"Ryder." Ryder turned at the sound of his name being called. Michael appraised him, a deep crease of concern furrowing his brow. "You should eat something." He chided softly. For a moment Ryder seemed to not see him, to look blindly, but then Ryder shook his head - clearing it.
"I'm fine." His voice was gravelly.
He returned to staring out of the window at the distant horizon. Michael's gaze lowered, sliding over Ryder's exposed torso. Thick muscles hugged his broad shoulders, the skin was smooth and tanned and Michael had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it. His gaze lowered further to the perfect cup of Ryder's ass, neatly encased by tight, leather pants. Michael trembled with desire.
Oblivious to the scrutiny he was under, Ryder sighed heavily. He rested his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes. The shadow of his long lashes obscured his rough cheeks from the suns glare.
"What are you thinking?" Michael pressed, his breath caressing Ryder's exposed throat. Down below the crack of a whip was swiftly followed by a strangled cry. Ryder clenched his hands into tight, trembling fists.
"Leave me," his voice was gentle, soft as a leopard's purr, "I want to be alone."
*
Rain thundered down from the heavens. Ryder marched down the dirt track, muddy droplets sprayed up his legs from the pounding of his heavy boots. He broke into a run. The storm obscured his vision, and his sodden, unkempt hair plastered it to his rough skin. A fork of lightning stabbed the blackening sky, reflecting in his cold, grey eyes.
"He's not back yet?" Elle asked, moving silently across the room to stand at Michael's side.
"No," Michael's stare was morose. Elle frowned unhappily. She was a tiny creature, young but with thin, silvery hair.
"It's killing him," she mused softly, "trying not to love her."
"I hope she's dead." Michael spat, his fingers curling into fists. Elle winced, putting a trembling hand to her temple.
"He'll see her again," she announced suddenly, her voice had altered - taken on a deeper pitch. Michael's gaze snapped to her face.
"When?" He asked quickly, not doubting the truth of her words.
"Soon, very soon." Michael's face turned white.
"How can I prevent it?" His voice was low and hushed. Elle shook her head and sighed, her shoulders sagging.
"You can't," her voice had returned to normal, she swayed and would have fallen if not for Michael's steadying hand. "It's already too late."
*
Chloe was shoved through a set of large oak doors. She entered the castles entrance hall with a large grand staircase directly ahead of her. Guttering candles cast lengthy writhing shadows up the stone walls.
"You're part of Prince Naethro's household now. He brought you from the network." The woman leading her informed in an imperious tone. Chloe was guarded by a demon on either side - this woman had spoken with them in their language. Chloe glared at her suspiciously.
"The network?" They headed down a set of stone steps and Chloe had to concentrate on not falling. They'd secured her hands behind her back and her wrists chaffed miserably against their bonds.
"Your previous owners." The woman smiled, finding something amusing, "you were aware you were a contestant of Irrenhaus?" Chloe considered this before laughing bitterly.
"That hell - that was a fucking show?"
"Yes. It's very popular."
The woman led them down a shadowy corridor. The cold air fogged up around them. "You had good odds for winning you know."
Chloe lunged forward but was seized immediately by her demon guard. She struggled against them, glowering at the bitch ahead of her with utter hatred.
"How can you live - knowing that that fucking shit is happening to people?!"
The woman smiled at her.
"It's called intelligence and it helps me to survive."
The dungeons smelt foul and Chloe shivered against the cold. The demons picked her up and lay her down on a table in the centre of the chamber. Chloe flailed as they strapped her down. Job done they backed away - leaving her alone with the strange woman. Chloe's heart hammered in her chest and she took deep steadying breaths. The woman stood over her, arms raised with her palms facing upward - her eyes bright with excitement.
"This will hurt," she grinned evilly, "a lot." She threw her head back, closing her eyes and started humming. Chloe tensed. The humming was strange. It filled the air, dully throbbing around the ancient walls. Chloe arched her back and screamed. Fire erupted around her and through the rising smoke and fluttering embers Chloe writhed in agony. Her body became engulfed by thick threatening cloud. Flashes of white light sparked in bands of black cloud that rippled over her in a shroud. Chloe had become the eye of a storm and when she emerged she'd be someone new - yet also borrowed.
