by Lexi C. Foss
Sethios hadn’t known his mate.
They were bonded in a way his mind couldn’t comprehend because of the fog inflicted upon him by his father’s persuasion.
And now, he couldn’t find her. Because she’d given up on him, on the world, on anyone ever rescuing her from the chains binding her beneath the sea.
His knees threatened to give, his chest an empty cavern drowning beneath a wave of anguish. In a way, Osiris’s torment had been a blessing. He’d provided Sethios over a decade of nothingness. No pain. No understanding. No care in the world.
Now it all crashed over him with the heat of a million suns, burning every molecule inside him.
He had to pull it together. Not just for Caro, but for Astasiya.
Ah, his little angel. She’d grown into a woman in the blink of an eye. She was seven yesterday. At least to him.
Sethios blew out a breath and ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. This self-pity bullshit wasn’t going to fix a damn thing. He needed to find Caro. Then he needed to find a way to take his father down. Killing the old man wasn’t an option—Seraphim couldn’t die—but he could immobilize him. Perhaps by pouring a vat of concrete over his head.
Sethios shuddered at the thought of his last “punishment” orchestrated by his asshole of a father. Osiris had forced Sethios to bury himself alive by dousing himself in liquid concrete. It had hurt like a son of a bitch. And yet, oddly, it still didn’t compare to the agony inside him now.
He felt as though his soul was ripped in half. Shredded. Destroyed.
Caro remained unattainable, her last whisper in his mind reminiscent of a dream. Had that been her or his own mind playing tricks on him?
Fuck, the pain she must feel…
He swallowed, his eyes briefly closing once more. He needed to get over this pity party and start the search.
There was just one problem.
He had no idea where to begin
Gabriel had shown him on a map all the places he’d looked so far—of which there were thousands—and none of them revealed even a hint of her location. This planet was mostly composed of water, leaving the possibilities endless. And without her talking to him, he stood little to no chance of discovering her whereabouts.
Not that she could help much from below the surface.
Sethios began to pace, something he’d done quite a bit of out on this beach. Gabriel owned the entire island, his house only taking up a small speck of space. Some of the underbrush could use a little trimming, but it was otherwise an ideal piece of real estate out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The waves were rough, crashing against the shore with a fury that rivaled Sethios’s mood.
He walked alone, indulging in the night, seeking out the solitude offered among the stars. Nearly two decades flashed behind his eyes, there and gone in an instant. It was such a minuscule scrap of time. And yet, it was profoundly life-altering.
Three thousand years of existence had not prepared him to feel this way. So alone. So devastated. So wronged.
His hands curled into fists, his mind wandering to his angel once more. Where are you, Caro? Talk to me.
“Dad?” a voice called instead, his daughter appearing in a flurry of translucent feathers a few feet away. Her wings fluttered around her as she found her footing, the plumes a brilliant opal shade beneath the moon. Then they disappeared as she took her corporeal state, her expression one of astute concentration.
She was still learning how to control her angelic talents, including the one that allowed her to compel others.
“Hi, little angel,” Sethios murmured, doing his best to tamp down the anger he felt inside. He didn’t want to scare her, not after they’d been so recently reacquainted.
It was a bit strange having a fully grown daughter whom he hadn’t seen in years, one who had already found her other half. Sethios almost felt replaced in a way, her loyalty split between the family she once knew and the one she’d created on her own.
He hadn’t decided how he wanted to react to that yet.
A darker part of Sethios wanted to slaughter the immortal who thought he was good enough to date—no, not just date, but mate—his daughter.
Meanwhile, a wiser part of him respected Issac Wakefield’s confidence. The Ichorian hadn’t once bowed to Sethios, his main priority very clearly Astasiya and only Astasiya.
Time would tell whether the darker side would win out against the wiser side.
Right now, he embraced the latter. For his daughter’s sake.
He opened his arms for her, offering a hug that felt right yet foreign at the same time. If she noticed, she didn’t mention it, just returned the gesture before following his gaze upward into the stars.
“Your mother and I used to enjoy nights like this,” he explained softly. “There was very little light around Seeley Lake. It provided us a sense of peace and security.”
A false security, of course.
They’d never been truly safe, just as they weren’t safe here either. Not with the Seraphim residing so close by and his father trying to hunt them down.
The two of them stood in silence for a long moment, his arm around her shoulders, their gazes on the sky.
Serenity surrounded him for an instant, his heart reveling in the choices he and Caro had made. Their separation hurt, but in the end, they’d done the right thing.
After a few more minutes, he released Astasiya and took a step away to face her fully. She hadn’t come here to stargaze. He could see the resolve in her green eyes, so similar to his own. However, the rest of her was all Caro—athletic with feminine curves, long blonde hair, soft yet elegant features, ethereal and beautiful.
It almost hurt to look at her.
And yet, he found himself grinning.
“What?” Astasiya asked.
“You just remind me so much of your mother,” he admitted softly. Something he’d mentioned before yet felt the need to say again. Because it was so very true. “Although, your emotions are a bit more impressive than hers. I suspect you get that from me.”
