I hadn’t heard the word since the last time life was good—when I was a kid and my parents were still together, still loved each other. Once upon a time, I had believed in love, but not anymore. I’d never use that word unless I meant it the way I believed my father had when he’d said it to my mother.
But that had been a very long time ago, and kids never see the truth behind the lies.
I came before I could follow the trail of that thought, only dimly registering the fresh flood of magic and ecstatic cries that accompanied her own orgasm. I collapsed to the pillows and she lay on her side facing me, her face inscrutable.
“We shouldn’t have fucked,” I said, wincing as the old familiar feeling of regret crept over me.
She gave me a sad smile and reached out to cup my cheek. Some of my regret eased as she slipped close, then turned and nestled back against me, her soft butt pressing into my hips. I slipped an arm around her middle and held her close, surprised by how fucking right it felt just to have her near.
“I don’t care. I’ve wanted you to fuck me like that for a long time. We never got a chance to have fun with it at the beginning. I wanted to. But I made that stupid request, and we only had the one night before we left the realm of the gods and came home.
“After that, everything changed. I forgot what we’d done. It didn’t stop me from wanting you every second, but I forgot I’d already had you. That I could have had more if I’d remembered.”
I gave into the urge to nuzzle her hair. I’d never experienced such a deep craving for a woman before, one that had me hard again mere moments after I’d come. I already wanted more, even though it made no sense, considering the conflicted feelings I had now that she’d dredged up those old memories.
“Are you all right with meaningless sex until we figure out if we can fix me?” I asked her.
“As long as you finally believe it’s possible that you can feel love. Because you did, you know. Even though you don’t believe me, I know you did.”
I swallowed thickly. “Yeah. I believe you now. And I’d like to remember.”
“What changed your mind?” she whispered.
“That name I had for you . . .”
I cleared my throat, struggling to spit out the words. They were the truth she really wanted to hear, and the only thing that could’ve possibly made me believe her.
“Szívem means ‘my heart’ in my mother tongue, Deva. And I would have never called you that if I hadn’t truly believed that’s what you were to me.”
9
Deva
I woke with a sudden sense of panic and jolted up out of bed. Beside me, Ozzie made a rough noise of protest, then a softer, barely articulate query asking whether everything was all right.
I’d been so lost to the fever last night I hadn’t processed what was missing when I regained my senses. It all came back in a rush and I turned to scoot off the bed, pulling away from Ozzie’s embrace, only to stop short at the sight of the four men lounging on the sofas several feet away.
“How long have you been here?” I asked, darting a look at each beloved face. Llyr lifted a single brow. Keagan, Rohan, and Bodhi all exchanged looks. They didn’t look angry, so that was good.
“A couple hours, at least,” Llyr said. His gaze shifted behind me, and I felt the bed dip as Ozzie scooted up beside me. He settled at my side, glancing between me and Llyr for a moment.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “There’s something you aren’t saying.” He fixed Llyr with a hard look. “And you aren’t sharing it up here, either,” he added, tapping his temple.
I swallowed a lump. “I left them unconscious last night before I came down here to be with you.”
“So? Losing consciousness after sex that mind-blowing isn’t exactly strange.” Ozzie said.
“No. It wasn’t from sex. I fought them to come to you. I hurt them.”
My voice cracked and I tore my gaze away from Llyr, darting it over the others. Pain lanced through my heart at the grim looks on their faces, tinged with worry, concern, and even a little fear.
Rohan’s expression changed to match what I felt, at least—shame and regret—and he was the first to break ranks and come toward me.
“Hey, baby, we survived,” he said, sitting on my opposite side and pulling me close. “We should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to stay away from him. Did you two . . . ah . . .” He tilted his chin toward Ozzie, who answered for me.
“Sorry, I guess lovemaking still isn’t in my vocabulary, but I don’t think she regrets it. At least I hope not.”
Ozzie’s worried frown made me reach out and grasp his hand. “I will never regret being with you. What I regret is hurting anyone else to make it happen.”
Turning back to Rohan, I reached up and brushed at the bloody streak marring his forehead. There was still a slight indentation that looked like it might have been a wound cutting across his left temple, but it had healed over and in the process of disappearing completely. Bodhi, however, sported a split lip and was cradling one arm against his chest.
Cursing softly, I went to him. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t get it, honestly,” Bodhi said. “You were fine for a while, and we thought we had everything handled. Then you changed again and flipped out when we tried to bind you. You were like a wild animal. Do you remember any of it?”
I brushed a thumb over his lip and leaned in. He recoiled at first, but relaxed when I braced a hand around the back of his neck and exhaled a short breath across his mouth. I commanded my smoke toward his wounded lip, healing it first, then exhaled more.
“Breathe,” I whispered. He relaxed further as he inhaled, and before I could pull back, he wrapped his good arm around me and pulled me in tight, pressing his mouth to mine with a low, desperate groan.
I didn’t think his sudden display was from sexual need, though. As he kissed me, I sensed it was mostly from relief and a simple need to touch me. I wrapped my arms around him, allowing him to guide our breath exchange and taking the time to push my magic through his arm and heal it.
