Chapter 184: Chapter One

Timber

~Present Day, Seattle~

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde—one of the most realistic books ever written. It may as well be an autobiography.

I scratched my nails across the seed tattoo in the middle of my palm and winced when it pulsed back at me.

It had a heartbeat.

Two days ago, it started itching.

Two days ago, I dreamed of the goddess who cursed me.

Two days ago, I saw the goddess who had sworn to love me forever only to go back on her promise the minute the goddesses of earth were welcomed back into the realm.

It was coincidence.

It was concerning.

“Stop fidgeting.” Mason, my prickly werewolf colleague—he’d rather die than consider me a friend—was currently trying to cut it from my skin, and doing a shit job at it. “I think I have it.”

His nail dug into my palm deep.

So deep I had to grit my teeth. I knew it wouldn’t kill me, it was impossible for a demon to bleed out or really die unless they were sucked dry by another supernatural.

Mason would probably raise his hand first, followed by the rest of the remaining council.

Each of them had their reasons for despising me. Even though I was on their side, they would always see me as a demon.

One with a blue soul pulsing inside his body right alongside a very dangerous used one who never seemed to let me forget it.

I shoved the thought away and jerked as Mason pulled skin from my hand and then held it up in front of his face. “You did it?”

“I’m a werewolf. I can do anything,” he said smugly.

Searing pain stabbed my skin, running up and down my arm like tiny needles pressing into my flesh over and over again.

When I looked down…

The skin was back right along with the tattoo.

We both stared.

“Huh.” Mason stood. “Well we tried.”

“That’s it?” I roared. “We ~tried~?”

“You could always ask Ethan to bite it off.” he grinned.

“Yes. A vampire biting my palm sounds lovely. Where do I sign up?” I jumped to my feet and ran my healed hand over my blond, almost white, hair. That was the other problem.

Changing.

I felt like I was changing.

For one, my ever-present horns had completely disappeared.

I thought it was because my soul had been restored a year ago, because I had elf blood running through my veins compliments of a shady past and new friends I’d just made in the future, like Hope, the only remaining Elf princess, currently hitched to a male siren who I dreamed of killing on an hourly basis.

“Any luck?” A male voice that sounded like multiple orgasms and heat piped up, sweeping into the room.

I glared in Alex’s direction. “Speak of the devil.”

“I’m much better looking.” He grinned, his jet black hair had shots of orange in it today; it changed depending on his mood.

“Feeling horny are you?” I pointed to the orange streaks in his hair.

And got flipped off.

“Hope’s out with the girls… You know I don’t do well when I go without skin-to-skin contact for too long.”

“How sad for you…” I said, dripping with sarcasm, “You do know that some people go hours, days, weeks, and yes, years without sexual contact?”

Alex just looked at me with horror lining every pretty feature, and on cue, the plant near the door started to lean toward him and then it wilted.

Nature couldn’t help it.

I was more shocked that he’d mated in the first place.

I think everyone was.

A war was brewing. Then again, I’d been alive for thousands of years; a war was always brewing even in times of peace.

My head suddenly ached with thoughts I didn’t want, with memories that tasted like blood, and with images of kills I couldn’t forget.

I was born as the first of the demon race.

King.

Or so I’d thought—until the tattoo started itching, until I started seeing him, seeing them—so many Pharaohs, the sands of Egypt. See? Disconcerting.

Power surged beneath my skin, my fingertips buzzed with energy as I sidestepped Alex and made my way outside.

In a moment of complete insanity, I’d driven to Ethan’s house, where most of the council lived since it was protected by both vampires and werewolves, and asked for help.

And gotten Mason of all people, gruff, pinecone-eating, long-haired, recently married, Mason.

I stared up at the stars and wondered how many more lifetimes I would get the chance to stare, when a ticking time bomb was pulsing on my hand.

“Deep in thought, are you?” Came Cassius’ familiar voice. His purple feathers wrapped themselves around his massive body as he walked toward me like he wasn’t intimidating as hell.

Part archangel, part fallen, part, who the hell knew? He was the King of the immortals while Mason was King of the actual earth, the soil.

Alex, well he was the King of sex and himself and something else that none of us ever discussed because it was too painful to imagine how much power he had surging through his body.

Stephanie, mated to Cassius, was the last remaining true Dark One, a mixture of human and archangel with dangerous powers.

And a few weeks ago, we had discovered that Mason’s mate was part goddess.

Basically it was as if the supernatural world had shit all over us in the span of a year just to see what we would do when they changed the game.

Another shiver ran over me.

The goddess.

She’d said she wanted to be entertained.

Well, what else could she possibly want? We were a complete shit show now!

“My tattoo seems permanent,” I finally found myself saying as Cassius tucked his wings away until they disappeared into thin air like they were never there to begin with. “So that’s a fun development.”

“Fun.” Cassius grinned. He rarely grinned. I narrowed my eyes just waiting for a feather to drop from his body and incinerate anything near my feet.

“Don’t say fun, it sounds strange coming from someone who glares more than he smiles.”

“You should talk,” he fired back.

I sighed. “This again?”

“You’ve been different ever since Mason reclaimed his throne… you flew back to Seattle with your tail tucked between your legs—”

“Demons don’t have tails.”

“And you’ve been moping in that dark dungeon you call a house. Stephanie says she brings you food, you don’t eat. Mason offered to hunt for pinecones, I told him no.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Small favors.” Cassius folded his bulky arms across his chest. His pitch-black hair hung down his back, shining like the night sky. Blue eyes seemed to penetrate to my souls, both of them, the good and the bad. At least the good had tamped down the borrowed one. “It will be time to choose… soon, Timber.”

“Choose?” My eyebrows arched. “I hope you’re not under the assumption that because I’ve been helping the council that I need to mate like everyone else… I’m fine by myself. I like it that way.”

Lies. Lies. Lies.

I was so damn good at lying I scared myself.

Centuries of practice.

Something I shouldn’t be proud of but, meh, demon, cut me some slack.

“We all have journeys. Rarely are they easy,” he said cryptically. “You’ve been running away from yours for a long time.”

A vision of stumbling through the desert assaulted me before I shoved it away and snorted out a laugh. “This again? Look at me?” I spread my arms wide. “I’m the Demon King for shit’s sake. I’ve been alive longer than half the people in that house. I’ve murdered, I’ve stolen. Don’t for one second think that a little elf with the power to restore demonic souls saved me. I’m beyond saving.” I didn’t realize how much I meant it until I said it out loud.

A soul didn’t forgive sins of the past.

It only saved you from a damned future.

I hung my head and then gave it a shake. “Never mind, I’m going to go home.”

“Alone?”

“Well I do have a roommate now thanks to you,” I said in a dry tone. “Whoever thought sending me a werewolf was a good idea?” I held up a hand, forestalling his answer. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll discover and kill them later.”

“Be gentle. He’s young.”

“He’s seven hundred years old. He’ll be okay,” I rolled my eyes and stalked off. Gravel crunched beneath my boots as I made my way over to my black Ferrari. The engine came alive with a growl, and I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.

Empty.

So empty.

I hated that feeling.

The hunger that accompanied it.

That was one thing you never learned as a demon, that no matter how many souls you’ve been fed…

You will always want.

That was the great cruel joke of being a fallen race.

You were still lacking in every way, still wanting more. I still craved the taste on my lips as I took a life and relished in their death.

Hunger pains assaulted until I had to close my eyes to shut them out.

And when I opened them, all I saw was red until slowly, the blue replaced it.

Always fighting.

Always two sides.

Hah, King of the demons.

I wondered what they would all say if they knew the truth… That I wasn’t just a demon… never have been, never would be.