Chapter 1
Hazel
“Let’s see you smile now, you stupid Reaper,” I mutter, slamming another drawer shut before moving to his wardrobe.
The scent of my mate is everywhere, nearly choking me, making me sway on my feet. Fuck, I didn’t think this through. I should’ve planned something that didn’t involve breaking into his room until his warm, earthy scent was making it hard to swallow.
My fingers accidentally brush a crisp white shirt, sending shivers down my spine.
This is what I get for years of loyalty. If Anxo weren’t one of the few men I respect, I would’ve stabbed him for betraying me like this.
Like any good friend, I was happy when all my friends finally found the fated mates they had been desperately praying for. Overnight, I was surrounded by too much happiness and love, and it was gross, but I tolerated it. For them. Until they stabbed me in the back.
Not even a week after the Sisters of Fate decided to wreck my sanity and drop Dean Blackburn into my life, Anxo kicked me out of the Horseman Castle, spouting some bullshit about how new mates needed time together to strengthen their bond.
Heartless asshole.
He knew I’d been avoiding Dean like my life depended on it, and instead of taking pity on me, he sent me packing to the Death Castle.
That’s how I ended up here, living with a man I want to stab at least once a day.
No one understands what it’s like to crave something with every ounce of your being, only to have to let it go.
Thank Lucifer, we don’t feel the mate bond like dragons or werewolves do. The second they find their mates, they’re all over each other. Hell, they can’t go two feet apart without whining like lovesick fools.
It’s hard enough ignoring Dean and his stupid jokes and that stupid smirk. I don’t know what I would’ve done if every time I walked away from him, all the nerves in my body were set on fire.
I scan the room, making sure nothing looks out of place, before slipping out and locking the door behind me.
My heart pounds in my throat as I hurry down the hallway. I know it’s stupid to play pranks instead of having an actual conversation and telling him I can’t do this, but this is the only way I can have him without destroying his peace… and I’m not ready to let that go.
The secrets I’m hiding, the darkness chasing me, I won’t let it touch another person. Especially not someone like Dean.
I’m halfway down the stairs when Dean walks in, grumbling under his breath. I know he had a meeting with his head Reaper, Vista, and she has a way of pissing him off that I almost admire.
Dean rolls the sleeves of his black shirt to his elbows as he walks toward me with a swagger that belongs on a runway.
My heart skips a beat when his soft brown eyes find me, and a wide smile takes over his face. The crinkles at the corners make him look warm and relaxed… like he’s genuinely happy to see me.
For a second, panic locks my lungs when I catch myself smiling back before I smooth my expression.
“Good morning, my beautiful, talented mate.” his smile tilts into a smirk, and I know he caught me. “Off to the training fields?”
I roll my eyes at the theatrics.
His gaze lingers on my hair that’s still damp from my shower, and something sparks in his eyes. When he keeps smiling like a creep, I sidestep him, but before I can get far, Dean calls my name.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Something in his voice makes me hesitate, but I nod anyway.
“How long do you have to soak in?”
“Excuse me?”
“I was just wondering how long you have to stay in the water to… you know, recharge your siren powers.”
What the fuck…
“Wait a minute. So you’re the idiot who told everyone all those bullshit theories about sirens?” I hiss.
His eyes widen before he spins and bolts upstairs.
And this is why I thought the Fates were playing a prank on me. Who pairs someone like me with a man who acts like a child high on sugar?
He’s one of the strongest beings in existence, the fucking Grim Reaper, and he giggles like a little shit while spouting nonsense facts about my kind.
That’s Dean Blackburn for you.
Dean stops at the top of the stairs and turns, the glint in his eyes making me narrow mine. What’s he up to now?
“Does this mean you don’t turn blue if you stay out of the water for too long?”
“I will kill you!” I growl like a feral animal.
I’m seething as his Divine seeps out, dark smoke spilling down the stairs, creeping toward me like they’re on a mission. I don’t step back. I’d never admit it out loud, but something about his essence calms me. Maybe it’s the mate bond, but I’ve never felt the need to shield myself from him.
The shadows circle me, brushing over my arms with a feather-light touch. Goosebumps rise across my skin, but I know better than to let Dean see it. His ego is already unbearable without him finding out that his presence affects me.
One tendril slithers before my face, and I narrow my eyes as if reminding it to behave.
“You look adorable when you’re pissed.” His shadows flick my nose, retreating faster than I can pull my dagger on their host. Dean takes off, his loud, carefree laughter echoing through the halls behind him.
I’m breathing fire as I watch him escape. I don’t know why this idiot insists on provoking me. It’s like he enjoys watching me squirm because I never know how to react.
Everyone in the kingdom knows what happens when someone invades my space. I’ve broken enough fingers to send the message across, but none of it matters anymore. Now, there’s a buffoon in my life who’s not afraid to cross a few boundaries… even if it means I’ll stab him.
I set a boundary two years ago when I first got here, and everyone respected it.
And now, even if I wanted to rise above my fear and discomfort and let people in, I wouldn’t know how.
It feels wrong. My default reaction to feeling awkward or even slightly out of place is violence or sharp words, and unfortunately for me, Dean is immune to both.
For the first fifteen years of my life, the only touch I knew made my skin crawl and bile rise in my throat. Then Anxo, the Horseman of Conquer, found me and offered me a place in his kingdom, in his family… one that didn’t flinch from affection.
They hug and kiss freely, welcome every stray act of love like it’s second nature to them. Sometimes it makes me feel like I’m broken because I’ve never craved that comfort.
“Hazel, what the fuck did you do to my cupboard!” Dean’s voice echoes through the halls, and an evil cackle escapes me. When his thundering footsteps follow, I turn and skip out the door. I hate to admit it, but starting my day messing with Dean gets my blood pumping.
