Chapter 8

I breathe out slowly as I look around at the high obsidian arch that Anton and I walk through, moving into the palace itself. Whatever points this place loses for being dark and barren, it certainly impresses with its size and grandeur. The palace hall looms cavernous before me as we walk forward, lit entirely by flames that don’t do much to enliven the atmosphere or get rid of the persistent chill.

Indeed, I shudder as we move towards the center of the room, where there are sounds and life.

To my surprise, the marble floor dips inwards at the center of the room, a set of wide stairs slowly spiraling around to an ornate shallow pit at the center. At the far wall of the pit is, of all things, a simple black door, unadorned but the undeniable center of the space.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t have enough charms to capture my attention for long. Because my mouth falls open when I begin to look around the room and take in…

The women.

Women, nineteen of them I assume, spread out in a semicircle on the floor above the pit. Nineteen of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, my shoulders slumping as my eyes move over each perfect specimen of femininity. My eyes flick first to the woman so pale and diaphanous she almost seems to float in her white robes, her shining silver hair drifting weightlessly over her shoulders. Then I stare at the woman next to her who is so sinfully sexy, and so clearly ready to use that as a weapon, the scraps of her scarlet dress barely managing to caress her full breasts, her curved hips. I gaze at each woman in turn until I look towards the girl who stands closest to me, her dappled skin covered with pearls and shells, her blue and green and silver hair swept up in an elaborate coral crown.

The room buzzes with chatter and anxious conversation as servants – I mean, I guess they’re servants? – bustle around from woman to woman, offering drinks and food.

But I barely even notice them as I just stare around at my competitors, completely aghast, feeling plainer than I’ve ever felt in my life – which is something, considering I’ve spent my life standing next to my beautiful mother and my stunning sister, Ariel, who annoyingly grows more gorgeous with each passing year.

My shoulders slump, my head falling, and the seashell girl standing a few feet away turns towards me with a small smile and a look of concern when suddenly I feel a tingling rush of sensation at my side. Surprised, I look down to see Anton pressed there, snarling at me and looking meaningfully towards the corner of the room.

“What?” I murmur, frowning down at him.

He gives a soft, fierce yip, and starts to walk away towards that corner. Sighing, I follow, looking back towards the women. God, look at that one, with those incredible cascading curls in all the colors of the sunset –

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Anton snaps, and I turn to him in surprise when I realize that he’s transformed back into a guy.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I counter, anger riling in me as I put my hands on my hips and glance around, seeing that he’s cleverly tucked us behind a pillar so hat no one can see him.

“See?” he says, stepping forward and reaching for my face. “This is the Juniper Sinclair I met this morning – all spitfire and fury.” He curls his fingers beneath my chin, and though he can’t quite hold it, I take his meaning and tilt my face up to him. “Who the hell was that deflated little mouse who walked in here!?”

I snarl a little like the wolf that I am, baring my teeth and swatting his hand away. “Didn’t you see them, Anton? All of those women are gorgeous –“

“Yeah!” he says, his eyesbrows going up. “They’re hot as hell, it’s awesome! Never been happier to walk into a room in my life!”

I narrow my eyes, displeased. “Cool, well why don’t you go be handmaid to one of them?” I snap, my heart sinking. “If you’re so pleased by what you see?”

“Because, you blind tiny bat,” he snarls, leaning closer to glare into my eyes. “Even if I did have the choice of which girl in this room to be tied to – which I don’t – I’d still pick you!”

I straighten as I stare at him, my face surely the picture of shock.

“You’re Juniper fucking Sinclair!” he bursts out, casting out a hand towards the rest of the room beyond that pillar. “When the hell did you forget that!? You’re the daughter of the most powerful Alpha King the world has ever seen and a beautiful, magical Queen, who also happens to be a real sweetheart! You’re a Goddess-born wolf shifter and a fucking demigoddess, even if you haven’t stepped into your powers yet!”

I frown up at him, confused. “How do you know all of that?”

“Look, it’s not important now,” he says, stepping close and speaking fast. “What is important is that you remember who the hell you are, and that you were chosen for this competition – one of twenty women from across time and space – because you are every bit the equal to every woman in that room!”

“But they’re –“

“Pretty?” Anton says, staring at me like I’m insane. “Seriously, Juniper, do you not realize how –“

The horns blare again, low and deadly, and the messenger suddenly appears, peering around the pillar. Instantly, Anton is again a wolf at my side.

“Get out here,” the messenger growls, livid. “Now.”

I scowl at the messenger but do as I am bid, coming back out from behind the pillar and straightening my shoulders as I walk past him and towards the empty area at the pit where I am supposed to stand. Angry, I lengthen my stride and walk confidently to my spot, glaring around at everyone in the room.

To my surprise, a few eyes light on me, eyebrows going up at what they see.

And as I glance down at Anton, who is beautiful and menacing at my side, I realize that he just did all of that on purpose –

That he took me away and shouted at me because he knew it was what I needed – that going into this pissed off was going to be better than scared and intimidated.

A rush of gratitude pulses through me as I take my place and reach out a hand, drifting my fingers fondly over the fur of his head, pleased at the starlight rush of him against my fingertips. Anton glances up at me and playfully nips at my fingers, his message perfectly clear: I’m not your pet. So quit petting me.

“Oh, sure you are,” I murmur, smirking down at him.

He huffs the equivalent of a wolfish laugh, but both of our eyes turn suddenly towards the center of the room as a hush takes the air.

My shoulders straighten as, slowly, that simple door at the center of the pit swings open.

My breath catches as a man ducks his head beneath the lintel and steps out, looking around at the twenty of us massed before him as he straightens to his full, impressive height. My eyes move over him in turn, honestly impressed. The man is older, looking perhaps my father’s age, though like my father Dominic Sinclair he has lost none of his power. Indeed, he wears his age effortlessly, his silky grey-and-silver hair pushed back.

“Welcome,” he says as he steps forward to the center of the pit, his voice booming and resonant. “I know who you are, of course, as I sent you the invitations for this little game. But it is a distinct pleasure to see you all rallied before me in the flesh.”

Slowly he turns, his pleasure at the spread of women set before him clear on his face. Something about the proprietary nature of his gaze rankles me and I feel my lips turning into a sneer, even if I didn’t intend it.

His eyes catch on me as they pass, flicking down to Anton at my side, but only for a moment before he moves on.

“Of course,” he says when he has looked the entire gathering over at once, “my pleasure is not that which matters today. So let me step aside and instead introduce you to the man around whom this all revolves. My son.”

His son – but then that would mean…my shoulders straighten as I realize that the man before me is the God of Death, who orchestrated this whole game.

I stare at him, a little star-struck. I mean, I’ve never met a God before, not in the flesh. I’ve never even met my own grandmother.

The God does indeed take a step aside, gesturing towards the door with an open hand. The door drifts open as if on command and another man steps out.

All of my breath leaves me in a moment as I lean forward, just slightly, and stare, aghast at what I see.

The Prince of the Underworld moves forward to stand next to his father, all tall and broad-shouldered, running a casual hand through his shiny brown hair as he clenches his square jaw and glares around at us with rich coffee-black eyes.

As I stare at him, my wolf taps eagerly in my soul, confirming again the thought I had when I first saw him: that he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ladies, please meet my son Orion, the Prince of the Underworld.”

Many of the girls applaud but I stay very still, glaring hard at the man who I spilled my guts to at the bar last night over a glass of cherry liquor.

And when his eyes turn to me, a smirk on his lips?

A vicious snarl slips from between my teeth.