Page 63 of Fortune Academy: Year Three
He glowered. “You left me to burn in Hell for centuries. What do you think?”
She fell back a step, then turned an angry gaze on Cole. “You. You turned him against me. Undo this!” She snapped her fingers and I gasped as an agonizing burn radiated throughout my chest. “Fix it or I rip out your precious mate’s heart!”
Cole’s gaze fell on me and in that instant I knew that a piece of him belonged to me. It always had ever since he’d left hell, but a demon like him wouldn’t be tamed so easily.
The mate-bond flooded with emotion as Cole released the damper he’d put on it as indecision fluxed in his heart. He’d wanted to kill me, to toy with me and release his rage on my mates.
That was all he knew. He’d spent an eternity living as a slave to his nature and it frightened him that perhaps there was another way.
Because if he accepted that, he’d have to accept the guilt that came with all the horrible things he’d done.
“No one commands me,” he snarled, his voice booming with rage.
I saw when he lost the battle. What empathy I’d spotted in his gaze faded as he roared and went for Lancelot. He lashed out, his tail transforming into a sharp edge that sliced clean through Lancelot’s neck, beheading him in an instant.
The knight’s head tumbled to the Arena floor—and the Dean screamed.
Searing pain cascaded through my body as an invisible hand reached into my chest and ripped out my heart.
I wasn’t sure if it was my bracelet finally kicking in, or the power of my death, but Hell opened up at my feet and sucked us all in.
I’d been to Hell once already, but this endless meadow glistening with dew was not it.
“Where am I?” I asked the emptiness.
No response, not even the familiar hum of my mate-bond I’d grown so accustomed to.
My heart clenched when I realized I couldn’t feel any of my mates.
Had I actually died?
A silhouette broke the fog in the distance as massive bat-like wings spread in the darkness.
Cole approached me, naked and in his full glory as Hellfire ran delicate blue flames over his body. His muscular core flexed as he took deliberate steps, approaching me with such authority and confidence that I couldn’t do anything except watch him, mesmerized.
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising me with a delicate touch across my jaw. His tail closed around my ankle, securing me as if he was afraid I might run. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
An apology from a rage demon?
Not sure what to make of him, I gave in to the urge to mimic his motions as I ran my fingers over the hard line of his jaw. Everything about him was otherworldly perfection. “Why did you kill Lancelot?” The ancient knight had briefly taken Merlin’s form, only to be so rudely decapitated.
Then… the Dean has done something to me, but I couldn’t quite remember it.
Cole frowned, lines marring his otherwise perfect face. “She pissed me off, so I killed the only thing she cared about.”
A simple explanation. Cole only knew anger and every decision was easy when driven by rage.
Confusion tormented him now, evident in his red gaze as he contemplated my face. His fingers continued to explore me, running over my cheek and across my lower lip. “I regret it, I think.”
“Can demons regret?” I asked.
“No,” he said flatly as his fingers trailed lower, caressing my collarbone before he closed his grip around my arm. “And yet, I do.”
“What do you regret? Did you know Lancelot?”
His gaze ran over me as if he wanted to memorize every curve. “I knew him, but I regret my actions causing your death.”
I went rigid.
