by Gaja J. Kos
“We should head down the street, see if we’ll have more luck there,” Rose commented rather pointedly.
“Agreed,” Veles chimed in from her side, already weaving through the nearest tables and towards the ever-busy street.
She breathed easier once they cleared the edge of the cafe, but didn’t dare lose the link to that peculiar nagging she felt in her veins.
“You, too?” she asked Serafina, low enough to not be overheard as her energy locked on the sensation.
The Koldunya nodded. “I guess it’s the same as your scents… Some linger around for longer.”
Rose didn’t bother to reply that it was only the strong smells, like blood and death, that remained noticeable even after days had passed.
And she certainly didn’t want to think about the silent continuation of Serafina’s comment. The one that had washed over her in those whispers of Mokoš, ever so lively between them.
She would find out soon enough if the Vedmak was able to track her just as easily.
The sun was already low on the horizon, half submerged behind Ljubljana’s rooftops, when Rose stalked back to her apartment, Veles on her heels. She was already in a foul mood from the Vedmak’s tracks leading them in circles right up to the point when they had disappeared at a bus stop.
She would have snorted at the idea of a warlock on public transport if she hadn’t been so pissed.
Or if the god hadn’t been waiting for her in the damned parking lot when she came back from dropping Serafina off in Radovljica.
Though the Koldunya was faring well, she needed the boost the sacred circle had to offer to hone her senses and energy. Besides, the witch had wanted to learn more about the destructive depths of her magic, and she certainly couldn’t do that in the city. Her people possessed the knowledge she sought—Rose didn’t have to ask to know it had been Sander’s name resonating in Serafina’s mind—and the circle itself presented safety in addition to strength. Here, there were too many people that might fall victim to her power in case something went wrong, and not nearly enough resources to fuel her study.
Still, leaving Ljubljana wasn’t something Serafina did gladly. Yet the desire to not be at anything but her very best once the next phase of Rose’s plans was set in motion had proven to be a strong motivator.
Rose understood, encouraged her, actually, to return to her coven for a little while. The same impulse was, after all, what had driven the pack to visit the Kolduny during the winter months in the first place, even if it meant gaining nothing more than a night’s rest before they set out searching for the vamps.
She had missed Serafina’s company the instant she turned her Defender around, but by the time Gorenjska’s diverse terrain shifted into the urban clutches of Ljubljana, she had almost been at peace with it.
However, the one thing she hadn’t been counting on was seeing the god lingering so casually in the parking lot behind her building. Even an eight-hour drive in her beloved jeep wouldn’t be able to ease that tension.
She had walked past him without saying a word, but clearly that had been invitation enough for Veles to follow her inside.
In a way, she knew this was perhaps the best moment to clear the air between them—before the wider, shitty situation kept them working closely together with no room to breathe in between. Still, it didn’t mean she had to look forward to the conversation.
There was another companion to the rage pulsing in her veins, one she hadn’t wanted to admit even existed.
The chilling fear of being hurt again.
Wuss, she snarled at herself and opened the door to let Veles glide in before her.
She could have sworn she’d seen the god glance towards the bedroom before he took a right turn into the dining area, which, more often than not lately, doubled as a smoking parlor. At least that was what Sebastian always said, wrinkling his nose at the smoke that appeared to be permanently etched into the walls’ structure. Veles, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any objections.
He took his usual seat, legs spread wide, and one arm thrown over the headrest of the chair next to him.
Not wanting to drag the whole thing out, she kicked off her boots and joined the god, opting for the chair on the opposite side of the table. Being too close just might dull her words, and she wasn’t having any of that. Not this time.
She fished a cigarette out of her pocket, and the god leaned over with a lighter in his hand even before she managed to snatch hers from the pocket of her black jeans. Veles’ lips curled into a half smile, a shadow of the former lord of the underworld and their many evenings spent in this very room erupting to life in front of her eyes. Suddenly, she was painfully aware of the scratch marks still etched in the wood in front of her. They were like a bloody tattoo, burning into the depth of her soul.
Fury fighting the blush in her cheeks, she gave him a pointed stare then lit her own cigarette.
“Still so willful.” The god clicked his tongue, the velvet tone of his voice falling upon her skin like the heated caresses of his lips.
“I should rip your throat out,” she breathed in return.
They remained staring at each other in silence, her cigarette slowly burning between her fingers.
“I cannot take back what I’ve done, Rosalind. But I would have done it differently, given the chance.”
Rose She glared at him, fingernails lengthening into claws.
Too long. She had kept all of it tucked inside her for too long, and no amount of convincing could change the truth.
She was furious.
She felt betrayed, and she was so gods-damned furious, she wanted to feel the trickle of his blood on her hands.
Any tactic she might have considered evaporated in a heartbeat. Civil wasn’t an option any longer. The net that had held her in check snapped, and words boiled out of her.
