It wasn’t enough for everyone, thus some Hell Fae had chosen to leave in pursuit of their own mates. However, most of those mates were not allowed safe passage through my gates.
The source was very selective. Only a handful of females had ever been granted entry into my kingdom, all of whom were tied to powerful male Hell Fae. Which likely explained the source accepting their presence.
But it was definitely not the norm.
Hence, the unique atmosphere in the club tonight.
Danger lurked among these walls, anticipation, too, as the men engaged in a different game of sorts. One with the ultimate prize waiting for them at the end.
A prize they could keep. Unlike the holograms that weren’t actually real.
But they certainly felt real when the right devices were engaged.
Not that I’d tried them myself. I had Melek for my pleasurable pursuits.
However, I did fancy the Hellfire Spirits—a drink that put any fae or mortal concoction to shame. A drink I now held in my hand as I wandered through the club to observe my subjects.
The space was large enough to house all eligible Hell Fae males who held stakes in the trials. And almost all of them were here.
Including Melek.
My magic powered the displays they all watched, providing me with a much-needed outlet for the power flourishing in my veins. I also lent my energy to empower the glorious ring of fire near the center of the club. The circle spanned around the central area I typically reserved for my throne on the raised platform.
I often sat there to observe my Hell Fae and make myself available for their questions and requests.
But I didn’t sit there today.
I just kept it lit to provide lighting in the club while they all observed their choice candidates in the trials.
The first test was not difficult—at least by my standards. Mirages were simple to create, and they were easy to see through if one was observant enough. It didn’t require magic. Only intuition.
Intuition that Camillia De La Croix seemed to possess in spades.
I watched her on the screen while sipping my Hellfire drink. Melek sat before me, aware of my presence at his back.
He calmly set his own drink on the volcanic stone table, but I sensed his agitation.
That sensation seemed to claw at the atmosphere in the room as others cursed when their candidates made choices that either disqualified them from the main events or caused them to perish indefinitely.
I didn’t pity the potential brides.
If anything, I envied them.
They lived in the moment. They knew only the fight to survive. Many of them were being given the chance to prove themselves—a chance I’d never had.
And those who blindly fled would be treated like cattle.
Slaughtered.
Or eaten.
Finishing my drink, I crunched down on a piece of ice. It instantly melted on my tongue against my ruthless heat.
A curse sounded from a nearby table. I didn’t bother looking. The whole point of this arrangement was to ensure my Hell Fae chose the right candidates. That required learning on behalf of my men and the females involved.
Quality mattered here.
Not quantity.
