Nox, p.1
NOX, page 1
part #3 of The Royal Protector Academy Series
Nox
Copyright © 2018 by Randi Cooley Wilson
All rights reserved. Thank you for purchasing an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without written permission of the author or publisher.
Published by SECRET GARDEN PRODUCTIONS, LLC
Editing by:
Liz Ferry at Per Se Editing
Cover design © Hang Le
Interior Design & Formatting by:
Christine Borgford at Type A Formatting
NOX (A Royal Protector Academy Novel, Finale)
Randi Cooley Wilson
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition January 2018
ISBN-13: 978–1519394255
ISBN-10: 151939425X
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
THE ROYAL PROTECTOR ACADEMY NOVELS
VERNAL
AEQUUS
NOX
THE REVELATION SERIES
REVELATION
RESTRAINT
REDEMPTION
REVOLUTION
RESTORATION
THE DARK SOUL SERIES
STOLAS
VASSAGO
LEVIATHAN
HAVENWOOD FALLS NOVELLAS
COVETOUSNESS
INAMORATA
GYPSY HEART
Table of Contents
NOX
ALSO BY RANDI COOLEY WILSON
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1 ~ BEAUTIFUL MESS
Chapter 2 ~ THE SPACE BETWEEN
Chapter 3 ~ DARK KNIGHT
Chapter 4 ~ BIRD IN A CAGE
Chapter 5 ~ THE RETURN
Chapter 6 ~ WAR OF HEARTS
Chapter 7 ~ THE DARKNESS
Chapter 8 ~ FIGHT OR FLIGHT
Chapter 9 ~ PAPER THIN
Chapter 10 ~ SALT IN THE WOUND
Chapter 11 ~ LOVE LIKE OURS
Chapter 12 ~ SILENT ROOM
Chapter 13 ~ FIRE & ICE
Chapter 14 ~ IN THE END
Chapter 15 ~ BLOOD MOON
Chapter 16 ~ BATTLE SCARS
Chapter 17 ~ FIRST BREATH
Chapter 18 ~ RESCUE ME
Chapter 19 ~ ENDLESS
EPILOGUE
STOLAS | A DARK SOUL SERIES NOVEL
COVETOUSNESS A HAVENWOOD FALLS NOVELLA
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For anyone who told me I could not,
because I did.
The calm had brought a sort of courage and hope with it.
Instead of giving way to thoughts of the worst,
he actually found he was trying to believe in better things.
Frances Hodgson Burnette
The Secret Garden
TRISTAN GALLAGHER
Prince of the Woodland Realm and Heir to the Paris Clan of Gargoyles
A word of advice:
When you are the heir to a legacy,
always read the fine print on the family crest.
Because the symbol alone will seduce you.
It will lure you in—have you believe that you are invincible.
Yet, it’s in the smallest of print where you learn of the true duties
and obligations of your rise to power.
Honoring bloodlines comes with great sacrifice,
none greater than to sacrifice in the name of love . . .
I NEED TO GET THE FUCK out of here. As I take in the damage to Serena’s bedroom, a dark, ugly sigh escapes me.
The destruction I’ve caused feels symbolic—like I’ve ruined the last part of humanity the gargoyle princess created in me. And in its place is an empty shell of the being I might have become, but no longer wish to be.
Her room at the Royal Protector Academy mirrors my current emotional state—ripped apart. Gutted. Destroyed.
Exhaling roughly, I attempt to clear the dismal thoughts threatening to push me further into this black hole of despair. I rub my hands over my face and remind myself that I don’t wallow in self-pity.
Protectors take control of the situation.
Seek revenge.
And endlessly fight for what’s ours.
With a final decision, I turn to my brother and best friend, Zander. I study his face, longing for a simpler time—when we were children, running carefree among the forest through my mother’s realm—instead of the nightmare we’re facing.
Zander was once the second in command to the woodland realm’s royal guard, under our father, Rionach.
After Rionach’s death, he was to step in as commander of the Lion Guard. That was before I renounced the throne, giving up my satyr birthright to become the king—for her.
Given Zander’s pure satyr bloodline, my brother will make a more noble king for the realm. He understands the kingdom’s needs more than I ever could. And honestly, at his core, Zander is a much better being than I will ever be.
Even so, it’s written all over his face. He doesn’t want to be the king of the woodland realm any more than I did. And now that we’ve assumed reign and protection of the water realm, he’s got that much more to rule over.
He’d much rather lead my army and protect me.
The irony in all this is that he can’t protect me.
No one can. Because the gargoyle blood that runs through my veins won’t allow me to be part of that world anymore. Neither will my love for Serena St. Michael, the heir to the gargoyle race. My reason for existing.
“Set up the meeting.” My tone is final as I change the course of my fate forever.
Zander dips his chin at my declaration before reluctantly taking his leave. Once the door is closed, my focus darts around, landing on the remains of Serena’s bed.
A vision—a distant memory of promises made between us—hits me hard in the gut, like a punch.
“I can feel it, Tristan. We’re becoming something else. Something bigger than we even know.”
