Between Imminent Fates (The Immortal Accords #12)

13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Isaiah

The sun rose over the desert. Soft morning rays warmed his skin as Isaiah surveyed his territory from his roof. He’d come to enjoy the occasional visit from his people here, opting to use the sunrise as informal office hours.

Nocturnal animals had retreated to the coolness of their underground dens, while birds had just begun to sing. Mornings in the desert were one of a kind, and he had always appreciated them for what they were: hopeful.

But hope had been fleeting in recent weeks.

Shifting on his feet, he cupped a hand across his forehead, pinching his temples. He was running on fumes. He’d seldom experienced its like in his immortal life. Every spare moment he had was spent seeking something he couldn’t disclose.

It made him irritable and leeched the strength right out of him. Fortunately, his efforts had proven successful in one area. With any luck, his attempts today would shed light on the matter.

Deep within him, fear had begun to eat away at him. If he failed, all would be lost. The lives of the many depended on the efforts of the few, and uncertainty had crept up around his neck like a noose. He had no way of knowing whether Key’s plans would come to fruition. Fear of the fallout, one way or the other, was unrelenting.

Key had requested Derikles’ presence moving forward, but to Isaiah’s knowledge, she’d yet to meet with his second. Perhaps it was better that way.

As if he’d conjured him with his thoughts, the lieutenant strolled up the stairs at a leisurely pace. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, his sleeve tattoos prominently visible, the younger Raeth could fool anyone into believing he was a relaxed rock star on his day off.

“Sovereign.”

“Derikles.”

Both stood silently, watching as the shadows shortened and the sun rose higher in the sky. Delving into the network, Isaiah gently began to awaken the groundwork for the temporary shift.

“What has Key asked of you, sovereign?”

The question caught him off guard. When Isaiah glanced over, he found his lieutenant’s attention fully centered on him. Perceptive to a fault, there was a reason Derikles was his second, and the man he trusted above any other.

Regardless, he couldn’t reveal the answer. “My task will remain a secret until the end. I’m certain Key will give you your marching orders soon, if she hasn’t already.”

A nod. “She has, but mine begin after we’ve won.”

Isaiah gifted him a rueful chuckle. “Certain, are you?”

“Are you not?”

The assuredness he heard in the other Raeth’s answer made Isaiah soften. “There are too many variables to claim victory yet. I won’t count it a win until we’ve seen it through.”

“Rather fatalistic, don’t you think?” Derikles rolled his shoulders as if to ward off Isaiah’s pessimism. “Have faith, sovereign. Key’s been working toward this end for centuries.”

Chuckling genuinely for the first time in ages, Isaiah merely shook his head. He dove back into the neural web that connected his clan together. Each unique link was reinforced in preparation, iced in a psychic neutralizing agent to ensure no one but Derikles noticed the change. There would be no hiding the experiment from the other man.

And then Isaiah made his move.

The effect on Derikles was immediate. Flinching, the other Raeth gasped and staggered on his feet before turning wide eyes to Isaiah. The influx of psychic connections erupted brilliantly between them, swelling in Derikles’ mind the way it’d always bloomed in his.

Confusion drummed through the clan bond between them, but Isaiah couldn’t concentrate on the other man’s emotions. As the framework held and the foundation solidified, he retreated. While the shift was incomplete—and would remain that way—it offered him the insight and clarity he required.

It would be successful should he complete the exchange.

“What—what are you doing?”

Derikles was a mix of roiling emotions, but for once, the man’s naivety was a plus. Isaiah didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he opted to psychically shift the connections back into place in his own mind. Derikles’ entire body radiated tension, and it didn’t dissipate even when all had been returned to its former station.

“A test. Nothing more.”

The other Raeth didn’t buy the lie. If anything, the flippant answer only made him more suspicious. Reticence shadowed Derikles’ features with deep concern for what’d taken place.

“A test for what? That—that felt like—”

“Nothing of consequence.” The lie tasted bitter on Isaiah’s tongue. “Don’t read into it, Derikles.”

Tearing his eyes away from a still-alarmed man, he attempted to rid himself of the guilt by surveying the domain that’d been his for centuries. Utah, with its dry heat and open spaces, would always be home. Here, Isaiah could allow himself to simply be .

“Sovereign.” Derikles bared his teeth. “ Isaiah . Tell me what’s going on. There’s no way that was ‘nothing of consequence.’”

Isaiah smirked at the brazen tone. “I’m four hundred years your senior, and I could literally turn you to dust. What part of that makes you believe I’ll disclose anything I don’t want to?”

“None of it.” Derikles shrugged, his tone defeated. “But how about as my brother?”

Face falling, Isaiah studied him. Though they shared no blood, the sentiment was true regardless. They had been as good as kin throughout the years, even when Isaiah had steadfastly refused to admit it. The man beside him was a warrior, and an honorable one at that.

It made what Isaiah would do to him even more shameful.

“I’ve been advised to hold my tongue with relation to my tasks.” An excuse if Isaiah had ever heard one. “I can’t disclose the nature of the test to you any more than Key could.”

“Does the foreseer hold such power over you?”

