Page 9 of A Surrender Of Hope

“Where are you taking her, Valen? She’s still not fully recovered, and I need to check on her again!” Nox snaps, following close on Valen’s heels as we head into the hallway.“Valen!” I peek over Valen’s shoulder and watch Creed grab Nox and yank him to a stop, tossing me a pained smile before shaking his head.

“Nox, he hasn’t said a damned word since her heart started beating again, and he coaxed her back from her dreamscape. Just give him a moment. He’s obviously dealing with some shit,” Creed whispers, and Valen grunts, no doubt hearing his brothers.

“Milo!” I shout, worried about leaving him alone. I don’t want Razar to come catnap him again. Creed snaps his fingers and runs back into the room, coming back out after a few seconds with a raging and hissing Milo extended out in front of him, a look of pure terror on his face.

“It’s possessed,” Creed states, making sure to keep my cat as far away from his body as possible as he runs to catch up with us. Milo twists, trying to bite his hand, and Creed starts running in place, eyes wide with panic. “Ahh! Take it, take it!” he hollers, practically tossing Milo at Nox, who rolls his eyes in disgust.

“It’s a silly kitten. What’s wrong with you?” Nox grabs Milo from Creed, tucking him into his side, and the angry ball of orange fur instantly calms, making me raise a brow in surprise.

“Thatthingis not a kitten! It’s a fucking hazard! I’ve met feral Beastia with better temperaments than that cat.” Creed steps away from Nox, keeping a safe distance from Milo.

Squeezing Valen a little harder, I bury my nose into his neck, breathing in the fresh scent of winter air and citrus as he carries me down the dimly lit hall. “Valen?” I urge, my worry tripling as he shifts me in his hold, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist and keep my face pressed to his neck.

“I’m taking you to Jordan,” he rasps out, the words barely audible. I want to press for more, but hold my tongue and let him have a moment. When Jesthren came into that dream, he told me I died and Nox just confirmed it. I’m sure I would bean absolute mess if I had to watch Valen die, and to be honest, I’m not sure what to say. Sorry won’t work because I’m not sorry I jumped in front of that arrow, even if Razar is a catnapping bastard.

I wrinkle my nose at the thought of Razar dead, and somehow, it makes my stomach drop. I don’t like the prick, but his grunts and weird insults have made me almost fond of the quiet Regalis brother. And for the life of me, I can’t get over how he looked… how he felt when he was hovering over me naked before the battle. Or the burning anger and concern in his eyes only a few moments ago when he set Milo on me and stormed from the room. I sigh, confused at myself and Razar as I cling to Valen even more, peeking over his shoulder at Nox and Creed, who keep a safe distance from us but ensure we are always in their sights.

Nox glares at me, his heavy brow pulling down when he catches my gaze, and I know he’s pissed simply by the weird shade of red climbing up his thick neck. The man’s got to chill, or he’s going to die of a stroke or something. And why is he glaring at me? I was only trying to save his brother. Shouldn’t he be happy? Or, at the very least, less angry? My head is throbbing, and I decide I don’t have the mental willpower to figure out the youngest Regalis brother right now. Returning his glare, I move a hand off Valen’s neck and flip off the big Viking, making Creed choke out a laugh that he tries to hide with a cough.

“Thank you,” I whisper into Valen’s ear and relax into his strong hold, trying to ignore the aches in my body. My mind is swirling with questions, like what happened with the fight? We obviously won if we’re all here, right? Are the Russians still here? What about the Demon who tried to kill Razar? How many of our people were lost?

Knowing Valen needs to be in the right headspace to answer my questions, I make a mental note to get Creed alone to quizhim. Either that or I need to find Elaine. She won’t sugarcoat everything the way Creed will. I nod and close my eyes, trusting Valen to bring me to check on my friends; then I’ll find Elaine.

FIVE

Razar

“Razar? Razar, wait up!” Jesthren shouts as I storm down the hall. My mind races as the pain in my chest makes me grit my teeth, willing the numbness I kept wrapped around me for the last year to come back. I feel stripped, bared, like a wounded animal backed into a corner looking for an escape. In a span of twenty-four hours, my already twisted life has imploded to a whole new level of fucked-up.

I squeeze my eyes shut. The vision of Archer, aiming the arrows he so expertly crafts at me, then lowering his aim at my Pup flashes through my mind like a never-ending nightmare. A dream I’m forever trapped in, doomed to live over and over again until I finally lose my mind. The weight of her tiny body hanging limp in my arms, the warm blood trickling over my fingers as I stared down at her, unable to do anything to help. The damage had already been done. I couldn't protect her. She died in my arms. I felt her breaths stall, the tiny flutter of her heart slow until it gave one last thump in her chest, then nothing.

