3. SOPHIE
Clouds. Sophie was in a bed of clouds, she was sure of it. Her muscles, sore, melted into the bed she lay on. Something firm and warm pressed up against her legs, easing her muscles even further. In the distance, birds chirped freely and happily. The sound of moving water trickled through the crisp, clear air and into . . . this room. Her room? No. Surely not.
Sophie’s eyes fluttered open to find a ceiling made of pure white marble.
Oh gods, am I still in the temple?
Panic raced through her as quickly as a flame took to a match. Sophie shot up, taking in her surroundings, her stiff neck working against her. Her bearings were nowhere to be found. She had no idea where she was.
Shit.
The bed lay flush against the wall in an open-air room. There were no windows, just white marble columns with pristine white curtains, billowing against the soft wind, blocking out the sun. Where in Faery was she? Summeira perhaps? The air felt fresh and clear as if it were so.
Sophie blinked her eyes to clear her vision again, her focus falling upon the moving mound of dark fur against her leg. That heated mass that nestled against her legs earlier? Yep. It was a fully grown hellhound.
Sophie let out a silent shriek. Yes, silent, because she knew better than to poke a grizzly bear, albeit a snoozing grizzly bear, but one with razor-sharp teeth all the same. The jolt of fear of seeing Terr’s – king of the Shadow Realm – very own minion dog napping against her had yet to settle. Was she in the Shadow Realm? She had to be. It was where hellhounds were born and bred – vicious, bloodthirsty creatures who wreaked havoc wherever they went. They would maul everyone and anyone who stood in their master’s way. The Elite, Faery’s strongest warriors, had lost their parents in vicious, unprovoked hellhound attacks.
Great.Sophie had landed herself in the Shadow Realm itself. Not only had Kaine managed to slaughter Cam, but he’d most likely succeeded in killing her too. It was the only explanation for the hellhound that lay right next to her.
As slow as possible, Sophie slid herself out of the lush white bed, careful not to disturb the creature. It’s flaming tail burned brighter, acknowledging the movement.
Holy shit. She’d have to make a run for it. Sophie shot her eyes to the small courtyard, just beyond her bed. It was cordoned off by hedges. Not an option.
There. The door.
Mustering all the energy she could, she bolted for it, her legs like two pieces of uncooperative jelly. She needed to put distance between herself and this monster.
The hound’s ears perked up, but it didn’t move. In fact, it just watched her flail toward the door. Her body was still weak from all the power she used in Wrenntian temple . . . and the grief that held her heart hostage.
Sophie wrenched the door open, slamming it shut behind her. She leaned against it, catching her breath. That was a close call. Holding her ear against the cold door, she listened for movement. There was none. The hound must’ve gone back to sleep.
“He’s not going to eat you,” a dark sensuous voice rumbled from behind her.
Her heart involuntarily skipped a beat, making her swift heel-turn, turn into a stumble of sorts.
She faced the voice’s owner now.
She knew that long dark hair.
She knew those turquoise eyes.
Kaine.
Sophie had never felt such poisonous rage before. The type that boiled your insides, but despite the pain, pushed you to feel unspeakably deep, pushed you until your world was painted in red. Pushed you to the point where you knew no world but the one doused in the angry colour of blood.
She started toward him, teeth bared, fists clenched, eyes promising a torturous death. Caution, sense and control fell to the wayside. How dare he show his face to her after what he’d done to Cam? After what he did to her? Sophie flung out her arm, willing all the mana she could to blast him, but nothing came through.
“Woah, is that how you normally treat people who save you?” He shot his hands up in the air, dodging her advances.
Was that surprise that laced each word? He’d just murdered one of his best friends. Her friend.
“How dare you show your face to me after what you did? How could you?” Sophie’s voice was dark and murderous. A mask for the trembling, ice-cold rage that simmered beneath her skin. Tears blurred her vision entirely. Her heart tore over and over again as a glimpse of Cam’s laughing face flashed before her. A glimpse of her own bruised wrists and arms that she hid from Ellie threatened to pull her down into a darkness she was afraid to live in. And that was enough to break the dam that held together her punishing fury.
She moved. Her heart obliterated itself as she pummelled and raged against the person who made her very nightmares come to life. Her knuckles cracked and her nails sliced against her own palms. She held nothing back as she beat into his chest.
Yet he just stood there, taking it all. Taking all her rage, absorbing it all until the fiery rage calmed to a tranquil stream.
He did not lay a hand on her.
“Why can’t you say something?!” Sophie cried, defeated.
She leaned her head against his strong chest, feeling entirely small and helpless.
He smelled different.
Silence.
A pause.
Then he spoke with a tenderness, as if his own heart had been broken. “I have no words for a male who would hurt a female, let alone a female he supposedly loves. And love hurts, I know, but never in that way. Never.” His voice was different, clear, more confident and deeper.
Sophie looked up to find a face, while similar to Kaine’s, was in its own way, different. Where Kaine’s face was sharp and determined, this stranger’s face was kind, strong and . . . softer. His lips were fuller, lines dipping and curves peaking in a way that called upon Sophie’s intrigue. A large scar slashed across his left eye, running down to touch his cheek in the shape of a lightning bolt. The movement in his turquoise eyes reminded her of billowing smoke . . . like a time-lapse of a cloud-filled, mountainous valley being kissed by the sunrise in a perfectly turquoise sky.
Sophie’s foot almost slipped from under her as she attempted a feeble step back.
This was not Kaine.
The realisation seized her throat in a catastrophe of confusion.
Sophie tried another step back, flinging a hand to her throat in surprise.
The being before her was taller, his shoulders broader and his muscles thicker. Tattoos covered both arms and shoulders, and while his hair was the same length as Kaine’s, this stranger had an undercut that accentuated a strong jawline. An underlayer of pure white hair peeked from under layers of his inky hair as if he’d been struck by lightning. His fingernails were painted black. White wings peaked high above his head and fluttered under her gaze. He had wings. White feathered wings that were neatly tucked behind him.
How could she have missed those?
“Who . . . are you?” Sophie managed to whisper.
The stranger’s eyes softened with . . . what? Pity? Sadness? Sophie couldn’t place it, but she didn’t miss the way his full lips turned down just the slightest before he found her eyes again.
“My name is Acheron, though you can call me Ash.” He smiled handsomely; his soft, now hope-filled eyes watched her carefully. He extended a hand and despite the festered, infected heart she carried in her chest, she beheld those eyes and the face that reminded her so much of Kaine. The one who betrayed her heart when it already lay beaten, encrusted with dirt and debris from the ground of her past.
Different, she had to remind herself. This person was a different person. Sophie gingerly placed her hand in his, swallowing a knot of embarrassment. Before she could stop him, Acheron bent low, placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand. His angel wings extended behind him, in a show of beautiful feathers. The tenderness of it all sent shivers up her arm. And she hated it. The tenderness. It was not something she deserved.
Sophie cleared her throat. “Sophie. Sophie Taliesin.” It was pathetic. She wanted nothing more than to drown in her embarrassment and confusion in the confines of the bed she was just in.
“Welcome to the Godlands, Sophie,” Acheron bowed, his hand still holding hers. Not once did his eyes leave hers.
The Godlands . . . holy mother of Faery. Sophie’s knees almost buckled.
She was in the Godlands – Heaven.