Roots Of Rage (Transfusion Saga #9) - Stephanie Hudson



This was what I faced.

It was what I was told; that I needed to overcome the heart and tears of a God. But through this God’s rage for injustice, a creation like no other had been born. A force formed from the anger of men and one which had sparked such power, that it had forged the Crimson Eye. A seeing glass into the souls of those it chose worthy enough to use. A key to unlock the door into the future, made by the deep and rooted feelings of the God of time and someone who believed he’d had the power to change it.

That was his lesson to learn…

Some doors were just never meant to be opened.

Because time was a dangerous thing and the one who held the power to wield it was the one who had the power to destroy the very Fates that were supposed to guide us into continued existence. And all because a God’s heart bled for humankind, whilst another was playing puppeteer with rotting souls.

One power born from the Afterlife living for today’s future.

And another, from the heart of Hell,

One made from the…

Roots of Rage.

Chapter One


Smoke and Mirrors

Days Earlier…

Here we go again.

Another fucking enemy at my door was something I needed like a fucking hole in the head! Yet here I was, facing another threat to the most important thing in my life, making me question had word somehow got out as to who Amelia was to me?

This made me think back to moments before when walking from the throne room after nearly killing the fucking shifter with a death wish. But I had to confess to the satisfaction when a certain redheaded, Scottish asshole walked through my throne room doors and had no choice but to be forced to see the object of his desires sat on my lap, encased in my arms. But of course, I was far from a fucking saint and even though I would not admit as much to Amelia, I had orchestrated this very moment, knowing of the shifters’ request to speak with their King.

The bastard needed to be put in his place…Amelia was mine. I also didn’t give a fuck how primitive or possessive the statement sounded, for I answered to no man. Not even that of my maker…not anymore. No, now I was a free soul and I had worked hard to claim as much.

Speaking of which,

“They appeared from within the Echoing Forest without warning,” Carn’reau said standing next to me with his winged beast waiting impatiently behind him. Its blood-thirsty nature was testing its ability to stay at its master’s command seeing as the enemy was within its sights and in its mind, ripe for the taking. His beast was one of great legend and the first of its kind, hence its unbeatable strength in battle. However, for Carn’reau, I knew the beast meant far more to him than I believed anything else in his life. For it was the only being he showed any heart towards at all.

The creature was known as a Zilant, and one that owed its very existence to the Dark Fae Prince. It was also the only one that currently resided in Hell as it was another elemental being. And, other than his army, the only thing he brought with him after being cast out of his own realm. From what I could gather, it was the closest thing to family he had left and seeing the way he whispered in his own tongue back at it, was testament to this.

It was also a language he didn’t believe I knew, so the caring and soothing words didn’t come as a surprise to me. Not when they had been ones I had heard spoken before to the beast.

But then I also knew the benefits as a ruler when allowing those around you to believe what you wanted them to. It was also how I knew that Carn’reau was completely loyal to me, for I had heard him speaking to his men of this in his own tongue. After all, he was nearly as powerful as my brother and I, and with his own army would have had no problem trying to overthrow my rule. Especially with how little time I spent here.

However, this was not the case. No, instead he took my orders and acted on them with the loyalty of a man who owed his life to me, which he did. For without my acceptance of him then he wouldn’t have