by Katie May
You couldn’t just be good. You had to be great.
If you were perfect? They ate you alive.
And if you weren’t? You ate yourself alive.
“Do you know what the task is?” I asked Bash urgently. There were
thousands of things the Mermaid King could ask her to do, each one worse
than the last. A pounding headache reverberated behind my eyes, and I
brought my hand to the tender muscle.
Why couldn’t fate have given me an easy mate?
As quickly as I thought that, I dismissed it. I didn’t want easy, not
anymore. Not after I had met and held Z. I was even willing to share her, just
on the off chance she’d grant me a small piece of her heart. I knew she was
capable of it, despite her beliefs. She may not have loved often, but when she
did love, she gave everything she had. Being loved by her was worth more
than a thousand females, a thousand “easy” mates.
“No idea,” Bash answered. “Ryland?”
“He’s planning on announcing it tonight,” the Shadow answered
demurely. No doubt, he was thinking the same thing I was. The fragility of
our human mate.
“We’re going with her,” I said. It wasn’t a question, despite my need for
confirmation from the other two. If they weren’t joining her, then I would go
by myself. Either way, she was not leaving my sight again.
Before they could respond, the door was pushed open, and Devlin
entered, breathing heavily. My stomach tightened when I caught the heady
remains of his lust and desire wafting off of him. Jealousy, briefly, speared
my chest before I pushed it down. I had no right to be jealous of these men,
my brothers. Z was their mate just as much as she was mine.
“What’s going on?” Bash asked lazily, flicking his eyes towards the
Genie. There was no missing Devlin’s unkempt, disheveled appearance, but
if Bash knew the cause of it, he didn’t comment. That was a first.
Progress.
“It’s Z,” Devlin said breathlessly, and my breath left me. Icy dread
slithered down my spine.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
That single, repetitive thought hummed through my mind.
“Is she okay?” I asked anxiously. Bash tried to look nonplussed,
impassive, but I could see the tightening of his eyes. The stiffening of his
shoulders. He had a lot to do to win over our little mate, but I knew he would
try.
He just had to get his head out of his ass first.
“I think so…” Devlin trailed off, running his fingers through his curls, a
gesture he always did when he was anxious.
“You think so?” Ryland asked darkly, and Devlin jumped. It was
surprising he hadn’t noticed the Shadow when he had initially entered the
room. He must’ve been really distracted. Or nervous.
My heart, which had already been beating erratically, now picked up
speed.
“She’s gone.”
Devlin’s words doused me in cold water.
“What?” Bash asked, raising a blond brow.
“She’s gone,” Devlin repeated. His nails dug into the palm of his hand, a
coping mechanism he had done since we were children. “She left.”
FOUR
Z
The air was crisp, unnaturally chilly, as I walked down the dirt streets
of my home town. The skeletal branches of trees clawed at the sky,
and wispy clouds did little to block out the sun.
It was a beautiful day, despite the chill, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Contentment coursed through me in waves.
The last time I had been back here…
It was when I had first heard about the Damning. I had been instructed by
B, the leader of the Alphabet Resistance, to kill a Mage who had murdered
young children. The Mage had been initially selected for the Damning, but
when I had killed him, the magic had transferred itself to me.
My life had changed dramatically since then. No longer was I merely Z,
the poor assassin girl. I was Zara and Susan as well. The competition had
brought me to my mates, seven men who I still didn’t fully understand, but it
had also inevitably led to the death of my best friend. The banishment of the
other.
Children giggled, racing past me, and an older woman asked me to
sample her freshly baked bread.
Everything was familiar. Simple. Exactly as I remembered it.
But also painfully different.
The girl I had once known, the girl who had once wandered these streets,
was dead. In her place was someone designed to be a killing tool for the
monsters I had once hunted. What would B say if he saw me now? What
would S think?
My heart hurt thinking of my dead lover. The pain was softer than it once
was, a mere wrenching. It no longer overwhelmed me as it used to. I
supposed the saying was true: time healed broken hearts and all that shit.
A smile, unbidden, broke free when I caught sight of a small bakery. It
was in there, surrounded by the pervasive scent of stale bread and cheeses,
that I had met Devlin. I remembered his violet eyes glimmering with barely
suppressed amusement. The curve of his lips. Those soft curls I desperately
wanted to run my fingers through.
The smile left my face when I stopped in front of a dilapidated house, ivy
and vines clawing upwards. The windows had been broken, and graffiti
covered every spare inch of cream colored walling.
It was in this house that I had first confessed my love to S.
It was in this house that I had watched him die.
Trembling, I burrowed my face further into my coat, inhaling the unique,
pine scent I had come to associate with Lupe. I hadn’t even realized I had
stolen his coat until I was already in town. Not that he would mind.
