The Omega wrenched himself away from me so quickly that he swayed, almost falling on his ass.
Hello, sullied? I’ve been called a lot of things but my witchy hands sullying a wolf kind of stung.
“Are these your Acolytes?” Mischief demanded.
I didn’t understand why his wings pulsed in violet fury.
Banan shook her head. “On my hide, they’re Goddess Moon’s priests and my precious Omegas. Come to me, my children.” She held out her arms and the Omegas flocked from the alcoves to huddle around her and Moth, nuzzling against her joyfully. Huh, I hadn’t seen that one coming. Except, she didn’t mean her true children, right? She appeared to read the question in my eyes. “These are the children that I could save, see. The witches allow me to choose Omegas to keep as priests: chaste and chosen. That way, they don’t have to be sent to the Omega Centers to be…” She rubbed her chin against an Omega’s blond head, and he whined. “I can keep them safe.”
Mischief’s expression was troubled, as his gaze met mine.
Hey, if I was an Omega then I’d be grateful to my queen too for choosing me as her child, even if it meant that I’d be shut up in a shrine and forced to never screw or love, if the alternative was to be sent to an Omega Training Center and Claimed by an enemy witch to be caged or end up as a pelt on a wall.
These were the Omegas that the queen saved because she hadn’t been able to save her son, and witching heavens, she didn’t even know yet just how much she hadn’t been able to save him.
When the waterfall thundered, I startled. Then Vala slunk with a swing of her hips into the shrine with a smug smile.
What was it with her and dramatic entrances?
My nostrils flared, and I bit my tongue hard enough to taste the tangy blood, however, when I saw who she was dragging in by his sweep of white-blond hair. I was desperate to spring at her and wrap my shadows around her coiled black hair; let her see how she liked it yanked on.
On the other hand, that was just what she wanted, right?
Vala must’ve been watching from the cameras. Her mom had decided to free me, and now Vala wanted to prove that I couldn’t be trusted with that freedom, so she was going to push my buttons.
Jesus, she knew just how to do that.
Aquilo’s eyes burned with an ice-cold fury that could’ve put the queen’s to frozen shame. But he still winced, as Vala tugged his hair harder, doubling him over to hurry behind her. Then she shoved him to his knees, before petting him just like Aquilo’s mom had petted the Ambassador.
Aquilo quivered, but he didn’t try to raise his head. He’d been too well trained by his own sister.
“Did you imagine,” Mischief said with the quiet but deadly precision of a sword being drawn, “that my warning of touching extended only to Amadeus?”
Vala bared her fangs. “Yeah, make more threats, silly god. You’re under Moon Oath and wearing a leash. Look at this, I’m touching.”
She extended the claw on her thumb, tracing it down Aquilo’s cheek and tipping up his head. When I caught sight of his long…gorgeous…pale neck, I remembered that he was no longer forced to wear the blood pendant that bound his magic. Maybe he could’ve fought his way to escape, but where could he have gone without me, when his magical engagement contract would kill him within the month? And maybe he loved me (I blamed the honey for forcing out that word), just like I was certain that I loved him. In the House of Seasons when I’d thought that he was dead, I’d almost been unable to take another breath.
That was love, right?
I’d only asked Aquilo to marry me to save him from my family but now he was mine, like I was his. No scheming princess with an incubus complex was going to take him away from me.
“Tell your dick daughter to get her hands off my fiancé.” I loved the way that Vala bristled at the same time as Aquilo’s chest puffed out with pride at my Alpha posturing.
Okay, so hex my Charmer ass, it felt epic to mouth off and claim Aquilo as mine, after hanging around for so many hours, helpless.
Plus, the squeal of the guitars had left me with a headache that pounded at my temples, and I didn’t have the patience for diplomacy.
Banan cocked her head. “By the light of the moon, why so distressed? All mages who are thrown to the wolves are given to the princess and her Crescents for first choice. After them, the Alphas take their pick. Surely you of all witches know this?”
I pushed my nails into my palms to stop myself dragging Aquilo away from Vala, as she pulled him up by his throat, whilst never taking her gaze from mine.
Whatever Aquilo suffered it was because of me.
