A Surrender Of Hope (Umbra Hunters #3)

5. Razar

FIVE

Razar

“ R azar? Razar, wait up!” Jesthren shouts as I storm down the hall. My mind races as the pain in my chest makes me grit my teeth, willing the numbness I kept wrapped around me for the last year to come back. I feel stripped, bared, like a wounded animal backed into a corner looking for an escape. In a span of twenty-four hours, my already twisted life has imploded to a whole new level of fucked-up.

I squeeze my eyes shut. The vision of Archer, aiming the arrows he so expertly crafts at me, then lowering his aim at my Pup flashes through my mind like a never-ending nightmare. A dream I’m forever trapped in, doomed to live over and over again until I finally lose my mind. The weight of her tiny body hanging limp in my arms, the warm blood trickling over my fingers as I stared down at her, unable to do anything to help. The damage had already been done. I couldn't protect her. She died in my arms. I felt her breaths stall, the tiny flutter of her heart slow until it gave one last thump in her chest, then nothing.

Fury courses through me as I turn a corner, watching the few Rangers who were talking there scatter like mice, the scent of their fear making my Beastia growl at the prey in front of him. The need to shift, to run and kill grows to an unbearable level, and I know I need to get out of this damned castle before I do something stupid.

I knew the moment my Beastia decided not to kill her back at her cabin all those months ago that there was something more to my Pup than meets the eye. She had a presence about her; the very air around her felt heavy, like it was sparking with magic. Yet when I reached out with my own to see what she was, there was nothing there. I was never convinced that Meyer was a simple Hunter, but with no evidence other than my instincts that there was something dark lingering in her eyes and the terrifying knowledge that my Beastia liked her, I had no reason to further look into her… Until now.

That mark on her wrist isn’t by some happenstance or nightmare. Meyer would have to be strong enough to bear the brand of the Devil, and I now have to figure out what the hell she is so I don't lose another thing in my life.

“Razar!” Jesthren shouts again just as a firm hand encircles my arm, yanking me to a halt. My blade is in my hand in seconds as I twist, pressing the curved blade to my brother’s throat, a bead of blood already forming against the sharp edge as I glare up at one of the men I trust most.

Jesthren arches a dark brow, unfazed by my sudden attack. I knew he wouldn’t be. Out of all my brothers besides Archer, Jesthren knows me best. We grew up together. It was the four of us, Jesthren, Valen, Archer, and me. Our parents were overjoyed at finally having the family they tried to have for years. We were all brought into the Royal family within a few months of each other—all orphans from the Shadow Wars. We welcomed Creed into our family years later, with Nox added as a tiny baby only a few decades ago.

As the oldest brother, Jesthren was always there for us, especially me. The Royals of the Veripellis Demons are shifters. They have a Beast form that comes to them as their magic grows. The stronger the Demon, the more monstrous the Beast. As the nephews of Orcus Darakhs, the King of the Veripellis, Archer and I knew we would shift eventually, but no one was prepared for what I would change into. My mother was terrified of me, and I’m sure my father was, too because he tried to help during my first shift.

Only Jesthren accepted who and what I was from the moment I first shifted. Archer had been leery, but loved me no matter what, coming to accept that part of me over time. It took Valen longer to feel comfortable in my presence. The young boy had seen firsthand what the Beastia could do—had seen his mother slaughtered in front of him by one of the monsters, and I knew he feared that side of me, but he never let it show.

“Did you know?” I growl under my breath, watching Jesthren’s face for any hint of a lie as his eyes widen in shock, then hurt as he shakes his head. “Archer was brought to you! You intervened and?—”

“And he was already dead, Razar! I brought him back to our parents and helped them grieve, and I fucking grieved alongside them! I watched his tomb being shut. I held Mara as we gave Ilithkar a Warrior’s burial! The kingdom is still in mourning. Father has the royal flame lit on the castle. He refuses to let it burn out, and mother still cries herself to sleep. I’m as shocked and devastated by this as you, brother. I swear it!”

“He preferred Archer, not Illithkar. Only Mother and Mara call him that.” I let my blade drop, hating myself for attacking him when I know this isn’t his fault. I turn and pick up my pace, needing out. I feel like I’m caged and trapped in a cell of my own making. The only problem is I don’t know how to get free of it.

“Yes, though I never understood why you lot preferred the mortal names over your given Demonic ones,” Jesthren mutters as he rushes to keep up with me.

“We have sacrificed more for those mortal names than the others. Names hold power. The more you have, the stronger you will become. You would know that if you left Veripellis more often,” I growl, both loving and hating the name Razar. It’s the name I have accomplished more tasks and growth with, but it’s also the name that has brought me the most pain. My twin’s death, or rather resurrection, has hit me square in the chest, and I fear how much more I will have to endure to keep this name.

A pair of bright green eyes, full of light and laughter, flash through my mind, and I grind my sharpening teeth together, furious that she’s even a thought right now. I need to concentrate on Archer and figure out what the hell is going on. Instead, I’m fuming and feeling sick about the red mark on her wrist.

“She holds the mark of Inanis,” I grind out, trying and failing to keep my claws sheathed at the mention of the devil’s name. They rip through my skin, and I can feel drops of blood drip onto the floor as I stomp down the main staircase toward the big double doors of the castle.

“I know. I felt his presence in her mind when Nox and I saved her. I think Inanis had her in a trance, and I need to tell Nox about it so he can question her further. I’m afraid the devil has taken a liking to the girl, and we need to find out why. It could prove a useful tool for us,” Jesthren admits, and I snarl, turning on him as I get to the bottom of the stairs.

“We will not be using the girl!” Jesthren raises an unimpressed brow and nods, eyes studying me with a look I don’t like.

