by Wood, Vivian
He stalked through the dark New Orleans night, heaving a sigh of relief when he finally walked under the highway overpass. Above him, cars whirred and zoomed along I-10, but he paid no attention.
Looking around, he made sure the area was clear of pedestrians. No need for anyone to see the inner workings of his magic, just as a precaution. He found just the spot he needed, the place where all the Gates of Guinee aligned just so.
Not a particularly auspicious spot for the magic he was about to work, but again it did not matter. All that mattered was his task, which would stop the decomposition of his current Vessel and bring him into the final stage of his great plan.
Papa Aguiel gave himself a little shake, trying to rouse the energy level in his failing body. He took out the jar of essence, glancing at it one final time. Then he shrugged and unceremoniously smashed it on the ground before him, laying a snare for friendly and familial spirits that would power him through the last stage of his journey.
Next he dumped out the vial of dragon’s blood, which smoked fiercely when it touched the essence. The ground rippled and heaved, looking for all the world like a living thing, and the Veil between the worlds shimmered faintly.
Papa Aguiel grinned as he half-lunged, half-fell forward, sinking the dagger deep into the Veil and swinging it upward. The Veil parted as easily as flesh beneath a scalpel, drawing back to reveal a darkly glowing portal.
Success.
Holding his hands up and letting his oh-so-heavy head roll forward on his weak neck, he began his real work. Summoning the spirits who would strengthen and sustain him, that would give him utter dominion over the human realm.
Even the Guardians couldn’t stop him now.
After a few moments, the first tentative tendril of spirit slid from the gash in the Veil, slipping into the world to swirl around Papa Aguiel’s dying body.
He sucked in a deep breath, inhaling the spirit whole into his lungs. It fortified him, the first of many that would do so.
He grinned again, feeling his crumbling lips reforming on his face.
“It begins.”
Chapter Four
I thought we were mates.
Sophie stayed in the back yard after Ephraim stormed off, the truth of his words ringing through her, bone-deep.
“Fuck!” she said, pressing her knuckles against her teeth.
This could not be happening. She couldn’t have a mate, not right now… not him. Six months ago, she’d been actively searching for her life partner, daydreaming about mated life and wedding bells. She wanted a huge human-style wedding, in addition to a Wiccan ceremony and whatever her mate’s traditions might be.
And Ephraim couldn’t be more her type, his big finely-honed frame, straight dark hair, and bright yellow-green eyes lighting up every nerve ending in her entire body. Hell, six months ago Sophie would have walked right up to him and asked him to take her straight to bed.
But the Sophie of six months ago hadn’t suffered the losses present-Sophie had. And no amount of cheer could overcome the issues inherent in her present situation.
Such as: what happens when your mate is also your slave?
Sophie thought she might actually faint. She walked over to the high wood fence surrounding the Manor’s back yard and sat down, leaning against it as she buried her face in her arms.
For the first time since she’d learned Papa Aguiel’s name, the enormity of her task overwhelmed her, a sob breaking free from her throat.
What the hell had she ever done to deserve this? First Lily was ripped from her life, now she was given a mate she could never have? For once Sophie took what she wanted from him, she would be dead, or at least so corrupted by dark magic that she couldn’t return to this realm and live in the light again.
She gulped in big gasps of air, trying to think rationally.
There was more than one kind of fate, wasn’t there? Maybe he was fated to her in order to help her eliminate Papa Aguiel. Maybe Sophie wasn’t meant to have a romantic mate. Instead, destiny had given her the man she needed most, bound him to her to make her mission easier.
After all, if Ephraim fell in love with her hard and fast the way the stories of fated mates said he should, he would do as she asked… no matter what she asked. Maybe he wouldn’t even question her and would simply clear the way for her to achieve her goal.
Avenge her sister, save the world.
A cold laugh bubbled from her lips.
Is that all? She asked herself. Just saving mankind, no big deal.
Thrusting her hand into her pocket, she drew out the keys that ruled Ephraim’s entire life. They warmed to her touch again, sending a chill down her spine.
What are you becoming? A little voice asked, but Sophie couldn’t listen, wouldn’t. She crammed them back in the pocket of her leather jacket, then got to her feet. All the while, ignoring that persistent whisper.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
She shoved back her left sleeve and looked at her tattoo again, the lines so light they were nearly silver in the moonlight. She drew in a deep breath, centering herself.
A mate could wait, but Lily’s very soul was in limbo. Not to mention that from all accounts Papa Aguiel was going to make the skies rain blood… and that was just for starters.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she whispered to herself, ignoring the stinging numbness in her lips. “You’re doing the only thing you can.”
With that, she wiped at her damp cheeks and straightened her hair, blowing out a breath when she realized she was primping. For him.
The one she’d just determined wasn’t meant to be a romantic mate.
Damn, girl. Get your head on straight.
She steeled herself and headed back inside, finding that Ephraim hadn’t gone far. He was standing in the kitchen, his expression dark and closed off, contemplating a mug of coffee.
“I need you to understand something,” she said, skipping the niceties.
