I am one hell of a catch. A picture-perfect mate. Yeah, okay.
Eve’s head tilts to the side, and she makes a small sound that leaves me frozen.
She’s about to wake. I can sense it.
Even worse, I can also sense that the R’mannev symptoms haven’t even begun to abate.
With a harsh curse, I fling myself away from the bed. Landing on my knees on the floor, I brace myself and close my eyes.
Focus, you selfish asshole. Focus.
I can’t let her wake up. Not after what I just did. Her symptoms will eat her alive if she comes to with my cum all over her and the mating still attacking her. Even knowing this, I can’t bring myself to truly regret that I marked her. Fuck no, I’ll never regret that.
My body’s all out of whack, my focus totally wrecked. And, yet, I have no trouble bringing myself to trance this time.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Evesse needs the serenity I can give her. Apparently, it’s that simple. When she needs something, I give it to her. She’s my body’s master in that sense, and apparently that also includes my powers.
Once I’m sure she’ll stay under, I open my eyes and stand. My fists clench in anger.
A kiss did this to her. Not that I haven’t witnessed what an R’mannev is capable of before.
I have no clue how Nylicia’s stayed alive for sixteen-millennia. Only Destiny can be responsible for that, and she’s the poor pawn left to rot in her hell because of it.
She isn’t the only one, either.
The fire I willed on earlier bathes the room in an orange glow, illuminating the sticky evidence I left on Evesse’s thigh. I try hard not to be pleased by the sight.
I fail.
The thought of cleaning it off crosses my mind, but I’m not going to. Every part of me loves seeing it there. I want her covered in me, even if it means that—despite my own exhaustion—I have to stay awake and make sure she stays in her trance.
So be it. Fuck sleep. What matters most is watching over her.
Morning came and went and I still haven’t been able to attempt rising Evesse out of her slumber. I sense that she still isn’t ready, and at some point during the night, she began having nightmares. The soft pleading sounds that left her cut into me.
Especially because I know what she was seeing in those dreams.
I stand in front of the window, my cell phone to my ear, and stare out at the woods.
“And you’ve managed to keep her under this long?” Vedlyl asks.
“When I can manage to keep myself away from her, yes. If I touch her for too long, she starts coming out of it and then I have to focus on putting her back into trance.”
“Is it difficult for you right now?”
“It was at first. Getting easier now, though.”
I can hear Vedlyl moving around on the other line. “So Mavrak isn’t bothering you anymore?”
I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of that question. That floodgate has opened and I’ve already admitted to myself that there’ll be no closing it. Not again.
“If that were the case, you’d be here helping her. You can do more for her than I can. Damn, I’m not even male enough to leave her side so you can come.”
“Don’t take it like that. The longer you’re mated, the stronger the instincts become. You know how it works. They get more out of control with every week that passes, and you’re going on over a month. Don’t beat yourself up over this. Dyletri almost ripped my arm off when I went to check on Ismini the other day. And at least you’re not a God that just happens to also be part-wolf. I’m not looking forward to dealing with Cy once his mating and bonding symptoms kick in.”
I still can’t believe that Cyake forced himself on Spari like that.
He’s the reason she was cursed and subsequently punished in each of her incarnations.
Not only did Cyake set in motion his mating to her, but the day he finds out who she really is—what she really is—it’s going to destroy him.
So much for Mavrak getting to him. The Fates deemed him worthy of a punishment much worse.
Vedlyl recounts Ianthen’s version of what happened last night. Spari’s reaction when Cy went God of Fate on her is more than understandable. Considering what she’s been through because of him, she probably under reacted.
Now, it’s only a matter of time before they both fall victim to what Cy prophesied. Whenever he allows himself to channel the power of Fate, whatever he says always comes to pass.
Always.
I’m a walking testament to that.
There’s never been an exception. When prophecy is delivered via the usual riddle-lingo, it usually takes centuries or more before it happens.
