Cole’s feet thudded against the floor as he strode down the hall and past the beasts. Hatred swelled in him as he sneered at the massive creatures, but none of them paid any attention to him as he stalked past.
With every step he took, his claws dug deeper into his palm while his other hand carried the dragon’s head. If he didn’t have this self-inflicted injury to keep him grounded in this form, Cole would transform completely, and if he did, he would go back for the Lord, and he would die.
Lexi! Thoughts of her helped to keep him grounded more than the pain, and for a second, the faint scent of strawberries pushed aside the coppery stench of the blood coating him.
The messenger still waited by the doors, and when Cole walked through them, the warlock closed them with a click. When Cole’s head turned stiffly toward the man, he discovered the warlock staring at the wall with a blank expression on his face.
Do not kill him. But it was so tempting.
His claws scraped against the bones in his hand as he compelled himself to keep walking. He didn’t look back as he strode to the front door. A servant opened it for him, and Cole walked outside.
The warm sun beat down on him, but he didn’t see anything as he descended the steps and stalked out of the palace courtyard. As if he were a homing pigeon returning home, he found the Gloaming portal and entered it.
Once inside the protective, black walls of the portal, he slid his parents’ rings from his pocket, put them in his mouth, and started running. He only made it three steps before the wolf took over.
His clothing ripped and fell away. His muscles and bones shifted and popped as he transformed into the beast he’d kept repressed for centuries. He threw the head of the dragon into the air and caught it in his jaws.
Over the years, he’d transformed only a handful of times, and all those times were before he turned thirty. He tried to become comfortable in the wolf’s skin during those times, but he hated the lack of control he experienced when the wolf was in charge.
The dark fae were known for their control and aloofness; nothing was controlled or reserved about the beast. It was wild, free, and ruled by the emotions the dark fae rarely displayed.
Now, he welcomed the loss of control as the wind whipped through his hair, and he was driven by an incessant compulsion to run faster. He couldn’t escape what happened in the hall, but some of his fury and sorrow eased as he gave himself over to the freedom of the wolf’s run.
Then he spotted a small glow at the end of the portal and emerged into the Gloaming. He didn’t slow or return to his fae form as he ran up and down hills, past homesteads, and through fields full of crops.
As a fae, he was aware of his senses, but not like when he was a wolf. The scent of blood permeated the air, but beneath it, he detected the earth's rich aroma, the fae wheat crops, and the crisp, night air. His vision was more acute as a wolf, and he spotted the tiny rodents darting back into the ground when he approached.
The sun had set, but the silvery radiance of the moons lit his way across an open field. His paws kicked up dirt that bounced off his back legs. The few fae who saw him cried out in surprise, but none knew it was him, and none dared to get in the way of a blood-drenched lycan.
He traversed miles, but he wasn't winded or tired when he arrived at the palace. Stopping outside the massive, metal gates, he closed his eyes as he willed himself to transform. It was more difficult than he’d anticipated; the wolf was reluctant to let go of its newfound freedom, but eventually the beast yielded.
Cole dropped the dragon head as his bones and joints popped back into place. He rose from all fours to stare at the closed gates. His hand heated as he wrapped it around the bars. Those bars recognized his touch, and when the lock sprang free, he opened the gate.
He lifted the dragon’s head and drove it onto one of the fence spikes. That head would make a lot of the dark fae think twice before challenging him.
He would not let anyone or anything stand in the way of avenging his father’s death. He glowered at the beast that slaughtered his father before turning away.
As he walked toward the towering palace half hidden in shadow, he removed the rings from under his tongue and slid his father’s band onto his ring finger. It was a perfect fit.
His mother’s ring barely made it to the knuckle of his pinky, but he fisted his hand to keep it securely in place there. The movement caused the dragon’s bite to pull taut, but he barely noticed the discomfort.
He didn’t care about his nudity as he strode through the empty courtyard, but he was glad no one was around to see the blood dripping from him. He wasn’t in control enough to answer questions.
He ascended the steps to the large, silver front doors with the four moons etched onto them. Before he reached the doors, one of them swung open to reveal Sindri standing inside the threshold.
The helot’s eyes ran over the blood, sliding down his flesh. Though Cole was barely in control of himself, he’d still managed to keep most of his ciphers hidden. Rage and sorrow could not erase centuries of discipline when it came to concealing the true depth of his power.
His father had drilled it into his head when he was only a young boy that no one could ever know the true number of ciphers on him, and no one did. Just as he didn’t know how many ciphers the other dark fae possessed, including his brothers and father.
Sindri’s eyes flickered behind him, and Cole saw understanding dawn in them a second before a cruel smile curved the man’s lips.
“We have missed you, milord,” he purred. “Where is your father?”
Sindri’s smug smile widened as it ran over Cole once more.
“Or am I looking at him?” Sindri inquired.
Cole’s claws extended, and with lightning speed, he sliced them across the helot’s throat. Sindri’s hands flew to his neck, and he staggered back as blood spilled from between his fingers. Cole didn’t hesitate before slicing into him again.
His next blow caused Sindri’s fingers to fall away; his throat opened enough to reveal his spine's white bone, and Cole seized it. Dawning horror and understanding bloomed in the helot’s gaze a second before Cole snapped the spine in half.
Sindri’s head hit the ground with a wet thud and rolled to settle at his feet. Cole stared at the unseeing eyes and parted mouth before bending to lift the head. He was rising when Sindri’s body hit the ground.
Grasping the helot by his ankle, Cole dragged the body over to the fence and gazed up at the lethal spikes on top. He turned the head to look out on the Gloaming before slamming it onto one of the points. The metal rod burst out the top of Sindri’s head.
He lifted the body next, turned it upside down, and plunged it onto another spike. The metal rod went all the way through Sindri’s body and erupted out the other end. Along with his intestines, Sindri’s testicles remained on top of the spike.
Stepping back, Cole examined the helot’s body as he contemplated his next move. The dark fae would fight his ascension, but he wouldn’t let it happen. He’d endure and survive the trials that killed many before his father, and he would become the king of the dark fae.
And once he was in charge, he didn’t care what it took, he would destroy the Lord of the Shadow Realms.
THE END