Chapter 10
Cat
The sexy, scowling bastard had to be lying.
There was no way my name was Cactus. And worse than that—my middle name was Bengal Tiger?
Were my parents clinically insane? I asked as much, a deep furrow carving into my brow as I looked from the intimidating, tattooed man—who smelled so good, a heady aroma of sandalwood and something sweet—to the others.
The curly haired, kind-faced man gazed blankly into the fog, his expression slack, something about his posture bereft and hopeless.
The solemn-eyed black man gave me a smile so sad and aching that my stomach knotted, and something like guilt churned within me.
Had I seen that smile before? Had I stood here, so close I could feel the heat and presence of him?
Had those arms wrapped around me and held me tight?
He looked like he gave good hugs, and a phantom feeling of being held made me jump, looking quickly away.
The pretty, pale-haired man beside him was crying, except he’d turned away from me, his hands covering his face.
His back was bowed, white shirt clinging to the ridges of his spine in a way that squeezed my heart and forced me forward a stunted step.
Seeing him cry hurt, the same way seeing this place in ruins hurt.
The redhead stared at me with teary hope, his hair a mess that stuck out in all directions and his shirt ripped at the bottom, the top printed with I like my whiskey straight but my friends can go either way.
It made my lips twitch into a smile, and he heaved a broken, jagged sob like I’d told him Dolly Parton had died. 1
“Sorry,” I whispered, the guilt swirling faster, until nausea wavered through my middle. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you.”
I wanted to. I wanted to know who I was, who they were to me, wanted to fill in the void in my head with memories of these men who clearly loved me. Who were so hurt by the blank space in my memory that they cried.
The gruff, tattooed man sighed and while my defences were down, he swept me into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, a kiss finding the crown of my head.
My eyes slammed shut, as they did the last time he hugged me, and even though I yelled at myself that I was allowing a strange man to hold me, I allowed it for a moment, then two, and three.
It felt good. Reassuring in a way I couldn’t remember feeling. Safe.
For a girl with a black hole in her mind and nothing but uncertainty in her future, the feeling of safety was a drug.
“It’s not your fault, beautiful,” he sighed, letting me go with another kiss to my hair.
I swallowed, wet my dry lips, and smiled softly when my horse—Fuzzball, apparently—nudged my arm.
I stroked her soft nose, wishing I had a snack for her.
Horses liked apples, right? That thought hit me out of nowhere, and I could almost remember feeding her a crisp, green apple, listening to her crunch as we prepared to ride to… somewhere.
But who were we? Were these men the ones who’d ridden with me?
“Do you have horses, too?” I asked, which admittedly was a strange question to voice before I even knew their names. “And—what are your names? I think you’re important to me, so I should know them.”
“We have horses,” the broad-shouldered black man said in a voice made of velvet and honey.
So soft, so adoringly sweet. Just the sound of it made my chest ache, and a lump rose into my throat.
“We can ride with you wherever you choose to go.” That wasn’t what I meant, but before I could say that, he made me freeze by adding, “And I’m Death. ”
I jolted like I’d been struck. “Death? You’re Death?”
He nodded, thin braids swaying around his face. “Your husband.”
I didn’t have the bandwidth for that. “Well, this has been lovely, but Fuzzball and I must be off. So nice to meet you, have a good life.”
I reached for Fuzzball’s reins, about to pull myself up when he laughed.
A low, luxurious roll of thunder that worked through my body like it knew the pathways of my heart, knew exactly how to flutter through my belly, how to settle lower and pool into warmth.
I knew this laugh, even if I couldn’t remember hearing it before.
And the pause was just long enough for the freckle-faced, redheaded man to dart forward.
He lifted me off the ground, throwing me over a surprisingly strong shoulder, gently enough that it didn’t wind me.
But his arm latched over the backs of my thighs, trapping me against him as I struggled.
“You’re not allowed to leave, lioness,” he said in a voice rasped raw. “You need to stay so we can help you remember us, and then you can love us again and we’ll live happily ever after. Cruelty’s dead now. Your dad killed him. That reminds me; should we have left him behind? Was that a bit mean?”
Words spilled from him so fast they stumbled over each other.
“He’s with Neglect,” Death replied. “She’ll take care of him.”
“My dad?” I blurted, seizing onto those words and allowing the madman who’d grabbed me to carry me across the fog-doused courtyard and up castle steps partly crumbled. “I have a dad?”
“Yup,” the man carrying me said, his steps quickening as a cool darkness enveloped us.
My heart jolted, panic tightening my belly, but an awkward glance up showed we’d just stepped into the foyer of the once-grand castle.
I was impressed it still stood; there were entire swaths of it missing, mist churning over the empty spots.
“And he’s every bit as fearsome as you, my lioness.
He stabbed Cruelty all over. Shredded her to bits.
It was impressive.” He quickly tacked on, “Not as impressive as you, obviously. No one can bludgeon someone quite so beautifully as you can.”
“Uh.” The blood must have been rushing to my head, because the compliment warmed my chest, as if my heart was accustomed to them. “Thanks?”
“You’re welcome. My name is Madde, by the way. But you should know, you call me love, and I don’t want to lose that name.”
My head began to pound, to float. “Madde? Or love?”
