FATE’S FOOLS: Fate’s Fools Book One

by Ophelia Bell

  I mouthed a silent “oh” but didn’t comment, stepping into the closet and hanging the dress that obviously had been Sophia North’s back up and flipping through the scant options on the opposite side of the closet. Both women were smaller than me but if Ozzie was insistent I wear real clothes, I’d humor him.

  “This is better,” I said, snagging a dress made of a soft, drapey fabric that would at least feel nicer on my skin than the coarse gray of the one he’d handed me. It had a button closure over the bodice and a flared skirt with small blue flowers dotting the white fabric. It was also at least a size too small for me.

  I had Rohan’s shirt halfway over my head when I heard a harsh cough. Peeking through my arms, I raised an eyebrow.

  “If you just . . .” Ozzie made a gesture to the doorway I was blocking.

  “Sheesh, turn around if you’re embarrassed.” I smirked to myself as he reddened and turned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans again.

  Naked, I picked up the dress again and gave it a dubious look. It was a loose cut, but Ozzie’s female cousin was a small woman.

  “You should try channeling your other power to Rohan,” Ozzie said. “If you did that you and Keagan wouldn’t have to . . .”

  I paused with the skirt of the dress over my head and my arms halfway through the holes. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t have any other power to channel except what I get from sex.” I shimmied a little to work my arms up through the bodice of the dress but it tightened just shy of my shoulders.

  “You would if you focused. The wind magic can be redirected.”

  I snorted. “My turul magic is nonexistent, aside from whatever floats around in the air when I sing, but that’s just there. Anyone with a hint of magic and a decent singing voice can do the same thing. The other victims I met have turul blood and they were better off simply by singing to each other.” I let out a soft grunt, twisting to try to get the dress farther down, but it was stuck. “Can you help me with this?”

  I peeked through the opening of the dress I was trapped in, but Ozzie was still resolutely staring at the back wall of the closet, head tilted back slightly. “I could show you how it works. Come to practice with us. If music helps the victims, then the studio is the best place for Rohan anyway.”

  “Fine! I’ll do whatever you want, just help me get this damn thing on!”

  He darted a glance over his shoulder and I widened my eyes at him in impatience. The skirt of the dress covered the tops of my breasts, but the rest of me was completely bare. His gaze flitted down my body, a spark of heat visible for a split second before he closed his eyes and turned fully toward me, nostrils flaring. Gripping the hem of the dress, he gave it an impatient tug and the seams strained.

  “Don’t! You’ll rip it. I think it’ll fit but you have to be gentle. I don’t want to owe Evie a new dress.”

  “What was wrong with the other one?” he grumbled.

  “It was ugly. And I’m pretty sure your grandmother is even smaller anyway, though she makes up for it somehow.”

  Ozzie examined my predicament in a slightly more reasonable manner, a smirk playing at his lips. He started at my elbows, gently working the fabric down my arms. It had a little give to it, stretching a tiny bit as he eased it over my shoulders. The seams protested again as the bodice of the dress moved into place.

  He was so close, my breath hitched at the summery scent of him. His skin seemed infused with the ocean and I realized how very perfect this new locale was for him. Not that I’d ever had the pleasure of visiting him in his old stomping grounds in New York, but he definitely seemed to belong here. His movements paused, his blond head lifting and his gaze resting on my face, brows creased as he seemed to study me intently.

  The high waistband of the dress shifted with another tug, snagging at my breasts once before slipping over them and finally allowing the sleeves to settle at my shoulders where they belonged. Yet Ozzie didn’t step away. He held onto the bunched fabric of the skirt, his fingertips grazing my hips as he tugged it down a little farther then stopped. The unfastened bodice splayed wide, my breasts barely covered by the edges. Ozzie’s gaze slipped down and he blinked slowly, his dark gold lashes just barely concealing the heat in his gaze. His constantly wind-swept look was more apparent up close, and a breeze seemed to come out of nowhere, rustling the waves of the longer hair on top of his head.

