Fate's Fools Box Set

by Bell, Ophelia

  She regarded me warily for a moment, then nodded. “All right, I will, but I mean it—you don’t have to do this to repay me. I’m coming just as a friend. I’ve never seen a live Fate’s Fools show, and it’s probably time I did.”

  I gave her a farewell hug and closed the door behind her, then turned off the lights. On my way past the sofa, I paused, struck by the utter peace on Llyr’s features. With the shadows of insanity held at bay by Callie’s magic, I could finally let myself look at him without fear of losing my mind. I was still painfully aware of his link to Ozzie, his aura a silvery cloud around the pale aqua bubble he’d had when we met, but now it didn’t hurt as much to see.

  I took a few quiet steps closer, swallowing as I knelt at his side and gazed at his lovely, sleeping face. I let my regret have full rein, an apology bubbling forth before I could stop it.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you,” I whispered, laying a hand on his cheek. “You were my first for a little while. That memory will never die any more than my memory of my first night with Ozzie. You are both so important to me. I can’t just give in to this need out of desperation. I hope you know that.”

  Llyr stirred slightly beneath my touch, his breath coming out in a slow exhale as his eyelids fluttered open. I bit my lip, holding still as his gaze focused on my face. Had he heard what I’d said?

  “Deva,” he rasped. “Are you all right?”

  “Better,” I said, nodding.

  “Hmm, good.” He turned onto his side and shifted back against the rear cushions, making room, then patted the spot in front of him and raised his eyebrows.

  My heart thumped in my chest, the desire for him to hold me overcoming my fear of the other needs his closeness might provoke. I wanted his comfort too much right now to care.

  I settled down on my side, sighing when he allowed me to rest my head on his arm and wrapped his other around me. With a long, slow exhale, I conjured a soft blanket to cover us both and snuggled down in his embrace, content for the first time in ages.

  12

  Deva

  Spring Equinox, One Year Ago

  It’s difficult not to stare around in wide-eyed wonder when we’re led through the winding paths inside the Realm of the Gods. Not even my borrowed memories from the Thiasoi compare. I’ve never been to the Haven—though thanks to their memories, I know it’s beautiful—but this . . . The sparkling spires and lush flowering landscapes are a feast for my eyes.

  Ozzie places a hand against my back and I glance up at him, the wonder extending to this man at my side whose voice helped me endure my body’s transformation. He doesn’t look as awed as I feel, though, and my face falls.

  “What is it?” I ask, keeping my voice low so the pretty robed woman leading us doesn’t hear.

  “I’ll explain when we get to our quarters,” Ozzie says. His brows are drawn with worry and I take his hand, squeezing gently.

  “It will be all right,” I say, not sure why I feel the need to comfort him, but I don’t like seeing him troubled. He’s done everything for me. I should repay the favor in some way.

  Our usher takes us to a set of steps concealed amid the greenery. The smooth, pale marble staircase leads to a landing, then turns, extending higher until we reach an ornately carved wooden door with a polished stone set high in the center. Flowering vines cascade around it, sheltering the landing from the sunlight. The woman turns to us.

  “These are your chambers. You are to remain within until you have fulfilled your promise to the Gatekeeper. Once you are inside, the door will not permit passage again except to a creature who has a soul.”

  She reaches up and touches the translucent stone. It’s a pale, milky gray, but when her fingers brush over it, it begins to glow with inner fire. She opens the door and gestures for us to enter.

  “Thank you. We understand the terms,” Ozzie says, turning back around to face her while I marvel at the interior of the rooms we’ve been given.

  “Food and bath will be provided as your needs dictate. There is no need to voice the request, but if you have other needs, just speak to the stone in the door. When the war in the mortal realm is done, you will be sent back. If you fail to abide by the terms of your entry, you will also be sent back.”

  “We will abide by it,” I say, returning to Ozzie’s side. I grip his hand again, determined to make sure he knows I will not fail him in this. The woman smiles blandly and closes the door.

  “Why are you scared?” I ask. “You’re doing this to protect me.”

  He turns without looking at me, without even seeing the beauty of our surroundings. The room is filled with sunlight from three walls of arched windows. Beyond their frames, miles of rolling hills and forests and bright blue sky sprawl. More towers rise, scattered across the landscape, and I imagine other girls like me waiting with their saviors within.

  Ozzie’s hands are clenched as he stalks through the room to another door, which he pushes open partway and pauses, staring. He’s so still it worries me, so I move to his side and peer in past his shoulder. All I see is a big bed covered in silver embroidered silk.

  “We shouldn’t waste time,” I say, though the words sound strange. I’m still trying to understand what the word “time” means. I’ve been in the world for less than a day, yet I have eons of memories. I only understand what it means to wait so long for something the longing for it stretches until it becomes like a thread ready to snap.

  Ozzie jerks under the touch I press to his shoulder and turns, closing the door. He leans against it and looks down at me. His previously blue eyes are gray and stormy now, but he takes a slow breath and the storms grow calm.

  “Deva, what we must do to grant you a soul is something you shouldn’t have to do so soon. It isn’t as easy as me handing it to you.” He holds out his hand, palm up, as if offering me an invisible gift.

