Blood Oath (#8, the Mystic Wolves)

by Belinda Boring

  If she thought my whispered admission was odd, she didn’t let on. I didn’t give her a chance, anyway, recapturing her mouth once more. Fire rushed through my veins. She was intoxicating.

  I hadn’t realized how starved I was until I caught that first taste of her—memories rushing at me with lightning precision.

  I hadn’t known just how lost I was until I found myself drowning in her kiss.

  Her touch.

  Her scent.

  Like a junkie chasing his first high, she’d reduced me to the man I once was—before becoming consumed by darkness and the monster forever lurking within.

  She would’ve been my redemption.

  She would’ve been the one to pull me back from the brink of madness.

  Instead, she would become a symbol, a constant reminder of the hunger that governed my baser instincts, which could never be allowed free rein.

  She’d been my strength and my weakness wrapped up in an intoxicating package of both beauty and elegance.

  And here she was again . . . Verity.

  My truth.

  The one certainty I would never escape.

  “Forgive me,” I uttered, unable to keep it inside a second longer. “Promise me something?”

  Sensing the shift and the urgency of my plea, Verity didn’t hesitate. Cradling my face in her hands tenderly, staring into my eyes earnestly, she nodded. “Always and forever.”

  They were the words I’d often heard Darcy and her mate exchange—a sentiment that would lance my heart with pain because they were also the words of my own beloved.

  Always and forever.

  Unlike us, my sweet niece and her alpha would get their happily ever after. I would protect their love with a fiery determination that I’d failed to show my own betrothed.

  “I love you, Verity.”

  “I love you, Devlin,” she replied.

  I didn’t want to let her go.

  I didn’t want to leave the safety of the stable and face what was waiting for me outside.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she finally asked, interrupting my thoughts. “You seem . . . not quite yourself.”

  Hugging her to me one more time, I reluctantly let her go and forced a smile onto my face. “I am. Join me for a ride?” At the sound of possibly escaping her confines, Beauty perked up, stomping her front legs impatiently.

  “I’ll go anywhere with you, Devlin Lockhart. All you need do is ask.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to beg her to venture with me into the darkness.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t need to.

  As fate would have it, she would find me in there anyway.

  Eventually.

  Come what may.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I was alive.

  The grey skies above set the perfect backdrop for the heartbreaking task of burying my beloved sister, but still I couldn’t keep a sense of awe and wonder from creeping into my mind—distracting me.

  Everywhere I turned, colors blazed with a brightness I’d forgotten and waves of nostalgia crashed over me as I slowly led the funeral procession to the local graveyard. This was the place of my childhood—each tree one I’d climbed, each road leading to some forgotten expedition.

  But it all paled in comparison to the exhilarating scents that filled each breath I took.

  In particular, Verity’s hair danced softly in the cool breeze and it reminded me of long ago summers spent chasing butterflies, picking wild flowers I would later weave into a crown for her to wear, and countless evenings where we kissed beneath twinkling stars.

  She was the one my heart had beaten for—the one I’d given it to with no other hope than I could love her for the rest of my life.

  She would prove to be the woman I’d measure all others against.

  She was the one I saw randomly in my travels, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I hastened my steps, desperate to discover if it was Verity, only to be crushed and disappointed every time I realized it was just a figment of my imagination.

  I was alive and here she was, within reach, oblivious to a future that would forever separate us and leave me riddled with relentless guilt.

  Shaking my head, I cleared the inevitability that rushed toward me, and instead focused on the things I knew . . . that I could somewhat control.

  Today was the day we buried Elynor—first in a ceremony for my parents, family, and friends, and later we would engage in a private ritual honoring her belief in the Goddess and the magic that guided her brief existence.

  Memories returned about Darcy, and the stark difference between my niece and me. Many years in the future, when her mate, Mason, was brutally slain, her grief had all but destroyed her. Words yet to be spoken echoed in my mind—her pleas for us to find some kind of spell to bring him back to her. Her sanity fractured with each second he remained dead until desperation had her talking about forbidden enchantments.

  The thought had come to me as well. About how easy it would be to say a few words combined with candles, herbs, and blood, and my Elynor would return.

  But at what cost?

  If there was one thing I’d learned as a vampire it was that there was no holding back the reality of death. You could prolong your life with the illusion of cheating a natural part of existing, but sooner or later, it would come knocking.

  I didn’t harbor the same foolish arrogance I saw in so many members of the Supernatural community. One day, without warning, my time would be up and I would move on to the afterlife . . . whatever that held in store for me. I hoped that I’d managed to redeem myself before then, but if not, I would accept my lot.

  It was one of the few things I could control, and it oddly brought me some small semblance of peace.

  No, I wouldn’t obsess over it.

  I had other things tugging at my attention . . . like the way Verity’s hand felt in mine, the warmth of her touch heating me down to the core.

  It had been way too long because all I’d felt since becoming a vampire was cold.

  Dragging another lungful of air through my nose, I caught a few wisps of Verity’s scent—the vanilla oil she knew I loved lightly coating the pulse points at her neck. It was arousing as much as it was comforting. It was the small things I’d taken for granted and now longed for with everything in me.

