Page 5 of Spring's Descent
I wondered if all people were like that. Able to flash a smile and a few soothing words for the public but commit vile acts in the shadows. Did compassion even really exist, or was it simply something we pretended to feel? Another tool to keep the weak and impressionable people of the world oppressed?
“Come now, Korae,” Cyrus tsked as he bent down beside me, careful to step outside the pool of blood flowing freely from my lacerated wrists and ankles. My left eye was swollen shut, and there was a bubbling wheeze in my lungs. Maybe this time my injuries would be too great, and I’d finally get some peace. “Hate me all you like, but we both know you’ll do as you’re told.”
I recoiled from his touch, the jarring motion causing my vision to spot. Mother had used her magic on me before, but this was pushing it. If I were awakened, I’d be stronger and able to heal, but right now, I was as good as human. If I kept bleeding for just a few moments longer, this would all be over…
Cyrus’s cruel laugh pulled me back to the present as his hands clamped around the raw, ripped tissue of my wrists.
“Don’t worry, Korae.” His breath heated my cheek as he leaned in, the smell of lilac clinging to his skin—my mother’s scent. “Once you’re awakened, things will be different. You’ll see.”
Cold energy flooded into me from Cyrus’s grip, slowly working its way up my arms. It felt like sludge, like clumps of rotting grass clogged my veins, forcing its way through my body. Splintered bones snapped back into place as vessels knit themselves back together.
“That was close,” Cyrus said, rolling out his shoulders as fell back, catching myself on my hands.
My palms dug into the blood-stained grass as I panted for air. All of my injuries had been healed as if I hadn’t been on the verge of death moments before. My body might be free of scars, but I was left with an oily residue of his magic violating the crisp cleanness of my own. And though I knew Cyrus had saved my life, had given instead of taken, I couldn’t help but feel as if I’ve been used.
“But now we know how much fun you can handle.” Cyrus dragged me to stand, pinching my chin between his fingers as he pressed a disgustingly soft kiss to my forehead. “Once you bind yourself to me, we can play every day.”
3
HADES
Blood drippedfrom the mortal’s mouth, the steady dribble running down his neck and staining his ruined tunic as he struggled to breathe. My shadows held him by the throat, keeping his boots just barely scraping the smooth white rock of my torture chamber. Red was everywhere, spraying the walls, pooling along the floor. It looked like a grotesque painting from a mad artist.
And gods, was I creating a masterpiece.
Allowing my head to drop back, I inhaled deeply, relishing the metallic tang of copper and fear. My lips stretched into a satisfied grin as I spotted ruby drops splashed across the ceiling.
Delightful.
“Please,” the man cried, tears squeezing out beneath the swollen pulp of skin that was once his face. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything.”
My fists clenched, the veins along my forearms standing out as I fought the urge to punch him again. The sound of his voice alone was nearly enough to send me into a blind rage all over again.
I hadn’t bothered to ask questions when I’d found him. Hadn’t been able to think around the scent ofherclinging to hisbody—a faint hint of wildflowers among the rot of stale beer and horses. Even now, with the walls decorated in his blood, it took every fiber of my wretched being not to let my shadows rip him to pieces.
This was how it had been for the last hundred years. Nothing but rage and pain and the occasional partner I used for pleasure. I remembered feeling other emotions before. Joy. Lust. Maybe even something close to love, once. But not anymore. The Underworld was crumbling. An entire realm full of souls relied on me to keep them safe… and I was failing.
With deliberate slowness, I crept toward him, allowing my ram horns to shimmer into being as I fed on his terror. I was The Devil Beneath, the monster those in the Realm of the Living ran from. Fuck, even my brothers and sisters chose to avoid The Underworld, fearful of my wrath. And right now, with my great, leathery wings cast wide and the normal cerulean blue of my eyes eclipsed in black, I looked every bit the creature of darkness that I was.
“Where is she?”
His chest heaved as his breath came in rapid pants, each expansion causing a wince. “Who?”
My shadows tightened around his throat, yanking him off the floor completely. He struggled, his fingers clawing at the band of darkness around his neck as his eyes bulged.
Nostrils flaring, I gripped his chin between my fingers, forcing him to meet my cursed gaze.
“Look at me,” I commanded, my upper lip curling as the scent of his terror spiked.
“Please,” he cried as his eyes met mine, his body trembling around a silent scream.
Slipping into his mind, I called forward the horror of his nightmares, forcing him to relive each one. It was one of my many talents as Lord of the Underworld, one that I enjoyed quitea bit. I grew strong on his suffering, watching as the pulse in his neck thrummed, as his skin paled and his body quaked.
Delightful.
Only after a hopeless whimper tore itself from his throat did I let up.
“The woman you sank your cock into,” I snarled, shadows growing denser around us as the temperature dropped.