A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2

by Hailey Edwards

  I wrapped my arms around him, clung to him, needing more contact, more energy to heal us.

  “You’re stuck with me.” I kissed him. “I want to live, so you have no choice in the matter.”

  His chuckle sounded tired. “I should have fought them.”

  “Crystin or one of the others might have been injured had you resisted.” I combed his unruly hair with my fingers. “They’re hurting, not thinking. We made them handy targets. That’s all.”

  “You give me too much credit.” He grip tightened. “The others never crossed my mind.”

  His fingers slid beneath the fabric of my shirt, up the smooth expanse of my back. When his intentions registered, I fidgeted, but he held me on his lap. Breath hissed between his teeth when I writhed to get free. He was hard beneath me, and he was rocking that hardness against my core.

  “We can’t do this.” I trembled as his fingers skated across my sides, over my ribs, upward.

  “This place isn’t real,” he coaxed, fingertips brushing the undersides of my breasts.

  Tension coiled tighter the higher his hands ventured. “It is real, to me.”

  He flicked his thumbs across my nipples. “If I take you here…”

  “It’s the same thing.” I gasped when he pinched the tender nubs. “I can’t— I won’t—”

  His hands stilled in their exploration, and I almost cried out, begged him to continue.

  Vaughn commanded, “Look at me.”

  “I am looking at you.”

  I couldn’t pry my gaze from him. Not while his cheeks were flushed and his eyes out of focus. Not while his vicious fangs pricked his bottom lip, and I remembered how they’d felt in my neck, when the rush of venom had spun another connecting layer between us, binding us tighter.

  “Can you see our life threads?” he demanded. “How tight I’ve tied them?”

  I let my gaze go unfocused, and there—shimmering silken between us—were the threads of our existence. Rough and artless, the knot was dense and tight. Nothing short of death could break it. Considering our location…the circumstances of our meeting here…death had failed to as well.

  “I see it.” I swallowed hard, sensing the direction of his thoughts.

  He grinned. “Then you see what I do.”

  I sounded breathless. “What do you see?”

  Cupping my face in his hands, he said, “Tell me we’re soul mates.”

  “I can’t—” I recoiled. “Please, Vaughn. Let me go.”

  “Never.” He placed his hand over my heart. “There’s something wrong.” He frowned. “I see a bright halo around your head, green as your eyes, dark as your life thread. But here, there’s this red slash. It looks angry.” I glanced away. He saw too much. “Is it my fault? When I tied us—?”

  The longer his hand rested over that old sore, the stronger the hurt ached.

  “That taint has been there ever since I can remember.” I touched my chest, winced.

  His voice turned stiff. “What does it mean?”

  “I lost my parents when I was young. Their life threads were tied and—it happened so fast. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” My throat burned. “They knew I would be a walker. I’d already seen an aura or two. So when they passed…” I blinked back tears. “I was sent to live with Sikya. Old Father was unable to tend to me alone, so I was given a room above his and Sikya’s for my own.”

  Once those words were out, the rest came easier. “Rhys was a fixture in our house. He was a ward of Sikya’s as well, and I hated him for years. He’d never known his father. He barely knew his mother, yet Sikya coddled him while she…she didn’t ignore me. She hurt from the loss of her brother, and seeing Rhys ripped at that wound on her aura every day. It was hard for a while, but Old Father helped me adjust, helped me mourn my parents. He loves me like his own daughter.”

  Vaughn sat back, studying me. “You can’t see our auras? Can you?”

  “I’ve caught glimpses.” I admitted my cowardice. “After so long…I’m afraid to look.”

  Folding me against his chest, he kissed the top of my head. “What a pair we make.”

  As I relaxed against him, my chest loosened. “Brynmor loved you.” I wished I could tell him how much. “Despite how our lives unfolded, we were well loved. Even if Isolde and Sikya were unable to love us as family should, we had others. You had Brynmor, I had Old Father. We both had Rhys.” I folded and refolded the crumpled collar of his shirt. “And now we have each other.”

  He rubbed my back. “That sounds dangerously close to an admission.”

