24
The Halálhívó and I glared at each other, neither of us saying anything. Cold cruelty was etched into his face, along with countless black tattoos. Yet a deadly fury ignited in his burgundy eyes. The intensity that radiated off him had only increased since he’d roughly dragged me into his personal tent. He was everything I’d expected from the descriptions given of him by Priestess Anara and the other Vezet?.
Izgath…
The thought of the male I’d been slowly opening up to during our time together speared me with an icy dagger of grief. He died because of me, because I didn’t just accept my fate the moment I killed Vagach.
Everyone I loved died.
The circle tattooed between my shoulderblades burned with as much hatred as I did. My fucking mate mark. How could the Fates make him my mate? How could they bind our tapestries together with no recourse to unravel it? What kind of sick, twisted joke had they determined to play on me?
Maybe the Reaper had cursed me after all.
I’d dreamed about having a mate that would empower me, give me autonomy, free me from the invisible shackles placed upon females in the Demon Realm. Instead, they gave me one of the males responsible for it all.
During my marriage to Vagach, my fury had barely been restrained; caging it now would be utterly impossible.
“What is your name?”
he finally growled, uncrossing his arms and shoving off the post where he’d been leaning. At least he had the decency to offer me clothing to cover myself, though my back still stung with the lashes from the whips. I hoped I was staining his tunic with my blood.
I scoffed, shoving my hair behind my ears and lifting my chin. “Why should I tell you? It’s clear that you don’t want me.”
His eyes flashed in a way that made my body go entirely still. “Little imposter, you have no idea what I want.”
“You’re the Halálhívó. You want to tie me to this bed, impregnate me, then ride off into battle and slaughter every Angel you come across. You’re not that complicated,”
I shot back. I shuffled myself around on his bed so my knees were tucked beneath me, ready to launch myself at him should the need arise. Then, I crossed my arms in a move of self preservation.
He raised a dark brow, crinkling the snake’s fang that stretched out onto his forehead. Then, his gravelly voice appeared in my mind. “I can force it out of your pretty little head, if that is the game you want to play.”
“I still don’t understand why you even want to know,”
I responded in kind, narrowing my eyes on him.
His expression remained as frigid and flat as his personality. “If I am going to have a weakness, I at least want to know its name.”
“It? I’m an it now?”
I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. “I guess I shouldn’t expect to be seen as a person by the likes of you. The Fates-chosen hero, along with the fucking Kral.”
“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,”
he snapped, taking a powerful step forward.
All fear bled from me as rage rose to protect me instead. I bared my teeth. “Sounds like you have more than one weakness, Halálhívó.”
He closed the remaining distance between us, shoulders heaving and neck muscles bulging beneath the tattoos that decorated them. He spit out his next words like one of the deadly cobras spitting its venom. “Make no mistake, little imposter. I am not a hero. I am undoubtedly a villain. And if I don’t scare you now, I will make it a point to do so.”
Down our newfound bond, the truth behind those words slammed into me, along with unfettered hatred. I blasted an equal wave in his direction. He was the reason my family was dead, Izgath was dead. He was the reason I had to submit to Vagach and why all I’d been told my entire life was that my only use, my only worth, came from my womb. Every ounce of rage I’d suppressed trying to be the demure female, trying to be Vagach, trying to be anything but me, ignited in my veins, white hot and ready to burn everything in its path.
And in that moment, the Halálhívó was in my line of fire.
“You’re right. You are the villain, and as much as you hate me, I hate you ten times over. Maybe I’ll take that nice sharp dagger strapped to your thigh and drive it into my heart just to spite you,”
I snarled, glaring up at him. Even on my knees on the bed, he still towered over me, broader by three and emanating enough fury to burn right along with me.
The growl that rumbled from his chest made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “And that, right there, is why I hate you. While I could withstand the pain of any injury you inflict upon yourself, your death would cripple me for weeks, at the very least. And I cannot have that.”
With lighting-fast speed, his hand whipped out and closed around my throat. With the barest bit of strength, he lifted me from the bed, cutting off my air as he did so. His face drifted closer to mine, lip curling back from his teeth with a snarl. The sharp points of his canines caught my attention, severe enough that I knew he could draw blood with a single sharp bite. “The Kral could be captured and tortured in front of me for all I care. The war can continue without him. That is why you are my weakness. My only weakness. Because you are a liability.”
