The Council (Darkness #5)(15)

Standing four inches shorter than Stefan, with half the body mass, and the movements of a clumsy adolescent, this male was obviously only working with a half-deck in the intelligence department. That, or he was terrible at sizing up his competition. His friend, a smidge taller and more robust, had a gruesome scar on his face and a cruel smile.

These two weren’t nearly smart or talented enough to pull off an invisible spell. He could see that in their blind swagger and their over-anxious movements, which meant possibly the invisible watchers earlier were exactly that: watchers. Spies. It explained why they took off so quickly. Which made these fools the first rung of challengers.

Stefan nearly laughed. Did they think so little of him?

His steps quickened as his temper rose. Electricity exhilarated his body, pumping through his chest and sizzling out his limbs. He focused on the male with the scar, obviously the stronger of the two. Reaching him with fluidity, Stefan grasped his shirt before the male knew how quickly Stefan would engage.

Stefan slammed the challenger against the wall once, twice. The hollow thump of his head rebounding off the wall echoed down the empty corridor. He punched the fool in the face three times, cracking a cheek and smashing his nose. Two more violent jabs to a kidney buckled the male’s legs. Stefan ripped him to the side, splashing his limp body across the ground.

His hard black eyes beat down on the pale brown of the next challenger. For one beat, the challenger met his gaze. The challenger’s chin rose fractionally, but his back was bowing. He hadn’t been ready for the brutality with which Stefan had assaulted his counterpart.

Slowly, as if a great weight bore down on him, the challenger’s resolve cracked. His eyes, dulling in defeat and submission, sought the ground. His body finished its bow. The power and fight in him seeped out.

He submitted.

“Challenging me was the wrong move,” Stefan said in a low voice filled with command. “I give challenges, I don’t receive them.”

“Y-yes,” the male stuttered. The acrid smell of urine wafted up.

“Yes, what?” Stefan pushed, leaning over the male, making his dominance complete.

“Yes, sir.” The male swallowed noisily.

“Yes, Boss,” Stefan corrected.

The man nodded adamantly. “Yes, Boss.”

Stefan straightened up and walked away without another thought. He’d just stepped up the challengers. There was no sense in playing a game about it. This whole facility had turned into a cesspool of bored politicians. Backers and power plays and whispered words—it was a weak way to go about things. They needed a leader, not a decrepit council. They needed votes and action, not false promises and words with double meanings.

And if someone said Stefan wanted that role, they’d be wrong. Since he’d talked to Kallias, he just wanted to walk away from all of this. To head toward a place that made sense. Home. But in order to survive, he had to be the toughest male they’d ever seen and the most vicious. His race worshipped that behavior, and Sasha’s safety demanded it.

Fighting a sudden pallor, Stefan let himself into his room and took a deep breath. Dominicous said the one place, besides the dining hall, that was forbidden to invade was the living quarters. No listening, no spying, and no challengers wanting to get a jump on him or Sasha.

He took a moment in the still setting, peaceful and quiet. He could lightly smell Sasha’s delicious scent. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. It’d only been half a day, but he missed her. He worried that she was okay. That she was handling her first challenge without a heavy heart.

Above all, he worried she wouldn’t make it out of this in one piece. He was afraid that they’d kill him off and leave her vulnerable.

He looked around the room for a sign of where she might be. As he expected, he noticed a note taped to the window. Jonas’ impatient hand scrawled the message: With the mongrels

Smart

Stefan paused at the door, his hand on the knob. His adrenaline was winding down, leaving his muscles quivering. Leaving him not as primed for another attack. But Sasha was out there.

Another deep breath and he was out the door again heading down the hall toward the shifters. Before he’d gotten two steps, though, he noticed someone coming up the corridor toward him. Slight and slinky, oozing sex, he could tell immediately that this was a human female. Not a challenge.

Slowing down, just in case she traveled with anything unseen, Stefan allowed himself a moment to analyze this creature—the type of human that seemed so common in this place. Submissive and with a desire to please, she, like the others, seemed to slink around with a promiscuous air. Even the males sauntered around promising sex. He’d seen these females glance at his kind imploringly and angle their necks, as if they were offering something. As if they were a buffet. There was no honor in their bearing, no pride. They were content to be used. To be lesser. It was disgusting.

The woman glanced up and noticed his advance. Her step slowed and a sultry smile curled her red lips. She veered directly into his path, all hip and breast. Her head tilted back, exposing three scabbed bite marks on her porcelain skin. Whoever had taken blood had not done so gently.

“Would you like a taste?” she purred. “I can please you in ways others cannot.”

He didn’t bother to hide his disgust as he stepped to the side to move around her. It was at that moment, though, that he caught her scent. It curled around his senses and infused his body. Unlike Sasha’s scent, however, this smell had a hint of decay. Like a dying rose in winter. Wondering about the difference, he slowed. “You have a scent to your arousal.”