“Hey!” I protested, and Talon growled beside me.
“Relax, furballs. Ihaveto help—or at least level the playing field. Fucking favors, I hate them,” Oz grumbled. He shook his head in resignation. “Should’ve listened to my asshole dad—never do favors for anyone, son; they’ll always bite you in the ass. He was right.” His glare briefly flicked to Everett before continuing, “Damn witches,” he sneered, “and bloody crones.”
With a casual flick of his wrist, Oz’s demeanor shifted from annoyance to command. The surrounding air seemed to pulse with power, a low hum vibrating through the room. In an instant, our surroundings morphed dramatically—the interior of the Pride house was replaced by the grandeur of a massive throne room.
As I glanced around, the sheer scale and opulence took my breath away. High, vaulted ceilings loomed overhead, adorned with intricate frescoes depicting epic battles and historic demon lore. The walls were lined with towering pillars, each carved from what looked like obsidian, shimmering with an eerie light that cast long, dancing shadows across the polished floor.
The room was bustling with an array of demons and creatures, each more bizarre and menacing than the last. They milled about, their conversations halting as they noticed our sudden appearance. Whispers and wary glances were exchanged, a tangible tension filling the air as they recognized their emperor and the unexpected guests at his side.
Oz strode forward, his presence commanding attention. He moved with a regal confidence towards a raised dais at the far end of the room. With each step, his form changed, his body expanding and contorting. His human-like appearance melted away, replaced by a towering figure that dominated the space. His skin turned a deep, blood red, and massive black horns curled from his forehead, arching menacingly towards the sky.
Reaching the dais, Oz ascended the steps and turned to face the gathering. His transformation was complete now; he stood in full demonic form—imposing and awe-inspiring. The murmurs in the room grew louder, a mixture of reverence and fear rippling through the crowd.
Settling onto a colossal throne that seemed crafted from bones and raw volcanic stone, Oz raised his hands, commanding silence. The room fell deathly quiet, and all eyes fixed upon him.
“Domi’zel! Jul’phanar!” Oz’s voice boomed, echoing off the stone walls. It rolled over us like thunder, filled with power and an undeniable authority.
As the names hung in the air, I scanned the room anxiously, searching for any sign of Dominic. Could the Emperor really summon him just like that? My heart raced with hope and fear.
Hang on, Dominic. We’re here, I whispered inwardly, clutching Talon’s hand tighter, waiting for our mate to appear amidst the gathered demons and darkness.
Ring of Retribution
Dominic
Sweatandbloodmingledas they dripped down my face, each drop stinging my eyes like acid. The clamor of battle rang deafeningly around me, the screams of the wounded and the clash of steel forming a hellish symphony. We were losing ground, our forces scattered and disorganized under the relentless assault. My heart raced, my breaths came in ragged gasps, and the grip on my sword felt slippery with sweat.
Just then, amidst the chaos, a sight tore through my defenses like a dagger—Jorin, my stalwart companion and trusted captain, clashed fiercely with Mal’Zak, one of the main princes leading the assault alongside Juls. Time seemed to slow as I watched the duel, powerless to intervene as distance separated us.
With a vicious strike that seemed to split the very air, Mal’Zak’s blade found its mark. Jorin’s eyes met mine, filled with a mix of defiance and apology, before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The world narrowed to a pinprick, the sounds of battle fading into a distant echo. Jorin, fallen. The sight ignited a fire within me, a blaze of rage and sorrow so intense it threatened to consume everything.
“Jorin!” I roared, surging forward.
I had to get to him. It couldn’t end like this. Fueled by raw emotion, I cleaved through enemy lines with a ferocity I hadn’t known I possessed. They would all die; I’d kill them. But as I neared Juls, the architect of this nightmare, my momentum faltered. He was waiting, his expression a mask of cold amusement.
“You should’ve accepted my offer, Dom,” Juls taunted. “You could have had it all. Now, look—your captain lies dead. Soon, you’ll be less than my servant.”
I roared and charged; my blades lifted high in a fury. Juls would pay for the chaos, for his betrayal, and most of all, for the death of Jorin. He lifted his sword and launched to intercept.
But before our hits could land, we were thrown back and tumbled to the ground. I jerked my gaze to Juls, shocked and surprised. Juls’ eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath like he’d been hit. I was sure my expression mirrored his. A power that I hadn’t felt in millennia had stopped us. The minions and the other princes halted their fight and stared in awe. They had felt the power, too. The power of the call. The summons that no demon could refuse.
“Dominic!” In an instant, Talon and Lucas were at my side, wiping the blood from my face. “Are you okay?” they asked, their voices overlapping with concern.
“What… What are you doing here?” I managed, brushing off their queries. I reached out, touching them, half-believing they might vanish. They shouldn’t be here. They should be safe, far from this chaos.
Before they could answer, I noticed we weren’t alone. My gaze widened as I took in the faces of King Edward, several lions of the Pride, and Lucas’s family, all bearing expressions of grim determination and concern.
“What are all of you doing here?” I asked, my voice cracking with a mix of relief and overwhelming fear for their safety.
King Edward stepped forward, his presence commanding even amidst the chaos. “We’re here to stand with you, Dominic. No one fights alone today,” he declared, his voice resolute.
Lucas’s mother, with fire in her eyes despite her usual calm demeanor, added, “We couldn’t just sit by. You’re a Bondar now, and we fight together.”
“Why did you call us here? Why did you intervene?” Juls demanded, cutting off any more of our conversation.
The emperor, seated on his mighty throne, roared back, his voice thunderous. “How dare you question me? Is that how you greet your liege?”
Juls, obviously sensing his error, dropped to his knees. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. The heat of battle clouded my judgment, and the abruptness of the summoning disoriented me,” he stammered.
