by Katie May
her. How could she ever learn to love me, or at the very least care for me,
when I had to compete against six other amazing men? Would she even want
all of us as her mates? Or would she only want one of us? Or none of us?
“What the hell are we going to do?” Devlin asked in trepidation. His
ponytail had come loose at some point, and his hair was now an unruly mess.
It was strange to see our fearless leader so unkempt. His eyes flashed from
face to face, unable to fully focus on anyone in particular.
In that moment, I hated him. I hated my best friend. He had her first, had
her love, and he had thrown it all away. I knew his reasoning - hell, I even
understood it - but I didn’t know how to look at him anymore with anything
but disgust . My Bear growled restlessly in the confines of my mind. He
wanted to roam free and find her. Claim her. He knew she was ours, and he
would be damned if he let her out of his sight again.
“She’s our mate. What even is there to do?” Dair asked reasonably. He
was the only one who didn’t seem perpetrated by the aspect of sharing. I
knew Mermaids often had polyamorous relationships. His dad himself had
five wives, something nearly unheard of in the supernatural community.
“I don’t...I don’t know if I can…” Devlin ran a hand through his hair. I
watched my brother’s jerky movements with narrowed eyes.
“So what? You’re going to demand that she chooses only one of us?
Demand that she chooses you?” My words were nearly inarticulate. I was
losing control, fast, and my growl was just another indication.
“I don’t fucking know! There’s seven of us and only one of her!”
“Six,” Bash said. He was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, watching
our interaction with impassive eyes. He tried to give out the front that he gave
zero shits about her, but I wasn’t an idiot. “Don’t group me into this equation.
I want nothing to do with her.”
I snorted.
He could deny it all he wanted, but even he wasn’t immune to Zara’s
magnetic pull. It was more than just the bond between us. It was her. Her
radiant smile, her musical laugh, the way the skin between her brows creased
when she was deep in thought. I wanted to learn everything there was to
know about her. I wanted to pull her apart, piece by piece, until her essence
was bared before me. There was still so much I had yet to learn about her,
and I had the distinct feeling that years of intensive studying would still fail
to reveal who Zara was as a person.
It was only a matter of time until Bash realized that as well. He was hers,
whether he wanted to be or not.
“So what do you suppose we do?” Devlin asked tersely. “Share her? Pass
her around like she is a damn possession?”
“We talk to her about it. Ask her what she wants to do. She’s my mate,
and I’m not giving her up.” For the first time in forever, Killian spoke
without a single stutter. His eyes were pure steel as he surveyed the room.
“I love her,” Devlin whispered softly.
“So it’s settled then.” Dair glanced from face to face. “We talk to her.
And we don’t treat her like a possession. Everything is, and always will be,
her choice. Is that clear?”
I couldn’t help but snort.
“Oh please. If she didn’t want to do something, she could easily kill us. I
think it’s safe to say that we know who wears the pants in this relationship.”
The men smiled softly. Even Bash’s lips curved upwards though he
quickly tried to hide it.
“She’s gone! She disappeared, and I will never find her again!” Atta, with
an elaborate flourish, entered the kitchen. She dramatically draped herself
onto a bar stool.
“What’s your problem?” Bash snapped. He could never handle my
sister’s theatrics. Not that I blamed him. There was only so much I myself
could handle before I wanted to strangle her.
“My mate, of course,” said Atta, as if the answer was obvious. Bash
rolled his eyes and muttered “of fucking course” beneath his breath.
“Please don’t tell me your mate is Zara.” Devlin pinched the bridge of his
nose in exasperation. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle another person
thrown into this equation.” Atta raised her eyebrow in confusion.
“Nooo...that’s Lupe’s mate. Mine is her beautiful, sexy friend. Mali.” She
spoke the name wistfully, as if it was something sacred. I wondered if I said
Zara’s name with the same reverence.
“She looked as if she wanted to stab you in the eyes,” I pointed out. Atta
swiveled her head to glare at me.
“You’re one to talk.”
A ear-splitting scream interrupted my retort.
From the ballroom.
Where Zara was.
Before I realized what was happening, my feet were propelling me back
towards the room. I was dimly aware of the others following behind me, but I
could barely concentrate on them. My entire focus was on Zara.
She had to be okay. She had to. The alternative was too horrible to even
think about.
Fear, real, unrelenting fear, settled heavily in my chest, a leaden feeling. I
couldn’t recall the last time I had felt such a strong emotion before. Fear, and
your consequential responses towards it, was a funny thing. Each person had
a fight or flight response that was only amplified when one experienced such
a strong emotion. For so long, I had ran away from my problems. Always
running. Always fleeing.
