by Raye Wagner
“Sorry,” I muttered and wiped my shirt’s hem over the streak, which smeared more blood on his lips.
Eww. Crap, I’m making this worse.
I dropped my shirt hem and reached for his. That was seriously gross, but…
Once again, the glowy magic seemed to melt into his skin and disappear. I wiped away the blood and frowned. His lips no longer had that blue tinge to them. If my blood was magically helping him somehow, then maybe…
Forgive me, Rage.
I pried open his teeth and slipped my bleeding finger into his mouth, enough to get at least a drop of blood on his tongue.
Clearly, I was desperate and psycho, treating my mate like a vampire, but I’d do anything to save him. No way could this day get any worse.
I watched him—full-on stared—and when Rage took several unlabored breaths, I sagged with relief.
Maybe it was working…
His chest shuddered, and he released a long exhale. At least, his breathing was getting better.
Except he didn’t take another one.
I counted to ten and then counted to ten again.
Oh, mage.
Scratch kissing. If all those Grey’s Anatomy reruns were right, now it was time for mouth-to-mouth. Had my blood only hastened his death? The thought punched me in the stomach, and tears burned my eyes as I yanked my finger from his mouth.
There were ratios for mouth to mouth breathing, but I had no idea what they were. Twenty breaths a minute? Ten? Fifty? Five? Why didn’t Grey’s Anatomy cover these important details? And CPR included chest compressions, but a quick check told me his heart was still beating—for now.
Seriously, if Rage ever became alpha king, I’d make him change the curriculum at the academy. First-aid would be mandatory for all incoming students.
After sucking in a deep breath, I lowered my mouth to his and blew. A wet raspberry noise curdled the air around my ears. Obviously, that wasn’t right.
I probably needed to open his mouth. Wasn’t there something about the mouth in the ABCs of CPR? Was that tidbit of info from Grey’s? I had no idea, but it seemed reasonable, and I clung to the knowledge like a lifeline. I tugged on his chin, relieved when his lips parted. After another deep breath, I lowered my head and let my lips rest on his, then I exhaled into his open mouth. Halfway through, I realized I needed a better seal, including one over his nose.
Holy Mother Mage.
This was hard.
“Please,” I begged Rage’s unconscious form. “Don’t you dare leave me.”
What had made him take such a drastic dive downhill? Grandpa had said an hour. Dammit! Why did Rage jump in after me?
My only assurance that he wasn’t dead came because I didn’t see his spirit. I would’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind if I had. Once more, I took a deep breath, and then, while pinching his nose closed, I pressed my lips to his. With a forceful exhale into Rage’s mouth, I felt his chest rise.
Halle-frickin-lujah!
Tears rolled down my cheeks. After I blew into his mouth the next time, I tasted the salt from my tears when I licked my lips.
Wait—wait—wait! I blinked, trying to process through my panic. I glanced at my finger— The cut was sealed. So if my blood had somehow … I donno … healed him when I’d put a small bit in his mouth, then maybe more of it … would do better? Maybe I couldn’t think straight, but the idea of my blood having magic seemed plausible, considering Surlama’s greediness for it. And if a little on the tongue was good…
After another breath, I grabbed Rage’s dagger and sliced through my palm, hissing at the fresh sting. As soon as blood beaded on my skin, the glowing purplish hue reinforced my cray-cray plan. I drew the dagger over the wound again, making it deep enough that it wouldn’t heal right away. As the blood dripped onto his shirt, I opened his hand. After a deep breath, I dragged the blade over the meaty part of his palm and then smashed our hands together like we were making a blood pact.
This better work…
I stalker-stared at my mate, noting the rise and fall of his chest, the thrum of his pulse in his neck, the color of his skin. He looked better, but the seconds became minutes, which felt like an eternity. Was he going to wake up?
“Rage!” I shook him, desperation once again taking hold of me.
With a deep gasp, his eyelids flew open.
