Shit!Grunting, Nate locked down on mental shields and rubbed his temples. He had to stop provoking that side of himself. Hell, he sure was fucked, having to fight for even a sliver of inner peace. But he could never accept that part of him, and never would.
As the pain eased, he scanned the massive, dark mountain range separating Azgor’s territory of Ys from Eurymos’ Run—the blood-demon lands—in the distance.
The oppressive air stirred, and an eight-footzaikondemon sentry clad in gray materialized, a pronged weapon fisted, the tips spurting flames. Enormous horns—his species namesake—swept back from his chitinous brow, his barbed tail swishing back and forth. Not like Azgor needed a guard or protection. He just relished in the pomp and glory.
“Where’s Azgor?” Nate asked.
Red eyes stared down at Nate, pinpoints of lights set beneath a ridged forehead tapering to a flat scaly snout. The demon lowered his flaming fork and flicked a claw behind him. “At his bath,” he grunted in an abrasive click of words.
Nate studied the looming volcano at the far side of the mountains, spitting out bits of lava instead of smoking like a chimney. Yup, he was in residence.
Azgor wasn’t just the Archdemon of Voracity but a collector, and a ruthless one at that, securing the souls of those he punished, and the symbiotic blood from the rare beings who possessed them. Hell, the bastard went after any damn thing he coveted, and he had a penchant for deadly fights. Azgor cared little for any lifeform. Everyone was expendable—unless you caught his notice. Like Nate had.
A decade ago, after training with Aba and honing his fighting skills, Nate had sought out Azgor to take over his sire’s job. Better him than having his father tied to the ruthless male. Surprising him, Azgor had readily acquiesced, freeing Aba from his servitude for stealing the cursed symbiont that had saved Nate’s life. So, he’d stepped in, hunting the rare and unattainable for a demon who could never be satisfied, and killing those who crossed him.
Until that one damn night…
Nate left Azgor’s fortress after another job and another senseless killing, striding through the dark town of Ys, needing to clear his head.
Three heavyset demons stepped in his path.
“Look what we have here.” One of the mofos smirked.
“Come on,vyerav’k, let’s see what you’ve got,” another taunted, circling him like vultures.
Same bullying, different assholes since his childhood. Nate ignored them, sidestepping the trio.
“He thinks to dismiss us?” One shoved him. Another lashed out, punching him in the face, sending him flying into a building.
Frustrated to his eyeballs that they wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone, something within him snapped. Nate shot up, a dark rage erupting from the deepest part of him, taking over in a red haze. He tore into them, fists connecting with flesh, bones snapping, screams echoing…
Then he was alone in a blood-soaked alley, standing amidst scattered heads, a spine ripped from one’s body, a massive hole plundered in another’s chest, a crushed heart on the ground, severed limbs everywhere…
His entire being roared with renewed vigor, the glee within him escalating. He stared blankly at his fingers dripping blood… Not fingers but scaly black extremities with elongated talons!
His mind crashed back online, sharp teeth puncturing into his lower lip—
Fangs? No-no!
Yesss,a sibilant voice in his head hissed.We are one noooow.
“Well done,” a familiar voice drawled.
Nate whipped around to the maw of the alley, blood thundering to his head.
Azgor stood there with his guards. “Come, Natek, let us talk…”
Once Azgor had seen signs of the merciless creature Nate harbored, there was no escape. The moment he’d offered to take on Aba’s job, he’d unknowingly walked straight into a trap.
Thezaikonhissed, pronged fork flaming again, reminding Nate to get moving. Right. Might as well get this over with.
He flashed to the gloomy volcano mouth and down to the deep underground cavern, the deadly heat and dense sulfur almost suffocating him. Almost. Azgor made the climate safe for his chosen few, not that Nate needed the protection. He could tolerate immense heat, something he didn’t divulge to the demon.
Lava, though, would likely burn his flesh to a crisp within seconds of contact. He halted on the stone ground edging the molten pool, the bubbling and hissing magma echoing in the massive cavity. The temperature soared. Sweat beaded his brow as he strolled closer. Then his gaze lit on the unconscious demon nailed to the rockface with iron spikes in his hands, feet, and throat. Blood dripped, coagulating on the ground beneath him. Who the hell knew what the stupid sod had done to warrant Azgor’s rage and this brutal torture.
Nate didn’t react, aware he was being watched.
Azgor lounged in his hellfire bath in his demonic form, crackles of fire spurting free—as if relaxing in some tranquil lake in a forest—watching him coolly. His mammoth, two-headed hellhound terror, basking nearby, let out a low growl of warning, the spines on its neck rising.
