiles,
and I think maybe I see a little excitement beneath the
nerves.
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to.” With a final,
fleeting smile, Davina squares her shoulders and shifts her
attention to Wynter. “I’m ready.”
“I’ll give you a nod when it’s time to drink the liquid.
You’ll want to lie down, but you need to stay awake and
take the powder when I tell you,” Wynter says, passing
Davina the vial of liquid. She turns to me next, giving me
the ampule of powder. “Your job is to keep her conscious
until she consumes it.”
“Got it.”
“Okay. Here we go.” Wynter turns toward the book in
Ediye’s hands. The chant begins. The air seems to change
around us, shifting like dust motes shimmering in sunlight.
The liquid in the vial coats the glass with a viscous glimmer
as Davina rolls it between her fingers. Wynter finishes the
first page of text and then casts her gaze to Davina with a
nod.
Davina pulls the stopper from the vial. The scent of
sugar and smoke drifts toward me. My spine straightens as
something diaphanous settles into my thoughts, something
familiar hidden in the scent.
Davina knocks the liquid back. Time seems to slow. The
pace of heartbeats, the rhythm of breath, the shifting of
muscle and bone. Cubes of ice clink against Ashen’s glass
as he leans forward in his chair. But it’s Roman’s eyes I
meet across the room. He can smell the nuanced secrets
that drift on a current of air, just like me. And as I meet his
eyes, I know I’m not the only one who feels something is
amiss.
 “Lu?..” Ashen says from his chair as my brows draw
together.
In an instant it’s too late to answer. Davina slumps, her
shoulders falling. Her vertebrae seem to unlink beneath the
hand I place on her back. Her eyelids flutter and start to
close.
“Keep her awake,” Wynter barks.
I do the only thing I can think of in that moment.
Something that feels oddly cathartic.
I slap Davina across the face. Hard. Probably a lot
harder than necessary.
Davina’s eyes clear from her haze and she manages to
shoot me a questioning frown before I slap her again. You
know, for good measure. Purely for Resurrectionist
purposes and not for any residual jealousy. That kind of
behavior would be super un-Queenly, after all…
She’s starting to look a little glassy-eyed.
I slap her again.
“I think she’s good,” Ediye hisses.
I shrug, giving Davina a poke to the ribs. “What? Wynter
said to keep her awake.”
“I’m good,” Davina slurs, batting my hand away when I
move to give her a few love taps to the cheek.
Wynter gives me a disapproving shake of her head and
refocuses on the book, continuing her chant. I keep my
attention on Davina, nudging her whenever her eyelids
start to droop, slapping her only once more when she starts
to slump. Fine, maybe twice. Or three times.
When Wynter finally gives the signal, I unstopper the
other vial and draw it close to my nose before handing it
over to Davina. There’s a faint note of cinnamon, an
undertone of sulfur. Other scents too, like bleached bone
and burnt fur, white sage and starlight magic, black blood
and mist traveling through shadow. “What is this stuff?
What does it do?” I ask as I close Davina’s hand around the
vial and help guide it to her lips.
 “It’s called ushgada. The Veil. It shields her from the
boundaries of death and life.”
“I’ll take a few extras for me and the rest of my friends,”
I say, only half-jokingly.
“There can only be one practicing Resurrectionist in
each spirit realm, so in theory we could bring more here
but it wouldn’t work for anyone else. If we had more, that
is. It’s incredibly rare and the Vaultkeeper only releases it
by approval by at least two members of the Guild’s
council.”
Davina pours the powder onto her tongue and I lift the
glass of water to her lips. As soon as she’s swallowed, her
limbs become boneless and she passes out against me.
I slap her.
“It’s okay, she can sleep now.”
“Such a shame. This has been an oddly therapeutic
experience,” I mutter. My ever-present, latent desire to
grind her bones to dust has abated. For now.
I take the empty vials and bring them closer to my nose
to analyze nuances within the scents. There’s a subtle hint
of myrrh in the vial that held the liquid, ink in the one that
held the powder. “Where did this ushgada come from?
What is it made of?”
“It’s something very rare, distilled and kept with the
Guild of Gilgamesh at the Enir building in Cairo.”
That’s…evasive. I straighten a little, Roman mirroring
my tension as he pushes away from the wall. “What kind of
rare something, exactly? And if you say ‘a little of this, a
little of that,’ I’m going to start slapping you instead of
her,” I say with a nod to Davina, not taking my eyes from
Wynter’s as I give my new Resurrectionist another tap on
the cheek.
“Truthfully, Lu—” she starts, Ashen interjecting with a
curt cough, “—Queen Lu, I’m not entirely sure. There likely
aren’t many apothecaries who do know it intimately as it’s
locked away and used so infrequently. All I know for certain
is that a Scythe is needed to procure the ingredients, so I’d
assume it contains at least a little of a human or creature,
but I’m not sure what exactly.”
“Human or creature,” I repeat, my gaze colliding with
Ashen’s. I set the vials on the coffee table and rise, heading
toward the dining room where the bottles sit next to the
scales Wynter used to weigh their doses. I pick up the one
containing the powder and raise it to my face to smell the
residual scent clinging to the stopper.
“Do you know who created this ushgada? Is there a
record of who gave it to the Guild or where it was obtained
it from?” Ashen asks as he stands. Wynter’s gaze darts
between us, flicking briefly to Roman. “Where did it come
from?” Ashen says, drifting closer to Wynter while trying
his best not to be too imposing, though he’s failing
miserably. Roman approaches and Ashen gives him a look
of warning, but it doesn’t deter the vampire from placing
himself between the Reaper and the apothecary.
“I don’t know who made it,” Wynter answers with a
shake of her head. Her brow furrows as her eyes dart
between us. “It’s old, and rare. It was made before my
time.”
“I didn’t say who, I said where.”
I turn over the bottle of the powder in my fingers to read
the scrolling text of the handwritten label. “Évora,” I say,
turning toward the group, meeting Ashen’s eyes. I don’t
need to see his face to know the blood has dropped from
his skin. I can hear it rush to his heart, swirling through his
veins as his eyes latch on to Davina’s sleeping form.
“The Scythe,” he whispers, and I follow the hot flame of
his simmering rage.
I twist the bottle between my fingers tilting it to watch
the grains within coat the glass and dance like live yeast.
“And the demigod.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 26

D avina sleeps without stirring beneath the weight of

our collective scrutiny, unaware that the first ghost
she’s about to resurrect is her past.
“We just made her eat someone? I feel super bad.”
Ashen raises one brow.
“Kind of bad. I feel kind of bad.”
Ashen eyes me with doubt before pinning his sharp
suspicion to the apothecary. “How did the Guild come into
possession of this?”
“I don’t know,” Wynter says, shaking her head as she
glances toward Roman. “I’m not even sure if Ammon knew
much about its provenance.”
“Franca Duarte,” I interject, looking between them.
“When Ember claimed her soul, the Guild must have taken
back all her possessions. Maybe it was still among her
materials, or maybe if Franca was aware that her client
Davina had been reaped, perhaps she got rid of it.”
Ashen hums in agreement before turning his attention
back to the stunned apothecary. “How did you obtain it?”
“I was due to meet Ammon at his apartment. He knew I
was at the Guild and called to ask if I could bring it on my
way. He then called the Vaultkeeper and requested its
urgent release. Since Ammon was already on the Guild
Council, he only needed one approver, but I don’t know
who that was. Approval was granted right away. That was
about thirty minutes before…” Wynter swallows and her
gaze falls to the floor.
Roman’s stone-faced facade finally cracks, and he steps
closer to Wynter as though shielding the apothecary from
our questions. “What are you not telling us? You clearly
know something about the ushgada.”
“So do you,” I counter, setting the bottle back down and
returning to the living room to join Ashen’s side. I slip my
hand into his. Roman’s brows flicker, his gaze trapped in
the middle distance between us as he tries to work out his
thoughts. “You reacted to the scent. It was familiar to
you.”
Roman’s tongue traces his bottom lip as though tasting
memory from a current of air. “It was, but I couldn’t place
it,” he replies, his attention flicking briefly to Cole as he
enters the room with Eryx and Aglaope, the three carrying
platters of pastries from the kitchen to lay them out on one
of the side tables. When Roman shifts his gaze back to
mine, it’s as though he’s fighting to remember something
he believes he forgot. “I think I know the scent, but I don’t
know how.”
I nod, understanding that he’s trying to cast a net
around a memory that might not even exist. I pick up one of
the vials from the coffee table and pass it to him so he can
test the scent again. “I think it’s familiar because it’s the
building blocks of us all. The elements of all immortals.
Angels. Demons. Witches, werewolves, and vampires.
Whatever gods made us, we carry the elements of them,
fractured and divided among us. But the demigods, their
children, I think they carried all those same building blocks
of the magic that made the rest of us.”
Cole’s heart trips over itself, the beat stuttering before it
quickens as he lays down his plate, a little tremor rippling
through the ceramic when he sets it down. “Demigods?
What’s going on?”
 “How do you know it’s not just a bit of every creature in
there?” Roman asks, ignoring Cole’s question as he raises
the vial to his face and inhales. It’s as though he’s
determined to hold on to the chance to sort something out
without the complication of his damaged memory.
“I don’t know for sure. But given the location listed on
the vial, I’m willing to bet it’s likely not just a combination
of immortals.” I turn to Ashen, squeezing his hand as
Davina stirs on the couch, her hand traveling across her
eyes as she starts to wake. “Évora? That’s where you and
Davina were?”
Ashen nods, grief rising in his features before he tamps
it down beneath a blanket of surging heat. “Davina’s coven
was just outside the town. We had a cottage on the
southern boundary of their territory,” he says as he nods in
Davina’s direction, his voice little more than a whisper.
“That’s where I reaped her soul.”
Cole’s voice is so quiet when he speaks, so heavy with
the weight of time and loss. But as soft as it is, it cuts
through the room like a freshly forged blade.
“Évora?” he asks.
The flesh on my neck tingles. Fine hairs rise on my
arms.
Cole’s voice floats up from memory, from the time we sat
in the villa in Ravello and drank wine with Urtur. I was
supposed to protect him, he’d said. It was my purpose.
A cold wave ripples through my veins as I look down at
Davina, her eyes open now and widening with the alarm of
sensing something very wrong without knowing exactly
what it is. I glance at Aglaope, who scrutinizes the scene as
though calculating odds at a gladiatorial battle. Ashen’s
confusion pulls at the mark on my chest and I hold tighter
to his hand, my palm going slick.
“Cyrus,” I say, reaching my free hand to curl around
Davina’s arm as I try to tug her to her feet. “Please take
Davina and Aglaope back to—”
 “Évora?” Cole says again.
God no. Not there. I swallow a thick lump of dread that
sticks to my sternum and twists around my heart. “Cyrus?
Their rooms please?”
Cyrus is about to come fetch Davina when Cole cuts in
front of him and blocks his access, his gaze bounding
between Davina and Ashen. “You were in Évora?”
“Yes,” Ashen replies, his eyes darting between Cole and
Davina, confusion weighing heavily in that one simple
syllable.
“I was there too. When I was an angel. I was in hiding,
protecting someone.” Cole says, color leaching from his
skin.
It was my purpose, Cole’s voice echoes from memory.
Loving him was an unexpected gift.
Ashen’s hand grows hot around mine and I try to tug
him with me to shield Davina from Cole’s increasingly wild
gaze, but his feet seem to have cemented to the floor as the
realization takes hold.
“Protecting who?”
“His name was Dimitrios. He was a demigod.”
Shit. Oh shit.
The scene around me freezes, just for an instant. Davina
stops breathing as Ashen shifts his glare between her and
my sister, smoke billowing from his back to kiss the floor.
Aglaope stands straight and still, her lips set in a tight line.
Eryx seems to have lost all light. Even his wings are dulled
by heartache. Ediye’s hand is curled in a fist at her chest as
her eyes swirl with the universe of power trapped beneath
their immortal lens. Roman still blocks Wynter from view,
his arm hovering behind him, his muscles bulging as
though he’s ready to grab her and run. I feel the weight of
Cyrus’s gaze on me as his hand tightens on the hilt of his
sword. And Cole, he’s the worst of all. His gaze is fused to
the vial clutched in Roman’s fingers, his grief stitched
together with threads of brightening rage.
 “Dimitrios?” he says, his voice so small that I want to fall
to my knees.
The stillness lasts only a breath longer before the room
erupts in a salvo of sound and motion. The furious
stampede of heartbeats hum like war drums beneath the
rising voices. Smoke and cinders crackle in Cole’s wake as
he rushes toward us, his hand outstretched for either the
ampule on the coffee table or Davina’s neck, I can’t be
sure. Cyrus wraps a thick arm around Cole’s chest, keeping
the point of his drawn blade trained on my friend’s neck as
sparks hiss across the floor.
“Settle yourself, demon. You will not touch her,” Cyrus
says, his words as much a soothing reassurance as a
warning in the distraught demon’s ear, the only sound of
calm among the string of his soul-shattering cries that mix
with Davina’s apologies. The scent of tears fills the air.
Cole’s. Davina’s. Ediye and Eryx’s. Mine. But through the
glassy film, my eyes find Aglaope, and her expression is
grim as she begins to understand the dynamics unraveling
around her.
“You,” Cole seethes, his skin reddened by blotches of
fury and streaked with tears as he stares at Davina. “It was
you?”
Cole’s lungs heave against Cyrus’s hold on his chest as
Eryx and Ediye attempt to comfort him. Ashen steps
between them, blocking Davina from view.
“No, brother. I was the one who told Davina there was a
demigod nearby. It was my knowledge to protect, and I did
not. It was me who failed,” Ashen says as he bows his head,
folding a fist across his heart. “I am sorry. Truly sorry.”
“As am I, Cole. I am so sorry,” Davina whispers.
“It was my doing also,” Aglaope says as she steps
forward. “I was the one who killed him.” My sister glances
at me and I try to infuse my expression with my
appreciation that she’s taking her share of an egregious
wrongdoing, but not much comes beyond the heartache I
feel for Cole’s loss.
Cole’s shoulders slump and Cyrus loosens his hold,
handing him over to Eryx’s embrace. The angel’s razor
plumage sings like wind chimes as his feathers shift to
shield Cole’s resurrected grief from view. I look to Davina,
who sits with her head bowed, her elbows on her knees and
her palms facing upward, the sigils of her new rank shining
with gentle green light.
I stand in silence, looking at these people I love who
have been tied together as enemies and friends and even
lovers, caught in the whirlwind of history. The secrets of
our immortal pasts seem to sharpen beneath the sands of
time. Those blades cut so deep when they emerge. We’re all
hurting from these wounds, from the things done to us, by
the wrongdoings we’ve committed against others, even by
the actions we’ve taken against ourselves. We all suffer
from guilt and shame. Love and loss. Decisions that can
never be taken back. ‘Perhaps some things cannot change,
no matter how much we wish them to,’ Aglaope said.
Maybe she’s right, that no matter how hard we try we’re
always destined to hurt one another. To keep hurting one
another, no matter how many centuries pass.
I watch as Cyrus holds out a hand for Davina. She looks
up at him, her eyes red with tears, her skin stained with
them. He gives her a nod. She gives him a fragile smile in
return. When Davina slips her hand into his, he squeezes
her fingers, and a different kind of tear falls from her
lashes.
I turn away and drift toward the mantle of our fireplace,
the gentle hum of the Deathfate stone singing to me from a
hidden safe in the wall, its locks encased in magic. I
wonder how much these unseen forces have always toyed
with us. Bringing us together. Tearing us apart. Maybe I
should hate the last of the gods for what they put us
through. Or maybe it was our own doing all along, that we
can’t help but crash into one another, like ships being sung
to shore.
Aglaope was right. Some things cannot change. But I
have to believe we can still mend them. We can heal our
hearts when they break. We can find a way back to
ourselves and one another. If Ashen could help me do it,
then I can help the people I love too. Maybe I can even help
this realm, whether it is my fate or not. I can give them
what they need to keep going.
And I’m ready to start trying.
Even if I have to spill a little blood to do it.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 27

“A re you sure about this?” Ashen asks as we descend a

steep staircase carved from black stone. Humidity
rises with every step we take into the subterranean cavern.
I keep hold of Ashen’s arm and we progress further into the
darkness, our way lit by dim lanterns of smoky grey glass.
“For the hundredth time, yes.”
“I’m not fond of the idea.”
“I’m acutely aware.”
“I suppose it at least confirms you are indeed still trying
to kill me. This time by heart attack.”
“I already said that killing you would never get old.”
Ashen’s only reply is a low growl of irritation.
“I need to get out more,” I say with a shrug, patting his
arm. “I can’t just stay inside and fuck my problems away.”
Ashen scoffs. “We can try.”
“We did try.”
“We can try harder.”
“You’ve tried hard enough. We heard you from the next
suite over,” Ediye says behind us, her eyes shining with
mischief when I shoot her a conspiratorial grin.
“You are one to talk, witch,” Ashen says with a sharp
glance over his shoulder. Ediye’s eyes shimmer brighter in
reply, stars glowing and fading with her amusement.
 Ashen slips into scowling, brooding, demon-worthy
silence. His simmering anxiety bleeds through the mark
over my heart. No matter what reassurance I try to give
him, whether it’s a squeeze on his arm or a joke or a smile,
nothing seems to quell the fear that vibrates through my
flesh like the tickle of butterfly wings beneath my skin.
When we land on the final step and drums pound an
echoing beat to herald our arrival, those wings become tiny
hammers pounding at my sternum.
The cavern ahead is a massive chamber, the jagged roof
of stalactite crystals shimmering several stories above us
as they reflect the light of the torches lining the cave. The
length of the cavern is double its width, with bleachers
extending down both ends, hewn from the rock and
separated by a smooth, flat floor. At the far end is a
sculpture carved into the black stone. The scene of
gratuitous impaling reminds me a little of the tapestries in
the Throne Room, the ones I really did end up burning a
few nights ago when Cole wanted to make salted caramel
s’more towers. It seemed to cheer him up a bit, so it was
worth the effort of dragging the heavy fabric into a
makeshift fire pit behind Eshkar’s former residence, even if
I did eat enough marshmallows to make myself sick.
“The sculpture is making me hungry. You know what
would make this whole thing better? Churros,” I say as
Ashen unwinds his arm from mine to place his hand on the
exposed skin of my lower back as we ascend the steps of a
dais. I’ve chosen a black option for this evening, a little
more in keeping with the Reaper aesthetic. It’s a short
playsuit with a low-cut back, the military boots I’m wearing
giving it a bit of an edge along with the kaiken strapped to
my thigh. I can’t say it’s queenly, but it’s practical and
comfortable in this humid cave warmed by torches and the
bodies of demons who stand at attention among the
staggered seats.
 Ashen’s only response to my attempted joke is a grim
little growl. He sends a withering glare across the audience
as we take our places to stand in front of our seats on the
stage, Ashen to my right with Cyrus and Roman, Ediye to
my left along with Imani, Hotaru, and Maru from my new
Council. A contingent of Shub Lugal soldiers fan out around
us, lining the edges of the stage and the level below us as
though daring anyone to even look our way too long. Zida
enters last, coiling behind my carved mahogany chair with
an agitated hiss.
The drums come to an abrupt halt.
“Hail Queen Leucosia,” Ashen booms to the audience.
“Hail Queen Leucosia,” they respond.
Everyone on the dais aside from the guards and Ashen
sits. As soon as we’re settled, the demons of the audience
do the same.
A tense silence descends on the cavern affectionately
known as The Gauntlet.
“Tonight is a unique event,” Ashen says as he slowly
stalks toward the front of the dais. His fist grips the hilt of
his sheathed sword with bleached knuckles. “There will be
no resurrected souls for your ravening entertainment. No
revived immortals, breathed to life to be torn apart before
your eyes. Tonight, your Queen gives you better sport.
Deserving prey. The traitors of the Shadow Realm.”
The floor between the two sides of the cavern comes to
life with sound. Sections of the stone separate from one
another on hidden gears and tracks in kaleidoscopic
shapes. They whirr and tick and fold to reveal the brutality
hidden one the level below.
It’s a maze of alleyways and high stone walls. Some
pathways come to a dead end, others have long stretches of
straight passages that seem to emanate the very essence of
deceit, their traps so well hidden that not a hint of danger
is visible, even to my preternatural vampire sight. A section
near the center is a wide courtyard where a few weapons
lay the floor for the taking. In several places there are
obstacles, like giant axes that swing like pendulums, or an
unstable bridge over a steaming pool of acid, the only path
toward the exit of the maze. The final goal is a small, round
podium beneath the carved wall at the far end of the
cavern.
Ashen says nothing further to the rows of demons who
speak in hushed tones as the final sections of the floor slide
into place beneath them. Some lean forward in their seats,
shifting to get a better view of the playing field. Ashen
strides back toward our line of chairs, his gaze a heavy
presence on my skin.
“This is reminiscent of some fun times in Rome a couple
millennia ago, don’t you think, Reaper?” I say as Ashen
takes his seat and folds his hand around mine.
“I’m still not sure about your idea of fun.”
“Come on now, it’s going to be a great show. They’ll be
talking about it for years.”
Ashen’s slides a flat glare in my direction but doesn’t
argue. His hand heats around mine.
Two doors slide open at our end of the arena and eight
unarmed demons enter the playing field. They’re divided
into two groups, and they can’t see one another from their
starting points on the maze. I spot a few familiar faces.
Joash is there with his amputated arm, the wound already
healed. There’s a woman I recognize from the battlefield in
Romania, but I don’t know her name. The soldier who
practiced his archery skills with my head is in Joash’s
group, so I guess that means Zida never got to eat him and
he resurrected. She hisses behind me as though reading my
thoughts. I spot Pyrrhus as well, who crouches a little,
taking stock of his surroundings.
The drums crash around us. Ashen leans forward in his
chair. I cut a glance at Ediye and her worried expression is
lightened with a flash of a devious smile.
 When the drums stop, the crowd erupts into cheers and
shouts. Some people call out instructions, taunting the
participants to take one turn or another. There’s no way the
traitors can know if what they hear is helpful or harmful, so
they seem to ignore the shouts raining down from above
like poisoned arrows.
Both groups stalk forward with cautious steps. Joash’s is
the first to run into trouble.
As the group turns down a corridor, someone steps on a
hidden panel in the floor. A screen drops from the wall at
the far end of the hall to reveal a line of crossbows. A slew
of bolts releases with a mechanical shing.
Several of the demons drop to the floor quickly enough
to avoid being hit, but one is not so lucky and howls with
fury and pain as he looks down at the arrow lodged in his
stomach. The second group of demons startles as they hear
his scream from a few corridors over. Cheers and shouts
and the sound of stomping boots fill the cavern.
“That’s Duman,” Ashen says as he leans in close and
nods toward the injured demon. We watch as Duman slides
the bolt from his guts with a gritty groan. When it’s free, he
keeps hold of it for a weapon.
“I like the psychological warfare aspect,” I reply,
gesturing to the other group of demons as they continue
their procession through the corridor with heightened
caution. Ashen hums in agreement, and I can’t tell if he
picked up the edge of sarcasm in my voice.
Truthfully, I don’t totally love my idea to put on a show.
The Council was excited by the prospect when I proposed
my vision and took only two days to update the playing field
from whatever their last event had been, complete with a
few specific requests from me. I’d rather leave such games
to history, but I’m not ruling humans or the beings of the
Living Realm. I’m ruling demons. If I want to change the
conversation about how this realm will be run so that I can
start healing this place, I have to first communicate in their
language. And I intend to make a point they will not soon
forget.
“Maybe it’s time to speed things along in Pyrrhus’s
group,” I say as I meet Ashen’s eyes. He gives a hint of a
grim smile and turns away to nod at a soldier who stands at
a podium, the alcove of which is lined with buttons and
switches. She flips the first one and I hear the gears whirl
to life for a door in the pit below.
Urtur stalks from the shadows beneath us. The crowd
erupts with excitement. Pyrrhus’s group can’t see him yet
from where they stand back-to-back around a corner, their
legs bent, bodies tensed for a fight. But they know
something is coming as they crowd chants, stomping their
feet in rhythm with their single, repeating word.
Beast.
Urtur stalks forward, his head low. He takes his time to
drift down the corridor. A salvo of shouts and cheers
bounce off the cavern walls. Some demons in the stands
rise to their feet, leaning forward as they strain to get a
better view of the giant black jackal as he approaches the
corner. He stops just before the turn.
The jackal growls.
Pyrrhus’s group takes off at a run. Their progress is
erratic with their wariness of the unseen traps in the maze.
They keep glancing back toward the demon jackal as he
rounds the corner. Urtur bares his teeth.
The audience’s attention is trapped between the beast
and his prey. But not the guard who controls the game
board.
I give her a nod. She gives me one back. The group of
demons reaches the end of the corridor just as slits open
along both sides of the hall around the corner the height of
both walls.
The first demon reaches the turn, his attention still
snagged on the jackal as Urtur stalks forward. He doesn’t
see the danger slipping from the shadows in the wall.
 He rounds the turn and impales himself on Valentina’s
blade.
A collective gasp climbs into the stalactites. Those on
stage from the Council are just as shocked as the rest of
the demons. The only people I told of this plan were Ashen
and Ediye. I’m most pleased with Imani’s reaction as she
lets out a delighted laugh.
“Congratulations, Queen Leucosia,” she says, leaning
forward in her chair. “You have succeeded in surprising
those who thought they had seen it all in the Gauntlet.
Even me.”
“And the surprises have only just begun,” I reply with a
sly smile.
The shock in the audience gives way to entertainment.
The crowd is thunderous. Valentina cackles a wicked,
triumphant laugh as she whips her sword free of the
demon’s abdomen and the crowd cheers. He falls to his
knees in a pool of blood, the vampire slipping away
between the slits in the wall before he even hits the
ground. The other unarmed demons stall at the corner,
caught between the hidden danger and the one creeping
toward them. They decide to take their chances with the
opponent they can’t see.
“I think I would have preferred facing down the dog,”
Ashen says.
I smile, not taking my eyes from the scene as the
bloodied demon struggles to his feet and staggers after the
others as they pass. “You flatter my kind.”
“You’ve killed me too many times for me to not learn my
lesson.”
My smile grows brighter. Valentina darts out from
another slit in the wall and drags the toe of her blade up
the back of a demon in a long slash. Another tries to grab
the sword as Valentina swings it over her shoulder to
deliver another blow. She wrenches the sharpened steel
from his strong grasp, slicing his palms with two deep cuts.
He bellows in pain. Valentina turns on him with a savage
hiss before she kicks him in the chest, sending him
backward into the demon with the abdominal wound. She
slips away into another slit in the wall.
The crowd cheers as Valentina continues to dart
between the walls, hindering the progress of the group
down the corridor, slashing non-lethal cuts as she laughs
like a horror villain. While the audience remains focused on
her bloody dance, I look to the other group progressing
deeper into the maze.
“Zida,” I call over my shoulder. Her attentive, quiet hiss
flows toward me. “Have fun. No eating.”
Zida slithers by, possibly annoyed by my request to not
eat the players, though truthfully, it’s a little hard to
interpret snake facial expressions. She keeps her eye on me
as she passes and then she flows down the stairs, drifting
through the guards who stand aside as she serpentines to
the edge and slides into the pit. The chants begin again
when the audience spots her heading for Joash’s group.
Beast. Beast. Beast.
We watch as both groups struggle past obstacles and
booby traps, Urtur and Zida always on their heels, pushing
them further into the maze. The players leave bloody trails
behind them. Sometimes I catch the scent. Sometimes I
think I can hear the alarm in their pounding hearts, but it’s
the sound of the crowd, their chants and stomps like a
pulse in the cavern. As both groups come closer to
converging in the heart of the maze where the weapons
wait, I turn to Ashen.
“I’d better get going,” I say, trying to impart a
comforting smile to alleviate the fear in his eyes. His
emotions fill my mated mark with heat, as though the
invisible tether between us is made of frayed wires, their
ends burning beneath my skin.
“You don’t have to do this, vampire. The Shadow Realm
is already more than entertained.”
 “I’m not just trying to entertain. You know this. I need to
give them a reason to think differently of me. They need to
remember why I stood up on that dais and gave them
mercy.” I squeeze Ashen’s hand as his gaze drops from
mine, his brow furrowed as he looks at our laced fingers. I
nudge his arm with mine, drawing his attention back up to
my waiting smile. “You didn’t worry this much in House
Urbigu when we fought the hyenas. You told me to have fun
and not hiss too loud.”
“That was before I lost you.” Ashen’s free hand folds
across my jaw and the rest of the world falls away. He leans
closer. His pounding pulse drums in his veins. Fear marks
Ashen’s scent with notes of sulfur and salt as his breath
whispers across my lips. “Twice you were wrenched away
from me. Stolen.” A feathery tremor ghosts through
Ashen’s lips as he presses them to mine in a gentle kiss. He
pulls away to stare into my eyes so deeply that I feel his
presence in every hidden corner of my soul. “You are not
just my most precious star. You are every constellation that
lights up the night, and I cannot bear the darkness without
you.”
I place my hand on Ashen’s. When I lean into his touch,
the aching worry I feel in my mark becomes tendrils of
pressure in my chest. “You need to trust me, Ashen. If you
can’t,” I say, gesturing toward the audience, “they never
will.” I take Ashen’s hand and gently lower it from my face,
bringing his knuckles to my lips to place a kiss to his
glowing tattoos. When I release my grip on his hand, he
doesn’t do the same. There’s a little shake of his head, the
thinnest sheen of glassiness in his eyes. “It’s okay. Have
faith in me. Just let go, my love.”
My words seem to break something in him, but whatever
part of Ashen fractures, it splits wide enough that he lets
my hand slip away. His expression is tortured despite my
reassuring smile. Even when I turn to Ediye for my katana,
I still feel the presence of his gaze like gauze on my skin.
 If this really is my destiny, it’s about time I seize it. And
I’ll do it like any ancient vampire would.
I will mold myself to be what they need in this moment,
so that I can get exactly what I need from the Shadow
Realm.
I need their allegiance.
So I will become their wicked queen.
I walk to the front of the dais. The guards part as I
descend to their lower platform. I stride to the ledge of the
playing field.
And then I leap into the depths of the Gauntlet.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 28

