The Prince’s Mate (Fate’s Gambit)

One

Walker

After the battle with Meredith had ended, things had settled down in Otherworld. There had been some brief trouble with a few dark souls who had managed to escape with a demon’s help, but the demons my dads had stationed in the human realm had helped capture them all. As a reward for their help, my dads had extended the contracts of all the demons, giving them the freedom to live in the human realm as long as they kept the secret and did whatever they could to keep the humans around them safe.

Now, fifteen years after the battle, everything was peaceful in Otherworld. There had been no more incidents at the Burning Chasm since, and Kym’s fire—a fire that purified instead of punished—burned as bright as ever inside it. Harlan and Wren—the two warlocks who lived in Otherworld—had finally figured out a way to keep the fire going even if Kym decided to move on to Afterworld, not that he was planning to do so anytime soon. Mated to the fiercest warrior of Otherworld, Kym was a cheerful kitsune-human tattooist who loved living in Otherworld almost as much as me,

“These journals would be worth a lot of money if they ended up in the human realm,” Ro’Shassz hissed from where he was wrapped around the curtain rod. When I was a kid, I’d spent every waking moment with the snake wrapped around my neck. He’d been my security blanket, and sometimes, he still was, though I’d gotten a lot better at not needing him around 24/7.

“Are you planning to smuggle them to the human realm?” I asked without looking up. I had a shit ton of these journals, and they contained any and all information about my day over the years. I’d started with drawings and random thoughts after my therapist—who was also Fate, because of course they were—Celeste had told me about it in one of our sessions—I was so glad my dads had taken me to them when I was younger—and over time, I’d turned into writing down all the thoughts swirling around my mind.

“Nah, what do I need money for?” he said, and I chuckled.

“Glad they’re safe from your greedy paws,” I told him.

“I don’t have paws,” he said in an utterly disgusted tone, making me laugh.

Once I was finished writing, I placed the journal and pen back in their drawer before turning to him.

“So, what are we doing today?”

He narrowed his eyes at me as he slithered down the curtain with a mix of magic and skills. “I’m not your assistant.”

“You aren’t?” I asked in mock-surprise, and he hissed loudly.

“Maybe we should hit the gym,” I said, poking my belly. Everyone in Otherworld had the perfect physique. Everyone. Pops—known to everyone else as Arty or Artemus, Consort of Otherworld—said it was because their bodies were made up of magic, and while that should be true for me and my dads too, we were different. We still had bits of our humanity. My dads had theirs because Pops and Da—known as Reece, Consort of Otherworld—had been human when they came here, and Dad—Damien, the King of Otherworld—because he was bonded to them and had gained pieces of their humanity like they got pieces of his magic.

I was a different issue entirely. Since I’d grown up from a kid to an adult, the magic had designed my body so it could grow like a human’s would. The only problem with that was that I gained weight like a human too, and I had a bit of a sweet tooth, which I totally blamed on all the hot chocolates and sweets my dads had fed me when I was younger.

Pops thought that once I was fully grown and my brain had developed completely, which apparently won’t happen until I was twenty-five, I would stop growing, and so, I needed to work hard and lose this extra weight in the next three years if I didn’t want to end up being pudgy forever.

“The gym, huh? The one here or the one in the office building?” he asked, and I shrugged.

“Here, I guess. It’s better equipped,” I said, and he nodded.

“Of course, that’s why.”

I narrowed my eyes at his tone, but he merely stared back at me. For a snake made from the King of Otherworld’s excess powers, he could be an ass sometimes. Dad was such a sweet man, I wondered how his powers could create someone so salty. Hmmm…maybe Ro’Shassz took all the snark with him, and that’s why Dad was such a sweetie. Shaking my head, I changed into a pair of gym shorts before heading out.

When I’d turned sixteen, Da had used his magic to separate my room from theirs, turning it into a smaller suite for me. Our places were still side by side, but now, they needed permission to come into my space, not that I’d ever denied them entry.

The dads and I—and Caelan, much to my annoyance—lived on the third floor of the Brume Villa. The only other room on this floor was the library, where I liked hanging out sometimes, though I preferred spending time in the lounge where there was always someone to talk to.

Closing the door, I turned to head toward the staircase, and scowled the moment I spotted him. Caelan was a few steps ahead of me, heading toward the staircase in a pair of shorts that clung to his ass like a second skin, his fluffy cat-like tail swishing slightly. What were the chances that we’d decided to head to the gym at the exact same time? And why did he have to keep his tail and cat ears visible? So what if he’d been a cat shifter in his human life? He had a secondary human-like form that was much less…distracting.

Grabbing my doorknob, I decided I’d go later. It wasn’t like I couldn’t postpone it. As if he could hear my thoughts, Caelan turned, his aqua blue eyes finding mine instantly. A smirk spread across his lips as he looked me up and down, and I stupidly felt the urge to cover my stomach.