  “I’m not afraid,” I say. “My life hasn’t exactly been easy so far. Why would this be different?”

  Ozzie drops his gaze, his dark blond brows descending. I lift a hand and brush my thumb down the crease in his forehead, an impulsive gesture, but I want to ease his worries, and so far my touch has been the only thing that calms him when my words fail.

  He sighs and takes my hand in his, holding it against his chest. His heart is racing and a flickering glow flares to life around him. I smile until I realize the aura I see suggests fear, and that makes no sense. We’re safe here, so why should he be afraid?

  “Deva,” he begins, then halts and swallows. He looks into my eyes, fear warring with determination in those stormy irises. “In order to give you a piece of my soul, we have to . . . we have to make love.”

  His expression is so serious. I’m not sure what I expected, but it isn’t this. My face warms, the flush extending down through my body, causing my breasts to feel too tight in the pale gown I’m wearing and my core to clench.

  “Is making love supposed to be feared?” I ask him, trying to understand his hesitance. I’ve shared memories with five satyrs since shortly after I became aware of my own existence. Were their impressions of the concept false? All those memories tell me this is something wonderful to be enjoyed, savored. Something to revel in, not dread.

  His expression clears and his brows lift. “What? No! Fucking hell, that’s not what I want you to think. It’s . . . shit, it’s supposed to be special. Wonderful. Joining your body with the person you love is a beautiful thing.”

  “Then why are you afraid of it?” I ask.

  “Because the circumstances are less than ideal. It isn’t something you should be forced into. You should be allowed to do it on your own terms, with the person—or people—you love.”

  “So we will do it on our terms,” I say, confused by his explanation. It sounds like he’s suggesting our situation is somehow not what he describes.

  “We’re already trapped,” he says. “Our desires aren’t a factor.”

  “Why not? Love is the key word, isn’t it? I love you. I’
d like to make love to you. At least, I think I would. I’d like to try.” I smile shyly at him, pressing my palms flat against his chest.

  Ozzie only stares at me, stricken. “You can’t know that. You don’t even know what it means.”

  My smile fades and I stare up into his eyes. Then it occurs to me that perhaps I’ve misunderstood him.

  “I thought I did,” I say. “I thought your protection and the sacrifice you made to bring me here meant you loved me. Every word you sang to me to push the pain away, to encourage my body to become this . . . ”

  I gesture down my torso at the shape I have—which took no small amount of pain to achieve. I have a woman’s body, and long for a woman’s experiences.

  “You helped me become what I am, helped me catch up to what I know, what I feel. Was that not love?”

  He blinks at me and releases a surprised breath. “Yes.”

  “So you love me too,” I say. “Then why are you afraid?”

  His eyes clear to a pale blue, not quite the brightness I remember, but close. He laughs and shakes his head, then lifts his hand to touch my cheek. “By the Winds, you are something else, Deva Rainsong.”

  “Something good?” I ask, pleased he’s smiling.

  “Something potentially amazing, but dangerous as fuck.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Is that what scares you? That I might be dangerous?”

  He snorts softly and nods. “Yeah, you could say that.” He tilts his head back, thunking it against the door behind him. The door to the bedroom, which I realize now was the source of his strange behavior a moment ago. The bed is where we’re supposed to be making love, except he still seems to need to talk about it.

  Patience is a concept I’m familiar with, thanks to my link to the Thiasoi. They were held captive by the enemy far longer than I was—and they may be there still, though I hope that this war waging in the mortal realm will see them freed. Within their sustaining life blood, they communicated the power of biding one’s time. I can be patient, though I also must remain conscious of our deadline. We’ve been given one night. If I fail to possess a soul by morning, we will be expelled.

  Taking a breath, I clutch Ozzie’s hand and lead him to a soft, pillow-covered settee. I sit and gather my knees beneath me, glancing up at him when I’m situated. He gives me an odd look until I pat the cushion next to me.

  “I promise I’m not dangerous,” I say. “But explain what you mean so I can understand.”

  He flops down with a heavy sigh and rubs his hands over his face, then rakes long fingers through his golden hair. The waves spring back, sunlight glinting on strands of silver hidden within. I’d like to touch his hair, to see if it’s as silky smooth as it looks, or if the stubble on his cheeks is rough. Perhaps my desire is what makes me dangerous and I should keep it to myself. I look at him expectantly, hoping he’ll illuminate me on the truth.

  “Sharing my soul with you is against one of the oldest turul laws,” he says. “If I do this . . . ” He pauses and frowns down at his hands, then shakes his head. “When I do this, it might make us both targets once we leave here. Targets of Fate.”

  The word “Fate” means nothing to me and I frown at him. “Is Fate worse than Meri?”

  “For me, yes, potentially. For you . . . I don’t know. You weren’t born with a soul, so it’s likely Fate isn’t even aware of your existence. But when I share my soul with you, I’ll be severing a tie to someone else. Someone Fate chose for me, and Fate will be angry.”

  “Do you love this other person?” I ask. “Will they be hurt?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t even know them, and no . . . they won’t ever know. It will be as though I never existed.”