I n one heartbeat, there’s silence.

In the next, a crash of sound.
There are gasps and shouts and roars and whistles. If
anyone dares to stoke Ashen’s rage by booing, I don’t hear
it. I focus on my surroundings as I stride through the maze,
every corner and cache of traps burned into my memory. I
follow the path of Pyrrhus’s group, rounding the corner
where Valentina remains hidden now that the demons have
passed. Her eyes glow, crimson beacons in the shadows. I
give her a nod, but I don’t stop. She gives me one in
return.
I don’t break stride as I reach behind my back and pull
my katana free of its saya. And then I take off running.
It takes a few turns to catch up with the group. The
scent of blood surrounds them like fog. Urtur presses them
forward, following close enough to be menacing but far
enough that the audience can see the obstacles the group
encounters clearly. I hear Zida hiss over the wall to my left
and know the groups are getting close to the courtyard
where the weapons lay waiting.
I slow as I reach Urtur and use his body to block me
from view, but the demons are so focused on what’s ahead
of them that they don’t see me coming.
Music rushes toward us from every direction.
 Mayday!! Fiesta Fever surrounds the playing field. The
energy from the audience fills the cavern so completely
that it feels like there’s no room for air. It washes over me.
I smile.
Do I want to play rock and roll in a disco party?
Yes. Yes, I do.
The demons still haven’t seen me. They’re too distracted
by the loud music and the beasts and the cheers. They run
to the weapons in the wide room. Duman’s group is just a
second behind Pyrrhus’s. There are only four weapons for
the taking among eight competitors. Their tenuous threads
of allegiance are about to snap.
I slip past Urtur and run after them, my arms pumping,
my grip tight on the handle of my sword. Two of the injured
demons fight over an ax. Another scoops up a dagger and
runs for a corridor on the far side of the square as two men
chase after her. Another pair of Reapers have Duman
cornered, and he swings a scythe in wide arcs in a bid to
hold them off. Pyrrhus grabs a sword but the archer from
Imhas kicks the back of his knee and Pyrrhus goes down, a
second kick to his wrist dislodging his hold on the weapon.
Pyrrhus tries to fight back, but with his existing wounds
from the dangers of the maze, he’s in little position to
defend himself as the archer aims to strike him down.
I plunge my katana through the archer’s back before he
has the chance.
My hiss is drowned by the rapture of the crowd that
surrounds us. Guitars and drums trap my heartbeat. The
stomping boots weave a beat through the lyrics. Crumbs of
rock dislodge from the roof and rain across the Gauntlet.
As my sword slides free of the archer’s lung and he falls to
the floor, the crowd cheers.
They cheer for their Queen.
I grab the archer’s shoulder and turn him over. His eyes
are wide with shock and pain. His pupils are little more
than pins of flame. A bloody froth foams from his lips and
nose as he exhales.
“Uh oh,” I say as I lean over the archer with a sweet
smile and a wicked glare. He begins to convulse. His chest
spasms. His eyes stay gripped to mine as I tilt my blade
between us and examine the sharpened steel. “Looks like
there might have been Angelwing poison on that blade. I
wonder where I got more of that from.” I give him a smile
of fangs and glowing eyes.
Eyes that glow ice blue.
I drive my blade through his throat, pinning the
vertebrae to the stone floor and twisting until the satisfying
pop and crunch of bone vibrates through my palm.
The air is charged, like static before the lightning strike.
It’s the shock in the crowd. Someone screams. When the
first hybrid gallops into the courtyard and barrels down a
demon, a deafening ovation erupts around us.
The presence of the hybrids is like something both
foreign and comforting in my thoughts. A ball of cotton
rolling across the inner surface of my skull. The fuzzy
presence of something that shouldn’t be in my head, yet
feels soft and yielding, malleable to my own thoughts. It
doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel like they push for too much
space in my mind. Maybe it’s because I don’t tell them
what to do. They want to be here.
They want justice from wherever it can be taken. And
traitorous demons who hoped to force them to serve a war
they never asked for? Well, that seems like a pretty good
place to start.
I catch Zara Sargan’s eye as she enters the courtyard
and smiles at the chaos spread before her. An ancient,
powerful vampire, she seems to have withstood Semyon’s
hybridization better than those creatures created from
younger vampires, some of which are a grotesque
combination of skin and snout, fur and fangs and claws.
She gives me a little grin of pointed teeth then rushes
forward as the players try to flee this latest, deadliest trap.
More hybrids enter the space and I turn my attention to
Pyrrhus who’s still on the floor, his jaw is clamped tight,
though his wild eyes and ragged pulse belie the panic
heating his veins. He clutches his hand to his chest. I smell
the marrow of broken bones.
“Time to go,” I say, getting to my feet. I drop my left
hand toward him. He hesitates to take it, even with the
sounds of Joash screaming nearby as a hybrid slashes his
calf with long claws as he tries to run toward us. “I’m
picking your side.”
With a final exhale of trepidation, Pyrrhus takes my
offered hand and I draw him to his feet. “Thank you,” he
says.
“Don’t thank me just yet. If you fall at the bridge, I’m not
fishing your melting flesh from the acid with a pasta
strainer.”
Pyrrhus replies with a worried grimace, and then we
take off for the corridor I know will lead toward the end of
the maze. We pass the female demon around the first
corner, her bloodied body turning to ash.
I help Pyrrhus dodge an obstacle of wires set on tracks
through the floor and walls, ready to slice through
whatever triggers pressure sensors built into the corridor.
There’s a body sliced into numerous sections that are
turning to cinders. There’s a severed foot on the floor and a
trail of blood. It isn’t long before we encounter the foot’s
owner staggering down the hall. I cut him down and we
keep going.
It’s a few more turns when we make it to the unstable
bridge.
Curls of acrid smoke drift from the deep pool of heated
acid. It bubbles beneath the broken panels of the bridge
that hang by frayed rope from a steel trellis. Some sections
of the bridge are thin, narrow boards that twist in the
slightest hint of shifting air. Others are large enough for
two or three people at a time but are spaced far enough
apart that we’ll need to jump.
I know I could leave Pyrrhus here to find his own way. I
could backtrack all the way to the starting line. But if I do
that, I’ll lose the crowd. No matter how great this show is,
no matter how much is satisfies their need for violent
entertainment, they would never forget it if their Queen
came down to fight only to turn up a coward.
And right now, they’re cheering my name.
There’s no other way for either of us.
“You first. Take your time. I’ll watch your back,” I say as
we climb the stairs leading to the broken bridge. Pyrrhus
nods, his jaw crushing his nerves tight between his molars.
When he starts the crossing, I turn to protect our back, my
weapon at the ready. The crowd claps and whistles for
every step he crosses, and they ooh and gasp for every near
miss. But Pyrrhus crosses the bridge to the sound of the
crowd calling his name. Part of me thinks he’ll take off now
that he’s made it to the landing, but he doesn’t. He stands
and waits, though I wouldn’t put it past him to try to steal
my katana or push me into the acid if I make it to the other
side.
I sheathe my sword and start to cross.
The first steps are easy, a row of narrow panels that shift
and bump into one another. I hold the frayed ropes and
make a mental note to add little hidden thumb tacks to
them next time. If there’s a next time. Maybe I can see
some of the merits in this gladiatorial battle if I can throw
in irritating mini booby traps. I’m thinking about a paper-
cut obstacle when my foot slips on one of the larger
platforms, causing it to twist a few degrees back and forth.
The platform pitches forward and I grasp the ropes to
regain my balance without issue, but it must look worse
than it is, because I feel a surge of worry in my mark from
Ashen. He’s managed to keep his anxiety as a steady hum,
but now it burns in my skin.
 I jump to the next platform.
Pyrrhus calls my name.
The crowd drowns anything else he tries to say.
A heavy weight crashes against my back and I slam
down on my belly on the platform. My breath flees my
lungs. The board twists and sways violently, dropping a few
inches on one side as part of the rope snaps. I manage to
keep my grip on the wooden edge with one hand as I clutch
the base of the rope next to my hip with the other.
The weight lifts a fraction from my back as the platform
steadies. I feel a tug on the strap that holds my sword to
my back. Someone is trying to take my weapon. My
poisoned weapon. The one that could kill me too.
Permanently.
This is a risk I knew I had to take. I had to make the
stakes high enough. I can’t win this realm with half
measures. I’ll never believe I’m worthy otherwise.
Except… I didn’t say I’d play completely fair. Though I
feel a rough tug at my back as my opponent tries to free
the handle from the saya, it doesn’t budge.
Ediye spelled the weapon to only release with my touch.
“Fucking vampire slut,” Joash sneers as I thrash beneath
him, unsteadying the platform as he tries again to tug the
sword free.
“Fucking demon douchebag.” An inferno of heat burns
beneath my mark and I grit my teeth against the pain. I
guess Ashen’s just realized I also had Ediye use her magic
to bind him to his chair. “Though I guess I should thank you
for coaxing the wings out again.”
I whip my kaiken from the sheath strapped to my leg
and cut the rope beside my hip with a single slice.
The left side of the board falls but I stay gripped to its
edge. Joash manages to clutch my saya and we both sway
with the broken bridge as it swings above the acid.
I’m not strong enough to hold us both.
 A determined growl rumbles in my throat as I sheathe
my dagger and grip on to the edge of the platform with
both hands. I kick my legs, trying to dislodge the demon on
my back.
“Get off,” I hiss. “You’ll only go back to the Resurrection
Chamber.”
“If I go, I’m taking you with me,” he grits out behind me.
I glance over my shoulder with narrowed eyes as he laughs.
“How do you know there’s not a guard there willing to give
you an everlasting death, even at the expense of their own?
The archer nearly succeeded in Imha, didn’t he. He was
part of the Shub Lugal.”
Shit. He’s got a point. Joash laughs again as uncertainty
and fear twist in my guts. Ashen feels it, his own panic and
fury molten in my skin.
I firm up my grasp on the edge of the platform and
thrash again, but Joash holds on. The rope creaks as we
twist and swing. Fibers snap.
“Just let go, little slut,” Joash goads. The scent of acid
burns my nostrils with every breath. “I promise it will only
be agonizing for a few moments…this time.”
“She’s got other plans, wretch.”
I look up and Pyrrhus is there, clutching a broken board
he must have pulled free from the railing at the landing. He
smashes the splintered end into Joash’s face, hitting him
over and over until finally he must damage something
painful enough that Joash’s grip falters. His weight is
suddenly free from my back and there’s a splash beneath
me. I look down as he thrashes in gurgling agony, his flesh
melting, slipping from his bones like heated wax. The scent
of rendering skin bursts in hot bubbles.
“Reach, your grace,” Pyrrhus says above me, drawing
my attention away as Joash sinks deeper into the smoky
yellow liquid. Pyrrhus is lying on the next platform, his
body hanging off the edge with the arm of his broken hand
braced around its rope. His other is extended for me to
take. “I will not let you fall.”
It’s the most unexpected thing that I feel the sting of
tears in this moment when I look at Pyrrhus. It’s the
determination on his face. The promise in his voice. Even if
I’ve changed no one else’s mind about me, maybe I’ve
changed his. He could still take my hand and let me go, but
I trust myself enough to trust in him.
I reach for Pyrrhus’s hand. He hauls me up.
When we stand, hearts pounding and lungs burning, we
look at one another for a moment that feels captured in a
bubble of time. There’s a ghost of a smile in Pyrrhus’s face.
A look of pride.
I surge forward and wrap him in a tight hug. The bubble
bursts in the glory of the crowd as their cheers cascade
into the pit. They chant his name. They chant mine. But he
still hears me when I say thank you. He nods against my
shoulder, his chest a little bigger than before.
We part and cross the last of the bridge, then descend
the stairs on the other side. Ashen’s relief cools the edges
of my mark. There’s pride as well, and gratitude. And still
plenty of rage, presumably for being magically strapped to
a chair.
There are only two more turns and a final booby trap
before we reach the far wall of the maze. I let Pyrrhus
climb the small pedestal first, and he reaches for me to join
him. We keep our hands clasped as we look across the
audience. The demons are on their feet for us. They wave
their hands. They shout. Three words bound through the
chamber, echoing from the black stone.
Hail Queen Leucosia.
I turn to Pyrrhus as guards stride from the edges of the
playing field to escort us from the pit. “You’re free to go
home now,” I say. “Thank you again.”
“Thank you, your grace. You gave me something…
unexpected.”
 I huff a little laugh. “Mercy shouldn’t be unexpected
here.” I tap his chest where the tattoos of his House lie
beneath his bloodied shirt. “It’s written right there. Mercy
is stamped on your skin.”
“No, it is not mercy you gave me,” he says with a little
shake of his head. He steps down from the podium as
soldiers approach, but his eyes stay fused to mine as a faint
smile crosses his lips, embers sparking in his eyes. “It is
hope.”

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 CHAPTER 29

A s expected, my husband is fuming.

