Bound By Fate: A Novel of the Strong

by Amy Knickerbocker

  “Forgive me,” he mouthed.

  Whipping out his hand, Merus caught a fistful of air and squeezed. A veil shuttered his eyes as his face fell free of all emotion.

  Balling his fist tight, he gave a merciless yank.

  Though her magic was strong, she was no Arman, no ancient being infused with paid-for magic intent on inflicting evil.

  With her nascent powers, Mandy didn’t stand a chance against him.

  She screamed in agony as Merus ripped the seams of the force field apart in her mind.

  As she fell to the ground, the gate swung open with a creak.

  Toran sprinted past.

  Following in his cousin’s path, Merus dropped to a knee and reached out to touch his witch’s shoulder.

  Crying out, Mandy shoved him weakly away.

  “I fucking hate you, daemon,” she sobbed.

  “I know you do, my love,” Merus sighed. He lifted his chin to peer out into the setting desert sun. “I know you do.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  At last inside the witch’s house, Toran charged upstairs, his every heartbeat straining to meet the staggering pull of his faine.

  He found her in the hallway, her shoulder to the wall, her face shielded by shadow.

  Toran rushed forward.

  Pushing off the wall, she stumbled away.

  Slowing his step, Toran raised his palms in surrender.

  “Liv,” he whispered as he chanced to step closer. “Please.”

  She stopped moving away but gave no answer.

  “You pulsed off plane.” Toran attempted a smile, hoping to ease the tension that thrummed between them. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “Yes,” she answered. She turned to face him. “Though I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do it again so soon.” Raising her head, her face was brave though her eyes brimmed with hurt. “But I know you need me… especially tonight.”

  “No,” he whispered, his heart stabbing in time with her pain. “It’s not like that. Not anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Unable to speak, he swept out his arms, his palms held forward. All he could do was open himself up to her––to let her feel all that it was he felt for her.

  And more.

  Taking in a soft breath, a light shined in her eyes for just the briefest of moments before fading away.

  A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Your crown.” Lifting her chin, she attempted a smile. “Of course you must take your crown.” Despite his lies, despite his deplorable behavior over the past few months, there was not the barest hint of censure in her bewitching gray-green eyes.

  Jabbing his fingers through his hair, Toran groaned.

  “I can’t renounce my crown, Liv,” he said. “I just can’t.”

  Since his near-mating at the hands of his uncle’s magic, Toran had been consumed by just two things. The first, and most important, was getting back to Liv. The second was trying to figure out whether or not he could square up the ironclad claims of fate.

  He could see only one way forward.

  Lowering his hands, he blew out a determined breath.

  “It’s time I fight,” Toran said. “It’s time I forge my own destiny––whatever that may be. If it’s winning my crown, so be it. If not…” he shrugged, still unable to process such a future. “But the only way I can do anything,” he took a cautious step forward, “is with you by my side.”

  “As your faine,” Liv countered in a toneless voice.

  “No, Liv. Not as my faine.” Reaching down, Toran took her hand in his. “As my wife.”

  “What?” Her eyes flashed, her shining face upturned to his.

  Cupping her cheek in his hand, Toran bent low and brushed a kiss against her lips. Pulling back just a little so that she could see the truth inside his eyes, he whispered, “I love you, Liv.”

  His whispered name upon her lips was all she answered.

  His heart beating wildly, he waited through the ensuing silence.

  And waited.

  “Do you love me?” he prodded at last.

  After what seemed like a lifetime, she nodded.

  He smiled.

  “Then say you’ll marry me.”

  “I’ll marry you,” Liv replied, the corner of her lips upturning into the beginnings of a smile. “But what about the prophecy? What about the future of your people?”

  “None of that matters right now,” Toran said in answer as he bent to take her mouth. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “But, Toran,” she insisted, ducking away from his seeking lips, “it says…”

  “It says ‘of like and purest’ blood,” a female’s voice called out from the top of the stairs. “And I believe not following that prophecy to the letter will damn Venn Dom for eternity.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Pulling Liv tight against his body, Toran turned to find Anara standing a few feet away.

  The doctor was watching them with soft and knowing eyes.

  He tightened his hold.