Yet this was what happened to men in witch families who discovered that they had magic. It would’ve happened to Kolby, Aquilo’s friend, if he hadn’t been murdered by the joint efforts of the Houses of Blood and Seasons.
Had Aquilo lived the last decade in terror that his mom would decide to send him into Wolf Kingdom if he didn’t hide his magic, marry, and obey? How on earth had Aquilo not broken under that sort of pressure? I hadn’t appreciated just how brave he’d been to help my Charms and me, until that moment.
Ancient traditions sucked.
I scowled. “Nope, I’m kind of new to all this witchy tradition crap or hadn’t you noticed?” When Vala and Banan exchanged a sly glance, I stiffened. What were they hiding? “Plus, Aquilo wasn’t thrown to the wolves, he came here as an honored guest with me.”
“On fear of silver, silence!” Banan shrieked.
When the Omegas cowered, Mischief soothed the Omegas’ bowed heads with gossamer silver that swept across them as soft as kisses. They nuzzled into his caress, relaxing.
Banan’s eyes narrowed in outrage. “Your intended is of the House of Blood. By the moon, they’re our most vicious enemy who’ve bathed in the blood of my precious Omegas for a hundred years.” Vala scraped her claw down Aquilo’s cheek, beading scarlet against his blanched skin. “If my daughter hadn’t found the mage’s fair hair as pretty as any Omega’s, I’d have taken great delight in burning him by the river as an offering to Goddess Moon.”
Mischief sniffed. “I’d have rejected the offering, just so that we’re clear.”
Vala nosed along Aquilo’s neck, scenting his cool skin in a way that made me shudder with the memory of his tantalizing smell of sunshine and fresh linen that was all wrong trapped here in the stench of the earthy underground.
My chest ached at the thought of the other mages for over a hundred years who’d been held here…who were still being held here.
When Vala clicked her fingers at the Omega who was clutching the honey, he lowered his head, padding closer and holding it out to her. He was back to staring at the ground. Not that I’d want to look into Vala’s Emo does glitter face.
Vala dipped her thumb into the honey, before raising it to Aquilo’s mouth like a sweet pacifier or something else that would’ve been hot if it’d been anyone but Vala and Aquilo had been willing.
Aquilo merely turned up his pretty nose at her offering. Holy hell, I craved to feather kisses along it. Who knew that him being a snooty asshole could be a turn on?
“Didn’t I give up enough dignity already?” Aquilo drawled. A blush bloomed all the way down his neck. “Am I to be a pet or your cub surrogate as well?”
He arched his brow at Moth who was still clutching his blankie.
Aquilo had a point, but crappy timing.
Startled at his disobedience, the Omega raised his gaze to Aquilo warningly. Then he nodded at the honey in encouragement.
Vala let go of Aquilo’s throat and backhanded the Omega. Aquilo let out a hiss of protest.
“One look at a sexy mage and you forget your place, Omega,” Vala snarled. “I think that this one’s skill sets are more suited for the Omega Training Center, mother.”
The Omega whined as he cradled his scarlet cheek.
“Don’t you freaking dare,” I growled.
To my surprise, Banan tutted at her daughter, ushering
the Omega into her arms. I held my breath, but she pressed a kiss to his injured cheek, before rocking him.
Yep, that wasn’t disturbing at all.
My pack and I were at the mercy of a queen (I had a feeling it was an entire kingdom), who were searching for surrogates for their missing cubs.
Or someone to punish for the fact that they’d lost them.
“Our god will be angry with us if we hurt his priests,” Banan singsonged.
Mischief’s wings sprung out in dark splendor. He was a cuffed god, but he was still a god. “Your god is already angry with you. Release the mage.”
Banan’s face drained of warmth. “The House of Blood oppress us. After the Wolf Wars, we thought that it’d stop. That we’d be allowed this corner of Wolf Kingdom to be ours and that us survivors would be free. That was a lie. Why would you speak for them?”
I knew that Mischief shouldn’t have played the god card.
