Knox (Monsters of Veridia #1)

Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

When Knox had set out to set the Shadow King straight, he’d been prepared to jump into battle if necessary. He’d been prepared to find himself amidst the opulent ruins of the Shadow Court, the air thick with the scent of blood and ozone, the ground trembling beneath the weight of a thousand battling shadows. He’d been prepared for a fight—an epic clash with the Shadow King, a duel that would determine the fate of their world.

But what he saw instead was… beige.

Beige walls, beige carpet, a beige sofa—which he was sitting on—with faded floral cushions that looked like they’d last seen battle in a war against good taste.

His head throbbed with a dull ache. He vaguely remembered a blinding flash of light, a sense of falling, a taste of something metallic and bitter on his tongue… and then… this.

He tried to summon his powers, to conjure a whisper of shadow or a spark of illusion, but nothing responded. His magic felt distant, muted, as if a thick fog had settled over his senses. It was unsettling, like a phantom limb aching for a connection that was no longer there.

What had happened to his magic?

Had his journey drained him?

"What in the hells…" he muttered.

"Here, have some tea."

Knox looked up to study the old woman offering him a mug with steaming liquid. Though his senses were dulled, he could tell that she was human. Not a spark of magic in her. The other human in the room was different. He was perched on the edge of an armchair, his posture stiff, his gaze fixed on Knox with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. The human’s energy was muted, like the world around him, but beneath the surface, Knox sensed a raw, pulsing vulnerability, like an exposed nerve.

Emotional wounds , his incubus instincts whispered, easy to exploit .

The thought sent a jolt of both revulsion and a terrifyingly familiar hunger through him. He was an incubus. It was in his nature to find weakness in his opponents, to turn every one of their most secret desires into weapons to be used against them.

He’d spent decades doing just that, and then he’d spent another decade trying to be better than his instincts.

And now this human spoke to the monster in him that only wanted to feed.

Knox refused to fall into old patterns.

He tore his gaze from the human and focused on the old woman, forcing a semblance of composure. "Thank you," he said, accepting the mug with a nod.

"Are you feeling alright, dear?" the old woman asked. "That was quite a fall you took."

"A fall?" Knox echoed, taking a sip of the surprisingly soothing liquid. It tasted of herbs and something faintly sweet. He recalled the sense of falling, but not what had actually happened.

"You came crashing through the skylight, young man," the old woman said. "Scared the living daylights out of both of us."

The other human spoke, his voice sharp. "Who are you? Where did you come from? And what in the hell were you doing on our roof?"

Knox turned back to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. The man was pretending to be angry, but that was not the only emotion Knox could sense. There was interest there too. Hidden longing.

So easy to read.

So tempting.

Knox could walk over to him, pull him out of that armchair and press him against the wall. He wouldn’t be met with much resistance if he did. Maybe a token amount of struggle to add some spice.

No.

Focus.

He was not going to let this human turn him back into the demon he’d once been. The one who acted without thinking and took whatever he wanted.

He was going to be nice to his hosts. "My name is Knox," he said, choosing his words carefully. "As for how I arrived… I’m not entirely certain."

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"Adrian!" his grandmother scolded, her voice sharp. "Don’t be rude. The poor boy is clearly confused. He probably wandered away from a convention or something. Lots of young people dress up these days."

Adrian. So that was his name. It suited him—sharp, a little prickly.

Adrian glanced at his grandmother, then back at Knox. "That’s some pretty elaborate cosplay you’ve got going on there. Did you make it yourself?"

Cosplay? What in the realms was this human talking about?

Knox felt a flicker of frustration rise within him. "What is cosplay?"

Adrian blinked, taken aback by the question. "You’re messing with me, right?" He gestured toward Knox. "Those horns. The whole demon-warrior look. It’s pretty impressive, but it’s got to be cosplay."

Knox frowned, genuinely confused. "I am not… cosplaying, whatever that means." He glanced down at himself, suddenly self-conscious. His black battle gear was torn, his armor scuffed, and mud clung to the leather of his boots. He looked less like a formidable warrior and more like a vagrant who’d fallen down on his luck.

"You’re telling me those horns are real?" Adrian scoffed.

