The beginning: Shackles—Day 1, hour 0
Crack.
Flames exploded as we RJE’d back into Elite Academy, and the five of us returned to an empty classroom.
Orion staggered, and I held my precious mate upright. Scorpius rested his long fingers on the backs of both our necks tightly.
His nails dug into our skin.
I leaned into his familiar touch and tried to ignore the headache that throbbed in my temple.
In a few minutes, everything had changed.
My mates and I were now bound by enchanted tattoos to Aran.
No, Arabella.
The honorable House of Malum was bound to a lying, weak fae. A useless. Manipulative. Woman.
I swallowed thickly, and Scorpius’s nails stabbed harder against my flesh. “Breathe, Ignis,” he whispered softly against my ear.
I nodded to show him I was trying.
Flames licked across my shoulders and down my arms. The heat burned my veins, and sweat dripped down my jaw.
I felt feverish, like I always did when I was close to losing control.
My body vibrated from the sheer force of the power pounding through my veins.
It would be euphoric to release the flames. To raze the world and paint it red with fire.
But I couldn’t.
Sweat made my vision blurry.
“Focus on us,” Scorpius ordered. My Protector’s voice was hard as steel, and he left no room for argument.
His nails dug deeper into my flesh.
Orion leaned against me. His hand reached back and snaked underneath the corner of my sweatpants.
His fingers were icy compared to my warm skin.
I was burning up.
Scorpius pulled my neck back and pressed his cheek against mine. “Listen to my voice,” he demanded.
His fingers tightened, and I focused on the pain.
I let it ground me.
“You are in control,” he said firmly. “You rule the fire. It does not rule you.”
I tried to nod, but his grip was so tight that my head wouldn’t move. I licked sweat off my lips and repeated, “I am in control.”
Orion put more of his weight on me as he leaned back, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I breathed in his decadent, sweet scent. He smelled like danger with a sweet edge.
Like poisoned candy.
The pretty man in my arms was addicting.
My chest pounded erratically; I leaned my weight against Scorpius’s powerful figure. His impressive muscles easily supported me and Orion.
I was sandwiched between my mates.
My Revered was in my arms.
My Protector held me up.
Scorpius’s heartbeat pounded steadily against my back, and I closed my eyes and concentrated on matching the rhythm.
“Focus on my nails,” he whispered as he gripped my neck tighter. “Focus on your breath.”
I concentrated on the prick of pain.
Orion inhaled loudly, and I followed his lead. He exhaled with a whoosh. So did I.
His silky blond hair tickled my chin, and he tilted his head up.
Stunning, warm brown eyes looked up at me with concern, and his pouty lips parted. “You okay?” he mouthed.
A bead of sweat dripped off my chin onto his mouth.
His red tongue flashed out and licked it off.
Fuck. I swallowed thickly.
“Yeah, I am,” I said throatily as I stared at the lips of my Revered.
Since puberty, I’d always been interested in other people’s lips. Interest had turned into a full-blown obsession when I met Orion. The depraved things I wanted to do to him.
Scorpius’s fingers pushed my head forward, and I grinned because my Protector knew exactly what I needed. Hell, he knew me better than I knew myself.
I pressed my lips softly against Orion’s.
He tasted decadent.
I licked his mouth wantonly and enjoyed the salty-sweet taste. His pupils expanded until the warm brown was mostly black with desire.
Even though our mating bond wasn’t completed, I pressed my tongue harder into his mouth.
He melted against me and groaned.
I nipped at his tongue, grabbed his hips with flaming fingers, and pulled his firm ass back.
Orion mewled against me. I stabbed my tongue deeper into his mouth, and the faint trace of smoke made goose bumps explode across my neck.
My mind blacked out.
I kissed him deeper, like I was trying to consume him. The smoky taste mixed with his sweetness and short-circuited every rational thought I had. I needed to consume it. Inhale him.
Scorpius’s nails dug deeper as he pressed my neck forward and crushed my face harder against Orion’s.
My Protector’s cock was so hard I could feel it throbbing through both our sweatpants.
Scorpius was a sadomasochist, after all.
I groaned with frustration.
And nothing hurt worse than being close to something you wanted but knowing you couldn’t have it.
The familiar uneasy feeling washed through me, and Scorpius wrenched my head away. Orion rubbed at his chest as if he could physically push away the sensation.
The three of us panted loudly in the quiet.
Scorpius pulled away, and Orion took a step forward, putting space between us.
Stunning brown eyes looked up at me, then shuttered with devastation. Fingernails trembled against the back of my neck.
He looked at me with concern.
“I’m fine,” I said gruffly.
Flames danced across my arms, but the feverish feeling was gone. All that remained was the queasy, unsettling feeling that occurred when we got too close to one another.
My Revered couldn’t meet my eyes.