“You fucking fucker. I killed an innocent vampire because the powers were too new, too large for me to comprehend. I killed someone, and it ripped me apart because that’s one stain I’ll never be able to fucking scrub off my skin. I never wanted this. I didn’t ask to be born out of a union between a Vedmak and a Black were, who just so happens to be the fucking descendant of Mokoš, on top of everything. Just as I didn’t ask to be some damned goddess in the making. Yes, I take lives. I took my first when I was twelve. But those were fights, battles, threats. I have never harmed a person that was innocent.
“When I saw how Dragan looked at me—when I knew that it was this gods-damned golden light within me that had taken Damir and given him over to your realm, I wanted to die, Veles. That was blood on my hands I never wanted to have. You saw just how messed up I was, you saw that I was on the verge of truly, completely breaking, and you fucking stomped on that bloody glass that still held me together, shattering it into so many pieces that I couldn’t collect them all even if I had several lifetimes to do so.
“You fucking selfish prick, you put your needs first. I honestly believed you were different from the stories. You made me believe that you cared. Well, fuck you for that. You just left! You fucking left when I needed you most, when my whole bloody life was slipping through my fingers and every single thing was being shot to shit. You left.
“Why? Huh? Why? I could have balanced out my energy even if we were together. It was the proximity, the physical touch that was the problem—you said it yourself—and yet you, what, couldn’t wait? Couldn’t give me a few bloody months to sort things out, to tackle this shit with the aid of knowing that once I did, I’d get to come back to you.
“No, instead you shrouded yourself in your petty cloud of pain, so deep that no fucking living being on this planet could comprehend it, right? You painted yourself a martyr because souls are your wards, and you should have known better. Well, guess what? They’re my wards as well. I hold the gates between realms just as you do, you prick. I am your fucking equal! I was supposed to be your consort, the other side of the coin in more ways than just mere power. But at the fi
rst sign of trouble, you tossed me aside, just like every other woman in the disgusting line of one night stands you’ve had. But you know what, Veles? I am not just a fucking woman. I AM a goddess, and I swear by the blood of Mokoš that I will fucking rip your throat out if you ever, EVER cross me again.”
She didn’t know when she began screaming the words. But by the time she had finished, her whole body was shaking and the cigarette between her fingers had burned down, ashes biting into the skin of her hand.
Pain pulsed in Veles’ eyes as he watched her, as if each word was a blow strong enough to draw blood. But there was something else there… Something she, fighting the nausea that rocked her body, didn’t understand.
Not until the god said, “You’ve accepted your role of goddess?”
Chapter 27
The relief and admiration in Veles’ eyes succeeded in drying out the words in Rose’s throat as if they had never even been there. She had wanted to claw the god for what he had done, had expected to hear his perfectly reasonable explanation excusing his actions.
But even in the deepest confines of her mind, she hadn’t been expecting this.
In fact, she had surprised even herself.
Bent on telling Veles the weight of his betrayal and sharing the reality she was forced to live with, she had given him the admission she had vowed never to release into the air.
Containing the truth hadn’t been a problem when she could hardly believe it herself. But by allowing it to boil inside her for so long instead of letting it die, that single admission became impossible to ignore.
It hit her then.
Not a slip-up, but a display of strength her subconscious had when the circumstances called for it.
With all the shit she had to face, denying what was happening, not what she was becoming but had already become, would only continue to be a disadvantage.
“Yes,” she replied softly, the truth more calming than all the wine she had drunk in the past months. “I’m not running from who I am any longer.”
She could have sworn she saw the god’s eyes glisten as those words filled the space between them, the atmosphere suddenly growing so intimate, Rose she had to remind herself of the past months, of the still painful fact that she and Veles were not together.
She had wanted to rip out his throat, for Koliada’s sake! Yet the energy within her spoke of her true desires, of the yearning to trail her claws down his tee, ripping the fabric until nothing stood between her and his skin.
She craved to run her tongue down the toned crevices of his abdomen, to feel the pressure of his hands digging into her flesh as he fought for that last inch of control. Because it was always her that made him this way, thrown into an insatiable state where lust and affection weaved into a single entity, where the pain of his fangs marked her as his in the purest of sentiments.
Every last vine of her energy called out, pleaded to be one with the god in a way that wouldn’t taint her, but make her more. Make both of them more—as they were supposed to be.
She wanted to snarl at the vision, at the insufferable pull, but she had been snarling at herself for far too long as it was.
“Does that change anything?” she asked, forcing the words to be as steady as she could make them with her entire body alive, saturated with the dangerous mix of anger and desire.
The god reached over the table and helped himself to one of her cigarettes. She observed him as he inhaled, filling the lungs to capacity then letting the smoke slowly seep through his nose. Though he wasn’t trying, everything about him was sensual.
Rose cleared her throat.