  “I’m worried about your mother,” she whispered, leaning in so only I could hear her. I followed Verity’s gaze to my mother and father who were at the front of the small procession.

  The slow, steady clops of Beauty and her stable mate, Wallace’s hooves set the pace. Vivien and Elynor’s coven sisters had woken at the crack of dawn to decorate the open wagon carrying my sister’s body with flowers and vines. My heart ached knowing the clean shroud truly held Elynor within its folds.

  It didn’t matter that I’d already survived this day and the many that followed where I’d find myself reliving it. It was like a fresh wound that hurt with each step . . . each breath . . . each second that distanced me from our last conversation.

  But this wasn’t about me.

  It was about my grieving parents losing a beloved child—unaware that with their daughter’s passing, they’d also lost their son.

  “She is strong,” I murmured, squeezing her hand. It was a mantra I’d begun chanting inwardly since returning home from riding last night. Her tearful wails had lingered late into the evening, fading only as sleep finally took her. My father hadn’t fared any better. He remained silent and stoic, holding his wife when she needed it, keeping his tears locked away.

  I’d gotten that from him—the ability to push down unbelievable pain despite how it ate away at my insides. It was about those we loved and ensuring that they didn’t buckle beneath the pressure.

  He did it for my mother.

  In turn, I would later do it for Darcy.

  We Lockhart men came second to the women we loved and promised to protect.

  Just then, my mother’s steps faltered when she saw we were n
earing the cemetery, her legs collapsing beneath her.

  “Go,” Verity spoke, but I’d already begun reaching for the woman who’d given me life. Encircling her waist with my arm, I kept her upright until she found her footing.

  “Forgive me, son,” she apologized with a trembling voice. It was hard to mistake the pronounced tremor in her hand as she wiped her cheeks with a tear-filled handkerchief.

  “Mama,” I started, holding her tighter. Oh, how I wished I could shelter her from this. “Lean on me. I have you.” My father nodded his gratitude. It left me wondering how he was even able to place one foot in front of the other. Instead, the muscle in his jawline ticked beneath the strain of his clenched teeth, and he took hold of her other arm, helping support her. “Not much further.”

  “Too young,” she repeated, over and over, her gaze never leaving the back of the wagon. Her breath hitched as new tears spilled over her wrinkled cheeks. “Promise me, Devlin, promise me before we reach her resting place.”

  “What is it, mama?” I knew what she was about to ask me. It still felt like a sucker punch to the gut when she uttered it.

  “Never leave me. Be a good boy and marry that pretty Verity of yours. Give me grandbabies and never leave. I don’t think I could bear seeing you go.” She gripped my fingers tightly, forcing me to look down into her hopeful eyes, shining with her need to safeguard her only living child.

  The lie felt like poison on my tongue but I spoke it anyway. “Yes. I promise. Please don’t worry. Everything will be as it should.” Yet another falsehood my soul carried that would weigh me down.

  But a dutiful son did whatever necessary to bring peace of mind to his mother. In this, I could still hold on to the eroding tendrils of my honor.

  “Good, good.” Her relief was almost palpable. “Will you remain with her . . . at least this first night? Our Elynor was always scared of the dark.” The smallest of smiles crept over her lips at some memory.

  “You know, she only said that so Father would set up a bed for her by the large fire. She used to tease me the next morning when I woke up, stiff and cold from the winter frost.”

  “How do you explain the summer, then?” Her tears had stopped.

  “The first of Betsy’s milk.” It was yet another thing my youngest sister loved taunting me over growing up. She’d thought she was so smart being able to secure small luxuries, but that was the thing. They were hers alone. At any given time, I could have fought with her and claimed some for myself, but the joy of seeing her happy was more of an incentive.

  I loved my family.

  There was nothing I wouldn’t do for them.

  “Oh, Betsy. How she loved that first taste of fresh cream.”

  “Especially when you added a few pieces of shaved chocolate to it as a treat,” my father added. He may be the silent kind, but he was always listening. “I still can not believe you spent so much of your earnings on something so frivolous, son.”

  All I could do was nod. It had been a source of discussion the night I’d come home with it. Times had been tough and there were many other obligations the money could have been spent on, but it had been worth every penny. Elynor’s mouth had formed an O when she caught the first delicious scent, her eyes widening in delight at the first sip.

  She’d been my world, and now she was gone.

  “Hush now,” my mother chided. “It’s what brothers do.”

  Our steps finally slowed to a stop as we reached our destination. Whether it was to watch the horses come to a halt, or to take one last fortifying breath of courage to continue on, I didn’t know. I didn’t know then and the answer eluded me even now.

  Whatever the reason, everything around us stilled as if it was waiting for us to make that first move into the church graveyard. Like it wouldn’t be real until then.

  “Devlin?” Verity asked, coming up from behind with her aunt. Vivien would become one of my greatest allies and supporters—a dear, dear friend who would sacrifice her own life to help me honor the blood oath. Right now, however, as well as being my late sister’s coven leader and high priestess, she was Verity’s aunt.