"Be polite," his grandmother reminded him.

He looked back at her with an expression of disbelief. "Grandma, seriously? You’re buying this?"

Evelyn shrugged. "The poor man fell out of the sky. He’s either a method actor or someone who clearly ended up in the wrong place."

The wrong place…

Yes, that was definitely where he was.

And that wasn’t going to change if he just kept sitting here. Knox stood, nearly upsetting the tea table as he did so.

"Where are you going?" Adrian asked, head whirling toward him.

"Out," Knox said, already moving to the door. "I need to… clear my head."

He had to climb down some stairs, but when he finally stepped out into the night, the cool air was a welcome shock against his heated skin. It wasn’t raining, but storm clouds hung heavy in the unfamiliar sky.

He inhaled deeply as he walked a few steps along the road, breathing in unfamiliar scents—most of them unpleasant. Everything about this world was wrong and off kilter. And there was so much noise.

Metal carriages roared past on the street, spewing fumes that burned his nostrils. The street lamps gave off a strange artificial glow and music blared from somewhere, music unlike any he’d ever heard a bard play.

What was this place?

Knox pressed a hand to his temple, trying to quell the rising nausea as he rounded a corner.

He didn’t see the metal beast until it was nearly upon him. A horn blared, a long, angry wail that pierced through the chaos. He froze, caught in the glare of its blinding eyes.

A hand shot out, grabbing his arm, yanking him back with a force that nearly sent him sprawling.

"Are you insane?!"

Adrian’s voice, sharp and laced with panic, jolted him back to the present.

Knox blinked, his heart pounding against his ribs as another metal beast roared past. He turned to glare at Adrian, anger replacing the shock that had momentarily paralyzed him.

"What in the hells was that?"

"A car!" Adrian snapped, his grip tightening on Knox’s arm as if he expected him to jump straight back into danger. "What did it look like?"

"Some manner of demonic contraption!" Knox retorted, wrenching his arm free. "And why are you following me?"

He could still feel the heat of Adrian’s hand on his skin, a lingering warmth that felt strangely inviting. Annoyingly so.

Did this human not know that you did not touch an incubus if you did not want to become his meal?

"You should be glad I was following you!" Adrian insisted. "I just saved your life! You were about to walk into traffic."

"Traffic?" Knox gestured toward the stream of metal carriages. "Is that what you call this chaos?"

Adrian ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "It’s called a road," he said, his voice tight. "And those are cars. You know, automobiles? Internal combustion engines? Basic twentieth-century technology?"

"There’s nothing basic about this." Knox shook his head. "There’s no magic in these… contraptions. No enchantments, no living energy."

Adrian’s gaze narrowed. "Look," he said, taking a step back, "I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but it’s not funny. You’ll get yourself killed if you keep that up."

"I’m not playing any kind of game." Why would Adrian not understand that? How could Knox make him understand? He took a closer look at the human, and noticed something that made his breath catch. "Where did you get that?" He reached out to the silver pendant Adrian wore on a necklace. A crescent moon intertwined with a thorny vine. It was the mark of the Night Court, the emblem worn by the prince Knox had once sworn loyalty to.

Back when he’d been all incubus.

"That symbol…" Knox’s fingers brushed against the pendant, feeling its cool smoothness against his skin. No magic emanated from it, but the recognition sent a jolt of something through him. "Where did you get this?"

Adrian flinched back. "It’s just… merchandise. I got it at a convention."

Knox stared at him. "Merchandise?" He shook his head, his frustration mounting. "This is no mere trinket. It represents centuries of lineage, of power." Sadly, it also represented the abuse of power. Generations of Knox’s family had served the Night Court faithfully, proudly…

But it had become corrupt.

Adrian licked his lips. "Actually, you can get one of these for five bucks on Etsy."

"Who is this Etsy you speak of? Is she a witch?" Even as Knox voiced his question, he knew that couldn’t be. There weren’t likely to be any witches around in a world like this.

That thought gave him pause.

Had he truly been transported to another world somehow?

But why?

"Look," Adrian said, "Maybe you should come back with me. You’re clearly confused."

Confused was an understatement.