Page 57 of Immortal Throne

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Islipped away from the dining hall of Hell, leaving Chupey to his feast. After the adrenaline rush left me from the hot mess trial, and the sweat dried to leave my skin cold and clammy, my limbs grew heavy and my eyelids heavier.

Nap time.

My footsteps echoed down the empty hall illuminated by torches. My familiar was always most content with his face shoved in a dish of food, and it seemed selfish to drag him away just because I didn’t have much of an appetite. I’d forced the food past my lips because I knew the importance of fueling the body, but after I stomached the bare minimum, I wanted to leave. My mind kept replaying the last trial. Once again, I’d survived. I’d passed. I hadn’t sucked. But once again, my accomplishment dimmed in the shadow cast by this nasty fact I couldn’t deny. I’d survived because of Ryker.

Sure, I’d saved his ass, too, but I’d…needed…him. I’d never needed someone before. And the idea didn’t sit well with me. I hated this. I hated him. What kind of ruler did I hope to become if I couldn’t survive on my own? If I neededhim?

And what had Ryker planned to say when I told him about my diagnosis? He’d started to say one thing and then stopped, abruptly saying something else. Did he know something? What could he know that Chupey and Zane didn’t?

My hindsight prickled and I rubbed my neck trying to smooth the hair down.

“Mortal,” a deep voice growled behind me.

I spun around to find the giant blue bastard lurking in the hallway. Shirtless, his rippling muscles glistened under the flickering firelight. Thankfully, he wore a sort of leotard loincloth with fur to cover his man bits, but the guy was pretty much naked, and looked like the demons from nightmares. His hulking body took up almost the entire width of the hallway, and he easily stood over seven feet tall. Dried blood from his victims coated his forearms and flaked off his horns.

“Mobius.” I dipped my chin.

His eyes widened and he stalked forward.

That’s right, big boy. I know your name.

“You and I have some things to…discuss.” His red gaze remained focused on me, cold and detached.

A shiver ran up my spine and a memory of him locking eyes with me during the trials spiraled up in my mind. He’d wanted me dead then, and from the curl of his thin lips and clenched hands, he wanted me dead now.

“I have nothing to say to you, smurf.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’ll have to wait until the next trial to hash out your grievances. Attacking competitors in between trials is against the rules.”

Instead of stopping or appearing deterred by my words at all, he closed the distance between us, stopping only a couple of feet away. “You silly, vapid thing. You seem so confident standing here in this empty hallway spouting rules like they’ll protect you.”

“But…the rules...” I unfolded my arms, seeing the threat even if I didn’t quite understand it.

“They discourage cheating between the trials.” He leaned in. “But it’s not forbidden, and if a bitch dies in an empty hallway, and no one’s around to see it, who’s to say it was murder? Who’s to even look for someone to blame?”

A chill ran along my skin. I tried to peer over his shoulders, but they blocked out my view of the hallway. If I screamed, Chupey wouldn’t reach me from the dining room in time and what exactly could he do? Chupey might die trying to protect me and that was the last thing I wanted. My best chance at survival was to turn and run for my room.

My hindsight screeched at me, and I shifted to the side, narrowly avoiding a dagger to my middle.

Mobius snarled and threw his head to the side. His horn smashed into my face. Pain exploded in my skull, and I reeled backward. My head rang.

I’d been hit before, but not like that.

Blinking rapidly, I ducked under Mobius’ swinging backfist. Quickly, I jabbed out, swiveling my hips and throwing my weight behind the strike to his kidneys. One. Two.

Mobius growled and lashed out with his dagger. I jumped back, narrowly missing the tip. He might have a weapon. He might have a lot of muscles and power. But I was faster.

Darting in again, I struck at his throat.

Mobius’s eyes widened and he choked. His meaty hand flew up to his throat as he gasped for air. His other hand punched out, trying to drive the dagger into my stomach.

Bastard.

Anger welled up inside me and I let it out. A wave of magic blasted from me like a shockwave.

Mobius stood frozen, stunned.

Not one to show mercy, I took the opportunity to kick him in the balls as hard as I could. Most men expected women to attack their genitals first, easily deflecting an attack. The key was to wait. The key was to strike them somewhere else, distracting them from my true intent, and then use a well-placed kick or knee to the nads as a finishing move.

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