“Obviously. I would never suggest that. But having all the information will be helpfull to keep her out of his grasp.” His eyes flick up and down my body, with a purse to his lips. “By the Gods, Razar, I never thought I would see the day you lost your balls to a girl. I thought for sure you would’ve been safe from that fate.” Jesthren crosses his arms over his chest and grins at me. “It’s a good look on you, brother.”

“I have not lost anything to that annoying female. She’s a distraction which I can’t afford. I need her to leave so I can think straight again.”

“Ha. I doubt Valen or Lennox will allow her out of their sight. Especially now, all things considered. So her presence is something you will have to come to terms with. I must admit, I questioned her hold on the four of you. She’s human, or mostly. The Demon part of her is almost nonexistent. She’s beautiful, to be sure, and seems… softer than our females. Is that the draw?” he asks as we walk through the entry. I shove open the double doors, letting in a burst of frigid winter air.

I eye my brother in confusion and shake my head. My Pup may be part human, but there is nothing soft about her. She’s as stubborn as a Leviathan, with the temperament of a Beastia wrapped in a distracting package that deceives those around her. She’s like my tiny monster—small but with sharp claws.

I huff an annoyed breath at that thought, grinding my teeth and fighting the urge to return to Lennox’s room to take my feline back from her. But I promised to give her twenty-four hours with him, and I’m a man of my word. I now owe her a life debt, and unfortunately, my life is worthless… So, I gave her the best thing I had while I figured out what to do next. Because despite what my Pup says the tiny monster is mine, and I won’t be giving him up forever.

“She’s not soft,” I mutter, not wanting to say anything more on the subject. Jesthren just showed up, and I know my brother. He’ll have to form his own opinion on the girl. It won’t matter what I say, positive or negative. He’ll eventually make up his mind, and then it will be set in stone.

“She seems soft and small.” He frowns. “I think you should feed her more and look into how to make her more… sturdy. She weighs hardly anything, and she’s way too fragile. The fact that she died so easily is disturbing. Maybe Lennox should bring her home where he knows he can keep her safe,” Jesthren grumbles, a concerned look crossing his face as he follows me down the front steps of the castle and out into the snow-covered courtyard. “We should leave the girl with Mom.”

I pause at that thought, then nod. Meyer living in Veripellis would make sense. She would have the protection of the Royal Guard, and Mother and Father wouldn't let anything happen to her, especially now that she is bound to Lennox.

“I’ll talk to Nox about sending her home. He’ll never do it if you suggest the idea,” I grumble, glaring at a pair of Drakos Hunters walking through the gate. One look our way, and their faces pale. I stomp toward the gate, tearing my gaze from the pathetic fear I smell wafting off them in waves, then sigh in relief when I step out into the clearing outside the castle walls. The air around me lightens, my heart slows, and I feel my Beast climbing toward the surface, desperate for release.

“Yeah, about that. What can I do to…” Jesthren trails off, and I hear him breathe a heavy sigh. “Listen, I know I fucked up and didn't handle Nox’s birth very well,” he mutters, and I almost snort.

“That's an understatement,” I growl, my Beast at odds with how we feel about Jesthren's treatment of our brother. On the one hand, Jesthren has always supported us. He never feared me and was the first to help when I got in trouble. But on the other, Lennox is my crown prince. He is the leader of our family group, and my allegiance is one hundred percent to him. Not only mine, but my Beast’s. Nox has tamed him in ways not even Jesthren has. Not with gentle words or understanding, but with his own beast form. Valen says it's like calling to like—my Beast recognizes Nox as one of our own.

Nox, Arch, and I are the only ones with Royal blood, meaning we are the only ones with beast forms. Arch and I are supposed to protect the heir as the nephews of the reigning king; our beast forms are strong, but we do not behave like monsters unless you pose a threat to the heir. No one knows how I came into my Beast form or why. But at least I know Nox will be the most protected King of Veripellis. My Beastia immediately tied our life and soul to him when Nox was old enough to come into his Beast form. Archer’s did as well. It is the reason for our birth and our whole life's purpose. He is our prince and eventually… our king.

“How… how do I fix it?” Jesthren stutters, running a big hand through his short-cropped black hair. I eye him, wondering if he actually wants to make amends, then frown and shake my head. Why the hell is he asking me how to fix something, when we both know I’m the one who ruins everything? I think back to what Valen always tells me and figure it's better to pass on his wisdom than give Jesthren advice. I would only make it worse.

“You don’t. You can’t change your fuckup, but you can show Nox you want to move forward. You were a dick. Own it and figure out a way to be helpful. Now leave.” I wave him off as I stomp through the thick snow toward the tall pine trees on the far side of the clearing. I rip my cloak off and toss it at his face, listening to him curse me out as I move into the shadows, loving the familiar feeling of belonging in their dark depths. “I need to kill something, and I would rather it not be you. It would upset Creed and Valen.”

Jesthren scowls at me, yanking my cloak off his head where it landed and rolling the fabric into a ball. “How very touching. Well, at least I know those two would miss me,” he grumbles, almost looking like a pouting toddler, even though he’s well over six-and-a-half-feet tall with arms the size of a small tree. “And we both know your Beastia won't hurt me. So go ahead and shift,” he says, waving a hand at me as I walk further into the trees.

I hesitate, thinking of doing as he asks, then shake my head. I feel off; there is something not right. With the attack, Archer’s sudden resurrection, and my Pup dying, my Beastia feels antsy. He feels like a threat is nearby, but can't see or hear it.

“Go back and figure out how to fix your shit,” I growl as my bones start to crack, my skin tearing as black needle-like fur erupts up and down my arms. I give my oldest brother one more look over my shoulder before I start to run deeper into the forest. I’d heard some Hunters say a pack of Therion was on the North Ridge. Hopefully, they’re still there so I can settle the bloodlust rushing through my veins.