Ephraim favored her with a curious glance, but didn’t speak. Emotions ran riot over his face, but without knowing him better Sophie couldn’t begin to guess at some of them.
“I am going to take down Papa Aguiel. I don’t care about anything else, and I won’t stop until he’s dead… or I am.” She tossed the words down like a gauntlet, challenging Ephraim to say a word against her convictions.
He watched her for a moment, seeming to consider her words fully. Then, “Involving yourself with the Guardians, not to mention trying to take on a Loa of Papa Aguiel’s power… It’s more than a risk. It’s a death wish.”
An ugly smile lit Sophie’s lips.
“I’ve heard that before,” she said.
Another long pause from Ephraim.
“You know what I am, obviously,” he said, cocking his head. “You could ask for anything. I would take you anywhere. If we are fated mates, as I think we both suspect… Are you not tempted to ask me to simply take you away from it all? It would be well within my power.”
For the barest moment, Sophie’s heart squeezed so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. Tempted didn’t begin to describe it.
“I can’t,” she uttered. “There’s only one thing I’m fated for, and it’s taking out Papa Aguiel. I don’t have time or room for anything else in my life.”
“Why you?” He asked, those gorgeous eyes scanning her face, seeking. “Something personal, I should think?”
Before she could answer, Rhys pounded into the room.
“The Veil has been breached,” the Scot huffed, out of breath. “We are going to see the site. Ephraim, we’d like you to come. Just you, for now.”
Rhys gave Sophie an apologetic shrug, then left.
“Wait—” Sophie tried to follow the Guardian as he vanished toward the back yard, but just ended up stumbling over her own feet. Exhaustion won out over coordination, and she nearly fell flat on her face.
Except that didn’t happen. Instead, her descent was abruptly stopped by Ephraim’s strong hands on her waist,
pulling her close to his body as he supported her.
“I got you,” he said, giving her ribs a gentle squeeze as she gripped his arms to regain her balance.
Suddenly Sophie was pressed up against him, staring right into those lovely eyes. Something dark and deadly lurked below the surface there, barely hidden. Something else too, though. Something…
Sophie licked her lips as her eyes dropped to his mouth, and it was everything she could do not to move closer and take in a lungful of his masculine scent.
“Why us?” She wondered aloud, meeting his gaze again.
Ephraim flinched, every inch of his formidable body going rigid, and released her like she was a burning coal in his bare hands. The distrust plain all over his face was no surprise, but it stung more than Sophie knew it ought to.
What did you expect? She chided herself as she watched Ephraim turn and follow Rhys’s path out of the room.
She’d committed to a dark path. Now she was living that truth, and there was nothing for it but to keep moving.
Chapter Five
“Two days you’ve been gone!”
Ephraim sighed at the anger in Sophie’s voice. The second he walked back into the Manor, still dripping with Vampyre blood from a particularly nasty fight in the Central Business District, Sophie stuck to him like glue.
“I know,” Ephraim said, bowing his head. He shouldn’t feel sorry, not at all. He was merely doing what he ought, working with the Guardians to protect people like Sophie against the quickly-growing chaos in the city. Still, she was his master. And in theory, his mate. It was hard to resist the urge to go to her, touch her, make sure she was okay.
She followed him up the stairs to the suite of rooms he’d been assigned, her cheeks flushed with anger.
“What could you possibly have been doing for two days straight?” She demanded to know. “I thought you were dead!”
Ephraim glanced at her as he toed off his heavy black combat boots.
“And? Why should you care?” He asked.
Sophie’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s unfair,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
“I don’t think it is. You came into possession of some keys. That gives you a lot of sway over me, which I cannot control. Otherwise, you don’t know me. We’re strangers.”
It felt like a lie coming out of his mouth, but it was the plain truth. Sophie was a beautiful stranger, no matter how connected he might feel to her. They’d barely even spoken, much less discovered anything deeper.
No, she was concerned about him as an investment in… whatever nefarious plans she’d laid. At the moment, Ephraim was simply too weary to care.
“I care whether you live or die,” she said, looking annoyed. “And you can’t just vanish for two days without a word!”
Ephraim stripped off his shirt, enjoying the way her eyes went wide as she checked out his body. The resulting flush of her cheeks was the most pleasurable thing Ephraim had experienced in a long, long time. She flipped back her long mane of blonde hair, which he noticed she’d left down, loose, curly, and tempting.
“You could have ordered me to come back,” he told her, ripping his gaze away from where it had wandered, to her amazing tits and perfectly curved hips.
“I wouldn’t have done that,” she said, turning her face away.
“No?” He asked. “I don’t see why not.”
She bit her lip, letting his question hang in the air.
“I’m about to get naked,” Ephraim told her frankly. “So unless you’re going to join me in the shower, I suggest you wait in the library.”
He pointed toward the door, and was rewarded with Sophie’s blazing cheeks as she stormed from the room with a huff. Ephraim groaned at himself as he stripped down, at the fact that he’d run himself ragged the last few days and he was still already hard as a rock after talking to her for two seconds.
“Pathetic,” he told himself as he walked into the bathroom.