  My heart thudded in my chest as his thumbs grazed the peaks of my hip bones in what I realized was a deliberate caress. He seemed almost mesmerized by the view of my cleavage and I had the sense that I ought to have mercy and hide myself from him, but part of me craved that look of hunger. I’d dreamed of that look nearly every night for the past year, but not even my dreams could compete with the heat that flooded me now.

  A strange sensation tugged at the core of my being, and it was as though Ozzie responded, pulling me closer. His breathing had grown ragged, but mine was no better, and it left me entirely when he cupped one breast and thumbed aside the open dress to graze my nipple.

  “Boreas fucking save me, you should not feel so good to touch.”

  I had no breath to argue before his mouth was on mine, his lips capturing mine in an almost reverent tangle, his tongue barely hazarding a taste as he darted it along the seam of my lips. When I parted for him, a rough groan vibrated through his throat and he squeezed my breast and tightened his grip on my hip, pulling me tight against his hard arousal.

  I whimpered, elated by the unexpected attention—something I’d craved for more than a year. But just as quickly I was grieving its departure when he tore himself away with as much ferocity as he’d just claimed my mouth.

  His hand no longer holding it, the skirt of the dress fell around my thighs, covering me finally. He pushed past me without another word, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he fled through the bedroom.

  “Conjure some goddamn panties at least,” he shot back at me before charging through the door and slamming it behind him.

  The second the door closed it was as though a tether had snapped. I staggered against the doorway, my entire body overcome with a painful ache so strong a sob welled up in my chest. My fingers dug into the door frame behind me as I struggled to cling to reason and not give into this confusing surge of loss. I’d never had Ozzie, so why the hell should this hurt so much?

  I hadn’t reacted half as strongly the night before after Keagan’s similar hot and cold behavior.

  My sight blurred as I lifted my shaky hands and attempted to fasten up the buttons of the dress. I was still fumbling when a hazy figure appeared and big hands clamped over mine, steadying them. Rohan’s smoky tropical scent filled my senses and the hurt eased almost instantly.

  “I’ll set him on fire if you want me to,” he said, tugging my hands aside and carefully fastening the buttons of my dress.

  “No, I don’t want you to set anyone on fire. Just . . . keep doing what you’re doing.”

  “Dressing you?” he asked. “You do realize how out of character this is for me, right? I prefer doing the opposite.”

  He tugged harder at the sides of the dress, forcing a button into a hole only to have it pop apart from the weight of my breasts. Golden smoke enveloped me then, but it had a different texture than the stuff he’d infused my lungs with a moment ago. This time, the smoke seeped beneath my dress, sliding around my breasts in a warm caress before solidifying into lacy fabric that lifted my flesh until the button he fought with stayed fastened. The same smoke wrapped snugly around my hips, teasing only briefly between my thighs before growing still, leaving behind a lightly constricted sensation against my ass and over my pelvis.

  “Did you just conjure me lingerie?” I asked, peeking into my bodice at the shimmer of pale yellow lace.

  Rohan fastened one more stubborn button before giving up and gently cupping both my breasts in his big hands, smiling as he fondled me. “I’d offer my support in other ways but it’d be weird for me to walk around with
my hands on your tits all day.” He let his hands fall to my hips and pulled me into a tender embrace. “Besides, the Maestro seemed to have quite a vocal opinion about your lack of undergarments when he came back after your talk. I’d expect to have to worry about pissing off one of your fourteen dads, but him I wasn’t quite prepared for, and if there’s anyone I want to stay friends with, it’s Ozzie. Fate’s Fools is my life.”

  “Seven,” I said, leaning back. “I only have seven dads.”

  He grinned and lifted his brows. “Only seven, she says. You want to come out here and share that story with us? I’m sure Keagan’s dying to hear it.”

  I resisted his pull when he stepped away and tried to lead me out of the closet. “Keagan would probably love any excuse to like me less. I’m pretty sure Ozzie feels the same way.”

  “Well, I know for a fact, Llyr likes you.”

  I rolled my eyes and groaned. “Good for him because he’s the one I can’t stand.”