My Protector couldn’t stop digging his nails into my skin.
I was their Ignis, and I was failing them.
We were damned men.
Three mated devils who couldn’t complete their soul bond because they were missing their fourth mate.
Until we found our other Protector, we couldn’t touch one another like we wanted. Like we needed.
I raked my hand roughly across my buzzed skull and breathed deeply.
Pushed my shoulders back.
Widened my stance.
For the first time since we’d returned from getting the tattoo, I took in my surroundings.
We were standing in the middle aisle of Lothaire’s classroom.
The vampyre was standing at the window. He stared out with unseeing eyes and looked more like a ghost than a man.
“Wow, what a kiss,” a feminine voice said from the far corner of the room. “That was, just wow. No words. Very intense.” There was a low whistling sound as she blew out smoke.
I ignored her.
Bloodred rays refracted through the room’s stained-glass windows that formed a mosaic of rolling fields.
The peaceful imagery mocked me.
Lothaire whirled around and kicked a desk chair. It exploded into scraps of metal as it slammed against the wall.
None of us flinched.
We were used to his violence.
Lothaire pulled at his scalp and stalked over to his desk while muttering about a guardian and righteous path under his breath. He threw papers around like he was searching for something.
He muttered frantically about secrets.
He was losing it.
“Why do you guys have sex with other people if you’re so into each other?” the feminine voice asked.
I gritted my teeth and pretended that she didn’t exist.
She said louder, “Seems kind of disloyal.”
I concentrated on the hush of the dusty classroom. The perverse sense of tranquility that accompanied the quiet.
Dust particles floated in the stillness, and the red rays of the eclipse made everything glow like it was dipped in blood.
Like we were all drenched in it.
“Personally, I wouldn’t be getting with other people.” She sucked loudly on her pipe. “But that’s just me.”
The calmness I’d experienced while embracing my mates disappeared.
My control snapped.
I said in a menacing tone, “Don’t you fucking dare speak to us.”
I pushed my men behind me protectively as I glared over at Arabella.
She rolled her eyes and turned to the side, like she was trying to make it clear that she was now ignoring me.
Ruby-red lips parted and slowly blew out a cloud of smoke.
A tortured growl escaped my throat at her haughty expression, and flames trailed across my arms.
She arched her brow as she stared at her pipe, then her body sagged. Dainty fingers rubbed tiredly at her forehead and dragged across delicately arched cheekbones. Cuts littered her skin from Lothaire throwing her into the window before she revealed her identity.
Her flesh slowly knit back together and healed before my eyes.
I hated Aran, but I preferred him to the creature in front of me. The pathetic woman.
She was a fucking joke.
Everything about Arabella—the too-pretty face; delicate bone structure; long, curly blue hair—was proof that Aran had never existed.
She had put everyone at risk with her masquerade.
We trained and fought together in life-or-death situations. Our unit was only as strong as our weakest soldier, and in the heat of battle, trust in one another was sometimes all we had.
She’d betrayed us all.
Behind me, my blind mate asked, “What is she doing? Is the slave gloating?”
“No,” Orion whispered quietly to Scorpius. “She’s smoking and looking at her pipe like she’s bored. Now she’s yawning. She looks sad.”
My mates stepped forward and flanked me.
Scorpius glowered. Malice radiated off him like he disagreed with Orion’s assessment. So did I.
In contrast, my gentle mate stared at Arabella with wide eyes.
Orion’s mind worked differently from others. He was obsessive.
Where others showed interest, he fixated.
He stalked.
We’d met Orion when he was standing over us in the middle of the night, watching us sleep. Even after we’d all realized we were mates, he’d still break into our rooms to spy on us.
Unfortunately, he was showing the same signs of obsession with the lying bitch.
His eyes were wide. He stared across the room at her without blinking.
Since he was our Revered, it was my duty as Ignis and Scorpius’s as Protector to keep him safe. The problem was that we were missing our other Protector.
From the way he was watching her, we needed the help.
“Are you sure she’s not gloating about deceiving us?” Scorpius sneered. “She probably loves that she had us all fooled thinking she was a guy.”
Orion kept staring at her without blinking, and he whispered, “She looks exhausted and worn out. Like she’s in pain.”
I snorted. She looked like a stuck-up, lying brat.
From the revulsion on Scorpius’s face, he agreed with me. He could hear and sense things others couldn’t, and his natural distrust of people made him smart.
After all, people in general were pathetic. They were a means to an end.
Scorpius liked their pain.
I liked their submission.
Orion didn’t care about anyone. Until he did. Then things got dangerous.
Across the quiet classroom, Arabella glanced over at us and scoffed.
Flames burned hotter.
My muscles ached from the strain of holding back fire, and I breathed slowly.
Sometimes it felt like the fire controlled me.
I’d never known a single day of peace.