When Cy says something is going to happen in a straightforward manner without the riddles, as he did last night, it’s a matter of weeks. Months at the most. Cyake’s exact words the night before were “you shall be mine.” No riddle there. No room for misinterpretation. Just a whole lot of blatant claiming.
Fate tied himself to Karma, and he doesn’t even know it.
Illion help them both.
“There’s something else,” Vedlyl says.
Ah, shit. His tone doesn’t bode well. “What?”
“You have a great-grandniece. And by great . . . well, considering each Erencei generation is about fifty-years, I mean over two-hundred-and-eighty generations ‘great’. Congrats.”
My heart seems to stop for a second, then takes off at full gallop. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I ran a scan into Soleria’s ancestry. Had to go back nearly fourteen-thousand years, but turns out she’s related to you on your father’s side. Makes sense when you look at her, too. No human has hair that color.”
Thoughts racing, I take a step back away from the window. “What are you saying? You said she’s my great-grandniece.”
“Apparently, your father had another son. Whoever he is, or was, he had a daughter with a Vy’shi. Through that female’s bloodline, which eventually merged with another human’s, Soleria’s genetic code was passed down. So, as I said, congrats. You’re an uncle. Sort of.”
“But . . .” I shake my head, the ramifications of Ved’s announcement pin-balling off the sides of my skull. “But . . .”
“It’s a never before-heard-of combination. I know.”
Never-before-heard-of because it doesn’t happen. Genetically, the war Erencei and the Vy’shi are programmed to repel each other. It would be like throwing a cat and a dog into a cage and expecting them to mate instead of one killing the other.
Yet, it apparently happened, which means that Eve’s best friend is related to me, even if our relation is separated by thousands of generations.
Something that doesn’t matter to a being as old as me. She carries my blood, and it obviously isn’t completely diluted. If Ved found it, then chances are good that she has a strong dose of both species in her.
It also means that I might still have a brother out there somewhere.
Did you know? I ask Mavrak.
He grunts back and the pain in that sound makes me feel bad for him. No. Never. I never knew.
No one told me. In either of my incarnations. Was my brother also the son of Persicutis? Or was he fathered with another female?
Fuck.
I look over my shoulder at Evesse, wondering how I’m going to spring this one on her. She’s witnessed, experienced, and learned enough in the last few weeks to test any ex-mortal’s mind. “Does Ianthen know this?”
“He’s the first one that realized she’s a Vy’shi,” Ved answers. “He was with her when she cast a purification spell. He saw the power in her aura when it flared during the spell and recognized it. Then, we started looking, and I found the connection to you. Oh, and her DNA is growing unstable.”
Of course it is. “Meaning?”
“Her human DNA is under attack. The war demon and witch in her seem to be trying to take over. It’s subtle, but the mutation has begun. No huma
n can handle that sort of rapid change and survive. They’re just not built to sustain fast evolution. A species change like what Nylicia did to Evesse and Ismini, yes. And even that has to be done carefully.”
“Tell Nylicia to do it to Soleria, then.”
“It can’t be done. Her body has already begun to change. We’re talking about DNA that shouldn’t be able to co-exist, let alone combine cohesively. We have no idea what’s really going on inside her, and she’s refusing to allow me to do any hard tests. I think she thinks I’m going to try to slow it down, and apparently, she really wants to stop being human. I’d be worried, but Nylicia said it’s going to work out one way or the other.”
Oh, I’m liking this less and less by the second. “One way or the other? And what exactly is this dependent upon?”
Vedlyl remains silent.
“It’s Ianthen, isn’t it? Somehow he’s tied into this.”
Vedlyl curses under his breath, confirming my suspicion.
“What does he have to do with it? Tell me, Vedlyl.”
“I can’t.”
It’s my turn to curse. “You know how he is with women. I know how he is. I’m the one with the sin-radar.” And centuries before, back in ancient Greece, when I saw Zexistr’s crime and almost lost myself to Mavrak, I stumbled upon Cyake and Ianthen.