  “Never mind any of that, Anara,” Toran said. “I need you to check on Liv. I need to make sure she’s okay from the pulse. You know how it weakens her…”

  Looking down, he narrowed his gaze, just now registering the paleness of her skin, the dark shadows beneath her eyes. “Liv,” he asked, pushing her slightly away so he could get a better look, “are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Tor,” she answered. Chin angled down, she refused to meet his eyes.

  Toran could feel her trying to temper his worries. Though she may have looked weak, there was no weakness in their connection.

  It was stronger than ever.

  “What is it?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just exhausted,” Liv answered with a sigh.

  “I’m sure you are,” said Anara as she walked towards them. “It’s been quite an intense past few days.” Laying a hand against Liv’s arm, she lowered her voice to say, “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. You have to understand that I wasn’t at liberty to say anything. Please forgive me.”

  “Of course,” Liv nodded.

  “And you, Toran.” She turned her accusing eyes his way. “If you would have just taken the time to return just one of my calls, all of this could have been avoided.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you and the prophecy,” she exclaimed. “I’m talking about you and your faine.” When Toran opened his mouth to defend himself, she continued on, not having any of it. “I got your blood work back from the lab, and the genetic markers are a match. Believe it or not, you two,” Anara looked back and forth between Toran and Liv, “are somehow, someway, of like blood.”

  Sucking in a breath, he glanced down at his faine. He could feel Liv’s confusion jumbled with his own.

  “What are you saying, Anara?” His skin tingling with an intensity of sensation, Toran could no longer deny he was immune to another’s emotions. Along with Liv’s, the doctor’s own uncertainty added to the emotional cocktail filling the room, feeding his strength.

  “I don’t know how it all works,” Anara answered with a shrug. “But, as best as I can tell, your genetic ‘flaw’ makes you some sort of proto-faine.” She paused and then said slowly, “I think you were born to repopulate the faine… through Liv.”

  Toran didn’t hear the rest as Kellen’s words uttered just days before pounded like a sledgehammer against his brain.

  You are more faine than the faine.

  Could it be?

  “I am… like you,” Toran stammered in stunned recognition as his gaze drifted down to take in Liv’s upturned face. Her eyes were shining brightly with that look he’d never seen before he’d found her.

  Hope.

  The words of the prophecy crashed through his mind, the cryptic passages all becoming clear at last.

  Destiny.

  Hesitant, Toran reached out with his mind to once again p
robe their intense connection. At the rush of power that surged between them, his heart began to race.

  He could feel that their connection was different than before.

  It was more.

  Eyes wide, Toran stepped forward to his future, to his Liv, to the life he was meant to live.

  “Find the faine and find the key…” he whispered as he took Liv’s hand and pressed it to his chest. “So that she, of like and purest blood, can take my seed…”

  He fell to his knees before her, his hands spanning Liv’s flat belly, the faintest venna’d pulse of two tiny souls tickling against his palms. “Your womb unlocked to bear my sons…” Toran lifted his head, his eyes full of wonder and, even more, filled with love. “Our destiny thus delivered to save Venn Dom.”

  *****

  EPILOGUE

  Toran, the right and blooded king of all Venn Dom, stood at the edge of a cliff where his kingdom met the sea, his venna churning with unease.

  The last few weeks hadn’t been easy. Not surprisingly, the bulk of his people had recoiled at the thought of a faine taking her place as queen. It had taken a show of righteous force, his first official act as king, to bring the Vimor daemons to heel. With ruthless precision, Toran had ferreted out every last Elder involved in the plot to take his throne––and he had utterly destroyed them.

  At last, with Liv by his side––and his babes inside her belly––a certain sense of normality was finally descending across the land.

  Now there was just the matter of dealing with Kellen.

  Just days after Toran had brought Liv back from Vegas, the daemon had shown up with his father’s head in a burlap sack––no doubt just revenge for a lifetime of abuse.

  Yet, no matter how right the kill, such behavior could not be condoned. It could not be tolerated. Even now, with the calming presence of his faine… and more faine on the way… Toran could still sense unrest amongst the Vimora.

  It was time to end it.

  Guilty of treason, Kellen deserved what he had coming.

  Not even prophecy could save him.

