The Warrior King (Inferno Rising) by Owen, Abigail (online e book reading txt) 📗

but turn her gaze to the man who’d stolen her heart—back stiff, head held high, jaw tight, black eyes blazing with fire that set shadows dancing over the planes of his face. Except for an errant lock of hair that refused to stay put, he was about the most intimidating thing she’d ever seen. Sexy as hell.

“I guarantee your safety to get away from the mountain, but not after that,” Samael said. “Make your choice.”

Damned. I’m damned for loving him even more for that. Everything inside her hurt. Ached in a way that she knew came from holding the truth inside. From Gorgon, but from Sam, too. Her love for him needed to be in the open for all to see and know.

Love. The first time she’d seen him in that mirror, she’d given up her heart to this man, only she hadn’t been able to admit it to herself. Promising herself to Gorgon had been the biggest mistake of her life. Why Kasia had seen nothing in her visions, Meira would have to ask her sister later.

She pulled her own shoulders back.

No matter what had brought them here to this moment, she’d be damned if Sam was going to kill them both by sacrificing himself.

Almost as though he’d taken that as a signal, Haikaf turned and went to one knee, his right hand in a fist over his heart. “I vow to never abandon king or clan again.”

One by one, each man and woman behind him did the same, their vows becoming a jumble of sound in the room.

Not a single dragon shifter left the mountain.

…

Samael cast his gaze out over the people on their knees, his soul shredding with each repeated vow. These were his people, those he’d known as both boy and man. Many faces were familiar to him. Haikaf had once worked with his father, though he’d been a younger man at the time.

Vows they made because of him.

What would they do when he died, when he no longer remained to hold their trust to keep them safe, to do the right thing by them?

They’ll have the king. And Meira.

Meira had not been raised in royalty as she might have been had Pytheios not killed her father and sent her mother into hiding. She’d been raised among everyday humans. A simple life.

He’d leave the clan in her capable hands. With Gorgon, who had the faith of the upper classes, at her side, she’d be unstoppable.

A shout rose up from those behind him who had remained. “Traitors!”

Then another. And another.

One by one those before him rose to their feet, shifting uneasily, every gaze not on the king, but on Samael.

He didn’t need Meira’s abilities to see the desperation, the fear, and a slowly rising tide of answering anger that visibly rippled through them, evidenced in the tense jaws, slowly clenching fists, and glittering eyes. The people before him and behind him reminded Samael of a haboob sandstorm whipped to a frenzy by powerful winds. Evil winds. Until the skies turned blood orange, leaving behind a frosted coating of sand on everything in its wake. Only, if the violence about to blast through the Black Clan was allowed to happen, blood would be the coating left behind.

The pitch of the shouts gathered and rose, like a tidal wave of sound and fury behind him. The way those before him leaned forward, as though preparing to stand against the blast, the place had turned to a powder keg.

One kiss of fire, and the whole place would burn.

Three things occurred to him all at once. One, he had two jobs—protect his mate and protect the king. Two, Meira stood at Gorgon’s side, vulnerable in a way no one else in the room would be. Three, the commoners were his people. He would never stand against them.

“Stop,” he thundered, his dragon adding to the shout of his voice.

The cacophony of sound ebbed, only to surge back with renewed strength. Pure instinct driving his actions, Samael stepped into the gulf between the factions of his clan and shifted. His dragon’s only focus was their mate, and his transformation to creature rode that edge of pain, threatening to tip him over into the abyss where he became only beast, no more humanity within him.

But Samael held the edge.

In a shimmering burst and with a roar that shook the rock mountain, he whipped around to face those behind. Face down the dissenters.

He opened the channel in his mind to communicate to the horde gathered behind and before. “Abide by your king’s decision or leave now, cast out as rogues.”

The shouts, already dimmed by his sudden transformation, cut off, and silence slipped into the void.

Samael stood before them, the only motion the slashing of his tail behind him as he stared down the riot still trembling at a precipice.

“Of course he would back the traitors. He’s one of them.” A shout rose up from the back.

“Are you really that blind?” Samael didn’t bother to tone down his snide voice. “Other than the guard, most selected and trained from childhood, few of you are fighters. Meanwhile, the shifters behind me exist in a harder reality. My own fighting skills were cut among them. Do you seriously want to risk your lives against them?”

While some continued to glare at him, trembling with impotent rage, the smarter ones stilled, glancing around, a question clear in their eyes.

“Your lives are possible because of these people. I’ve listened to your pathetic grumblings. No one to clear your trash or clean your shit, make your plumbing work, cook your food. Even if you survived a fight, could you function without them?”

Even more paused to consider, though the sneers curling their lips said some wanted to argue, prove him wrong. But Samael had lived on both sides now.

“They need us as much as we need them.” A new voice rose.

An answering rumble at his back had those in front of him tensing.

“You’re not wrong.” Samael silenced both sides with the words, though