“What are you looking at?” a voice whispered in my ear, and I screamed,
spinning with my hands raised.
A Vampire stood inches from me, hot breath fanning my face. He had
short brown hair and a handsome, chiseled face.
I recognized him. The Vampire who I had dreamt about. The Vampire
who had crawled into my bed with me.
The Vampire I had allowed to crawl into my bed with me.
From what little I gathered from the other princes, this was my mate. Jax.
But of course, we had never been properly introduced.
He stared at me as intensely as I stared at him.
“It tingles,” he whispered hoarsely, scratching at his arm.
I raised my brow before understanding dawned. According to lore, when
a Vampire met his mate, his skin began to itch. It was what happened to Mali
when she had first come into contact with Atta...and Zack.
“It tingles. My blood tingles like fairies spelled me. Why won’t it stop?”
Almost absently, his nails dug into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. It
was only then that I noticed the numerous scars adorning his pale arm.
Did he do that to himself?
Horror filled me, immediately dissipating any ill-feelings or fears I felt
towards the Vampire. I grabbed at his hand, the one scratching his skin, and
held it between both of mine.
“Stop that!” I demanded.
He froze, muscles contracting, before his eyes met mine. They were alight
; with wonder and awe. Reverence. All of which I didn’t deserve.
“Z?” he croaked. As if he couldn’t help himself, he reached with his free
hand and brushed at my mane of curls. It took him a few tries - his hand kept
shaking - before he was able to push one of my golden tresses behind my ear.
“Jax?” I said his name hesitantly. For the first time I had known him,
there was coherence in his eyes. It was as if the pieces to the puzzle clicked.
He stared at me as if I held all the answers to his questions, as if I was
shrouded in a golden light.
Instantly, self-consciousness filled me, and I stepped away.
The coherence disappeared from his eyes immediately, and he too
stepped back.
“I have five fingers on one hand. Four on the other. Five plus four equals
nine. And nine is the number. I heard the devils talking. Five plus four equals
nine. Nine fingers. We need nine fingers,” he rambled, pulling at his hair. His
eyes flitted from my face, to my shoes, to the building behind me, before
resting once more on me. This time, he didn’t meet my eyes. He seemed to be
looking anywhere but.
When his eyes lowered to my cleavage, I knew he didn’t mean it as
sexual. He was just desperate for something, anything, to stare at.
What the hell happened to him?
“The voices keep talking. And talking. And talking.” In a blur of
movements, he whacked his closed fist against his head. “Stupid. They call
me stupid. But I need them to stop.”
Tears welled in his eyes, and he finally met my gaze pleadingly. “Please
make it stop.”
We were garnering attention from the humans - and the few Nightmares -
scattered about. Frowning, I gripped Jax’s hand and pulled him into the
house. As I stepped over the threshold, taking in the furnitureless room and
peeling wallpaper, the memories didn’t bombard me as they once would’ve.
They would no doubt come in time, but right then, I needed to focus on Jax.
He had stopped babbling and now followed me wordlessly into a room
that once served as a living room. There was only one window, facing the
alleyway, so I didn’t have to be afraid we would be looked in on.
Surprisingly, the ugly floral couch S had bought still sat in the center of the
room, collecting dust on the silver tarp. I had thought for sure it would’ve
been stolen or destroyed.
Releasing Jax’s hand, I removed the tarp, coughing at the onslaught of
dust particles hanging stagnant in the air.
“Sit,” I instructed Jax. He muttered something under his breath -
something about toenails - before tentatively perching himself on the edge of
the couch. He held himself rigid, back straight, as if he feared what his
proximity would do to me. I appreciated his consideration.
There was no denying I was still wary around Nightmares.
“Um…” What does one say to an obviously crazed Vampire? I couldn’t
just damn well ask if he wanted a refreshment.
The thought made me snort out a laugh. I pictured myself bleeding over a
coffee cup, a serene smile on my face as I discussed mundane things like the
weather with the crowned prince of Vampires.
“The voices whisper,” Jax said urgently. He shifted closer, his knee a
hair’s breadth away.
“The voices?” I asked slowly.
One thing was becoming abundantly clear: Jax needed help. More help
than someone like me, a mere human with no substantial knowledge of the
Nightmare World, could give him.
“Nine fingers. Five fingers plus four fingers equals nine fingers.”
“Jax,” I said soothingly. I was momentarily startled by my own voice.
When had I ever sounded that...loving? “I don’t understand what you’re
saying. You have ten fingers. See?” I took his hand, absently stroking each
finger. Once I reached the tenth, I dropped his hand.
He let out a grunt of impatience.
Speaking slowly, deliberately, as if talking to a child, he repeated, “Five
plus four equals nine.”
