Truthfully, I adored the outright befuddled look on her face when I understood her pop culture references and rose to meet them with my own. She never expected it, and my little secret was well worth the joy it gave me to shock my little mate. Something that might endear me to her.
One could only hope.
My growing interest in her realm hadn’t been intentional at first. I’d been searching for Hera for a long time, in both this realm and theirs. The Mother of Shadows could travel between all the realms at will, and it made it frustratingly difficult to locate her.
I always seemed one step behind.
The suddenness of a powerful group run primarily by humans had my attention for several hundred years, though I couldn’t directly connect it to Hera until whispers of a hybrid with powers few Fae kind could do reached my ears. As much as it bothered me to acknowledge it, what I knew about V before she froze time was insufficient.
She was made to be a weapon, and a weapon she was.
It wasn’t long before V stilled and, if not for our bond, I would’ve been convinced death had taken her. She might have Fae blood, but she had just as much vampire in her. Just as much human…
Her breathing ceased, her heart slowed, and for all the hours I stayed awake beside her, she slept like the dead.
I wouldn’t sleep. I’d consume a daily tonic meant to keep me at full strength and absent the effects of limited rest so I could see the Season through with her. Unfortunately, it dulled my superior senses, so I’d need to keep her close wherever we were. It was a vulnerability I couldn’t afford.
I only had four weeks to convince her she was as much mine as I was hers. A bond with someone from the Nether clan wouldn’t fully form if she didn’t. Until she did, our connection would be susceptible to outside influence. She could be taken from me if I wasn’t careful, and that was a fate worse than death. I’d been searching for thousands of years, for what felt like an eternity, for my other half, and here she was…
The weapon Heracreated to finally destroy me and my brothers for good. My happily ever after or my assured destruction, and my brothers knew it.
But what they didn’t understand was it didn’t matter what my little mate did, because without her, I wouldn’t want to live anymore. Losing her was as good as dying now that I’d found her, and it was why I was willing to strike the Fae contract no matter the terms. It didn’t matter what I had to do; I’d convince her to be mine.
Her future relied on it, too.
My own bloody brother was one such reason I couldn’t risk unconsciousness. I needed to ensure he didn’t do something stupid and harm my mate or her human friend. I’d made a promise, and I intended to keep it.
I wasn’t blind. Even without her proclamation, I sensed her attachment to the human and what she’d do if anything happened to her. It was why I insisted on the human being here. I could protect her better inside my domain.
The Original’s words cycled through my head.“She’ll give her a reason to blame you. Hera will make sure of it.”
The Royal Siren escaped her imprisonment at the hands of her initial captor, and no surprise, she didn’t even know it. Lyra had been convinced it was us who’d sold her to the humans in V’s realm. Lies meant to keep her compliant and useful.
Lying came naturally to Hera, as it did to anyone corrupted by chaos, as opposed to us Nether Fae. We couldn’t bend the truth the way she could no matter what that truth did to us. It was a secret my brothers and I kept since Hera and the Originals wiped out our clan. It was a weakness our enemies would most certainly exploit, and one only Hera and Lyra knew. They’d taken advantage of it that day. It was the reason Dagon rarely spoke. Couldn’t exploit what didn’t exist.
It wasn’t any wonder who convinced Lyra we were her enemies. In truth, we were, but not for the reasons Hera told her. Not because we attacked them unprovoked. If not for Hera, we would’ve kept to our own territory. And despite the endless theories over the millennia, it was Hera who wiped out her own kind.
She’d destroyed her competition and quite possibly her executioners under the guise of coercion. Had they known why she was being hunted by us, they might’ve been the ones to offer her in exchange for mercy. I sought revenge, but only against the ones who deserved it. The Originals and those who helped kill my clan that horrible day.
Nothing more and nothing less.
Unfortunately, Hera was clever. She made it appear the coercion had been too powerful and extended to more than the ones I demanded. It was the only reason she escaped notice for so long. I’d been convinced my ability worked, if not a bit too well. It was only until I crossed paths with the one they now called Monster of the Realm and who’d regrettably bonded with my matethat I realized it could be broken.
I didn’t get much from Hera’s pawn. Lyra had swallowed the only poison that could kill their kind before I could coerce her mind into giving us more information, and her secrets died with her. Lyra took Hera’s current location and plans with her to the grave, but my suspicions were growing now that V was here—the hybrid I’d thought a myth and fabrication.
I put my book down and nearly came out of my skin when my little mate stirred. I waited on bated breath to see if she’d wake. Her little moan of distress brought my frantic eyes over to her, worried I’d missed something in our connection. But thankfully, it only appeared to be the Season causing her discomfort.
Her skin was flushed and her abrupt breathing haggard. She went on her back, arching. I watched as if caught under a witch’s spell. Fate had delivered such a delicious mate to me, and I’d been fraught with temptation all day.
I reached out to touch her, but her sharp intake stilled me. Hand hovering, I waited for her eyes to shoot open, but she only turned over. Her little arm went around my waist, and the stirrings of our bond intensified with her surprisingly warm skin against mine, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
It had been weeks since we made the connection, and proximity was only worsening the urges. But V fought the Season harder than any Fae I’d ever known. Better than the Nether clan who had an advantage against such things. Our control was boundless, but even we fell prey to the urges.
This little hybrid had denied it all day, and in her slumber, no less. Something I couldn’t say for myself.
I suffered desperate acts to soothe it—holding her close while we flew and ensuring my skin touched hers, grabbing her chin in mock dominance, brushing against her in weak moments, fusing my magic into the chemise she wore so the transference gave me a taste of that soft flesh that was on par with running my fingers over it.
V made fighting the Season and our bond seem effortless. Even as I felt the intensifying struggle in her, she remained calm and distant. A feat so few could claim. One that made it impossible for me to sway her with pleasure.