This was the first time I had ever been willing to fight. Maybe Zara was
already rubbing off on me. My little fighter.
There was only one door that led to the ballroom, and it was unexpectedly
locked. Not even my impressive Shifter strength could open the door. After
one more ineffectual shove of my shoulder against the wooden frame, I
turned towards my brothers helplessly.
“It’s spelled,” Bash whispered, eyes narrowing.
“Can you break it?” Ryland asked from the shadows. He sounded as tense
as we all felt. The carefree guy had been transformed into a prowling tiger
out for the kill.
“Give me a minute.”
“But can you break it?” Devlin asked. His eyes were glowing as if
someone had lit a candle beneath the surface. His dark hair swayed in the
breeze created by his own power. He needed to calm down before the entire
building collapsed in on itself. We all needed to calm down. My own Bear
was pacing, clawing, gnawing in a desperate attempt to break free. I could
feel my carefully constructed cage begin to break with each second that
passed.
“Give me a damn minute!” Bash screamed. He squeezed his eyelids shut
as he concentrated on the intricate spellwork.
“Can you feel her?” I asked Devlin. I knew that his bond with her was
stronger than the others. If anyone would be able to feel her presence, it
would be him.
“I don’t know. I can’t concentrate. I can’t…” Once again, he pulled at his
hair.
“Well fucking try,” Killian snapped. Before Devlin could respond, the
door to the ballroom bursted open.
I shoved Bash out of my way in my haste
to get inside.
I needed to see with my own eyes that she was okay. For my own sanity,
she had to be alright.
The sight before me…
It was something I would never be able to unsee. Bodies loitered the
ballroom floor. Though all of their faces were unrecognizable, I could
distinctly make out dresses of various colors and fabrics. The Matching
competitors. Innocent women. Mixed in with them were the bodies that could
only be participants of The Damning.
And their faces…
Charred, black skin greeted me. Smoke filtered from their bodies, the
pungent smell assaulting my senses. If I were to live a thousand more years, I
would never see a sight as horrendous as this one.
“Another spell,” Bash whispered. One of my brothers began to throw up
behind me.
And yet, despite all of the death mere inches from me, I could only feel
relief. Not one of these bodies had a purple dress on.
Zara wasn’t there.
“She’s not here.” Devlin must’ve came to the same conclusion I had.
Unlike me, he didn’t sound at all comforted by the fact that she had missed
this brutal attack. Because if she wasn’t there, where the hell was she?
I knew, as surely as I knew my own name, that she was in trouble. I
didn’t know if it was my own intuition or the bond between us.
In a span of seconds, my body shifted from my human form and into my
bear one. He clawed at the air angrily, seven-hundred pounds of pure muscle.
Nobody would hurt my mate.
I would make sure of that.
TWENTY-SEVEN
DEVLIN
Ididn’t know how to even begin to describe my panic when I opened the
ballroom door and saw row after row of dead bodies. Most people
would be relieved - after all, not one had on the purple dress Z was
wearing earlier - but all I could feel was a smothering fear. The intensity of
such an emotion threatened to consume me, threatened to plunge me beneath
wave after wave of icy water with no hope of escape. It slithered down my
spine, this absolute terror, until I had trouble distinguishing one emotion from
the next.
Fear.
Terror.
Heartache.
She wasn’t there.
And if there was one thing I knew about Z, it was that she wouldn’t have
left all of these people to their gruesome fate if she had a choice. She fought
for what she believed in, fought for the innocents. It was just the type of
person she was. Though she had her own personal darkness, she also had a
brilliant light that was too pure for this world. Too pure for me.
“Fuck!” I screamed. My hands once again pulled at my brown hair. Z
always joked that this was a horrible habit I had to break and that I would
turn bald before I reached thirty. I would retort that I would stop ripping my
hair out the second she stopped chewing on her nails. Fighting with her were
some of my happiest memories.
Taking a stuttering breath, I focused on the bond. I could feel it extending
from my chest, reaching for the essence that was innately Z. I would describe
it as a flame, a flicker of light in a darkened cave. Just as quickly, my
connection to her vanished.
“Fuck!” I cursed again.
“Focus,” Killian said from beside me. “You need to focus and find her.”
I ignored him. I ignored Lupe’s growl as his Bear completely consumed
him. I ignored everything besides the intermittent flicking of Z’s vibrant light
at the end of the bond.
I would find her. I had to.
TWENTY-EIGHT
DAIR
Ihad never allowed myself to see my paralyzation as a handicap. It was
merely something that was a part of me, like the fact I turned into a
Mermaid twelve-hours every day. It was one of the many facets that
made me...me. I had long since accepted that I would never be able to walk
again, never be able to dance again, never be able to run again. I was
confined to my chair, and for the most part, I was okay with that.
