Chapter 22
The day after the seance,Marcus sat on the sofa in his penthouse. Dove was curled at the opposite end, legs tucked beneath her flowing skirt, arms folded, eyes locked on the rug. Since their visit to Claymore, he’d noted a marked distance between them. At first, he’d blamed it on exhaustion. Now, he wasn’t sure. Was she upset he’d allowed Shadow to rise? How could she be after she was the one who’d helped him to embrace their union?
“Boss,” Bishop said.
“Hmm?” He forced his attention back to the lycan. Bishop sat on the opposite sofa, his bulk taking up a good portion of real estate. Earlier, Marcus and Dove had brought him up to speed regarding the visit to Claymore.
Bishop repeated, “What’s your plan for handling the backlash over Victor’s arrest?”
It was a reminder Marcus had more on his plate than his personal agenda. He had a responsibility to House Othonos as well. “There’s little to be done at this point. Could be nothing will come of it. Just posturing on Tiberius’s part. I wouldn’t put it past him to use it as a scare tactic, bringing those who oppose him in line.”
Bishop arched a thick brow, unconvinced. “If the clan leader is convicted, it could cause a loss of faith in the chain of command. If he’s innocent and the magister’s accusations are unfounded, your uncle will look incompetent. I’ve seen it happen with some of the lycan packs. Either way, it’s bound to instigate civil unrest.”
“Agreed. I’ll speak to my House officers, tell them to head off any talk that may lead to panic. I’ve no idea what Tiberius hopes to gain with all these arrests. His actions have become unpredictable. All the more reason to make sure Helen doesn’t land me on the task force’s blacklist.”
Bishop canted his head, growing pensive. “If what Adam said can be trusted, Helen will be looking for money laundering opportunities, since her scheme with Steele Industries ended. You have that fight at the casino coming up. You could use it to your advantage.”
That traitor, Adam, would have said just about anything to get back into his body. Still, the word of a dead man was all he had to go on. “It’s a popular event, but not big enough to draw the attention we need.”
“It will be if you put me in the ring.” The former super heavyweight champion stared at him, unmoving, unflinching.
Marcus stared back, not trusting his ears. “You want to fight.” Bishop nodded. “But you haven’t fought since…” Since Bishop’s beast got the upper hand and the lycan had lost control.
“Not since I killed Hernandez.”
In Council sanctioned matches, fighters who killed their opponents were disqualified. Investors got pissed off when their asset bled out on the mat. Also, it added another level of complexity to the match. Supernatural combatants often found it difficult to resist a killing blow.
Hernandez’s death had haunted Bishop in more ways than one. The fallen male’s family had wanted their pound of flesh. In retaliation, they’d pleaded their case to the lycan elders, ensuring Bishop couldn’t return to his pack.
Marcus shook his head. “I don’t like it. That event is a wildcard match. There’s no telling who you’d be up against.”
“You think I can’t handle myself?” Bishop’s eyes flickered with his beast’s presence.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then put me in. Word gets out, it will bring the kind of numbers you’re looking for. Enough to attract even Helen’s ilk.”
This was true. In Bishop’s day, he filled arenas beyond capacity. When word got out the former champion was returning to the ring, fans would come in droves. “I’ve no doubt. It will also put you in her crosshairs.”
Bishop snorted. “What? You think I’ve gone soft? Let me assure you, I have not.”
He could see it in Bishop’s eyes, the need to unleash his primal half. Better yet, to unleash it surrounded by a bloodthirsty crowd.
“Marcus alone could be enough to draw her attention.” Dove finally joined the conversation, asking Marcus, “Have you visited to the casino since”—she winced—“you know?”
“I have not.” He’d not set foot in the place that almost ended him. Nor had he been in the public’s eyes. Not with his face being the stuff of nightmares.
“Take me there. Together, we will defeat any foe. Or are you a coward?” Shadow taunted in the back of his mind.
“Silence, beast,” Marcus snarled through their shared link.
“Returning to the casino could be difficult, even without Helen’s involvement,” Dove said, picking up on his discomfort. “You sure you want to do this under such dire circumstances?”
“It’s just a building,” he said, convincing her, convincing himself. “One of several I own.” If it meant capturing Helen, he’d walk through the fires of hell. Returning to the casino would be a close second.