Literally.
Billows of black smoke roll across the dais, sparks
hissing as they die on the cold stone. Ashen’s snakeskin
wings drape from the armrests. Vivid orange embers twist
between the scales. I can sense Ediye’s magic still binding
him to the chair, yet Ashen sits as though he’s completely
at ease, deceptively still. It’s all a menacing illusion, of
course. I can see it in the bright crimson rings encircling
his coppery eyes.
“Wife.”
Oof. It did not sound endearing that time. More like a
barb hooking into my guts and tugging.
“I take it you enjoyed the show?” I say with a doubtful
smile.
I get a growl in reply.
“So that’s a no then…”
Another growl.
“Your husband seems to have lost his colorful
vocabulary,” Ediye says with a saccharine grin as I take my
seat between them. “You missed some true gems. My
favorite was ‘if you do not release me from this fucking
chair this instant, I will find your anunnaki lover and feed
him to the hyenas one piece at a time, starting with his
dick.’”
“Ashen,” I chide with mock horror. “So rude. You need to
start with his balls. I want to see if there’s glitter inside.”
“Nope, but his cum tastes like cream cheese icing,”
Ediye says.
I whip around to face her as a thousand questions race
through my head. “Seriously? He smells like a warm
cinnamon bun.”
“I know, right? Delicious.”
“But if he smells like a cinnamon bun complete with the
cream cheese icing, does that mean he’s always got spunk
somewhere that it’s not really supposed to be? Like, does
he jack off constantly and wipe his hands on his pants?”
Ediye’s brow furrows. “Legitimately a good question. He
does spend a long time in the bathroom. I just assumed he
was admiring his reflection. Do you think—”
“Enough.”
“Oh look,” Ediye says as we both turn to face Ashen. “It
speaks.”
“Get. Out.”
Ediye gives a long sigh and brushes the front of her
sparkling indigo dress free of wrinkles before she stands.
“Fine. Just try not to lose sight of the fact that tonight was
an unmitigated success. Not an insignificant amount of that
is thanks to you being strapped to a chair. So, you’re
welcome.”
Ashen lets out a final growl as my heart rate climbs.
He’s by far the most pissed at me he’s ever been, and of
course I can understand why. Nonetheless, I’m not looking
forward to the justifiably harsh words I expect to come my
way. I lean forward in my chair and signal to Cyrus who
nods in reply, then strides away to start emptying the
Gauntlet of excited demons.
“Good luck, my love. The spell will wear off when you’re
the only two left and the last person has ascended the
steps.” Ediye says as she leans down and kisses my cheek.
“Be gentle. He’s pretty hurt beneath all that sexy fire
demon facade,” she whispers in my ear.
A breath of a melancholy laugh whispers past my lips. “I
know. Thank you. Love you.”
Ediye squeezes my arm and offers a final smile before
she turns, looping her arm with Imani’s as they head
toward the stairs.
Ashen and I sit in silence as the cavern empties of
spectators and soldiers and guards. Valentina and the
hybrids are led to a passageway to their temporary
accommodations, an unused set of barracks separate from
the community of demons. The audience files out of the
structure, demons chattering with excitement as they recall
their favorite moments of the show and make plans to drink
at Bit Akalum. Many look my way with newfound
admiration. Some even call out my name.
I remain seated in my chair, a fragile smile etched into
my face as I nod in acknowledgement to those demons who
solicit my attention as they pass the dais. I try to keep my
expression serene, but beneath my skin is a jumble of
emotions that never settle in place long enough for me to
grab hold of just one. The feeling of treading water doesn’t
subside until the last demon’s back is turned and they start
to ascend the dark stairway.
With a breath that feels like a baptism of air, I rush off
my chair and climb onto Ashen’s lap.
“I’m sorry—”
“You could have been killed, Lu. Before my very eyes.”
“I know, I’m—”
“Joash could have pulled you into that acid. What if he
had somehow freed your blade?”
“He couldn’t, Ediye’s spell—”
“What if he was trying to get you into the Resurrection
Chamber with some other traitor we haven’t yet flushed
out? He could have been on you before I had reanimated by
your side. Has that thought occurred to you?”
No, it hadn’t until Joash mentioned it, but I leave that
part out. I grasp Ashen’s face between my palms and he
glares back at me, the rage a thin veil for the kind of worry
that nearly chokes me as it climbs up my mark and into my
throat. “I am sorry, truly. We both knew this would be a
dangerous gamble as much as an unmissable opportunity.
But that doesn’t make me any less sorry for scaring and
hurting you.”
Ashen’s eyes bound between mine, the rings brightening
with my words as though I’ve stoked his anger, not soothed
it. “We knew it was a gamble, yes. But I would have
intervened. I needed to be able to do that.”
“And if you had, you would have undermined my
credibility as someone capable of leading this realm. If I
can’t look after myself in this world, how am I supposed to
look after anyone else?”
“How are you supposed to look after anyone at all if
you’re dead?”
We stare at one another, both unyielding, both right,
both wrong. A rumble of discontent rolls through Ashen’s
chest as his gaze drifts away from mine. The muscle in his
jaw clenches and releases as he chews on the words he
must want to say but won’t. I stroke Ashen’s cheek, and
even despite his fury, he drags his gaze back to mine. And
what I feel when I look at him isn’t just the frustration of
landing at an impasse, or the sadness of wounding him
deeply, or the guilt of deceit. It’s love. It’s love so big I can
touch it, so rich I can taste it, so bright and blinding it
burns. Its facets are ever changing. I turn it in one light,
and it reflects the joy I feel when I make Ashen laugh. I
turn it another way, and passion consumes me, burning my
belly with an ache for his touch. If I twist it again, there’s
the deep love I feel when we repair our trauma and wounds
together, a comfort much like the warmth of the travertine
pools of Pamukkale as I watched the sunrise in the
protection of Ashen’s embrace. But the one constant in
every facet of love is choice. I choose to always hold on to
it. Mated mark or not, whether in happiness or anger or
sorrow, I choose Ashen.
And I understand now. Maybe he feels like I didn’t this
time.
“I’m sorry, Ashen. I won’t put you in that position again,”
I say.
The magic encasing his wrists and ankles begins to
wane. I expect he’ll probably toss me off his lap as soon as
he’s free. His body smolders, the smoke unabated as it
cascades across the dais in swirling waves.
But when the magic disappears, Ashen wraps his arms
around me and crushes me to his chest, burying his face in
my neck. I clutch him back and we stay like that for a long
while, just holding one another in the silent cavern, the
only sound around us the rippling flame in the torches set
along the walls. When we finally do part, Ashen grasps the
back of my neck with a calloused palm, his thumb gliding
across my skin in a gentle caress.
“I will only fight with you because you are worth fighting
for,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. He sighs as
though a pain has been lifted, like a deep splinter has been
pulled free. “You are right, just as I am. But it doesn’t
matter who is right in the end, or who is wrong. I love you,
Lu. I am so proud of you. I truly am. Do not let our
disagreement detract from your success. You were a force
on the playing field. The Goddess of the Gauntlet.”
My smile is caught up in Ashen’s kiss. His tongue
sweeps into my mouth and the vibration of his relieved
moan shakes the worry from my heart. His anger still
simmers in the tether between us, but other emotions are
there to soothe its ache, pride and love most of all.
“We’ve done big and bold,” I whisper against his lips
when we part. “How about we get to the subtle and soft
part of tonight’s agenda?”
Ashen’s final kiss holds a different kind of worry, one for
his own reparations and the uncertainty about charting
through waters he’s never traveled. “Are you sure about
this?” he asks.
“Less sure than I was about the Gauntlet.”
“That’s comforting.”
“I know, right? Let’s go get it over with. I want some
angry makeup sex before the wings subside,” I say with a
wink as skim my fingers across the scales before
shimmying off Ashen’s lap to his groan of desire.
“We could just stay,” he says, adjusting his pants around
the growing bulge straining the fabric.
“Or we could swing by the suite to get some rope once
we’re done and then come back so you can tie me to the
chair, Reaper. Maybe I need a little punishment for my
tricksy ways.”
The words have barely left my lips when Ashen sweeps
up my hand and drags me toward the stairway, the sound of
my laughter warming the cold stone. With every step we
ascend, every word spoken and heated look shared, the
hurt chips away, a little bit at a time.
Ashen holds my hand as we walk to the Kur, Zida and
Urtur following as our only guardians in the fog. The night
air is humid. It feels like an unseen storm lingers in the
distance. The thoughts of the crawlers and souls press on
my mind but never breach the barrier I’ve gotten better at
holding between us. But I know they lurk in the shadows,
now a comforting presence despite their broken minds. My
steps become more determined, because the path I’m
walking now is the one I’m taking to help them… I hope.
When we get to the Kur, we go straight to the Throne
Room where Ashen pulls my heavy polished chair back
from the Council table. He turns it to face the windows that
look across the Bay of Souls, the black water barely visible
in the night, even to my vampire eyes. I sit and he stands
next to me, taking my hand while we wait. The pattern his
thumb taps on my skin is the only outward sign of his
nerves.
A few moments later, Davina and Imani enter, and after
that Cole, Ediye, and Eryx, the group escorted by Cyrus
and two other guards. Cole looks tired, the grief of the
recent revelations about his former lover still etched into
the dark circles that sweep beneath his eyes. He glances at
Davina and Ashen only briefly, then keeps his bloodshot
eyes on mine.
“Cyrus told me you needed me,” Cole says when our
brief greetings have passed. “What can I do?”
“Two things, but only if you’ll have them. You can refuse
and no one will hold it against you,” I reply. Cole’s eyes
dart to Davina, but when they return to me, he gives a
decisive nod. “First, Ashen told me back in Ravello that the
human scientist you used to free me from the dungeons is
still alive, still here.”
A crease flickers between Cole’s brows. “Yes, Dr. Keller.
He’s being kept under guard at House Urbigu.”
“I know you weren’t at the Gauntlet tonight—”
“I’m sorry, Lu, I just couldn’t—”
“I know, it’s okay, Cole. I didn’t expect you to be there,” I
say. Cole’s fallen expression seems to lighten a little, and
Eryx squeezes one of his hands as Ediye holds on to the
other. “But you missed the best part. The hybrids made an
appearance.”
The surprise in Cole’s face is the first genuine curiosity
I’ve seen in him in days. “Hybrids? Here?”
“Yes, and Valentina as well, though I’m not sure how
long she’ll stay. I know Dr. Keller was working on a serum
to finish my transformation. If he’s been making progress,
maybe he can find something to reverse it. Perhaps he can
find a way to treat the hybrids and return them to their
previous forms in exchange for his freedom. I’d like you to
work with him and supervise this, if you’ll do it.”
 Cole’s eyes widen and he takes a little shuffle forward.
“Yes. Yes, I would love to do that, Lu.”
A wave of relief passes between Ashen and me. I’d
hoped we could find something that would inspire the angel
in Cole, the part of him that wants to serve. He needs to
heal and protect others, and in time, I hope, he can heal
himself too.
I lean forward in my throne, bracing my forearms on my
knees as I regard him. “The other thing, Cole…it might be a
little harder. It’s okay to say no.” I cast a glance up at Imani
and she smiles, knowing implicitly that I want her to
continue because he’ll be more comfortable telling her no,
if that’s what he wants.
“We still need a representative for House Mushussu on
the Council,” Imani says in her soothing, lyrical voice.
“Queen Leucosia has found a soul who might be a good fit.
She’s quite rare. In speaking with Davina and a few others,
we began looking into her background. We feel as though
she might be able to help us rehabilitate even the crawlers
and perhaps get them to the point where they too can be
safely resurrected.”
Cole looks between us as his head tilts and his brow
scrunches. I get a flash of the youthful side of him in the
way he looks at us, trying to work it out. “Rare immortal?
What do you mean?”
“She was a witch,” Imani answers. “A Dreamwalker. Her
name is Naya.”
Cole seems to crumble from within, even though his
body stays upright between the grip of his two lovers. His
knees tremble. His shoulders drop and shake. An
anguished breath tumbles from his lungs. But as his eyes
fill with tears, there is deliverance in the way he says her
name. “Naya? You found Naya?”
I nod and Ashen’s grip tightens on my hand, my heart
pounding in my palm. “We can bring her back now, or we
can wait until you’re ready. There’s no rush. No time limit.
But when we do bring her back, I would like you to help her
adjust, because she’ll need somebody. Maybe it should be
you.”
Cole doesn’t hesitate, even despite the tears that flow
down his skin in glistening channels. “Yes. Yes, I will do it.
Now is good.”
“You’re sure?”
A vigorous nod is his only reply.
I look to Cyrus and he whistles toward the open door
behind us. A moment later, a guard walks in, his hand
gently clasped around the arm of a soul with cloudy grey
eyes and wispy, shoulder-length hair. They draw to a halt in
front of Davina.
“Are you ready?” Davina asks, her words soft and kind.
Cole nods once more and wipes his face, but more tears
replace the ones drawn away by his sleeve. When Davina
turns toward the soul, she raises her palms and begins to
chant, the sigils etched into her skin glowing with golden
light. She closes her eyes as she whispers, and when she
opens them, the green flame within reflects on the soul’s
translucent skin.
Davina pushes her palm to the soul’s chest. “Sag anir
niggiggaa udmi nibzal zale,” she says.
Light erupts from the specter’s skin and she falls to the
floor.
Convulsions spasm through her muscles. She thrashes
on the cold stone, her alabaster skin warming to a rich,
medium brown as golden light eats through her flesh.
Tattoos burn to the surface of her chest and arms. The
geometric face of a hyena, the symbol of House Mushussu,
overlays patterns of honeycomb and flowers that spread
from her heart to her shoulders and back. She gasps for
breath, curling her legs to her chest as Davina kneels at
her side and covers her with a black silk robe. After a few
moments, she’s able to sit up, and she pushes her dark hair
from her eyes to take in her new surroundings.
 “What…what is this place? Where am I?” Naya says
between the shelter of Davina’s hands. Her dark eyes land
on me, her confused mind already recognizing the authority
a golden throne conveys.
“You’re in the Shadow Realm, Naya. You’re safe now,” I
reply.
Naya looks down at her arms. She flips her hands over
as though she can’t believe they’re real. She touches her
chest to feel her beating heart. “I was in a dream. A
nightmare.”
“This is real,” Cole says, and he takes a step toward her.
Naya registers his presence for the first time. A sharp
inhale sets her heart racing and she recoils in fear, but
Davina’s there to hold her steady.
“I was the one who reaped your soul,” Cole says as Eryx
and Ediye release his hands and he takes another step
closer to the trembling new demon. She tries to push
further away from him, but she doesn’t yet have the
strength to fight her way free. Cole kneels but comes no
closer.
“Naya,” Ashen says, drawing her attention from the
Reaper who killed her to a more terrifying option, one
complete with glowing eyes and giant wings. “You were
reaped for the Crime of Coercion. Do you remember?”
Naya takes a moment to respond, as though it’s taking
effort to discern dreams from memory. “Yes, I remember.”
“The former Council of the Shadow Realm determined
that you were entering another coven’s dreams to
manipulate them into an attack against a third coven, one
that was backed and controlled by the Council. Is that
true?”
Naya squeezes her eyes shut. “It is.”
“No matter your motivation or the advantage the former
Council gleaned from your actions, you already know it is a
violation of the rules governing immortals. You were only to
use your powers to guide and to heal, not to coerce,” Ashen
says, his tone firm but not unkind.
Naya’s head drops with a heavy sigh, and she takes a
deep breath before nodding. “I know.”
I rise from the throne and approach her with careful
steps, crouching near the woman who’s doing her best to
keep pace with a situation that’s long outrun her. But
despite her fear and confusion, she’s holding her shit
together. The only sign of her distress is the tremor that
jitters through her body. “Naya, look down at the words
that scroll across your chest,” I say. She reads the letters
and meets my eyes.
“Shalasu Ningsisa,” she whispers. “Merciful Justice.”
I squeeze Naya’s arm. “I can’t free you of this place, not
for the crime you’ve committed. But I can give you the
chance to use your residual gifts to help other souls and
rebuild this realm. I am offering you a position on the
Council, and the opportunity to use your Dreamwalker
capabilities to guide the most broken souls back from their
suffering. And Cole will help you do it.”
Naya darts a wary glance to the demon kneeling nearby.
His hands are folded in his lap. Tears still glass his eyes,
but only a few fall. “I’m sorry, Naya. I’m so sorry I took you
from the Living Realm,” he says. “I want to help you find a
purpose here. You can help the Realm find the path back to
what it was meant to be.”
“If I don’t accept?” Naya asks in a whisper, as though
she doesn’t really want to know the answer.
“Then you return to being a wraith,” Ashen says. “We’ve
looked through the texts. The rules are very clear. Ten
years for every mind you coerced to commit the attack. One
hundred and twenty years is your sentence.”
Naya was only reaped a year ago, but each moment
must have felt like a lifetime, because the sound she makes
is one of pure anguish. My heart sinks thinking what the
other souls here must be enduring if one hundred and
twenty years is unfathomable to an immortal. Even despite
knowing what she stands to face, Naya reins in her fear
and nods. “May I think on it?”
“Yes, of course.” I give her a smile and rise to stand next
to Ashen. His fingers lace through mine as his thumb draws
a lazy caress across my skin. Naya seems to notice the
movement and a crease flickers between her brows. When
she meets my eyes it’s as though the concept of love in the
Shadow Realm had never occurred to her. Something about
showing her otherwise through such a simple gesture
warms my core. “You have two days.”
Imani offers Naya a hand and helps her from the floor.
“Come. I will show you where you’ll stay.”
Naya’s gaze is still on me as her head tilts. Her eyes
narrow as she tries to remember if we’ve ever met, though
I already know we haven’t, unless she recalls fractured
images of me in her time as a lost soul. “Who are you?” she
finally asks when she’s sure she can’t wrest my name from
history.
But before I have the chance to answer, it’s Cole who
speaks.
“She is Leucosia of Anthemoessa,” he says. When he
looks at me, I feel my Cole looking back, the one who once
said we can give ourselves permission to accept love, even
when it’s tarnished and imperfect, even when we feel
unworthy. When Cole smiles, I know the bruises he feels
now are on the way to fading. “She’s the Queen of this
broken realm. And she’s going to fix it, one soul at a time.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 30

I ’m standing in the ruined living room of the cliffside

manor that will one day be our home. Ashen is
upstairs, his hammer a comforting beat that travels down
the stone staircase. Aglaope scrubs a section of the floor
where we’ve already swept away debris. I’m brushing down
one of the walls with soapy water, and I hum a little tune to
the beat of my strokes. Sometimes I think of Bian and
cleaning in the Swan and I smile, wondering if she’s sitting
in the lobby doing her crosswords as the world is ready to
fall apart around her. It should be a disturbing image, but
somehow it feels fitting for Sanford. Something makes me
think the rest of existence could be destroyed and that
hotel would still be standing.
“The Annuls of Biluda state that the Nephilim are
creatures trapped between realms, malevolent beings that
were punished by the gods for the Insurrection of Ekur,”
Eryx says, talking just as much to himself as to the rest of
us as he scrubs a tapestry that was hanging on the wall.
Ever since he went to the Realm of Light and spent two
days in the library in the ziggurat, he’s been a non-stop
fountain of historical information, though there’s been less
about the Nephilim than I’d hoped for. “In the prophecy of
the seventh oracle, Nunamnir, it was believed some
Nephilim had remained in the Living Realm in hiding,
possessing the bodies of mortals as slowly regained
power.”
“That’s what I remember from the early stories.
Possession this, possession that. Ghost stories. It seemed
like it was another human myth,” I reply.
Aglaope’s laugh is like music that warms the stone
walls, and Eryx glances over his shoulder with a look of
awe. “We do know a thing or two about hiding beneath the
stories of humankind.”
I hum in agreement. “Anything else, Mr. Art Historian
Angel?” I ask as Eryx rinses the tapestry, the bright colors
starting to show through now that the centuries of dirt are
being washed away.
“Only that immortals would open a channel to the space
between realms and allow the Nephilim in.”
“Great. So, if that’s true, then how many Nephilim are
there lurking in the Living Realm?” I ask.
“Not sure,” he says with a shrug. “It seems like the
channel can only be open for short period of time, in an
ancient city called Rusalimum.”
A gasp leaves my lips as I turn to face Eryx. Pieces of
memory shift into place, my pulse humming with the
excitement of a picture coming into view. The hammering
stops upstairs, Ashen surely sensing the sudden shift in my
emotions. His footsteps flow down the staircase and he
joins us in the living room.
“What’s going on?” he asks, looking between us.
“Rusalimum.”
“What about it?”
“Mila Karras. Ammon Hassan told us the first time that
we went to his apartment that the witch Mila Karras had
died in an accident in Jerusalem, do you remember?
Obviously, we know it wasn’t true, since she had been
working with Semyon to create hybrids when she stole
Valentina’s castle and identity.”
 Ashen’s brow furrows. “Okay…so what’s the connection
to Rusalimum?”
“Eryx just said one of the texts he was reading stated
immortals would open a channel and allow Nephilim into
the Living Realm in Rusalimum.”
“The first city of Jerusalem. At Gihon Spring,” he says,
the realization stretching his voice into little more than a
whisper. “If they’ve found a way to keep the channel open
or to reopen it once closed, that’s where it will be.”
Ashen and I smile at one another with this discovery, the
first concrete lead in finding the Nephilim and shutting
down the threat before it gets anymore out of hand. “Well
then. I guess it’s a good thing we have our first Council
meeting,” I say as I wipe down my soapy hands on a towel.
“At least I’ll have something juicy to bring.”
Ashen gives a fake little cough, taking my hand with a
cocky grin as he leads us toward the door as I wave
goodbye to my sister and Eryx.
“You would describe yourself as juicy?” I ask, shooting a
doubtful look at Ashen as he holds the newly repaired front
door open for me.
“No,” he replies, his smile a study in wickedness before
he subdues it beneath a haughty mask. “I believe that is the
term your colleague Anna used to describe me in the bar at
the Swan.”
I hit him hard in the arm and he laughs, fucking laughs,
that outrageous, warm, wonderful sound knitting around
my heart and tugging. “You are the absolute worst.”
“And you love me,” Ashen says as he wraps his arm
around my shoulder and places a kiss on my scowling
mouth.
“Most of the time.”
“All of the time.”
We slip into quiet conversation about the upcoming
meeting as we pass a few demons on the way, and for the
first time, they don’t just stiffly greet me under Ashen’s
penetrating gaze. They actually say ‘hello’ or ‘good
afternoon’ before acknowledging me with my title. They
don’t mutter little insults or regard me through narrowed
eyes filled with vicious flames. Ashen doesn’t kill or maim
or even threaten anyone. Honestly, even though I do find it
pretty hot when he slices someone’s limb off with a single
strike of his sword, it’s kind of a nice change not to dodge a
fountain of blood. On the plus side, I’ve learned in the
process an important lesson about this realm, which is the
merits of dark clothing. When Ashen got brains on my
cream sweater, I implemented Rule Five: keep the light
clothing at home. But also rule Five-And-A-Half: wear light
colored underwear because the Reaper finds blood spatter
on my bra super hot.
I push away thoughts of beheaded demons and bloody
bras as we enter the Kur, the structure still imposing
despite its growing familiarity. We’re the last to arrive in
the Council Room, and everyone stands when we enter.
Cole nods to Ashen with a faint smile, and my own hope
and relief are a mirror of what I feel from my husband,
rippling like gentle waves beneath my skin. Cole still seems
a little tired, but so much better now that Naya has agreed
to the terms of our offer. Though I can smell the adrenaline
that enriches her scent of citrus and jasmine, she at least
seems at ease next to him.
When we’re settled, we start our first meeting as the
complete Council of the Shadow Realm.
We cover a few easy topics first, like updates from the
Houses and feedback following the events of the Gauntlet,
which everyone seems to agree was a significant success,
even within House Mushussu. We talk about making room
for more souls and reallocating space that had once
belonged to traitors who have been permanently killed. I
describe our new knowledge about the Nephilim arriving
through a channel at Jerusalem. We agree to gather a
contingent of Shub Lugal soldiers and send them through
our corridor there to find it and shut it down as soon as the
meeting is over. When it comes to the other corridors to the
Living Realm that still remain closed, everyone agrees that
we need to maintain the rotation of opening select portals
so we can bring Reapers home, but it does lead us into the
most pressing matter and the one I’m most worried about.
It’s the one I’m most afraid no one will say yes to, and sure
a shit, I’m not wrong.
My proposition is quite simple. We need to go to the
Realm of Light and find the key to Soulfate.
“No,” Hotaru says when I propose reaching out to the
Realm of Light for permission to search for the next stone.
“Watch your mouth,” Ashen snaps.
Hotaru rolls her eyes. “No, Your Grace.” She shifts her
attention from Ashen to me. “The anunnaki cannot be
trusted, whether we have made alliances with individuals
there or not,” she says, her gaze slicing to Cole and back
again. “The stones can only be taken by immortals under
specific conditions, correct?”
“Yes,” I reply with a nod. “An ancient immortal with the
capability of traveling the realms without a chaperone.”
“So we can only send you, and the anunnaki likely have
traitors among them just as we have had among our own
kind. Whether Ember was working with the Nephilim for
their true purpose of controlling the fates or whether they
had successfully deceived her into starting a war among
the realms to distract us all while they took what they
wanted, she still was in contact with the enemy, operating
from the inside. Who’s to say the Realm of Light does not
suffer the same affliction of traitors in their midst? If we
send you, the anunnaki could seize our Queen, and the
Nephilim could take the Soulfate key before forcing you to
give up Deathfate as well. They would bring war here,
crushing this realm until they either found what they were
looking for or until you couldn’t bear it any longer, giving
them exactly what they wanted.”
 “Do not let the future run too far away from you,
Hotaru,” Imani says as she leans forward in her chair and
laces her graceful fingers on the black marble table. “Our
Queen hasn’t even set foot from the Throne Room and you
have her future mapped to her downfall.”
Hotaru scowls and crosses her arms. “It’s called risk
mitigation.”
“She has a point,” Davina interjects as her eyes fix to
mine. “It’s dangerous to send you. Is there someone else
we could send? Someone who also has the capability of
obtaining the stone but who would be less likely to catch
the attention of potential traitors?”
“That’s a good question, who else has the ability to
travel the realms without someone to guide their entry?” I
ask. “I always went with someone, both here and to the
Realm of Light.”
“Yes, but only because you didn’t know where the
passages were or how to activate them. Not necessarily
because you weren’t permitted entry on your own,” Ashen
replies. I look up and meet his eyes, his cognac gaze
flowing over my skin, taking in my unusual glow here that I
can’t see but all the demons can. “You already had access
to the Realm of Light after you saved me in Sanford. You
are able to travel to and from the Shadow Realm now that
we’ve mated.”
“Who else has that ability?” Maru asks. “Anyone else?”
“I do,” Cole says. “I would need to have a reason to meet
with someone in the Realm of Light to go back, otherwise it
would arouse suspicion if I showed up without cause.”
“I might also fit the requirements,” Ashen replies, a
crease appearing between his brows as he thinks through
the possibilities. “I can be summoned by the anunnaki
Aloros. Technically, though he needs to request my
assistance, I can pass into his realm without a guide. If that
is sufficient to fulfill the conditions of retrieving a fate key,
then he would also be to do it. He has the same ability to
travel here if I summon.”
“If that’s true, they might already have the Soulfate
stone freed if he’s found it,” Maru says as he runs a finger
across his forehead, his gaze trapped on the surface of the
polished table.
“Perhaps, but they also might not even know where it is,
just like we had no idea it was at the bottom of the sea,” I
say. I sigh, leaning back into the plush gold cushions of the
throne.
“What about me?” Ediye asks. “I have the free pass to
the Realm of Light. I could go. What would it take to have
the same unchaperoned access here?”
“Probably a reaping and then a resurrection from
Davina, I would guess, unless there’s another way,” I reply
as I glance up to Ashen, whose mouth is set in a grim line
as he shrugs. “Perhaps my sister fits the requirements too.
Are there any texts related to unchaperoned access to all
realms?”
“If there are any passages, I’d be willing to bet they’re
in the book you took from Ammon Hassan’s,” Ashen says as
I let out a groan. I fucking hate that book and the mental
gymnastics it’s taking to decipher its intricacies. Ashen
smirks as though he can read my thoughts, which probably
isn’t hard. I’m sure they’re written all over my face.
Naya leans forward, letting her gaze rest on each person
as she speaks. “Regardless of how it’s done, I don’t think
we need to make more of us who could be taken and used
for the purposes of securing the second stone. The fewer
the better.”
Cole nods next to her. “There could be more individuals
out there that we don’t know about who fit the criteria.
Now that we know only one stone is needed to pass the
gate, we need to find the others before the Nephilim do.”
“We have the Deathfate stone,” Hotaru says. “Our realm
is protected. If we keep our corridors shut, we will weather
this storm. As we always have. Alone.”
I rise from the throne, waving for the others to remain
seated. Silence follows as I walk to the windows
overlooking the Bay of Souls, the dark water below
glistening like an oil slick. A ripple disrupts the shifting
waves in the distance and I wonder if it’s Hooktopus
stalking the murk, stirring the nightmares of the human
souls that fester beneath the surface.
“I wish it were that simple, to just shut our realm and let
the storm rage,” I say to the bay that stretches into the fog.
“The Nephilim are resolved to get to the fates. Even if it
takes them centuries, they won’t just give up. Who knows
how long they’ve been trapped in the abyss. What would
you do to get out of hell? What would you give to never go
back?” I turn toward the Council. I hold Ashen’s gaze. “You
swam through our hell. What would you give to never touch
that water again?”
Ashen swallows, pain etched into his features, his eyes
pressing closed for a moment to open with dark flame.
“Anything but the one thing I cannot live without.”
My heart grows heavy in my chest as we watch one
another. When I finally look away and take a step forward, I
carry the warmth of Ashen’s gaze with me. “Wherever
they’ve been trapped, it must be just as bad as the Black
Sea. Maybe worse. And the Nephilim are not just
desperate. They are coordinated and determined. They will
be relentless. They will never give up. We must get that
stones and destroy Alahalsu before they do. If the Nephilim
capture it, they will find a way to use it against us until we
fall, whether our corridors are shut are not.”
We’re all staring at one another as though daring one
person to speak, the room filled with thudding hearts and
restless thoughts. I’m just about to suggest we take a break
when I hear running footsteps approaching from down the
hall. I rush into the corridor with the others following
behind me as Cyrus’s brawny frame draws to a halt in front
of us. Though his face is stern and reserved, his eyes are
wild with alarm. “The assembly hall. Hurry.”
He turns and starts running back the way he came as we
keep pace next to him. “What’s going on?” Ashen asks as
we take a left turn at speed.
“We received an urgent message from Keegan at the
portal in Narbonne. He brought him back through the
corridor.”
The fine hairs at my nape raise as claws seems to rake
across my spine. I grab the kaiken from the sheath on my
thigh. “Brought who?”
But as we enter the assembly hall, Cyrus doesn’t
answer.
The hellfire swords of ten Shub Lugal soldiers are
pointed to a man kneeling on the stone floor. His white
tunic and pants are streaked with gore. He clutches his
injured arm to his body, everything gone from the elbow
down as though it was torn off. Flesh and shattered bone
glisten with blood. His unblemished wings clink as the
feathers shift with each of his ragged inhalations. But the
agony in his expression is not just the torment of physical
pain.
“They have come for the Soulfate key,” Aloros wheezes,
despair painted across his beautiful face. “The Nephilim
are taking the Realm of Light.”
For a moment, it seems like all the air flees the wide
expanse of the Kur.
“How is this possible?” I ask, the guards lowering their
weapons as I rush to Aloros’s side. Ashen pulls his belt off
and tightens it across the angel’s bicep to stem the
bleeding.
“House Shabarra,” Aloros says through gritted teeth.
Sweat flows down the bewildered and broken expression on
Aloros’s face. “A contingent of traitors opened portals there
and let them in. They are fighting alongside them. They are
contained for now in that quarter of Anur, but they are
continuously taking more Nephilim in through the portals.
They have many fighters. And they brought hellfire.”
“We believe we know where the Nephilim might be
coming through to the Living Realm. Rusalimum, now
Jerusalem. Cyrus,” I say, shifting my attention to the soldier
as he nods. “Gather some trusted soldiers. Send them there
to find it and shut it down. See if they can identify where
they’re getting through to the Realm of Light and close the
corridors from that side too.”
Cyrus turns and carries out the orders, picking soldiers
for the task as Ediye works to staunch the bleeding from
Aloros’s injury. When Ashen finishes tying the tourniquet,
Ediye takes his wounded arm and examines the shattered
bone. I smell burnt skin and singed hair. Sections of his
flesh are charred and blistered.
“They knew you could summon Ashen?” I ask.
“Yes. I was about to call for him but was struck down
with a mace before I could start the summoning. The
Nephilim are strong,” Aloros says with a shudder. “Very
strong.”
Ediye lets Aloros’s arm down gently before examining
his ribs, prodding her fingers against them as he hisses in
pain. She meets my eyes when she straightens. “I need to
lie him down somewhere safe.”
I nod. “The Throne Room. We can use the table.”
Ediye turns her attention to Cole. “Get Wynter, have her
bring the same supplies she used for Eryx to stop him from
burning here. Tell her what happened and that I need my
healing materials, she’ll know what to bring.”
Cole motions for two guards to go with him and they
take off running for the residences as Ashen moves to
Aloros’s uninjured side and heaves the angel’s heavy arm
over his shoulder. Aloros is the taller and broader of the
two, but Ashen’s formidable strength keeps him steady
with ease as he pulls the angel to his feet. When the two
are balanced, Ashen focuses on the corridor ahead and
they start to limp in the direction of the Throne Room.
Aloros steals a puzzled glance at my husband as though he
never expected to receive the care he’s being handled with,
and a little surge of pride balloons in my heart for Ashen.
He feels it and slides a scowl in my direction. “If he touches
you with those wings, I will tear the other arm off myself.
Wings too,” Ashen says, and I smile, if only for a moment.
We walk in tense silence as we return to the Throne
Room. Of the Council, only Imani dares to come close to the
angel in our midst as she brings Aloros a glass of water
after Ashen heaves him onto the table. The other demons of
the Council keep back from the table, watching with both
curiosity and suspicion.
“How did you get here? How did you know where to
go?” I ask, using my dagger to cut a strip from my tunic
and then a slice through my hand, letting my blood saturate
the fabric so Ediye can press it to Aloros’s wound.
“Cole,” he replies with a grimace as Ediye starts
working as best she can on the angel while we wait for her
supplies. Hotaru lets out a disapproving growl, but I put up
my bloodied hand in a request for silence. Aloros glances at
her but continues. “He managed to get a message through
for how to seek you out if we experienced difficulties. I
never thought…” he says, trailing off as his gaze falls to the
floor.
“You said they are contained for now?”
“Yes.”
“How long?” Ashen asks.
“Maybe a day at most, unless we can close the last
portals in house Shabarra. I closed two before I was
injured,” the angel replies. “We believe they have come for
the Soulfate stone. They are attacking House Esagila,
targeting the main pathways leading to the ziggurat. That
is where the stone resides, in the lowest level.”
“The Nephilim would need an immortal capable of
taking it. Have they found someone?”
 “Possibly. I recognized an apothecary named Lazarus
from the Guild of Gilgamesh Council among them. He has
access to our realm. Do you know him?”
Ashen shakes his head. “No, but that doesn’t mean he
doesn’t have the ability to travel here. Perhaps the former
leadership here had somehow granted him unchaperoned
access.”
Aloros nods, and his gaze drops to the floor once more.
His hummingbird heartbeat quickens. He swallows.
“Shortly before I left, the enemy began mobilizing toward
the gates to the House of Virtues. We believe it is an
attempt to divide our attention, to draw us away from their
target,” he says, his voice strained. “House Esagila and
House Borsippa fight to keep the Nephilim from the House
of Virtues. They are weaker there. They have few fighters.
The souls of many children and youth reside there. If the
enemy gets in, many souls will perish in everlasting
death.”
Silence descends on the room. Aloros’s head drops. His
eyes are pressed closed. Ashen looks to me, his lips set in a
grim line.
I smell Aloros’s tears as they slide across his skin to tap
on his stained linen pants. His expression is every facet of
agony when he opens his eyes and looks right into me, as
though he could pull my soul free with nothing more than a
desperate glance. Without breaking the connection
between us, he pulls a heavy chain from around his neck,
withdrawing a hexagonal gold pendant set with rubies and
lapis lazuli stones. “The key to access the hidden portals of
the Realm of Light.” He holds it for me to take. I remove
the square that hangs around my neck, holding one in each
hand. I can already see how they fit together, the divots in
the Shadow Realm pendant made to fit the stones in the
hexagon for the Realm of Light. “Long ago, before most of
us even existed, our realms were not enemies. We were
halves of a whole. And now we need your help. We call for
the mercy of the Shadow Realm.”
I close my fingers around the gold and gems, imprinting
them on my palms.
“And we will come,” I say. No one argues, but I see the
wariness in their eyes when I look around the room. I gaze
back into Aloros’s soul, just as he’s looked into mine. “We
will fight for the Realm of Light.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 31