  I would have so much to answer for.

  She would forgive the unforgivable.

  “Just give us a moment, love.” Something silent passed between us. She understood that this would be one of the hardest moments for my family.

  My parents huddled together, almost shrinking into themselves before they drew upon each other’s strength, straightening to face the next hour. The love they shared was enviable and something I would always strive to find for myself. It didn’t matter how dire the situation or insurmountable the challenge. They turned to each other, and as one, became united.

  “We’re ready,” my mother sniffled, brushing her tears away with the back of her hand.

  My father nodded, gesturing to those waiting for us. “Lead the way, son.”

  Smiling, I cast one last glance at Verity, drawing on the love I found reflected in her sweet features. “Then it’s time to say goodbye.”

  One foot in front of the other, I entered that graveyard.

  I would be a much different man, later, when I left it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Death would never get easier to accept.

  “Love you, my son.” His voice cracked under the weight of his grief, and I nodded to my father as he cast another painful glance at the grave. “Don’t linger too long. Guests will begin arriving shortly.”

  The sight of both my parents walking slowly away—hunched over as they clung to each other—would be one I’d never forget. For as long as I’d breathe, I would blame myself for failing them. It was easier to believe within the vault of memories I guarded that it should’ve been me in that freshly filled grave and not Elynor. She was the pure one. She was the one that brought light and goodness to our family. For all the blessings they claimed came from me, I knew better. Whatever joy flowed out from my childhood, it eroded beneath the onslaught of ugliness that I knew was fast approaching.

  Countless times I was counseled to let go of my past—was assured I couldn’t solely be judged on those choices and actions . . . I had unquestionably made amends for them.

  Still, standing on this side of history with the full and complete knowledge of what was to come? It filled me with shame, knowing I couldn’t do a single thing to alter my course . . . to reshape my future.

  It left me wondering if villains felt this same sense of quiet loathing and regret. Did they ever realize they were on a path to destruction yet helpless to stop?

  Yet, even as those thoughts trickled over me, I knew the truth. Villains didn’t view themselves that way. They believed, just as I had when I lived through these moments the first time, that they were the heroes of their story and doing the best they could.

  The road to Hell was paved with good intentions, right?

  Mine was lined with glowing bricks.

  Dried leaves crunched behind me, warning me only moments before a soft hand slid into mine and I found myself torn. As much as I missed the powers and gifts becoming a vampire had granted me, it had been forever since I’d been snuck up on.

  I’d been surrounded by death for so long I’d forgotten the wonders of being human and all it’s glorious limitations.

  “As soon as the last mourner leaves, we’ll get started,” Verity murmured, her thumb brushing over the back of my hand in a comforting fashion. Elynor had been buried on church land with a priest to officiate her service, but her heart had belonged to her Goddess. Once alone, Vivien and I had planned a small, intimate ritual to honor her faith in the Old Religion.

  “Run away with me,” I blurted, knowing that Verity wouldn’t understand the thick desperation coating my plea. Sure enough, she peered up at me in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. It wasn’t like me to sound so frantic.

  “Devlin?”

  I kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for being here.” Hopefully, if I changed the subject she wouldn’t push it fur
ther.

  Her lips parted, the question on the tip of her tongue. I could see the war raging in her eyes, and it was near impossible not to sigh in relief when she followed my lead and smiled—a good thing because I honestly didn’t have the right words to explain everything to her, anyway. Not without her thinking I’d lost my mind, talking a bunch of nonsense. Witchcraft and magic was one thing to Verity. Time travel and deals with the Moirai another.

  “Where else would I be but by your side?”

  Her omission made me want to weep. It made me want to scream that she should flee and never, ever, look back if she knew what was good for her. I was destined to hurt her—devastate and destroy the image of our blissful, perfect future building in her mind. I would soon set fire to it, rain down blood and gore so deep it would drag her down, drowning her.

  I couldn’t speak.

  Lifting up on her tiptoes, I closed my eyes when she feathered a soft kiss over my mouth. “I love you.”

  Clenching my jaw, my arms wrapped around her waist, and I did the only thing I trusted myself to do. My fingers slipped through the silky strands of her dark hair and I reverently held her face between my hands.

  She was my everything. She was how my life should’ve been. She was the first thing I thought of when I woke in the morning and the one I fantasized about at night before sleep claimed me. She would become another spectre that would haunt me. Her pain would be one more thing for which I needed to atone.

  I claimed her mouth, and with each dip of my tongue, I drew her taste deeper into me. I was already facing hellfire and damnation . . . why not store more memories to keep me company?

  When I finally released her, the dazed twinkle in her eyes matched how I felt . . . drunk on love. Her expression didn’t last long, however, tempting me to kiss her senseless again.

  As her brow furrowed, Verity brushed her thumb over my cheek, capturing tears I hadn’t known I’d shed. “What’s going on, Devlin? What are you hiding from me?”

  How could I possibly explain everything that was churning within my heart and mind?