Blood Oath (#8, the Mystic Wolves)

by Belinda Boring

  “Challenge accepted then,” I laughed in response. “I look forward to kissing you into submission!”

  Her laughter was like a soothing elixir skirting over my soul—reversing the effects of time until all that remained was the two of us. The savagery that had often plagued my heart softened, taming the beast that always lurked and paced beneath the surface. Her touch . . . her very presence . . . always held some magical influence, one I hadn’t felt in a disturbingly long time. Part of me wished I could bottle it—that I could somehow find a way of locking it deep within me, so when I was returned to the future I would never again grieve its absence.

  I loved her. My God, how I loved and craved and needed this woman.

  This was when we were at our finest . . . our purest selves, in a time when I still believed in miracles, and romance, and the power of love.

  I thought I could control the monster threatening to destroy me from the inside out. If I could merely hold onto the warmth I felt in her gaze and the smile that curled her lips, then I could conquer whatever the world might throw my way.

  There was a word—two in fact—to describe my rose-colored-glasses view of life back then . . . naïve and foolish.

  Now, having lived through it and once again retracing those tragic steps . . . I could see just how fragile the balance truly was between goodness and caving in to the blood lust.

  It was all still to come . . . again.

  Being here with Verity and having her in my arms once more chipped away at my resolve. Just how much could one man be asked to endure? Basking in her presence, I could not help but think that maybe finding redemption and restoring order was too steep a price to pay.

  Maybe I’d underestimated my ability to face my demons.

  Riding with Verity offered a rare glimpse of the lovesick youth I’d mourned losing. The Fates had definitely proven their cruelty by requiring this, and I silently screamed they would not best me. I would deny them the pleasure of seeing me buckle under the inevitable or reject their conditions to enjoy one last second with the woman I loved.

  Darcy’s face flashed before me. Not the maniacal, snarling psychopath from Atropos’s vision but the sweet young girl who’d grown into a strong woman—one who never failed to bring me a sense of pride as I watched her claim her rightful place in the world and fight for those she’d sworn to protect.

  It was for her that I embarked on this journey and it would be for her that I saw it through to its gut-wrenching conclusion.

  I’d lived more than a lifetime without my soul mate . . . the match to my heart in every way possible. If I had anything to say about it, my niece would never have to suffer the same emptiness.

  Clenching my jaw, I stuffed those sentiments down deep and refocused on the here and now. This . . . this was the brief respite before the storm—the blazing sun before dark clouds blackened the sky.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Devlin?” Verity whispered, her hand resting lightly on my thigh. Her touch sent shivers through me. No more maudlin thoughts of doom and gloom.

  I had a challenge to win.

  Beauty had finally come to a stop under a large tree. We’d spent many afternoons sitting beneath it, our gazes drifting over the flowing river that ran nearby it. Butterflies danced in the air, settling on a variety of flowers before flittering off in different directions. There was a peacefulness here that lingered. It was one of the places I withdrew to whenever I needed to relax. Even after all this time, I remembered the sweet fragrances that teased my senses.

  These were the memories of my childhood and maturity.

  It was here I gathered my courage and finally confessed my love to Verity. It was where we shared our first kiss. It was where I boldly declared she would be my wife but, first, I needed to make my fortune before I could make it official. I’d wanted to give her the world— everything her heart desired.

  An involuntary shudder passed through when a voice inside me sneered I’d given her Hell instead.

  I didn’t respond to her query. Throwing my leg over Beauty’s solid body, I jumped to the ground and grabbed her by the waist to lift her down. Her mouth popped open at my abruptness, perhaps to exclaim or teasingly scold me for being so reckless without warning.

  My fingers brushed softly over her hair before cupping her face in my hands. “You are so beautiful, Verity,” I murmured before pressing my lips against hers. Sweeping them back and forth . . . once . . . twice . . . savoring how her breath hitched somewhat because I knew I was the one affecting her now. My heart thudded inside my chest so loudly I was surprised she couldn’t hear it. If I was to venture a guess, she was experiencing the same dizzying sensation I was, her own heart pounding away.

  “Can I keep you?” I blurted out. I didn’t care how stupid that sounded. It was the truth. I’d give anything to alter my own Fate—to somehow change my darkest moment so Verity wouldn’t be lost to me forever. I’d done my best to live honorably and do penance for my sins. Dammit, I couldn’t have her back again only to have her ripped from me.

  Her tinkling laughter melted me. “I am yours and you are mine. Nothing will ever change that, my sweet Devlin.” It was her turn to study my features. When she gently ran her finger down the side of my face and along my jawline, I grabbed it, nipping at the padded tip with my teeth.

  Inwardly groaning, the taste of her skin stoked the fire burning in my gut. I needed more.

  Curling my arm around her waist, I anchored her to me. Verity wasn’t going anywhere; her own arm wound around my neck, her fingers stroking my nape. She was breathing a little heavily, her eyes filling with desire as her gaze dropped to my mouth. When she licked her lips, I could bear it no longer.

  Nature and all its soothing sounds faded away. Even Beauty’s gentle nickering drifted away like bubbles on the wind.