“You ass—” I hiccupped and choked on my own breath, then proceeded to sob and smack at him, while relief coursed through me. “I…” Cough, sob, smack. “…thought you were…” Cough. Smack. Hiccup. “…dead.”
He rubbed his chest but was grinning. “Me too,” he said hoarsely. “I couldn’t breathe.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know what you did, but … thanks for saving me.”
I forced a swallow and drank him in. His color was slightly improved, not so ashy but still pale.
His wide eyes shone like emeralds, and his gaze dipped to my lips as his pulled up into a smirk. “I’m still feeling a bit off. I might need another round of CPR.”
I rolled my eyes. He nearly died, and all he could think about was kissing?
“I-I think it’s my blood helping you.” I gave him a short accounting of the events and how my blood practically glowed here, my voice trembling as my adrenaline waned.
“Kinky.” He winked, his gaze heating as it caressed me. Rage gathered me into his arms, and I rested my head to his chest, relishing the steady beat of his heart.
Reaching out, I smacked his chest but couldn’t help the hysterical giggle mixed with tears of relief. “W-we n-n-need to f-focus.”
“One kiss, love,” he pleaded with a huskiness in his voice that was super hot. “I need to feel you here.” He tapped his chest, giving me a lopsided grin. “Then, I’ll focus.”
He leaned forward, and I brushed my lips against his in a chaste kiss and then pulled back. “We’re on a mission, so…”
He groaned, but it didn’t escape me that the kiss did improve his color. Or maybe it was the blood.
Thunder rumbled through the air again, only this time, it reverberated through my legs. I peered up at the sky only to find it remained clear and bright.
What the…?
Then I heard it, something I recognized from living in Montana. No wonder there were no clouds in the sky. That wasn’t thunder … it was the pounding hooves of horses.
I scrambled up, tugging on Rage and hissing under my breath, “Someone’s coming—”
“Who are you?” a deep male voice sliced through the air from behind me.
I yipped in surprise, and only then did Rage climb to his feet, slower and more labored than normal.
“Who is that?” Rage asked, his hand balling into fists as his attention darted first to the left and then the right before facing me with a frown. He squinted at the air and then shook his head. “What’s going on?”
Shaking my head, I pointed at the four horsemen who loomed over us, three of them still on their mounts. Each of them was dressed in monochromatic colors, one each in red, black, white, and green. Despite their chiseled features and jacked bodies, there was something cold and decidedly other about the riders—enough to make my skin crawl. The one in red had dismounted, and he glared at us.
There was no point in asking Rage what I already knew. “You can’t see them, but there are horsemen here.”
I pushed Rage’s fists, hoping he would take the hint. ‘Please don’t attack them.’
‘The spirits?’ Rage asked in response. ‘They’re so transparent I can barely see them. Do you think they can hurt us?’
I froze, my entire body seizing up, but not because he could see the souls—although that was unexpected. His voice … was in my head!
‘Can you hear me?’ I hurled the question at him, shocked by this potential development. Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe there was something more to our blood-to-blood contact.
‘Yes,’ Rage told me with the freaky mind speak thing … like when we were wolves except more conversant.
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I needed someone—most likely my new-to-me grandfather—to explain all this magic. Mate magic, mage magic. None of it made any sense right now.
“I said, who are you?” the horseman snarled, stepping toward us.
He reached for a scythe, and I elbowed Rage in the side. ‘Follow my lead.’
I raised my hands up in surrender. “We’ve come to the Realm of the Dead to negotiate with the Keeper of Souls. Will you please take us to him?”
The horseman barked a laugh. Waving at Rage and me, he said to his companions, “They think they can negotiate with the Keeper.”
Two of the other horsemen didn’t so much as move, but one of them, the one dressed in black, slid his gaze toward me.
“Look closer, Finneas. She’s a spirit walker,” he said to the dude in red.
Red dude whipped his head in my direction, his eyebrows bunched together. “Why did you bring your human form here? Are you offering yourself to him?”
Rage growled, and I nudged him lightly. “No, I got tricked, okay? But I do have a gift for the Keeper of Souls.” I patted my back pocket. “Now, please, take us to him.”