“I’ll assemble a crew.” Bishop rubbed his beefy hands together, like he was already envisioning the damage he would do in the ring. “Make sure we have everything covered inside and out.”
“Bishop won’t be able to have your back if he’s fighting,” Dove added, voicing yet another concern.
Her anxiety did little to alleviate Marcus’s. Still, he had too much riding on this to give in to his misgivings. “We can make it work. I’ll speak to my event planner. Let him know Bishop and I will both be in attendance. Tell him to get the word out.”
Ida hustled into the room, apron strings flapping. “Sorry to interrupt, Lord Steele, but the guard at the front door says there’s a young woman named Celeste here to see Dove.”
Marcus met Dove’s look of relief and arched a brow.
She tilted her chin at a defiant angle. “I asked her to come over to help me translate Victor’s book. It’s written in some funky language I’ve never seen before.”
The same book that contained a drawing of the emblem on his chest. He frowned. “Make certain that’s all she pokes her nose into.” He sure as hell didn’t need some gossipy shopkeeper finding out about his demon. Not when he was so close to achieving his goals.
“I can be discreet, you know.” Dove scowled.
One word he did not associate with the flamboyant necromancer. “See her in, Ida,” Marcus ordered.
Dove unwound herself from the sofa and met Celeste as she entered the great room. The two women embraced.
“Thank you for coming. I could really use your help,” Dove said.
“No problem. Besides, no way I was passing up an opportunity to see the inside of Lord Steele’s penthouse.” Celeste swept into the room, long skirt swishing around her ankles. Bells jangling. She locked eyes with Bishop, whose scowl deepened.
“Hello, handsome.” She batted her lashes. “Long time no see. Did you miss me?”
“Hmm,” Bishop grunted in reply, earning himself a frown from Dove.
Dove folded her arms and pinned the lycan with a pointed stare. The devious gleam in her eyes warned she was about to toss him to the wolves. “Bishop plans to fight in the match at the casino next weekend.”
Celeste gasped, her face lighting with delight. “Oh, that’s fabulous. Please tell me you’re coming out of retirement.” The witch clasped her hands over her heart.
“It’s just one fight,” Bishop grumbled, folding his thick arms and glancing away. Marcus watched the male’s ears turn an unflattering shade of red. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect the lycan was blushing.
“Then it will be a match your biggest fan will not miss.” If Celeste were a cartoon drawing, hearts would pound in her eye sockets. “This is so exciting,” the witch squealed, reaching an ear-piercing octave.
Marcus pursed his lips. With Celeste at the helm, half the underworld would know about the fight in a matter of hours. No doubt, she’d tell every shop owner and customer she knew. Perhaps Dove inviting her over wasn’t a complete waste of time.
Dove snagged the woman’s hand. “Let’s head to my room. These two are harshing my vibe.”
Celeste winked at Bishop, blowing him a kiss, then followed in Dove’s wake.
Bishop glared at their departing backs. “They’re up to something.”
Marcus followed their progress down the hallway. “Without a doubt.”
Dove retrievedthe book she’d borrowed from Victor while Celeste explored her bedroom.
“Sweet digs,” Celeste said, adding an appreciative whistle. “Could use a bit of color, though.”
“Tell me about it,” Dove huffed. “Not that I’ve been here enough to do any decorating.” If she stayed, something would need to be done to spruce up the place. Dove stilled, hands frozen on the thick leather book. If she stayed? What would that look like? Sure, Dove Land was great, but she and Marcus living together would certainly change things. Would they share the same room? Same bed? Her lady bits warmed, liking that idea very much. Still, she had too much on her mind to delve too deeply into the particulars.
“Here it is.” Dove thunked the heavy book down on the small breakfast table.
“Holy cow. This thing is ancient.” Celeste stroked the cover, her touch reverent. “Where did you say you got this?”
“An acquaintance loaned it to me.” If Celeste discovered she’d stolen it from the clan leader, she may refuse to help. “While I can’t read the language, it looks to me like it’s some kind of encyclopedia of rare artifacts.” She’d seen the collection on the shelves in his office. Perhaps that was why Victor was reading it, and his interest had nothing to do with demon spirits. Regardless, Victor had other things on his plate at the moment. Marcus, the least of his concerns.
“Which page did you need translated?”
Dove held her breath and flipped to the spot she’d bookmarked. “This one.” She pointed to the page with the strange emblem. “I was thinking I might work the design into my next art project, but figured I better find out more about it first.” Gah. She hated lying to her friend, but what other choice did she have?