Except for now.
As my brothers all ran towards the ballroom, they failed to remember me
and my damn chair. This particular section of the Capital had never been the
most accessible for people like me, mainly because it was immensely rare to
see a Nightmare with any type of disability. We were designed to be the
epitome of perfection. Predators. The top of the food chain.
Cussing beneath my breath, my wheel got stuck on a section of carpeting.
Movements erratic, I attempted to maneuver myself over the obstacle. At that
moment, I hated myself and my weakness. How would I be able to protect Z
when I could barely look after myself? The answer was simple: I wouldn’t be
able to.
“Shit,” I murmured after I had finally freed my chair.
“What has got you in such a foul mood?” a familiar voice asked in my ear
slyly. Flinching, I glanced over my shoulder to see my brother's smirking
face. It seemed to be perpetually etched across his features, that damn smile.
Before I could respond to his taunts, he began to wheel me in the opposite
direction of the ballroom.
“Where the hell are you taking me?” I hissed, my thin patience
splintering. I normally considered myself a mild-mannered individual, but
just then, I felt like a lion out for the kill. I needed to get to Z, my mate. I had
to see for myself that she was okay.
I never expected the mating bond to be like this. I had heard stories, of
course, but they all paled in comparison to the actual thing. There was an
ache in my chest to be with her, to see her smile, and to make her happy. I
didn’t think it was possible for me to be happy if she wasn’t. Being away
from her, knowing she was in danger, was torture. I had barely met the girl,
and already she was consuming every single thought I had.
“Father would like to speak with you,” my brother, Tavvy, said
conversationally. At those words, my blood went cold.
God no.
Not now.
“I have somewhere I have to be. Maybe later would be a better time,” I
tried, attempting to dampen my growing panic. If there was one thing I knew
about my older brother, it was that he had an acute sense for fear. The man
relished in it, the sensation, as if it was his own personal fetish. I wondered if
it actually was. I kept my features impassive and my tone nonchalant as I
spoke.
“Quiet!” A blistering slap hit my cheek, and I squeezed my eyelids shut.
Don’t react. Don’t react.
“I apologize.” My jaw ticked, but I continued on doggedly. “I shouldn’t
have spoken out of turn.”
Pleased with my response, Tavvy wheeled me into the throne room.
The first person I saw was my father, a haughty tilt to his head and a fur
robe adorning his body. I knew that the fur would’ve belonged to a deceased
Shifter. It was a power play, that robe. A game. The only problem was that
there was no rulebook to the twisted politics that plagued the nation.
His five wives sat in semi-circle around him. I recognized his fated mate,
Eli
se, and her cold, unwavering stare. Beside her, was my own mother,
Brigid. She offered me a timid wave when she saw me, and my own lips
instinctively curved upwards into a half-hearted smile.
My mother wasn’t my father’s mate. She had a mate - the father of my
sister - but she had been forced to leave him when father became aware of her
ethereal beauty. He was jealous, envious, that such a beautiful creature
existed and wasn’t tied to him. He stole her away that very night and made
her his bride.
Peeling my attention away from my mother, I raised my eyes towards the
domineering man that seemed to innately command respect and attention
from everyone in the room. It wasn’t just because he was a large and
impressive man, though there was no denying that he was, but more so the
amount of power that he emitted. Anyone with a brain would know that he
was someone to be both feared and worshiped.
“Dair! My son! Welcome!” He extended his arms in greeting as if we
were old friends instead of enemies. He may have been my father, but I hated
him. I hated what he stood for, and I hated what he had done to me and the
people I loved.
“What do you want father?”
I prepared myself for the inevitable pain - my body tensing, my eyes
twitching, and my mind closing down. All of these meetings ended the same
way. The sooner I was tortured, the sooner it would be over, and the sooner I
could find Z. It was the thought of her that gave me the strength and courage
to meet my father’s eyes. Eyes that were the exact same shade of azule as my
own.
“I’m going to get straight to the point.” He paused, his strident voice
echoing in the spacious room. It was merely an attempt at dramatics, that
pause. A pathetic one. “What do you know of the competitor Z?”
His words were like a bucket of ice water being thrown over my head.
Whatever I had expected him to say, it wasn’t that. My body tensed under his
scrutiny, but I tried to keep my face apathetic. He couldn't have known about
Z being my mate.
No. There must be another explanation.
“I know that he is a competitor for The Damning,” I said, keeping my
voice indifferent. Shrugging, I added, “Besides that, nothing. Why are you
interested in him?”
The smile he offered me felt like snakes slithering down my spine. Evil.
