I expected her to cower.
Arabella rolled her eyes.
A blue curl tickled the side of my arm.
The tangle of long turquoise hair fell in ringlets down to her butt. It disgusted me. I’d always preferred silky-smooth hair like Orion’s or Scorpius’s. Hers was a curly mess.
She said softly, “I have no idea what song you’re talking about. I’ve done nothing wrong. Unlike you three.” She scrunched up her sloped nose. “Stop trying to scare me. It won’t work. You’ve already set me on fire, and trust me, I’ve experienced worse.”
I snorted at her audacity.
She should be fucking terrified.
Also, her face had melted. There was no feasible way she’d experienced worse.
She smiled. “If you’re going to threaten me, at least make it creative. Burning me on a spike in front of your little house is very cliché.”
“I wasn’t joking.” I leaned closer and inhaled her icy scent. It burned. “And I’m being serious. Don’t worry, it’s not a little house. It’s an estate with plenty of land surrounding it. No one will ever hear you scream.”
Arabella harrumphed and studied her cuticles like my body wasn’t flush against hers. Like I wasn’t pinning her to the wall.
Her tone dripped with arrogance. “I grew up in a palace. Trust me, I’m sure it would seem like a small house to me.”
I breathed in roughly.
She waved her hand dismissively. “No need to be embarrassed. It’s not your fault that you’re ugly and poor.”
Rage.
I’d crush her into little pieces.
Then light them on fire.
I’d show her what it meant to be an Ignis. What it meant to play with people’s souls.
Why I was a devil king.
A monster.
Chapter 2
Corvus Malum
CONSEQUENCES
The beginning: Shackles—Day 1, hour 0
Flames crackled louder as I struggled with control.
Arabella eyed my fire with disgust.
“Men are so unwell.” She pushed against my chest.
I took a step back, glad to put space between us. She repulsed me.
She rubbed at the large bruises beneath her eyes. The glass cuts on her face had healed and were fading, but dark circles remained. The coloring was stark against her pale skin.
Yet again, I couldn’t help but compare Arabella to her male disguise.
As a boy, she’d been skinny with a wide frame that promised to fill out with enough exercise and food. Arabella’s frame was much narrower. She was covered in lean muscles, but barely had any shoulders.
The girl would never be a warrior.
My top lip curled as I remembered how she’d struggled in training and battles.
Female devils were never allowed in combat or war for that very reason. They could wield fire swords, but they were weak and abhorred violence, so they never used their abilities.
Women crumpled in violent situations.
They needed constant attention and pampering or they’d refuse to function. They were useless for anything but child-rearing, which happened infrequently for devils. Most of the time they just lazed about.
My jaw cracked with disgust and I fisted my hands.
While Scorpius and Orion silently waited for me to regain control, they touched my arms to offer comfort.
It didn’t work.
The past and the present were converging.
My biological father and his mates had died when I was a baby, and I’d never known my mother. She’d been nothing but a whore who’d been paid lavishly to breed and raise me. She had deceived my fathers and immediately abandoned me.
Arabella was just like her. Lazy and pampered, she’d deceived us to get what she wanted.
Sweat poured down my face and the temperature in the room’s corner spiked.
Arabella pulled out the neck of her oversized sweatshirt to cool herself.
When she tugged the material away from her skin, I saw straight down her chest.
Abruptly, I was parched, and it had nothing to do with the flames pouring off me.
I stared at the small swell of her breasts.
I licked my lips.
What the fuck.
I tore my eyes away.
It was because she used to have a male’s chest; that was why I was looking. It was pure curiosity.
Nothing else.
No other reason.
I worked my jaw back and forth until I regained enough control to speak without scorching her.
“You’re disgusting,” I growled.
There was a long pause as my words seemed to echo between us.
Arabella sighed deeply.
She nodded like she’d come to a decision.
She looked me straight in the eyes and smiled. “What was it Lothaire said? You can’t find your mate anywhere in the realms. That’s too bad.” She smiled wider. “It must suck to be you.”
I didn’t think. I reacted.
I lunged forward.
I needed her to be afraid.
The closest I got to satisfaction was exerting myself over a willing woman. I’d used men before, but their compliance wasn’t as sweet. A humiliated woman temporarily gave me the illusion of control.
It helped fill the hole of our missing mate. Marginally.
Even now, as I towered above Arabella, shedding flames, she refused to cower before me. She refused to give me what I needed.
I’d hated Aran for his weakness and his secrets, but I loathed Arabella with every ounce of my being.
She smirked. “I hope you never find your mate.”
That was it.
I was going to burn her.
Flames shot forward.
Orion yanked me away from the most worthless creature in all the realms. My fire just barely missed her.
He pulled me back to the center of the room. Away from her.
Scorpius stepped towards the bitch as my Revered dragged me away.
I immediately stopped struggling.
I would never hurt my Revered. Ever. It was the foundational tenant of my existence.
We’d almost lost Orion during the competition to become kings, and I’d never known such soul-rending torment. Scorpius and I could not function.
All we could do was stand vigil over his healing body. Ignises and Protectors were extremely defensive and territorial of their Revered. But what we’d experienced had gone beyond that.
It was called bond sickness.
Just thinking about it made me break out in a cold sweat, and I pressed myself against Orion as he held me.
Bond sickness occurred if a Revered was exposed to unimaginable pain.
When an Ignis and Protectors failed their mate, the bond became corrupted to ensure this wrong never happened again. We’d learned you didn’t need a full soul bond to experience sickness.
The unfinished bond between us hadn’t let us eat or sleep. It had punished us, and we’d gladly accepted the pain.
When Orion had finally awakened, Scorpius and I had openly wept with relief.
Fresh pain and regret squeezed my heart, but I focused on the man pressed against me.
Your Revered is healthy, I reminded myself as I let him pull me away.
Scorpius leaned toward the bitch and whispered all the painful ways she’d die.
My Protector didn’t need to touch people to hurt them.
Scorpius used words to tear people apart, and by the time he got around to physical violence, they were already broken.
Words were his favorite form of pain. He wielded every word with surgical exactness. He was purposeful. Meanwhile, she threw sentences around haphazardly, like grenades.