Page 65 of Insurrection
My only concern was that he would get himself killed in the process.
I jolted at a low, dangerous growl. Drayven let me have a few inches of space, his gaze meeting mine before he nodded sharply. I called my scythe, the feel of the familiar metal in my hand and the power pulsating through me helping ground me, and I realized why Drayven had been okay with letting go.
Damien's massive Hellhound frame was now covering my other side as he pressed his nose against my leg, sniffing me. I had a feeling he was scenting for blood to see if I was injured. I wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that. Possibly annoyed, but also stupidly warm and fuzzy because Damien was once again trying to protect me. Very confusing, indeed. When he snapped his massive teeth, I froze, staring at the dangerous weapons and listening to the deep, low growl coming from his throat as he glared at the nearest threat. A few elves who had ventured far too close for comfort.
I wasn't going to analyze why I found his blatantly terrifying behavior so damn sexy.
Also, was it just me, or were there an insane number of elves filling the room? The numbers alone were terrifying, and that wasn't even considering the blatant powers they exhibited.
Colt's father slammed his hand on the table, his voice low and thunderous, "What is the meaning of this?!"
My gaze jumped to Colt, who had his body wedged between his mother and the nearing Dark Elves, a storm brewing in his gaze as he looked around, seeming to calculate what his next move was. I would absolutely love to know what he thought because I was clueless at this point. Colt might have been a frustrating bastard, but I would absolutely follow his command if he found a way for us all to get out of here safe and sound.
"Save your words," the Queen of Sin laughed, looking absolutely elated and almost manic. I could feel her energy from here, and anger surged through me. Were they going to use their Incubus and Succubus powers to influence those around us? To try to make us more pliable to their wishes? If they did that...well, I wouldn't hesitate to lose my shit.
Rather the opposite. That would give me every inch of justification to hurt them.
"No," Colt's father hissed. "You think your little plan will be successful!?"
Clearly it was. We were practically at their mercy.
"You think you can slaughter all of us and our people will bow down to you?! We might not have wanted war between the houses, but this is too far. We were being gracious when we gave you seats at the table, despite the devil himself never choosing you to represent your houses. I realize now he was right."
At the end of his statement, King Celorn’s onyx-colored wings snapped out fully, silver glinting off the edges of each outer feather, as if they had lethal blades attached to them.Wicked.
I knew I needed to stay quiet because, with how much they disliked me, I would only push people over the edge, not help. We needed a way to handle this that would ensure the least amount of blood was shed, if that was even possible. I could practically feel the blood lust radiating off the elves around me. I tightened my fist around my scythe as I looked around, trying to find something to fix this.
Nico's mother walked towards the center of the room, her head held high as she offered a smooth response. "As I said, your words don't matter to me. In fact, I would choose them more carefully because you likely won't be making it out of here alive. The men and women in this room have orders to kill you at a single command, and even more wait outside. You've lost, Celorn."
I shifted my eyes from her and nearly gagged when I met the gaze of her husband, who was leaning against the inside edge of his table and rubbing his ridiculously obvious hard-on over his pants. His eyes were focused on the bruising around my neck, and I immediately found myself baring my teeth at him, growling sharply and making my Hellhound's hackles rise. King Marcelo’s responding smile was sick and dangerous.
"Damien." A feminine voice that seemed to be seeped in warning had me glancing back at Damien's mother, who looked absolutely lethal, her dark eyes flashing with a ring of fire as her husband vibrated with tension, seeming ready to shift and rip out the throats of everyone in the room. Something I was completely not opposed to. I could tell she was worried about her son attacking the King of Sin, considering he was edging towards him, but Damien didn't move farther than in front of me, the low growling vibration emanating from his chest soothing me in an odd way.
When a high whistle sounded, I looked to Damien's father, who was eyeing the open doors and windows as if waiting for something.
"Your forces won't be coming to save you," Finias' father offered dismissively. "Convenient that the joint training exercises for the military forces this morning took place outside the Summit walls, wasn't it? You will find the entire place warded against those pathetic excuses for military options you've brought."
Damnit. They really had thought of everything. Well...except one thing.
I wasn't positive how the House of Sin and House of Runes thought they would take down the royals of each house when they were, from my knowledge, the most powerful and accomplished fighters of their houses. I eyed the forces around us, knowing that they were a rather vicious crew. I mean, assassins were considered assassins for a reason. Still, they seemed extremely confident, which had me assuming they had something up their sleeves—and that unknown factor scared me.
There was still a question though that permeated everything else and had the ability to absolutely shatter my heart. Had Finias known? Currently, he was standing next to his parents, his gaze on the table in front of him. He seemed completely emotionless and indifferent to the entire experience. I wondered for a moment if maybe he had been part of this the whole time. When his violet gaze met mine for the briefest moment, though, I saw a darkness there that had me confident not only that he was furious, but also that he hadn't expected this.
His fingers drew up his arms as he quietly spoke words I couldn't hear.
When his tattoos began to light up, each one a different color, until his entire right arm was a beautiful array of glowing art, his father growled and narrowed his eyes at him. His purple eyes turned into steely daggers as he spoke in a hard tone, "You may be our son, but don't mistake me Finias: if you interfere for that whore, I will kill you. This is the only warning you will get."
A few people in the room made startled sounds, telling me that people hadn’t been aware of what abusive assholes Finias’ parents were towards him. I wasn't shocked by the words, and I didn't doubt that his father meant them. He would, without a doubt, kill his son if Finias tried to prevent him from reaching his goal.
Finias didn't move—didn't react—his body vibrating with a tension that was reflected through the room. His gaze moved across the room to where Nico stood, his entire body frozen and face filled with shock, enough so that I also didn't question whether he had known about this or not.
It was clear he hadn't.
"So, this is how it's going to work." King Marcelo stood straight from where he'd been leaning, stopping his gross assault on his own crotch, "I am willing to graciously give you an option. You can either be killed or willingly become our prisoners." His eyes fell to mine as he offered a dark smile, "I think I have a few special positions for each of you—"
A bloody gurgle filled the air as a dagger was embedded in his throat. My eyes widened.
Finias' father laughed, "Did you really think we would allow you to rule jointly with us? Or did you think us dumb enough to not know you would have taken the first opportunity you had to kill us as well?" I was listening to his words, but they were interrupted by the shrieking of Queen Anastasia as she fell over to hold her husband's crumpled form. I might have hated the motherfuckers, but shit, that was...that was something else.