He threw me backward, and I gasped as air flooded my lungs again. “If it wouldn’t debilitate me to do so, I’d kill you myself.”
Tears pricked at my eyes as I glared at the Halálhívó, my fucking mate. I must have done something outlandish in a past life for the Weaver and the Reaper to offer this one to me, shuffling from one abusive male to another.
“Not if I kill you first,”
I threatened, shoving myself upright again. I wasn’t going to stay down and let him overpower me. I’d learned how to fight over these past weeks, and I refused to be a victim at the hands of another male.
He sneered at me, then yanked a dagger from his thigh. Flipping it around, he offered it to me, hilt first. “Do it.”
I looked at him, then at the blade.
“Come on, little imposter. Are you afraid? Or maybe,”
he grasped my wrist and yanked me forward, “you need to be shown how to do it.”
Squeezing my forearm, he forced my fist to open, then shoved the blade into it. Curling his hand around my own, he closed my fingers, then used his leverage to drag me closer. He only stopped when the tip of the blade dug into his muscled chest. “All you have to do is push.”
A bud of ruby bloomed on his heavily inked skin. Yet he didn’t flinch, didn’t look down. Didn’t even register the bite of pain that nipped down our bond.
My hands trembled.
“You’re insane,”
I spit. The place where our flesh touched was fire, and the thick, invisible noose tying us together burned with desire. Heat pooled between my bare thighs, and I hated myself for my body’s reaction.
This is so fucked up.
“I’m not the one who promised to kill you, then balked at the opportunity to do so,”
he growled, throwing me and the knife away. It bounced out of my hand and disappeared among the blankets on the bed. Sweeping my hair out of my face, my attention snagged on the thick outline in his tight pants.
Smirking, I returned to my previous position, like an animal that wouldn’t quit fighting until its opponent delivered the killing blow. It was my turn to take control of the situation. Without warning, I closed my hand over his hardness and squeezed. “I know what it’s like to kill a male. How do you think I got here in the first place? Vagach was no saint. He deserved to be buried in the ground for what he did to me.”
If a fire had burned between us before, an inferno whorled into a frenzy after those words. The Halálhívó grasped my wrist, yanking it away from his body and twisting my arm so I was at his mercy again. “And what exactly did he do to you?”
With the utter death in his burgundy eyes, I suspected that this was the true, lethal killer that everyone so adored. So I told him, figuring he’d relish every cruel deed done to me by my dead husband. They appeared to be one and the same, after all, though maybe the Halálhívó was worse. I’d barely been mated to him for half an hour. He had plenty of time to unleash the evil within.
“He beat me for failing to bear his children. For not being ready for our coupling when he returned home. For any number of infractions, real or imagined, just because he was drunk. And oh how he liked to drink.”
I tipped my head back and released a manic laugh. “I wanted to die every day. It would have been more peaceful than the life I lived. Maybe in my next life, I’ll find a love worth living for. You certainly aren’t it.”
A muscle ticked in his stubble-coated jaw, and he released my wrist, taking three steps away. “If he weren’t already dead, I’d slaughter him myself. In fact, I might find his body and call him so I can do it all over again.”
The growl that accompanied his words made me want to tremble, the depth of violence in them undeniable. Yet, his declaration surprised me.
Why would he want to protect me rather than hurt me?
To cover the flicker of confusion, I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why? You said so yourself that you’re not a hero.”
“You’re right,”
he said slowly, letting each word drop like a stone plopped into a glassy lake.
This time, I allowed the shiver to tumble down my spine.
“I still don’t understand why you care.”
I sat back on my heels, waiting for a response. The tension had cooled between us, and my earlier ferocity didn’t feel right after the Halálhívó made an effort to put space between us.
He glanced down at his chest, then to mine, where my magic flared to life, including this newfound connection to Keleti’s most dangerous male. “Mate bond. The thought of someone hurting you already drives me insane, despite my overwhelming desire to shove my cock in your mouth to shut you the fuck up.”
