Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“There’s an elixir touted to create a union stronger than fated mates, but I’ve heard the side effects are devastating. I can research what that means.”
“Thank you.” But he doubted it would do what he needed.
“I wonder if I can forge a collar with some kind of bond-breaking alloy,” Silver muttered, picking up his sketchbook and drawing.
“I must go,” Azar grated. Yes, he truly hated himself.
Silver didn’t hear him, just continued drawing. Azar flashed to the conference room.
A grinning Lore greeted him. She perched atop the long rectangular table, swinging her legs, stunningly beautiful in a recreation of the dress she’d died in: a black-and-white Victorian-era ball gown.
His nerve endings awoke for her, singing. His blood heated. He swallowed a rebuke.
Maximus remained in his chair, shackled and gagged.
“Did you miss me?” she purred, crooking her finger at Azar. “Being away from me, even for a few minutes, must be awful for you.”
He dug in his heels, staying put. For three seconds. In the end, he stepped between her legs.
“I love your resistance.” Chuckling, she ghosted her fingers along his jaw. Though she was in spirit form, he felt the tingle of her touch. “The time has come, darling. I need you fully on my side, not deluding yourself with thoughts of victory.”
He knew of what she referred. Of course he knew. He’d just tried to take measures against it. But even then, he’d separated himself from the truth. “Don’t do this, goddess.”
“Oh, I’m doing it.” Tone indulgent but firm, she said, “Be my good Astra. Put the bone in its sheath, stop trying to forget, and let yourself remember the horrific thing you did.”
An order he could not refuse. Because she owned him and had from the beginning.
He placed his bounty with the others: in a sheath that hung from the back of his waist. Seconds later, the floodgates in his mind opened, and the memory overtook him. The day he’d killed Lore. She’d seemed to know why he’d appeared. Had tearfully begged him not to kill her. To let her live for the first time. But he’d ripped out her heart in the way of the ancients anyway.
Afterward, he’d replayed the interaction on repeat, unable to boot her image from his thoughts. He’d heard the tale of her bones and hunted down the skull. She’d appeared to him the day he’d found it, still acting like a damsel in distress. In fact, she’d appeared to him every day after for months, and his hand had burned to make stardust for her.
He remembered how he’d grown to believe he loved her. How, when she’d pretended to fade, he’d done the unthinkable... Had sung the song she’d taught him, thinking to share his strength with her by joining their spirits. In actuality, he’d bound his will to hers. Her plan all along.
From there, she’d ordered him to keep everything about her a secret. She’d ceased to visit him, only to reappear with a new attitude and a fresh order just before the assigning of his blessing task. Throw her skull into the sea.
He’d been compelled to obey. Exactly as he was compelled to obey every order she issued. Even if it meant betraying his brethren. Males he respected and loved.
“That’s my sweet Astra,” she cooed. “I do adore seeing revulsion overtake your pretty face. By the way, you will stand there, be still and quiet from now until the meeting with Rathbone ends. You may not speak telepathically with the Astra or leave this room.”
Acid poured through his veins. “What is Erebus paying you?” Only the Deathless would have plotted something to make an Astra this miserable before ruining his life.
“He’s not paying me anything.” She stood and moved away from him, then angled to the side as Erebus materialized. “He’s my true fated mate.”
Azar didn’t jolt—on the outside. Lore and Erebus, lovers. Of course. Erebus and his Blade of Destiny always knew who to target.
Erebus closed the distance, the hem of his dark robe swaying at his feet. Rage slashed at Azar’s calm veneer. He could only stand there, silent and immobile, as his greatest enemy stopped directly in front of him. Mistress’s orders.
“You’re right, goddess.” Erebus wrapped an arm around Lore’s waist and kissed her temple. The creator of phantoms had ways of touching spirits that others did not. “His look of revulsion is priceless.” Another kiss, this one directly on her lips, while staring at Azar.
He wished he wasn’t bothered by the sight of the two together.
“We’ll get to see it again soon.” She giggled, resting her head on Erebus’s shoulder and petting his chest.
Interesting. Azar recognized that high-pitched grating sound for what it was: fake. Did she play Erebus, too?
He almost—almost—laughed.
“As you can guess, I’ve always had an ace,” the god said, smug in his ignorance. “I bided my time, awaiting the day you would help me devastate the Astra. Finally, that day has come. Or it will. At the final ceremony, your brothers-in-arms will realize the depths of your betrayal, and each of you will die in anguish.”