How dare she smoke casually and act unbothered like she hadn’t ruined our lives? How dare she scoff at me?
Lothaire muttered about Dick and a grand plan under his breath. He was lost in his own world.
I used his distraction and stalked over to the corner. My mates followed.
As we neared, I glanced down.
Arabella’s sweatpants were still askew on her hips and showed off a hint of a tattooed chain.
A horrible reminder.
We were tied together.
When we stood a foot away, she glanced up at me with her bloodshot eyes. They were rimmed in dark circles.
She was weak and pathetic.
“Don’t talk to me,” she muttered haughtily, then looked away.
I snapped back, “Don’t tell me what to do, bitch.”
She gritted her teeth and stared at the wall. “I told you not to talk.”
I saw red.
As I sneered down at the worthless woman before me, the broken pieces of my existence played before my eyes like a nightmare.
The circumstances of how we’d gotten into this position were grim.
Everything had fallen apart so quickly.
The sun god had announced a tournament, and all quads of male devils eighteen and older had been required to enter. He would judge our power and name his kings.
We’d tried to get out of competing because we were missing our fourth mate. Our mate bond wasn’t completed; it couldn’t be until an act of intimacy occurred among all mates.
The sun god’s representative had denied our request and ordered us to compete.
Maybe he’d known.
We’d been the youngest competitors by centuries.
The other devils had laughed when we’d entered the registration room. They’d quickly stopped laughing.
The contest had been a massacre.
Our massacre.
We’d walked into the competition, not knowing the limits of our abilities.
When we’d left, we still hadn’t found them.
The power in our veins wasn’t the stuff of legends; it was the stuff of nightmares.
When the god’s representative had crowned us kings, he’d said, “Good does not balance evil in the realms; devil kings do.”
The sun god had named us his executioners. We were the merciless nightmares of a god’s will.
So much power.
So much responsibility.
Yet we were young, missing our mate, and living in pain.
All devils had been ordered by the sun god to attend our coronation, but as we’d stood before the crowd, no mating song had reached out to us. Our fourth hadn’t been there.
Which meant our missing mate was somewhere in another realm.
Technically, ancient texts on mate bonds stated that any species or person could be fated to a male devil. However, in recent history, only male devils had been powerful enough to sustain a bond. We were a strong species. Second to none.
I’d argued with the representative that the sun god should just locate our mate in the realms. He’d laughed in my face and said that wasn’t how fate worked.
I ground my teeth at the memory.
The academy was our best bet at finding our missing mate. That’s what the representative claimed and why we’d agreed to Lothaire’s stupid plan.
They were all full of shit.
In the ten years we’d been training with Lothaire, he’d only found four male devils living in other realms, and none of them were our mates.
Our mating song hadn’t reacted to them.
When Scorpius, Orion, and I had first met, our fires had sung to one another.
It was a low, heady beat: it resembled the pounding of a drum, the crunch of knuckles against flesh, and the thrumming of a violent heart. Whenever I was around either of them, the song got louder.
Our mate song was fierce like us.
Now Arabella’s worthless life was tied to my precious mates.
It was nauseating.
In exchange for tying our lives to his daughter, Lothaire had agreed to use his network and let us stay at the academy until we found our missing mate. The one who would make our fire sing.
I never would have agreed if I’d known who it was.
Releasing my deep breath, I took another step closer.
“Stop crowding my space. Go away,” Arabella huffed as she slumped low and blew a cloud of smoke out her lips. The whistling noise was unnaturally loud in the quiet classroom.
I opened my mouth to retort, and stopped.
Froze.
I gasped as I realized what was setting my teeth on edge.
No.
Everything had happened so quickly. We’d been so distracted by Arabella’s revelations and getting tattooed that we’d somehow missed the obvious.
Our mating song didn’t sing like it usually did.
It was gone.
The classroom was unnaturally quiet. The only sound was Lothaire mumbling under his breath and shuffling papers.
What the fuck.
Terror rose thick in my throat, and I tried to calm my racing heart. Had the slave tattoo fucked up our mating bond? Had we damned ourselves? Would we never know peace?
Lothaire had assured us there were no side effects other than combining our life forces. He’d lied. Was she in on it? Had it been her plan all along?
I listened desperately, but the quiet was loud.
Stifling.
My knees wobbled, and I barely caught myself. The mate bond was more than just a song. I knew this.
It reflected our souls.
I closed my eyes and channeled inward.
I concentrated on the fire that burned in the main hearth of the House of Malum’s estate. It was symbolic of the strength of our mate bond. No matter where I was, I could commune with the hearth.
Our mating flame burned brightly.
Relief rushed through me.
It quickly turned to unease. The bright-scarlet flames didn’t jump and writhe to the usual pounding mating beat. Instead, they swayed slowly back and forth in silence, and streaks of light blue glimmered around them.