  “I have discovered if you’re curious about a topic, the best way to learn is to ask questions.”

  His hands stilled. “Mana, do you have feelings for me?”

  “You know I do.” I poked his side. “I’d hardly be here with you now if I didn’t.”

  A thoughtful pause lingered. “Do you…love me?”

  I snorted. “Did you just ask a question rather than dictate the answer?”

  “I’m serious.” He pushed me upright so I had to look him in the eyes. “Tell me.”

  I sat back, folded my arms over my chest and waited.

  “I meant,” he corrected. “I would like to know, please.”

  I patted his chest. Perhaps he could be trained after all. “It depends.” I sprung onto my feet before he caught me. Dancing out of his reach, I stopped at a safe distance.

  His jaw set. “On?”

  “I won’t prompt you.” I crept back when he braced on all fours.

  Settling onto his knees, Vaughn opened his arms wide to me.

  I shook my head. “I’m not so easily caught.”

  His husky chuckle made me blush. “Believe me, I know.”

  I planted my feet. “Whatever you have to say, I can hear perfectly well from where I am.”

  “As you wish.” Vaughn took a deep breath. “Mana, I want you to marry me.”

  I tapped a finger to my lips. “I didn’t hear a question in that.”

  “Will you marry me?” He shifted ever so much closer. “Please?”

  “I’m not sure if I should.” I pretended to debate. “I always thought I would marry for love.”

  A playful light entered his eyes. “You love me.”

  “You sound sure.” I took one step closer. “It is a lifelong commitment after all.”

  Moving slowly, Vaughn set one foot flat on the ground. “One lifetime is not enough.”

  “Without love, one life—”

  He lunged at me, and I squeaked like the mouse he’d named me.

  We fell, tumbling across the floor. His arms caged me, protected me until he had me where he wanted me. Straddling me, he set his muscular thighs to either side of my hips. Stretched my arms over my head, pinned them. His muscles strained as I squirmed and growled beneath him.

  “Let me go.” I struggled to keep from smiling.

  “Never.” He gathered my wrists in one hand, then pinched my chin between the thumb and finger of the other. With my head up and our gazes locked, he cleared his throat. “I do love you.”

  Laughter burst through the taut ball in my chest, and I stared up at Vaughn.

  How many of my girlish fantasies had he fulfilled with those four words? The woman I had become found his admission fantastic too. Was that it, then? Had he always been the one for me?

  Drawing on our bond, I forced my eyes open. I made myself see his aura, see my aura, and I rejoiced in the knowledge they matched, as he somehow had known they would. For an instant, I imagined children born with walker and seer blood, what marvels those children might discover.

  “Well?” Vaughn smoothed his thumb across my bottom lip. “Have you nothing to say?”

  A tug of my wrists got me nowhere. I was at his mercy, yet I had never felt freer.

  His grip loosened with uncertainty.

  Denying our bond was as useless as wings on an ursus. I desired him, had for years. His touch made me hunger for him. My pulse spiked when his expression shi
fted into familiar, smug lines.

  “You do love me.” He sounded sure now. “Tell me.”

  I nipped his finger.

  He bent down, rested his forehead against mine. “Please tell me.”

  Oh yes, he was learning. His plea was my undoing. “I love you, stubborn male that you are.”

  His lips feathered across mine, our breaths cycling, drawing more positive energy through us and into our bond. That old ache in my chest was healed. When he released my wrists to sink his hands into my hair, I returned the favor, and everywhere my fingernails scraped had been healed.

  Gently tugging his lips from mine, I cocked my head to one side. “Do you hear that?”

  “No.” He nibbled along the column of my throat.

  I cupped his mouth with my palm. “That sounds like…”

  Our gazes locked, and his widened. “Isolde.”

  With that realization, the ground beneath us began crumbling. I clung to Vaughn, but he was ripped from my arms as we hurtled down and slid into cold bodies sprawled over colder stones.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dank air rushed into my lungs. Lips pressed to slimy floor and I tasted blood, Vaughn’s or mine, I wasn’t sure. Once my coughing fit subsided, I let physical aches ground me to this world. Vision clearing, I blinked and found myself face-to-face with Vaughn.