Celeste cast her a dubious look and shrugged. “I’ll try, but some of this may not translate to English. Do you have something to write on?”
“Sure.” Dove retrieved her sketchbook and pencil.
Two hours later, Celeste rose from her chair, stretching her arms over her head and groaning. “I hate book work. I’m much better at compounds and casting. Though even with that, I lean more toward wrinkle cream and love potions these days.”
“Is it done?” Dove gasped, sitting upright in bed. Hovering over Celeste’s shoulder had been a no-no and earned her pinched boob.
“I think so.”
Dove sidled next to her, and Celeste wrapped her in a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you called me before duplicating this in a piece of artwork. By the goddess, that would have been a disaster.”
“Really?” Dove grunted, short on air.
Celeste released her, slid the translation across the table, and jabbed her finger at the emblem on the page. “This is a drawing of a Keres stone. Conjurors use them to capture demon spirits called shades and channel them into hosts. Though I imagine it works on other spirits as well.”
Dove swallowed the lump in her throat. “What does it say about the shade?”
“That they’re incorporeal creatures, which is probably why there isn’t a picture of them here. It claims they’re bound to a higher power. Believed only to exist in the prison realm in the city of Carcerem. Their sole purpose is to channel energy to their master.”
“Sounds like they’re solar panels for their evil overlords.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “And this energy, where does it come from?”
“When they can’t generate enough on their own, they take it from other creatures, absorbing their life force.”
Dove’s insides withered. It was her worst nightmare made real. “Shades are soul ravagers.”
Celeste shivered. “Of the worst kind. They’re said to have gifts to aid them in this task. Powers over shadows and light. Sounds to me like they’re the monster in your closet. Really creepy stuff.”
There was no crime worse than the destruction of souls. “That’s awful,” Dove choked. Surely, this had to be a mistake. No way Shadow was a reaper. Even if he was, he’d given no indication he served some soul-slurping master.
“My suggestion, find another muse for your next project.”
“I will,” Dove muttered, her mind racing while her heart sank in her chest. “Is there any way to stop them? To prevent them from feeding on souls?”
“Not that I see here. Though it’s possible some of the information was lost in my translation. After all, I’m a witch, not a linguist.”
“That’s okay. You’ve been more than helpful.”
“Dove,” Celeste said, her voice soft with concern. “What’s really going on here? I mean, with the warding you needed, both here and on the island. Now this. Have you seen one of these things? Is this the spirit who’s been harassing you?”
Dove flitted a hand. “It’s just a project I’m working on for a friend.” Not a lie. More or less.
“Honey, you know I’m here for you, regardless.” Celeste grasped her hands, her expression earnest. “I realize you’re a skilled necromancer, but taking on something like this is beyond even your abilities. You’d be better off if you reported it to the Council and got the officials involved. We’re talking demon possession and soul ravaging. If you’re caught up in this, there could be big time repercussions. Not to mention how dangerous it would be to you personally.”
Images of Shadow-Steele with the spirit in the security room flashed in her mind. The darkness that appeared to swallow the apparition. Then again in Doc’s medical facility. It seemed he’d drawn Adam’s essence right out of his body. Dread curdled her stomach, and she fought to keep her spaghetti dinner down.
Not wanting to betray Marcus, she summoned every crumb of that ever-so-valuable improv class she’d taken. “It’s nothing so dire as all that.” She fluttered a hand. “Just morbid curiosity.”
Celeste stared at her, seeming unconvinced. “If you say so.” She smoothed a dark curl beneath her headscarf, eyes gleaming. “Now that’s done, tell me more about this fight.”
“I don’t know all the details yet, but Bishop intends to compete at the casino next weekend. It’s also sort of a milestone for Marcus, him returning to the casino, making a public appearance.” With so much at stake, this was the absolute worst time to tell him he may be host to a soul reaper.
“Wow, that is a big deal.” Celeste’s face took on a dreamy expression. “Mmm, Bishop in the ring, bare-chested and sweaty, showing off all that powerful lycan muscle.” She straightened, grabbing Dove’s arms. “Please take me with you to the fight. Please. Please. Please.”
Dove couldn’t help but snicker. Apparently, this infatuation with Bishop went beyond a simple crush. “Look who’s a fangirl. You’ve got it bad.”