“I ’m quite capable of dressing myself for battle,” I say

as Ashen kneels before me next to the bed in our
greenhouse bedroom of the cliffside manor. My hands lay
on his shoulders as I balance on one foot, the other resting
on his bent leg. His fingers trace a slow path across my
skin as he pulls the first leg of a pair of leathers up my calf,
his tattoos glowing with gentle light as the war draws ever
closer.
“I know, but it’s more fun when I do it.”
“Actually, it’s more fun when you take them off.”
Ashen smiles, his eyes not straying from the steady work
of his hands. “I intend to do that too,” he says, placing a
kiss against my knee. “After we win.”
“If we do.”
Another kiss embellishes my flesh with a whisper of
Sumerian, this time to the inside of my thigh. Kianga gasan,
he says, those words warmed by the core of his soul.
There’s another kiss, then another, each a little higher, the
leather following the heat of his lips. “We will win,” he
says.
There’s a long pause of silence as Ashen works his way
further up my leg, his procession full of fire and reverence.
He takes his time, slowing as though the world outside this
room does not exist. But it does. This time, it’s not the past
that haunts my every thought. It’s the future.
“What if we don’t win?” I whisper, but Ashen continues
his worship of my skin, undeterred. “What if we fail? What
if the Realm of Light falls?”
“It won’t, vampire,” he says between kisses. “You are too
stubborn to lose.”
“What if you and I fall when we’re there? Do we still
resurrect here?”
Ashen stills this time. His eyes meet mine as his palm
heats my thigh. He leans back a little as he watches me. “I
don’t know.”
Fucksakes. Why couldn’t the damned demon just lie?
That is one potentially large wrench in my backup plan of
‘sex in the resurrection chamber, part deux’. The grimace
creeping through my face must be worse than it feels,
because Ashen releases his hold on my leg and grips the
back of my neck with his calloused hand, his gaze latching
to mine.
“We will not find out the answer to that particular
question,” he says.
“But—”
“Sexual fantasies aside,” Ashen purrs as he rises enough
to push my body back, my leathers forgotten on my leg,
“we are not going to give the enemy the chance. And if you
like the Resurrection Chamber so much, vampire, you just
have to say so. I will gladly bend you over the altar and
fuck you until your screams echo on the cavern walls.”
A shiver slithers up my spine. Goosebumps pepper my
arms. “Filthy demon,” I hiss as Ashen presses my back into
the mattress, his smile tracing the pulse in my neck. A
bruise blossoms beneath my skin as he sucks on my flesh.
“We’re supposed to be getting ready for war.”
“We are,” Ashen says between kisses that flow down my
chest. He sucks on my nipple through the black lace of my
bra, letting go to cast me a wicked smile. “I’m eliminating
distractions. I would not want you to be mired in sexual
fantasies while battling Nephilim.”
I snort a laugh that turns to a gasp when his fingers
trace the edges of my panties, circling my clit through the
damp fabric. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re the Master of War. How do I ensure you’re not…
distracted? You already know I have a thing for the
Resurrection Chamber. Maybe you should tell me one of
your fantasies so we can ensure it doesn’t steal your focus
on the battlefield.”
A rumbling growl resonates in Ashen’s chest. Within a
breath our positions are flipped, and I’m straddling the
Reaper with his erection trapped beneath my soaked
panties. He grips my breasts as he grinds against the seam
of my body. “You want to know one of my many fantasies of
my wife? Then pull your panties to the side and slide my
cock into your pussy and I will tell you.”
My grin is full of devious mischief as I roll my hips and
tease the edges of his demands. I glide over his hard length
and he groans, his palms growing hotter through the lace
covering my breasts. “I like it when you make promises in
our bed, Reaper.”
Ashen trails a finger slowly from my chest, down my
stomach, then beneath the hem of my panties, coating it in
my arousal. He makes a show of bringing that wicked
finger to his lips and hovering there before tracing his
fingertip with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth. He
pulls it out slowly, his gaze holding mine without letting go.
“Almost as much as you like my demands. Now pull your
panties to the side, vampire.”
As much as I’m suddenly desperate for him to fill me and
sate the ache I feel deep in my core, I do love to tease this
man.
“I could be such a brat right now,” I whisper with a
sinful grin.
 “But you won’t be.”
“You don’t think so?”
Ashen shakes his head, an equally devious smile
quirking the corners of his lips as he folds his hands
beneath his head like he has all the time in the world. I
grind harder against his erection, but aside from the
skipped beat in his heart, nothing about him changes.
I sit back a little and look at Ashen with suspicion, my
touch tracing the carved muscles of his abs. “What are you
up to, demon?”
Ashen tries to control his smug grin, but he can’t
smother the sparks igniting in his eyes. “I realized
something in my careful observations of the volatile, vicious
creature who is my bloodmated wife.”
“I like the flattery. Continue.”
“She doesn’t just tolerate surprises. She doesn’t just like
them. She adores them.”
He has a point. When they come from him, I do love his
surprises. “So, you’re going to what…bribe me into
behaving myself?”
“More like I’m going to lavish an ancient and powerful
immortal with offerings until she grants me the wish of
acquiescing to my demands, for once.”
I bite my smile into submission. “Lavish, hmm? With
what, exactly?”
Ashen reaches for the edge of the bedspread, knocking
pillows to the floor as he pulls it back to reveal a series of
black boxes, sliding one across the bed toward us. My smile
erupts as I take in the massive bow and a matching black
card, the note written in gold ink with Ashen’s precise
penmanship.
Not a weighted blanket.
I give him a suspicious smile and lift the lid from the
box. Inside is a set of silky sex sheets but in a creamy
white, with a matching nightgown. The edges are
embellished with gold piping, the pillowcase embroidered
with a message in blue thread the color of my mated mark.
I let out a riotous laugh, holding up the scrolling stitches.
I’m feeling fangtastic, the embroidery says.
“Oh my God, Ashen. You know the path straight to this
vampire’s heart.”
Ashen beams a broad smile at me, his skin vibrant. The
lantern light captures every angle of emotion in his face.
Mischief and delight glow in his eyes. He pulls the next box
toward me, this one heavier. Another black card is nestled
beneath the bow. Not fifty times your size, the cryptic note
says. Warmth blooms beneath my bones knowing he
remembered my passing comment about finding clothes
that fit before we were separated in the Nephilim attack.
I set the lid aside. A charcoal-colored tunic rests folded
on top of matte black chainmail of the finest quality I’ve
ever seen. The links tinkle as they shift into place when I
lift the armored shirt.
“It’s so light,” I say, balancing the weight in my palms.
“Ceramic composite. The finest the realm produces. I
figured you would need armor sooner or later.” Ashen
traces a finger across the waistband of my panties then
down the edge that skirts my leg. “Panties, vampire,” he
purrs as his finger glides back up the center, pressing
against my clit as he goes. “Take my cock in that pretty
cunt and put the chainmail on, then I’ll show you what’s
next.”
His demands ignite a tingling current in my skin. I keep
hold of Ashen’s hooded gaze as I curl my fingers around his
hard length and pull my panties to the side with my other
hand, guiding him to my opening. I sink down slowly, so
slowly, savouring the heat and fullness as I glide onto
Ashen’s cock, inch by torturous inch. When he’s as deep as
I can take him, I pull the fitted tunic on and then the
chainmail, pausing to watch as Ashen takes in every detail.
He narrows his eyes with a thoughtful frown.
 “It’s missing something,” he says as he grips my waist
with one hand, guiding my rhythm as I start to rock my
hips. He reaches over with his free hand and pulls another
box toward us. “This one next.”
Not wings, this note says.
I open the box to reveal a brushed gold scale mail cape
and matching corset. The short cape flows over the
shoulders and partway down the back, the layers of scales
designed to protect the wearer’s scapulae. It looks nearly
like a set of folded, short wings, the garment bordered by
heavy gold chains that balance the fine craftsmanship of
the scales.
“No axes this time, I hope,” Ashen says, his voice low
and rich as I hold the pieces up and marvel at the detail,
the precise tooling and the drama of the layered sheafs of
gold. “Put it on.”
Ashen steadies the motion of my hips as I slide the
corset over the black chainmail. The mixed pieces settle in
place like a second, armored skin, Ashen letting out a low
rumble of appreciation at the way the scales of the corset
hug my curves. His fingers tighten on my flesh, branding
my bare thighs with heat as he spreads them wider,
burying his cock in the depths of my pussy as I bite back a
whimpering moan.
“I’ve never been fucked into my clothes before,” I say,
my voice breathless as I slip the cape onto my shoulders,
fixing the chains closed across my ribs to keep it in place.
“Good. In such a long immortal life, I’m happy to have
been able to give you a first of anything.”
I lean over Ashen, tracing the slope of his cheek and the
line of his jaw. “You’ve given me all my best firsts, Ashen.” I
relish the glimmer of surprise in his eyes before I press my
lips to his throat. “My first trip to another realm.”
“You consider that a good first?” he asks, his tone
skeptical.
 “I’d say it turned out pretty great in the long run, the
interlude with Gallus aside,” I reply with a press of my lips
to his surging pulse. The taste of his inked skin threads
across my tongue, mixing with the nectar of venom. “You
gave me my first comfort in flame,” I say between kisses,
remembering the way Ashen’s arm had slipped behind my
back when we passed through his corridor into the Shadow
Realm for the first time. “My first dance among the
Reapers. My first introduction to the merits of silky sex
sheets. My first fangria.”
“If I remember correctly, you suffered for that one.”
“It was worth it. You brought me bacon the next
morning. I think you like to bring me snacks. You even
brought me my first take-out douchebag meal.”
“The human with the crooked dick in Ravello? No one
had brought you prey before?”
I shake my head, smiling fondly at the memory. “No, you
were the first. Just like you were my first binding spell. My
first rescuer in the Realm of Light. My first resurrection.”
Ashen smirks as he shunts his hips with a powerful
thrust from below, eliciting a gasp from me. “If I’d realized
earlier how much you liked the Resurrection Chamber,
we’d be there right now.”
“First time making love in the Resurrection Chamber,
but definitely not the last,” I say with a fading laugh. My
touch traces the lines of Ashen’s mark. There are so many
moments in the few short months we’ve known each other
where I shared with him something I’d never shared with
anyone. And so many moments I would never want to have
again, not because I want to forget, but because each is a
precious star so bright that its hue could never be
replicated. “You gave me my first time making love above
the clouds. My first and only wedding. My first and only
mate. My first and only all-consuming love that lives in my
very soul.” My smile dims as I lean back and my gaze
tangles with Ashen’s. I still the motion of my hips as I
watch these secrets of mine settle into his heart. “The first
time someone told me they loved me when I had nothing to
give in return, and yet they still loved me anyway. The first
time I tried everything I could to push someone away, and
yet they still kept coming back for me. That was you. You’re
all my best firsts, Ashen.”
Ashen whispers my name and his palm warms my cheek
as a sudden swell of tears glass my vision. He swallows, his
throat bobbing. A shine films his eyes before Ashen
shutters his gaze away and draws me down into a kiss, its
fire equal parts love and desire. When we part, I push
myself up and shake the heavier emotions away, biting back
the rise of tears to give Ashen my sweetest smile.
“You look enchantingly wicked,” Ashen says as his eyes
narrow.
“Well, depending on what’s in that last box, Reaper, you
might even give me my first time being a well-behaved,
obedient little vampire.”
Oh, how I love the way the crimson flame glows in his
eyes as my words hit their target.
Ashen’s hand darts out for the last box and I smile as he
slides it toward us, resting it on his chest.
Not horns, the note says.
He lifts the lid for me and my breath lingers in my chest,
clutched tight by my lungs. I know the instant I see it that
Ashen made it.
The simple gold crown glows against the black velvet
lining of the box. Layers of scales that match the armor
flow from each side toward the center to frame a crescent
moon cradling an eight-pointed star of lapis lazuli. Ashen
pulls it from my fingers and settles it into my braids, his
fingers tracing the line of my cheek as his eyes roam over
every inch of the fierce royal I’m dressed to become. “My
warrior Queen. So beautiful,” he whispers.
“You made this, didn’t you,” I say as I run my touch over
the delicate scales adorning my hair.
 “Yes. From the gold mask that was on the statue the
Nephilim broke. It felt right to take that which was meant
to hide you and reform it into the symbol of your power.”
My heart aches with Ashen’s words, my hand resting
over its armored encasements like I could catch the beats
that skitter through my chest. But before I can lose myself
too deeply in everything I feel, Ashen gives me a grin that
grows every bit as sinful as what I would expect from the
most powerful demon of the Shadow Realm. My answering
smile is suspicious as I tilt my head and regard him.
“What? What is that look?”
“There is one more offering for my immortal Queen, but
it didn’t make sense to put it on the bed,” Ashen says,
nodding his head toward the door that leads to the
sculpture garden and the stairs to the lower levels. “In the
kitchen. A Rocket Appartamento espresso machine.”
I go completely still.
And silent.
I don’t even breathe.
Ashen’s smirk is one of absolute triumph.
“You…got me…what?..”
“That espresso machine, vampire. Surely your infallible
vampire memory has not forgotten. You know, with the
copper circles? If I recall correctly, vampire, that’s the one
you had in Sanford. Oh, and I had another installed in the
Kur. And at Bit Akalum. You know, just in case.”
I manage to blink. Not much else. Ashen’s eyes spark
into dark, devious flames. A thick swallow passes down my
throat and Ashen watches the motion with ravenous
hunger.
“Give me literally every debauched fantasy and demand
that you’ve got, demon, because I will be the best-behaved
vampire you have ever seen. Probably.”
I blink and I’m on my back with one of my wrists pinned
above my head, the other trapped between us on my chest.
“Sadly, we will have to save some of the fun for later,
considering we’re needed in the Kur imminently,” Ashen
says in my ear as he presses my thighs to the mattress and
resumes a rhythm of deep strokes that have me failing to
contain a whimper. “However,” he says as he braces his
free hand on the mattress and stares down at me with
heated longing, “I would love nothing more than to listen to
my wife beg for me to make her come with all her prettiest,
filthiest words as she wears her armor and crown.”
Ashen slowly winds my braid around his fist, pressing
searing kisses to my jaw. His strokes take on a languid
quality, as though he has all the time in the world to wait
for those words to fall from my lips. A war, the fate of the
realms, the enemies nearing our doorstep, these are distant
dreams, nightmares for another world to worry on.
“I’m waiting, vampire…”
My breath shudders. Ashen’s gentle bite to my throat
contains a devilish smile. “I want you to fuck me, slow at
first as you watch me touch myself, until you can’t help but
go a little faster, a little deeper, each stroke of your cock
bringing us closer and closer to coming undone,” I say as
my free hand slides down my armor beneath Ashen’s
watchful gaze until my fingers slip beneath my panties to
draw circles over my clit. “Before we get too close, I want
you to flip me over. I want you to push my thighs together
and slide your cock back into my pussy and take me from
behind. But I don’t just want you to take me. I need you to
claim me.”
For a breath of time, I think I’ve broken my husband.
Sparks swirl in his eyes. The crimson flame flares to life.
Smoke coats the bed as Ashen’s grip tightens on my braid,
the tension almost imperceptible. Except to a vampire.
I give Ashen an innocent grin.
The flame in Ashen’s eyes burns brighter as he slides to
the tip of his sex and back in as far as I can take him. His
slow strokes build a steady swell of motion and I swirl
patterns over my clit as he watches in the moments when
he breaks from pressing his lips to my neck and jaw. The
pace builds and builds, and I feel my orgasm creeping ever
closer, my muscles tightening in anticipation. A moan
escapes my lungs on a trembling breath and Ashen growls
as he slips out of me completely, as though it’s physically
painful to tear himself away.
“Turn over,” he grits out as he lets go of my wrist and
braid. Our eyes lock with equal hunger as I watch the effort
it takes for him to cage the voracious demon residing in
every dark corner of his soul. It’s the same creature within
him I hope is about to rise to the surface. “On your knees.”
I give Ashen a diabolical smile, but I obey. To a point. If I
want the demon to come out and play, I have to make a few
dirty moves first.
I sit up and draw my knees beneath me, then shuffle
slowly until my back faces him, but I don’t bend over.
Technically, I did exactly as he asked, but I can feel the
flare of heat behind me when I make no further moves.
“Bend over,” Ashen commands.
“You didn’t say please. I’m still a Queen, you know.”
A deep, rumbling sound of discontent vibrates through
the still air and I smile to myself. “Vampire,” Ashen warns,
his voice deep and menacing. “Bend. Over.”
I lean forward, my movement unhurried despite the
rising heat at my back. I stop with my hands braced on the
silky sheets.
“Lower,” Ashen says, and doesn’t utter another word
until my cheek is flush with the bed. “Legs together.”
I draw my legs tight to one another and there’s a long
beat of silence. The bed dips as Ashen moves closer, and
then my braid is back in the grip of his hand. His other
traces a path down the armor above my spine until it
reaches my panties, slipping them to the side. Ashen slides
the tip of his cock across my sex in gentle strokes and
presses at my opening but doesn’t enter. My need for him
coils in twisting knots of heat low in my core.
 “What are you waiting for, demon?” I ask. What I
intended to be a taunt comes out as little more than a
desperate whisper, answered by a dark chuckle from the
Reaper.
“For you to beg for it,” Ashen says as he tightens his
grip on my braid and leans in closer. “Beg me to give you
the release I know you crave. Beg for me to fill your pretty
cunt until it’s dripping with my cum.”
I shudder as he presses his erection harder to my
entrance, but not enough to slip inside. And then it’s gone,
his only remaining touch the fist that clenches my braid.
My belly spins at the loss of him as a whimper of need
passes my lips.
“Stubborn creature. You refuse to make anything easy,
don’t you—”
“Please, Ashen. Please,” I say, letting the word and its
heavy note of desperation thicken the air between us. “I
need you to fuck me until the only realm I know exists is
the pleasure you give me. I need my demon to hit every
deep and hidden spot until he fills me. I need my Master of
War to rage a battle on my body. I’m begging you.”
“Was that truly so hard, wife?” Ashen asks, his breath
spilling across my ear. His cock is back at my entrance,
pressing to the seam of my body once more.
“Yes, actually.”
“Good. After the hellish night of need you put me
through refusing me a single word, you deserve a little
punishment, a little justice.” He teases me again,
withdrawing his touch as a cry climbs my throat,
demanding to be let free even though I won’t let it. “But I
am merciful. And you already know I can deny you nothing.
If it’s a battle you want, I will give it to you.”
Ashen slides into me with a brutal thrust. That cry of
need that was clawing free of my chest unleashes as a
sound of relief. Ashen withdraws completely and slams in
again. And again. And again. He wraps my braid around his
fist and pulls my head back until my spine is bowed. His
other hand grips my shoulder until the sharp points of my
armor dig into his palm and the scent of blood rises in the
air. The thrusts come impossibly harder, my sex aching for
the release that’s starting to build like a storm of fireworks
in my nerves.
“Say that word I like so much, vampire,” Ashen grits out
as he gives a delicious tug on my hair. “And make it pretty.”
My pussy clenches in fluttering waves as the vicious
thrusts hit deep within me. “I want to come with you. I
want to feel you spilling into me. I need you to bring me
release. Please. Husband.”
Every nerve seems to explode in my body as I come
apart. My body grips tight to Ashen’s as though it’s
unwilling to ever let go. I cry out his name, each one of his
strokes rubbing against my G-spot and drawing the orgasm
out, making every second feel like a wave of euphoria
sucking me under until I drown in it.
“You can come once more, my Queen. And if you ask
nicely, I will fill you.”
I whimper as the next orgasm already starts to build
deep in my core. Ashen pistons into me with the full length
of his erection and picks up the pace. His hips slam into my
ass. He tears my panties off with a snap that bites my skin
and makes me gasp, ratcheting up my desire. His balls slap
my clit with every punishing thrust.
“Words, vampire,” Ashen grits out as he tries to hold his
own release back.
“Fuck,” is all I can manage.
His fist tightens on my hair, his fingers digging into the
flesh of my hip. “More.”
“Fucking fill me, Ashen. Please…I can’t…” I can’t hold
back any longer as my release breaks me apart, filling my
head with pressure, deafening me to the sound of Ashen’s
roar. My blood thunders through my veins as he pulses in
the depths of my sex, filling me with heat. The mark on my
chest tingles with an electrical current. My darkened vision
returns with sparkling stars in the peripheral shadows as
Ashen’s thrusts slow. I’m breathless, boneless. Even after
Ashen’s gentling strokes finally stop, we still don’t move,
trying to regain control over our galloping hearts.
When our breath comes back to us, Ashen pulls out, and
the weight of everything we’re about to face seems to
creep closer in the dark corners of the room. He cleans me
with gentle strokes of a soft towel, pressing a kiss to my hip
when he’s done. We dress in silence. I lace up my leathers
and strap my kaiken on my thigh, then pull on my boots. I
watch as Ashen straps on his armor, then turns to me. His
dark smile banks the embers of worry that seem to flare
brighter in my chest with every moment that passes.
“I’m under no illusions about who just conquered who,
wife,” Ashen says as he holds my katana aloft, the
brightening glow of his knuckles reflecting on the midnight
sheets. “Now let’s go win a war.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 32

