Fruck, as Sol would say.
The R’mannev can be a whining, inconsolable little bitch when it wants to. This is worse than simple jealousy. Not that jealousy is a simple thing, but I suspect that it’s going to take decades of Zeniel fucking me, and only me, before the images of him and Rhalira go away. Perhaps even longer.
I refuse to entertain the idea that they might never go away. I’ve lived my life on the edge of insanity sometimes. I don’t need to tempt Fate on that.
“HELP ME SOMEONE, PLEASE!”
I twitch so violently that my elbow almost slams into Zen’s face. He doesn’t wake, but his eyes move behind his eyelids. My heart stutters, stealing my ability to breathe for a moment. Lips parted, I struggle to take in air and sit up.
It’s nothing. I’m probably just imagining things.
“Help . . . me . . .”
A screech goes off in my head, the sound reminding me of a speaker picking up interference. On its heels is the voice of Justice—angry, demonic, and mutated as it whispers inside me.
Find him. Punish him!
Him? Him who?
But I already know. The plaintive plea for help I heard sounds out again, and I recognize the tenor of that voice with every fiber of my being.
Not caring if I wake Zen, I jump out of bed and dematerialize like a shot downstairs. I move so fast that the air continues to whip around me long after I’ve come to a stop in the basement, in front of that fucking Gnetica.
“Please help!”
I clutch my head, groaning when the screech in my mind goes off. I must get in there. As much as I dread the thought of what’s on the other side of the energy shield, the urge burning the top of my spinal column isn’t going to go away on its own.
I don’t even care that I’m still naked.
Suffer. He must suffer. More.
“Damn it!” I bare my teeth at the shield, my fingers pressing into my head as I fight the pain. “Damn you, go down!” I don’t actually expect the command to work.
Eyes wide, I watch the Gnetica disappear, the energy it’s made of rippling as it separates.
I don’t even have time to be shocked. The voice I’ve been hearing in my head immediately calls out to me from within the basement.
I rush inside.
No matter how much I suspected it, the sight that meets me is almost enough to knock me off my feet.
A swirling vortex of what looks like black and red smoke reaches from the floor to the ceiling. Through the gaps in the dual-toned mist, a face I never thought to see again stares back at me.
“I killed you,” I say. Two tones—one shocked, one gloating—echo behind the words.
He resembles Nylicia, a see-through projection, but he isn’t. He can’t be. Translucent blood, muscles, tendons, and organs are spilled all over the floor.
His legs are missing. His hands are gone, too. His ribcage is cracked wide open. I note his heart beating weakly inside it.
The only thing that’s left untouched is his face.
Make him suffer. He deserves more.
“E-Eve . . .”
“Do not speak my fucking name!” I shout, feeling like the powers of Justice have become an entirely separate entity within me. An entity that’s taking control.
I want to look away from the sight of his intestines spilling out of him. Want to run and get far, far away from him.
My body isn’t going anywhere though. The other half of me is gluttonous for this sight. Hungry to inflict more damage. And damned proud of my mate and what he’s obviously done.
Shit. Is this how Zen feels when battling Mavrak?
“Please . . . please . . .”
“What do you want from me?” My voice remains split into two.
“Save me . . . get me out of here.”
“Never. You hear me? I will never save you.”
Staring at my dead stepfather’s dull brown eyes, I can see and hear all the other girls he hurt before me. Before meeting my mother, he abused two other teenage girls, both daughters of his ex-girlfriends.
I can also hear the pleas of at least eight more, begging him to stop. Just as I once did. “You fucking pedophile. I should reap worse upon you.”
“Send me . . . send me back to Hell. Send me there. I’d rather face that, than face him again,” my stepfather pleads, his face contorting with sobs.
I open my mouth to curse him to an even worse fate.
Zen materializes into the basement. He’s just as naked as I am and looks positively wild.
“Do not lay your filthy eyes on my R’ma!”
No, that isn’t Zen.
It’s Mavrak.
I watch, frozen, as more of the mist that’s keeping my stepfather’s soul imprisoned begins leaking from Mavrak’s red-and-black eyes. His face is monstrous in its fury, but it’s the mist that holds me captivate.
It expands as it gets closer to the soul. Then, shadows resembling skeletons begin to take form, their haunting cackles filling the basement.
My stepfather’s sobs grow louder.
He clearly knows what comes next.
The bones on the skeletons pop into place as they approach their target. They don’t stop. Neither does the mist. Both creep nearer until the wraiths fall upon my stepfather with obvious glee.
It doesn’t end there. Even as they begin to tear into him, ripping any piece of him that’s still intact, images come to life in a whirl around him.
His victims. The same things I was seeing within my mind’s eye are on replay in front of him now. He’s seeing and hearing the crimes for which he’s being punished.
I slap a hand over my mouth and step back. I knew Mavrak’s powers had to be immense. But I had no idea that it’s like this.
This is everything he fears.
This is what he can—and will—do to our friends if he were to face them in this form.
I turn away from the raw truth in front of me, and come face to face with my R’mann. He looks away from my stepfather as well and stares at me worriedly. Still, the mist continues to pour from his monstrous eyes, the wraiths keep laughing, and the screams of the girls echo above it all.
