My Dakor lunged and sank his fangs into Evan’s flesh. He raised his eyes to look at me one last time, then collapsed onto his side. I stood up and walked to the door as he struggled to resist the poison and stay conscious. “Now rest, Soldier,” I told him before closing the door. “The Games are about to begin.”

  UNFORGIVABLE INSULT

  A murmur brought me back to the light. “He’s so cute!” What had happened? Had Gemma really recalled an old memory? Or had it just been a dream?

  “Shh! Do you want to get yourself killed?”

  “Freia’s right. The mistress claimed him. You’re not allowed to say such things.”

  “Well, if she claimed him, why is she treating him like a prisoner?”

  “Be quiet! He’s coming to!”

  I struggled to emerge from the darkness. When I finally managed, the three young women smiled at me. “Welcome back,” one of them said. The others laughed, putting away some herbs which they must have used to wake me—they were still smoldering and my nostrils were full of the sweet, spicy odor.

  “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

  “I’m Emayn,” the liveliest of them said. “Her name’s Meryall, and she’s—”

  “We’re Mizhyas,” the last one said, cutting her off. “We need to prepare you for the Opalion.”

  I’d heard her name as I was waking up: Freia. “Why? This isn’t the first time I’ve taken part in the Games,” I told them. When I’d been a prisoner before I’d participated in them many times, in what they called the Circle, but I’d never needed any preparation. They’d simply thrown me into the arena and I’d battled to defend myself for as long as my strength held out.

  “This time it’s different. You were chosen by our mistress, so you’ll be battling as her Champion. She’s Sophìa’s Specter now, and today everyone will bow before her when they hear the news.”

  A pang of bitterness ran through me. It meant the devil in person had recognized the evil inside her. I sighed, thinking of the serpent’s bite. I’d suffered the torture it inflicted on me and its poison had hurt even more than Devina’s. “Where is she now?”

  “That’s none of your concern. She’ll come to you when it’s time.”

  I shook my head, trying to remember what was true and what I’d dreamed after losing consciousness. If Gemma was beginning to remember, maybe there really was hope. “Where are we?”

  “In the gymnasia around the Circle. All the other Champions are preparing as we speak.” I looked around. It was a well-lit room full of weapons and equipment. “Don’t even think about it,” Meryall warned me, thinking I wanted to make a break for it. “The panthers are already outside.”

  “I have no intention of escaping,” I reassured her.

  “Good, you’re better off that way,” Emayn continued. “I don’t know why my mistress is keeping you prisoner after choosing you, but this is a big opportunity for you and you’d be wise to seize it. You’re lucky. Our mistresses’ Champions are the only ones who enjoy certain privileges, if you know what I mean.” The maidservant winked as she spread salve on my arms. “On the other hand, if you rebel, you’re done for.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said, giving her a smile.

  “Don’t mention it. Here, eat these.” Emayn offered me a bowl full of seeds. I looked at them dubiously. “They might not taste like Ambrosia, but you can’t be fussy here. They’ll give you strength.”

  I swallowed them as the other woman, Meryall, smiled sheepishly. “Our mistress’s vital essence—that’ll definitely boost your strength.”

  “Gemma’s blood,” I murmured, remembering all the times I had refused Devina’s.

  “You have to drink it if you want to fight as her Champion. She’ll transmit her energy to you. If you win, she’ll personally train with you. It’s a great honor.”

  “How long has the Opalion existed?”

  “As long as Hell itself,” Emayn answered. “For fun, Sophìa also took it to Earth, though in a primitive version, without levels or enchanted scenarios—just battles and death. The mortals called the Games Munera, lethal battles among armed gladiators or even against animals, in which case they called them Venationes. The most famous of them were held at the Coliseum in Rome. I was there back then. I was a Mizhya to the Empress, along with Freia. You can’t imagine the atrocities mortals are capable of under the influence of a Witch.”