“Your power would continue to develop even if you hadn’t acknowledged it,” he began, his voice the same smooth velvet she had come to know—and love. “Yet there are several advantages to it. Many will remain displeased with the shift in the power structure, which is nothing new; however, you will gain more knowledge. The acceptance into the higher circles is mandatory for all deities—though you have found a sly way of going about those rules already, Rosalind. But the information your mother and the Kolduny have is incomplete. So is mine. Now, with you obtaining the facts, news, and history that is pertinent for ruling your own realm, our joined knowledge will compose a near perfect picture with very few blanks left in between. I believe it’s safe to presume that it will aid us immensely in the coming months.”
She had thought about that before, but it wasn’t what she had been aiming at with her question.
A soft smile played on her lips.
Deity or not, at times, Veles was just as flawed as any other man.
“I meant if it changes anything for you…”
The god blinked, halting the cigarette midway to his lips. Slowly, he inhaled, his eyes never leaving her.
“You being a goddess won’t make me love you or respect you more,” he said, and every tendon in her body tensed at the statement. “That would be impossible. I don’t know how my respect, my love for you could be any stronger than it already is, srček.”
As the words sank in, her desire to rip the god’s throat out was replaced by the yearning of gently sinking her teeth into that inhumanly inviting flesh. No reservations.
Her skin heated at the thought.
“Veles, what you did—”
“There is no excuse,” the god finished for her, the blunt sincerity of his statement staggering. “I cannot take back the past. I can only hope that not all bridges have been burned already.”
She swallowed and lit herself another cigarette. She hated her hands for trembling, hated the fact that despite everything, she still wanted to try.
More than that, actually.
Trying was one step short of failing. In her mind, there was no room for the latter.
The energy inside her flared in silent response, showing her there was nothing physical holding her back.
“I’ve missed you,” she confessed, but didn’t dare meet the god’s gaze—it was too much, too soon, even if it felt right.
The words lingered between them, swirling through the air like the smoke rising from the tip of her cigarette.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, extending his hand across the table.
She entwined her fingers with his, her energy bubbling at the touch.
But it wasn’t from influence—as it had promised, the golden light within her remained pure.
It was recognition.
The most primal, intuitive recognition, spoken in a language that had survived the ages, that was lost yet present, ethereal and earthly. It soared through her body, unlocking deep pools she hadn’t known existed, and unleashed their opulent, everlasting contents.
Rose saw the realization in his eyes just as she herself accepted what the sensation meant.
As wild and impossible as it seemed, the truth resonated through her core, making her understand a concept she hadn’t known existed.
“Mokoš had spoken of this,” the god whispered, olive embers in his eyes ablaze, “but I never thought it was real.”
She ran her thumb across the smooth skin of his hand, drawing gentle, slow circles as she gazed at him, observing the disbelief that lined his features. It was easier for her—even if that was hardly the appropriate word.
The truth had presented itself to her on a platter, like some exquisite dish she, as surprised as she was, had no choice but to accept. After all, there was no reason not to.
Veles, however, had spent his whole existence aware of it, thinking it was a myth. Perhaps true. Perhaps not. Or maybe, it was the half-truths that were the key.
She knew all too well how that felt. The pack was no stranger to lore. It had a tendency to lock you in a vicious circle of trying to divide truth from lie without providing the means of pulling them apart.
After a while, you began to accept it for what it was. And the answer, when it deigns to present itself, becomes the very thing that turns your life upside down again.
Even if it was favorable.
“Spoken of what, Veles?” she asked, even when a part of her already knew—not in words, but intuition.
The god’s eyes met hers.
“Beings of power—not even of the same power—have difficulties remaining together; their energies may begin to misbehave, constantly flaring because such proximity is an unnatural concept for it. Energy seeks to radiate without being rebuffed or challenged. While it can be patient for a while, testing out the waters, maybe even trying to adjust, it does lash out eventually. This is why gods rarely consider having consorts from their own ranks. Or, at least, had considered, when there had still been enough of us… It was too tasking, paying attention to how many decades you could spend together before you needed to separate, only to be reunited again and continue with the endless circle. The power needed time to calm itself, and if not enough decades, sometimes centuries, had passed, it would only flare again at the very first meeting, nullifying the effort.
“Yet Mokoš lived with Perun until the god faded, diminished by the changes that had implemented themselves into the very structure of the world. She spent every day, every breath with him without a single incident. Because when you are bonded, the energies work together, recognizing each other as equals. As companions.”
The cigarette in Rose’s hand had burned down, the ashes lying on the table, undisturbed. She flicked the cigarette into the ashtray, breathing past her racing heart.
“You knew, didn’t you? That afternoon at Pri Sojenicah, when I told you I could sense the nuances of death with each soul I touched…”
Olive embers danced within his eyes, so similar to the display she had seen when he told her of her affinity for the living side of death—when he had said they were two sides of the same coin. Rose remembered the way he had looked at her then, the way his silent admiration had rendered him speechless, and she knew—she knew just what it meant for him to not be alone.
