Page 3 of Stolen
Dagan answers, voice like grinding granite. “Then we die when the SoulTakers breach the gates, and it won’t matter, anyway.”
A heavy silence falls.
I break it, smiling with my inner Dragon showing himself through my eyes, always ready to play with his prey.
“Then we’d better hurry, brothers. It’s a race now. First one to bring home a human and get her to sayI love youwins the crown and rules the realm.”
“And what happens when your mortal figures out the game? What if she finds out the truth and leaves you? What then,Lord of Lies?” Thorne asks.
I grin. “You just answered that question yourself. I am the Lord of Illusion, I lie better than anyone save maybe Satan himself. She won’t know the truth. Not ever.”
The four of us rise, old magic shuddering through the stones beneath our feet.
This is either the beginning of a new age or the end of it all—of Nightfall, of everything.
“Only one of us can ascend,” Dagan begins.
“True, but all of us must try,” I reply, placing my hand between us, palm down.
“Then we agree. We will all try this mad plan of Alaric’s?” Kael asks with a wicked grin on his face.
Kael slaps his hand on mine, the strength in it echoes in the room.
His gesture is followed by Dagan, who claps his palm down on Kael’s.
We all look to the last of us who has yet to agree.
It’s Lord Thorne, of course. But he’s always been an ornery bastard.
“Well, why the fuck not? Can’t let this cocky prick have all the fun,” Thorne mutters, tossing his hand on top of ours.
None of us plan to fall.
None of us believe in fate.
But we’re going to try to cheat it anyway.
“May the best Lord win!”
Chapter1
Alaric
Earth Realm–TheCity Across the River
The human world stinks of metal and misery.
It’s like this messy, repulsive, delightful cacophony of smells, and sounds, and sights that could make even the hardest Demon shiver in fright—or glory. Depends, I suppose.
I love it here.
There’s something utterly intoxicating about the clutter of it all.
Neon signs flickering like dying stars, horns blaring, adding to the noise polluting the air, bodies packed too tight into streets slick with desperation, weeping with agony.
This realm is so noisy, so crowded—so alive. It almost drowns out the thrum of magic beneath my skin.
Almost. But not quite.
