Page 34 of The Chosen Son

“You’re no fun,” I grumbled as I stomped petulantly toward the door.

That seemed to strike a nerve, because Cameron sat up and shouted, “Fun? Did you just sayfun?!” He rolled off the bed and stormed over to the bars, shoving his arm through to poke me once in the chest. “How can you possibly think toying with people isfun? What joy can you possibly get out of holding me here?”

“You being here has nothing to do with joy,” I growled, snapping my teeth close to the bars, leaning down to put my face just inches from his. “You are here in the name of revenge, nothing more. You are going to give me your power, and then I’m going to go send Loki straight to Hell. Only then will I let you go.”

He laughed—actually fucking laughed! “You’re not so different from Loki, you know. You claim to hate him, but I think you must idolize him. You want to be just. Like. Him.” He punctuated the last words by reaching up and tapping my nose, and I felt that tiny touch all the way to my toes.

I tried to slap his hand away, but I wasn’t fast enough. “I am nothing like him!” I snapped, seeing red.

I could feel my pulse behind my eyes, but Cameron didn’t even flinch. “I’m just calling it like I see it. You’re both callous, self-centered assholes who think everyone else is beneath you.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” I spat, even as his words hit home.

He shrugged. “I know that you’ve been kidnapping shifters in order to suck out their power because you’re too weak. Oh yes, Phobos told me all about it. Innocent men, women, and children. And for what? Petty revenge, all because you couldn’t keep your lover satisfied and he decided to give Loki a ride.”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, nostrils flaring, my chest pressed right up against the bars.

His lip curled in a sneer. “I’d only fuck you in your dreams, and even then, you probably couldn’t make me cum.”

I roared in his face, blood pressure spiking. I wanted to reach through the bars and wrap my hands around his neck, squeezing until I felt the bones turn to dust beneath my fingers. I wanted to shake him, throttle him until he begged for me to stop, then I wanted to flip him over and fuck him so hard that he was ruined for all other men. I would make him eat his words.

And that was why I turned and fled, fists clenched at my sides, slamming the door behind me. If I didn’t put some distance between us, I was going to kill that little shit and ruin all my carefully laid plans.

I stalked through the tunnels at random, but no matter how far I got, I swore I could still hear his mocking laughter. I wanted to believe I was a higher being, stronger and smarter than mere mortals, better in every way, but if that were true, then so was everything else he’d said.

The tunnels grew darker as I moved farther from the lair. My heart rate slowed, my temper cooled, and still his words echoed in the recesses of my mind. It wasn’t until my growling stomach echoed off the concrete that I finally headed back.

“I’m nothing like fucking Loki,” I grumbled, digging through the fridge for something to fill the gnawing emptiness inside me, butnothing appealed. This wasn’t just hunger; it was something…more. Something black and oily that stuck to my ribs. The feeling had no name that I could identify, but I didn’t like it.

Popping red grapes into my mouth one by one, I paced the length of the kitchen. In my mind, there were two options here: I could pretend what Cameron had said didn’t bother me, ignore him and move on.OrI could show him what it really meant to be the bad guy.

A strange thrill of nerves twisted my stomach. “Zeek!” I bellowed, abandoning the food on the counter. “Zeek, get in here!” If Cameron wanted a villain, I would give him one.

I heard the patter of Zeek’s shoes as he scurried to my beck and call. He looked clammy and pasty as he lumbered through the door. He bowed low. “You called, most masterful master?”

“I’mhungry, Zeek,” I said darkly, anticipation turning my mouth bone-dry.

He blinked once, then his translucent inner eyelid slid across from the side in an eerie second blink. “Oh… would you like me to make you something? Perhaps an omelet or—”

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I’m not hungry for food, you idiot. I want the shifters. All of them. Go prepare them for me.”

“Yes, yes, of course, my lord,” he panted, bowing again as he backed out the door before skittering away down the tunnel.

Cameron thought I was such a bad guy, but so far, I’d been nothing but merciful when it came to the shifters. I never took more than they could recover from, and I always wiped their memories of anything that could be considered traumatic. Well, no more! I would suck those aberrations dry like a juice box, and I would make sure they felt every single second of it.

Pure bullheaded stubbornness drove me, as vile and bitter as toxic waste. As I marched down to the holding cells, I told myself this waswhat needed to be done. Sure, even their collective power would be nothing more than a drop in the bucket compared to what I could get from Cameron. It was the equivalent of a morning cup of coffee for a pick-me-up, compared to a uranium rod in a nuclear powerplant, but that wasn’t the point. I was sending a message.

But as I turned the corner, I found myself faced with a row of a dozen shifters on their knees, hands cuffed behind their backs, some cowering, some defiant. If I truly wanted to, I could fill this room with the stink of fear, a miasma so toxic they would choke on it, but… innocent or not, this was not the battlefield. These men had not chosen this, I had. And I’d seen enough fear for a thousand lifetimes. I felt my resolve waver.

They weren’t all so innocent as Cameron wanted to believe, I told myself. Some of these shifters were liars or cheaters, abusers or manipulators, villains in their own right. Maybe the world would be better off without them.

I could be considered a hero for making the world a better place. Wouldn’tthatshow Cameron, I thought with snide humor.

I met the fierce glowing amber eyes of a raccoon shifter halfway down the line, his clenched jaw raised, and I respected his show of bravery. But it was the tear-stained cheeks of a young hedgehog shifter that really struck me. Her eyes were downcast, her sniffles loud in the enclosed space, even over the growls of predators.

“They are r-ready for you, master,” Zeek whimpered, shifting uneasily. Was it just me or did even Zeek seem nervous? A literal demon was uncomfortable with the idea of harming these shifters! Now I felt like a real monster. But wasn’t that what I was trying to prove? That I could be the ultimate supervillain?

I sauntered over to the hedgehog, her skin pale and lank hair creating a curtain around her face. I crouched down and reached for her,and she flinched away, as if trying desperately to curl in on herself, a pointless act in her human form. I shushed her gently and trailed the tip of my finger along her smooth cheek, collecting a salty tear.

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