  “That’s enough talking,” Freia said. “Leave him be.” The whole time she’d been silent, busy with a mortar and pestle, engrossed in crushing black flowers to extract their poison, which she spread onto various weapons. Just touching them would have burned her flesh, and if she cut herself it would be the end of her.

  “Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “It’s not a problem.”

  “For you, maybe, but we know our place and we mustn’t forget.” Freia cast a glance at the other two maidservants who looked down before backing away.

  “They’ll come for you when it’s time. Meanwhile, I advise you to warm up your muscles.” She nodded at all the equipment. “In case we don’t see each other again, good luck.” The Mizhyas bowed and left the room, closing the massive wooden door behind them.

  I sat on the cot and looked around. The room was huge, with weapons and equipment of all kinds. There was still a trace of venom in my body. My muscles were burning and I knew what to expect in the Opalion. It was best I took the Mizhya’s advice and warmed up before the battles. I would have to fight bloodthirsty Souls captured during the Hunt, then a ferocious beast, and finally I would come up against one of their Champions. Whoever won would bring glory to his Amìsha and obtain her as a reward. The Witches claimed Subterraneans for their amusement, often sharing them with each other. The Champions, on the other hand, were the only ones to whom they gave themselves completely. And the only way to achieve that was to win the Opalion. But the Witches were lusty creatures, so the Opalion just happened to be held frequently. They were also capricious and competitive, which was why they held a Hunt before being able to satisfy their needs. One of them had to win it to become the Witch of Honor at the Opalion, which meant she became the “prize” and could lie with her Champion. Watching Subterraneans engage in mortal combat aroused them.

  If the competitor made it through the first two trials, a Sister challenged the Witch of Honor with her own Champion. Sophìa was the one to choose the challenger. If the rival Champion won, the Witch of Honor lost her title, passing it to her Sister, who could then lie with her own Champion and obtain glory and the envy of the others. At the end of the match, true victory didn’t belong to the Champion but to the Witch who’d outdone her Sisters.

  The Witch of Honor could send in whomever she wished, and Devina had always chosen me—a prisoner—though I refused to drink her blood to fight as her Champion. I fought for myself. I’d beaten all my adversaries except the challenging Champion—not because I hadn’t been capable, but because I preferred to be defeated rather than give Devina the satisfaction of seeing me win for her.

  This time it was different. The Opalion was being held in Gemma’s honor. She would be the prize and this time it meant only one thing to me: I had to win.

  I jumped off the cot and tested my hand muscles, opening and closing them. There were metal bars suspended from the ceiling, positioned at different heights. I went over to one of them and jumped up to grab it before slowly pulling myself up. I could feel my back muscles tighten with every pull, but the more I warmed them up the more my strength returned as my blood rid itself of the last remainders of the poison. I hoisted myself up and stood on top of the bar. In front of me wound a path all through the room, rising and falling at different heights. With a leap, I grabbed the next bar and used my abdominals to swing myself over to the next. I continued upwards, climbing and spinning through the air. Grabbing hold of a bar with my legs, I dangled my upper body to work my abdominals in a long series of pull-ups.

  “By Lilith, what a show.”

  I vaulted to the ground and grabbed a gladius from the wall, pointing it at Devina’s throat. She didn’t move, staring at me steadily with interest. “At ease, Spartan. The Games haven’t begun yet. You’ll have time to vent all your ardor.”

  “What do you want? Why are you here?” I snarled, still aiming the blade at her throat.

  “What silly questions. I’m here to enjoy the show, like everyone else.” She moved away from the weapon and circled me, moving her lips to my ear. “However, I was hoping to watch it from closer up.” She stroked my chest as I stood still, muscles tensed.

  “Gemma claimed me. You should know that,” I reminded her, clenching my jaw.

  “That doesn’t mean she can’t share you with me. We Sisters are very generous among ourselves. It’s part of our blood bond. I myself have shared my Soldiers with her many times,” she whispered in an attempt to provoke me.

