Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Very quiet, he cautioned. Without waiting for Vasilisa’s assurance, he moved into the narrow opening. The guards stank of death and horror. They were flesh eaters, and when gladiators fought to the death in the arenas, they would leap out of the bleachers and tear apart the fallen to feast on them.
He knew Vasilisa saw the images in his mind. He needed her to know what kinds of horror her brother would be facing in the rings below. Lilith was really not happy with Andros to sentence him down here. The heat was stifling even to his spirit. The demon in him reached for the joys of the various arenas. He had battled in all of them—and had been the victor. Being the victor meant he lived. It also meant he had to live with the things he had done in order to survive.
Warmth spread through him. Not the terrible heat of the underworld, but a gentle healing warmth that spread to every cell in his brain and created a shield. His lady. Looking out for him. Letting him know he wasn’t alone in this hellhole. He didn’t have to face the torture or the memories alone. She was right there with him, and she didn’t intend to go away. He hadn’t known love or what it meant, but he was certain it was something very close to what he was experiencing with her.
The sound of those screaming in pain reached them as his spirit descended into the lowest rung, where the arenas of torture and death were. Immediately, he saw Andros with a long bullwhip in his hand. The whip appeared to be red-hot, sizzling with life—with burning flames. Each time he expertly brought the fire and flames down on the back of a demon, removing the skin and cauterizing the wound at the same time, those in the stands howled with glee.
Andros wore an expression of joyful cruelty, as if the demon side of him had taken over completely. Over the speakers played pounding music that sounded harsh and demanding. The music swelled in volume. Rappers began to demand the heads of the demons Andros had flayed with his fire whip. Soon the entire stadium was yelling for Andros to gut the demons and cut off their heads.
Afanasiv detested that he’d agreed to allow Vasilisa to come with him. Suddenly, the audience went silent as a young woman shuffled out. She wore the same tattered dress that Lada had been wearing. Her long hair hung down her back in a thick braid, and her arms were bare. She looked young—too young to be a widow with a child. Too young and beat up to be subjected to brutality for the demons’ entertainment, and yet Lada was there.
She stumbled into the center of the bloody ring, a sword and shield in her hands, although it appeared she had no idea what to do with them. Demons sat or lay on the ground, moaning and growling threats. She didn’t spare them so much as a glance. Once she spotted Andros, she didn’t look anywhere else. She had eyes only for him.
Another gate lifted and Grigor strode into the ring. He also carried a sword and shield. He looked worse for wear, but the bruises and knots on his skin didn’t appear to slow him down in the least. He went straight into the middle of the arena, stopping Lada’s forward stumbling.
Another gate opened and Karine was shoved in. She nearly fell but managed to stagger and recover. She looked around her, covered her mouth with the hand holding the shield, and then her gaze found Grigor. She gave an inarticulate cry and hurried across the floor of the arena toward Grigor. She didn’t seem to notice the fallen demons until one caught her ankle and tripped her.
Karine went down with a little choked cry. That cry galvanized the two royal brothers into action, both running toward Karine. Andros was closer and reached her first, his sword swinging in a giant arc. Lada followed him, shaking her head. Imploring him to stop.
The crowd erupted in a roar of approval.
PART THREE
CHAPTER
9
Dragonseeker. Afanasiv had skipped right over that information almost without acknowledging it. Vasilisa paced back and forth in the small confines of the cabin. He retained all the information he thought important in order to bring her brothers and their women out of the underworld. What he hadn’t done was pay attention to the fact that he was Dragonseeker. That blood ran in his veins. Why hadn’t they just taken his blood while they had him down in that disgusting, vile place? She should have asked that question.
If Lilith managed to get Dragonseeker blood, what could she do with it? Was it valuable to her? Or was only the physical person valuable to her? With so many Dragonseekers in one place, there had to be a reason. Something had drawn them all there at the same time. Vasilisa didn’t believe in coincidence, certainly not to that extent.