I didn’t realise I was moving until he’d whipped me down his body and my feet stumbled onto the floor. A moment later, I was pushed up against a wall beside a painting of a very dour man in a red silk shirt and ruff that looked a lot like the pale, crying man outside.
Madde’s mouth met mine before I could even begin to push him away, and every bit of resistance melted as I remembered this.
Not the man, not any of our time spent together.
But I remembered the feeling of kissing him.
His frantic hands were familiar, his desperate, gasping kiss lurking in the black hole in my mind.
And for a crazy second, I kissed him back.
“Madness! You stupid bastard,” someone snarled, and he was ripped away from me, leaving me reeling against the wall, my legs a little weak.
“Madness?” I echoed, and cleared my throat when my words came out husky and low. “That’s your name? Madness and Death.” I frowned at the beautiful Asian man who’d pulled Madde away.
“Misery,” he provided, unable to meet my stare. That hurt, too, an inexplicable pain that carved through my chest.
“Those aren’t normal names,” I pointed out.
Misery shrugged. “Names are hard to hold onto when we’re reborn. Do you know your death god name?”
“Death god?” I demanded, a little shrill. I knew I was a god, because someone had told me. I couldn’t recall who, but a dry, male voice clung to my mind, along with lessons imparted about magic and—and the paper screwed up in my hand. I unfolded it and cast a glance at the list.
A set of scales for Judgement.
A coil of iron to fix the gates.
A home for lost creatures.
A stone to summon spirits home.
A pained heart returned.
A kiss to save a death.
And at the bottom were three words: trust your bonds.
I didn’t know about bonds, but I trusted the man who wrote this list.
“Lioness,” Madde said, pulling my attention back to him—and the others, all clustered around me in the foyer of the vast castle. “Your name is Cat.”
“I know,” I murmured. Cactus Bengal-Tiger Wallison.
I glanced up as the heavily tattooed man moved closer, looking inclined to grab Madde if he kissed me again.
“Tor,” he answered my unspoken question. “Torment. And this cute motherfucker is Pain.”
“Pain?” I frowned. “Is that your curse? Are you in pain?”
“Right now?” the curly-haired man laughed bitterly, the tormented rasp of his voice at odds with the innocent softness of his face. “Yeah. I’m in pain.”
I sighed heavy enough to ruffle my hair, my shoulders slumping. I meant it when I apologised for not knowing them. I glanced at the list again, smoothing my thumb over the bottom line.
“We’re bonded, aren’t we?” I looked up, looked at all of them. Unnaturally handsome, physically intimidating, and rife with power. But melancholy, grieving—all of them.
Tor’s words came back to me. Because you are the love of my fucking life, and I just held your lifeless body in my arms, and there’s no fucking way I’m losing you again.
He loved me. I thought maybe they all loved me. And I had a father, left behind somewhere. I had a family. I rubbed the knot in my chest.
“We’re bonded,” Misery confirmed, staring at the remnants of a grand staircase. “And you’re our wife. You forgetting us doesn’t change that.”
I physically jumped when his attention swung to me, his golden eyes searing right down my chest to brand a mark on my heart when they met mine.
“Don’t run, my universe,” he warned. “There’s no escaping us.”
Tor hit him upside the head, messing Miz’s hair. “Why would you say that? Now she’s going to—”
I was already spinning around and sprinting into one of the open doorways, bursting into a living room that made my chest squeeze like the village had.
I could almost see the splendour of the couches, the thick rugs, the fireplace that was now dead, chipped, and bereft of fire, but once fierce. Almost.
I burst into a short hallway, followed that into a kitchen, and jumped around holes in the floor and an entire side wall devoured by fog, aiming for a back door.
Skin tingled between my shoulder blades, but I made it out the door and sprinted around the side of the building, praying Fuzzball was still standing in the courtyard.
I found her gnawing at a bed of tulips, picking off their lime green petals and thoughtfully chewing. The sight made me stop, a spear of pain lancing my chest. The flowers… they meant something to me. I just couldn’t remember what.
“Fuzzball,” I panted, slowing as I approached. “Should you be eating those? I don’t think tulips are good for horses.”
She swung her head around, eyes gleaming deep crimson, smoke rippling from her forelock.
“Then again,” I said, “you’re no ordinary horse, so bon appetit.”
When she didn’t give me a warning stamp or huff at me, I grasped the saddle and hauled myself up, surprised anew by the natural motion of it.
“Let’s get out of here,” I urged, pressing my thighs into her sides—to absolutely no effect. “Fuzzball, come on. I need to leave!”
She tossed an irritated noise my way and went back to munching on the tulips.
“You came for me in that dark place, but you won’t take me away from here?
” I grumbled, fog dancing around her legs, her side, brushing my knees.
I shied away from it, but it left me unharmed.
I unfolded the list again and scanned it, that male voice in my memory telling me the domain needed to be saved, that I was the only one who could fix it. That it was my home.
“Fine,” I muttered, about to swing myself off Fuzzball’s back when five other horses emerged around the side of the house, equally fearsome and impressive, with dark smoke billowing from their hooves, their manes.
Their riders were cloaked, helmeted, but it didn’t take a genius to guess that these five riders were the five men from the house. My husbands. My bonded ones.
I sighed. Heavily.
Death met my gaze, something patient and loving in his stare. “Lead the way, little bride. We’ll follow wherever you want to go.”