He reached for my hand once more, and I let him, mentally reveling in
how small he made me feel. How delicate. His calloused hand engulfed my
little one. That wasn’t to say I didn’t have calluses and scars of my own,
because I did, but he made me feel...vulnerable. Innocent.
His breath left him, and his ramblings ceased. He stared down at our
clasped hands, dozens of emotions flashing across his face. Shock.
Astonishment. Excitement.
Clarity.
“Did I ever tell you that I hate being what I am? Who I am? Or is it
whom?” I rambled. Putting a finger to my chin, I waited a beat before
continuing. Outside, the rasping wind toyed with the shutters, opening and
closing them at intermittent intervals. “Did you notice how many people were
outside? How many doors? How many windows? How many vehicles?”
His nose crinkled adorably. That was not a word I would normally
associate with any male, least of all a Nightmare, but it fit him.
“Who would notice that?” he asked somewhat dazedly.
“Twenty-four people. Seven doors. Eighteen windows. Two vehicles,” I
said, ticking them off on my fingers. “It’s my job to see everything. To know
everything. To hear everything. And…” I shrugged helplessly. “It’s
daunting.”
“Daunting?” he parroted. Once more, that delicate brown eyebrow
arched.
“Daunting,” I said with a firm nod. “I feel like I have the weight of the
world on my shoulders, now more so than ever.” Throwing my head back, I
released a humorless laugh. Jax continued to watch me, eyes narrowed, but
did not interrupt. “I hated you guys for as long as I could remember. The
seven princes. Now, look at me. You guys are my mates.”
The world really did have a sick sense of humor.
His thumb padded against my knuckles, the barest of grazes, as he stared
upwards. His expression was almost contemplative, as if he was attempting to
solve a difficult chemistry formula. After a moment, he lowered his head and
met my eyes. I couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.
“I understand what you’re saying,” he said after a long moment of
silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. Just long.
“Huh?” I asked.
A brilliant grin took over his face. “I understand what you mean,” he
repeated. And then he laughed, a jovial sound that went straight to my core.
“Tell me more!”
The poor Vamp really had lost his mind.
At a loss for words, I gestured around me with my free hand.
“I used to live in this house,” I admitted.
“Did you, my love?” he asked, that smile still firmly in place.
What was even happening?
It felt...natural speaking with Jax. As if we were longtime friends instead
of virtual strangers. I knew it was the mate bond causing that inherent
reaction, but it still unnerved me. It wasn’t normal to feel this comfortable
with a Vampire.
Then again, nothing about my life had ever been normal.
“With S,” I said with a nod. It no longer hurt to say his name.
I envisioned his face then: eyes crinkli
ng with his smile and a shock of
brown hair.
“S…” Jax said the name, face twisting oddly. It wasn’t jealousy
necessarily - I wasn’t sure if he was even capable of thinking such a normal
emotion - but something that made me almost suspicious. “Was that your
human lover?”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I said stiffly. Maybe I should. Maybe I
should air my dirty laundry for the entire world to see. Maybe I should tell
him I killed the last man I loved and to stay clear of me.
I should...but I was selfish.
From outside, muted voices reached me. Their words were mostly
inarticulate, but I managed to gather a few important words and phrases.
Z. Prince Jax. Aaliyah.
Releasing Jax’s hand, I jumped like my body was on fire. Before he could
protest, I grabbed the blade out of my shirt sleeve and held it up, aiming it
towards the door.
“Monsters are coming,” Jax whispered softly. He began to mutter under
his breath, but I no longer heard him. Instead, I focused on the door. Waiting.
Ready.
It blew off its hinges, shattering against the back wall.
A young man entered, eyes livid and a cruel grin on his face.
Immediately, I catalogued him as a Mage.
He lifted his hand, and I was thrown across the room, back ricocheting off
the wood. Pain erupted in my spine, but I shakily got back to my feet.
There were a few rules when fighting a Mage, but I only ever focused on
one.
Take him out as soon as possible.
The longer you remained fighting, the more power he was able to collect
and use. Mages, unless they were using potions and talisman, relied heavily
on internal magic. They could gather this magic from anything - nature, sex,
blood. It all depended on the type of magic they wielded. It was for this
reason, I suspected, that a Mage couldn’t get erect after he had come into
contact with his mate. The powers that be didn’t want them replenishing their
magic with anyone other than their fated mate.
Before the asshole could draw more power into him, I charged forward,
knife raised. Quickly, I slammed the blade into his shoulder. I had meant to
hit his heart, but he had moved at the last second.
Grunting, he pulled the dagger out of his skin, blood dripping down the
blade. I kneed him in the stomach, simultaneously reaching for my second