“Maybe it’s time to walk away, then,” I mutter.
“Let me in.” She whispers the plea.
I wince. “Why? You’ll leave me. Hurt me.”
Her eyes water with unshed tears as she shakes her head back and forth. “I won’t.”
“Everyone else has, Serena.”
“I’ll fight for you in a way that no one else ever has.”
Her ghost flickers in and out, triggering another memory. A conversation we shared before she disappeared.
“Tell me this is real,” she pleads. I’m afraid that this . . . unknown shadow is going to descend on us and take you away from me. Leaving me alone.”
My fingers stroke her cheek as I stare at her intensely, allowing my thumb to run across her bottom lip. “Trust me,” I whisper, “nothing is going to happen to me, or you.”
I release a bark-laugh at the promise. It was a lie then. And after what I just instructed Zander to do, it’s a lie now.
With a firm resolve, I walk toward the door and yank it open. Zander is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His expression is one of concern mixed with determination. Relief floods through me, knowing he did it.
I pull out a cigarette, light it, and inhale deeply. It’s been months since I’ve had one. My eyes close as the nicotine invades my head, relaxing the edginess rattling inside me.
After a moment, my lids slide open and with an exhale, I lock my attention on my brother. “You ready for this?”
“You’re smoking again?” Zander accuses, eyeing me.
“Are you going to lecture me?” I challenge.
After a quiet moment, he shakes his head. “I suppose when the love of your life goes missing and you’re about to make a deal with the devil, a cigarette is a trivial matter.”
I shake off the reminder of what we are about to do and take long strides toward the front door of Serena’s suite, with Zander following closely behind. He shadows my steps protectively, having my back—like he has my entire life.
He taps my shoulder, causing me to face him.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Wants and needs are interchangeable at this point.”
He frowns. “What about your future?”
We fall silent for a moment as I take another long hit off my cigarette, blowing out my words on the heavy trail of smoke. “I have no future without her, Zander. I’d rather have Serena live a long existence hating me for what I did to protect her, than have her not exist at all.”
Zander scoffs. “You’re an idiot.”
“I love you too, man.”
“I mean it. That girl is head over heels in love with you,” he points out. “Which is why, when Serena finds out that we did this, she is going to punch us both in the face. You for doing it and me for allowing you to do it.”
“Then we’ll make sure she gets both our left sides, so our bruises match,” I reply, motioning for him to walk through the open door.
He does so, mumbling something under his breath about being too good-looking to be sporting bruises.
With a final look around her suite, I close the door and officially walk away from the past—to give her a future.
The sleek black car drives up to the edge of the darkened meadow. With the press of a button, Zander shuts off the engine, but keeps on the headlights.
As we w ait, I take in the pitch-black grassland in front of us. The only sign of life is a few shadowed cattle swinging their tails as they chew the dry desert grass.
My attention falls to the clock on the dashboard—it’s an hour past midnight. Above us, the stars dance and sparkle brightly in the night sky.
Even the moon keeps its eyes on us tonight. Its whitish slivers cut through the inky darkness surrounding us.
“Why here?”
“It’s near Kur,” I reply.
“Of course, he would make us wait in a field of cow shit. Fucking asshole,” Zander grumbles from the driver’s seat.
“He’ll show his face when he is ready to,” I advise.
Zander looks around, his features scrunching as he examines our surroundings. “Another uninspired shithole.”
My brother hates visiting the earth realm. He prefers the beauty and glamour of our home in the woodland realm.
His face suddenly becomes tight as his focus locks on to three figures appearing out of thin air. In silence, we watch the crimson auras approach, gliding in a V shape toward us.
“Here we go,” I mutter, and we open the two front car doors, sliding out and stepping in front of the vehicle, breaking up the headlights’ beams.
Casually, I lean back on the hood and cross my arms, calmly waiting while the beings come to us. Zander stands in a warrior pose at my side—ready to fight and protect.
“It is not often I am summoned by a satyr prince.” The deity’s old-world-accented voice booms in the silence.
I don’t acknowledge the tone of his words, which make it sound as if I am a lesser being. There is no need to prove myself anything other than what this piece of shit assumes me to be. He knows why we are here; the deal has been laid out.
He stands tall, long black hair blowing in the night breeze. His hard, rectangular face is pulled into a tight expression as he watches me. The Hispanic man to his left and Asian female to his right each keep an eye on Zander and me, disdain and loathing etched into their features.
“Your fast rise to power in the underworld has been impressive,” I state. “The hushed rumblings of your justice- over-mercy approach have made you a god in their eyes.”
“My bloodlines make me a god, satyr prince. My creed is a simple warning for those I hunt and extinguish,” he responds with an air of arrogance.
Peering at the three warily, I assess them. There is something about all of this that rubs me the wrong way, a gut feeling that at the end of all this, it is all going to go to shit, but I have no choice. I’ll pay any cost to protect her.
I stare at him, and he at me. A power struggle at its finest has the two of us evaluating one another, untrusting.
