Ishim dragged his attention back to me. The Seer’s focus was razor sharp on me too. I pinned her with a hateful glare.

“We’ll make the trade.” He gritted out each word like it was physically painful for him.

Victory warmed my veins and hardened my cock. Zaph shouted against his own gag, while the Padisa cried tears of joy. Dark satisfaction swept down Assyria and I’s bond.

Ishim snapped his fingers, and the two males who had hauled Zaph gathered the Padisa in their arms. Zurronar and Uzadaan swept forward and dragged Zaph away from the rest of the Angels, lest they attempt to grab him and run too.

“It was a pleasure as always, Ishim,” I growled, using his given name rather than his title.

Instead of anger flashing in his eyes, triumph shone.

So this was what he’d predicted happening…

Ice slithered down my spine. Kiira’s visions were always stronger and I trusted her over whatever this icy-eyed female saw. Still, I’d convey every detail to her, Rapp, and Trol when we debriefed later.

“I’ll enjoy killing you,” Ishim replied, grinning, as he flapped his white feather wings. Around him, his companions did the same, keeping their faces to us as they descended back to their mounts and ground support. Only Vaeron lingered, gaze searing into me, as if he weighed judgement like his Goddess.

Then, he turned and followed the rest of the Angels.

I stalked to the edge of the wall, finger digging into the balustrade. Assyria and the Parancsok joined me. Together, we looked down upon the overexcited Angels as they gathered their horses and disappeared into the trees.

“That went better than I expected,” Assyria muttered under her breath. “Especially after the caws.”

“Aye,” I said, a sick, sour feeling clawing in my gut.

Another crossroads had shoved into our path. Darkness loomed down each one, foreboding and ominous. If Kiira’s guess that the three crows were a symbol for moments where we’d be able to change the outcome of the war, I wasn’t sure if I’d chosen the right direction.

“How long until that poison works?” Banand asked as the last flits of white vanished.

“Maybe another hour?” Zurronar guessed, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. “By the time they return to their camp, she’ll be closing in on death and there isn’t anything they’ll be able to do about it.”

“You’ve earned your title as Parancsok now, Banand,” I announced, turning away and finding the male who’d ambushed me and started the fucking war in the first place.

“Your first responsibility will be to clean all this up and ensure they aren’t circling back for an attack.” I took a step toward Zaph, whose eyes widened in fear. “The Szélhámos and I have other business to attend to.”

Let the Angels hunt visions of their victory. Assyria and I would carve ours in blood.

OceanofPDF.com

59

Metal clanked as Rokath dragged Zaph into a dark, dank cell. His thrashing limbs, his unrelenting fear, his utter helplessness, coiled dark desire low in my belly. Once, he’d had me in a similar, vulnerable state.

I’d lived beyond it.

He would not.

The promise of violence rolling off Rokath was a heady wine, an intoxicating rose, a decadent dessert.

I’d thought we’d have to capture Zaph on the battlefield and give him a quick death. This was far, far better.

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind us, ringing finality into our ears. A window, cut high in the damp stone, offered the barest hint of light.

“Find a lantern,” Rokath instructed me, his focus still entirely on the male who had caused us so much pain. Gripping the chains in the center, he tossed Zaph against the far wall.

Teeth dug into my lower lip, I grasped the metal and stuck a lit match inside it. The embers grew until they cast haunting shadows around the room, an omen of what was to come.

Rokath peeled his helmet over his head, his eyes never leaving Zaph. The moment it was off his head, he gripped it by a horn and stalked forward. Zaph shoved his feet into the ground in a futile attempt to put space between him and my mate.

Removing my own, I savored the delicious fear radiating from the Angel. A nearby table offered the perfect perch to witness Rokath’s torture. What he would do simply because someone dared harm me.

I hopped onto it, setting my armor to the side.

My mate leaned close, his face mere inches from Zaph’s. Lips curling back from teeth, he growled, “No one touches my mate and lives. Not only that, but they die slow, excruciatingly painful deaths. I needed a skull to finish her throne. Yours will do.”

The stench of urine assaulted my senses, and I wrinkled my nose. “It’s really pathetic. All his bravado to piss himself at the penultimate moment?”

Rokath let out a dark chuckle. “It truly is. But he’s never been more than an annoying pest. It’s time to squash him.”

Obsidian ecstasy heated my veins.

Rokath’s hand snapped out and closed around his throat. With the barest bit of strength, he lifted Zaph and threw him onto a table in the middle of the room. A crack sounded as his back hit the wood. I felt more sorry for the furniture that had to take Rokath’s abuse.

Perhaps I should have felt shame. After all, I’d been beaten. I knew the fear that accompanied each oncoming strike.

Yet I couldn’t find it within me. My soul had turned to pitch long before this moment. Possibly even before I accidentally killed Vagach.

Rokath bore witness to it and did not retreat. Instead, he dragged me deeper into the abyss with him.

Flattening his palms over Zaph’s chest, Rokath pinned him in place. Then, his burgundy eyes dragged to mine. “I’m about to show you, mate, just how much I love you. Everything I’d do to protect you. Everything I’d do to avenge the wrongs done to you.”

My tongue danced over my lips before I offered him a devious smile. “Maybe you’ll win me over for more than one day based on your demonstration.”

“To earn that, I will ensure the show is one that pleases you greatly,” he growled, the double meaning in his tone clear. That only served to dampen my thighs.

Rokath grabbed Zaph’s hands and yanked them overhead. Fishing a chain from beneath the table, he secured them in place before rounding it and doing the same with his feet. Still gagged, his cries were muffled along with his thrashes against the binds.

With more care than he’d shown Zaph, Rokath placed his helmet and chest plate beside my own. Threading his fingers through my hair, he knocked my legs open and settled between them. His gaze drifted to my lips. The moment hung, air frozen between us.

His mouth collided with mine, bruising, demanding, aching. Teeth and tongue battled, only twisting the tension on our bond. Excitement thrummed in my veins, and I gripped his tunic, calling my magic to the surface of my skin.

Onyx smoke shoved my mate away. “Don’t forget these,” I said, leaping from my position and finding the silver stakes I’d stored in sheaths on my thighs. The very same ones Zaph had used to pin Rokath in place.

I wanted them on me should we ever cross paths with the offender. It was fitting they accompanied our vengeance. They’d found their place in Zaph’s death ritual long ago.

The metal clicked as I dropped them into Rokath’s hands. “Get to it.”

His eyes turned to molten ebony. “With pleasure.”

Our mouths seared one final time before he stepped away, leaving me breathless. Every strike of his foot against stone imbued his frame with power. To me, Rokath was more than a male. More than the leader of the Demon army. More than the Halálhívó.

He was death made flesh. The solemn assurance of savagery. The final midnight of life.

Even the Reaper should tremble beneath his wrath.