I once again stand on the dais in the Kur with jizz

stuck to my legs.
I shift a little on my feet. My skin tugs where the jizz
glues it to my leathers and I groan a little in irritation. “You
missed some of your spunk, Reaper,” I whisper to Ashen as
he stands to my right, looking over the demons standing
before us.
“At least you’re wearing pants this time,” he whispers
back.
We fall into silence as the Shub Lugal file into the
assembly hall of the Kur, fanning out behind the audience
of demons who shift their attention among those of us on
the dais. Most linger on the injured angel, their expressions
distrustful. I scent the musk of fear in the room.
When the soldiers are standing at attention, Cyrus
moves to the front of the platform. “Hail Queen Leucosia,”
his voice booms across the hall.
“Hail Queen Leucosia,” the Shadow Realm replies.
It still feels strange to me to hear that, but maybe a little
less so now than it did in the beginning. I’ve come to
realize that it’s not like a piece of armor that you just put
on and it fits. It has to settle over your skin. The links take
time to unfold and shift into place. It’s a gradual process to
absorb what I’ve taken, and for it to become a part of me.
 And now I finally feel ready to wear it. I have to be.
I step forward to the front of the dais. “Shadow Realm,”
I say, letting my voice carry over the crowd and echo to the
heights of the vaulted ceiling that pierces the fog. “We have
gathered you here because the Nephilim have come for the
Realm of Light.”
The murmurs swirl from the audience. I let them
whisper for a moment as their fiery gazes shift toward the
wounded angel on the stage.
“I know what you’ve been led to believe, that the Realm
of Light is our enemy. I know many of you question why we
should care what happens to the home of the anunnaki. But
this was not always the way. It is the deception you’ve been
fed over millennia, and all the while both sides were
puppeted against one another, until the whisper of war
became a shout. We all believed we could take from one
another and stand on our own as the world crumbled
around us. We believed in good,” I say, holding the
hexagonal pendant of the Realm of Light in my left palm,
the chain dangling from my hand, “versus evil.” I raise the
square of the key to the portals of the Shadow Realm.
The whispers of the crowd rise again as I fit the gems of
the two pendants together. I feel them slide into place
together between my hands. I press my palms tight and
twist the two halves in opposite directions. There’s a click
as they lock to one another and a burst of wind surges from
behind me, nearly forcing me to steady myself with a step
forward. The audience gasps, some of them stepping back,
knocking into one another, the flames in their eyes growing
brighter as they take in the sudden portal. I turn, meeting
Aloros’s eyes for an instant as I pivot to see the rupture of
the realms behind me. There’s a section of the air that
looks torn and filled with still water, the edges glowing with
tiny flickers and flares of light. Beyond, I can see part of an
empty art studio, abandoned canvases and paints lit with
the flickering glow of flames beyond the windows.
 “House Esagila. The art studio,” Aloros says. I nod and
click the pendant again with another turn. The scene on the
other side of the portal changes. There’s fire and fighting,
angels battling one another, and soldiers in golden masks
with unfamiliar armor. Nephilim. An angel on the other side
takes note of the sudden portal and gasps, lurching
backward. The voices of the demons behind me grow
louder with alarm. “House Shabarra,” Aloros confirms, his
voice grave. I click the pendant again. This time I recognize
the location. We see angels gathering the souls of young
children, ushering them down a cobblestone road as fire
rages from a building down the street. Some of the children
cry, tears streaking glistening paths through the soot on
their faces. Some carry blank expressions, the fear and
confusion too overwhelming for them to process. “House of
Virtues,” Aloros whispers, his voice choking around the
three words. I twist the two pendants apart and turn to the
audience, closing the portal.
“Reapers of the Shadow Realm,” I say, stepping forward
until I’m at the edge of the dais. The voices simmer down
but the scents of confusion and fear and even rage grow
stronger on the thrum of heartbeats before me. “The
Nephilim know I have the first stone and are now searching
for the second one, which is hidden in the Realm of Light. If
they obtain it and find the gateway, they will have access to
the fates. Their aim is to seize control of the last of the
gods and remake every realm to their design. The Nephilim
appear to have found someone who can remove the stone
and they will destroy anything that stands in their way.
Make no mistake, Shadow Realm. There is no hiding. There
is no shutting our borders and believing we can endure.
They will come for us, and they will decimate our realm,
unless I can get to the Soulfate stone before they do. We
need to get it out of their reach.”
I turn away, heading toward Ediye who stands with Eryx
and Cole, all three dressed in the armor of the Shadow
Realm, weapons sheathed at their sides. “You look like a
badass bitch,” I whisper to Ediye as my gaze rakes down
the matte black breast plate and the black leathers clinging
to her legs.
“You look pretty hot yourself. Very Queenly.”
“Fake it ‘till you make it, right?”
Ediye’s smile fades and she reaches out, taking my
hand, her expression turning serious. “You never faked
anything but death, Lu. It’s why you were meant for this.”
I try to contain the love I feel for my best friend, but
there’s no way I can. I surge forward and grip her in a tight
hug, reaching out to take Cole’s hand as I do. “Be careful. I
don’t know what you’re going to find on the other side.”
“I know,” she says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “We’ll
be okay, Lu. We’ll take as many as are willing to come.”
When we let go of one another I turn toward Eryx. His
wings shift behind him as he straightens. “What can I do?”
“Guide us from the art studio to the ziggurat in House
Esagila. The stone is there in the lowest levels.”
Eryx nods and I turn to Hotaru next. “Your grace,” she
says, worry weighing heavily in her eyes as they flick to
where the portal had just been on the dais.
“I need you to take these,” I say, giving her the two keys.
She swallows as she looks at the pendants I drop onto her
palms. “I need you to work with Aloros to shift the portals
and send whoever is willing to fight to the right places. He
will help guide you. Just fit them together and twist,” I say,
mimicking the motion with my hands. Hotaru meets my
eyes and I smile. “I know you care about this realm. I saw it
in you. I trust you, Hotaru.”
A look of concern flashes across Hotaru’s face before
she nods. “Yes, my Queen.”
“Wynter,” I say, turning next to the apothecary who
stands with Roman in the shadows at the edge of the dais.
She steps forward with a bow of her head. “Any demons
who wish to come through to the Realm of Light, can you
make it comfortable to do that, like you did for Ashen?” I
ask, nodding toward my husband whose covered wrists are
stamped with bands similar to Eryx’s. “As many as you can
manage, if there are any at all.”
Wynter glances to the audience and back to me,
determination fueling her beating heart. “Yes. I can do
that.”
I place a hand on her shoulder and glance up to Roman,
a silent understanding passing between us to keep the
apothecary safe. A deep breath fills my lungs as I let go and
turn, stepping to Ashen’s side.
Fear pulls the tether taught between us. Pride and
determination warms every point of the scepter embedded
in my skin. Ashen doesn’t smile as he withdraws his sword.
The hellfire ripples as it comes alive on his blade.
I stay close to my husband but turn to the audience one
more time. Maybe the last time. That thought crumples the
flesh of my heart. I look across the demons who watch me,
the thoughts of souls pressing on the veil in my mind, and I
worry for all of them. Not just the souls or the crawlers, but
for the Reapers themselves. Because I’ve come to realize
the most important truth of this realm.
“I will not force any of you to fight this battle. Not even
the Shub Lugal,” I say, and a murmur floats through the
room, quiet protests joining from the Council behind me. “I
can only ask you to. I have felt an echo of what you felt. I
know you suffer in the reaping. And I’ve come to believe
the soul of a demon is the brightest soul of all. You sacrifice
a piece of yourselves to give justice. It hurts you. It scars
you. And still you endure. You never asked for that life, and
yet you persevere. So, I will not force you to sacrifice
anything more when you give so much already. But even
though it might not seem like our war today, it is, and it will
come for us, sooner or later. There is no way the Realm of
Light will win without the help of the Shadow Realm. You
are the only ones who can save them now. Because there is
no other creature as resilient, as determined, or as
powerful as you.”
Before I can see their answers in their eyes, I turn away,
nodding once to Hotaru. She presses the keys together and
clicks them into place, turning them once to create the
portal to the art studio of Esagila.
I withdraw the katana at my back and smile up at my
husband. “I’m gonna hiss really loud this time. Like, a lot.”
Ashen gives a breath of a laugh and spins his sword in
an arc, the glyphs on his knuckles glowing as though they
sense the impending battle. “I might growl a bit.”
“With the wings?”
“Maybe.”
“I wouldn’t complain.”
Our smiles fade and I look over my shoulder as Eryx
closes ranks behind us, giving a nod as he readies his
sword for whatever we’ll face on the other side.
I cast one fleeting glance to the sea of demons behind
me, and I smile.
Then I turn ahead and stride through the portal, into the
battle for the Realm of Light.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 33

W e step through the watery film separating the

realms and into the dimly lit art room that smells
of paint and pastels, canvas and clay. Distant flames flicker
on the other side of the window, casting the space in a
warm orange glow that feels discordant with the shouting
and the clank of weapons that come from the city streets.
We say nothing as we glance at one another and head to
the nearest window.
We’re one story above the road, which appears quiet at
first. The fighting must be a few streets over, but it sounds
vicious. We watch in silence, and it isn’t long until a few
souls rush by, glancing over their shoulders as they run.
They disappear out of view as a small contingent of five
Nephilim march down the street, their faces covered with
golden masks, obsidian axes clutched in their hands. An
angel lands in front of them, halting their progress as she
engages them in a short-lived fight. The anunnaki holds her
own for a few minutes until of the Nephilim strikes her ribs
with an ax, another hitting the joint of her wing as she falls,
feathers scattering on the cobblestones like bloodied
blades. A third Nephilim soldier withdraws a small ampule
from a pouch at his side and lights it before throwing it
down on the injured angel. When they seem satisfied that
the anunnaki will not put out the flames in her writhing
anguish, they walk away, leaving her to scream and die in
solitude.
“Christ,” I whisper, laying a hand on my armored chest
as my heart thunders. “That was fast.”
“Five against one.”
“Still…”
“They’ve brought hellfire,” Eryx says, and Ashen nods. “I
guess they’re not counting on the demons coming to our
aid. They must know you can withstand it.”
“We shouldn’t count on the Shadow Realm coming
either,” I reply. “We need to assume it will just be the three
of us until at least Cole and Ediye can make it. That might
be all we’ve got.”
Eryx gives a grim nod. “We’d better go. If the Nephilim
are here in Esagila, it’s likely they’re getting closer to the
ziggurat. We’ve got some distance to cover to get there.”
We nod to one another and follow Eryx out of the room
and down a dark hallway that leads to a staircase. The
foyer is empty and undisturbed, as though war doesn’t
already rage just outside the tall double doors. We crack
one of them open just enough that I can listen for footsteps
on the other side. When I’m sure there’s no one there, we
creep out onto the street.
Flames glow against the night sky over the buildings
behind us as we jog down the street, keeping close to the
buildings and darting into alleyways to communicate in
whispers. On occasion, I can see the top of the ziggurat
looming ahead, its golden point reflecting the light of the
burning city like a beacon. Eryx was right, we have a lot of
streets to cover before we make it there.
And it doesn’t take long for us to run into trouble.
We round a corner and are clinging to the edge of the
street as a slew of arrows rains down on us, their whistling
trajectories the only warning for us to find cover. Eryx is
quick to move and shelters all three of us with his wings.
Arrows clink on his feathers and fall to the road, and the
onslaught is just starting to slow when I hear three pairs of
footsteps running toward us. Ashen pushes his way free of
Eryx’s wings before the arrows have stopped and meets the
first Nephilim with his sword, cutting him down with a slice
across the throat. The enemy hasn’t even hit the ground
when Ashen is on the next one, plunging his sword through
the aggressor’s armor and into his heart. Smoke erupts
from Ashen’s shoulders as he fends off the third Nephilim,
and I push myself up to rush forward, dropping into a slide
beneath the cover of Ashen’s wings to slice the Nephilim’s
inner thigh. It cuts through the artery and brings him to the
ground in a rush of blood. I thrust my sword into the
Nephilim’s back and cut my way up as I stand, his bones
snapping like a beat to the melody of my vicious hiss.
“Well,” I say as Eryx joins us. “I guess they might know
we’re here now.”
Eryx gives a weak smile and we start running before the
arrows begin to fall. We make it another two blocks before
we engage in battle again, this time with four Nephilim,
though we’re joined by an injured angel who manages to
take down two on his own. We keep pushing onward,
gaining and losing more angels as we go, encountering
larger groups of Nephilim soldiers as we gradually inch our
way closer to the ziggurat.
It takes at least two hours of fighting to make it just four
blocks closer.
Even despite the slow fighting, the blood, the death, the
screaming and fire that surrounds us, it isn’t until we turn
onto a wide, main road that when I truly believe we might
be fucked. Other side streets and alleyways are barricaded,
whether by the enemy or the angels I don’t know, but there
is no other way but to pass into the carnage that’s erupted
on the road marked with a simple sign. Spes Aeterna.
Everlasting Hope.
But there is no hope here.
 The road is slick with blood. Nephilim fight with savage
grace against the angels trying to hold them off from
progressing closer to the ziggurat, and even through the
flames I can see that this is a straight line to the structure.
The dead are everywhere, enemies, anunnaki, even souls,
their weapons still clutched in their hands, their unseeing
eyes unblinking. We’re sucked into the battle as though
swept away by an unforgiving, relentless tide. There are
bursts of flame as incendiaries are thrown from Nephilim
hiding in shadows or crouching on the tops of buildings.
Angels fly overhead, trying to subdue them, some falling
from the night sky as they’re struck down by balls of flame.
I fight forward through the chaos, the shining eye of the
ziggurat like a lure in a raging sea. I kill and maim my way
deeper into the street, inch by bloody inch. I lose sight of
Ashen and Eryx, but we shout to one another to keep
contact. Sometimes they’re closer, sometimes further away.
Sometimes I hear them yell instructions to the other angels
who battle at our side. All too often, I hear one of our new
companions fall in the battle, the scent of sickly-sweet
blood heating the debris on the cobblestones.
I end up stalled behind Ashen and Eryx as I get caught
up between fire and fighting next to a little bakery. The
scent of bread mingles with the death on the road. I cut
down the Nephilim delaying my progress and my sword is
still carving an arc through the air when a sudden heat
warms my belly. For an instant shorter than a heartbeat, I
remember the battle with Ashen when we first met, the
warmth of his hand on my stomach as he pulled me from
the fight.
All right, vampire?
The next instant, I’m gasping for breath, lying on the
cobbles, my belly burning with heat. It’s not until instinct
takes over and I’m patting down the flames that I realize
I’ve been hit with an incendiary. A cry of panic escapes past
my lips as memories of burning at the stake surge to the
forefront of my mind. I manage to push them down as I
extinguish the fire burning the accelerant that coats my
heating armor, but my moment of distraction has cost me.
A Nephilim strides forward through the flames on the
road. He swings a mace above his head. I can’t see his face
behind his golden mask, but I know his eyes are fused to
mine. And I know there’s no way I get out of his path in
time.
He’s bringing the mace toward me when it suddenly
slips from his hand. He lurches to a halt. A collar of glowing
glyphs clamps around the Nephilim’s throat.
No, not a collar.
Tattoos.
My husband’s hand.
The enemy chokes a desperate breath. His feet lift from
the ground. His mask is torn from his head and falls
through the flame to the cobblestone road. Ashen’s face
comes into view next to the man’s wide, bloodshot eyes, the
tiny blood vessels within their white surface bursting from
the pressure of the Reaper’s unrelenting grip.
“Mine,” Ashen growls into his ear.
Ashen’s fingers sink into his skin, his other hand
clamping around the enemy’s chin. The Nephilim’s scream
is lost in a gurgling rush. With a roar of rage and
restitution, Ashen wrenches the man’s head backward and
strips a section of his spine free, blood and torn flesh
surging across the space between us, its thick heat dousing
the nearest flame. He tosses the head aside with a wet
thud, his other fist trembling around the bloodied column
of bone.
A fleeting gasp of relief tumbles past my lips. “If we live
through this, you are getting the blowjob of a lifetime,” I
whisper, trying to swallow the tremor in my voice. Ashen’s
snakeskin wings flare wide and he drops the spine,
vertebrae snapping beneath his boot as he strides toward
me. Fireballs burst around us and I curl into myself as I
cover my head against the flames and sparks spilling heat
from every direction.
“It’s all right, vampire. I’ve got you,” Ashen says,
wrapping his arms around my shaking ribs. His wings
drape over us like a fire blanket, a burning cannonball
landing on one of their edges. He tightens his grip when I
flinch and cry out, letting go only long enough to pat out
the flames that crawl toward us beneath his wing.
“I can’t, Ashen.” Tears stream down the soot on my
cheeks as the sound of raging fire mixes with the swell of
villagers’ chanting voices as I burned a lifetime ago. Seared
leather. Melting flesh. Singed hair and embers that eat
skin. I can’t tell what’s real from what’s a terrible memory I
can never run far enough from. “I can’t.”
“I know,” Ashen says as he presses me to his chest. His
wing shudders as an arrow tears a hole through the
snakeskin, pinning it to the road. “I promise, it will be okay.
It’s hellfire, Lu. It will not hurt me. I will not let it harm
you.”
No sooner do the words leave his lips than a blast of
flame hits his back, heat and light rolling across his wings,
brightening the edges of his scales. He takes the hit with
little more than a grunt.
“Ashen—”
“Trust me,” he says, grasping my face between his
stained hands, his eyes holding mine and not letting go.
“The Shub Lugal are coming. Cyrus will not let us down.”
My lower lip trembles despite how hard I try to keep from
falling apart beneath the weight of my worst memories.
Ashen’s eyes soften as they rake across my skin. “Do you
know what Cyrus said, Lu?”
I shake my head between his hands.
“That no one deserved to lead the Shadow Realm more
than you. That it had never felt like a place that could
foster light until you came along.” Ashen leans forward and
presses a kiss to my lips, brushing back the tears that still
slide down my skin. “They will come,” he promises as he
pulls away. “And I will keep you safe until they do.”
Time slows. I count every color in Ashen’s eyes, the
copper seams, the crimson rings, the black flame. Sweat
beads our brows in the heat. Tears dampen my lashes and
Ashen wipes them across my skin. We breathe together,
slow breaths like deep waves that fill my chest. The fire
growing around us glows behind the curtain of Ashen’s
wings, but in a strange twist of fate it shields us from the
view of the archers in the distance. Silver arrows fall like
rain through the flames, but most clatter across the stones.
Most.
Ashen’s wings take another hit. Then another. Two more
arrows pin the soft black skin to the stone, smoke
spreading between us to shield the damage from my view.
Ashen’s shoulder drops toward me as an arrow strikes his
back, blood rolling over his metal armor to drip on my
cheek like a tear.
“Ashen—”
“Just a little longer.”
I grip Ashen’s hand in mine, pressing my forehead to his
as he takes another hit. His jaw clamps shut around the
pain and my heart cracks apart. “I love you, Ashen,” I say.
Smoke fills my throat. “I will love you for every second of a
thousand lifetimes.” I slide my hand free of Ashen’s,
pressing my palm to his cheek. He leans into my touch
before I pull it away, the confusion in his eyes shifting into
awareness as my hand rises to his forehead.
“No, Lu—”
“It’s okay. You take care of me,” I say, laying my palm
across his skin as I close my eyes and pull his mind into
darkness, “and I take care of you.”
When I open my eyes, we’re standing in front of one
another on the dance floor in Bit Akalum. I’m in the same
white dress as the first time we came here, and Ashen is
wearing his immaculate black suit. But this time, the space
is all ours. There are no eyes filled flames of predatory
desire to follow our every move. There are no hidden traps,
no enemies with saccharine smiles that spill venomous
revelations. No fangria or Rakomelo either, which is
probably for the best. It’s just me and the Reaper, and the
twinkling lights reflecting across the polished stone.
“Bit Akalum?” Ashen asks as his eyes take in the black
crystal chandeliers and the candlelit tables. “Why here?”
I shrug, giving him a sly smile. “Why not? It’s where I
first let myself really wish for what I wanted with you.”
Ashen’s brow flickers and I reach out, pulling his hand with
me. “Actually no. Not here. More like here.” I tug the
Reaper into place and kick one of his feet back a step,
shifting his shoulders as he grins. “Perfect. Right here.”
I place Ashen’s hand to rest behind my back and grasp
his other one to hold it aloft, arching backward and pulling
him with me until he dips me toward the floor. “Do you
trust me, vampire?” he asks, catching the memory from
those months past that seem so long ago.
“I trust you, husband,” I whisper. The smile shared
between us is slow to unfurl its bittersweet bloom. Ashen
curls my hand against the beat of his heart as he keeps my
weight hovering above the floor, my eyes only drifting
closed when his lips press to mine.
“Dance with me, vampire,” Ashen whispers when he
pulls away.
“Took you long enough to ask.”
Ashen gives me a wicked grin. In a blink, I’m whirled
from inches above the floor to high in the air, my feet off
the ground as Ashen presses my body to his and spins. My
laugh is a riot of sound in the still space of our shared
illusion. Music swells around us from a source unseen and
Ashen sets me on my feet only long enough to take my
hand and lead us into the steps of an elegant Viennese
waltz. Each spin is more dramatic than the last, every turn
more sweeping, every lift a little more risky, all to make me
laugh. We glide across the floor and I start to sing.
I’ve always sung someone else’s song. But this time I
sing my own. My song for Ashen.