“In the worst way,” Celeste whined, shimmying like a potty-training toddler.
How was Dove to say no to that? “I’ll speak to Marcus.”
Celeste squealed and wrapped her in a hug, bouncing. “You’re my favorite faerie person of all time.” She released her, beaming. “I can’t wait. I’ll need a new outfit. Something fabulous, but maybe not too fabulous. I don’t want to distract Bishop from his opponent.”
“Yes, that would be bad. I can’t wait either.” If everything went according to plan, that would be the night they finally captured Helen. There was so much riding on them pulling this off. If they failed, she shuddered to think how it would affect Marcus. Already he seemed to walk the line between man and monster. Losing Helen again may push him over the edge. No way Dove could let that happen.
Shade discussions would have to wait.
Marcus closedthe lid over the grand piano’s harp to muffle the sound and sat on the bench. Sleep eluded him. Though both Bishop and Celeste had left hours ago, Dove hadn’t sought him out, instead retreating to her own bedroom. There was a time he enjoyed the solitude of his penthouse. Tonight, the silence was deafening.
He set his fingers on the gleaming keys. It had been far too long since he’d played. Long before his accident, even. The familiar melody rolled out beneath his fingers. His hands took over, detached from his mind. Mournful notes took shape, found a rhythm, and the music swelled. Troubled thoughts evaporated, and he became one with the song.
Clothing rustled, bare feet padding along the hardwood floor, moving to his side. Dove’s sweet fragrance teased his senses. He brought the piece to an end and scanned her silk-clad body. Like him, she was dressed for bed, wearing a flowered turquoise chemise with an angular hem. One thin strap secured the bodice around her neck. The effect like she was wrapped in a hankie. The colorful fabric clung to her curves in all the right places.
“You play beautifully,” she said, voice soft.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You should have come to me.” Censure slipped into his voice. He cursed the needy quality of his tone. In his life, he’d wanted a great number of things. What he’d wanted, he’d taken. He’d never needed anything. This unquenchable thirst he had for her was unsettling.
“I was unsure of what my place was. Now we’re back at your penthouse.”
He thought he’d made it clear at his ancestral home. Was she having second thoughts? Was that the reason for her distance this evening? “Well, then, allow me to clear up any confusion.”
He slid back on the bench, drew her in, and sat her down between his thighs. “This is where you belong. With me.” To his delight, she leaned against him, exhaling a soft sigh.
“I believe this was one of your favorites.” He reached around her, set his fingers to the keys, and played the intro to “Heart and Soul.”Dove’s laughter filled his senses. She placed her hand on the keyboard, adding the melody.
When they played the final notes, he nuzzled his nose to her ear, whispering, “Play for me.”
“I only know a couple of intermediate pieces,” she murmured. “What do you want to hear?”
“Something slow.”
“Okay.” She set her hands on the keys, playing the first few measures of “Für Elise.” She played at a quarter of the usual speed, the melody sounding more like a lullaby.
He skimmed his palms up her thighs, smiling when she sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?” She stumbled over the next note, the sound stabbing and painful.
“Don’t stop playing,” he warned, voice a husky rumble. “If you stop, I stop.”
“Such a taskmaster,” she purred, her graceful hands gliding along the keyboard.
He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, breathing in her sweet jasmine scent while caressing the inside of her thighs. She tilted her head to give him better access. His fingers roamed higher, grazing her center. Dove gasped, her fingers clunking on the keys. When she faltered, he stilled, warning, “You stop, I stop.”
Shadows thickened beneath them. His demon rose, though Shadow’s conscience stayed in the background.
“Oh, that is so unfair,” she groaned, picking up her song where she left off.
“I thought you enjoyed the games we play,” he said, his voice dark, thick with shadows.
“Steele?” She stiffened, going cold in his arms.
“I’m here,” he promised. Yes, the spirit was present, but not in control. His demon, his wingman, knew better than to interrupt his time with Dove. Still, could this be the reason she’d withdrawn from him?
He trailed one hand up her flank to her breast and teased a circle around her hardened nipple. “Have you grown to fear me, sweet Dove?” His chest tightened, and he held his breath.
She tensed in his embrace. “What? No, of course not. It’s just, at Claymore, with Adam…”
“You know I would never harm you.” He’d sooner cut out his own heart. The revelation stunned him. How did this slip of a faerie come to mean so much to him?