  He stood in the center of the room, shirtless and beautiful and giving me a very patient look. “So there’s no love lost between you and any of those bastards. That just means more for me, right? I’m down with that like you wouldn’t believe. But the fact remains that they’re all here to help but they can’t until you explain to us what needs to be done. So, are you going to let us help you figure this out?”

  My shoulders fell and I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that. Are you feeling all right? I can share more power.” I lifted my hand to his cheek and he gripped my wrist, pulling it down to rest over his midsection.

  “Just a little, and you can be damn sure I’m repaying you as soon as my soul is healed. I would give you the whole damn thing if I knew how.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me, but thank you,” I said, warming with gratitude that he’d given my lack of soul that much thought. I let a brief surge of power seep from my hand into him and his aura instantly brightened.

  With an expression of fierce emotion he pulled me into his arms and held me so tight I couldn’t breathe. “You deserve to have someone worry about you, Deva. It’s no wonder your family sent someone like Llyr to find you. Give yourself more credit, all right?”

  I stiffened and pushed away, irritated by his lack of understanding. But that wasn’t his fault. “I don’t feel unloved by my family. Just over protected to the point I wasn’t growing at home. I know little enough about who I am and I’m never going to discover what I can do without taking some risks.”

  As he regarded me with his golden gaze, another certainty sank in. I wanted to take a few risks for love as well, but not the impulsive, crush-inspired risks I’d taken before that compelled me to sing pointless songs to Ozzie and Llyr. This dragon who stood before me with his kind-hearted need to infuse the world with joy was a risk I was determined to take, and not just because I felt responsible for the damage he’d endured.

  He truly made me feel treasured, in a way my family never had, and I’d be damned if I let that slip through my fingers.

  18

  Deva

  The three men waited in the living room, Ozzie and Llyr seated on the armchair and chaise that Keagan had repaired the night before. The sofa was in a crumpled heap out on the patio, leaving no other seating. Keagan remained standing, leaning his broad-shouldered frame against the fireplace. Despite his surly look, I caught a flash of barely contained panic in his eyes when Rohan and I entered, and the raw vulnerability made me want to reassure him that I didn’t intend to steal his lover. Rohan had as much as said he expected to share me, but I hadn’t wanted to correct him. It’d be Rohan who Keagan and I had to share if there was any compromise to be made between the three of us, and it would only be a temporary arrangement anyway.

  Rohan rested a hand at my hip, his touch reassuring. When we stepped down into the living room, he seemed to tug me tighter, the gesture of possession sending a brief thrill through my body. All three of the other men’s auras instantly flared with identical hues of angry, territorial orange. Keagan’s I understood—it was likely directed at Rohan anyway—but the other two had no right to feel possessive of me.

  Rohan paused and dipped his head to my ear. “You sure you don’t want us all, Deva? I’m sure you can see as well as I can what you do to them, just being in the room together lights up all their auras.”

  “This isn’t about that,” I said, extracting myself from the comfort of his hold. I needed to stand on my own for this conversation. Each of the men here only knew part of my story, and different parts at that. If I was going to get them all up to speed, I needed to tell the whole damn thing and I only wanted to have to do that once.

  I paced toward the broken window, cautious at first. When I saw no remaining shards of glass, I straightened my posture and strode to the opening, letting the warm ocean breeze catch my hair and whip around my head. I closed my eyes, willing away the fatigue caused by the depletion of my power, and found the resolve I needed with every light caress of that wind. It helped a little to pretend it was Ozzie’s magic urging me on—the wind certainly seemed to tingle as though infused with the West Wind’s power. When I turned and opened my eyes to his closed-off expression, I knew it was all my imagination.

  The wind blew in behind me, fluttering against my skirt and toying with each man’s hair as I began to speak. By all the gods and demigods, let them understand.

  “I’m not sure where to begin,” I said, heart pounding as I took in each face. They were all expectant, though Ozzie and Llyr were more wary, and Keagan feigned boredom with a glance at his fingernails, though his aura quivered with curiosity.

  “What’s the problem?” Rohan asked. “Can I help?”