Isaiah opted for truth—the one truth he could afford the other Raeth. “Key holds power over all of us, and you’d do well to respect it. We have to trust her. Discard your reservations, and swiftly. The knowledge she holds, the plans she’s crafted: she’s our only hope.”

Derikles left not long after. He’d been shaken by Isaiah’s experiment, that much was apparent. It was as though the very foundation he’d stood upon had been compromised.

Isaiah didn’t blame him. Having lived through something similar with his former sovereign, he knew that Derikles had a right to be disturbed.

Sparing one final glance toward the rising sun as it began to warm the desert air, he strode down the stairs and into his home. Isaak, his one-and-a-half-year-old son, came teetering up to him on wobbly legs.

“Dada!”

Isaiah scooped up the giggling toddler and slung him over his shoulder. Chubby feet kicked at him, chorused by riotous laughter. “Little troublemaker. Where’s your mom?”

“Making breakfast,” came her disgruntled voice from the kitchen.

“That’s dangerous: Rukia in the kitchen, attempting to cook.” Walking into the gallery, he raised an eyebrow at his flustered mate. “What’ve you burned so far?”

“Only two Pop-Tarts.”

Feigning a gag, Isaiah handed his mate their wiggly son and grabbed a pan from above the island. “Scrambled eggs or French toast, Isaak?”

“Waffs,” came the barely discernable response.

“You had waffles for dinner last night.”

Despite his comment, Isaiah was already grabbing the waffle iron under the island, proving he truly had no say. Jaeda knocked once on their door before entering, her eager eyes on the toddler in Rukia’s arms.

“Playtime!”

Behind him, Rukia happily set Isaak down for the healer, and Jaeda enfolded his little hands in hers to walk him into the living room to play. When Rukia followed them both out of the kitchen, Isaiah’s shoulders slumped.

Maintaining the facade that everything was going smoothly was mind-numbingly exhausting. When Key had disclosed his own part to play in the trials to come, Isaiah had swiftly reinforced the one-way valve between him and his clan. Along with blocking out his building fear, it ensured none of them sensed the truth.

Isaiah was struggling. A deep sense of dread had eclipsed the joy his life had formerly brought. If he failed in his task—if any of them failed—the result would destroy them all.

His hands worked on autopilot as he prepared Rukia and Isaak’s breakfast. Unlike his Elemental mate and his youngling, he could go for days or weeks without eating. Unless he utilized an immense amount of energy or required healing in one form or another, he didn’t require sustenance.

“Isaiah?”

Rukia’s call captured his attention. His mate almost never used his given name, preferring Sparky or a similar pet name. Glancing at her over his shoulder, he raised an eyebrow in question.

Cheekily, she sauntered into the kitchen and bumped her hip against his. “What’s twisted your mind in such knots that you’re deaf to your own nickname?”

“Selective hearing.”

Her grunt told him she didn’t believe him. “When’s my waffle gonna be done?”

“Poor Elemental, withering away from hunger.” Clucking his tongue, some of his melancholy dissolved. “It’s such a shame you now have to wait for your son’s waffle to be done first.”

“I was spoiled far before our son came into the picture.” Taking a step into him, her hands snaked around him while she rested her head against his back. “You’re tired.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Liar. I know you are, Isaiah, I can feel it through our bond. But what I don’t know is why. Talk to me.”

Appearing beside him, Rukia jumped up on the counter and crossed her legs while she peered down at him with an astute stare. For a long moment, Isaiah simply looked at her.

Rukia was everything he’d ever wanted in a mate. When they’d bonded, he found a piece of his own soul in hers, a part of him he hadn’t even known was missing. The water Elemental was perfect in every aspect: her fierce nature, her tenacity, and her uncommon devotion to him and their son that never ceased to amaze him.

A chime signaled the waffle was done, and he dragged her eyes away from her to flip it onto a plate. Rukia saw it for what it was: a way to hide. Her fingers darted out to catch his as he made a move to remove it from the waffle iron.

“ Isaiah .”

“The waffle, Ruk.”

She squeezed his fingers. “I don’t care about the damn waffle.”

But as soon as she released him, he retrieved the pastry from the iron, tossing it onto a plate and presenting it to Rukia as a way to win her over. For a moment, she just leered at him, the intensity in those near-black irises escalating.

Isaiah was being a coward.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even talk to her about what plagued him. He couldn’t tell the love of his life why he’d spiraled so far from happiness.

The only person he could speak to about it—other than Key—was Nina. Given their previous history, they’d had to be selective about how and when they spoke.

The dishonesty burned inside him, charring everything that’d once made him honorable.

Rukia grabbed the plate from his hand, and it clattered onto the countertop, discarded and forgotten. Over her shoulder, she called, “Jaeda, can you look after Isaak while I steal away your sovereign? His waffle is here on the counter.”

“Yes! Go!”

His mate was immediately smug. “Come on, Sparky, we’re going on a date.”

One ebony eyebrow rose in challenge. “To where, may I ask?”

“Plitvice Waterfalls in Croatia.”