He clung to me longer, lifting his hand to my face once his arm was healed. Within his breaths, I sensed every emotion, as if he didn’t have the words to articulate his feelings and hoped his breath would.
My turul powers may have been dulled without a soul, but they weren’t gone. I heard everything—or rather, I tasted everything as his breath crossed my tongue, and I gave back the same, counting on his own faint turul power to understand.
Finally Bodhi relaxed and released my mouth, resting his forehead against mine with a sigh. “I love you so much,” he said. His hands roamed over me as if he were reassuring himself that I was whole and real.
“I’m all right,” I said, confused by his reaction. I grasped Bodhi’s hand and looked at the others. “You guys can see that I’m all right, can’t you? You’re the ones I hurt, not the other way around.”
“We can’t keep doing this,” Llyr said. “We weren’t able to subdue you last night. Even after several rounds of sex, you still lashed out and broke free. You were too strong for any of us, even me at full primal shift, and you’re small for a nymph when she’s in her primal form.”
My memories of the night before were mostly a haze of tangled bodies and sensations, but I forced myself to focus on the clearest points. I hadn’t had much time to understand this new part of me—my nymphaea power was strong, but no stronger than any of the other pieces of my soul.
But my instincts had been amplified as well, which meant the fever must have been worse than before, my need for carnal fulfillment greater. The music and food still worked, and so did the sex, if I had enough of all of it. We didn’t have any of our dragon-infused food here, however, not to mention we didn’t have our preferred instruments, but I didn’t see how that should have mattered. Bodhi had been able to subdue me with a song when I’d first shifted after receiving my soul gift from Llyr.
The only difference now was that Ozzie was here
. And last night, he’d been singing.
My eyes widened as it clicked and I remembered the urge to come to him. I turned to look at him. His eyes were slightly glazed, his gaze lingering on my hips, then slipping up to my chest. The sheets covering his lap twitched, betraying his arousal.
“It was your fault,” I said.
He blinked at me. “How do you figure that? I was just an innocent bystander.”
Behind me, Keagan snorted. “Innocent, my furry ass. How many times did you fuck her last night?”
“Hey, man, she broke into my room and had her way with me. I was tied up the first time.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I said. “What matters is what you were doing when I showed up. You were singing. It was the song that called to me. I don’t think anything could have kept me from you as long as you were playing that song.”
“I’m a musician. It’s what I do,” he said with a frown. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
I glanced around for the guitar, eager to prove him wrong, but the instrument lay in splinters across the room. “Just sing it. Please,” I said.
He sat up straighter, a skeptical expression on his face, then shook his head. “Fine, if it’ll help . . .”
Taking a deep breath, Ozzie closed his eyes, then began to sing the lyrics that had affected me so profoundly I’d fought the others to reach him. Perhaps if they had been actively trying to subdue me and not simply make love to me, they could have maintained control, but they loved me, which meant they didn’t want to hurt me, which in turn put them at a disadvantage.
I felt the pull almost instantly, like a subtle pressure within my chest, a tightening combined with a spark of urgency to join in. And when he completed the chorus, I did just that. I knew this song well, at least half of it, and though I didn’t need to prove anything to him now, I sang it anyway. Completing it would ease my own mind, if nothing else.
Ozzie’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. I hoped I’d see a spark of something more there—that hearing the completed song would wake up whatever part of him had forgotten that he loved me—but as the final words faded, so did my optimism. His aura hadn’t changed; he only chuckled and shook his head.
“Thanks,” he said. “That song’s been eating at me all night. I couldn’t hear the second half to save my life. How did you do that?”
“It’s our mating song, Ozzie. It’s how turul know their true mates—the person who can complete the song is their One. I’m yours. Or I was, once.”
He rubbed his jaw, fingers rasping over his stubble. “Is it part of the Fate thing here? Because that’s not how turul work where I come from. We’re just really good at music, but we typically suck at relationships. I don’t think I know a single turul who hasn’t been through at least three mates. It never takes.”
“It was Fate,” I said. “Until we broke the curse, anyway. But the music still works. Your song called to me. It compelled me to come to you.”
“All right. I’ll take your word for it,” he said. He shot a look at Llyr as if to say, “Is she for real?”
Llyr crossed his arms. “She has a song for each of us. We all understand the feelings they provoke when she sings. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel something when she sang the other half to you.”
Ozzie sighed and raked his hands through his hair, then fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“Fine. Yeah. I felt something, but that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly fixed. I don’t know you—any of you. And I could lie to you and say that it’d just take time, that I just need to get to know you to love you, but I don’t believe that. I’ve never, to my recollection, loved anyone. Not even myself.”
His voice softened at the end and my heart ached. I crawled back onto the bed, slipping my arm across his chest as I pressed close to his side.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I still love you.”
His hand drifted down my back and back up again, but then he shifted away and I frowned.
“Sorry, honey. I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t deserve it. At least not yet.”
