Destruction’s Desire (Broken Souls Trilogy #2)

Chapter 1

Rule one: Always be aware of your surroundings.

S ome things get old very quickly.

Take waking up in strange places, for instance. That shit got old three wake-ups ago.

A rush of adrenaline surges through me the moment I open my eyes, obliterating the usual sleep haze that clings to me when I wake.

This isn’t my room.

The stones that line the walls are a dark and polished gray, their smooth sides reflecting the sunlight that shines through a single window next to my bed. I frown, trying to find any sign of familiarity, but much to my consternation, the room is rather lacking in personal touches. Other than a wooden chest at the end of the bed and a green upholstered chair to my right, it’s bare.

Even without more to go off, I already know this isn’t Leon’s castle. The walls don’t match .

I don’t know this place.

My heart rate picks up, and I take a deep inhale, willing my pulse to calm down.

There’s no reason to panic. At this point, I should just assume I’ll be in unfamiliar territory every time I wake up. It’s not ideal, but at least I woke up on a bed. That’s a step up from waking up on grass.

Rubbing at my temples, I try to piece my life back together. It’s been difficult to remember things ever since I woke Leon. I’m assuming that’s yet another disturbing side effect of the bond.

But to my surprise, the memories are quick to come flooding back.

Leon trying to use our bond to get me to unlock his collar, his hands all over me, my refusing to free him, and the fight that ensued.

My breathing picks up as the memories flash by. Whether it’s from fear, anxiety, or both, I’m not sure. But my final waking memory is the one that just about stops my heart.

An unfamiliar voice and being grabbed from behind.

My first instinct is to crawl back under the blankets and pretend none of this ever happened. Maybe if I fall back asleep, I’ll wake up and learn this has all been a nightmare.

But as tempting as that course of action may be, I resist the urge. Not because of some ill-fated attempt at bravery, but rather because of sheer stubbornness.

I made a goal to be more aware of my surroundings, and I’m damn well going to stick to it .

Considering I’ve already managed to be transported to a new place without any idea where I am, I’m failing miserably at my goal.

I need to do better.

Think, Vivian, use your damn head.

My head really hurts.

Taking another deep inhale, I try to stop the throbbing directly behind my eyes.

I can do this.

When faced with big problems, it’s best to take things one step at a time and break down seemingly impossible tasks into smaller, more manageable goals.

Did I learn that habit from a day planner?

Yes.

But I think the strategy holds up.

Another breath, and I start to break down my problems. First, I’ve been magically bonded to a potentially dangerous man. Second, an even more dangerous man might try to blow up the universe. And finally, third, I’ve possibly been kidnapped by a strange man.

I’m starting to see a pattern emerge. Are men the root of all my problems?

I should have stuck to reading about them. Men written by women are much less of a hazard.

Focus, Vivian.

Alright, one problem at a time. My first and most pressing problem is my possible kidnap predicament.

I mull the word around in my mind.

Kidnap.

It should be enough to terrify me. I have enough hours logged watching true crime specials to have a very good idea of how badly kidnappings can go. But logistically speaking, there’s no way.

I have an all-too-recent memory of what happens when Leon and I are apart. When he left me to go see Need, the distance between us resulted in excruciating pain on my end. Given the absence of agony ripping through my body, Leon must be close by. If I had to take a guess, this must be the Council’s castle.

Why do neither of those thoughts help to ease my anxiety?

A chill runs down my spine at the thought that Leon could enter this room at any moment.

The last time I saw him, Leon was out of control. He was furious when I refused to give in to his demands. Namely, he wants me to unlock his collar so he can potentially kill my entire town in a battle with another all-powerful Destroyer. Oh, and not to mention, he’s also demanding my love, my blind obedience, and quite possibly, my womb.

Can’t forget those little tidbits.

A haze of despair curls around my throat, its icy grip trying to steal away my breath.

One step at a time, Vivian. Focus on what you can control.

The idea that I have any control is laughable, considering my life has been commandeered by all-powerful supernatural creatures. I’m pretty sure I’d have more control over a natural disaster.