“I’m shockingly intimate with pain and loss,” Mischief murmured, “but not with yours. Yet may I request that you get over it?” My eyes widened. Hell, he didn’t just go there, did he? “This mage and witch have as little to do with the war as your cub. Tell me again, pray, why innocents should suffer for the actions of their ancestors?”
“On the moon, you’re not yet ready to be free,” Banan growled. Mischief yelped, as the silver circling his ankle yanked him backwards, pinning him to the wall. “Whilst the Blood boy and you,” Banan pointed a shaky finger from Aquilo to me, “must see and understand your true legacies.”
Vala’s grin was creepy assed and way too pleased with herself to mean anything good. She snatched Aquilo by the hair, which must be her favorite way of dragging mages, then stalked to me. I dodged out of the way because I had a sensitive scalp and I didn’t want her tugging on my curls and frizzing them either. Instead, however, she caught me by the scruff of the neck.
I’d promised to be on my best behavior and I meant it. At least, until I could find my pack and free Moon.
I realized that we truly had to take back the kingdoms for the princes and that the Omegas needed to be saved from more than the centers. Yet now that we’d defeated Stella and the witches, I was starting to understand that the wolves would be as hard to rebel against — screw that, harder — because I had to prove myself better than the previous Wolf Charmers.
I had to control the Crimson Tide.
I battled with my billowing waves of red and the instinct to struggle, as Vala squeezed my neck and pulled me towards the door. “What am I seeing?” I gasped. “Is it a romcom because then Aquilo and I can snuggle with popcorn.”
Aquilo shot me a disgusted glance that I was certain had more to do with the choice of romcom than the snuggling or popcorn: maybe he was more of a fantasy fanatic? He’d had Harry Potter stashed in his attic, after all. Okay, that sounded like a euphemism, and now I couldn’t stop the hot images…
Vala’s claws bit into my neck, and I grimaced.
“Death,” Vala hissed, “that’s what you’ll see. Because haven’t you worked it out yet? We’re all dead here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I hunched in the pitch black, smothered in the sensation of being buried alive. If Mischief had been allowed off his leash to come with us, he’d have cocooned me with his warm popcorn scented wings against the rank dusty smell and dark.
Instead, Princess Vala had dragged me along with Aquilo down a rabbit warren of corridors, before shoving me through a tiny door and slamming it behind her. Then she’d pushed me into the corner — alone — like a kid who needed time to think about what they’d done.
The crescent-shaped sign outside had read, MUSEUM OF DEATH.
Trust me, after that sign I didn’t expect the princess showering Aquilo and me in chocolate sauce, whilst the Crescents swung each other around in a cheerful dance to Imagine Dragon’s “On Top of the World.”
Hey, I’m an optimist but I hadn’t cast a Self-Delusion spell.
Yet I also hadn’t been prepared for the crushing despair that quivered through my shadows, which trembled and clung close to me. I’d never felt their fear before, only rage, joy, desire, and even distress. But not fear, even whilst they’d been bound.
When I shifted from foot to foot on the uneven floor, something cracked.
Crunch — crack — crunch.
What on Hecate’s breath was I standing on?
“What a truly terrible host I am.” Vala’s husky voice filled the museum. “Poor little witches and mages need light.”
On her bellowed light, the entire circular ceiling lit ghostly pale, but still bright enough after the dark to make me squint. I blinked, as my eyes watered, peering at the circular room, which appeared to be…a catacomb. Unless, you know, there was another name for somewhere with walls stuck with skulls.
Wait, there was: The Museum of freaking Death.
What kind of screwed-up grave had Vala brought me to, where the skulls weren’t the most disturbing thing? That honor went to the stuffed Omegas who were posed all around and watched me with glass eyes.
My crimson burst out in an instinctive effort to protect me, pooling the room in blood. My hands shook.
Son of a bitch, the asshole wolves seriously believed in the power of the hands-on learning experience.
I glanced at Aquilo, wishing that I could hold him, even though he wouldn’t lean into my touch like Moon would. It didn’t matter though; I knew that he’d need the reassurance as much as I did.
Yep, I’d say he needed a big ass hug of reassurance.