My stepfather is barely able to whimper, sounding like he’s choking on his own blood.
Behind the malice in Zen’s eyes, I can see both his agony and great satisfaction. He enjoys the damage he’s inflicting, even though he’s horrified I’m here to see it.
“I can’t stop it,” he shouts above the screams and the laughter. His gaze is pleading.
I drop my hand from my mouth, swallowing past the rock in my throat. “It’s okay, baby. Just come here, Mavrak.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. Somehow, the mist continues to leak out. “Don’t call me that. I don’t want you to hate me. I told you. Everyone that knows Mavrak and what I can do hates me in this form.”
I shake my head. His friends know what he’s capable of. They still love him. And I have never loved him more than I do now, as he stands there bathed in self-loathing over something he can’t control.
Something I appreciate, no matter how dangerous it is.
“That’s not true . . . Zeniel, come here.”
He opens his eyes, looking wrecked. “He deserves it for what he’s done to you.”
I nod. “You’re right. You are so right. And I’m grateful. But that’s enough, okay? Please come to me. I need you to hug me.”
That does it. Zen materializes in front of me. He places his large palms flat on my back and draws me in, pressing my naked chest to his. He shudders against me, holding me gingerly. Then, he seems to deflate, curling around me.
I tighten my hold on him, realizing that the mist has stopped. The cackling as well. I don’t want to look and see what’s left of my stepfather’s soul. Don’t even care. Zen lays his head on my shoulder, trembling, and all that matters is him.
His agony, his pain, and his indecision.
He can’t exist like this anymore. I understand the consequences now more tha
n ever. Through our connection, I’m bombarded by a myriad of emotions; his love for me, the gratitude he feels that I’m not turning away from him, his residual anger at my stepfather, and the pain that results from exposure to sins from all over the planet.
His agony is made worse by the struggle between his personalities. He may not be aware of it, but I can feel it.
No individual being is meant to exist and be split in two. It isn’t right.
Merge him.
Even before the voice of Justice speaks, I had already realized that that’s what I must do.
We can control him. He is ours. Merge him.
A small sob leaves me as I contemplate what I’m about to do.
Zen hugs me tighter, cupping the back of my head and pressing his lips to my jaw.
He apologizes in that double voice, sounding on the verge of tears himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see.”
I’m the one who is sorry. Please don’t hate me. I have to. My heart breaks. “I don’t care about that . . . I . . . I love you. You know that right?”
The groan he gives is pure torture, a reflection of what’s doing within him. His arms squeeze, plastering me to his form.
“I love you, too.”
“You can’t be like this any longer, you know that as well, right?”
His muscles go rigid beneath my fingers, turning into the kind of stone that worries me. “You are . . . right. That is why I have been trying so hard to get rid of this side of me—”
“No!” I hate how it always goes back to that for him.
Okay, I understand why, but . . . I hate that he can’t see another way. Hell, it isn’t just Mavrak’s powers he should fear. He has the memories of five-hundred-years’ worth of flesh-ripping, eye-burning, gods-know-what-else-kind-of torture waiting for him on the other side. The details will be hell to consume. They may just break my R’mann further.
No. He needs this. He needs to be one.
I hate the fact that my new inner voice is right.
“I know,” he murmurs against my hair, surprising me. “I know now I can’t get rid of it. Zeniel . . . he wants us as one.”
My stunned gasp is loud. “What?”
“I want us to be one now, too.”
“What . . . why?” I can’t believe what I just heard. Forehead pressed to his chest, I close my eyes and pray that it’s true. My knees turn to rubber. I’m so scared of what I’m about to do that I can barely function.
“Because you want us to be one. You want us both.”
There go my legs.
He lifts me off my feet. “I just don’t know how. He fears the memories.”
My voice is tiny. “They’re that bad?”
He nods against my hair.
My tears fall onto his skin as I fight with what I have to do, and how I feel about it.
“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry for me.”
I hiccup, shaking my head. “I love you so much. I don’t want you like this. But I don’t want you to hurt anymore, either.”
“I do not care about any of that. I have you now. You’re all I need to be happy.”
I love him for that. God, I do. But if he ever hurts any of his friends, I know he’ll never be able to live with himself.
We can control that.
What?
Finally, what all these means really sinks into place. Somehow, with my new powers of Justice, I have complete control over Mavrak’s powers.
It fills me with hope—and a shitton of trepidation. Don’t fuck this up, Eve. I may be able to stop him from hurting his friends—at least, I hope so.
My nerves are shot, and my heart is broken, but it must happen.
“Evesse, don’t cry. I don’t know how, but we will find a way to become one.”
I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his ear towards my lips.
Don’t think. Just do it.
Pressing my lips to his ear, I shut my lids tight over my eyes and open my mouth. “You can’t be like this anymore.” The power behind my voice rises.
“I know that. I just said—”
“You will remember. I . . .” I push past the hesitation and continue. “Zeniel, I command you. You will merge with Mavrak. You will become one.”
He stiffens, then his entire body gives a powerful jerk before he pulls back and smiles at me. A small, grateful smile that slices me open and leaves me raw.