  And, that was an unfortunate truth, indeed––especially now that the Vimora were officially at war. The moment Feliks had chosen to cast his lot with Arman, he had chosen death. Toran had vowed to the gods and everyone to see him dead, the entire Sun Caste punished for the spellcaster’s double-dealing sins. The war with the Sorcieri promised to be a long one––and victory was anything but guaranteed. Over the centuries, Kellen had proved himself a fearsome fighter, one who had always placed principle––no matter how seemingly traitorous it may be––over a life of relative ease.

  Toran would have liked to have him fighting on his side.

  He’d also come to realize that he owed Kellen much, namely his life and his crown. The scores of Elden the daemon had killed throughout the centuries, one by excruciating one, had primed Toran for the fight of his life. Without the regular influx of others’ venna, Toran would not have had the strength to defeat Arman’s magic.

  Yes, Toran had a few good reasons to spare the daemon.

  Yet here he stood.

  Though certain death awaited him on the human ‘el, Kellen would come here without a fight, this Toran knew. He had no doubt the daemon would take his punishment like the proud male he was.

  And, right on cue, Kellen and Merus pulsed onto the plane.

  Toran nodded to Merus in greeting, once again struck uneasy by the empty expression in his cousin’s eyes. His second-in-command had lately been withdrawn, his typically ebullient personality worn and subdued.

  He’d been that way since Toran had last seen him in Vegas with the witch.

  Toran watched as Merus reached out to touch his brother’s shoulder. Kellen gave his brother a reassuring nod before pulling away.

  Without a word, Kellen walked to the edge of the cliff. He gazed out towards the horizon.

  Toran tentatively opened himself up to gauge the daemon’s mood. Though he was still getting used to his ability to harvest emotion, he could swear he sensed a jumbled mix of excitement and anticipation––and intense longing––emanating from the male.

  Strange.

  A cold wind picked up, blowing in furiously from across the sea.

  “Are you ready?” Toran asked above the howling winds.

  Toran watched as Kellen traced his hand up his thigh to palm the front of his hip, his hand placed just over the front pocket of his leathers.

  “I am,” he answered.

  Behind them, Merus choked back a groan.

  “Let’s get this done then.” Stepping forward, Toran wrapped his fingers around Kellen’s throat, his grip cold against the male’s fevered skin. Eyes shut tight, he unleashed his venna and began the process of stripping the male of his near-immortal lifeline.

  Blood afire, Toran panted through the agony. His muscles and bones raged in protest just as he knew the same pain, and more, now took its toll on the daemon beneath his hand.

  Kellen made no sound.

  He just stood there and took it.

  As Toran felt the last of the daemon's venna drain dead away, he tensed.

  He sensed his faine.

  Even before he heard her cries, he could feel her intense distress.

  “Oh my gods,” she cried. “What are you doing? Stop. Stop.

  Toran pried his eyes open to find Liv rushing towards them up the hill, her hand cradled tight below her growing belly.

  He pulled away with a shout. At the loss of their connection, Kellen’s knees buckled. He fell limp to the ground.

  “Take him now, Merus,” Toran bit out between great gulps of breath, his muscles convulsing under the weight of the venna. “It’s done.”

  As Merus pulsed into the Mythos with his brother in his arms, Toran turned and snared his faine up in his, his pain instantly healed by her touch.

  “What have you done?” she cried, her fists pressed tight against his chest.

  “What are you talking about, my love? What’s wrong?”

  “I came out for my walk,” she panted, “and saw… him… standing here with you.” Liv lifted her eyes to his, her lips quivering, her cheeks streaked with tears.

  “Toran,” she said, “he’s the one who saved me for you. He’s the one who saved me from the Cleansing.”

  Did you like this book?

  Thank you so much for reading my debut novel, Bound By Fate (A Novel of the Strong, Book 1).

  If you enjoyed it, I’d appreciate you sharing the love by posting a review on Amazon. Just click the following link and you’ll be directed straight to the reviews page.

  http://amzn.to/1URQewK

  There’s also plenty more in store for the Strong, so please keep in touch. Feel free to drop me a line at amyknickerbocker@gmail.com. You can also join my mailing list by visiting http://www.aknickerbocker.com

  Thanks again… and see ya around the ‘els.

  –– Amy Knickerbocker