A Fire in the Flesh (Flesh and Fire, #3)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

A wolf I’d known in my heart and soul was him: the Asher, the One who is Blessed, the Guardian of Souls, and the Primal God of Common Men and Endings. The ruler of the Shadowlands. My husband. Nyktos. Ash. He’d never confirmed that he could shift forms, but I knew it was my Primal of Death. And when I saw the wolf, I’d thought he’d come for me.

He’d moved so quickly I didn’t see his other hand until Hanan screamed, and I saw Ash jerk his arm back. A bloody, pulsing mass smacked the floor.

Ash had killed another Primal. Was that how it was done? Ripping out the heart and destroying the head? It was a grotesque and barbaric method. And disturbingly hot.

But I also knew that somewhere in the Shadowlands, a new ruler of Sirta had risen as the Goddess of the Hunt. Not because Bele was the only god of Hanan’s Court to have Ascended—and at my hands—but because I felt it in the embers of life.

A guttural, inhuman growl shook the cage. “Get your fucking hands off my wife.”

I’d used compulsion. On the two most powerful Primals alive.

Kolis was an evil, sick bastard, and I didn’t think that what he felt for Sotoria was love. It was more like an obsession. But he was still in possession of his kardia, and he believed he was in love with her. If that were true, then he’d do anything for her. Someone he believed was me.

“Do not push me, so’lis.” So’lis? I had no idea what that meant, but I thought Sotoria might because her rage was palpable, and it was most definitely her that screamed what came out of my mouth next.

The tile beneath my palm cracked. Holy shit, I was breaking shadowstone, one of the strongest materials in both realms—if not the strongest.

Trying meant… Becoming his weakness. Making him fall in love. Ending him.

Recognizing the voice belonging to the Revenant, Callum, I closed my eyes.

Come to think of it, why was Attes so willing to believe that I spoke the truth about Sotoria?

They were the Chosen, brought to Iliseeum during the Rite to serve the Primals and their gods.

Something clicked into place as I watched them lift their veils, only enough to drink from crystal chalices. Could the Revenants have been Chosen at one time also?

The vicious, flesh-eating dakkais were pets in Dalos. Little too late to worry about that now.

I had a sick feeling that both of them were Chosen, but she was what Gemma had spoken of: the Chosen who went missing and returned hungry. Because this bitch looked like she was starving.

“You smell of Revenant and god,” she purred, moving fluidly, much like a pit viper. She moaned, and thick lashes fanned her cheeks. “And something else. Stronger.”

They formed a pattern of scales. Then I saw one ruby-red eye. A draken. I was holding a blade to a draken’s throat.

“Only the Primal of Life can wield compulsion against another Primal.”

“Ko’ in the old language can be translated to the word our. Lis is soul,” he explained as my muscles began to lock up. “Ko’lis would translate to our soul. That is what my name symbolizes.”

“What does So’ translate to?” The gold slowed in his eyes. “My.” My chest hollowed. My soul.

“But every day, there is a choice to keep going, to face the future head-on or not. Every day, there is a choice to be honest with yourself or to lie. One will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and the other the easiest, but there is always the opportunity for choice if you don’t take the easiest path.”

I’m well aware of the wards Nyktos placed around your mortal family. Nice of him to do so, but rather pointless. I’ve already been invited inside Wayfair. No wards will keep me out.”

“I’ve watched you for years,” Callum announced. “Kept an eye on you for Kolis.”

“Because there is one thing he’s wanted more than his graeca, and that is to be the most powerful Primal ever to exist. So, it’s either something as intangible as love, or ultimate power over life and death.”

The Primal God of War and Accord stood before me.

“You intervened when Kolis was feeding on me. I wouldn’t go as far as to say you saved my life.” A quick grin returned to Attes’s lips. “But that wasn’t the first time.”

“That was you? The hawk in the Dying Woods?”

“Did Eythos shift forms?” “He did. All Primals can.” “And was his a hawk?” I surmised. “Or a wolf?” “A wolf,” he confirmed. “Though, he always wished to fly with the hawks.”

“Primals cannot sense one another when we’re in our nota forms—when we take the shape of the animal we find ourselves most connected to,” he explained. “Just as Kolis didn’t sense him in his wolf form.”

“They’re what we call a chora. They’re basically an extension of the Primal that takes the nota shape. They are created from our blood and are very much alive,”

“Because I already knew of your existence.” Attes’s gaze locked with mine. “I’ve known longer than either Nyktos or Kolis.”

“And I was one of the few entrusted with the knowledge of what Eythos did.”

“The embers are bonding with you, allowing you to access more of the essence.” He shrugged. “It happens when gods near their Ascension, just as it does with Primals.”

“You see these bars? Have you touched them?” “Yes.” I began pacing. “It didn’t feel that great.” “Of course, not. They are bones of the Ancients.” He jerked his chin at them. “They’re chock-full of eather and powerful wards.”

“Those bones, when wielded as a weapon? Prick even the skin of a god? Dead. And because of the embers, if I try to take you through them and you get nicked? Dead. They can even put a Primal into years-long stasis,” he told me. “Nyktos is just as imprisoned by them as you are, and he’s far more guarded.”

“Then, clearly, the bones of the Ancients can be destroyed,” I said. “Only by two Primals: the Primal of Life and the Primal of Death.”

“I’m loyal only to the true Primal of Life.” His head cocked to the side. “That was Eythos, and now it is you. Yes, you only have two Primal embers,” he added quickly, “but that still makes you, for all intents and purposes, the true Primal of Life, as long as those embers remain inside you.”

“Hating someone doesn’t mean you will cease serving them, especially if doing so benefits you,” he cut in. “Confiding in him without knowing his true thoughts and intentions was a risk to my Court and everyone who relies on me.”

He’d only said that he hadn’t been sure if Keella could follow Sotoria’s soul because her return hadn’t been a rebirth.

“The phrases are often used interchangeably, along with reincarnation, but a rebirth usually involves the souls of those who have not truly lived,” he said, referencing the babes Ash had spoken of. “Those who are reincarnated may have memories or even dreams of who they once were, and that’s as rare as the act itself, and is usually reserved for viktors.”

“A soul is nothing like embers, Seraphena. Two should never be in one.” A great sense of unease rose. “And what happens if there are?” “It means that Sotoria’s soul is…” I watched him look away as he shoved a hand through his hair. “She’s trapped in me?” I asked. “Basically.”

“It does. Or did.” He exhaled heavily, dragging his thumb over the base of his throat. “It’s from the oldest of our language. Toria had a few meanings. One meant garden. Another could be loosely translated into pretty flower.” He smiled then, but no dimple appeared, and I couldn’t help but think of what Sotoria had been doing when she died. She’d been picking flowers. “But a more exact translation is poppy.”

“So, Sotoria’s name could be translated into my pretty…” A strange shiver curled its way down my spine. “My pretty poppy?”

When Ash and I had been at the pool beneath the House of Haides, he’d admitted to checking in on me in the past. I realized now that it had been him all those years ago. There wasn’t a single part of me that doubted it.

“Your dreams?” I said, watching his eyes close briefly at the sound of my voice. “More like you’re in my dream.”

“They are nothing more than an unfortunate…side effect.” “Side effect of what, exactly?” I asked, watching Callum step aside. “Of creating the Ascended. They are the product of maintaining balance and giving life.” Kolis smiled then, ducking as he entered the cage.

Callum scoffed. “There are no Revenants like me.”

They either had to enter Arcadia or go into a deep stasis because they were changing, becoming the worst of what their powers could do.”

The essence tied to each of us Primals is capable of great good but also terrible malevolence.”