Prince Naethro was demon. He sat enthroned on a raised platform his long claws resting with threatening intent upon the arm rests. His red skin was nearly completely hidden by thick dark hair that grew thickest and wildest in a mane down his colossal back. His teeth were ferocious and gruesome, the two longest fangs verging on the size of tusks. His elbows were covered with teeth-like spikes too and his horns were curved to face forward, opposed to the pointed skyward ones of the rest of his kind.
The witch kneeled before him - forcing Chloe to do likewise. Chloe grimaced as witch and demon conversed in Naethro's unfamiliar mother tongue. Their conversation was halted suddenly by the entrance of a heavily pregnant woman. Everyone kneeled once more. Chloe gawped as the woman took a seat on Naethro's left side. The prince rested a clawed hand over her large belly. Chloe's eyes widened in horror.
"Don't look so frightened," Lady Delphine reproached in a thickly accented voice, "you are not worthy of this gift." Chloe's mouth went try. Imagining lying with that - that monster - her stomach turned in revulsion. She followed the witch's lead in backing out of the room. It was relief to escape.
"The prince is the most powerful of Wabyt's children." The witch informed her - her tone smug once they were out in the corridor. "Her favourite. He was powerful enough to get you out of Irrenhaus. Only one other shares his rank. Prince Ryder." Chloe's jaw clicked. Ryder - he'd turned the tide of the war crushing the worlds hope. "Ryder has something in his possession. Something Naethro desires."
"He wants me to get it? How?"
"Ryder has one known weakness. A woman. He's been searching for her with a sort of madness." Chloe pulled a face.
"If you think that's me you're crazy. I've never met him." The witch glowered at her - her patience thinning at Chloe's tone.
"Searches for her have proved unsuccessful - but..." she shoved Chloe in the direction of a large mirror. Chloe's lips parted in surprise. She reached up to touch the glass and recoiled. A strange, strangled cry escaped her lips and she ran her hands over her face and hair. She'd wondered what the witch's magic had done to her - now she knew. "You recognise it?"
"Lauren," Chloe's voice was weak, "you've made me look like Lauren Fox."
"That's why it had to be you. We can't have the original and you knew her best. Only you have hope of pretending to be her."
"You can't find her?" The witch waved her hands dismissively. Chloe breathed through her nose. That didn't mean she wasn't out there. "What makes you think I'll help you?"
"Use your brain. Serve Prince Naethro and you have his protection, even rewards. Defy him - who the fucks got your back. You're all alone." Chloe's gaze flickered back to her reflection. They'd taken her face. As if she were nothing - as if she didn't even matter - they'd just taken it away from her.
"What is it that the prince wants?"
The witch smiled, "wise choice."
*
"What is that?" Elle asked, pulling a face. They were in an old library. Ryder didn't look up from the dusty tome's pages.
"A history of the hunters." His voice was deep and ponderous but his eyes danced with excitement.
"You've found something about Lauren?" Elle moved around the table to stand at his side.
"It mentions here about their eyes," his traced the page with a long finger until he found the segment of particular interest, "their eyes glowed brilliant white - marking the Venator bloodline."
"Venator?"
Ryder looked up and met her gaze. The library's poor lighting cast his handsome face in long shadows.
"The royal family of the hunters." His finger agitatedly tapped the page. Elle's brows rose up.
"Lauren's...what a royal? But the rest of her family-"
"She was adopted - I'm sure of it." His hand curled into a fist. "What secrets were that family hiding?"
"And what does a hunter hunt exactly?"
The door was flung open - crashing against the wall. Ryder closed the book in an instant - his nostrils flaring angrily. Thorn charged toward them, skidding on the worn flagstones.
"What is it?" Ryder demanded impatiently.
"Lauren." Thorn's gaze was wild. Ryder's face drained of colour.
"What?"
"She's been caught by the slavers." Blue flame crackled in Ryder's finger tips. As he stormed from the room embers sparked and floated to the ground in his wake - like a trial of fallen stars.