So I get out of bed slowly, the delicious pull of my muscles causing a pleasurable ache in every inch of my body as I pad quietly toward the door.
I stretch as I walk down the hall and peek in the bathroom and my darkroom, looking around the darkened kitchen and living room.
Zan's not here.
Not inside anyway, because I can still feel him close by, but I don't know why he'd be outside right now.
Thor is having a sleepover with Daisy Mae, so it's not like Zan is out by the pigpen and since it's so fucking late, technically early in the morning, I doubt he's outside chatting with Colt or someone else.
I grab his dress shirt from the back of the couch and pull it on, button it enough so no one gets a look at the goods in case Zan isn't alone, then step out onto the porch.
No Zan.
My eyes scan the woods, search the trees out front, glance toward the overhang where both of our bikes are still parked.
I walk to one end of the tiny porch and look around the side of the cabin, but don't find him there, then walk to the other and that's when I hear the voice that makes my heart skip a beat.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Zan whisper-shouts as I reach the end of the porch and stop. "You should not be here."
"You do not get to tell me where I should and should not be,” another voice hisses, a terrifying voice that's almost two toned, an accent like Zan's only thicker and angrier. "I believe I am still the one in charge; therefore, I do whatever I please, especially when it comes to you."
Zan groans in frustration. "There is no need for you to be here now, not when I still have five days to complete your most gruesome request."
The other voice laughs, the sound horrible and malicious. "The Caster of Shadows Himself sent me to remind you that your final deadline is approaching. He wants a name, wants some kind of proof that you will complete what has been asked of you."
"And what does The Destroyer require as proof? How am I to prove something like that, short of giving him the soul He covets so desperately?"
I clutch my stomach and press my back against the front of the cabin.
This,thisis the fucking secret Zan is still keeping from me.
I'm not sure what they're talking about exactly, but I know for sure this is what my mate has been so reluctant to tell me, and that is definitely why I keep listening.
No shame in eavesdropping for this girl.
"A name. A plan. Anything to indicate that you will freely complete His task without me having to intervene. A gesture of good faith, if you will."
Zan growls. "I will do no such thing. We have a deal, a deal that is ironclad, one that cannot be changed again and it will be done by His deadline. There will be proof in that."
The other voice tsks, which is weird. "Ueltorrhzan, you disappoint me. I've always considered you to be smarter than most, more cunning than all. Do not insult my intelligence or The Destroyer’s by assuming the completion of your task will be proof enough. He wants something tangible, another promise that you shall see this through of your own accord and has sent me here to obtain it."
“Fine," Zan spits. "I shall give you one from my collection, a soul you have envied for ages, one The Caster of Shadows commissioned from me personally."
"I suppose that will suffice for now. It cannot be one that you have promised me for your many extensions, those five are mine, Ueltorrhzan,mine,and shall not return to The Destroyer before my time on this plane ends."
This has to be the guy Zan sort of told me about, thehe who shall not be namedthat is basically his boss, the one who dictates what he does and when he does it. This bastard is the one responsible for taking Zan's beautiful soul when it was born and torturing it for almost three hundred years.
This has to be him and that is exactly why I take a deep breath and peek around the side of the cabin to get a good look.
Something I'll regret once I start having nightmares about what I see.
My amazing mate stands just past the pigpen, naked and beautiful, but his big body is dwarfed by the creature standing just on the edge of the shadows in front of him.
A body well over seven feet tall, probably closer to eight; wiry, corded muscles covered in a deep rose gold almost red, kind of leathery looking skin, skin covered in markings sort of like Zan but more messy and a touch faded, even older than what my mate’s are, I'm assuming.
His limbs are unnaturally long, even for his height, fingers more like claws that protrude from his hands. His knees, fuck they're bony—all of his joints are really—sharp and overly defined but what makes them even creepier is the way that they're bent—his legs, relatively human in appearance, but bent at the knee and ankle like the hind leg of a goat or some other animal, his feet positioned in a way that forces him on tiptoe.
I watch this creature, thisthing,reach toward Zan, those bony talons stretched toward his stomach just before it begins to glow.