“Yes, my R’ma.” He presses his lips to mine in a soft claim, bringing the taste of my tears into himself as they continue to flow.
Then he’s gone, and so is my stepfather’s soul, along with the mist and any remnants of what occurred here.
All that’s left is a long, thin black ribbon secured to the wall behind me.
Alone, I crumble to the ground and sob.
CHAPTER 36
– Earth. Astoria, Queens, NY (USA)
EVESSE
N ight comes and still no sign of Zeniel. I call Ismini, but no one’s seen him in Enzyria, either. Ismini asks what’s wrong.
I can’t imagine confessing that I commanded my mate to swallow five centuries of torture and give into a primal power that’s clearly out of control.
At least not until I know he’s okay.
Besides, Ismini’s going through enough shit with her powers fluctuating all over the place.
I hear Cyake yelling in the background, pissed off because he bumped into Ismini and his hair is now pink.
Annoyed, Ismini refuses to touch him and turn his hair back to brown.
Dyletri comes on the phone and suggests that I go to Ianthen. As God of the Hunt, he can track down almost anyone, anywhere. Ianthen is with Soleria at her restaurant. She refused to close it down and stay on Enzyria until things are calmer.
I can’t blame her. We have no clue when that’ll be. Things are escalating with the Aviraji and it looks like it’s only going to get worse.
Ianthen is there because Sol needs protection, and according to Dyletri, he refuses to let anyone else guard her. Especially any of the triplets. Or Crius. Apparently, Ianthen isn’t too happy with Soleria’s response to them.
That last part is entirely Dyletri’s opinion, but I suspect he’s right.
One minute after ending the call, I open the door to Soleria’s restaurant. It’s only been a month and a half since I’ve been here, but it feels like forever. An eternity of life-changing events now stand between me and this place.
Shaking off the feeling, I take another step inside and am hit with another feeling entirely.
Fucking déjà vu.
At the back of the restaurant, cleaning a table is a short girl with long, blue-black hair. Light hazel eyes meet mine for a second then look away as she continues with her task.
I shake my head, telling myself I’m imagining things. But no. It’s there. One of the creepiest things I’ve seen since meeting Spari.
“You just gonna stand there?” Soleria asks from the cash register.
I turn and walk to her, pointing at the girl in the back. “Tell me I’m not the only one seeing this.”
“Nope,” Soleria says, counting through a stack of bills at top speed. “I’ve been seeing it for a week.”
I stop next to her. “Answers. Please.” I steal another glance at the girl.
Holy fucking shit.
“I don’t have any to give you.”
“She looks almost identical to Nylicia and Spari,” I hiss under my breath.
“Well, I haven’t officially met Spari, but the moment Izabella walked in asking for a job I saw the resemblance to Nylicia. I’m not blind, Evesse.”
I cross my arms.
“We’re looking into it.” Soleria turns to me and props her hands on the counter. “We know that Nylicia’s sister is human, as far as we can tell. And before you ask, we considered that, too. Izabella is pure human, no godly lineage that we can trace.”
Turning to stare over my shoulder, I scowl. Goddamn it, those cheekbones. There’s no way the
re isn’t a connection.
“Ancestry. Considered that?”
“We don’t have a sample of Spari’s DNA to do so, but we’re working on it. Apparently, she has gone into hiding because Cyake is a Neanderthal with the voice of Fate locked inside him.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter. “I was there.”
“I heard. Did they tell you about my own ancestral DNA results?”
I turn back to Soleria. “No . . .”
Oh shit, there is that gloating look. Sol’s baby blues are practically sparkling. “Your husband is my uncle.”
I blink, staring at Sol’s huge smile. “Come again?”
Sol sighs and rolls her eyes like I’m the dumbest person in the world. “Zen had a brother on his dad’s side, thousands of years ago. I come from that bloodline.”
“You have fucking war Erencei DNA in you?”
Soleria beams. “And Vy’shi. Apparently, demons and witches don’t mix. I’m an unheard-of combo. All my ancestors have been. Told you I was fucking awesome.”
Holy shit, it makes sense now. I always teased Soleria about her burgundy strands being dyed even though I know her hair color is real. “But you’re mostly human.”
Moving her hair behind her shoulders, Soleria scowls at me. “Duh. There’s like a gazillion or so generations separating me and your man, but we’re working on speeding up the process of bringing out either one, or both, halves of me. Immortality, bitch. I needs it. I’m eight years older than both you and Ismini and you cunts already got it. I have everyone on a must-do timeframe. They have two weeks. It’s not done, and I’m jumping off a building and forcing their hands.”
I’m tempted to notify my friend of just how crazy she sounds. Then, an image of myself jumping onto a bed next to Ismini while begging Nylicia to give me superpowers flashes through my mind.
Careful what you wish for. Better to keep my mouth shut on that one. “We. You keep saying we.”
Soleria’s cheeks pinken, and she makes a point of getting good and busy wiping down the counter. “Ianthen has been put on guard duty. I told him the least he could do is make his ass useful.”
“And Nylicia? Have you asked her about all this? Especially that back there.” I point discretely at Izabella.
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