  “It’s you,” I said. He gave me a confused look. “No, I mean, you . . . and Keagan, too . . . I only just met you, so I feel like I need to start at the beginning but that’s a complicated story.”

  “We aren’t infants,” Keagan snapped. “Just say what needs to be said.”

  I pressed my lips tight and glanced at Llyr, his olive skin, sculpted lips, and shining black hair already etched into my memory, though we’d only really known each other for one brief, amazing day. The story began with him in many ways, yet the angry knot in my gut made it difficult to dredge up those memories without recalling how he’d hurt me the day I’d left home.

  “Deva—” Llyr began, starting to rise with a concerned expression.

  “No.” I held up my hand, palm out. “Stay where you are. This is hard enough as it is.” I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath. “Llyr was with me almost from the beginning. I don’t think Ozzie even knows that about my history, though he knows most of my life story. You all know that I’m a hybrid, though. Bred from all five higher races. Well, four, plus humans, who have their own innate power, even if it isn’t something they can control.”

  I opened my eyes to make sure they were listening. Rohan took a few steps into the living room then moved to sit on the floor against Llyr’s chaise and returned a rapt look to me. “We thought you looked human when you walked into the store,” he said. “Your aura’s too unreadable though.”

  “You said she was too beautiful to be human,” Keagan shot.

  Rohan gave me a sheepish smile and shrugged. “It’s true.”

  “I could have been human, at one time. Or maybe not. There’s no way to know that for sure. What I do know is that my biological parents were human once. My biological parents were two of the oldest Elites who were corrupted by our enemy and compelled to serve the Ultiori around three thousand years ago. Hell, they were the Ultiori at the beginning. Llyr already mentioned my father, who you all clearly know at least by reputation. Two of you know him personally.”

  I met Llyr’s gaze and was surprised by his look of abject regret. But if he was truly sorry for what he’d said about me, why did he keep insisting on the lie?

  I tore my gaze away and glanced between Rohan and Keagan. Rohan frowned and Keagan’s eyes narrowed as he shifted uncomfortably and cross
ed his arms.

  “The stories are all true, so I’m sure if I said you don’t know Nikhil like I do, that wouldn’t change your opinions. If you want to run, be my guest.”

  Keagan turned his gaze to Rohan, whose mouth was set in a firm line. Rohan shook his head and lightly pounded the side of his fist on his knee. “I’m not going anywhere. It isn’t like Nikhil’s still hunting us anyway. He switched sides before the war started. Everyone knows he’s bound to a member of the Dragon Council now, and if Iszak and Lukas don’t see him as a threat, we shouldn’t either.”

  It was odd to hear him refer to my stepmother in such generic terms. To me she was the caring, patient woman who was the perfect balance to my father’s severe, demanding presence. She could also destroy this entire room with a breath of her fire, but that was beside the point. His familiarity with my two turul stepfathers should have been less of a surprise, since they were the original members of Fate’s Fools, but had retired last year to raise a family with my dad and Belah.

  Keagan’s gaze turned back to me, and though he looked troubled, he shook his head. “I’m waiting to hear the rest.”

  “Right, okay.” I took a deep breath and dove back in.

  “My mother was the first female Elite, who was retired early on. That is to say, she was locked up and experimented on. If you ever heard the legends of the Twin Elites, she was the female twin, Naaz’s sister, Neela. While she was in captivity, the enemy forced her and Nikhil to . . . breed.”

  I hated this part of the story because despite knowing that my parents indeed had true affection for each other, they were not each other’s soul mates. But I know if they hadn’t had some love for one another at the time, I wouldn’t exist. Humans didn’t require a bond with a soul mate to conceive a child together, but the hybrid mix of blood Nikhil and Neela carried still needed a deeper bond than a forced mating would normally provide. That was ultimately the secret ingredient the Ultiori’s leader found with the two of them. None of the products of the rapes the Ultiori forced their captives to carry out produced offspring that lasted to term. But add a little love to the mix and Meri had a viable specimen to continue her experiments on. Me.