He narrowed his eyes, seeming to regard me for a moment, and then he straightened. “Very well. You may enter, but it’s at your own risk.”
That sounded ominous, but I trusted my grandfather. We’d get out of here.
The red horseman snapped his fingers, and I felt a tug at my navel.
What the what?
Instead of looking up at the four horsemen, we now stared up at thick ornate loops and scrolls of the twenty-foot wrought-iron gates outside of a pathway to the glimmering white castle. Said castle had been—only a heartbeat ago—way up on a hill, at least a half-mile away.
“Did he just…?” I gaped, looking down the hill toward the orchards. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and clouds of dust rolled over the landscape as the riders galloped away over the horizon.
“Yeah.” Rage’s eyes were wide, and his skin a sickly shade of green. “That’s … a little unnerving.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant the horsemen or the fact that we’d just been … I don’t know what … transported across a massive space within a fraction of a second.
“Hello,” a woman said in a soft voice next to me.
Both Rage and I whirled on her. No way had she been there when we arrived.
The young woman, a willowy brunette, who looked like she might be twenty, smiled at us and then looked down at a clipboard in her hand. Behind her, the gates were now open, no longer blocking the pathway to the ginormous glittering castle.
Was it made of diamond, or did the light from the sky make it look that way?
She tapped her finger against the board in a staccato rhythm, and her smile disappeared. She raised her chin and, with her brow furrowed, asked, “Do you have an appointment to see the Keeper?”
“Uh…” I cleared my throat. “The uh … horseman dressed in red said we could.” Somehow, my statement sounded more like a question, so I gestured down the hill where I’d last seen the dude.
“Oh.” She frowned. “A walk-in. If you’ll just…” She glanced over her shoulder and then, turning back to me, held up her index finger. “One moment please.”
She disappeared. Like, she didn’t walk away, she just … vanished.
“This place is freaking me out,” I muttered.
Rage slipped his hand into mine, but he wasn’t looking so good. His skin was ashy again, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. But he was still standing, so that was a plus.
The woman reappeared, no more than two inches from Rage.
“Geeze!” He stumbled back, bumping into me.
“Sorry, dear.” The brunette woman offered him a small smile before shifting her attention to me. “Follow me. The Keeper will see you now.”
She walked through the gateway, and we followed. As we approached the castle, I realized there was a second, albeit smaller set of gates just outside the actual structure. She clapped twice in quick succession, and the second set of gates opened.
Why would the Keeper of Souls need two sets of gates? That kind of security among the living, I could understand, but here, surrounded by spirits? Rage and I shared a look and followed her inside.
“Whoa,” I breathed, turning right then left, not wanting to miss a single thing. This was beyond any opulence I’d ever seen. It was like pictures of a Vegas hotel pool with award-winning gardens multiplied by a million. Golden columns lined the peacock-blue opal walkway with an infinity pool that poured over the end of an… azurite stone waterfall. All of the crystals and minerals had me gaping. The view was insane. Over the hill, we could see the castle gardens, which overlooked a giant lake the color of sapphires with rolling emerald grass hills. In the distance, a black onyx wall rose from the ground, the last thing I could see on the horizon.
Something moved, and only then did I notice the thousands of ghostly forms milling about. The dead apparently played tennis, and some were water skiing on the lake while others sunbathed. I spotted more in the gardens and others enjoying a spectral picnic.
Was Honor out there?
I nudged Rage. “Okay, not gonna lie. This is not what I expected.”
He nodded, his eyes wide with shock as well.
The woman looked back over her shoulder at me. “Oh, this is the inner circle. Only those who lived honorably get to enjoy this area within the Realm of the Dead. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to be on the outer circle”—she tilted her head at the horizon—“beyond the dark wall.”
She winked as if that would make what she’d said any less terrifying.
“Live mortals!” a deep voice bellowed from over by the pool, and Rage and I both froze.
Pivoting, my gaze fell upon a giant of a man stepping out from between two columns. He dropped the black cloak he’d been wearing, and my jaw dropped.
