His father’s keep was even worse than Gabriel remembered.
The stench of fear and oppression hung heavy in the air, and the long, stone hallway lit by candles in sconces made out of the hollowed-out skulls of enemies his father had defeated in battle was not what anyone would call cozy.
The fact that he was currently being dragged in by five heavily armed guards wasn’t much of a welcome home message, either.
He’d put up a good fight when the guards found him. And there was a small part of him that was pleased his father had sent so many of them to bring him in.
At least forty highly trained demons who were unfailingly loyal to his father had shown up to escort him to their leader. He could’ve gone quietly and saved himself a beating.
But that just wasn’t his style.
He’d thrown everything he had those guards. Only the five dragging him in by his broken arm and two broken legs were still alive to tell the tale.
And they didn’t look any better than he did.
He manfully held in a pained groan when the guards dumped him in the middle of the throne room.
And that wasn’t a metaphor for anything. It literally was a throne room. In this case, the throne was made out of leather and hounds’ teeth, but it was a throne, nonetheless.
One of the guards gave him a swift, hard kick to the stomach before leaning down and hissing, “Welcome back, traitor.”
“Did your wife miss me while I was gone, Cason?” he said, doing his best to roll to a sitting position. Not an easy accomplishment with all the broken bones, but it was better than curling up on the floor in the fetal position and waiting to die.
Gabriel braced for the killing blow when Cason growled and moved toward him, but it never came.
“Cason, you’re dismissed. The rest of you, as well. Leave us.”
The guards turned on their boot heels and left the throne room, and Gabriel was alone with his father for the first time in…he had no idea how long.
However long it was, though, it wasn’t enough.
Even Gabriel had to admit the old man looked good. Demons had all been blessed with exceptionally good genes (all the better to lure unsuspecting prey with), but his father was in a league all his own.
Zayne Malek looked like he belonged in this place. From his shiny, battle-ready-at-all-times leather pants and impossibly white shirt (his enemies’ blood would show up on it well and he’d wear it proudly), to the toes of his shiny black boots, he was every inch a warrior king.
His black hair was a little longer than Gabriel had ever seen it, and peppered liberally with silver strands. It nearly touched his shoulders, but not a single piece was out of place. And while a smirk twisted one corner of his mouth up, there was not even a hint of humor in his black eyes.
Anyone else would think him indifferent. Gabriel knew better.
His father was furious. And when Zayne Malek was furious, it was already too late to run.
“You have no greeting for your father, boy?” Zayne asked, his tone dangerously low.
Gabriel somehow managed to roll to his knees, ignoring the screaming agony in his legs. He’d be damned if he was going to let his father know how he was feeling. Then he spit a mouthful of blood at those shiny boots and took a certain grim satisfaction as Zayne barely fought back a recoil.
“No,” Gabriel said, making sure his tone matched Zayne’s. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
Zayne’s smirk grew. “You’re even more defiant now than you were when I threw you out of this dimension. So, if you’re not here to make amends, why did you come back?”
Gabriel kept his mouth shut. No good ever came from giving Zayne information. The man had an uncanny ability to turn even innocuous facts against him.
But his silence didn’t keep Zayne from guessing. “I’m assuming your brother’s disappearance had something to do with this,” he said. “Frankly, I’m not surprised that you’re here and he isn’t. He’s been even more disappointing than you when it comes to following my orders.”
Gabriel couldn’t hold back a derisive snort. “So, I’m supposed to believe you didn’t send him after me?”
Zayne knelt in front of him so that they were eye to eye. “Child, I haven’t thought of you in years. I have no reason to send anyone after you, let alone the only demon left in my court who can open a rift between this dimension and the next. You’re nothing to me.”
“Then why am I not in a dungeon—or better yet, dead?”
He chuckled. “I only kill enemies who are a danger to me. You’ve proven yourself to be as harmless as a toddler. And I only keep those I feel the need to punish in my dungeons. You’re not even worthy of a spot there.”
Gabriel wanted to give him a what-the-hell gesture, but his broken arm wanted no part of that, so he settled for asking, “So, I’m not a dangerous enemy, and I’m not good enough to torture in the dungeon. If that’s all true, why are you bothering to talk to me at all? Because honestly, we could’ve just skipped this little chat—touching as the whole father-son reunion is.”
His father laughed out loud at that, and the cold sound of it chilled Gabriel to the bone. “Oh, dear boy, you do amuse me. That dimension you’ve been hiding in has made you soft. Weak. All you’re good for now is pretty, pretty bait. And in that capacity, you’ll do nicely.”
Oh, how he really didn’t want to ask. But he couldn’t stop himself. “Bait for what?”
“Not what. Whom.” Zayne smiled wide. “Did you really think you could pour demon energy into a human/vampire hybrid with psychic and empathic abilities—here, in my own home—without me knowing about it?”
Gabriel’s stomach turned at the thought of his father anywhere near Adrianne. He would not let the bastard see his fear, though. So, he gave him the coldest smile he could muster and said, “You just told me you lost your last demon who could open a rift. And she’s long gone, safe at home. You can’t touch her.”
“I may not have anyone who can open a rift, but I still have seers.”
Gabriel’s battered ribs protested the deep breath he sucked in. “There’s no way she’s coming back here,” he said, praying like hell he was right. “Your seers are wrong.”
Zayne gave him a pout of mock sympathy. “I think you underestimate your appeal, bait. She’s coming for you. And when she does, she’ll be mine. And when she’s mine, she’ll give me many fine, strong sons who won’t turn out to be the bitter disappointments that you and your brother were.”
“Over my dead body,” he said through gritted teeth.
“That’s the whole point, my boy. That’s the whole point.”