  I kissed Verity like I was drowning and she was my only hope of survival. There was no holding back—no thought for propriety or what was proper. While her virginity was still safe, I ravaged her mouth over and over, my tongue dipping until it met with hers. To anyone who might’ve approached, the intimacy of our kiss . . . the hunger that flickered into life would appear positively scandalous and indecent.

  And I didn’t care.

  I’d dreamed of this.

  I’d spent countless nights reliving kisses like this in my mind, settling for imagining her phantom lips on mine.

  She was here . . . I was here . . . if it meant this moment would be added to the long list of crimes for which I needed to repent, then so be it.

  There was no guilt, just an extraordinary sense of completeness—wholeness.

  I was Devlin again.

  When she finally stepped back, more so she could catch her breath than anything else, Verity’s eyes were glassed over and hazy. I’d kissed her senseless and it made my male ego roar with approval.

  “Challenge met,” I gloated, pulling her back against me.

  “What were we talking about?” Her voice shook. Hell, her entire frame trembled in my arms.

  “Exactly,” I grinned and feathered a light kiss across her cheek. She stilled when my mouth touched her ear. “I won’t be gone long,” I lied. “Before you know it, I’ll be back from London. You won’t even miss me.”

  “I always miss you,” Verity confessed. I cursed myself as I watched sadness fill her eyes. She would be lonesome while I was away simply because we were a matched pair. I ached each time I had to say goodbye and she counted the days . . . hours . . . minutes until we were reunited.

  I couldn’t speak for fear of more lies tumbling out. Instead, I held her tighter, resting her head upon my chest, my hands slowly stroking her back.

  “I’ll return.” It was the truth. “I promise.”

  It was one I knew I would keep.

  That knowledge killed me with each breath I took.

  Verity, my love, forgive me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Klothos

  His suffering was unnecessary.
<
br />   Just as when he buried his sister, I stood a silent, invisible witness to the next round of goodbyes he offered. There had been tears a plenty when he hugged and kissed his parents goodbye, taking a few extra moments to whisper his love into the baby’s ear. Devlin had covered Lucinda’s sweet cheek with kisses and paused as though he was reluctant to let her go when it was time to leave.

  While I wasn’t burdened by human sentiments, I understood his hesitancy. The next time he’d see the young bairn would be when his life had spiraled so completely out of control that, for the briefest fraction of time, onlookers would be unsure he’d maintain his honor.

  In the time I’d observed the young man, soon to become vampire, I’d noticed that things like honor and chivalry were important to him. His word was his bond—his blood oath to his sister was a prime example. The lengths to which Devlin would go to protect those he loved were one of the fundamental traits that made him so remarkable. He would never admit it—in fact, he’d argue how unworthy he was of such praise.

  All he saw were his mistakes and errors in judgment. He carried the weight of his sins on his shoulders, never quite feeling redemption was within reach. I knew the approaching events brought his loved ones a heartache for which he would forever blame himself.

  Reliving these memories would heighten the tendency because they would again be horrifyingly fresh. Time wouldn’t be able to dull the pain.

  It tugged at my heart for some reason—the injustice of causing this warrior to relive his greatest regrets. Yes, he had asked an incredible favor my sisters and me—one that was almost unprecedented in its enormity. I’d attempted to speak with them to see if, somehow, we might allow the experience to be lessened in its severity. There was no need to bring him so far back in time . . . it served no purpose other than their entertainment, but each time I brought up the subject I’d been ridiculed for my foolishness.

  Fates didn’t care about feelings.

  The Moirai didn’t bother themselves with lesser beings and their trivial lives.

  Their sole responsibility was to guard the balance set by the gods—to ensure their masters’ play things didn’t upset the grand scheme of things. A human’s existence was a mere blip in the fabric of time; they were insignificant.

  Yet I found them fascinating and, truth be told, I envied the messy, complicated beauty of their lives. It was a far cry from the removed, almost clinical life I endured.

  “Why am I not surprised to find you here, Klothos?” Atropos asked as she appeared without warning. “Tears are for the weak, sister.”

  Brushing them away before they spilled down over my cheeks, I stood a little taller. I would not allow my sister—either of them—to bully me because of this. I knew my role and the responsibilities asked of me. I didn’t need their constant nagging and criticism to remind me.

  “Tears are a sign of compassion, something I believe we sorely lack.” Keeping my gaze on Devlin as he took the woman he loved into his arms, I wondered what it would be like to experience such affection. He buried his face in her hair, his fingers splayed against her back. “We could learn a lot from them.”

  Atropos snorted, her mouth screwed up into a mocking sneer. “What could they possibly teach us? How to squander away their lives on menial drivel? How to fall so completely short of greatness that it borders insanity? Are they more than chattel, mere playthings for higher beings? They are nothing, dear sister, and you would be wise to remember that.”

  She cast a derisive glance at the somber party gathered to see Devlin off. He was about to embark on the next stage of his journey—one that would take him closer to his darkest moment.

  “Do you ever get tired of believing that, Atropos?” I asked, curious. “Do you never wish for . . . more?” It was a dangerous question because it wasn’t beneath my sister to shower me with the same cruelty she showed the mortals who had the audacity to summon us.