At least you can take shelter from a tornado. But a Destroyer who can un-exist your realm with a single thought? That probably isn’t covered by bunkers .

Silently slipping out of bed, I’m distracted by my full bladder and focus on finding a bathroom.

Small goals.

There are two doors on the other side of the room, and while one is closed, the other is slightly ajar.

Tiptoeing across the worn wooden floors, I cringe when one of the floorboards creaks.

Still not a super spy.

Shame.

I’d like to think some lessons are so painful, you only need to learn them once. When I was kidnapped by my classmates, I realized that it’s better for dangerous people to think you’re asleep for as long as possible.

Of course, even with that piece of wisdom, I manage to stub my toe on a loose floorboard and let out a small expletive.

At the sound, I freeze, wincing at the pain in my toe and the noise I just made. I wait three breaths, listening for any sign of life outside my room. But nothing happens.

I’m counting that as a silver lining.

Luckily, my suspicions are correct, and there’s a small ensuite bathroom behind the open door. I don’t hesitate to close it and lock it behind me.

The state of the bathroom reinforces my suspicion that I’m no longer in Leon’s castle. Leon’s place had chamber pots, whereas this bathroom almost looks like it’s come out of the human realm. There’s a toilet, a black marble sink, and a walk-in shower made from shining black tile. I can almost pretend I’m visiting a resort back in my own realm. I just need to ignore the small orbs of light floating above my head .

A few moments later, I happen to catch sight of myself in the large mirror that hangs over the bathroom sink. The sight that stares back at me looks eerily similar to what I saw after my classmates attacked me. My eyes are sunken in, and there are dark smudges underneath them. One of my arms is a myriad of purple and blue bruises, and I can distinctly make out the shapes of Leon’s fingers. My other arm is bandaged, but more blue marks are peeking over the edges.

At least Leon had the decency to patch me up after he hurt me.

The thought has my stomach twisting.

How am I going to get away from this man?

Death.

He said the only way to break the bond is through death.

I’m no expert, but I think I might be in a toxic relationship.

The haze of despair grows larger, and I can feel it winding more tightly around my throat. It’s suffocating.

There’s no air.

My hands clamp down on the edges of the sink, and I can feel a panic attack coming on.

Fighting the urge to hyperventilate, I force myself to take deep belly breaths. Panic attacks are nothing new, not after that night in the woods. I’ve had years to find a strategy that can stop them.

Rather than letting the fear paralyze me, I focus on compartmentalizing it. I shove the emotion into a box in my head specifically reserved for repressed feelings. Once the fear is locked away, I can’t feel it .

My breathing starts to slow, and the clawing sensation around my throat subsides.

I don’t have the luxury of letting myself fall apart right now. It’s like the saying, ‘There’s a time and place for everything.’

If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve never found the time or place to have an emotional breakdown. I’m hell-bent on keeping my depression in remission. I can’t even imagine what opening those emotional boxes would do to that goal.

That’s a definite ‘no thank you’ from me.

Only after the attack has fully ceased do I notice I’m not in my own clothes. Instead, I’m wearing a pair of gray leggings and a black T-shirt that’s far too big for me. I stare at them, dumbfounded, until I remember that my clothes are probably still strewn around the broken table shards in Leon’s castle.

I guess I didn’t think to put them back on when I was crawling on the floor, gasping through blinding pain.

My body gives an unconscious shiver. It’s both from the thought of Leon and the violation that someone dressed my unconscious body.

Swallowing, I shove those thoughts down.

If I ever do decide to try and process my trauma, I’m going to need ice cream. I have a sneaking suspicion that guided meditation won’t cut it if that day ever comes. But if I want to survive long enough to make it back to the land of frozen treats, I need to be smart and find a way to escape Leon.

Because I will be free again.

Giving myself a stern look, I mutter what I hope will be the pep talk of the century, “Suck it up, Vivian. No one is coming to save you. If you fall apart, your loved ones die. Now. Get. It. Together.”

I make a mental note to look into a career writing motivational quotes as I step back into my room.

Only, it isn’t empty anymore. A man is leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

I freeze.