She abandoned her playing, stood, and turned in his arms. “I know that.” She cupped his jaw in her soft hands. “Nor would I ever harm you.”
His lips curled, and he fought a smile at the fierce expression on her beautiful face. “Good, glad that’s settled.” He ran his palms up the back of her silken thighs, hooked her panties beneath his thumbs, and glided them down her legs. Dove gazed down at him, eyes gleaming with anticipation. She rubbed his bare shoulders, fingertips caressing both halves of him equally. It was then he realized he’d felt no need to hide nor cover himself when he’d abandoned his bed, prowling his penthouse in black sleep pants. He’d given zero thought to his appearance. Nor had she, other than to gaze at him with desire and perhaps something more. His Chosen, his female, his twinkling star in the darkness. She really was too good to be true.
He stood, clasping her to him and setting her on the piano. Dove uttered a startled noise as she set her bare feet on the keys, striking an inharmonic note.
She offered him a seductive grin that sent a jolt of heat straight to his shaft. “Shall I play you a tune with my toes, Lord Steele?”
He wedged himself between her knees, grasped the back of her neck, and grated against her mouth, “Only if you scream my name as you do so.” He smashed his lips against hers, swallowing her gasp. She tasted of moonlight and stardust, everything that was shining and bright in the night sky. He wanted more of that light. Needed her to illuminate the dark shadows of his soul.
But before he could take, he must give.
He tore his mouth from hers, and she mewed a sound of protest until he nuzzled her throat. Breathed in her scent. Kissed a path between her breast. Exhaled a hot breath against her rounded stomach. With eager hands, he pushed her silken gown up over her thighs, baring the most delectable of treats.
Her feminine core called to him, slick folds glistening in the moonlight. This female desired him. Wanted him. Just as he was. Dove watched with bated breath. Slim fingers glided through his hair, massaging his scalp. Her touch reverent.
“Please, Marcus,” she begged, and he was undone. He’d give her anything if she asked, and yet he knew she yearned for nothing material. This, however…
He nuzzled her center, taking in her feminine scent. Primal urges rose within. He wanted her fragrance on his skin. To mark himself.
“As you wish,” he murmured, tonguing her honeyed flesh.
“Marcus.” Her gasp was sweet music to his ears. He made love to the very heart of her. She lay back on the glossy piano, hips writhing, arms over her head. Dove, in the throes of passion, was a sight he wanted to burn into his mind. A memory he wanted scarred into his flesh so he could gaze upon it whenever he desired. This treasure, indeed, would make him a rich man.
“So fast. I’m close,” she cried. Her heels struck the keyboard, strings humming, but he didn’t hear the notes, only the need in her voice. “Almost. Almost. There!” She arched her back, hips rocking in his grasp.
He saw her through her orgasm, bringing her down with light touches.
His cock throbbed, eager to share her release. Soon.
“Help me up. My muscles are noodles.” She reached for him and he grasped her shoulders, drawing her up to face him. He kissed her long and deep. Drowning in her bliss. He wanted her to catch her unique flavor on his lips. To know she’d marked him.
“You beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, man,” she praised. Her words sweet against his lips. She tore her mouth from his. Kissed his cheek, his nose, his brow.
“Down, please.” She wiggled in his grasp. He’d have given her anything she wanted in that moment.
Slim fingers thrust beneath the waistband of his pants. Shoved the material down his legs. He kicked his feet free, canting his head. “New game?”
She planted her hands on his shoulders, urging him back onto the bench. She placed her knees on either side of his hips, straddling him.
“New game,” she said in a husky voice that shot a bolt of heat straight to his rigid cock.
“Well, in that case…” He grabbed the hem of her shift and whisked it over her head. “I think it’s only fair we start on even ground.”
“No ground is stable near you,” Dove whispered against his lips. She grasped his shaft, guided it to her heat, and sank down over him. His eyes rolled back. His hips surged with a mind of their own. Wait. She was still speaking? He picked up pieces of her conversation. “No stable ground. Just mountains, fishers, whirlpools, tornados.” With every declaration, she thrust her hips, rocking against him.
“Shhh,” he murmured against her lips. “No more talk. Just feel. Feel me.”
“I feel you,” she moaned, rocking faster. He grasped her hips, guiding, urging, thrusting.