Aquilo was ashen, and his eyes looked haunted. I hadn’t noticed the shadows underneath them before, but I did now. He looked exhausted, and as if he understood more about this museum than I did with a weary sadness. How hard had it been for him to survive his family’s torments and find a way to escape to seek the vampires’ help? He’d been holding himself together for so long, would he shatter now?
Not if I could witching help it.
The way that Vala stroked the back of Aquilo’s neck was surprisingly gentle, even though her words were sharp as a blade, “Are you enjoying your family’s work? One thing you can say for Bloods, they take great pride in their murders.”
Aquilo fell to his knees with a crack, before bending over and puking. Screw staying in my corner like a good witch. My fiancé needed me and he wasn’t unwanted and thrown to the wolves: he was loved by me. The magical contract of the blood bracelet screamed my claim on him in throbbing scarlet, even if I hated the dickish ownership part of that.
Vala could play with Aquilo like a doll, but it didn’t change that he was my pack. And my pack was spitting up on the floor, whilst shaking and pale, because of Vala’s cruelty.
I crouched next to Aquilo, stroking his sweaty hair back from his fevered forehead; his blue eyes welled with tears like the rising tides in the Arctic ocean. Then I sneezed on the bone-dust.
Yuck, yuck, and yuck.
My foot crunched again beneath me, and I glanced down, before recoiling. The floor was a sea of bones and skulls like the walls. I’d been standing and walking on the dead.
Was this the dead that the queen had meant? Why had Aquilo and me been brought to this grave?
Vala cocked her head as she scrutinized Aquilo’s anguish. “Interesting. It’s almost like you’re not proud, single skin of the House of Blood.”
Aquilo wiped his shaky hand across his mouth. “Please believe me, I’m not.”
Vala brushed her hand down her hip in a move that would’ve been seductive, except…hello, bones. “Why should I believe anything that a mage says?”
I dug my nails into my dress to stop myself shooting out my red and pinning her in a web amongst the lights. Why couldn’t ball gowns have pockets? I needed to stuff my hands into them to resist the temptation.
Oblivious to my struggle, Vala slunk between the stuffed wolves, stroking each one in turn — on their snout, down their back, or behind their ear — in a ritual that appeared familiar as
if they were childhood friends and this was both a greeting and a blessing. It was kind of like they were still alive and her own family.
I hugged my arms around myself because her love for these stuffed wolves was too close to Emperor’s own tender blessing of the stone wolves who’d been trapped in the courtyard of the House of Blood.
It was easy to forget that both were royalty. But then, that was because Princess Vala was a dick.
“Dude, your daytrip is going to receive a seriously low score.” I pushed myself to my feet. “I saw your kingdom on a map at my aunt’s, and it was next to the river and everything. But all you can come up with to show me is bones?”
For a moment, Vala’s fangs extended so far in her fury that I thought she’d partially shift. My shadows whipped around me in case I had to defend myself (hey, if Mischief could have that clause in his Moon Oath, I was certain that it could extend to me as well). Then she shook her shoulders as if to calm herself, although she still spoke through a mouthful of fangs.
“Witches paint murals and paintings of their victories. These aren’t bones: they’re the legacy of your great-grandmother — the Crimson Terror of the Wolf War.” I gaped at her. Zetta had called my great-grandmother the Crimson Hero of the Wolf War. I guessed it all depended which side of her shadows you stood, and since I’d watched the hell that she’d unleashed on the shifters, dashing them into the Thames, Terror sounded about right from their side. “Surely you want to revel in her greatest achievement?”
I cringed, understanding my shadows fear now: here were the accusing dead killed by my ancestors, and boy, did I feel the weight of my family’s crimes.
“Nope, I truly don’t want to revel, charcoal a quick sketch in commemoration, or throw a “Witches Won” party,” I replied. “I hate that my ancestors did this to yours, and I’ll fight to stop another such atrocity. I have fought to save you from a second war. I can’t promise that this will never happen again because duh, just look at the world, it always does. But I’ll battle to make certain that it’s not whilst I’m here because my shadows do more than control, they can protect as well. So, are you done dicking around with the scare tactics now?”
Only Pretty Betas: A Shifter Paranormal Romance Series (Rebel Werewolves Book 2) Page 23