Page 39 of Hell's Secret Omega

“Dream of my touch, bright flame.”

Chapter 24

CYRUS

Being awayfrom Mezor aches worse than heat. But they have no choice. Cyrus returns to Court, and Mezor to his duties, with an agreement to meet as often as possible whenever Mezor is not beyond the gate.

The first time Mezor shows him how to travel in and out of the grotto, Cyrus is incensed.

“Youdidtrick me. I’ve been here!”

They’ve emerged into a hall Cyrus is familiar with—one of many smaller tributaries off the Obsidian Wing. Another demon might have overlooked such a hall when searching, but Cyrus has walked past this exact spot at least three times. Except clever shadows make it look like a blank wall from the outside, hiding the opening.

Mezor waves a hand to dissipate the shadows. “It was a necessary cruelty.”

At least he sounds contrite.

“How many have won yourlover’s challenge?” Cyrus demands.

“None.” Mezor arches a brow. “Save you.”

“But I didn’t win. I passed right by the entrance.”

“You’ve won, bright flame.” The nickname sends shivers up his spine. “Trust me.”

He comes to the grotto late at night to drown in the Hunter’s embrace, not even allowing himself the luxury of sleep. Every gentle touch, every delightful peak, even the moments when his eyes take in lush growth instead of bare stone set a whirlwind spinning in his heart. He longs to believe Mezor and his grotto are real, even if temporary. But history has him waiting for the hammer.

“I won’t always be here,” Mezor warns him. “I will try to make my trips short, of course, to spare you. But the wilds are unpredictable.”

Cyrus shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Your task is important. I’ll live.”

Mezor frowns as if he wants to disagree—but of course he can’t.

He lives, but he suffers. On the days Mezor is away and the pain is at its worst—when he wants nothing more than to crawl into his nest and feel sorry for himself—he instead imagines Hell as it used to be. Then he imagines it burning up. What is it like to lose everything? Kin, home, future. It must be the kind of pain that digs into the soul. That’s what drives Mezor.

It’s during one of these periods that Cyrus finds himself back at the forge.

It’s time. He clutches the ledger papers to his chest. Strangely, he isn’t afraid anymore.

It’s early yet; the bellows clang as the forge starts up, and steam releases out the top of the hammer in irregular shrieks. Near the hammer, a tall, broad-shouldered demon with wickedly curved horns ties a heavy leather apron around his waist. Cyrus heads straight for him, ignoring the shouts as he crosses the floor. He even dusted off his uniform today—he stands out, theQuartermaster’s officious little lieutenant who’s too big for his boots.

It doesn’t matter what they think of him. It only matters that the numbers make their point.

“Claudius?” Cyrus says loudly, pausing safely out of arms’ reach.

“What?” the demon growls, turning on his heel. Black callouses stain his palms and old burn scars run up his forearms. His forehead creases when he sees Cyrus. “You! I’ve told you, I’ll report the repairs to the Quartermaster when they’re done?—”

“I’m not here about that,” Cyrus interrupts. He presses on quickly before the inevitable hand comes out to cuff him. “I’ve heard you’re with the Grey Company.”

Claudius’s expression turns furious. He reaches for the knife at his belt. “Who told you that?”

“No one told me. The walls whisper.”

“Did Leuther send you?”

“I’m not here on anyone’s behalf.” He shakes out the sheaf of papers. “I’m an excellent account keeper, sir. The Quartermaster couldn’t ask for better. But if he were to start keeping his own accounts, he might notice something odd about the numbers.”

Claudius snatches the papers. As he reads them, his face darkens with alarm. Cyrus has calculated the discrepancies between what the stores should be and what they were when he counted them. In truth, on his own Magnus might never realize the Grey Company is stealing. Cyrus has been making the ledger for so long because the Quartermaster isn’t as clever as he pretends, another thing Magnus hates him for. But the Grey Company don’t know that.

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