“If you’re talking about earlier, well, Stark deserved it.”
Sethios’s lips twitched. “Can’t deny that,” he agreed, amused.
Astasiya was nowhere near ready to forgive her brother for his choices over the last two decades. While Sethios understood many of the Seraphim’s decisions, he had to admit that Gabriel Stark had royally fucked up a few details. One of those decisions had even led to Astasiya being buried alive, which was unacceptable to all parties involved.
“You know he meant well,” Sethios offered as a consolatory statement. “But I agree he could have handled it a little better.”
“A little better?” she repeated, incredulous. “He let me think I was toxic to Issac. Not to mention the whole death incident. Oh, and letting us all think he was working with John.” She scrunched her nose, reminding him of her favorite stubborn expression from childhood. “The memory manipulation thing sucked, too.”
He chuckled under his breath, saying, “Yeah. As I said, he could have handled it better.”
“You said ‘a little better,’ ” she replied. “He could have handled it a lot better.”
“He’s young and learning.” Not necessarily an excuse so much as a fact. “And his experience with non-Seraphim beings is sorely lacking.”
She grunted. “No shit.” She considered that for a moment. “Is Mom…?” She trailed off.
“Similar to Gabriel?” Sethios asked.
Astasiya nodded.
“At one time, yes,” he murmured, recalling how he first met Caro at the Arcadia in New York City.
His lips twitched fondly with the memory. She’d shown up in her regal Seraphim form, wanting to deliver an edict to his father. Only, Sethios hadn’t allowed her to utter that message to the intended source. Instead, he’d persuaded her to remain silent, then he’d taken her home for some fun.
“She learned how to feel,” he summarized, not wanting to provide his d
aughter with the details of how she was created. Something told him she wouldn’t be interested in hearing the story about how he’d used her mother’s favorite knives in the bedroom.
Do you remember that night, angel? he thought at Caro. How I fucked you up against the glass? Then taunted you with your blades the next morning? You came all over the steel edge before I fucked you to oblivion and back.
A spike of heat caressed his heart, there and gone in a second, causing him to frown.
Is that what you need, angel? Visuals of our past? He would send her thousands if that was what it took. His mind contained an arsenal to last a lifetime. Even with a child running around, they found time to indulge in his dark depravities. Mostly because there was just so much he’d needed to teach Caro.
Which drew him back to Astasiya and her questions regarding her mother’s emotions. “She’s much more in tune than your brother,” he said.
“I think everyone is more ‘in tune’ than Stark,” she muttered.
Sethios couldn’t argue with that. Even Leela and Vera appeared to be more emotionally inclined than the warrior Seraphim.
He studied his daughter for a long moment, curious as to why she’d sought him out. “What do you want to ask me?” He pitched his voice low, letting her know with his tone that she could demand anything and everything from him, and he would ensure it happened. She meant the world to him. Just like his Caro.
But does she really mean enough? he wondered idly, some of his guilt peeking through. You forgot her for eighteen years. All because of Osiris’s compulsion.
Sethios’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth, annoyed with that pesky line of reasoning. Yet it continued to haunt him, the very realization that he’d let his entire family down for eighteen fucking years.
Astasiya must have read the change in him, because she took a step back, her throat working over a swallow. “I… I wanted to talk to you about Mom. I had another dream.”
His focus sharpened. “In the water?”
She nodded, then frowned. “Sort of.”
That didn’t sound good. “Sort of?”
“It was strange. We were in the water, but she could breathe.”
“Did she say anything?”
Astasiya shook her head. “No. She was too terrified to speak.” His daughter paused, her brow furrowing. “It was just really weird because we didn’t drown. Yet everything was dark and heavy, like we were in the water, but the atmosphere didn’t feel right. I don’t know; maybe it was just a standard nightmare.” Her lips twisted to the side. “Except, it felt like Mom.”
Sethios considered the description, his own mind seeking out Caro for an explanation and coming back with nothing once more.
It frustrated him to no end.
Yes, all right. He’d fucked up. His father had broken him via a method he never could have anticipated.
The issue was he should have expected it.
Osiris was creative and always one step ahead. Sethios knew better than to think he could possibly best him.
And yet… he had bested his father in a way. By keeping Astasiya a secret.
Maybe having his mind completely wiped had actually been a gift, granting Sethios a way to guard everyone he held dear.
He’d have to ponder that train of thought later. There would inevitably be a hole he could crawl into, one that allowed him to return to his state of self-loathing. But, for now, he allowed that benefit to empower him into action. Because wallowing wasn’t doing a damn thing for him.
“Did Issac see your nightmare?” Sethios asked.
“Yes.” Astasiya grimaced. “He woke me up when it turned too dark.”
“Too dark?”
“Consuming,” she whispered. “I couldn’t seem to swim out of the hole.”
He frowned. The imagery unnerved him. However, he wanted to see it for himself. “Where’s Issac now?”
“At the house. He would have come with me, but I wanted to mist.”