He’s tall, at least a head and a half taller than me, and huge. Not just in height, but in bulk. The man looks like a warlord. His dark brown hair falls just past his shoulders, and he has a short but somewhat scruffy beard. His skin is a deep bronze, reflecting hours spent outside. I think he might be in his early thirties, but it’s hard to tell with immortals.

I’m not staring. I’m taking in my surroundings.

Assessing.

Goals are serious business.

Do I assess his muscular arms crossed in front of him and the intricate knotwork of tattoos that interlace over them?

Of course.

But that’s okay because I haven’t one hundred percent ruled out that I might be a kidnap victim.

I need to pay attention to details, just in case. I’m positive I heard a survivor on a true crime special say that once.

Besides, he’s the one who came into my room without knocking. He’s the creepy one. Not me.

At my silence, the intruder cocks an eyebrow at me. His eyes are a piercing light gray, almost blue. They contrast his snug-fitting black T-shirt that definitely doesn’t show off his chest muscles .

“About done?” he asks.

I swallow, trying not to let my cheeks heat.

His voice is low and gravelly. I can appreciate that. Not that I’m in the market for any more supernatural love interests. I already have my hands full trying to handle one large, scary, tattooed man.

More importantly, I recognize his voice. This is the man who grabbed me from outside Leon’s castle. The recognition cuts my ogling short, and I glare at him. “Who are you, and where am I?”

If the stranger is put off by my directness, he gives no indication of it. He stays on his side of the room, looking relaxed. But there’s a barely concealed tension rippling through his body. I have no doubt that if I were to try and run right now, this man would pounce.

Yet again, someone is looking at me like I’m the prey.

I don’t like that for me.

“You’re in Morgana’s castle,” he answers before pausing, as if gauging my reaction.

My brain short-circuits. Why the hell would Leon bring me to Morgana’s castle?

The answer is simple - he wouldn’t. Clearly, the stranger is lying to me. But why?

He doesn’t embellish his answer, and stands there, assessing me right back.

A new theory starts to form in my mind. Maybe the Council is trying to trick me. Maybe this is some kind of pseudo-kidnapping loyalty test.

That sounds like a very councily move.

I keep my voice level as I answer him, “Nice try. Where is Leon? ”

Don’t give them an ounce of emotion.

If this is a test, then I need to pass. I can’t give the Council any more reason to suspect I’m anything other than a regular human. I just know things will go from bad to worse if Need finds out about my ghost powers.

The stranger’s calm facade falters, and a flicker of disgust ghosts across his expression. “Leon is back in the Otherworld. You’re in the Shadow Realm now.”

The look of disgust is unsurprising. I already know people in the Otherworld hate Leon after he tainted his Creator powers and was demoted to a Destroyer.

The stranger is back to looking bored now. Maybe doing Council loyalty tests is his daily job. Maybe I’m the seventh person he’s tried to trick today. I can see how that would get boring.

“That’s impossible,” I deadpan. “I’d feel it in our bond.”

He smirks, and it’s spiteful. “The bond between Keepers and Destroyers is strong. But not strong enough to pass through different realms. Leon can’t enter the Shadow Realm.”

He practically spits Leon’s name.

I frown at his response. If I’m wrong and this man is telling the truth, then I’ve actually been kidnapped.

By the enemy.

Is that even possible?

My mind reels, looking for some thread of logic.

Was I still within the protective wards when I was in the water outside of Leon’s castle?

The blood drains from my face. I was with Leon when he made the wards. He never entered the water. More obviously, there was a forsaken spirit in the water with me.

I left the wards. I left myself unprotected.

The stranger rolls his eyes before adding, “If we wanted you dead, you’d already be rotting back in Leon’s pond.”

Is that supposed to make me feel safe?

I can think of a lot of things that are worse than death.

A heartbeat passes, and I school my expression back to one that looks brave. I can’t afford to show any more fear than I already have.

“Who. Are. You?” I ask again, putting force behind each word.

The stranger’s jaw works, like he’s debating whether to answer my question. His gaze locks on mine, and I swear I see a challenge. I hope my own looks defiant.

Another slight smirk, and he finally answers, “My name is Sin.”