Any relief I’d felt dissipated like smoke because the slave tattoo had done something.
My hands shook as red streaked across my vision like splatters of freshly spilled blood.
I stared down at the bitch who’d messed with my mating bond.
She brought dishonor to us all.
“How dare you?” I breathed out quietly as I leaned toward her.
Bloodshot eyes blinked slowly as she inhaled smoke. Her expression was bored.
I repeated, “How fucking dare you?”
One dark-blue eyebrow arched upward as she chuckled softly, like the situation was funny. Air left her pouty lips in harsh rasps.
“I told you not to talk,” she whispered.
The surrounding air heated as flames crackled on my skin.
“You have no idea who you’ve messed with.” My low pitch was reminiscent of an animal’s growl.
Arabella acted blasé, but her neck pebbled in goose bumps.
A predator stood before her.
Only the most powerful devil families belonged to Houses, and I was the heir to the infamous House of Malum. An ancient family synonymous with power and pain.
I let her see it in my eyes.
A small shiver ran through her, and I smiled wider.
Subconsciously, she recognized she wasn’t standing in front of a normal man.
All devils could create swords of fire. But only a handful of extremely powerful men were born with soul fire.
These devils were viewed as godlike: the Ignises.
The House of Malum was a long line of these soul-fire wielders.
I was an Ignis, one of those godlike men.
Mate bonds were a unique soul tie that only formed around an Ignis. Our mates were fated to help us control our soul fire.
The devil mate structure was always the same: one Ignis, two Protectors, and one Revered.
Four powerful men.
One soul bond tying them together.
Protectors and Revered only manifested their abilities when they met their Ignis. Their powers were complementary to their Ignises and involved the manipulation of people. But each mating group had unique skills.
Everything depended on how the Ignis wielded the soul flame.
My father’s fire healed people who were sick.
As a result, his Revered could see sickness in the flame of a person’s soul.
One of his Protectors had a numbing touch so the healing fire wouldn’t hurt. His other Protector made people feel calm in his presence, so they weren’t afraid of the healing fire.
Father’s ability was beautiful. Envy and sadness expanded in my gut like it always did when I thought about him.
Turning away from the lying bitch, I concentrated on Orion’s stunning profile and not the horrible memories.
“It’s okay, I’m here for you,” Orion mouthed to me.
I tried to smile back at him, but I couldn’t.
Most people assumed an Ignis was at the center of a mate bond because they wielded the soul flame.
They were wrong.
The Ignis and Protectors devoted their lives to protecting their Revered.
A Revered’s ability was most crucial to the success of the Ignis wielding the soul flame, and unlike most male devils, Revereds were gentle by nature.
They were different, physically and mentally, from the other mates in the soul bond. In devil culture, they were worshipped.
A unicorn among monsters.
Their inherent goodness allowed the Ignis to wield the soul flame without becoming corrupted by the power.
Revereds were always creatures of extreme beauty.
Taking care of, pampering, and protecting a Revered gave the Ignis and the Protectors purpose. It also distracted them from the burden of their power.
Scorpius was my Protector.
Orion was my Revered.
I was their Ignis.
Arabella made a huffing sound and mumbled something about dramatic men under her breath.
All three of us were now linked to a liar.
Jaw trembling with rage, I turned away from my precious Revered and leaned close to her. “What have you done?” I whispered darkly.
If I spoke any louder, I’d bellow and tear her to pieces.
She picked at a scab on her lower lip and scoffed quietly, “nothing.” She didn’t even bother to give an excuse.
I lunged forward like I was going to hit her.
Arabella didn’t flinch.
Faced with my unholy rage, she ignored me. Greater men had pissed themselves in her position.
I rose to my full height.
At seven feet tall, I was used to towering over women. Arabella’s head came to the top of my chest, and it was disconcerting how close our faces were.
But I still had the height advantage.
My breath made her hair flutter as I bared my teeth. “Whatever you thought you’d gain from your deceit, think again. If I find out you’re purposefully messing with our mating song, I’ll destroy you. Violently. In ways you can’t even imagine.”
Scorpius gasped and Orion stumbled as they realized our mating song was missing.
Glancing over, I confirmed Lothaire was still distractedly going through his desk.
I took another step closer.
My chest pressed against hers.
And I dwarfed her with my muscles.
I smiled meanly. “I don’t care that he’s your father. No one will protect you from us. You won’t get away with playing us like you did Horace. We’ll treat you like the bitch you are. I vow on the great ancestors of the Devil House of Malum that if I find any evidence you’re purposefully fucking with our mate bond—” I pushed her back against the wall. “—you’ll be crucified on a stake in front of our home and set on fire for all of eternity. Your little slave brand will ensure you won’t die. I’ll make sure of it.”
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.