When I couldn’t trust, you changed it

When I needed love, you gave it
When I broke my heart, you saved it
Even your darkest stars still shine

“Lu,” he whispers. Just my name, and yet it contains

everything he feels. Ashen presses a kiss to my neck as our
steps flow unbroken over the polished floor.

If I need the stars, yours guide me

If your love’s a light, it blinds me
If I’m ever lost, you find me
Even your darkest stars still shine

Ashen holds me closer as the edges of the room flicker.

His breath heats my neck. His scent of unsmoked tobacco
lingers in the air.

In every breath, I want you

In every wish, I see you
In every life, I’ll love you
Even your darkest stars still shine

Crashing metal echoes through the empty space.

Candles blow out. Chandeliers flicker and dim. The music
fades.
“Over here,” a voice calls. “I hear her.”
I blink in the darkness. A heavy weight lifts from my
lungs and I suck in a breath. A fireball streaks across the
sky high above us, but a wave of arrows answers back.
 “They’re alive,” the voice calls out. Cyrus. I look down
the length of my body, my armor and leathers covered with
soot and streaks of blood. Cyrus braces Ashen’s shoulders
as he helps him to sit. Three arrows jut from the Reaper’s
back. His torn wings are draped behind him beneath a thin
cascade of smoke. But Ashen’s eyes are bright, fused to
mine with a weary smile.
“Your grace,” a man says. A large hand comes into view,
waiting to help me up. “We heard you.”
“Pyrrhus?..” I ask. His brow is drawn but he gives me a
tight smile, a decisive nod. I place my hand in his and he
draws me to my feet.
When he’s sure I can stand steady, Pyrrhus lets go. His
hand folds into a fist over his heart and he bows his head.
“We have come to fight for our Queen,” he says. His
smile lights the fire in his eyes as he nods toward the
street.
It’s not just the elite Shub Lugal soldiers standing at
attention in their matte black armor. It’s the regular
infantry too. It’s the Reapers of the Council. It’s demons
from every house, ones I don’t remember seeing before,
newly resurrected souls who look a little confused, but
determined nonetheless. It’s even the hyenas, their mottled
fur smoking as they stand among the army of the Shadow
Realm.
Imani steps forward, my katana held in an offering on
her open palms. She smiles as a long lost, familiar soldier
steps into view. The vibrant gleam in his eye shines with a
new fire. “Hail Queen Leucosia,” Vlad the Impaler booms
with his enchanting voice.
I take the sword and swallow a thick knot as the Shadow
Realm responds.
Hail Queen Leucosia.
Cyrus pulls the last of the arrows from my husband’s
back and helps him to his feet, pressing the hilt of his
sword into his hand. Ashen lays his palm on Cyrus’s
shoulder but draws his second in command into a back-
slapping hug. That knot in my throat becomes a ball of
spikes and tears threaten to spill across my dirty cheeks.
When Ashen lets go and joins my side, we stand for a single
moment of silence on the battlefield.
“Shadow Realm,” I say when I turn to the sea of flames
that watch me. I take a step toward them. “We will protect
the souls who reside here. We will fight with our brothers
and sisters who defend them. We will get that fucking
stone. And for any traitors and Nephilim who remain…”
My gaze leaves the group, glowing deep crimson as it
flows the length of my katana. When I look back to my
army, I give them a smile with an edge as wicked as the
blade in my hand.
“For those who remain, we will deliver the justice of
demons. And the only mercy we will give is eternal death.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 34

W e battle for Spes Aeterna. Every inch we make it

down the road is a bloodbath. The Nephilim fight
back hard as we hem them in, pressing the enemy into a
second group of Shadow Realm fighters who hold a
barricade further down the road. It’s a large contingent of
Nephilim trapped between us, and groups of traitorous
angels who fight with them take to the skies, attacking our
soldiers from above. The Shub Lugal fell many with flaming
arrows, the hyenas running through the enemy lines as
they try to catch as many as they can before the angels
take off into the night.
I fight off two Nephilim with Cyrus and Ashen, and I
take a brief moment to gulp down a bag of blood from a
pouch at my belt when someone nudges my elbow.
“What’s up?” Zara says, standing next to me as though
we’re in the lineup for Starbucks. I’ve been so mired in
battle and survival that I’ve not truly registered the
presence of the hybrids in the realm until this moment.
Their thoughts are barely a whisper beneath everything
else that crashes around us.
“Hey. You know, the usual I guess,” I say as I shrug. I
offer her a sip from the blood bag, but she shakes her head.
“How are you?”
 Zara smiles up at me, her pointed teeth somehow really
suiting her with her black bob and her tartan skirt and her
dark, goth-inspired makeup. “Totally awesome,” she says,
legitimately sincere. She’s fiddling with a long metal tube,
pulling a pin down a slit in its side to lock a spring into
place.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Zara doesn’t reply. She just lifts the tube to her shoulder
and lays her finger on a trigger at the base. She aims the
barrel toward the sky and tracks the flight path of an
enemy angel who flies overhead. When he comes within
range, she shoots.
“I’m having a blast,” she answers as a silver net whirls
into the sky, wrapping around the angel and catching on
the sharp tips of his feathers, bringing him to the ground.
He tumbles across the cobblestones with a pained yell as
Zara gives me another bright grin. “Gotta run,” she says,
slinging the net gun over her shoulder as she speeds
toward the angel with a battle cry.
“Isn’t she the one who bit me in the battle at
Valentina’s?” Ashen asks as we watch her tear into the
angel’s throat with her teeth, unravelling the net as she
pummels him into submission.
“Yeah. I like her.”
“I’m sure.”
I smile at Ashen and he rolls his eyes, and then we’re off,
winding through the bodies of the dead and injured as we
fight our way toward the ziggurat in the distance.
Our forces crush the Nephilim into our soldiers waiting
further down the road, the demons of the Shadow Realm
fighting alongside the angels who defend their realm,
squeezing the enemy into a choke. We’ve battled them
down to a group of about a hundred remaining fighters
when two explosions rock the roadway. Buildings on both
sides of the road blow apart in chunks of flying rock and
shattered glass on the other side of the barricade, sending
a wave of dust into the night sky that reflects the flames
around us and obscures the ziggurat.
“That fucking sucks. We’re going to have to go around,”
I say to Ashen as we watch the cloud rise, flames erupting
from the damaged structures to make the roadway
impassable.
“Yes, but we also need to stop the Nephilim from
renewing their forces or this battle will never end,” he
replies.
I nod, looking over the war that rages around us until I
find the candidate I’m looking for. “Eryx!” I yell over the
fighting. His sword carves a deep slash through a
Nephilim’s chest and he meets my eyes with a nod. I give
thanks to the realms for the hundredth time tonight that
Ediye’s spell has held and he hasn’t passed out in the road
as he weaves his way closer with a glittery grin. I think he’s
actually enjoying himself. “We need to close the portals in
Shabarra,” I say. “They’ll just keep bringing in more
Nephilim unless we can shut them down.”
Eryx nods and whistles toward Vlad, who fights with
honed grace alongside Valentina. “Hey Dracula,” he calls
toward the ancient vampire. I snort a laugh and Eryx looks
down at me with an edge of exasperation in expression.
“Yeah, ever since some of the souls recognized him and
Valentina explained the name, he insists on being called
Dracula.”
Vlad joins us with Valentina close behind, and we outline
the plan before the three take off in the direction of House
Shabarra. Just as they’re leaving, Cole and Aloros appear,
Aloros’s injured arm bound against his chest to keep the
injury out of easy reach of an enemy.
“We can get through,” Cole says, pointing to a
barricaded alley where several angels guard the access. “It
opens by the gate to the House of Virtues, and then we can
connect back with Spes Aeterna on the other side. The
soldiers at the alley said the ziggurat is still safe for now, so
it should be a straight shot once we pass the gate to
Virtues.”
“I will take you directly to the Soulfate stone once we
are inside,” Aloros says, his grip tightening on his sword.
“All right, lets get this done.”
We take off running for the alley and the anunnaki at its
mouth let us pass into the narrow, darkened corridor. We’re
silent as we follow the snaking pathway between tall
buildings, darting into the shadows when we hear wings
above, though the space between the structures is narrow
enough that an angel’s full wingspan wouldn’t fit. Our
progress is steady until we hear screams and yelling ahead,
and for just a moment our footsteps slow as we glance at
one another.
Then we run as fast as we can.
We make it to the courtyard where the gateway to the
House of Virtues burns in the marble wall.
A group of souls in their ethereal Esagila robes run
through the courtyard, braving the fire that eats through
the heavy doors to run into the territory of the House of
Virtues. A large incendiary follows after them and hits the
wall just as the last soul makes it through to safety. Two
more cannonballs quickly follow, and the wall surrounding
the door falls to the ground.
We hear the marching footsteps of Nephilim soldiers as
they enter the courtyard, making for the ruined gate.
Screams rise on the other side. I hear children crying. Dogs
barking and whining. That damn donkey braying. My heart
crushes in my chest. We’re only four fighters, and I know
we can’t save them.
We enter the courtyard from the shadows of the alley. I
meet Ashen’s eyes and raise my weapon. This moment of
time splinters around us until all that’s left is the look of
resignation and determination in my husband’s eyes. He
gives me a single nod. I’m ready to die at his side fighting
to keep the Nephilim out of the House of Virtues, and with
just one shared moment of time, we both know that
however long we stand against them, it won’t be enough.
I’m about to tell him I love him when my words are
swept away by another sound. And for once it sounds like
hope.
“You will not pass this gate,” a familiar voice booms in
layers from the other side of the fallen wall.
Through the flames I see Ediye striding toward the
broken stone and burning wood, her arms raised at her
sides, black orbs crackling in her palms as she readies her
power. Shub Lugal soldiers march behind her, their spears
pointed at the enemy.
“Shadow Realm,” Ediye calls as the two armies draw to
a halt on opposite sides of the flame. “Show these fuckers
the meaning of hell.”
Ediye’s black orbs fly through the flames as Zida whips
past her over the fire and debris, her hiss bouncing off the
stone buildings surrounding the courtyard as she takes
down her first enemy. Magic rains down on the soldiers, hit
after hit, striking them down one by one. The Shub Lugal
run at the Nephilim, their battle cry rising around us as
they pierce through armor and hit the enemy with wave
after wave of aggression. Urtur lopes into view and joins
Zida, tearing a wing from an traitorous angel as the snake’s
fangs sink deep into his chest.
“We need to move,” Cole says, casting a final, proud
glance at Ediye as he watches her wield orbs of magic,
pressing the enemy back from the fallen wall. We turn and
run from the battle, staying close to the edge of the
courtyard as we find a connecting alley that leads back to
the road to the ziggurat.
We make it onto Spes Aeterna and the road is eerily
quiet on this side. We can still hear the distant fighting, but
rows of anunnaki soldiers wait in utter silence here, their
golden armor glinting in the dim light as their lungs fill and
empty. I look up and see more soldiers on the rooftops,
their bows targeting the skies. A shout comes from a
building across the road and the group of angels there let
their arrows fly, taking down a cohort of three enemy
anunnaki who must be attempting to get behind their
lines.
“Our elite army,” Aloros says as we stride past them.
“The Milites Lucis.”
We continue on in silence past the rows of soldiers until
we make it to the grounds of the ziggurat, and then we jog
up the ramp that leads to its entrance. Guards fill the
chamber and they move away to let us pass, some of them
glancing at my crown, others taking in Ashen’s torn wings
and the sparks that spray in his wake. Many give us grim
nods of thanks.
Aloros leads us on a circuitous route through doors and
corridors to a set of white marble stairs that spiral into the
heart of the ziggurat. We twist deeper and deeper into the
structure, and it starts to feel like it will never end.
Occasionally, we pass an opening to a floor and I have the
fleeting hope each one might be where we stop, but it’s
not. But after what seems like an eternity, we finally make
it to the end of the stairway, the landing opening to a dimly
lit corridor that in turn ends at a door of shifting light and
color.
Aloros places his palm to the door and the mechanism
inside registers his essence, the gears whirring to life
within as a series of locks release within. With a final click,
the door swings open, revealing a gold wall of ticking rings
and a polished lapis stone at its center. “The key of
Soulfate,” Aloros says, and we enter the room.
The ticking rings shift with metronomic precision in
opposite directions, the Dingir text lighting the room in a
gentle glow.
“What does it mean?” Ashen asks as he takes a step
closer, his gaze flicking across the room before it lands on
the stone once more.
 “The text? No fucking clue.”
“No,” he says. “Well yes, I guess that too. I mean the
voice.”
I tilt my head, my brow scrunching. “Voice?”
Ashen looks around the room again as though searching
for the source of the sound. “The whispering. It’s getting
louder.”
I gasp, a smile creeping across my face as his words
suddenly fall into place. “You hear whispering,” I say, and
he nods. “It’s not me. It’s you, Ashen.”
“I’m not whispering,” he scoffs, his gaze darting to me
and then the stone, then back again. “What?..”
“It’s you, Ashen. You are connected to the stone of
Soulfate.”
Ashen laughs as though I’m crazy, but it dies off into
silence as he realizes I’m dead serious. I give him a
reassuring nod as the realization takes hold in his bones.
“No, Lu…” he says, shaking his head. “That can’t be true.”
“Why not? You have the ability to travel to the Realm of
Light, don’t you?”
“If summoned, yes—”
“Chaperoned?”
“I…well, no…but…” Ashen looks at each of us as though
there’s some other explanation, running his hand through
his sweaty hair, the Sumerian glyphs of his rank glowing on
his knuckles. He rustles his wings, the torn snakeskin
grazing the floor. The burnt edges shift against the stone,
and it cracks my heart when he gestures at himself as
though he’s broken. As though he’s always been broken.
“No, Lu. I’m not—”
“Not what, Ashen? Worthy? Just? Fair?” I ask as I take
his hand, leading him toward the stone. “Super hot in
swimwear? Slightly obsessed with butter?”
Ashen snorts a laugh that quickly dies. He swallows and
opens his mouth to argue but I squeeze his hand.
 “I know what you are, Ashen. You’re loving. Courageous.
Resilient. Honorable. You have a soul just as deserving of
being chosen as anyone else that you love.”
I’m able to hear the whisper when it becomes a ribbon
that snakes around the room, waving through the heights
of the ceiling like a snake testing the boundaries of a cage.
It spirals around us, dropping in height as it circles. “Get
ready to catch it,” I say, keeping my hand wrapped around
Ashen’s wrist.
The ribbon shoots toward the door, heading for the
stone. Ashen grabs the end and I start chanting with the
whisper, nodding to him in encouragement to do the same.
Ashen repeats the Dingir incantation and I help him to wind
the ribbon up his arm. Just as the rings open, I thrust his
wrist forward and he grabs the stone.
We’re blasted to the floor with an unseen force as the
rings slip beneath one another, opening the window to a
glimpse of the domain of an ancient god.
Much like last time, the space beyond the rings is
brightly lit, but instead of threads there are little sparks
flashing through the room. They drift away from us with
comet tails, and the nearest ones pull away to reveal a
person sitting in the distance. There’s too much light to
make out any more than their basic form, and it’s only a
moment before the rings close once more and the entire
scene is hidden from view.
“She spoke to me,” Ashen says, his voice a little awed as
he looks down at the lapis stone humming in his hand. “She
said ‘Ashen gud Urbigum. Rakbu shisitum. Eteru sut.’”
“I’m guessing that’s the same kind of message I was
given. They’re asking for us to save them.”
Ashen meets my eyes and smiles, and despite
everything, I see a little relief in him. “Then we’d better do
just that. We need to get back home and regroup so we can
figure out where the gateway is.” He turns toward Aloros
as he places the stone into a small bag attached to my belt.
“Do you have any ancient texts related to the fates that we
could take with us?”
“Likely, yes,” Aloros replies, and he nods for us to follow
him back out the door, shutting it behind us. The locks click
into place. “I will take you to the area where they are most
likely located in the library.”
We follow Aloros up several flights of the spiral
staircase, and he leads us to one of the floors and down a
long corridor that connects to a wide foyer through a door.
When it shuts behind us, the doorway disappears into the
wall, I realize that the stairs we just took must have been
part of a hidden passageway system.
The foyer is bright and airy, filled with gold and white
marble sculptures, and our footsteps echo across the
unusual angles that follow the pitch of the slanted roof.
Aloros leads us to a row of doors and holds one open for us
to enter a beautiful library whose walls seem to radiate a
gentle white light. The far wall is all windows, looking out
toward the grasslands and the gradual lightening of dawn
in the distance. The horizon is pristine, unaffected by the
war that surely still rages not far beyond these walls in the
city of Anur.
Aloros takes us to a section of the library where the light
is dimmer and ancient leather texts and scrolls line the
golden shelves. He searches the spines and pulls out
anything he feels might be useful, handing a few books and
several scrolls over to me and Ashen.
“Wait here,” he says when he passes a final book to the
Reaper, then strides away to a series of rooms along a
nearby wall, returning with a leather bag in his hand. We
place the books inside and Ashen slings the strap over his
shoulder. “There’s a seldom-used portal to the Living Realm
about an hour’s walk from here. It will take you to Khirbat
al-Mudayna in Jordan. There isn’t much close by for human
civilization. Do you have any corridors near there?”
 “In Amman, yes. But we can find transport,” Ashen
says.
“Good. This will be the safest way for you to get out. I
will show you where to go to take the path.”
“You’re not coming with us?” I ask, and Aloros gives me
a smile as though the worry in my expression is unexpected
but endearing.
“No, I will stay and fight for my home,” he replies.
“Me too,” Cole says as he joins by Aloros’s side. We
don’t exchange words about it. We don’t have to. I don’t
think I could get them past the anxiety that grips my throat
in a tight fist anyway. I know this was once his home too.
So, I give Cole a hug that says what I can’t, and he
embraces me back with the same emotions that tighten his
muscles and steal his breath.
“Stay safe, brother,” Cole says to Ashen, who can only
manage a slight nod and a lingering hand on his friend’s
shoulder. Ashen squeezes and then lets go, and we follow
Aloros through the library until we leave Cole behind with a
fleeting glance.
Aloros leads us down stairways and passages until we
reach a long corridor that leaves the ziggurat. When he
opens the door at the end, fresh air flows into the hallway,
the scent of grasses and wildflowers a welcome change
from the blood and soot that cover our clothes. “The path
follows the edge of the wall between the city and the fields.
It will diverge from the edges of the city and skirt the cliffs
overlooking the Silver Sea,” he says, pointing in the
direction of a narrow gravel trail. “Stay on the path as it
drops down toward the beach. There is a small, unused
gazebo close to the shore. The corridor is next to it, a
simple pedestal. Just be wary, you will be exposed for much
of this journey, and there are very few places to hide.”
Ashen and I nod, and I don’t even try to stop myself from
giving Aloros a hug, avoiding his injured arm in the
process. “Thank you, Aloros,” I whisper, and he laughs, the
sound almost as enchanting as Ashen’s.
“No, thank you. Thank you both. Please, stay safe.”
Aloros smiles as he backs into the hallway and he watches
as we turn away, not closing the door until we’ve crested
the first of the rolling meadow hills.
Ashen and I walk in silence, our hands clasped, both of
us vigilant for the sounds of enemies or ambush. Nothing
comes, though we hear the sounds of continued fighting in
the distance within the city walls. Eventually, the path
strays from Anur and the horizon of the sea comes into
view. When we reach the edge of the cliffs we stop for a
moment, looking out across the water.
“I wonder if they have a Hooktopus,” I say as we look at
the glittering water, our hands still joined. “I think it’s
totally unfair, by the way, that an angel just told you where
to find your stone and I had to be dragged across the sea
by some Shadow Realm monstrosity.”
Ashen laughs and I grin up at him as I take in every
crinkle at the very edges of his beautiful eyes when he
smiles. “To be fair, I bet the Hooktopus creature was
humbler, at least. Do you really want to—”
Ashen’s grip tightens on my hand and then lets go.
He looks down at the blade that pierces through his
abdomen. His eyes meet mine for only an instant, and then
he’s falling from the cliff to the sound of my scream, his
sword tumbling after him, another weapon still lodged
through his body as he falls into the sea.
And just as I’m about to jump after him, the world goes
black.