Dean has longed for a mate his whole life, but he’s about to realize it’s not a gift; the Fates cursed him with him.
Warmth settles over me as I step into the sun. Two icy moons fade behind me as a cool breeze wraps around me, pairing perfectly with the warmth on my face.
The Tetrad kingdom is probably my favorite place in the universe. I could say it’s because this is the only realm where I know I’m completely safe from my past, but it’s not just that. It’s the weather, my people, the beautiful architecture surrounding me.
This kingdom may be divided into four parts—Conquer, War, Famine, and Death—but their hearts are forever united. I never felt that kind of bond in Eldoris. All that place ever made me feel was cold and detached.
Here, for once, I can breathe.
As I walk toward the training field, I cringe at how everyone bows the second they see me. It’s unsettling, the way elders smile at me, or kids wave like they’re excited to see me. I return the kids’ smile… or my version of one, and ignore the adults.
There was a time when people were scared to look me in the eye, but ever since Dean opened his big mouth and announced I was his mate, my reputation has taken a hit. Now everyone thinks I’m fucking approachable.
I don’t know why everyone’s so relieved I’m Dean’s mate, considering I’ve been glaring and grunting my way through this kingdom since the first day I came here.
I can’t believe these people think I’m going to be the Queen of Death. The idea is honestly laughable. I’m not even a proper siren, how the hell am I supposed to be a queen?
Even if, by some miracle, I were crowned the Queen, at least I wouldn’t have to endure the throne for too long. Nevaeh, Dean’s younger daughter and one of my closest friends, will soon take over as the Horsewoman of Death and the first female Grim Reaper.
Sometimes it feels strange that Dean’s daughters are closer to my age, but to be fair, he had Nevaeh when he was just seventeen, and Grace was already a teenager when he adopted her.
The Blackburn family has a habit of defying nature. Both the girls landed in Dean’s lap by strange miracles.
As I near the training field, the sound of children screeching reaches me. I still remember how I ran in like my tail was on fire when I heard the ear-piercing screams on my first day as the trainer. The parents gave me strange looks, but I was genuinely worried the kids were in danger.
It took me a while to realize kids scream like they’re being chased by zombies for fun.
A hush falls over the group as I step onto the training ground, rolling my shoulders and preparing to stretch.
Last year, Anxo asked me if I’d be willing to train kids between the ages of ten and sixteen who wanted to become warriors. I won’t lie, I was reluctant at first. I barely know how to deal with adults, and I was convinced I’d sent the kids crying on their first day.
I never would’ve guessed our training sessions would become the talk of the kingdom. Kids take constructive criticism better than adults. They’re eager to learn, and by some miracle, they think I’m funny. The older ones say dark humor is trending, so my grumbling counts as entertainment.
Kids are weird.
Last year, Anxo received requests from all over the realms asking to send their kids to me, but I don’t want to change things and risk losing this slice of peace.
The kids know the process by heart, so they quickly choose opponents and line up for one-on-one duels. Every Wednesday, we test what they’ve learned and put it to the test. I have no idea why they still love Wednesdays, since most of them are humbled by my criticism by the end of the day.
Luke, a sixteen-year-old elf, stands across Asha, a fourteen-year-old weredragon. She’s smaller, but fast enough to rival his strength.
Asha moves behind Luke, planning a morally dicey move, and kicks him in the back harder than he expects. Luke’s sword hits the ground as he drops to his knees. He recovers quickly, but the damage is done.
“Come on, Luke! Even Gale could’ve seen that coming.” The ten-year-old demon spawn laughs beside me, raising his fist. I bump my knuckles against his without looking, smirking when I catch his face light up from the corner of my eye.
For some reason, the kids get really excited every time I bump fists or pat their shoulders. My chest aches at the pride on their faces. They don’t take it lightly, and it makes it easier to drop my guard around them.
When Luke stays down, drowning in self-pity, I step between them. Asha swings her sword once before sheathing it behind her back, not missing the chance to show off. I nod in approval, but when I turn to Luke, his disappointment hangs heavy in the air.
“Hand it over.” he hesitates, then passes me the sword. I swing it twice before driving it into the sand. “Your weapon should feel like an extension of your body. Dropping it should feel like losing a limb. Knowing how to use it is a start. Making it a part of you is the goal.”
Luke watches silently, shame flashing in his eyes.
I tilt my head. “Why did you choose a sword?”
The kid rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I thought it looked cool.” When I raise a brow, he groans and kicks the sand. “I know. It’s stupid.”
“How did you feel using it?”
“Like an idiot. It’s clearly not for me.”
The poor kid looks dejected, and I’m not made for hurting kids. Give me an adult, and I’ll point out every mistake until they cry, but if one of my kids cries, it twists me up like a pretzel.
I sigh. “Look, I get it. It is cool, but what’s cooler is staying alive.” I hand the sword back to Luke. “Go put it back. This time, pick something that complements your skill and strength.”
He turns, shoulders slumped. “And Luke?” He looks back at me. “If you really want to learn, I can teach you how to use a sword properly.” His eyes light up, glassy with emotion. “But after you master your signature weapon.”
The pout on his face is so pathetic, I want to take it back and start teaching him how to wield a sword right this second. I pat his head twice and sigh in relief when he perks up like a puppy before running off to choose a new weapon.
These kids are the future of the Tetrad kingdom. They don’t understand the gravity of their choice yet, but they will soon.
Sure, warriors are born with grit, but they are shaped by pain and determination. I would never want any of them standing on a battlefield on the worst day of their lives, feeling like they weren’t prepared… like they weren’t enough.
If I can shape them into warriors even the mightiest would hesitate to face, then I’ve done my job right.