Page 71 of Cryptic Dreams
You Can’t Outrun Destiny
WRAITH
After properly destroying the majority of the first floor of my house, I all but collapse onto the remains of one of the high back loungers in the sitting room. With a grunt, I kick at the motionless body of one of my father’s supporters, my loafer-clad feet rolling him on top of hispartnerbefore I use them both as a stool.
The males—both of whom I recognized from their pursuit of us the other night—made the mistake of waiting in the backyard of my home, hiding rather poorly under the Weeping Willow behind my house, and the moment I scented them it wasgame on, so to speak.
I took form right next to their crouched positions, waited a few moments for them to notice me, then I dragged the bastards into my home to make them my next play things.
Play things who had no idea what they were walking into or what kind of monster they’d find when they came to babysit the next high elder.
It’s only been about an hour since I left her, but the all-consuming pain I feel in my chest over the relatively final separation from Zephyr has already planted roots and begun to grow like weeds.
It is for the best, that I know.
I am a danger to her in every way possible, ways I hadn’t even shared with her yet, and pushing her away from me was the only thing I could do to keep her safe.
It bloody well fucking hurts, though.
So much so that I don’t think the liquor I’ve been consuming will even take the edge off but I can’t take it back now, can’t change her opinion of me, nor would I, given the chance.
Her safety is priority one and if rejecting our bond—rejectingme—is what guarantees that, so be it.
The male on top of the stack at my feet groans and begins to shift a little, and I tilt my head to the side and watch as I take another swig from the bottle in my hand.
I can have her things packed up and sent to Orion’s, assuming that’s where she’ll be until Zephyr finds other housing arrangements. I’ll even send the fancy machine of death since I’ll never be able to drink espresso again without picturing the tiny porcelain cup in her lovely hands as she brought it to her smiling lips.
Daft.
Daft prick that entertained the possibility of having love, of mating such a divine creature and promising her the world.
My anger spikes at that, over how completely absurd I behaved, how insane it was to allow the thought to cross my mind let alone voicing it aloud to my mate. I may have gotten her hopes up, but I damn well actually gave myself some too, then sent it completely out of orbit for the both of us.
To think, I even started entertaining the idea ofyoung.
A low growl rumbles from my chest as both males begin to stir and without even thinking, I lunge for the one on top.
“You, myfriend,” I sneer as I flip him to his back and straddle him, my father’ssoldierblinking up at me with wide terrified eyes. “You chose the wrong bloody day to take up watch over my personal home.”
Without one ounce of hesitation, I smash my decanter into the side of his head, watching intently as his flesh splits, as blood pours over the wounds that I made when he first arrived. I raise my arm again and bring the heavy crystal down on his skull, grinning a touch as bits of bone come away from his head as I lift my weapon again.
“It is not fair,” I growl, my free hand moving to his throat as the male attempts to fight back. “Nearly fifteen hundred years on this godforsaken planet and now,nowis when the Gods of Old choose to gift me with a mate.”
My fist closes around his windpipe, my blunt nails digging into his skin as the male tries to get away, and I let him. I don’t let go, don’t remove myself from his body but I allow the pathetic piece of trash to crawl backward in the direction of the doorway in hopes he might make it.
Not likely.
“Are you mated?” I ask the terrified bastard. “Bonded to your perfect match?”
He simply blinks at me while he continues scurrying away, trying to escape his imminent death by prying my hand from his throat. But he does not answer, and that will not do.
“You will tell me…” Leaning in close enough for our noses to touch, the tips of my fingers puncture his flesh, my knuckles sinking inside one by one and as I squeeze his windpipe from the inside out, he begins to nod his head. “You are mated then, yeah? Any young from your bond?”
Another emphatic nod.
And I grin like the fucking devil I am. “I’ll make sure to send them a lovely little bouquet expressing my condolences.” With one sharp tug, I rip out the male’s windpipe and toss it aside before driving the broken decanter straight through his heart. “One that will be stuck between your broken jaws still attached to your severed head.”
Movement from the other side of the room draws my attention and momentarily ruins the little thrill killing him brought on and when I turn to see his partner pulling himself up by the arm of the busted couch, I smile.