“You look a little worse for the wear, satyr prince.”
I grant him an unfriendly smile. “Sleep eludes me.”
The female narrows her eyes, sliding her gaze to Zander. “From the looks of it, your army’s commander has been getting his beauty rest. Then again, Zander, you always were a pretty boy,” she taunts in a seductive voice.
Zander’s smirk has a wicked undertone. “You never complained about my looks when I was between your legs, Tova.” Christ. Is there anyone my brother hasn’t bedded?
“Fuck you.” Her expression is one of pure fury.
The Hispanic guy grabs her, preventing her from leaping forward and attacking my brother.
“Enough of the pleasantries,” the guy holding Tova growls out, annoyed with the drama simmering.
“Helios commanded my presence,” the leader states in a deep, authoritative voice. “No doubt, at Aoife’s request,” he adds.
I don’t respond to his unconcealed displeasure at being called upon by the sun god to meet Zander and me.
“To be clear, I am not a hellhound. I don’t come when beckoned. Especially when summoned by my brother’s nymph whore. A brother whom I despise with a passion.”
My lips press together. I know better than to defend the honor of my old lover, Aoife, a magical tree sprite.
In our world, nymphs, especially mistresses of deities such as the god of the sun, are second-class entities.
“Then why are you here, Nox?” I growl out.
Nox stands deathly still, his eyes black orbs burning into me, filled with intrigue and vengeance. A look I’m sure has struck fear into the heart of many a dark-souled being.
“I owe Helios a debt.” The deity’s voice is lined with disgust. “Acceptance of your task is my repayment to him.”
The muscle in my jaw tightens as I try to keep my breathing controlled—striving for a cool indifference to all of this. If I were a better man, a better being, I would walk away from this deal and find another way to keep Serena safe. But I’m not. The truth is, I’ll pay any price, suffer any cost to make sure she is protected. Even this.
“The terms are clear then?” I confirm.
Nox’s mouth twists into a suggestive smile. “The terms of our oath are clear, satyr prince,” Nox announces. “And just so there are no misunderstandings, once I have eliminated the dark-souled threats to your princess and her race, you will make good as you have promised.”
I pull out my dagger and slice open my palm, allowing the crimson liquid to rise to the surface. “I swear my oath to the gods. If I break my vow, I pray that I may die and return to the land from which my bloodline was created.”
Nox releases his dagger from its sheath. A snake coils around the onyx handle as he, too, slices his palm, allowing the gold liquid the deity carries in his veins to seep out.
Without hesitation, he slides his hand over mine, mixing our bloodlines—the god of night and the prince of the woodland realm—sealing my fate and our pledges.
“Your prayer is a waste of breath. Betray me, satyr prince, and I will not rest until not only do you cease to exist, but also the entire protector and satyr races,” Nox threatens.
Within seconds, the three deities disappear, leaving Zander and me alone in the pitch-black field, the moon now hidden behind darkness. It must have sensed my sealed fate and, saddened, gone into hiding—like I should probably do.
As my wound heals, I wipe the small amount of mixed blood still lingering on my skin onto my jeans.
“You don’t have to do this,” Zander says bitterly.
“It’s done.”
“You can undo it,” he barks. “You can save Serena another way. This way . . . will break her heart and spirit.”
“She’s resilient and capable of surviving whatever is thrown at her. Serena St. Michael is the heir to the gargoyle throne. She was born to rule. Her bloodline alone dictates her endurance.” My response is automatic, harsh, unfeeling.
His eyes narrow in disapproval. “Heed my warning,” Zander says with icy vehemence. “Because this oath is going to come back to haunt you when you spill all of our blood.”
With my other hand on the handle of my dagger, I sigh and lower my voice. “As my brother, I need you to trust in me. Rest assured, the only blood I spill will be my own.”
Frustrated, he roars into the darkness before calming enough to say, “You’re so damn arrogant.”
“That I am.” I wink at him. “Now, let’s go grab Magali.”
“Why?” he barks at me.
“We have one final stop to make this evening.”
“Where?”
“England. The London clan’s flats.”
Tristan
IT’S BEEN SAID THAT THE DARKNESS you know is better than the darkness you don’t. Icy pinpricks of dread and adrenaline wage war with my constant fatigue. The throbbing ache of Serena’s absence drags me into my dark thoughts. The voices inside my head mock me. Reminding me of my failures.
Serena and I were young and naïve to think that love trumps all. It doesn’t. Love is blinding. And destructive.
Outside, lightning crashes and thunder rumbles. But even the rain can’t wash away the damage we’ve created.
Sighing, I attempt to quiet the mocking whisper in my head. I know she’s gone, yet I swear I hear her soft murmur calling to me. Pleading with me to bring her home, which I am trying my damnedest to do. “Hang on, raindrop.”
“Tristan?” Zander prompts.
I blink, slowly coming out of my own mind as I absorb my surroundings. After a measured moment, I push away the trepidation clutching my chest caused by the gargoyle princess’s absence. With each passing day, the empty space beside me, where she should be, elicits more anger and hurt.
