Valen’s lightning shook the ground, lashing down from the heavy black clouds like white-purple whips to light up the darkness. Each strike filled the air with the scent of daemon blood, rousing Daimon’s darkness, keeping it at the fore.
It seeped deeper into him, snaked around his heart and murmured to him, whispering taunts about the males around him, about them and Cass.
About how she would never be his.
Daimon slid across the dry grass of the ancient Stadio Palatino and used one of his throwing knives to slice across the shins of a female daemon as her claws cut through the air above him. She shrieked and leaped backwards, into the path of a lightning strike. Blood and bone exploded outwards and Daimon was swift to step, avoiding being hit by it.
He landed in the middle of a group of six male daemons.
All of them turned on him, their eyes glowing with sick hunger in the darkness.
He was sure his looked the same.
From the ends of their fingers, long claws grew, four-inch talons that promised pain if they caught him.
Their dilated pupils narrowed into thin vertical slits as he faced them, rising to his full height, showing them that he wasn’t afraid of them. Six or sixty, it didn’t matter. They would never win against him.
Rain hit in a heavy downpour, turning the grass to mud beneath his boots, saturating him in a heartbeat. He casually ran a hand over his white hair, slicking it back.
His heart beat steadily, a hard drumming against his chest as he waited.
Beyond the six, in the middle of the long rectangular courtyard of the monument, Valen fought another half a dozen, keeping them away from Marek. Beyond Valen, Marek stood facing the gate that hovered a few feet above the floor of the Stadio Palatino. The colourful light it emitted shimmered over the broken columns that lined all sides of the grass and the crumbling walls of the ancient Roman buildings that enclosed it.
Two of the daemons nearest Daimon twitched, one shifting foot to foot as the other licked his lips, his forked tongue flickering over them.
Daimon had always hated the more lizard-like of the daemon breeds. None of these six had a scratch on them thanks to the tough scaly skin they could call in a heartbeat to cover their more delicate human-looking flesh.
One to his left hissed through razor-sharp teeth.
And suddenly all of them were on him.
He grinned and hunkered down, called on his power and savoured the rush as shards of ice shot up all around him, managing to catch at least one of the males and spill blood. He attacked the moment the daemons backed off a step, lashing out with the throwing knife he clutched in his left hand, pumping his power into it so the blade caused ice to ripple over the surface of every daemon it struck.
These daemons might be able to shield themselves with scales, but even that wouldn’t protect them from his ice.
One daemon went down, hissing and snarling as he clutched as his arm. Ice cascaded over it, glittering in the light of the gate as it took hold, thickening and growing to encase the male’s entire arm.
Daimon spun and brought his leg up, struck the male’s arm with his boot.
It shattered.
The daemon howled and backed off, desperately clutching at the stump left behind.
The remaining five daemons looked at their comrade and then at Daimon.
He smiled slowly.
Waited.
A daemon behind him was the first to make a move, lunging for him rather than fleeing as Daimon had expected. He twisted to face the male, brought his arm up and blocked the daemon’s attack. He grabbed the male’s wrist with his other hand and went to throw him.
Daimon bellowed as claws raked down his back and he arched forwards, pain searing him like an inferno.
Bastards.
He spun on his heel and hurled his right hand forwards, unleashing the blade he clutched in it. It nailed the daemon in his shoulder, but the male didn’t go down.
Daimon cursed.
In his haste to retaliate, he had forgotten to imbue it with his power.
Two daemons piled onto him, claws slicing through his roll-neck long-sleeve, the scent of his blood joining the vile coppery odour of daemon blood in the air.
The darkness he had been fighting to hold back surged forwards, the intoxicating rush of it consuming him in a heartbeat.
Daimon grinned and grappled with one of the daemons, grabbing his wrists and hurling his head forwards. His forehead cracked off the daemon’s one and the male grunted and reared back. The second male attacked, slamming into Daimon’s side and taking him down.
Pain erupted in a wave as he hit the slick grass.
And he relished it.
He grinned as the daemon pummelled him, not bothering to block his blows. He took every one of them as the darkness rose inside him, twisted tighter and devoured more of him. Daimon grabbed the daemon and rolled with him, pinned him beneath him on the wet grass and slammed his fists into his face, knocking his head left and right. Wherever Daimon’s fists struck him, scales erupted and ice covered them.
He bore down on the male, his lips peeling back off his fangs in a wide smile as black blood flowed from the lacerations on the daemon’s face, quick to freeze under Daimon’s assault.
He didn’t feel the pain in his side, didn’t notice the heat spreading across it.
But he did notice the way the daemon laughed at him, his eyes lighting up with sick glee.
Daimon slammed his right fist into the male’s head, bone cracking beneath the force of the blow.
Silence reigned.
He shoved onto his feet and stumbled, twisting to face the other wretches. Heat bloomed and spread down his left hip, fire pooling at the apex of it. It wasn’t enough.
He bared his fangs at the daemons, goading them, needing more.
Two were quick to take him up, launching at him in