They’ve caused millions of broken hearts during their lifetimes. Each. They’ve each run through women, using their wolf-instincts as an excuse, and leaving a trail of heartbreak in their paths.
It took everything in me not to rip out their hearts. And I couldn’t return to my friends, nor lay eyes on them for over one-thousand years.
I can’t lay eyes on them now considering my current state.
“This is bullshit. You know he’s going to mess this up.” Rubbing my forehead, I turn and stare worriedly down at Evesse.
“I’m sure you’re right. But it’s not like we can intervene. We’re just going to have to wait and see. It’ll work out, I’m sure.”
Looking at my R’ma, I can’t shake the feeling that Ved just might be wrong about that one.
CHAPTER 32
EVESSE
T he first thing I register as I wake is the misery racing through my system. A mix of I can’t do this, God this hurts like a bitch, and I need more sleep assaults me in the form of my mental voice as I come to. Groaning, I shift.
“Careful.”
His voice is split in two.
Realizing that my R’mann is in the room with me—and that he’s most likely in war demon form—I squint an eye open. Fuck, my head. No, my everything. Every inch of me aches. My incisors and lower abdomen hurt the most.
My chest expands with a breath. The smell of semen reaches me. I let out a soft moan, pinpointing where the scent is coming from.
A choked sound comes from Zen’s direction.
He came on me. All over my thigh. While I was out.
I wait for the throbbing arousal I feel to be overcome by indignity. Anger. Anything unpleasant.
Doesn’t happen. My instincts are slightly soothed, happy despite everything I witnessed. I can’t deny it: I’m pleased.
Fucking hell. R’mannevs just don’t make sense.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You were attacked by symptoms of a Fieren although you aren’t in one.”
“What?” My head shoots up, seeking him out with my eyes.
The moment I see him, the ache in my teeth and womb morph to earth-quake proportions. The pain is like a thousand hammers, making my vision spin.
Zen’s standing in front of the fireplace, fingers knuckle-deep in the cracked mantel. Wearing only leather pants and his boots, he’s too much for me to take-in.
And, despite how angry I still am, too much to resist.
His markings are on display, and those sexy black-and-red eyes are focused on me intensely.
“Mavrak?”
He shakes his head, the muscles from his wrists, up to his arms, and into his pecs flexing as he tightens his hold on the mantel. A loud crack echoes in the room. His legs shift restlessly.
He’s holding himself back.
I bite my lip, nervous, angsty and needy all at once. “Z-Zen?”
Zen nods, his jaw muscles convulsing frantically.
It’s barely him. I can tell he’s close to losing it to Mavrak.
“Please tell me you’re feeling better,” he says softly.
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I . . . I’m not sure?”
“I should have left you. Let Vedlyl come take care of you. Couldn’t. Had to stay. I can’t be away from you.”
My heart clenches tight. I’d love nothing more than to tell him everything is peachy keen, but it isn’t.
I can’t stop comparing myself to that female I saw. Zeniel’s fucking lover. Just thinking about it makes the memories knock at my brain, threatening to overcome me again if I so much as turn my full attention in that direction.
Tears sting my eyes and I reach up to wipe at them, annoyed when I hear myself sniffing. Even worse, I start speaking suddenly, voicing the pathetic insecurities inside me. “She’s beautiful.”
No explaining, he knows who.
“Not more than you. No one is.”
I scoff, running the back of my hand across my eyes. “Yeah, okay. You’re just saying that. And she’s probably worthier of being your mate than I am.”
A blast of wind hits me, and when I look up, Zeniel is in front of the bed, kneeling on the floor and fisting the covers.
“That’s not possible,” Zen snaps, making me jump. “I’m the one not worthy of you. Besides, no one could ever be better than you. Rhalira is a lying, manipulative female who had me fooled. And even if she hadn’t been, she would never equal you in my eyes.”
“I’m not that great either,” I argue in a small voice.