  He trails off, his gaze distant. After a moment, I say, “I feel sad that you will never know if you could have loved them. And sad for them never knowing you, never knowing what it feels like to be loved by you.”

  He turns to me, eyes that piercing blue once more. “Being loved by me is what is dangerous. That’s what makes you dangerous, Deva. But it’s your safety I fear for, not my own. I would gladly die to protect you, but this might put you in danger too.”

  “We don’t have a choice, if we wish to stay here. I’m not afraid of Fate. I am afraid of what awaits me back there.”

  “You only say that because you don’t know what Fate is capable of . . . ” He trails off when he looks at me, then curses. “I just want you to understand what’s to come. I’m not asking you to choose between two perils. Fate may never learn you exist, but I can’t expect you to remain off its radar as long as we’re linked. The only way you would be safe is to somehow forget this night ever happened.”

  “But it hasn’t happened yet.”

  “No . . . ” He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ve got me there.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk,” I say. “You were willing to risk your life for me, so why shouldn’t I be willing to do the same? And if my memory is the thing that will protect us, then the gods can make us forget. Fate can’t punish us for something we have no memory of.”

  “That’s actually not a bad plan,” he says.

  “Then let it be known.” I stand and walk to the door. When I reach up and touch the pale stone pulsing with veins of brilliant color, its center brightens. A voice hums forth.

  “What do you desire, guest?”

  “When I leave this room, can you make me forget what transpired within it?” I ask.

  “Yes,” the voice replies. “Is that your wish?”

  “It is. For me and my friend.”

  “Your friend must make his own request.”

  “Okay, then just for me,” I say, glancing back at Ozzie.

  “It will be done,” the voice says, and the light dims.

  “Does that work?” I say when I reach Ozzie again. “You’ll have to make your own request.”

  His blue gaze is intent on my face, staring up at me when I pause to stand before him. “There’s time enough for that,” he says, his voice gruff. “Are you ready?”

  “Making love means I can touch you, right? In any way I wish?”

  His eyes burn into me and he nods. “Yes. It means we get to touch each other in any way we wish, if the other person doesn’t object. But if you ever object, you must say so; that’s not negotiable.”

  “I understand,” I breathe, already tingling in anticipation of the freedom he’s giving me. My body feels tight with the swelling need to give into those urges, yet I hesitate, not sure where I should begin.

  Ozzie shifts forward, spreading his knees and bracketing my legs where I still stand indecisive before him. He takes my hands in his, kisses the center of each palm, and holds one hand to his cheek, his eyes falling closed.

  “You first,” he whispers.

  13

  Deva

  I let out a shuddering breath, keeping my hand against the rough stubble on Ozzie’s cheek when he drops his hand to his knee. I curl my fingertips and graze them across the short hairs, enjoying the raspy texture. It’s softer than I imagined, but still rougher than skin.

  Experimentally, I brush my thumb across his lips. They’re silky and warm. Then I lift my other hand and comb my fingers through his hair.

  Ozzie closes his eyes and I simply look at him, taking full advantage of the freedom he’s giving me. I want to experience every second, waste not a single moment of this chance I have. Every one of my senses is alive with the awareness of him, though he isn’t touching me. He’s given me leave to touch him, but it isn’t just contact I crave.

  I drink in his face in all its angular beauty: his dark gold lashes against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. I move closer, tangling both hands in his hair and dipping my head to breathe him in. His locks are soft against my lips and smell of an arid spice I’m not sure I know, though it exists somewhere within the reservoir of memories the Thiasoi have infused me with.

  He smells like the ocean, I realize, and I turn my head, brushin
g my cheek across his forehead as I slide my hands down the sides of his face again, urging his head back.

  Ozzie opens his eyes and peers up into mine. He releases his knees then, barely brushing his fingers over the fabric of my dress.

  “May I touch you?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “May I kiss you?”

  “Please,” he replies at a moan.

  I bend my head as he tilts his back, and a breath escapes me as our lips meet. His hands bunch in my skirt, fingers wrapping around the backs of my thighs. He opens his mouth beneath mine and I dart my tongue out, some strange need to taste him overcoming me. It seems he has the same need and our tongues slide together, a jolt of desire shooting down my spine.

  I suddenly crave nothing but contact. His hands are on me, but the barrier of my dress hinders his touch. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to ask for more. I don’t know the rules. I’m afraid of doing something wrong that will make him stop.

  As if sensing my worry, he pulls away far enough to look up into my eyes. His breathing is quick, his cheeks flushed.

  “What can I do?” he asks. His question is enough to ease my worry.

  “Touch my skin,” I say.

  He clenches his fingers in my dress, his gaze growing dark. The fabric lifts as he gathers it in his hands, and then he slides his fingers beneath the hem and around the backs of my thighs. His touch is lighter this time, a caress along my heated flesh, and I gasp.

  “Good?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I breathe, pushing closer, but I’m already as close as I can get. I rest my forearms on his shoulders and press my forehead to his, weak from just his light touch on my legs. He curves his fingertips inward and upward, grazing them along the creases at the tops of my thighs. As he traces the edge of my conjured undergarment, he hisses.