Book 1 of The Courts of Daemonium.
Alexander 'Xander' Duran, the world's first Lamia, has been in charge of the Courts of Daemonium for decades. After being turned into a shadow-wielding, blood-thirsty Daemon in 1649 by Lilith, his only purpose in h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Xander entered the drawing room of Duran Manor, his footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor. He sighed as he took it all in, the high ceilings, the large windows, the furniture covered in white sheets.
He removed the sheet from the large circular table in the centre of the room and ran his fingers over the smooth wood. It had been a while since any of them had come back to Duran Manor, most of their business for the last twenty or so years had been in London, where the World Court headquarters was then created. But that was all gone now.
The country fell quickly, the government was taken over by the Liberators, the majority of the cities were being ransacked, Daemons were being forced to flee for their lives or face Rook's execution. Even though Rafael had tremendous support to take over from Katie, Rook held the nation with the fear he installed within them, and he rose to power easily.
They'd held a funeral for Katie, burying her in the grounds of the manor. Xander hated to admit that he didn't know if she had any family to contact, he hadn't ever thought to ask such trivial questions when they had spent so much time working to build a better future. A future that seemed to drift further and further away, a future that she would never see. He regretted not taking the time to know her more.
"Back where it all began," Deion's voice rang out from the doorway.
Xander peered over at him. "Back where it all started to become interesting, at least. But this was certainly not the beginning of our journey."
"I know, we've been at this far too long. I didn't realise not ageing would mean I'd never bloody retire."
Xander let out a small chuckle as he began to unstack the chairs from the corner of the room, bringing them round to tuck under the table. Deion gave him a hand, watching Xander's tense expression with concern.
"If you have something to say, Deion, just say it."
Deion sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh. "I worry about you, brother. I'm happy Adriana is back, I'm happy you get to have another chance, but I see the way you look at her. I know you never forgave yourself for what happened, and I know you likely never will."
"Get to the point," Xander quickly retorted as he placed the tenth chair round the table.
"My point is that you are stuck in your past, a past that almost destroyed you. You want a future with her, right? Then you need to find a way to move on."
Xander held on to the back of the chair next to Deion's, his brows furrowed in deep thought. He knew he loved Adriana, he had never stopped loving her, and he would do everything he could to prove that to her. But could he ever forgive himself for what he had done? Could she?
Voices from the hallway brought him out of his thoughts. He gave Deion a small smile, a silent promise that they would continue their conversation another time, as the room began to fill with the Court members.
