Reynner understood his concerns. Unlike other realms, the seven dominions of Empyrea resonated with arcane energy, siphoned from the seven mystical Stones of Light.
Two thousand years ago, one of the Stones had vanished and the link was broken. Their realm would eventually fade and die unless the missing artifact was found and brought back.
The green-eyed female had better be the one they sought. Heavens help them all if he was wrong.
First, Reynner had to get his hotheaded prince to calm down before he could go after her.
His body still far too tense, Reynner willed the door to open farther. He hoped the breeze would cool his ardor, but that thought got shot to Hades when his dick seemed hell-bent on reminding him of how he’d responded to her.
“Do you know who you ambushed and almost killed before Daén sent you to me?” Reynner asked, trying to shut off desires that had no place in his life.
“Rebels, who else?” Aerén’s lips curled in disgust. “Those insipid degenerates deserve nothing less than a slow, torturous death.”
“No. Those were Darkrean males returning home after a stint of hunting. Had you killed them, the Darkreans would have retaliated, and you would have started another civil war.”
“And you see a difference? Rebels, Darkreans, they are just leeches who will bleed Empyrea into oblivion.”
Reynner nailed him an annoyed look. “They are still Empyreans, and as such, it is Daén’s job as ruler to deal with this situation. You need to stand beside your brother and help him. Not be a bloody hindrance.” He hoped his words landed with the impact of a boulder on Aerén’s hard head.
He glared. Apparently not.
“You’re high-lord of Ademéras. What areyoudoing to protect your domain?” Aerén demanded.
“Ademéras doesn't need me, it has a ruler,” Reynner stated, his tone flat. “My mother can take care of her territory.”
Aerén stared at him in disbelief. “Lucan’s right. You have become cold and heartless.”
“It’s good you know that.”
“Hell sure killed you,” Aerén shot back.
“Be thankful you never have to live that shit. Now, get yourself in gear and train with me, or go vent your frustrations elsewhere.” Reynner stalked off to the other end and the small, roughly excavated space he used as a changing room, Aerén’s words following him.
Cold. Heartless.
They pounded in his head as he grabbed a pair of sweats and a tee from the wooden shelf. Pain, he could live with since it was his constant companion. But guilt ate at his soul, knowing he was responsible for Ariana’s death and for much of Aerén’s anguish.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he changed and headed back to the gym.
Aerén turned from the window, regret crossing his face. “Reyn, my pardon. I should not have said that.”
“It’s all true. I'm not what I once was.”
Eons ago, he’d lived for the fights, fun, and females—in any order.
“I guess none of us are. But I cannot be closed off here. I have to do something.” Aerén shoved an impatient hand through his damp hair. “Let me fight with you in the mortal realm.”
Reynner understood Aerén’s frustration and helplessness all too well, but it was far too dangerous. “I kill demoniis,Aerén. They're vicious, and they feed on the blood and souls of humans who cannot protect themselves.”
Except it wasn’t really about protecting humans. It was the one thing that gave him purpose after his escape from Hell, to end every one of the soulless fuckers.
“And for that you have to learn control, especially with the kind of powers we possess. Your shield slips even for a second, and you’d destroy more than just the city—you’d leave no survivors. You’d bring down the wrath of the archangel.
“Trust me, you don’t want Michael on your ass. Or worse, Gaia, the ancient goddess who watches over that world. You’re pissed at everything right now. Learn to control your temper, and then we’ll talk.”
Aerén’s mouth thinned.
Good. For a hothead like him, it must have been difficult to lock down his jaw.