Fury courses through me as I turn a corner, watching the few Rangers who were talking there scatter like mice, the scent oftheir fear making my Beastia growl at the prey in front of him. The need to shift, to run and kill grows to an unbearable level, and I know I need to get out of this damned castle before I do something stupid.

I knew the moment my Beastia decided not to kill her back at her cabin all those months ago that there was something more to my Pup than meets the eye. She had a presence about her; the very air around her felt heavy, like it was sparking with magic. Yet when I reached out with my own to see what she was, there was nothing there. I was never convinced that Meyer was a simple Hunter, but with no evidence other than my instincts that there was something dark lingering in her eyes and the terrifying knowledge that my Beastia liked her, I had no reason to further look into her… Until now.

That mark on her wrist isn’t by some happenstance or nightmare. Meyer would have to be strong enough to bear the brand of the Devil, and I now have to figure out what the hell she is so I don't lose another thing in my life.

“Razar!” Jesthren shouts again just as a firm hand encircles my arm, yanking me to a halt. My blade is in my hand in seconds as I twist, pressing the curved blade to my brother’s throat, a bead of blood already forming against the sharp edge as I glare up at one of the men I trust most.

Jesthren arches a dark brow, unfazed by my sudden attack. I knew he wouldn’t be. Out of all my brothers besides Archer, Jesthren knows me best. We grew up together. It was the four of us, Jesthren, Valen, Archer, and me. Our parents were overjoyed at finally having the family they tried to have for years. We were all brought into the Royal family within a few months of each other—all orphans from the Shadow Wars. We welcomed Creed into our family years later, with Nox added as a tiny baby only a few decades ago.

As the oldest brother, Jesthren was always there for us, especially me. The Royals of the Veripellis Demons are shifters. They have a Beast form that comes to them as their magic grows. The stronger the Demon, the more monstrous the Beast. As the nephews of Orcus Darakhs, the King of the Veripellis, Archer and I knew we would shift eventually, but no one was prepared for what I would change into. My mother was terrified of me, and I’m sure my father was, too because he tried to help during my first shift.

Only Jesthren accepted who and what I was from the moment I first shifted. Archer had been leery, but loved me no matter what, coming to accept that part of me over time. It took Valen longer to feel comfortable in my presence. The young boy had seen firsthand what the Beastia could do—had seen his mother slaughtered in front of him by one of the monsters, and I knew he feared that side of me, but he never let it show.

“Did you know?” I growl under my breath, watching Jesthren’s face for any hint of a lie as his eyes widen in shock, then hurt as he shakes his head. “Archer was brought to you! You intervened and?—”

“And he was already dead, Razar! I brought him back to our parents and helped them grieve, and I fucking grieved alongside them! I watched his tomb being shut. I held Mara as we gave Ilithkar a Warrior’s burial! The kingdom is still in mourning. Father has the royal flame lit on the castle. He refuses to let it burn out, and mother still cries herself to sleep. I’m as shocked and devastated by this as you, brother. I swear it!”

“He preferred Archer, not Illithkar. Only Mother and Mara call him that.” I let my blade drop, hating myself for attacking him when I know this isn’t his fault. I turn and pick up my pace, needing out. I feel like I’m caged and trapped in a cell of my own making. The only problem is I don’t know how to get free of it.

“Yes, though I never understood why you lot preferred the mortal names over your given Demonic ones,” Jesthren mutters as he rushes to keep up with me.

“We have sacrificed more for those mortal names than the others. Names hold power. The more you have, the stronger you will become. You would know that if you left Veripellis more often,” I growl, both loving and hating the name Razar. It’s the name I have accomplished more tasks and growth with, but it’s also the name that has brought me the most pain. My twin’s death, or rather resurrection, has hit me square in the chest, and I fear how much more I will have to endure to keep this name.

A pair of bright green eyes, full of light and laughter, flash through my mind, and I grind my sharpening teeth together, furious that she’s even a thought right now. I need to concentrate on Archer and figure out what the hell is going on. Instead, I’m fuming and feeling sick about the red mark on her wrist.

“She holds the mark of Inanis,” I grind out, trying and failing to keep my claws sheathed at the mention of the devil’s name. They rip through my skin, and I can feel drops of blood drip onto the floor as I stomp down the main staircase toward the big double doors of the castle.

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