My footsteps become less certain. “Why?” I ask, again the softest whisper because the quiet around us is oppressive now and Roman’s boots sound like bullets on the pavement.
He makes a low, rumbling sound—the kind of sound I previously mistook for his wolf’s growl—and it sends a cold shiver down my spine. “Because I’m the devil the King sends when he wants someone dead.”
The chill that was rocketing across my spine spirals back up again. Koda had warned me in Vegas that I was walking beside the real devil the whole time.
Roman follows my focus briefly back to the woman who is curled around her child—and then to the male demon who is huddled beside the woman. Weirdly, he’s covering his ears with his hands.
“Some demons believe that to see me is to see their own death,” Roman says, his voice devoid of any emotion. “And that to hear my voice is to hear the sound of their end. For that reason, I rarely walk these streets.”
“Yet you gave me the choice of walking,” I murmur, my stomach swirling and unsettled. “Why?”
He’s quiet, as if he’s considering his answer even more carefully. “Your father is the strongest demon,” he says. “He has a gift for rallying his people to his side. But even a benevolent ruler has to make ugly decisions. I kept his hands clean.”
That doesn’t really answer my question, but it feels like he’s trying to say something without being direct about it. My breathing is a little more rapid than I want it to be as I ask, “What are you trying to tell me?”
Roman gives me a wry smile. “They see your hair, Nova. Word will spread quickly. But not one of these demons will wish to harm you now that they’ve seen you walking beside me like your father does.”
The cold truth settles within me. “You took walks like this with my father.”
“Wherever you go now, the people will remember this,” Roman says. “If they mess with you, they’ll be messing with me.”
My heart aches and at the same time, my body heats, remembering again Roman’s hands and mouth on me, the way he destroyed my inhibitions. I consider carefully the changes to his features. His hair, which looked darker because I thought it was wet, but seems to drag at the light. His eyes, which swirl with onyx. And I wonder… how much of Roman have I actually seen? How much more about him is there to find out?
The more I find out about Roman, the less I seem to know.
It bothers me, deep inside, that so much of what I thought we shared was an illusion, but at the same time… I’m intrigued. The darker parts of my soul want to uncover every truth about him. This demon who is deadly and feared. Not just uncover these parts of him, but also tame him. Truth be told, no matter how betrayed I felt today, I know I’ll never quash the feelings he created within me from the first moment I saw him. Shrouded in shadows in that damn dive bar.
“Why don’t I instinctively fear you?” I ask, hoping that this question is not too revealing since I don’t want to give the demons around us any ammunition to use against me. I’m sure my brethren have eyes and ears everywhere—even if most of them are covered at the moment. “Not even the first time I saw you, or when you kept showing up in the same places as me… I was cautious, but never afraid.”
Roman’s lips thin slightly, and at first, I think it’s because he’s angry, but as a barely-audible chuckle escapes him, I realize he’s trying to suppress unexpected humor. “You’ve faced off against nightmares, angels, demons, and supernaturals who worked to knock you down from the time you could walk,” he says to me. “Not once have I seen you display fear. What makes you think you would fear me?”
We both know the danger Roman poses to me is far beyond any of those supernaturals, even the angel.
“Like appeals to like,” I finally say, reasoning it out in my mind before I continue. “I’m a creature of nightmares, bonded to demon wolves. We’re both predators, even if we constrain our inner natures.”
“There’s much more to you than that, Nova,” he says, suddenly intensely serious. “I know you didn’t ask for these trials, and my intention was never for you to end up in Mortem, but now that fate has taken the choice out of our hands, maybe this is a chance for you to find your true power and strength.”
He stops speaking and looks up. My senses prickle as I turn to face what can only be the Citadel.
It’s set back from the gleaming street while a long, straight path leads up to its front. Like the prison, it doesn’t appear to have an entrance, although we’re far enough away that a door might present itself when we get closer.
The building is at least ten stories higher than any other in Zilron, with a massive silver sculpture embedded on the left-hand side that I didn’t see from the crystal bridge—the same symbol of the royal rune that I wear on my arm.
Black pillars rise up at intervals along the street while there are steel structures situated in two curves on either side of the vast open area in front of the Citadel. As we follow the path toward the front of the building, I see that the curved structures are bleachers, and I imagine that demons must gather here at times.
I reach for my wolves, needing their familiar energy more than ever. Blitz presses against my legs, the fastest to move, giving his unconditional comfort. It’s what I need without my sisters, and it helps me relax.
As we approach the front of the building and still no door presents itself, Roman says, “Let’s see if the Citadel recognizes your birthright. If it does, you should be able to walk right in.”
I wonder if he senses my sudden anxiety because he moves a touch closer to me so that our arms brush as we walk.
I take another glance up the shiny, silver building and what looks like thousands of windows spanning the many stories. It reminds me so much of the swanky apartment blocks that fill many of Earth’s larger cities. Swanky but without any character—cold and sterile. With another deep breath, I step from Roman’s side and I stride toward what I think has to be the main doors. I can make out the slight seam where it will open if I’m permitted to enter.
If I’m wrong, I’m about to faceplant into the side of the Citadel and give the few lingering demons who haven’t escaped Roman’s presence a delightful bit of gossip.
I hold my breath as I approach the wall, my eyes fluttering shut, sensing that I need to trust the process or it won’t work, no matter what my bloodline is.
Another few steps and my eyes fly open to find that I’ve passed right through the wall and into the Citadel. As have my wolves, all four of them stepping inside behind me.
