Unstable by Lacey Carter Andersen
1
Kiera
It’s strange.Even in this dark cell, I can sense the spirits in the woods that surround the demon castle. The feeling is like a pulse rumbling beneath my feet, or like the awareness of the wind across my skin. It’s something I can feel so strongly that it’s strange I can’t see the spirits as clearly as I can see the walls of my prison.
Why in the hell are they everywhere here, and why did the spirits protect us?
That’s why the demons hadn’t killed me and my men, because the spirits had surrounded us, and the demons didn’t want to anger them. That was something I understood. As a berserker, I too respected the spirits.
But I’ve never seen the spirits behave that way before...
And the more I think about it, the more it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. I rub my flesh, but the strange feeling remains. All this insanity began on Walpurgisnacht, the night when the line between us and the spirit world was the thinnest.
Am I crazy to think somehow this is all connected?
I let my head thump back against the cold stone wall. It doesn’t really matter, even though not knowing bothered me. I had already spent a night alone in this cell. At least I think it was a night, it was hard to tell in the demons’ prisons.
My mind constantly rolls through everything I’ve been through since leaving the Wicked Reform School, since the day my best friend was killed and I went berserk for the first time. What’s strange is I can’t even seem to focus on how everything would be better if none of this happened, because that would mean I wouldn’t have met my men. What I can focus on is how much better it is being in the demons’ prison, rather than in Maxen’s home. How if the demons hadn’t attacked at that moment, I might have become the bride to a psychopath.
Which is just sad. Crazy man who wants to marry me? Run from that. But escape to a demon prison? Yes, please! Boy have my priorities changed...
And that leads me down other paths.
If I became Maxen’s bride, the prophecy would be fulfilled. Chances are all the berserkers would take a knee to Maxen, and he would become the king he so desperately longs to be. And I have no doubt the world would descend into violence and bloodshed.
And the idea of that motherfucker having more power seriously makes me want to vomit.
The thing is, I don’t want to die in this dark place, away from my men. But I also have this sick sense in my gut that the world would be better off with me dying here than me falling into Maxen’s clutches again, and that’s just depressing to think about.
Outside of my cell, I hear the unpleasant sound of a demon’s stomping steps. A key jangles in the door after a minute, and I tense, ready for anything. The truth is that I have no idea what these creatures want from us, but I have to imagine it isn’t something good.
A minute later, the cell opens, and the light from the torch outside my cell is blinding. I lift a hand, wincing against the light, and spot the silhouette of a huge man. My heart leaps, and for a minute I think it might be one of my men, but then the strange man is shoved into the cell. Two demons walk behind him, push him against the wall across from me and chain him to the wall.
One of the demons looks back at me. “Not to worry. We care for our prisoners until their fate is decided, especially prisoners protected by the spirits. We won’t allow him to hurt you.”
So that’s why he’s chained and I’m not? Hell, I kind of don’t mind that. How in the world are these demons more thoughtful captors than that asshole Maxen?
The demons leave, locking the cell behind them, and my gaze jerks to the man.
My jaw drops. He’s been beaten, that much is clear. And recently. Blood runs from a cut above his eye. There’s a massive bruise on his cheek, and his shirt is torn. Then, our eyes meet, and I feel my heart race. He has dark eyes. In this light, I can’t tell if they’re black, or just look that way. His hair is blond and neatly cut. And even in chains, beaten, and in a cell, he holds himself with utter confidence. Like the whole world simply revolves around him.
“Uh, hi,” I say, feeling awkward.
His gaze runs over me, and a frown turns his lips down. “Hello.”
Okay, well, I guess at least he’s polite. “I’m Kiera.”
“I know,” he says.
I try to hide my unease. “How do you know who I am?”
He lifts a brow in a manner I find a little too arrogant. “Everyone knows who the beautiful fiancée of the berserker king is. Your white hair is pretty hard to miss, even if I was dumb as a doorknob.”
“I’m not his fiancée. I was his prisoner.” My words hold an edge to them, but for some reason, I can’t shake the rise of anger inside of me that this man is acting like I’m some kind of giggling fiancée holding out my ring proudly for all to see.
You know, if I had a ring...
He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? The only way we’re getting out of these cells is if Maxen rescues us. And then, you’ll be his bride. But if he doesn’t come, chances are we’ll be dead before the week is out. So if you have to choose between being his bride and dead--”
“I guess I have to hope my death is quick then, huh?”
Unexpectedly, his lips quirk into an almost smile.
“So, who are you to Maxen then?” I ask. He had mentioned that he’d rescue us.
He releases a slow breath, seems to consider not answering me, then says, “Cole, the commander of his troops.”
The tiny spark of something inside of me dies. “Then, you sir, are an enemy.”
His gaze locks with mine. “We don’t need to be enemies when we both have a similar goal.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, glaring.
“To survive.”
“I won’t work with someone who serves that monster.”
He lifts that damned brow of his again. “What about Emory? Rumor has it that Maxen’s bastard brother has a place in your heart. He serves your enemy.”
“Th-that’s complicated,” I stutter out, a knife twisting in my gut at the mention of Emory.
He closes his eyes as the cut on his forehead leaks blood over his lid and seems to relax against the stone. “Life isn’t complicated. It’s also not all black and white. In this cell, we can be allies. Outside of here, we can be enemies.”
No, life is complicated. Emory had never served his brother willingly. His brother had broken him down as a human from the time they were children, tortured him, and made his life hell, so Emory had struggled to stand up to Maxen. This man? This man just served a twisted asshole.
Still, I tear a bit of the fabric from the bottom of my wedding gown and cautiously move toward him. I pat the blood from his eyelid, and he jerks, his eyes springing open.
My breath catches, and his gaze seems to see into my soul. It’s hard to look away from him, but I do, pressing the cloth to his wound to give it a chance to heal.
“See,” he whispers. “Not all black and white.”
“This isn’t me accepting your stupid idea. Me helping a fellow person doesn’t mean we’re allies in here, it just means I’m not a dick.”
To my surprise, he chuckles, and the sound seems to roll through me, sending goosebumps rising across my flesh.
This man has a strange effect on me. But he’s crazy if he sees this as more than what it is. We’re not allies. The only people I care about are my men, my family, and myself. If I have to slit this guy’s throat to get us all free, I’ll do it.
You’ve changed, Kiera.I push the thought aside. Yes, I have changed. But that’s a good thing. I need to be ruthless if we have any chance of getting out of this place alive.
Still, I dab the cut on the man’s head and repeat the word ‘enemy’ over and over again in my head.