As much as he wanted to stand under the shower’s hot water forever, possibly even take his cock in his fist and release some seriously pent up lust, he kept it brief. In and out in a matter of minutes, because the truth was, he did feel a little guilty for disappearing for two days.
How fucked up was that? Two days, a passing attempt at a single conversation, and Sophie already had him wrapped around her little finger.
Damn, he really was screwed. And not in the good way.
After pulling on fresh clothes, he walked into the library to find it empty. Scowling, he headed downstairs and found Sophie in the middle of a mad rush, all the Guardian mates running amok doing small things. Packing, looking for important items, taking books from the downstairs library.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“You need to crash out for a few hours,” Kieran said, looking him up and down critically. “You look like you’re dead on your feet.”
“I’ve had much worse,” Ephraim said with a shrug. “Why is everyone packing?”
“Sending the mates to a bolt-hole in the Gray Market. The Manor won’t be secure enough, the wards have been defeated before,” Aeric said. “Alice is in a panic, wanting to take every single dress she owns. I’m just standing back and letting the whirlwind happen.”
After talking to Rhys and Aeric about patrol shifts for the next few days, Ephraim went to find Sophie where she was stuffing a pile of clothes in a suitcase, struggling to zip it.
“Here,” he said, reaching out and holding down the top for her.
“Thanks,” she said, flashing him a lopsided, grateful smile.
“How do you have this much stuff here already?” He asked, confused. “You just got here.”
She chuckled.
“This isn’t mine, it’s…” she looked around. “Is it Echo? Yeah, it’s hers. I do have a mysterious closetful of clothes and shoes that fit me perfectly in the bedroom next to yours, but I’m not going to the Gray Market.”
“No?” Ephraim asked, mildly amused by the bossy tone in her voice. For such a little thing, she believed quite wholeheartedly in the power of her authority.
Then he thought about her holding up the keys that first night, and the smile slipped away.
She gave him an odd look, as if trying to guess his thoughts. Good luck with that one, was his first. I barely know my own thoughts these days.
“I’m here to take down Papa Aguiel, not to hide out like Jesse James,” she said. “I’m sticking with you.”
“I’ve been wading through waves of zombies, possessed humans, and aggressive Vampyres taking advantage of the melee. No offense, but you’re not going to be a lot of help unless you have some secret battle training I don’t know about.”
Her eyes sparked for a moment, but she didn’t argue that point.
“We can hide out on our own then,” she said, her eyes dropping to her feet. She was blushing again, but it didn’t seem lust-induced this time.
It seemed more like she was hiding something, and doing a shit job at it.
“Is that right? Where will we go, Sophie?”
“I’m not sure…”
She glanced up at him, their gazes catching, electricity arcing between them. He realized it was the first time he’d called her by her name. It felt nice on his lips, made him wish he was saying it about an octave lower, while he held her down and fed her his…
Whoa, down boy.
Now Sophie was blushing in a physical way, and damn if Ephraim didn’t want more.
“My maladh,” he blurted, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
“I’m sorry?” She asked, her brows rising.
“It means haven, safe place. My haven, my…” he trailed off. “People think of it as a lamp, you know? Where I go when I am not being summoned.”
Sophie gave him a soft smile.
“You’d take me there?” She asked, as if he’d just paid her the biggest compliment in the world.
And in a way, he had. He�
�d never taken anyone there, even in the direst of circumstances. It truly was his sanctum, a place where he could while away the endless hours of his life and forget the things he did for his masters in the outside world.
“I’d like that,” she said. There was something in her eyes, something that made Ephraim feel a twinge of worry… but it was gone just like that, probably nothing more than his imagination.
Her lips curved up once more, and she reached out to brush a lock of hair back from Ephraim’s face, the gesture making his heart pound.
“You look so tired,” she said. “You need to rest.”
Ephraim looked around at the Guardians, all in the midst of their preparations.
“I doubt we would be missed if we went to my maladh now,” he said with a shrug. “I have the next full day off patrol.”
Unable to help himself, he held out a hand to her.
“Just like that?” She asked.
“What more need there be?” Ephraim asked.
She gave him a heart-melting grin, her eyes shining for a moment, then slipped her small hand into his. Just that quick, Ephraim shifted them from the human plane to his maladh, a sort of bolt-hole between worlds. Accessible only to Ephraim, it was home, his castle, his oasis.
“Holy crap,” Sophie breathed, staring up into the cavernous main room of his home.
The whole place was done up like a desert palace, soft beige inside and out. The maladh had many rooms, but this main living and sleeping area and the oversized spa bathroom were Ephraim’s favorite.
Already Sophie was moving to the broad openings cut in the sides of the room. Because this was his private world, he made the rules, and here he could have massive open windows without worrying about the room growing hot or sandy.
Outside, the sun beat down on endless sand dunes, a vast stretch of nothingness beyond the huge swimming pool and grove of trees next to the house. There was nothing else in the world here, because he needed nothing else. The maladh fed him, clothed him, took care of all his basic needs.
In some ways, it was Ephraim’s only friend, the only thing in his life that didn’t demand anything from him in return. After all, the maladh did not keep him in servitude.