Free Retribution (Redemption Series) by R.K. Ryals

ring?
    "What?" I whispered.
    I was outside a village, a quiet
village, men moving slowly about as they moved from a
half-finished structure I recognized instantly. It was the pyramid Marcas had helped build. There were fires in the distance
as well, and the smell of strange foods being cooked.
    I didn't know what to do so I began to
walk. I had only taken two steps when I heard the moan. I turned quickly, my
eyes searching the desert. The moan came again. And then there he was. Marcas .
    "Oh, my
God!" I exclaimed.
    He was chained to a large boulder,
shirtless and shoeless with ripped jeans slung low on his hips. He looked sun
burnt, and his lips were parched. I reached for him.
    "Dayton," he whispered, his head hanging as I placed a hand against his
arm, moving it up his burning skin carefully.
    His powers were useless here, and I knew
from the blistered skin, the parched lips, and his swollen bare feet that the
moon above us was only temporary.
    "Where are we? What have they done
to you?" I asked.
    Marcas ' eyes met mine,
and I knew by their red glow that he was in pain. A lot of pain.
    "Set Maat ,"
he answered.
    It was the village he had told me about
in Egypt when I had asked him about his cobra tattoo. I had a hard time
wrapping my head around his words. We were in Set Maat . Set Maat ?
      We were standing in ancient Egypt, staring at
a distant village that had once been Marcas '
sanctuary after Sophia had chosen Heaven over him. I looked at the village, the
warm fires, the shadowy figures moving to and fro.
    "The people here didn't do this to me.
They aren't real. It's a mirage. The Seal is doing it. This whole thing isn't
real."
    When I looked back, Marcas '
eyes were closed, squeezed shut against the scene, and I moved in front of him.
It was the worst punishment imaginable, placing a weak man who thought he had
lost his second love in front of a village he once sought sanctuary in. He
would burn during the day and weather the cold at night all while staring at
the men he had once labored next to, at the fires where he had once sought
warmth and friendship. It was the village that had healed him. It was the same
village being used to destroy him.
    "Look at me," I said, my hands
coming up to cup his strong face.
    Here was a man who was constantly at war
with himself, with his family, with his own people, and he was still fighting.
Even chained to a rock in the middle of an illusionary desert, I could see the
resolve in his gaze.
    "I came to get you out," I
whispered.
    His eyes met mine.
    "There is no way to release a Demon
from the Seal," Marcas replied. "I'm in
here by choice, Dayton."
    It was a bad time to ask, but I asked it
anyway.
    "Why, Marcas ?
Why? For me?"
    I left my hands on his face, the stubble
on his jaw a comforting reminder that despite the fact that he was a Demon, he
was also part man. Immortal man, but a man nonetheless. His jaw tightened
against my palm.
    "Once, a very long time ago, I
would have said it was for me."
    Marcas would always
consider himself a monster. I didn't know a lot about
his past, about the people he'd killed, about the things he'd done, but I knew
the man in front of me now didn't deserve to be here. He'd saved a lot of
lives, had fallen in love, lost that love, protected me, and then hopefully
fallen in love again. I was banking on the fallen in love again part.
    "And
now?" I asked.
    Marcas ' eyes searched
mine.
    "All for
you."
    It was the most romantic thing he could
have said, and I grinned.
    "Then I'm getting you out of here
for me. For me . I need you out of here. Just trust me
on this."
    His gaze moved over me, that unreadable,
absolutely aggravating gaze that annoyed me so much one moment then set me on
fire the next.
    "My choice,
Dayton."
    I narrowed my eyes.
    "And this is mine."
    With those words, I reached for a
smaller rock on the ground below our feet. It wasn't as sharp as I wanted it to
be, but it would have to do.
    "Dayton . . ." Marcas growled.
    I ignored him,