  Blood smeared his face, and his lips were slack. I cupped his mouth, but no air stirred.

  Fear propelled me onto my knees, and I flipped him onto his side, pounding his back, shaking him until his chest expanded as he gulped air. He coughed and spat, wrapped his arms around me as chills coasted over his exposed skin. Every shudder jostled me as his soul settled.

  “I can’t see a bloody thing.” Bars rattled behind me. “Vaughn? Can you hear me? Mana?”

  “Isolde?” I glanced over my shoulder. She stood with a sword in one hand and an ax beneath the other arm. “What are you doing down here? Did Murdoch come for you? Are you all right?”

  “How’s my son?” Her voice broke. “Murdoch—he said Vaughn had a bad fall. Is he…?”

  “I’m…not dead.” Vaughn rolled onto his back, touched his skull, winced. “Yet.”

  “Give me your hand.” We clasped forearms. “The sooner you’re on your feet, the better.”

  He was gangly and uncoordinated as his weight settled. His knees buckled with his first step, but his arm around me tightened with determination. Careful of his balance, I guided him toward the bars. Isolde squished her face between the metal slats, her arm stretched for Vaughn’s hand.

  A torch swung behind her and illuminated the surrounding area.

  “I can’t believe it.” Murdoch wrapped a hand around the bars. “You were dead.”

  Isolde flinched, her knuckles whitening where she gripped Vaughn.

  He bent down and kissed her cheek. “The benefit of tying one’s life threads to someone who walks among the dead,” he said, casting a wink my way, “is that she knows her way back home.”

  A wary expression crossed Murdoch’s features. “There is that.”

  “Don’t think too hard about death.” Isolde slapped his shoulder. “It’ll twist your thoughts in knots if you do. Living is what matters. I owe you thanks for bringing me to them, despite it all.”

  I glanced between them. “You can’t intend to leave Isolde here.” I shuddered at the thought. “She’s still recovering. She needs fresh air, sunlight and a dry bed where she can rest properly.”

  Scratching behind his ear, Murdoch cast me a sheepish look. “I’m, uh, her prisoner.”

  “What?” Vaughn and I asked together.

  “Bastards came into my room and had the gall to tell me they’d taken my son to the grotto. I might be old, but I’m not so feeble they’d dare cross me.” She tossed the sword to Murdoch. “If I can trust you to do what’s right, you can keep it. Otherwise…” She gripped her ax tight. “I’ve no qualms in appointing a new head of the guards.” She tapped her foot. “Well, tell me before I give you my back, would you? Rather not have a blade sunk there. I had enough of that for one day.”

  “I am yours to command, as always, Maven.” He inclined his head and sheathed his sword.

  “Good,” she said. “We need honorable guards at our backs when we confront the council.”

  “The council’s gathered, then?” I adjusted my hold on Vaughn. “How long were we…?”

  “Too long,” Isolde snapped. “Not a healer in the whole city. I heard Cleit abandoned us, and he was all we had left. Nerys lacks the proper training to be much use, and you were out cold.”

  “She died.” Vaughn’s grip around my waist turned crushing. “She followed after me.”

  I stroked his arm, surprised to hear no hesitation on his part. He remembered. One hard look told me he recalled every moment we had shared. His link to me must have afforded him clarity.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” he said, as if reading my mind. His arm slid lower, his hand cupping my curves. “I remember everything.” He glanced at his mother. “Mana and I will be wed, soon.”

  Calculation gleamed in Isolde’s eyes. “Is that so?”

  “It is.” Again, Vaughn spoke without hesitation.

  “It is,” I echoed, once remembering I had yet to give him an answer.

  “In this, I will not fail you, Mana.” He lifted my hand to his lips, nipping my knuckles. “You will be loved and protected so long as we’re together.” He grinned at me. “You will be happy.”

  I chuckled at his sincerity. “I doubt you leave me any choice.”