“I would bite it off,”
I snapped, an ember of my earlier fire returning.
“I have no doubt that you would try,”
he replied, his tone threaded with something bitter. “But a good leader knows when to accept a situation rather than fight against it, and right now, little imposter, that is what I am trying to do.”
He stepped forward again, leaning over to brace his fists on the bed. Then he lifted his head, burgundy eyes locking onto mine. “So, are you going to tell me your name?”
I studied him for a moment, from the tattoos of three crows on his scalp to the rose-covered vines and skulls sweeping down his arms. Ink curled around his hands, forming his honorific. Then, I returned to his face, noting the slight curve to his nose, the heavy set of his brow bone, the chunk missing from one of his ears. But those eyes, a shade as unique as my own, held something there, a riotous fire that spoke to me on a level that surpassed all reason.
So, finally, I surrendered my name.
“Assyria.”
“Assyria,”
he repeated, my name rolling over his gravelly voice. “I am Rokath.”
I’d only ever heard him referred to as the Halálhívó—from Vagach, Priestess Anara, the other soldiers.
Did anyone actually know his name?
“Most don’t,”
Rokath growled, clearly having read my mind through our newfound connection. “And I prefer to keep it that way.”
More than a hint of threat hung in the air, and I understood what he meant: I wasn’t to speak it in front of others.
Yet he’d given me something so intimate, so personal, so sacred. A tempest of emotion swirled inside me.
“So what are you going to do with me, Rokath?”
I asked, sighing and dropping my arms to my sides.
Those heavy brows dipped for a moment as he mulled over his next words. Then, he blew out a breath equally as long as my own. “I will allow you to sleep here for the night. The hour is too late to trek to Gyor Palace.”
“That didn’t answer my question,”
I stated, resisting the urge to twine my fingers in these blankets and scrunch.
He straightened, carrying that powerful presence with him. “I know.”
From the floor, he grabbed a tunic and shrugged it on, buttoning it up with practiced precision. The tattoos I’d merely glimpsed disappeared along with the torso sculpted from the very stones of the Skala Mountains. “A guard will be stationed outside to ensure you are protected and do not leave. No one will come in or out of this tent except for me.”
“And if they do?”
I asked, cocking my head to the side.
“If they do, you know how to kill them,”
he shrugged, and even the fabric couldn’t hide the way the movement sent ripples across his thick muscles. “If they do, then I will know through our bond that you are in danger, and I will kill him myself if you do not accomplish the task.”
“And if I try to leave?”
I said, lifting my chin.
He looked pointedly at my attire. “I would hope you aren’t stupid enough to try wearing that. But if you are,”
he was on top of me in a heartbeat, pinning me beneath him on the bed. My breath hitched as he dropped his lips to my ear. “I will always be able to find you, mate. So run, if you want. I do so love a good chase.”
And with that, he shoved off the bed, sweeping from the tent without so much as a backward glance.
Heart pounding, I lay there, trying to come to terms with everything that happened in the span of a day—not even that. Mere hours. They continued to drag on as my mind whirled faster than a windstorm on the plains south of Stryi.
Soon, the candles on the bedside table bled down their stems, pooling on the polished wood beneath them. Like the melting wax, tears burned my eyes and overflowed, dripping on the blanket beneath my cheek as my emotions slammed into me and stole my breath.
The force of my sobs shifted me, and something sharp dug into my shoulder. Shuffling around, I yanked the discarded dagger free. The bronze blade glinted in the light, though the harsh edges blurred through my watery eyes.
In the span of a dozen heartbeats, my entire life flashed before my eyes. All the pain, all the suffering, all the loss. The weapon grew heavy in my palm. I’d never been more tempted than in that moment to plunge it into my heart and end it all.
Yet glimmers of joy slipped through, almost as if the Weaver had entered my mind and shaken out the tapestry of my life, only highlighting the greatest moments. More tears leaked from me as my sister’s bright, joyous face flashed by.
She wouldn’t want this for me.
So I flung the dagger, not caring that it smacked into something on the other side of this tent. Then, I curled in on myself and wept for everyone and everything I had lost.