The dude was an Adonis. The man looked like he was chiseled from stone. Rock hard muscles strained under his tan skin. He wore a shimmering gold speedo and nothing else. His dark hair feathered out, just kissing his shoulders.
I swallowed hard.
“Technically, we’re shifters,” Rage growled.
I hadn’t known my mate long, but his tone reeked of jealousy. He probably didn’t like the speedo-check I’d just done. Oops. This wouldn’t be the best time to get technical and mention I wasn’t just a shifter but apparently a half high mage as well. Best to keep the conversation brief.
The Keeper, at least I assumed this dude was the Keeper of Souls, grinned at Rage. “Whatever, you’re alive. I haven’t had live bodies here in ages! Whom do I owe for this wonderful gift?”
That could be taken in a lot of ways—a lot of creepy ways.
I gulped. “Surlama said you guys were friends—”
As I spoke, his upper lip pulled back into a sneer. “Surlama is a con artist and a hag. She’s screwed me out of a lot of souls over the years. I refuse to owe her a debt of gratitude.”
Wonderful. Of course they weren’t friends.
“Well, I brought you something.” I pulled the jewel Grandpa had given me and held it up. “A trade.”
The Keeper dude went very, very still. “Who gave you that?”
He was practically drooling, and I wondered what made this gem so special. Judging by the wealth all around us, he didn’t need more stones or crystals. He crossed the space, and as he drew closer, I shifted my weight from foot to foot.
After forcing a swallow, I replied, “The Mage Master of Spirit. Honor Midnight died like … an hour and a half ago, and we want him back. I’ve come to bargain for him and—”
Plucking it from my grasp, he shivered and popped it into his mouth and then swallowed it! “Deal,” he said with a grin. “When you get back to the surface, you may call for Honor, and I’ll let him go.”
Uh … that was easy. Maybe even too easy. I looked at Rage, who was frowning at the dude.
“Uh, the gem you just swallowed was to secure
our release as well,” I said, my stomach twisting uneasily. “I hope you didn’t misunderstand—”
“No, that wasn’t the deal.” The Keeper wagged a finger at me. “You said you came to trade for Honor Midnight’s release.”
“But you didn’t even let her finish speaking!” Rage snapped. “How is she supposed to call for Honor if she’s stuck down here? We need you to send us back to the mortal realm.”
“Sorry, pretty boy, the soul stone bought your brother’s release from this realm, not yours. And not hers.”
“You mean you won’t let us out of here?” My voice cracked as anger bubbled up inside of me.
He shrugged, clearly unperturbed by our distress. “Unless you have any more soul stones?”
Soul stone? What in the hell was that? Negotiating with swindlers was not in my skillset. At all.
“There must be something else you want! Blood of a virgin?” I extended my finger, and Rage swatted my hand away from the Keeper while glaring at me.
The Keeper laughed. “You’re both adorable. But what use is blood in the Realm of the Dead? Even yours, Spirit Walker.”
Okay…
“What about a favor? He’s going to be the alpha king one day.” I pointed to Rage, who narrowed his eyes at me. I wanted to snap at my mate, but my frustration wasn’t with him. Still, I wouldn’t mind a little help.
The Keeper grinned. “I have no use of a mortal favor. Now, if you have someone to take your place, I’d allow that and let you free.”
Rage’s face darkened.
“No. Way,” I growled as fury filled me. “You’re just like Surlama.”
He froze, spinning slowly, and pinned me with a narrow gaze. “How dare you compare me to that outer-ring cheat!”
Was he kidding? “How is what you just did any different than her? You tricked me by manipulating my words against me—and you know it.”
His eyes darkened until all I could see was black. “Fine. I’ll let you and your mate go if you’ll kill Surlama. I’d even be willing to owe you a favor.”
Wow! My hatred of the dark mage paled in comparison to the loathing emanating from the Keeper. I glanced at Rage, and he nodded, so I placed my fist over my left breast. “I will.”