“Heading for a workout, my prince?” Caelan called, and I gritted my teeth as I realized I’d lost my chance to escape. If I left now, he would think I was avoiding him, and I couldn’t give him that satisfaction. He’d moved back to Otherworld a few years ago, declaring the project he’d been working on for Fate was over, and now he was staying. At first, I’d avoided him, but I’d soon realized that I was making his life easier by doing that, so now I made a point of being around him and annoying him as much as I could.

“Yeah. You could use some exercise too, I think,” I said, and he grinned, his cat ears—the ears I’d once loved tugging on—twitching.

“Come on, then,” he called before rushing downstairs, and I followed him, leaving Ro’Shassz behind, muttering to himself.

Caelan

Every time I thought I’d felt the worst pain I could ever experience, I was proven wrong. Unlike most people, I wasn’t lucky enough to forget my human life. I didn’t know if that was because of all the trauma I’d experienced, or because I couldn’t seem to let go of those memories, but I remembered my darkest days in the human realm, and for a long time, I’d thought nothing could be worse than what I’d gone through.

But then I’d had to leave Walker as he bawled his eyes out and begged me to stay, and I’d realized I’d never felt pain as bad as that.

And yet, both those instances paled in comparison to now. Now, every time Walker looked at me, all I saw in his eyes was distaste. He hated me, and I didn’t know how to change that.

I’d come back to Otherworld a few months after Walker turned eighteen, intending to stay, to win him back, after Damien, Reece, and Arty all assured me that it was okay. But the Walker I returned to had changed. He’d grown, for once. He was twenty-two now and so beautiful. He wasn’t the sweet little kid I’d left behind. He was a man now. A man who hated me.

For the first few months after I got back, he’d avoided me. He would leave the room if I stepped inside, ignoring me if I knocked at his door. Then he changed his mind and started haunting me. But no matter how many times I tried, I couldn’t break through his walls, couldn’t figure out how to get him to stop hating me.

When sweet words and pleas didn’t seem to work and only served to push him farther away, I started playing his game. I acted like the feeling was mutual, like I hated him just as much as he hated me, because it was the only way I could think of to protect myself from the hurt that came from knowing that my mate hated me more than anyone in the world.

I glanced over at him as he pushed past me on his way to the gym, eyeing his ink-stained fingers. “Have you been scrawling in that journal all morning?” I asked, desperate to know anything about his life that he deemed to share with me. Damien had been kind enough to not call me out on how pathetic I was for acting like an enemy simply to have a reason to be around Walker, but it was probably because he was trying to stay away from the whole mindfuck that Walker and I were. Being my best friend and Walker’s dad, Damien was in the worst position ever, and he was trying his best to stay out of the mess.

He shot me a scowl as he hurried his steps, and I followed, making him grumble under his breath. “Yeah. I had a few choice words to write about this annoying asshole who won’t leave me alone.”

“Aww, you write about me in your diary? I’m honored, my prince,” I teased with a smirk, and he glared.

“Fuck off, Caelan,” he snapped as we reached the gym, and he rushed inside. Before I left, this gym had been my safe haven, and only Damien and I had access to it. The others still couldn’t use it, but I’d added Walker to it a long time ago, liking the idea of him spending time in a place that was so important to me.

As a soul collector, I didn’t need to work out to stay fit, but I enjoyed doing it, enjoyed pushing my body until I was too exhausted to do anything but go to my room and fall asleep. Some days, that was the only way I could sleep.

“Wanna spar?” I asked, rubbing my palms together, and Walker grimaced. Every time the two of us ended up in the gym together—which happened quite often since I may or may not know Walker’s schedule—I egged Walker into sparring with me. I enjoyed teaching him how to fight, and it was the only time I got to touch him without the threat of raising his ire. When he didn’t reply, I waggled my brow. “Scared to lose?”

Like I’d hoped, his eyes narrowed and he walked over to me. “I’m not scared, because I won’t lose. You’re the one who should be worried, old man. I don’t think you’ll be able to keep up with me,” he taunted, and I stepped closer to him, leaving only a handspan of distance between us.

“Don’t you worry about that, my prince. I can keep up with you all night long.” I felt a rush when Walker’s eyes darkened, and he swallowed. “Now, are you ready to work up a sweat?”

He shook his head and stepped back, looking anywhere but at me as he took a deep breath, and it was moments like these that told me that maybe, maybe hate wasn’t all Walker felt for me. And it was moments like these that kept me coming back, that kept me acting like I didn’t care about Walker just so I could be around him, when he was all I cared about.

Ro’Shassz

Wow, talk about having your head stuck up your ass. Or was it sticking your head in the sand? Who cared!

Walker and Caelan were being idiots. I’d given them four fucking years to get their shit together after Caelan came back. How had Walker not realized Caelan returned months after his eighteenth birthday? He was smarter than that! And yet nothing. I was done waiting now, though. It was time to employ some tactics. To make sure no one ever forgot my genius, I was going to write a journal of my own. I might not have hands, but I had magic, and that was just as good.

Since my dear charge seemed intent on never calling them anything else, here’s a little cheat sheet for anyone who might need it:

Pops – Arty, Da – Reece, and Dad – Damien.

Step : Try to make them see the giant elephant in the room.