  I spun around and pushed her against the wall, pressing my forearm against her throat. Her serpent emerged to threaten me but I didn’t move a muscle, continuing to look her in the eye. “Don’t you dare say that again.”

  Devina smiled. “You’re so sexy when you get rebellious.”

  “What’s going on?” I turned toward Gemma, who’d just entered the room. The sight of her left me transfixed. She wore a tremendously sexy black gown worthy of a queen of darkness.

  “I just stopped by to wish the new competitor good luck, but he turned out to be rather hostile,” Devina told her with a malicious air. I pressed my arm harder against her throat.

  “Let go of my Sister at once,” Gemma commanded me. I glared at Devina and she flashed me a smile. “Step away, I told you. Immediately.” I gave the Witch one last shove before loosening my grip and lowering my weapon. Gemma nodded at the gladius and it flew to her hand. “You don’t need this yet. Devina, leave us, please.”

  “Wait,” her Sister said. “I thought maybe you’d allow me to share the prisoner with you this time.”

  “He isn’t a prisoner. He’s my Champion.”

  “Not yet,” her Sister reminded her. “He hasn’t yet drunk your blood. He hasn’t battled and won for you. He’s not your Champion yet. You’re his Amìsha, that’s true—you claimed him—but he may be asked for by your Sisters as long as he’s a Soldier like all the others. And this is my last chance, is it not?”

  “I have no intention of going along with it,” I warned Gemma. “She’s a witch.”

  “We all are,” Gemma replied icily, “and you may not disobey me.”

  “After all, you owe me,” Devina insisted.

  Gemma reflected. “You’re right, dear Sister. It would be selfish of me not to share with you the Subterranean you hunted for centuries and I ultimately claimed.”

  “Gemma, what are you saying?” I protested in shock.

  She raised her chin and looked me straight in the eye. “So be it,” she declared.

  Smiling, Devina grabbed me roughly and flung me to the other side of the room. Seconds later I found myself on a large round bed hidden behind broad curtains. The red silk sheets contrasted with the black carbonado background. It was adorned with plush cushions and draperies that hung from the ceiling. I stared at the two Witches as they approached.

  “Do not disobey my command or I will not think your loyalty worthy,” Gemma warned.

  Devina dropped her long black cloak to the floor. She pulled out her faithful whip and rested her knee on the bed. I was petrified. I’d always rejected Devina and now Gemma was surrendering me to her. I looked her in the eye, hoping to find a trace of regret. “Is this really what you want?”

  Gemma climbed onto the bed and moved toward Devina. “It’s what we all want.” She touched her Sister’s lips with her own. “It is my gift to you, Sister,” she whispered.

  Devina smiled at her and came toward me, crawling sensually over my body. I never would have thought that one day she would make me her own, but she’d been very good at manipulating Gemma’s trust, and now I was forced to give in to her dirty tricks.

  The Witch brought her lips to mine and I indulged her, staring at Gemma, who didn’t take her eyes off us. I rested my hands on Devina’s hips and she brushed her whip across my chest. “I knew sooner or later this moment would come,” she murmured against my mouth. Pointing her fingernail at my bicep, she traced the scar she’d left on me the last time I’d been in Hell. “I’m a very nasty Witch. Punish me.”

  I grabbed her wrists brusquely and inverted our positions, trapping her on the bed. If they wanted to play, I would do it my way. Devina squeezed my buttocks and pulled me against her, moaning with pleasure. She undid my pants and sank her nails into my sides, scratching my skin.

  “Enough!” Gemma snapped, stopping her.

  “What’s the matter? Why don’t you come and have fun with us?” Devina said, irritated.

  My gaze locked onto Gemma’s. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said, still staring at me.

  “You can’t!” her Sister said, cracking her whip in the air. “You owe me.”

  “Evan, move aside,” she insisted, enunciating each word. Hearing my name on her lips again hit me straight in the heart. I rolled over, freeing Devina from my grip. The Witch looked furious. “Now get out,” Gemma ordered.

