Page 10 of Blaze

No, it’s not the voice that shocks me, but what it says. It speaks mynamein a voice so deep and authoritative that I move a few steps in its direction in spite of myself.

“Blaze. Come forward.”

I’m tempted to turn back, just to spite the thing, but again, I’m faced with the impossible scenario of fighting it in a narrow stone corridor. Facing it in the cave isn’t ideal, but trying to end it here would be worse. Strangely, it’s not snarling at me or charging my position. It actually sounds... well, it sounds a little put upon, if I were to describe the voice in human terms, as though my reticence is tiresome. To my surprise, I find a bundle of black cloth waiting for me near the entrance to the creature’s cave. The fabric probably started its life as a curtain or a bedsheet—it’s not as thick as I’d like, but it’s better than nothing. I unfold it and clumsily fashion a toga for myself before stepping into the room beyond to face the hellhound.

Except... it’s not a hellhound that’s waiting for me. It’s a man. A very tall, very nude man, with skin the color of a night sky. Like Ran, he’s wearing a manacle of some sort around his neck. Golden tribal markings swirl across his shoulders and down his biceps, a startling contrast against the darkness of his body and the only spot of color on him aside from the glowing vermillion embers that are his eyes. Those eyes are fixed on my face, tracking me with keen interest as I moved cautiously toward the center of the room. If he hadn’t lit a fire in the middle of this chamber, I wouldn’t have been able to distinguish him from any of the flickering shadows in time to keep him from leaping at me. But he doesn’t leap at me. Instead, he’s sitting cross-legged, hands at his sides, in a peaceful posture. Which makes no goddamn sense. Where did he come from?

“I smelled a hellhound. Did you chase it off?”

The man cracks a smile, exposing long, glistening white teeth. Verysharpteeth. Another jolt runs down my spine as a thought occurs to me.

No. Surely not.

“Iamthe hellhound, Chosen One. But you may call me King Axion. Sit. I think you’ll want to hear the proposition we have for you.”

CHAPTER SIX

AXION

The female eyes me with suspicion as she approaches the fire.

Her scent is acrid, tinged with a hint of fear. Not that I can blame her. I am a creature worthy of fear, and it’s rare to find someone who doesn’t cower in my presence—at least at first. But it isn’t just fear wafting off her skin. There’s anger too, a surprising amount of it. Ransom’s scent is thick on her skin, a sure sign they’ve coupled, but she isn’t glazed and distant, the way so many of his human bedmates are when he’s through with them. She’s lucid, if not a little shaky on her feet. Curious, and somewhat irritating. I’ve been counting on her senses being foggy enough that my proposition sounds somewhat reasonable. It’s a harder sell if she has all her wits about her.

Did Ransom deliberately dilute her pheromones to keep her this sharp? He’s been opposed to the plan since Maddox and I proposed it. I can’t say I didn’t have my reservations about it, as well, but a king has greater considerations than the well-being of one female. You can’t play fair when you’re fighting for the soul of your people.

“King, huh?” she replies, a fair amount of bravado in her tone. “Where’s the crown?”

I snort. “A circlet of metal and jewels to signify royal lineage. A ridiculous human tradition. I have the royal lineage on my skin, Chosen one.”

I gesture broadly at my markings, the clear indication of who I am. Ransom and Maddox have similar marks, though theirs are subtly altered to signify their purpose in the royal family. Ransom, who breeds the next generation. Maddox, the traveler and prophet. And me, born to rule. I forget sometimes that even humans who can use their eyes are blind to so many things.

The female makes a noncommittal noise and lowers herself to the ground, back tensed, as though she’s ready to rise onto her knees and lunge at me at the slightest provocation. (Blaze, I correct myself. Her name is Blaze. Humans despise being reduced to their sex it seems.) I like her all the more for that ferocity. This is the third time in as many months that we’ve tried to track down this Chosen, and it’s the first time she hasn’t eluded us. She’s fast, almost as fast as a hellhound running at full speed. She evenlookslike a hellhound female in a two-legged form if you can ignore the human eyes. It makes it a little easier to debase myself like this.Very little.

Blaze gives me an appraising look, scanning me from the crown of my head to my crossed legs, lingering longer on certain parts of my anatomy. It’s an effort not to preen when I scent her arousal on the air, faint but still there. My cock is even more impressive in my hound form, but she won’t appreciate it in the same manner. I stay very still, fighting the instinct to ride her to the ground and rut her. I’ve found her impressive since the moment I laid eyes on her outside one of Morningstar’s camps. Her fire burns hot and her determination still hotter. She’s similar enough to us that I can find her attractive, rather than off-putting.

“We didn’t know you were shifters,” she says at last.

“You’ve never bothered to know anything about us.”

If they had, they would have known that we despise Lycaon more fiercely than they do. If they’d bothered for one second to consider anything outside of themselves, more of my people could have been spared from the senseless slaughter. Lycaon and his people have used us as bargaining chips and fodder for their war for well over a decade now. If someone had bothered to talk rather than attack, perhaps we wouldn’t find ourselves in this unenviable position.

“You’ve slaughtered thousands of humans. Possibly tens of thousands, if you count the last war. I don’t feel inclined to learn much about creatures that have repeatedly tried to kill me.”

A snarl builds in my throat. Willful ignorance is something I can’t and won’t abide, even among my own people.

“You know who Lycaon is and what he’s capable of. Did it ever occur to you that we haven’t followed him by choice? That his magic may be greater than ours?”

That makes her pause, expression softening in confusion. Her head tilts to the side in a strangely canine fashion. Again, I’m seized by the absurd desire to reach across the space between us, draw her close, and take her to her knees.

“You... you’re not serving him of your own will?” she asks, eyeing me narrowly.

“He slaughters my people as easily as yours, throwing them under the wheels of his war machine. If I could, I would happily rip his throat out, but he has control of our patron goddess, Cyllene. The rest of us are much reduced without her. Only someone with power to match his can hope to deliver us from his clutches. Ransom, Maddox, and I have only recently learned how to slip his leash for even the briefest of time, and that’s thanks to you. Absorbing some of the power you’ve lobbed at us has given us our will back, but it won’t be enough. We need you with us as we retrieve the goddess. You, and another chosen. I believe they call her Queen Carmine.”

Blaze stiffens. “Ransom?”

“Yes.”

She frowns. “As in, Ran, for short? He’s... he’s one of you?”

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