And he currently couldn’t travel via mist with her, or his control over Skye’s mind would lapse, sending her into a fit of insanity. Osiris had broken her mind entirely, compelling her to kill herself should someone take her away from him without approval. Which was exactly what Ezekiel and the others had done during Sethios’s rescue—they’d kidnapped Osiris’s prized asset—his pet seer.
“When was the last time Issac slept?” Sethios wondered out loud.
“He hasn’t,” she replied. “Not since Skye arrived.”
Because if he slept, the seer would awaken and try to take her own life. “We need to find a better solution to that problem.”
“I know. I’ve been trying to find a way to warp Osiris’s compulsion or break it, but nothing I’ve done works. He’s just too strong.”
“You’ll get there,” Sethios said, fully confident in his daughter’s abilities. “He just has a few years of experience on you, is all.”
“A few years?” She snorted. “Try ten thousand years.”
“More, actually,” Sethios murmured. “But you have something he’s never mastered, little angel.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Heart,” Sethios replied, smiling. “You care. That’s a powerful weapon, one he will never understand.” He reached out to squeeze her shoulder, giving her his best indulgent look. “Let’s go talk to your boyfriend.” Sethios really hated that fucking word, especially when in reference to his daughter’s life. “I want to see this dream. Then perhaps you and I can give Skye’s compulsion a go together.”
The dream was as dark as Astasiya had described, the webs around her thick and complicated. He searched the visual Issac provided, finding nothing that gave away Caro’s position.
But he sensed her fear.
What’s changed? he asked her. Why are you suddenly terrified, sweet angel?
Again, nothing.
How strange. He used to adore silence. He’d even compelled her to be quiet the first time they’d met. Now he would give anything to make her speak. Even a scream would do.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t hear her.” If he said those four words out loud one more time, he might lose his ever-loving shit.
How the fuck was he supposed to find her when he couldn’t even sense her?
Oh, he felt the cord tied to his heart, the frayed edges stabbing his insides like angry little thorns.
But apart from that pesky sensation, he felt nothing. And he hated feeling nothing.
“I can try to sleep again,” his daughter offered softly. “Maybe the dream will be clearer?”
“Or it could consume you again,” Issac said, sounding far too tired. Sethios could see the concern in his gaze, not for himself but for the female he clearly loved.
How will Caro feel about their relationship? Sethios wondered idly. It would shock her, just as it had him. However, he suspected she would approve, if nothing more than because of the way Issac looked at their daughter.
Sethios shook his head. Enough of that. “Let’s see what we can do about Skye,” he said, needing a distraction.
He also wasn’t keen on the idea of returning his daughter to the black hole of her dream state. There hadn’t been anything useful in that reverie, making it more dangerous to her psyche than useful to their search. And Caro would never approve of putting Astasiya at risk for her own benefit.
“Okay,” his daughter agreed, her relief palpable.
Issac flashed Sethios a grateful look, then followed Astasiya as she walked toward the stairs.
Poor Gabriel had each of his guest rooms occupied. Most were sharing space with a few sleeping on couches. But Skye had been provided her own bed.
Ezekiel stood as they entered, his hair tangled and unkempt, his clothes at least four days old. “You need to take a fucking shower,” Sethios told him. “Right now.”
His oldest friend snorted. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, it’s not for your benefit but for mine. You look like shit.”
&
nbsp; “Says the man who resembled a Neanderthal last week.”
Sethios rolled his eyes. One of Osiris’s favorite torments was to compel hair growth. It hurt like hell. So did the razor he used to remove it. Just to begin the agony again. That had been Sethios’s punishment for removing the stitches from his mouth a few weeks, or months, or maybe years, prior.
Time was a funny thing. While Sethios could remember almost every detail of his time in captivity, he had no concept of when things occurred, thanks to his bruised mental state.
Regardless, he needed his friend to take a damn shower.
“Skye’s nose will thank you,” he said, arching a brow. “Unless you’re trying to torment her by forcing her to remain in close quarters with you in this state?”
The question was carefully phrased, the word “torment” one of Ezekiel’s hot buttons when in reference to Skye.
It provoked the male into action, his lithe form moving with lightning speed as he attempted to send a fist into Sethios’s jaw. The two of them rarely sparred, but when they did, it was an even match. At least when they were both at full health.
Today, Ezekiel was not at full health.
Sethios dodged him by stepping to the side, causing his best friend to lose his balance. It sent Ezekiel right into the wall, but the bastard traced to behind Sethios and tried again.
They danced in a circle, Sethios ducking while Ezekiel swung.
“I can do this all night,” Sethios taunted. He had a lot of fury to burn off, as did Ezekiel. Osiris had taken Skye from him a century ago and had been abusing the pair ever since.
She’d predicted Ezekiel would be her downfall, had tried to escape him on numerous occasions, but he’d been infatuated with the dark-haired beauty, chasing her all over the earth.
He tracked her with ease, his assassin roots assisting in his pursuit. However, a day after her capture, Osiris had arrived and demanded Ezekiel hand her over.
Which was why Sethios’s best friend had opted to work with Osiris.
Not because he approved of the old man’s inane plans, but because he held Ezekiel’s heart—Skye.