  “You can’t give me a gift and then take it back like this,” her Sister retorted, her pride wounded.

  “Yes I can. I’m the Specter now and you will obey me.”

  Devina got up from the bed and approached her Sister, defiance in her eyes. “Nïak suh hamet.” I didn’t speak the Witches’ tongue, but her tone was definitely full of resentment.

  “I’m telling you for the last time: get out of this room.”

  Devina bowed to her contemptuously. “Kaahmì.” That one word I knew well. I’d heard it often during my imprisonment. As you command. Without moving, Gemma held her gaze until she walked away. Before leaving the room, Devina turned to cast me one last glance and her lips mouthed the words Goodbye, Soldier. Then she leapt forward and turned into a panther, ready for the Opalion.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked Gemma. She turned her back on me but I grabbed her wrist and made her look at me. “Why did you stop Devina?” I insisted.

  Gemma looked away. “It was bad timing. The Games are about to start.”

  “You had another flashback,” I murmured. “You remembered something else, didn’t you?” I let go of her wrist.

  “I’ve already told you I care nothing about the past.” She moved away but I followed her and took her by the arm, forcing her to face me.

  “But I care.”

  Gemma broke free from my grip and slammed me against the wall, furious. But I knew what was hiding behind her anger: fear. She was starting to remember snippets of us and couldn’t explain what was happening to her.

  I wasn’t about to give up. I grabbed her and trapped her against the wall. “What did you see?” I insisted, holding her tight.

  “It’s your fault. What have you done to me?!” she snarled. “You’ve polluted my mind. Rid me of your poison!”

  “I’m your poison, and you’re mine. There’s no antidote for us. There’s nothing we can do,” I whispered against her lips and kissed her passionately. She struggled but I could feel her resistance waver and held her hands against the wall. She was aroused and I risked losing my head right there. Outside, an entire arena was waiting to watch me do battle. In there, I could have died of love just for her.

  “You’re a Subterranean. It’s normal for you to be in love with me,” she said, reading my mind.

  I cupped her cheek in my hand and stroked her lip with my thumb. She couldn’t hold back and brushed her tongue against it. “And you’re a Witch, so why do I set fire to your venom?”

  “I feel nothing for you.”

  I kissed her neck and her breath came faster. “Liar.”

  She grabbed my arms and a second later I was on the bed, Gemma straddling me. “All I want,” she purred, her voice sensual, “is for you to be my Champion.”

  “I’m ready to become your Champion.”

  “Receive my blood inside you,” she whispered, looking me in the eye. She bit her lip and leaned over me. I could hear her heart beating quickly, our breathing becoming one. “Taste me,” she whispered. I licked the blood from her lips, losing my mind, then closed my eyes, pervaded by a powerful feeling of ecstasy. She smiled and sank her nails into my shoulders as I kissed her again, hungry for her vital essence, a venom so powerful it broke through all my defenses.

  “Easy, Champion, or you’ll pass out.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. How long I’ve waited to touch you again, to feel your lips on mine . . .”

  “Fight for me. If you win the Games, you’ll have what you want for an entire night.”

  “I’m not willing to wait,” I said, determined. I slipped her daggers off from behind her back and tossed them onto the floor. She allowed me to take off her crossbow while looking me in the eye, probing inside me to discover my intentions. I pulled her against me and rolled over, pinning her to the bed. I nibbled her neck, her shoulder, descending toward her breast.

  “Stop,” she whispered, at the mercy of her emotions.

  “No.”

  “I command you.”

  “Your voice lies. It’s your body I’m listening to. Your lips.” I kissed her and she let herself be drawn in. “Your eyes.” I stroked her lashes with my thumb, gazing at her intently. I leaned over her ear and touched it with my mouth. “Your breath.” My hand slid over her breast and she looked at me, helpless. “Your pulse. Listen to how your heart is racing.”