“Let’s begin before I change my mind.”

Assyria shot me a devious grin before sinking to her knees and bowing her head. Rapp and the force of nine in front of me did the same.

The sun painted the dirt in a final swipe of gold. I yanked the ceremonial knife from its sheath and flexed my fingers around the hilt. Soon, the ground would be red, and not only from the offering the twelve of us were about to make.

We’d held prayers with the entire army at high sun, as we did every day, but with the risk I was taking, allowing Assyria to traipse through the Angel’s camp like she belonged there, I wanted—needed—to ensure the Fates would work in our favor.

And they fucking loved blood.

“Weaver, who spins the threads of our fates, lay down the path for us to tread, unyielding and unbroken. We walk at your command, our feet bound by the threads you have woven. Guide us to glory as we rescue our brethren tonight from the clutches of those who would see the Demons eradicated. Bind our fates, so that we may rise victorious.”

I sliced a deep gash into my palm, letting crimson flow freely toward the churned earth. After, I handed the knife to Assyria. She offered a generous amount, then prostrated herself. Rapp, too, bled openly, shooting a pointed look at the male in front of him who didn’t dig deep into his flesh. Chastised, he wrapped his palm around the blade and squeezed more ruby out.

“Giver, bless us with abundant wells of magic so we wield in your name during battle. Let the blood we spill slake your thirst, and let us slaughter those who defy your design. Gift us with the power we need to bring majesty to your name. By our blood, we honor you.”

“By our blood, we honor you,” the ten males and Assyria echoed, marking their faces with long swipes of their hands. It had been my mate’s suggestion that we paint ourselves in shades of red to match our eyes. When we confronted the Angels tonight, they’d see the monsters they thought we were. Let them believe what they wanted. So long as we won, I didn’t give a fuck.

“Reaper, whose curse falls upon those who stray from the path, let us not taste your wrath. We offer this blood as a pledge of our loyalty. Let your eye wander elsewhere and damn those who question your mighty power. Should we fall tonight, offer swift passage into another life.”

“We pledge our devotion to the Reaper,” they replied. “Let our victory be swift. Our lives, our magic, our very essence, are the Halálhívó’s to command.”

“Rise,” I told them, and they straightened. Already, my wound had closed. Assyria returned the knife to me, and I took a small rag to it before tucking it away again. The handpicked Vezető and Százados returned to their stances, shoulders squared and not a hint of trepidation in their red eyes. Only one Parancsok was among them, pulled from one of Rapp’s winged battalions. His Suppressor power could hold back the magic of two dozen Angels should we need to make a quick escape.

Rapp approached them and relayed final instructions while I spoke with Assyria.

“Signal to me if you find yourself in trouble,” I told her, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She had the nerve to roll her eyes. “Not like you’ll be in my mind the entire time.” Despite her bravado, a whisper of anxiety traveled down our bond.

“I’m serious, Assyria.” I stepped toward her, slipping the knuckle of my first finger under her chin and tilting it up. Those devious burgundy eyes locked onto my own. “Do not take any unnecessary risks.”

“In and out,” she promised with a sigh. I wrapped my arms around her small frame and tugged her close, inhaling her floral scent. My heart thundered against my ribcage, and the bond thrashed like a wild beast, beseeching me to chain her to our bed and rescue Banand and Zurronar myself.

She looked up at me, her dark locks cascading down her back. “You stay safe too.” Even now, despite constant reassurance, a trickle of fear that our love would result in my death, remained.

“Little imposter, the Fates brought us together for a reason. I will not die, not until we’ve won this war and I’ve had centuries to explore every inch of your body,” I growled.

Assyria’s pupils darkened. “You definitely have more exploring to do.”

“As do you,” I rumbled, hand trailing down her ribs to dig into her hips. “I want you to uncover every dark desire you were denied. I’ll make you feel so alive, you’ll forget anything occurred before our bond snapped in place. Every breath, every touch, every orgasm you have in your body—they are all mine.”

My cock hardened against the tight leather of my pants as lust flooded our bond. I dragged Assyria closer so she could feel the promise in my words. “Tonight, we’ll celebrate our victory with sweat and skin and those sweet sounds you make when my mouth is between your thighs.”

Fisting the back of her hair, I crashed my lips against hers, not caring that the soldiers bore witness. There was nothing tender about this kiss; it was all claim, all possession, all brutality. My teeth sank into her bottom lip and drew a hint of blood. My tongue lapped at it before twining with hers and letting the metallic taste coat both our mouths.

Assyria’s chest heaved as I released her. “Now call upon your magic.”

She blinked a few times, the haze of desire lifting from her. After a glance over my shoulder, I adjusted my dick to a more comfortable position. Fires sprang to life around us as night encroached, casting flickering light over the utter perfection that was Assyria’s face.

Throwing me one last lustful look, she brushed her hands over Araquiel’s clothing. Then, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Obsidian burst from her hands and swirled around her in a violent twister. After realizing how slowly she worked to pull on her disguises, I’d suggested she use her shadows around her body to help. Her time to transform had plummeted, until it took only a blink for her to become an Imposter.

I’d barely had time to marvel at how proud I was before the Angel stared back at me, taller, fuller, and with turquoise eyes utterly unfamiliar to me.

Our bond grew muffled, like someone had thrown a thick fur over it. The pure, unfettered fear that had gripped me from the moment she didn’t respond to my call on the salt flats roared back to life.

“Can you hear me?” Assyria spoke into my mind, immediately easing the worry.

“Aye,” I replied, a hint of relief trickling in despite my attempt to keep my tone even. We’d been practicing for days, and although I knew that we could speak, hearing her voice soothed me in a way I previously would have refused to admit.

A few of the males gasped before faking a cough. None of them had seen Assyria’s magic before, and a primary reason for their selection was because their lips could be trusted not to move once we returned to camp. Only a handful knew exactly what power her burgundy eyes offered her.

It was best to keep it that way. After all, the reason for our strike was because word of Banand’s power to create plagues had spread into the Angel’s camp. What would the Angels do if they knew my mate could walk among them undetected?

Clearing my throat, I leaned down to pick up my mask, but froze with my fingers wrapped around the metal. Assyria placed her hand on my arm. I almost threw her over my shoulder and carried her back to our camp-home. But I was trying to do better, be better for her.

So I dragged in a breath and secured the final piece of my armor over my head. Horns of wicked ebony curled from the black skull that covered my face. Only my eyes shone through the sockets. The helmet was designed to intimidate and remind the fucking zealots exactly who I was.

Settling it in place did that for me too. “Let’s go,” I commanded, violence threaded in my tone. A bloodthirsty grin spread across Rapp’s face, and he banged his fist against his chest. The other males did the same, a roar of pride tearing from them.