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 CHAPTER 35

I wake with a groan, rubbing my temple. Something

cool and wet tickles my skin. When I roll on my back,
I smell grass and moist clay earth and chalk dust. I open
my eyes to a sky the shade of blue that seems discordant
with the pain coursing through my head. I groan again and
push myself up until I’m sitting, my stomach churning as
though I’ve had far more fangria than should ever be
consumed in a single sitting.
“Aglaope?”
When I finally digest my surroundings, I see my sister
crouched before me, her smile reassuring.
Except I do not feel reassured at all.
“What the fuck, Aglaope?” I ask as I reach out to her, my
hand stopped by the magical barrier I can already see
between us.
“I am sorry, my love. It is for both our protection.”
Aglaope stands and gestures to the ground beside me. I
look to where my hand keeps me steady against the Earth.
A bag of blood rests next to my fingers. “Drink, sister. You
will feel better.”
I look from the bag to my sister and back again,
weighing the pros and cons. Though trapped behind
magical glass, I still need all the strength I can get to work
my way out of this predicament, and I doubt she would
have poisoned or drugged it. Aglaope’s smile widens when
I take the bag and struggle to my feet. I open it and check
for the scent of anything added, then suck the blood down
with a glare like petulant child drinking a Capri Sun.
“Ashen’s blood, hmm? Did you siphon it from his wound
when you stabbed my husband in the fucking guts, sister?”
I ask, spitting the words like venom.
Aglaope laughs. “My darling, please. Despite the
unfortunate necessity of having to keep your husband away
for a little while, I am no villain. He will be fine, I assure
you. He is just too protective for his own good, and I could
not take the risk.”
“What the fuck, Aglaope,” I snarl, throwing the empty
blood bag toward her. It slaps the barrier between us. I
cross my arms and stare her down, but it only looks as
though she’s trying not to laugh.
“There’s another one behind you.”
“Fuck you.”
I pin her with a fierce, vampiric glare of crimson light
before I turn around and retrieve the second bag to the
sound of Aglaope’s gentle laugh. The pain throbbing in the
side of my head begins to lesson as Ashen’s blood fizzes
down my throat. I press my hand to my mark. There’s a
weakened sense of his emotions beneath my skin, and even
with the dulled sensation, I can tell he’s fucking enraged. I
glare at Aglaope again on his behalf.
“Ah yes,” she says. “I am sure he feels a little angry. I do
like him, my love,” she says.
“Yeah. I could really tell when you stabbed him and
pushed him into the sea.”
Aglaope lifts a shoulder. “It had to be enough to slow
him down. A simple leg wound would not do. I like your
eyes, by the way, sister. The sparks within the glow are very
pretty.”
I narrow my glare at her and turn away to test the
boundaries of my small cage, the dome thoroughly
surrounding me in a thin shield of light. “Are you sure
you’re not the villain, Aglaope? You sound very villainy
right now.” I give the dome a few hits and kicks to test it
for weaknesses, a growl building in the depths of my throat
with every unsuccessful attempt. I try whispering to my
pendant for Ediye as my back is turned, but the magic only
bounces back at me. My sister waits in silence as I
complete the circle and face her once more with a
menacing hiss. “Let me the fuck out.”
“You always were the most dramatic of us, sister. It
makes it even more impressive that you managed to spend
the last three centuries living a quiet, clandestine life. I
suppose it does make sense that you would swing from that
to the exact opposite by claiming the throne of the Shadow
Realm.”
We regard one another for a moment long enough for
fear to start corroding the edges of my anger. Aglaope
clearly has all the cards here. She stands outside the
barrier between us with my bag for the Soulfate stone in
within her reach. I hear it humming, and another purr with
it, the sound of the Deathfate stone.
“How did you get that?” I ask, nodding to the bag
containing the stones. “The safe was spelled.”
“You can spellcast too, can you not, my love? Then you
can undo them,” Aglaope says, and I watch her, thinking for
only the first time now that maybe I could have undone my
binding spell with Ashen, though I’m glad it never occurred
to me. Perhaps, in my loneliness at the time, I just didn’t
want the idea to surface. I’m glad it never did.
When I tear my gaze from Aglaope’s, I survey the rest of
the landscape that surrounds us. There’s short, bright
green grass among crumbled stones in the vague shape of
ancient, fallen buildings. To my left, cliffs overlook the sea.
Beyond us are jagged hills interspersed with thin scraps of
forest. And to my right, an arched granite structure. The
rock still looks as though it was hewn days ago. The edges
are clean and precise.
Anthemoessa.
“Do you recognize this place, Leucosia?” Aglaope asks.
She nods not to the village, but the archway itself. I slowly
nod my head. Even though I recognize it from our life on
the island, it was never more than a simple stone archway
past which our small cottages lay. I’ve walked through it a
thousand times.
“How the fuck…” the realization dawns and I look down
at my hand before tightening my fist until my nails press
bloody marks into my palm. “The ring. You spelled it
somehow so you could get us here.”
When I meet Aglaope’s eyes, she gives me a sheepish
smile, and she looks a little saddened, as though the sight
of the archway structure nearby should have sparked a
memory that doesn’t exist. Aglaope turns to toward it and
reaches out to trace her finger along the arc. “All those
years with the last of the true gods on the other side of a
veil, forever tying the threads together to lead us right
here, to this very moment. I have seen it before. You and
me, here at the gate, just like this. Exactly like this.”
“Where? How?”
“A premonition. Long, long ago. In dreams that plagued
me. Those visions found me once more in the time before
you washed to the shore. Not all memories were lost, not
for me. This is what we were sacrificed for, Leucosia. A
mystery hidden in plain sight.”
I stop my pacing and look at my sister, though her gaze
is still caught on the sweeping curve of stone that casts its
shadow through my dome. “What do you mean? You
remember seeing this before you came to Anthemoessa?”
“Yes,” she says, and I tamp down the desperation I
suddenly feel to ask her what else she might recall from
her life before Anthemoessa. “You. Me. Our sisters. We
were never what they forced us to become to protect gods
who have long since abandoned us. We were powerful.
Magical. It is time to regain what we have lost, and to take
that which is owed for our service. Our suffering.”
Aglaope holds my gaze for a long moment. I see not only
empathy in her eyes, but determination. And Aglaope’s
brand of determination is what makes me particularly
nervous about being trapped in a spellcast dome. She is
intent on dragging me with her in whatever plan she’s set
into motion. She’s like a rip tide, and I’m already halfway
out to deep water.
My sister turns away and I resume my agitated pacing at
the edge of the glittering barrier between us. “What are
you doing?” I ask as I watch Aglaope kneel, withdrawing a
folded page of parchment from the inside pocket of her
jacket. She carefully lays it on the ground and presses it
flat, and I recognize it by the scent before I even see what’s
on it. It’s a page from the Book of the Fatespeaker, the one
with the image of my mated mark. Aglaope looks at the
page in detail and turns it to the blank side. Then she takes
two vials from her other pocket. Ushgada.
“Where did you get that? Where’s Wynter?” I ask as I
watch Aglaope unstopper the vial of liquid. For a moment I
think she might knock it back, but she doesn’t. Her eyes
are still caught on the page.
“The apothecary is fine, not to worry, sister. She just has
a little bite and a bump on the head. She will recover well,
if that is what you wish.”
My heart drops to my feet, hitting every bone on its way
down. “If I wish?” I ask, but Aglaope doesn’t answer. I
watch as she tips the liquid on to the page. The parchment
replies with a light that illuminates hidden text. From
where I stand, I can see the Dingir writing, though I can’t
make out every word. But it seems that my sister can.
Aglaope’s lips move as she reads, a smile pulling at their
corners.
 “The Nephilim never needed the ushgada, did they?
They never came to you at all,” I say.
“No,” she admits, darting a quick look to me before
returning her attention to the page spread before her.
“They do want the stones, yes. But not the ushgada. They
can withstand opening the gateway without it. They can
take what lies beyond it with only the stones.”
“What lies beyond it?”
“Freedom. From pain. From purpose. From fates.
Eternal freedom, and the power to shape the realms to the
design we wish, not the one imposed upon us,” she replies.
Aglaope leans back against her heels and regards me for a
long moment, her eyes softening. She regards me with the
same sisterly affection she did that first moment I saw her
when I washed up on the beach, but I’m not sure I
recognize the woman looking back at me. “I see the burden
you carry as Queen of the Shadow Realm. Enemies not just
at your back, but right in front of you, aiming their arrows
right at your fierce heart, even though you only hold the
best intentions for the demons and creatures there. These
are obligations no one person should be forced to shoulder.
It does not have to be that way.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I can’t, because these are
all the same thoughts and trepidations I’ve carried with me
from the moment I stood on that dais in the Kur and chose
the spear over the key. Sometimes, in the darkest moments,
I’ve wondered if I should have made the other choice.
Aglaope gives me a knowing smile at my silence before
turning back to the page, tapping the vial to add a little
more liquid to the parchment. It glows brighter, showing
more of the hidden text. “The Nephilim may not have
needed the ushgada, but they did need you to retrieve the
Deathfate stone. The cavern you found it in was at the base
of an island in the Black Sea. They intended to take you to
retrieve it. When they did not capture you in the Shadow
Realm, they knew you would require a Resurrectionist
eventually. Their spies had already told them you had killed
Imogen, of course. They have their ears tuned to every
whisper, my love, even within the Guild of Gilgamesh. All
they needed to do was wait for the request to be made
through the apothecaries and for it to be released from
their vault. The ushgada would lead them straight to you
and the first stone. But they did not count on my clever
sister slipping through their fingers,” she says, her eyes
landing on mine once more. Her smile is warm with
affection. “More proof that we have been chosen by the
fates to supplant them, do you not agree?”
I don’t answer as Aglaope turns her attention back to
the page, replacing the first vial in her pocket as her eyes
skim the text again.
“I had captured Barbossa Sarno before I ever struck the
deal with Davina for her to harvest the demigod,” she says,
pulling the questions I want to ask from my stunned
silence. “He was the one who told me a demigod lived near
Évora, that he was named Dimitrios, great grandson of the
goddess Gula. Barbossa had killed Davina’s parents shortly
before I captured him. When your husband told Davina of
the existence of a demigod, she in turn told her mother, and
Barbossa stumbled upon the information in the process
when he took their lives.”
“So you placed yourself in Davina’s path,” I say, as
though fog is lifting to reveal a hidden realm. “You already
knew about the existence of the demigod when you showed
up in Évora, so Davina didn’t have to share information she
shouldn’t have known in the first place to get what she
wanted. It made her more receptive to what you had to
offer.”
Aglaope gives me a slight nod and a proud smile.
“But how did you know what to use the harvest for?” I
ask.
My sister unstoppers the vial of powder. She holds it
over the page, the parchment still lit in a gentle glow, and
begins to tilt the ampule. “Because I never forgot where we
came from, or what we were created to do.”
The powder hits the page. It crackles and sparks and
lifts the words away, turning them to silver smoke that rises
from the parchment. I watch as Aglaope gathers her long
hair in a hand to hold it back from her face as she leans
forward. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath of the
smoke. She inhales every wisp of script that curls from the
page. When the last letter is gone, the last breath taken,
my sister falls.

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 CHAPTER 36

A glaope slams down on her back as she seizes, her

limbs contorting, her heels digging into the earth. Her
teeth clatter as her body trembles. The ward still stands
between us and I press my palms to the surface, slapping it
until my skin burns with the impact, until I form fist and
pummel it with punches that do nothing to dislodge the
strong magic. I slump down, powerless to do anything but
watch as Aglaope continues to convulse on the cold, damp
ground. Thin channels of blood flow from her nose and ears
and the corners of her wide, unseeing eyes. I whisper into
the pendant again for Ediye, but I can feel the magic of the
summoning hit the barrier and reflect back to me, bouncing
through the small space until it disperses.
“Aglaope…what have you done, sister?”
Time feels endless. There’s nothing I can do to help my
sister. Whatever she’s done is tearing her apart from the
inside out. Sweat coats her body as though she blazes with
a sudden fever. Her hair catches the blood trailing across
her skin to paint patterns across her cheeks in the sudden
wind. I press my fingers to my temples, too afraid to watch
but just as afraid to look away. “I can’t lose you again,
Aglaope.”
The convulsions become thrashing, desperate
movements. A loud groan resonates in Aglaope’s chest. It
gets louder, and higher, and turns into a scream, a piercing
sound so loud that I cover my ears and curl into myself. I
press my eyes closed and cry out, and when I think the
sound of Aglaope’s torment is going to be the last thing I
ever hear, there’s a loud crack.
Silence.
Another crack. A smaller one. Another, louder this time.
I slowly take my hands away from my ears and open my
eyes.
The instant I do, I scramble back to the furthest edge of
the globe.
My sister’s eyes are open, blinking but not seeing, her
face serene. Except it’s upside down.
Her body is contorted, one leg pressed against the
ground with the knee bent the wrong way. Her shoulder
looks dislocated. Her neck is broken in at least two places,
forcing her blank expression toward me at a nauseating
angle. A loud crack shifts her broken leg into place but
dislocates her hip in the process. I cover my mouth as tears
fill my vision. Bile churns in my stomach as one of
Aglaope’s hands presses into the dirt and her humerus
slides back into its socket with a snap.
I vomit at the edge of the sphere.
Crack, crack, crack.
Aglaope stands, her spine tilted at an impossible angle.
A broken elbow cracks back into place. Something in her
pelvis snaps and she lurches forward. I press myself
against the dome when she takes another unsteady step in
my direction and feel my hand slide through its barrier. It’s
weakening.
Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack.
I grip my pendant as though it’s a talisman.
Ninmen Eslal. Ninmen Eslal.
I keep whispering as every vertebra clicks back into
place and Aglaope straightens. A deep breath fills her
lungs, shifting several ribs back into place. When she
exhales, her eyes drift closed. She opens them again and
blinks, looking around before her gaze lands on me. “That
was…deeply unpleasant,” she says with a little shudder.
“You don’t say.” I stand as the dome dissolves around
me, though Aglaope seems unconcerned with its absence.
Something about that is nearly as off-putting as the
cracking bones. She withdraws the fate stones from the
bag and my heart lurches as she looks toward the archway.
“We were made to serve the gods, but where are they
now? They left these realms long ago, and yet still we feel
the pull of purpose. For what? Why?” Aglaope gestures to
the crumbled stone foundations that were once our
cottages, a little village of forgotten women, a place where
we developed kinship with our sisters. “Mountains have
crumbled around us, and yet we remain, just the two of us.
We have withstood the ages, unblemished by time. Imagine
it, Leucosia. We could bring our sisters back. No more
enemies with knives at your back. No more threats looming
like thunderclouds above the raging sea. We can have
everything we ever wanted.”
“I do already,” I say. My eyes sting with unshed tears. “I
got you back, Aglaope. There are good people who depend
on me. They depend on us. We may not have asked for this
responsibility, but it is still ours to carry out.”
“And this is us doing just that, my love. We are the last
castaways.” Aglaope’s brow furrows and I see a depth of
sorrow in her that I’ve only seen once before, in that
instant when she pushed me from the cliff. “Do you not
wonder why we are the last two left, Leucosia? Even at the
end, it was only us. Our other sisters had already sailed
away on stolen ships or died by unworthy hands. And yet
we endure. Have you not wondered why?”
“You think we’re the last because we were meant to
seize this place? Because you saw it in a dream?” I shake
my head and take a careful step toward the space between
Aglaope and the gate. Aside from my touch and my fangs, I
have no weapons, she’s made sure of that.
A deep breath leaves my sister’s lungs as her gaze
sweeps over my face. “Not just that, sister.”
“Then tell me, Aglaope. Tell me what I’m missing. Tell
me what’s driven you to this. I love you, and I want to help
you. Whatever is going on with you, this can’t be the way to
fix it. Just share with me.”
A soft smile tugs at Aglaope’s lips. “I do want to share
with you. That is exactly what I intend. I will not just tell
you the past,” she says as she turns toward the gate and
raises the stones clutched in her hands. “I will show it to
you. And I will do what I could never do until now. I will
make sure you are safe.”
Aglaope starts to chant. “Hursanu y aabba, ziana y anzu.
Os naru nibiru insabatu.”
I recognize the first part of her chant from the wall that
housed the Deathfate stone. Mountains and seas, valleys
and skies. I call upon the convergence.
A wind rises around us. It twists in white tendrils around
Aglaope like a shield, curling and coiling down her body as
it streams toward the gate in a continuous swirl. A
shimmering curtain of light forms from the boundary of the
archway. Letters flare to life across the curve of stone.
Alahalsu.
“Si kagal qabu petasa.”
I don’t know what the rest of Aglaope’s words mean. I
just know it can’t be good. So I whisper a chant of my own
as I rush to place myself between my sister and the gate,
directly in the path of the wind.
Ninmen Eslal.
I don’t know if anyone can hear me in this ancient
place.
“I can’t let you do this,” I say above the increasing roar
of the wind with a slow shake of my head. My shoulder
leans into the torrent as it funnels around me toward the
gate. I will hold Aglaope off with my bare hands if I have to.
The only thing I can hope for now is that she truly loves me
and doesn’t want to hurt me. If I can just get her close
enough through this wind to touch her forehead, that might
be my only chance.
Thunder splits the air. Flashes of lightning creep from
the edges of a growing black sphere that swirls with distant
galaxies and starlit gases.
“Stop, Aglaope,” Ediye says as she steps through the
sphere, her eyes consumed by the inky dark of the deepest
space. Ashen walks out after her, his hair and clothes
dripping, his arm braced around his abdomen, his silver
sword clutched in his other hand. I can see how desperate
he is to surge forward and attack, but when our eyes meet,
he understands. This is something I need to do without his
intervention.
Aglaope keeps chanting as she takes another step
closer.
“Please, sister,” I beg. Tears blur my vision. Through
them, I can see what my sister cannot, the stars of Ediye’s
power stretching behind her into thin blades. “We can’t let
you do this.”
Aglaope breaks her chant, the wind continuing its
sheltering swirl around her, whipping her long black hair in
its furor. My sister’s smile looks like heartbreak. And
determination.
“I promised I would look after you, Leucosia. This is me
keeping my promise.”
My eyes slide to Ediye’s as my first tear falls. I nod my
head.
Ediye releases her starblades.
A dozen shards pierce my sister’s back. One juts through
her shoulder, another through her abdomen. Thin channels
of blood flow from the wounds.
But Aglaope doesn’t stop. She barely even seems to
notice.
 “The ushgada,” I whisper.
She will not die. She won’t even falter.
Ashen yells my name. When I meet his eyes, he draws
his sword behind him and throws it, not to hit my sister, but
for me to catch so I can defend myself. It spins end over
end, and I catch it by the hilt. I hold it raised behind me,
keeping my other hand lifted in Aglaope’s direction in a
wordless plea for her to stop. But she doesn’t.
I call to Ediye for a second volley and she hits Aglaope
with another round of blades, but my sister only resumes
her chant with renewed commitment. Ediye and I exchange
a fleeting, terrified glance before Ediye refocuses on
Aglaope, hitting her back with black orbs of magic, some
bursting across the shield of white wind, others smashing
through to hit Aglaope’s back with no effect. But Ediye is
undeterred. With every step closer that Aglaope takes
toward me and the gate, Ediye calls upon more magic, her
palms raised as her incantations thread into the wind in
black filaments.
“Nigin nippur kia duranki ka mitta baansig,” Ediye yells
into the wind. Two marks flare to life on Ediye’s
outstretched palms, glowing with red light.
The Sun Disc of Shamash.
“Aglaope,” I plead, meeting my sister’s eyes as she takes
another step toward me. I take one backward. “This is not
meant for you. The fates never chose you for this. Just
stop.”
Ediye hits Aglaope with another desperate attempt to
bring her down, but Aglaope seems to pulse with magic.
She stands right before me, starblades glistening in the
sunlight as they pierce through her chest and abdomen.
The stones hum in her raised hands. The wind snakes
around her body. “Stand aside, sister. You cannot kill me. I
do not want to hurt you to get to the gate, but if that is
what I must do to keep you safe, I will. Trust that I will
make it right when I get to the other side.”
 Tears burn my skin. I shake my head, but this time it’s
not a plea.
“You’re right, Aglaope. I can’t kill you.” I fold my free
hand around the one that holds my husband’s sword. “But
I’m the Queen of the Shadow Realm. I can take your soul.”
I plunge Ashen’s blade into my sister’s heart.
The stones fall, landing on the ground with heavy thuds.
The wind fades away like fog in the sun.
We both look down at the silver that shivers with the
beat of Aglaope’s heart. We meet one another’s eyes. Her
hand slowly rises, her fingers shaking, and I think she’s
going to try to grip the blade, but her hand comes to my
face instead. Her touch ghosts across the tears staining my
cheeks. “No, Leucosia,” she whispers.
My voice is caught in a tight cord. Flame erupts on the
blade, but despite the scent of burning blood, Aglaope’s
skin isn’t marked. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. When I say it
again, I can’t contain the sob that wrenches from my heart.
“I’m sorry, Aglaope.”
“Stop…please, sister…”
Her pulse still pounds against the sword, but I feel the
first essence of her soul pull into the blade. My heart
breaks with hers. Tears warp my vision. “I love you,
Aglaope. I’m sorry.”
We fall to our knees. I grip the sword with both hands. I
try to steady them, to not make her pain worse, but they
shake no matter how hard I try to hold still. Aglaope’s soul
strips away in tendrils, flowing through the blade like
smoke. I can see the glow of it curling around the bloodied,
shining silver that catches the sun. When it climbs to the
hilt and touches my hand it burns unlike any flame. It’s a
searing hiss of anguish and loss, of love and sadness. Of
memory.
Part of my own soul is being carved away with her and I
cry out with the pain of a deep, unmendable wound. I
nearly release the blade, but Ashen’s palm slides up my
forearm to fold around my hand and strengthen my grip.
“Steady, vampire. Hold it tightly.”
“I can’t.” Tears carve fresh paths down my cheeks when
I shake my head. “I can’t do this.”
My name is a whisper as Ashen kneels beside me. His
grip on my hand never falters. He lays an arm across my
back to grip my elbow, quieting the tremor there. “You can.
You must hold steady or you risk more pain to her soul.
Keep her safe,” he says, and I tighten my fingers beneath
his warm embrace. “Let a piece of yourself go. It will guide
her way to the Shadow Realm.”
The tendrils of Aglaope’s soul flow into my palm. They
sear my flesh. They climb my arm. They peel a strip away
from the very core of me, that piece of me that was
notched, marked by the justice delivered by my hand.
Justice that does not feel merciful at all.
Aglaope’s dark eyes are draining of color, but still they
hold mine with a plea, begging me to stop, the hurt in them
deepened by the immense love she feels, even as I betray
her. It’s there, within every wisp of her smoky essence that
flows into my body. Every memory she has of us comes
alive within me. I see my own face as a baby, cradled in her
arms. I see us playing in a stone village nestled deep in a
forest in another land. I watch through Aglaope’s eyes as
she stands before a council in an ancient temple,
volunteering to come to Anthemoessa and protect the
gateway in the hopes I would be left safely behind. I’m
crushed by her sorrow as she sails away, her eyes fused to
the shore where I stand, still a young child, crying and
inconsolable as she departs to fulfil her duty. Her fear fills
me when she’s transformed on the journey into a creature
capable of protecting the fates from the ships that might
too close to the last of the gods. And I feel my sister’s joy
and sorrow as she finds me on the shores of Anthemoessa,
knowing I couldn’t remember a single moment of her love.
But she had never forgotten. She remembered everything.
And now I am betraying her, to send her soul back to the
Shadow Realm.
My heart feels like it’s tearing from my chest. I’m
desperate to let go of just one hand so I can touch her, but I
can’t. I won’t risk causing more suffering to her soul. “I am
so sorry, Aglaope. I love you.”
“Sister…”
“I love you so much. But I cannot let you have this. The
fates were never meant to be ours.”
Aglaope’s breath shudders. Every beat of her heart
resonates through the blade. Her once black eyes are
smoky grey. The tendrils of her soul snake into my chest,
climbing beneath my mark and taking a strip of my own
soul with them.
A sorrowful smile casts a faint shadow across Aglaope’s
lips. “Love you…always…”
And then she is gone.
The flame dies on the blade as her essence disperses
and fades from my chest, leaving behind a raw, invisible
wound.
There are voices and movement and my eyes are
pressed closed so tightly that I think I see my deafening
pulse surging in the blackness left behind. My hands no
longer hold the blade. My palms are pressed to the ground,
my arms trembling, nails clawing into the wet earth. It
sparks a memory of scratching my way back onto
Anthemoessa to avenge my sister with a sword and a spell.
There’s a terrible sound, like the wind wailing through a
window in a vicious storm. As I’m pulled from the ground
and the intense pressure lifts a little from my head, I
realize the sound is coming from me.
“I’ve got you, vampire,” Ashen whispers. My body is
bracketed by Ashen’s strong embrace and he turns us
away, but I don’t open my eyes. I just cry. I cry until I feel
like I’ll crack in half. I weep until the shock of the grief
gives way, leaving only a bottomless anguish behind. If
there’s a shore in this sea, I don’t think I’ll ever find it.
“I betrayed her,” I say. My voice grates like splintered
wood against skin. “I sent her back.”
“Aglaope made her choice. You chose the realms. You
protected those whose fate is not yours to decide, my love.
The right decisions often come with the worst pain.” Ashen
holds tighter. I don’t look up as Ediye whispers Ashen’s
name. He places his palms over my ears but it only dulls
the sound of the blade sliding free of Aglaope’s chest. I still
hear it. I still sense the cadence of her beating, soulless
heart.
Ashen resumes his embrace when it’s over, and I turn
my blurry gaze to Ediye when the stones hum louder as she
lifts them from the grass. “They speak to me,” she
whispers, her eyes shifting between them before she looks
to the gate. “I don’t understand the words, but I know what
I have to do.”
Ediye moves toward the gate. She holds the stones
toward it like an offering, their hum growing louder with
every step she takes. A wind picks up, but it’s gentle this
time, as though it’s guiding the rightful guardian to the
place she’s supposed to be.
Ediye lifts the stones into the curtain of light that
shimmers from the archway to the ground. When she pulls
her hands away, the stones remain suspended in the light.
They start to glow from within and then crack, blinding
light forcing through their shattering shells. The stones
split open with a loud snap and disappear, the curtain of
light dissolving into the wind. There’s a tremor beneath our
feet and the gate crumbles as though it has suddenly
weathered the centuries in a moment of time. The archway
falls, one jagged side remaining, jutting toward the sky like
a fang.
 The tremor quiets. The wind fades away. We stand in
silence for a long moment, watching the dust that settles
over the broken stone. I look at the village beyond for the
last time, trying to imagine it as it once was. But it’s not
really the buildings I try to see. It’s not really my little
cottage that once stood on the left of the circle. It’s the
women who lived here with me, for a time. Mostly, it’s the
one who stands near us unmoving, her unseeing gaze fixed
to the sea.
“She’ll never die, will she?” Ediye says as she follows my
gaze where it’s fused to the shell of my sister.
“No,” I whisper. “She won’t.”
Before Ediye asks what we should do, I pull away from
Ashen’s embrace. I take Aglaope’s cold hand. I swallow the
burn, forcing the stinging tears away as I meet Ashen and
Ediye’s worried gazes. “Wait here. I know a place. I’ll be
back.”
They both give a solemn nod as I turn away, pulling my
sister’s hand with me. I let my tears fall when I know they
can’t see.
And they don’t stop.
They don’t slow as I guide my sister to a cave that faces
the western horizon. The tears keep flowing as I sit Aglaope
down on a stone to look over the sea. The tears are
matched with cries and sobs as I pull every starblade from
her back with my bare hands. I welcome the pain as my
palms slice open. I weep as I work, talking to my sister who
never acknowledges the scenes I describe, all of them
memories of us on this island, each one a story of love.
When I’m finished, I kneel before my sister. I take her
hands. I kiss her cheeks. And then I leave her in the cavern,
alone in her vigil over the ocean.
The tears still fall.
I’m afraid they’ll never end.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER 37