  Trading his grip on Isolde for the bars, he tugged them. “Do you have the keys?”

  Metal jingled when Murdoch reached into his pocket. Before the key met the lock, Isolde set her hand on his. He passed over the keys, no doubt thinking she craved the glory of liberating us.

  Except she fisted them in her hand and stepped outside of Vaughn’s reach.

  “It occurs to me that my son intends to wed you without our having set a bride price.” Isolde tinkered with the ring. “It also occurs to me that if what I’ve heard is accurate, and I see no cause why it wouldn’t be, that means my future daughter has discovered a cure for the yellow death.”

  I saw where this was headed. “Nerys made the discovery.”

  With a shrug, Isolde dismissed that minor fact. “What matters is that only a handful of spots grow dayflowers, Beltania being the only city that cultivates them. I’d wager of that handful, two or three fingers worth know how to process the flowers and distill the oil.” A grin. “Am I right?”

  Uncomfortable with revealing that information in mixed company, I asked a better question. “What are you after? If the cure is accepted as an effective treatment by your clan and mine—”

  “I want a cut of the profit.” She thumbed through the keys. “When word gets out that there’s a cure, demand for dayflower oil will mean your clan never wants for anything. They’ll be out of the pockets of the Araneidae and able to fend for themselves.” A flick of her wrist, then, “You’ll be able to fund more missionary work and protect the old ways before modern ideals kill them.”

  My head spun at the thought. Freedom from the Araneidae. Preservation of the old ways. No higher power to answer to than our own maven if there was work to be done and funds required.

  Isolde illuminated everything I had ever wanted for my clan, for my family.

  If her nails click-clacking on the keys were any indication, she knew it too.

  “I’m not the Salticidae maven.” Thank the gods for it. “I can’t make any bargains with you.”

  “You’re Sikya’s niece,” she groused. “If she won’t listen to you, then I know Masik will.”

  “I’m sorry, but no. Even within our clan, there is a division of beliefs. What I’ve done might rile the Salticidae elders. Old Father may object as well. Treatment in this manner is not what he taught me. It was not true to our way but I believe was the right thing to do.” I voiced one of my worst fears. “Th
e old ways are dying because our elders refuse to adapt as our society evolves.”

  “There are worse things than being progressive.” Vaughn pulled me closer. “You saw how a few drops of oil saved lives. You’re a healer. Old Father will understand and your clan will too.”

  I hoped that was the case. Given the options of watching people die or taking action, I would do the same again. Lives were too precious to risk. Let others debate my actions. I was at peace.

  “Ah, well.” Isolde’s mouth set in a mulish line. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “If we’re discussing a bride price, shouldn’t you offer my clan something of value for me? It seems that is the traditional meaning.” She scowled while I waited. “Besides the pleasure of your son’s company, what are you willing to offer them? You said yourself we’ll soon be in demand.”

  For a moment, she raised her finger. I all but heard her mental calculation.

  “We’re mercenaries. You know that.” She paused. “I would offer your clan protection.”

  “A generous offer,” I said. “But Sikya is wed to Chinedu, and our clan holdings are secure.”

  “Alliances fall in and out of favor as old clan heads step aside and new ones arise.” Her stern expression let me know she was serious. “How about a three-generation alliance with my clan?”

  My pulse quickened. “That is a generous offer.”

  I saw how the Araneidae had fallen when Lourdes’s father died and his clan invaded Erania. From allies to bitter enemies, the change occurred in the span of heartbeats. Her offer would save my clan from such a fate. Before, we had nothing of value. Our alliances were casually made and kept. Now, if dayflower oil was verified as the cure, demand would bring commerce to my clan’s door, and our circumstances would change. We would be vulnerable until this plague subsided.

  And what happened then? What if we developed blessed oils for other ailments?

  If my clan chose not to intermarry with the Deinopidae, then once Chinedu passed, so would their offers of aid. With sick surety, I recalled the simple fact if Sikya bore no heirs, then I would be an aspirant for maven of our clan. If that day came, it would be wise to have allies in my debt.