  We hadn’t always been like that. Time—eons and eons of it—had jaded the two other Fates and bleached away any sense of goodness. They’d grown malicious and found joy in belittling their charges.

  Fun. That was the word they’d used.

  “You would be wise to remember who you are, Klothos. What you speak is nothing short of blasphemy and I would hate to see you locked away, punished until you come to your senses. Humans are nothing to us. Curb this ludicrous fascination you have with them and remember your place.”

  Dread settled into the pit of my stomach at the mention of being locked away. It was one of the very few fears I held as a Fate. It was our responsibility, to watch over mankind—managing their births, lives, and inevitable deaths. Should any of the Moirai falter in their duty, the gods did have a way to reform a wayward Fate.

  Darkness.

  Absolute, terrifying darkness.

  It was enough to drive a being mad, especially one who existed to watch and bear witness.

  “There is no need to threaten, sister,” I retorted, rankled by her eagerness to see me stripped bare. That was the danger of being exiled to the darkness. It didn’t matter how long you endured it—a few seconds or a millennia—you were irrevocably changed. It was the gods’ version of a factory reset.

  And I abhorred it.

  Feared it.

  “Oh, I believe there is. Who would I be if I didn’t remind you . . . if I didn’t reach out to stop you from making such a foolish mistake? Unlike the young Devlin Lockhart, I would take no pleasure in your . . . discomfort.”

  Is that what she called it?

  “We shouldn’t take pleasure in any of this, Atropos. We should be unbiased and unwavering in our vigilance.”

  “Tread carefully,” she snapped angrily. “Your words condemn you. Why are you even here? It isn’t required of us to observe our charges so closely. Why did you come down to earth? Why have you formed such connections with him?” Atropos gestured to Devlin with disgust. He was currently kissing his Verity with a passion that made even me feel somewhat breathless. Temptation struck within me as I fought not to touch my own lips, pretending that they felt as tender as Verity’s would once he was done.

  “Simple curiosity,” I answered with a building confidence. I refused to let her badger me or make me feel like I was somehow faulty for wanting to evolve . . . to be more than I was. “Why must he face these events alone?”

  “Because he is merely an animal and beneath our notice, sister. That is why. Were he our equal, he wouldn’t have required our assistance.”

  “But why send him back so far? Months!” That was a question I’d mulled over since Devlin first appeared in our throne room. Reliving his darkest moment would still be painful—heartbreaking—without having to also relive the death of his sister and his approaching betrayal.

  “Because we could.”

  Her response sent chilly tendrils of ice through me. For all the taunts that I was becoming corrupted by humanity and losing sight of who I was as a Fate, it was blatantly obvious that the real tragedy was how truly disturbed my sisters had become. They had succumbed to the monotony of time and boredom, transforming into monsters in their own right.

  “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” I gently whispered. “Where is your sense of mercy and benevolence? Please, for once, think of others beside your own thirst for drama and entertainment.”

  My voice caught in my throat. I was skating along a thin line of insubordination and, in my mind’s eye, I knew I ran the risk of being punished. Still, I felt an overwhelming need to protect Devlin . . . to protect his whole line. It was why I’d interfered with his niece, Darcy, and her mating. I couldn’t explain it.

  Atropos turned a sharp eye to me and I felt the weight of her scrutiny. “I believe you are the one in danger, sister. Tread with caution. Remember your place.”

  I simply nodded. There would be no further conversation—no pleading for mercy. Both my sisters were deaf to such things and I’d been foolish to think I could somehow sway them.

  Devlin w
ould proceed as they planned.

  He would be afforded no respite.

  He would experience it all again with a blistering clarity that might still destroy him.

  “Return with me, now.” Atropos’s tone revealed she’d accept no refusal or excuses. In wanting to speak on Devlin’s behalf and possibly soften his conditions, I’d exposed my bleeding heart.

  I layered as much contrition as I could in my reply. “Yes. Please forgive me for speaking out. You are right . . . I forgot my place. Thank you, sister, for helping me see the error of my ways.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to scold me further. Bowing my head, my hands clasped before me, I was the picture of perfect penance.

  Casting one last glance at Devlin, I shimmered away and returned to my home. One way or another, I would figure out a way to help the young man.

  Even if it resulted being imprisoned in a dark void.

  What was the point of being a Fate if I couldn’t use my powers for good?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Devlin

  After a grueling week of slow travel by horse and carriage, London was fast approaching. One more day would see me entering the bustling city and introducing myself to Lady Hannah, my benefactress.

  The letter Vivien had written explaining who I was and why she’d sent me to her burned a hole in my pocket. I’d forgotten how tedious journeying from one part of the country to another was. It was nothing like the speed and convenience of cars, trains, and planes that would make life easier in the future.

  My body screamed from the abuse of being jostled about on poorly maintained roads. I longed for a moment of respite so, after booking a room, one of the first requests I made of the establishment’s proprietor was they draw a hot, hot bath. Just the thought of the steaming water loosening up several days’ worth of tight muscles made me groan loudly into my drink.