L oss never goes away. It changes shape. I might not

think about it all day, every day, but it’s still there.
Sometimes it’s more present than others. Some days, I
can’t get it out of my head. Other days, I don’t think so
much about the loss itself, but the wonderful memories I
have of my sister. I remember the feeling of her arms
around me in Pamukkale. The scent of her hair seems to
linger in my thoughts. I think of the way her hum turned
into a song in the cliffside house as Ediye and I cleared out
the debris. I remember the way Eryx stopped his work on
one of the tapestries to watch and listen with tears in his
eyes. I stand in front of that restored image now, but I don’t
really see it. I only see Eryx as he clapped when she
finished singing, and the way my sister laughed and twirled
and bowed to his ovation.
I often find these memories hurt just as much as her
absence.
It’s been a few weeks since I sent my sister back here to
the Shadow Realm. When we found her soul walking
listlessly in the garden maze that grows in the fog behind
House Urbigu, I gave her an everlasting death with the
poison on my katana. Her body still lingers on
Anthemoessa, staring out to sea. Her soul will not suffer
this realm again. That moment of forcing to let her go and
knowing for certain she will never come back seemed the
hardest of them all.
Most days get a little easier with the passage of time.
Just not today.
Five thousand, one hundred and four years ago, I
washed up a different person on a foreign shore, with no
memory of anything but my name.
Do not fear, my love. I will look after you.
I sit at the edge of the cliff I leapt from only a few weeks
ago. My feet dangle off the edge. When I close my eyes, I
can almost feel Aglaope’s hand pressing the grains of sand
to my shoulder after I washed up on the shore. I can see
her smile as vividly as though we were just on the shores of
Anthemoessa moments ago.
“She never forgot,” I whisper as I twist the ring she gave
me on my finger. I don’t open my eyes as Ashen kneels
beside me and drapes his arm across my shoulder, pulling
me into the warmth of his side. “She never told me she’d
remembered all along.”
“Why do you think that is?” Ashen asks, resting his chin
on the top of my head as his thumb coasts across my skin.
“Maybe she thought the pain of not knowing what had
happened was less agonizing than the realization we had
been sacrificed by our own family.”
“Hmm,” Ashen says, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
“Maybe she knew she could love you better than those who
left you behind.”
We fall into silence. I open my eyes and watch the waves
below as they shift beneath the caress of the curling fog.
Urtur lets out a contended sigh at my other side as my
hand drifts through his fur. “How have you done it all this
time, Ashen? How do you cope with it?”
The Reaper smiles a breath of a melancholy laugh into
my hair and presses a kiss to my temple. “It took me quite
a long time to figure that out, vampire. I don’t think I really
understood until a beautiful, brazen vampire whispered a
spell to save me and then hit me in the head behind a
cheese store in a weird little village.”
“She sounds smart.”
“And reckless.”
“Everybody knows that’s the best combination for a
vampire.”
Ashen smiles again and grips my shoulder tighter.
“Come, vampire,” he says with another kiss. “I do have
something that helps, and I’ll show you what it is.”
“This sounds suspiciously like a surprise,” I reply, trying
to muster the enthusiasm for one of Ashen’s schemes even
though I’m not really feeling up for it.
“It is. And I promise you, it will be worth it. You’ll see.”
Ashen jostles my shoulder in a wordless request to get
moving. He rises and holds a hand for me and I take it, and
we head back toward our cliffside home with the jackal
following on our heels. Urtur stays back in the sculpture
garden as we descend the stairs and pass the threshold of
the newly repaired front door, down the path that leads
back to the community of demons living within the fog.
We go straight to the Kur, and when we arrive, Eryx,
Ediye, and Cole are already there waiting.
“What’s going on, Reaper?” Ediye asks over my shoulder
as we embrace. “These two won’t give me shit. Trust me,
I’ve tried.”
“Hmm. I’m interested in what methods you might have
used. Did it involve Little Mermaid lyrics? Please, tell me
more,” I whisper into her hair. A hint of nerves color her
scent but it dissolves a little as she laughs. “Seriously
though, bitch. You’re holding out on much-needed details.”
“Fine. We’ll break out the tequila tonight and I’ll fill you
in.” Ediye presses a kiss to my cheek and keeps hold of my
hand as we turn to face Ashen. “Okay, demon. Tell us what
the hell is going on.”
Ashen subdues his grin and the gleam in his eye as he
nods toward Eryx. “We’re taking a little trip,” the angel
says as he pulls a chain from his neck and withdraws the
key to the Realm of Light. Cole smiles and pulls the key to
the Shadow Realm from his pocket, and they fit the two
halves together, twisting them in opposite directions until
they find the portal they want.
When we step through the watery barrier between the
realms, the House of Virtues lays before us, roller coasters
whirling overhead and laughter enveloping us on the
churro-scented breeze. The evidence of war still lingers in
the little details, like the metronomic clink of a hammer on
a chisel as a mason repairs a stone wall, or the shine of
fresh paint on the shutters of a house. But this realm is
healing, and the souls who reside here greet us warmly.
“Are we doing our date? Is this a quintuple date?” I ask
as the little train passes by, tooting a welcome as the
children within wave at us. Glee bubbles in my chest like a
film over my simmering sadness as I bounce on the balls of
my feet. I realize Ashen’s hand isn’t burning hot around
mine and raise it up to see white bands glowing around his
wrist. Anticipation starts to bubble and froth in my chest
when I meet his grin with my own. “We’re going on the
rides? And swimming? Surfing?”
The corners of Ashen’s eyes crinkle with the warmth he
tries to contain but can’t. “I did promise with blood,
vampire.”
My bounce becomes little hops. I try to stride ahead and
pull him with me, but he doesn’t budge. “What are we
waiting for, Ashen?
“Our tour guide.”
My brow furrows as my confusion deepens. Ashen still
keeps his faint smile but something about it softens. A deep
swirl of anxiety and anticipation fills my mark. And then I
smell it, on the gentle breeze that sweeps over my
shoulder. It’s starlight and sage, and something different,
something fresh and new. Sunshine on dew. Honey on toast.
Sweet and delicate scents. Happiness.
 “Mama?..”
Those two syllables seem to hover in the air around us,
stretching time, pulling it thin as it sinks into my marrow.
All my blood rushes to my heart. My flesh tingles with its
absence. My lips part on an unsteady gasp. Tears are
already blurring my vision when I turn to look at Ediye. Her
muscles are tense but her bones seem to turn to liquid
within.
“You are so brave, Mama. I saw you. At the gate to
Esagila.”
Every cresting beat of Ediye’s heart is a symphony. She
crumples with a shaking hand covering her mouth. Her
palm can’t catch the sound that escapes. Eryx grasps her
arms and keeps her standing. There are tears in his eyes as
he presses a kiss to her forehead and bends to catch her
gaze. “It’s not a dream, love. Turn around.”
Eryx turns her slowly and I pivot too, our eyes meeting
for a fleeting moment before Ediye faces the boy she lost so
many years ago.
Tayo.
Midnight skin, onyx eyes. A wide smile, full lips. He’s
thin but strong. Just a boy, destined to never grow old. He
looks so much like Ediye that I know with just a glance that
it’s her son.
“I missed you, Mama,” he says as tears crest his thick
lashes.
Ediye’s cry would never need a vampire’s memory to be
remembered. It’s the sound of a heart cracked in half by
the kind of joy that feels like anguish when it’s set free.
Ediye rushes forward and crashes to her knees on the
cobblestones. She crushes her boy to her chest and his
small arms wrap around her, holding her tight. Her body
shakes. She whispers things I can’t make out. Tayo cries in
her arms. His little hand strokes her bare shoulder with the
reverential caress of a love that’s never dimmed, that’s
grown brighter with all this waiting finally come to an end.
 We watch for a long while, Ashen’s arms wrapped across
my middle, his chin resting on my shoulder. Ediye pulls
away just enough that she can cup Tayo’s tear-streaked
face in her hands and place kisses to his skin until he
laughs. It’s a joyous giggle, a hint of mischief hidden in its
depths. It leaves me utterly spellbound.
“She glows,” I whisper, as Ashen’s lips press to my
shoulder in a kiss that lingers. “I see it now.”
A gentle radiance illuminates Ediye’s skin from within.
She’s never been more beautiful. I know I haven’t seen her
smile the way she does when she turns toward me, her
hands resting on her son’s shoulders. The look that passes
between us doesn’t need words. I know I wouldn’t have
them anyway. I have no way to contain the happiness I feel
within the boundaries of any language I know.
“Greetings, dear friends,” a deep voice says, and we
turn to see Aloros, his injured arm renewed, his linen tunic
and pants once again pristine, a simple gold crown
adorning his short dark hair. He approaches with three
unfamiliar angels following close behind, one carrying a
white box held on his upturned palms. I cast my gaze
across the crowd that’s steadily gathered around us. I
notice for the first time just how many souls and angels
have come to watch in silence, though they’ve kept back
enough to give Ediye space. She rises from the road and
wipes her face, her other hand clutching Tayo’s. Aloros
drifts to a halt in front of her with a faint smile.
“You helped to arrange this?” Ediye asks, and he gives a
single nod. Ediye swallows, trying to keep another rush of
tears at bay, though I can still see their glassy sheen.
“Thank you.”
“No. We thank you,” Aloros reaches his hand toward her,
and Ediye looks at it as though she’s unsure before she
takes it. “You stood for our souls. You held the gate.
Protectress of the House of Virtues, we thank you.”
 The crowd around us shifts like a wave as they descend
to a knee, their heads bent in respect. They stay down on
their knees when they turn their faces to her once more,
their expressions a mix of hope and awe.
Aloros lets go of Ediye’s hand and steps back, gesturing
for the angel with the box to come forward. When Aloros
turns toward Ediye once more, his brow furrows, his gaze
dropping for just a moment to the stones beneath us. “We
lost many in the battle. Most of our Council is gone. Our
rule has always been divided among our quarters of Anur,
and our rulers fought valiantly for their Houses. But only I
am left, presiding over Esagila.” Aloros looks to Ediye with
the echo of sorrow beneath the glimmer of hope that shines
in his eyes. “You were equally as brave as any anunnaki,
and you fought for a realm that was not yours to protect. As
though that was not enough, we know what you did at
Anthemoessa to save the fates.” Aloros opens the box. A
golden diadem glitters within, set with stones that glow
with their own light as though they are stars, plucked from
the night sky. “We offer our highest honor. Ascension,
among the anunnaki. And we offer a place on our Council,
as Queen of the House of Virtues.”
Ediye gasps and meets my eyes. I must look half crazed
with excitement, because Ediye cackles an incredulous
laugh that dies as she realizes Aloros is serious. She looks
between the crown and the angel who holds it, then to the
souls around us. She swallows the heartbeats I hear
surging through her chest. “But…I don’t know the first
thing about ruling.”
“Neither did the dark-souled vampire, and look at all she
has accomplished,” Aloros says, snickering as he catches
my good-natured eye roll.
Ediye and I exchange a fleeting smile, but the mirth in
her eyes disperses as quickly as it came. She lets her gaze
drift down to Tayo. I know she’s delving into memories,
sinking into the years we spent exacting revenge for this
love that was once stolen from her. We left a thick trail of
blood behind us before Ediye found a way back to herself
through the grief of her loss. “I have done things I regret.
And I have done many things that I don’t. I wouldn’t take
them back even if I could,” Ediye whispers. Her eyes linger
on her son before meeting Aloros’s once more. “I’m not
perfect.”
Aloros takes a step forward and lays his large hand on
her shoulder. “It is our mistake, for letting you believe you
ever had to be.”
Tayo turns enough to watch his mother’s face with a
proud grin. Angels and souls wait with patience on bent
knees, hope painted on their faces. Ediye and I lock eyes. I
smile, and she does too. When she returns her attention to
the angels, I see the spark of distant stars in the galaxy of
power buried within her ebony eyes.
“I appreciate your offer of ascension. But I’m not ready
to accept that, at least not right now. I like who I am, the
way I am,” Ediye says, with a grateful bow of her head. I
see the gazes of a few of the souls around us fall to the
ground with dismay. “However…if you would still allow it, I
would be truly honored to lead the House of Virtues.”
Those gazes that fell around us snap back to Aloros,
hope igniting in their eyes as their attention shifts between
the witch and the angel. For a moment, he gives nothing
away. And then his smile grows.
“The honor would be ours,” Aloros says. Excited
murmurs swirl around us as he turns toward the angel
holding the velvet-lined box. He lifts the crown and places
it on Ediye’s head. It rests there as though it was always
meant to shine with her. Aloros steps back, his smile
growing wide. “All Hail Ediye, Queen of the House of
Virtues.”
“Hail Ediye, Queen of the House of Virtues,” I repeat
with the others, dropping to my knee.
 It’s as though the crowd can’t contain their excitement
for more than just a brief moment of subdued deference.
Cheers erupt from the angels and souls who jump to their
feet, clapping and laughing as they draw in closer to
surround Ediye with words of thanks and welcome. We
stand with them, sharing their joy as we hug Ediye and
meet Tayo for the first time, a sense of wonder and peace
thriving in my chest when it feels as though I’ve loved him
all my life.
There have been times I thought my heart couldn’t
contain more love, it was already so rich with it that it
overflowed. There have been moments of darkness where
my heart felt filled with poison that was killing me with
every beat. But now, in this moment as I watch Ediye and
Tayo, Eryx and Cole make their family complete as they
embrace, I realize there is no limit to how much more love
a heart can contain. There is no end to its capacity to heal.
There’s a crack high above as fireworks burst across the
sky. Ashen’s hand lays on my shoulder and flows down my
arm, his wedding ring a gentle kiss of coolness against my
skin. I smile as I turn to face him, laying my palms on his
cheeks.
Ashen folds a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his gaze
lingering on my lips for a long moment before he meets my
eyes. “All right, vampire?”
“Kiss me and find out, Reaper.”
Ashen smiles, and I don’t tell him, but he shines.
And so, we heal.
One moment of love at a time.

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EPILOGUE

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 ASHEN

L u’s cheek is cool against my chest. If I were to move

her face, my mated mark would leave a pink
impression of warmth against her skin. But I will not move
my Lu. She sleeps so soundly in my arms.
We spent hours in the Realm of Light. She played with
Tayo, the two forging a fast bond as though they’ve been
friends all their lives. They went on every ride. We surfed in
the Silver Sea. She laughed and shouted. Lu shone as
bright as a beacon to the sea. And now she’s exhausted,
deep in dreams. But happy.
Sometimes Lu talks in her sleep. Talks about ancient
horrors that have long passed. Fire. Burning. Falling.
Sometimes more recent pain plagues her dreams. Aglaope.
Gallus. My sister. The thin shred of a long-buried hope that
they stole from her in her time caged deep in the dungeons.
On the nights she wakes me begging them to stop, I draw
her close and stay awake to keep a vigil against the night.
But more and more, I stay awake long after she’s fallen
asleep to watch her dream in peace, like now, when her
breathing is deep and even. She’s so full of movement and
energy when she’s awake. There’s always someone to meet
with or questions to answer or issues to tackle. Even in the
house she rarely sits still. On the days when the recent pain
rises to the surface, she’s planting flowers or working on
this old manor, bringing it back to life. On the brighter
days, she’s laughing, even dancing. Sometimes, more and
more, she’s singing. So, these moments are a gift, to be
able to just watch in the quiet of night until I drift off
beneath her.
One of Lu’s hands is lying close to her face, her fingers
curled upward like a wilting flower. I lay my palm in hers
and she sighs, content. I press my nose to her hair and
draw in a deep breath of her scent. Its faint perfume is the
ocean mist on tall grasses. It’s the wind across the distant
sea of another realm.
I look up at the skylights of our bedroom in the cliffside
house, the broken panes replaced with new glass to feed
dim light to the plants Lu has scattered through the space.
I tighten my arms around her as the heaviness of sleep
weighs on my lashes.
And then, so slowly at first that I don’t believe it, the fog
rolls back from the glass.
Stars shine in the black blanket of night above me. I
watch as the mist curls away from every pane, pulling back
toward the garden. I stare at the brightest star, waiting for
the fog to return and veil the light from view.
Lu stirs but doesn’t wake. I lay a palm across her back
and press a kiss to her forehead. And then I stare at the
stars in the night sky until I force my eyes closed and let
sleep pull me away, wondering if the first true morning will
dawn in the Shadow Realm.

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 A C K N OW LE D G M E NT S

Thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to read A Queen

Of Broken Realms! Please consider leaving a review; not
only will it help this series to reach more readers, but it will
add some sunshine to my day! Unless you hate it, which is
also totally fair, just please… don’t tag me haha!
Please also feel free to reach out to me on social media!
I LOVE to hear from readers and am always open to
questions, screamy spam, tears (yum), and voice messages!
I live for that shit.

Instagram:
@brynne_weaver

TikTok:
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Join my mailing list at brynneweaverbooks.com for updates,

deals, sneak peeks of upcoming works, and book recs!

Thank you so much to you, my amazing readers. This book

absolutely would not have happened without you. Queen
was exceptionally difficult for me to write, partly because I
took time away from it to write Black Sheep, but also
because I don’t think I was really ready to let Lu and Ashen
go. But your enthusiasm for their story and your
unwavering support are what kept me going, and I so
deeply appreciate it. Many of you have been with me on the
journey of this series from early on, and I know you love
these characters as much as I do. Please rest assured that
this is not the very end of any of them - we’ll see some
extras of Lu and Ashen, and also some spin-offs from their
world!
Specialist of special thanks to my amazing ARC readers,
who take the time to read and scream and cry and send
voice messages and videos - it’s totally amazing and brings
me so much joy. All my love to Arley, Lana, Lin, Lina, Bella,
Kayleigh, Barb, Angie, Amber, Amy, Apola, Kerrie, Sedona,
Rebecca, Rachel, Shani, Jess, Jessica, Nessa, Emma, Toyah,
Kim, Laura, Nat, Natalie, Nyx, Megan, Molly, Amy, Kelsey,
Lindsay, Delina, Katelin, Valerie, Veronika, Leigh, Ashley,
Sabine, and Tara. Huge hugs to my partner in literary
crime, Alexa Harlowe, whose support and feedback and
friendship has meant the world to me. What a crazy journey
it’s been together! A special shout-out also to Trisha Wolfe
(PLEASE CHECK OUT HER BOOKS, they are amazing -
Lovely Bad Things is my favorite book this year) - thank you
so much for helping me figure out that the stones would
not, indeed, go in butts. LOL.
A huge thanks to my wonderful IRL bestie friends who
always encourage my madness, and Queen was certainly no
exception. Sanja, Mary, Regan, April, and Lindsey - you are
ride or die bitches and I loooooove you.
To my amazing husband Daniel, thank you for always
helping me carve out time to write and edit, and for always
being willing to spitball crazy ideas with me. I love you so
much. Even more when you bring coffee and/or wine.
My wonderful son Hayden. I love you more than all the
stars in the sky. There’s no easy path there, but I know you
will make it.

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 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Brynne is a fan of velociraptors, the Alien movies (well, most of them), red
wine, and wild adventures. She can relate nearly anything you say to a line
from the movie Hot Fuzz. She has been trying unsuccessfully for years to
convince her husband that they should acquire a pet mink to add to their
menagerie of animals (what could possibly go wrong with that plan?!). Brynne
has been everything from an archaeologist to a waitress, a deep-sea core
analyst to an advertising account executive. For the last several years, she has
been working in the field of neuroscience clinical research.
Brynne has been writing since childhood and has published a non-fiction
book under her real name, but she won’t tell you what it is unless you provide a
live, fully trained velociraptor. When not busy at her day job or writing, Brynne
can be found working with her husband and their son on their family farm in
Nova Scotia, Canada, or enjoying her other passions which include riding
horses & motorcycles, reading, and spending time with family and friends
around a raclette and a bottle of wine. A Queen Of Broken Realms is her sixth
novel.

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 A L S O B Y B R Y N N E W E AV E R

Standalones
Black Sheep - dark contemporary serial killer romance

The Shadow Realm Series

A Shadow In The Reaping
A Heart Of Bitter Poison

The Diviner Series (Fantasy Romance)

The Diviner
The Elysian (coming soon)
The Resurrectionist (planned)

Monster Smut Novellas

EXTERMINATRIX

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