He sat up again and tugged me up with him. Looking into my eyes he added, “I want this . . . whatever this is.” He gestured between the six of us. “Sure, I imagine the sex with all of you is spectacular. I’d be happy with just you.” He cupped my cheek gently. “But I get that you are all a package deal. I must have been cool with that before. I wasn’t some jealous ass, was I? I mean, I’d have to have been open-minded enough to let you go along with hooking up with four other dudes and not commit murder. Even if I couldn’t have you myself.”
“You weren’t happy about it at first, but you knew I wanted a soul, so you didn’t stand in the way once I figured out this was how to have one,” I explained. “But I still need you, every bit as much as I need all of them.”
He nodded. “Right. And we need to make that happen, but as great as last night felt, and as much as I’d love to just live here and fuck all day, no amount of sex is going to magically make me love you. I need those memories back, if they really do exist.
“So I’d rather not draw this out if we don’t have to, because you can’t hide the hurt when you talk to me, and one thing I can feel is shame over having hurt you, even though I don’t understand why. I’d rather not feel that any more than necessary.”
I glanced at Rohan, who studied Ozzie with an intensity I’d never seen before. He must have sensed me looking because he turned to me, lips pressed together in a grim line.
“He isn’t lying about his feelings,” he said. “He doesn’t like hurting you, and he feels . . . tenderness. But not love. And . . .” His gaze shifted back to Ozzie, and mine followed. Ozzie shrugged.
“You may as well lay it all out for her, man,” Ozzie said. “Or I can . . .” He turned to me. “Desire. That’s the big one, isn’t it?” He looked at Rohan again, who nodded and smiled.
“I can’t read his actual thoughts, but I think he wants to be a part of this whether he loves us all or not, so that’s a start, right?” Rohan said.
Ozzie narrowed his eyes. “By ‘a part of it,’ I mean sharing her. I’m also still not feeling the love you guys seem to think I shared with you. That will remain untested for now, if it’s all the same.”
“Whatever you say, Maestro,” Keagan rumbled. “But if you change your mind . . .” He gave Ozzie a salacious grin and the other man snorted.
“So what’s the next step?” Ozzie asked. “Usually if you lose something, the best thing to do is retrace your steps. Should we try that?”
“The last place we were before losing you was with Fate. Have you heard from Sophia yet?” I asked, and Ozzie shook his head.
I sent a quick whisper out to Iszak and Lukas, who responded with a negative as well. Then I closed my eyes and focused on the hounds. They hadn’t returned, so I had to assume they were still looking, which would be odd—it had never taken them so long to find a specific target before. They would have at least nudged me in a direction by now.
But when I reached out, a cold weight settled in my belly. They simply weren’t there.
I clenched my eyes tighter, pushed my focus farther. I could sense the bloodline easily and glided over the familiar, shimmering web of their connected souls. The closest was Aella’s brilliant soul that was now bound to three of the four Winds. They’d been welcomed into the Haven and admitted to the Quorum with their brother. Adding their power to help govern the higher races would be valuable.
But the hounds that should have been even easier for me to touch with my mind had just vanished.
I opened my eyes. “They’re gone . . .”
“What do you mean, gone?” Bodhi asked.
“I mean I can’t find them. Something is seriously wrong.”
I whispered another panicked message to Iszak and Lukas.
“There’s more,” Iszak replied. “Let’s meet in the Quorum chambers. We’ll gather the others.”
“What is it?” Rohan asked, his ey
es wide.
“I think there’s more?” Bodhi said. “Did I hear that right?”
I blinked at him in surprise. “You heard that?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I heard something, but it didn’t sound hopeful. We’re meeting them downstairs, right?” He cast a brief look down my naked body as we headed toward the door, Keagan and Rohan falling into step behind us.
“Yes,” I said. “The hounds going missing is alarming enough, but Sophia disappearing is unusual. I don’t know what else they have to share, though.”
I exhaled a breath, clothing myself as we made our way down the stairs to the great hall and into the Quorum chambers. Not all the Quorum were present, but they hadn’t all been in attendance when we’d arrived. The ones who were in the Haven had all come, which worried me. If they were all here, then they considered this unnerving enough to convene.
I gravitated to Nikhil, instinctively seeking my father’s unwavering strength. He took me in his arms and hugged me. Then I looked at Iszak. “What is it?”
“We weren’t too concerned about not hearing from our grandmother. After the ordeal with Fate, she was due a rest, so we haven’t bothered her. She usually doesn’t stay away long since Layla and Sebestyan were born. But when we hadn’t heard from her, we reached out to Evie.” Iszak shot a worried look at his brother, then at Nikhil.
Nikhil looked down at me. “Evie isn’t responding, either. None of the turul we know on the outside are, either in the human world or in the Enclaves. It’s like they don’t exist.”
“That makes no sense. Where would they go?” I asked, my stomach tangled in knots. Had Fate done something to get even with us over the curse being broken? The divine entity that had tormented us had seemed so resigned at the end, but perhaps us retrieving Ozzie had made it angrier—angry enough to do something this drastic.
“They’re still there,” Boreas thundered, and his brothers nodded. “We would know if the turul disappeared. But they seem to have lost their voices. We intend to investigate as soon as we’ve discussed the matter among the Quorum.”
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