Zen stares at me, brow tense, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What in the Universe could make you say that?”
I shrug, looking away and feeling even more pathetic. There’s no way I’m telling him where those feelings of inadequacy originate from.
“Evesse, tell me.” His tone is hard, almost threatening.
Apparently, his commands are stronger than my own. “Even my own mother didn’t want me.” There, I said it.
That’s why I’ve never felt good enough. It wasn’t just the opinions of others that got to me. Before that, there was always a taunting whisper in the back of my head, born of rejection.
“Evesse, I—”
I shake my head, interrupting him. Now that I’ve started, I have to get this out. The words are suffocating me.
“She just . . . she stared at me. Right into my eyes. There was so much hate . . .” I pause. The wall over the fireplace becomes a projection, a replay of the look in my mother’s eyes. “She was my mom. Even after she sent Lex away, I still . . . I still . . .”
Damn it, Eve. Don’t you dare cry anymore. Don’t.
But then Zen places his hand on my knee, the touch full of so much comfort it breaks something in me. He’s kneeling there, trapped by his split from Mavrak, his eyes black-and-red, and still he’s listening. Still, he’s trying to offer me comfort.
The pressure of my pain becomes too much. The veins in my head throb until I have only one choice: give into the only thing that can alleviate the pressure.
And with the first tear, it all hurtles forth, leaving me here, shaking and trying my best to hold in the massive sobs that want to break free.
“He tried to fucking rape me and when I killed him, she hated me. Me. Clearly, there’s something wrong with me if my own mother hated me so much. The cops had to hold her back from attacking me. The things she said . . . it should’ve been me. Not him, oh no. Because I was lying, because—”
My voice breaks, my head on the verge of exploding. I need to crawl into a ball and hold on tight. No, what I need is to crawl into Zeniel’s lap and have him hold me.
As if he reads my mi
nd, he shifts, and next thing I know, I’m between his legs, pressed against his chest. He leans back against the headboard, hugging me. My tears stream onto his neck. I want to stop so badly. For my sake and his own. The last thing he needs is to hear this, not in the mentally fragile state he’s in.
“Evesse.” His accent makes my name sound so beautiful. “You are . . . I . . . I adore you.”
I gasp. Through his mental-split, through the hate and need for vengeance . . . it’s two voices that just spoke to me. Both halves of him. “I—I . . . what?”
Zen presses his face against mine, his body shaking. I try to pull back and look at him but he tightens his hold and doesn’t let me. He hates when I look at his face while he’s in that form, but I need it more than I need my next breath.
What he considers a monstrosity is gorgeous to me. Nothing is sexier than him, especially when his eyes are that color and his cheekbones are pronounced like they are now.
“Zen . . .”
“I love you.”
A tiny sob rattles out of me, his declaration lancing me with a sweet pain that overwhelms me. “Oh God . . . Zen . . . how can you? How? I’m tainted.”
“You are no such thing.” His voice is a growl in my ear.
“I killed a man—”
“You had every damn right to do so.” He lifts my hand up to his lips, kissing the scar where the shard once cut into it.
I’d wondered why the fuck that scar remained after I was brought back to life and given a new body.
“I’m not pure. How can you love me?” And I’m talking to Mavrak, something I know he understands.
“No. You’re not pure,” he agrees.
I tense.
“But you’re fucking perfect to me.”
More tears fall and I burrow deeper into his embrace. “I killed a man. Isn’t that wrong?” I whisper.
A voice whispers inside me, It doesn’t matter if it is or not.
You will do it again . . .
“No. It isn’t. It wasn’t born of selfishness. And even if it had been, he deserved it. I have no desire to punish you because of that. That’s the difference. A difference you are teaching me.”
“Zen . . . fuck . . . Zen . . .” I pull back and meet his eyes. “I love you more than I can handle. And it’s not just because you’re my R’mann, understand?”
Ryze Series: Books 1 & 2 Page 50