Isaiah sent her a dry look as she leapt from the counter and possessively locked her arms around him. “Croatia? I’ve never been there.”

“You mean to tell me that the big, intimidating Raeth sovereign of the Sylth can’t go somewhere he hasn’t already visited?” Her scathing laugh was full of mockery. “I’ve been there. Pull it from my head.”

“You want me to dive into your head? Treacherous waters, Rukia.”

But already he was salivating for some alone time with his mate. He locked onto the memory she was practically screaming at him and teleported them both directly to Croatia.

While he’d intentionally landed them on an abandoned area of dry land beside the falls, there were few humans around to spot them. This late in the afternoon, it was still hovering around fifty-five degrees, a slight chill in the air.

Neither of them would be bothered by the intemperate weather, even when wet. Grabbing his hand, Rukia tugged him along behind her as she eagerly trotted toward the section of upper terraces.

“Come on, we’re going to my favorite place.”

The Falls were truly breathtaking. Lush green vegetation sprouted from cracks in the pale sand-colored and dusty red cliffs. Water spilled over the walls in multiple outlets, cascading downward and into the ponds below with a roar of sound.

As Rukia towed him along, she stripped off her shirt, revealing the navy polka dot bikini underneath. Desire, latent until then, heated his blood while he chuckled.

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Of course I planned it,” she retorted. “You’re a bit dense for a twelve-hundred-year-old immortal.”

Tugging him up a weathered staircase, Rukia loosened her hold on him to step out of her shorts. Then, she motioned for him to do the same. He stripped off his shirt and stepped out of his shoes, tucking them into a nook alongside hers.

With a single jump, Rukia vaulted off the stone and into the water below. She surfaced, and one look dared him to do the same. He swiftly followed her into the frigid pond.

Her body gracefully flowed over and through the water, gliding without effort as he kicked lazily to propel himself after her.

“Come on, slow poke. I’ve got something to show you.”

Water parted around his lazy strokes. He was in no hurry. Being here with his mate was enough to partially take his mind off what was to come. Escaping from the uncertainty of the future, even for a moment, was welcomed.

Ahead, Rukia disappeared beneath a nearby waterfall, the cascade concealing what lay beyond. His eyebrows pulled together, and his legs scissored faster through the water to discover where his mate had gone.

He swam through the waterfall, the weight of it pounding into his head, shoulders, and back as he emerged on the other side where his mate was treading water. Slippery wet rocks bracketed each side of them once they put the cascade behind them. Though the water wasn’t exceptionally deep, neither of them could quite touch the bottom.

Nearly shouting over the roar of water, Isaiah said, “I’m here. What are you other two wishes?”

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on, Sparky.”

“Rukia—”

“No.” The adamant command was hardened by her look. “Knock it off. You’ll tell me why you’re barely sleeping. Why you’ve closed yourself off. Why your smiles are fake, even when Isaak is being adorable, and why you’ve lost interest in playing your violin.”

She’d noticed , Isaiah thought. Of course she had.

Expelling a heavy breath, he stiffened when Rukia’s hands came around him and she whispered in his ear. “I’ve got you. Just rest for a moment.”

So he did.

Letting his limbs go limp, he set his forehead on her shoulder and closed his eyes. The chill of the water frothed along his skin where he was buoyed by Rukia’s arms. It was a sensual caress now, and he was certain that was her doing.

His mate was always taking care of him, regardless of his failures. “What Key’s given me, what I’m to do: it’s taken a toll.”

“And you can’t share it with me?”

Beneath the waters that pooled around them, Isaiah’s arms linked around her waist. “No. I can’t. I want for nothing more than to be able to tell you, but I just—I can’t.”

Exhaustion beat at the door to his mind, throbbing between his temples. Had they not been neck deep in water, he’d have eagerly fallen asleep in her embrace.

Instead, he told her the only thing he could. “Key has assured me you and Isaak will live if everything goes to plan.”

“Is that all you care about?”

“Of course that’s all I care about,” Isaiah scoffed, his arms shooting out to tread water once more and rear back to study her features. “Nothing else matters—only you and Isaak.”

“And your clan?”

“Our clan will prosper regardless.”

As Rukia’s distaste for his reply mounted, the waters began to churn around them in response to her gift. A tribute to her skill, the element absently reacted to her emotions.

“You’re right,” came her snide answer. “Without you, my clan will prosper because I totally wear the pants in this relationship.”

A spark of lust followed her cheeky comment, swallowing his earlier fragility. “I can think of something else to do with your pants. You better watch your six.”

“Oh, I’m shaking in my rain boots,” she mocked. “The big, bad, scary Raeth is threatening me. Someone save me!”

“Nobody saves you but me.”

Isaiah captured her lips with a possessive kiss, silencing whatever sarcasm was about to make an appearance. Fire drummed between them as she responded eagerly, her fingernails biting into the hard muscle of his back. Her legs locked around his waist, securing together behind his back as she explored his kiss.

Their mating bond flared with passion, desire flaming through their link and compounding with every sensation they shared. Isaiah clutched her to him, desperate, and cherished every moment he spent in her company.

Isaiah belonged to her and always would.