Heat gathered at the base of his shaft, his testicles tightening. The vampire in him rose to the surface. Fangs scraped his lips. I will mark her. Claim her. She is mine.
He tongued the vein in her neck.
“Do it. Please,” she begged.
He was helpless to resist. Yes, he would take from her. Give and take.
“Sweet Dove.” Her name, a saccharine entreaty on his tongue. He pierced her flesh, and ambrosia kissed his palate. Faerie blood. There was nothing else like it in the world. Many desired the power flowing in her veins, and yet, she was his. Only his. Fire licked his cock, and he erupted.
“Yes! Marcus!” Dove shouted. Her silken walls clenched his throbbing shaft, and he gave while he took, drawing deep from her vein. “My queen. I am yours,” the demon whispered, and his primal side fought for dominance, raising its head. And she is mine.
In that sweet moment of bliss, both sides of him were appeased. Because of one woman.
Dove shuddered, falling limp against him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Savage urges rose within. Possessive urges. Fates save the person who tried to take her from him.
This female was his. Body, heart, and soul.
And yet, she owned all of him.
With Dove, he’d never been more vulnerable.
May the gods have mercy should she ever stomp on his faith. He might have survived the destruction of his body, but he’d not survive the destruction of his soul.
Dove draggedher mind from the depths of her dream, forcing her eyes open. Spiderwebs of bitter emotions clung to her psyche. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Tears wet her face.
“You are unwell?” said a smokey voice.
After Marcus made love to her a second time in his bed, she’d fallen asleep with her cheek on his shoulder, her leg thrown over his thigh. Nothing had ever felt so right.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, wiping her tears. She peered up at him and sucked a breath. Scars marred the left side of his face and his pupil glowed red.
“Steele?”
“Your mate sleeps,” Shadow said, his scarred brow furrowed.
This wasn’t Steele. Nor Shadow-Steele. Just Shadow. The fog cleared in an instant. “Marcus isn’t my mate.”
Shadow smirked, glancing down at their naked bodies.
Her cheeks warmed and she eased away, tucking the sheet between them. “I thought the two of you had an agreement.”
“Yes.” His expression darkened. “I sensed your pain.”
The demon sensed her? Okaaay. This situation was getting more awkward by the minute. “I had a bad dream.”
“Dream?”
It occurred to her an incorporeal being would be unfamiliar with the concept. “It’s images that play in your mind when you sleep. Some are good, some bad.”
“This was bad.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
She exhaled a heavy breath. Why not? “Marcus and I stood on top of a mountain of bodies. Those below us were lifeless. Soulless.” She shook her head, banishing the horrifying image. “There’s something I need to know. The spirits you’ve encountered. First, the security guard. Then Adam. What happened to them?”
“Gone.”
“Gone how? Did you ravage their souls?” She dared to ask, though she feared the answer.
His brow furrowed. “They threatened you.”
Icy dread flooded her veins, and she shivered. “That’s a yes.”
“You are displeased?”
She sat up, clutching the sheet over her breasts. “Listen. I appreciate you protecting me, but destroying a soul is unacceptable.”
His energy darkened, thickening the air. “Reaping makes us strong.”
Us meaning him? Meaning their strange triangle? She rubbed her temples. When she’d tethered Adam’s spirit to his corpse, she’d never been so strong. Had Shadow lent her his stolen power? Was she his master? No, no, no. That was silly.
Regardless, the book was right. Shadow confirmed her worst nightmare. Her demonic spirit was a shade. The shade was a soul ravager. “You’ll need to find another way.”
“No other way. Necessary. I am not alone.”
She swallowed. “Are there other shades here?”
“Yesss.”
Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse. “How many? Who do they serve?”
“I do not know. I serve you.”
“Me?” she squeaked. “Not Marcus?”
“We are bound by blood. I am yours.”
Her brain cracked open like an egg. The golden yolk, broken and runny. “Hold up. How exactly are we bound in blood?” Her breath caught. “Oh dear. You mean the Chosen bond.”
“Your mate rises.” He closed his eyes, exhaling. Marcus’s scarred cheek smoothed. Her vampire resurfaced.
Dirty rat. That was way too convenient. “Shadow. Wait! Get back here. I have more—”
Marcus blinked and peered up at her, frowning when he found her sitting beside him. “What’s wrong?”
Everything! So much. So much was very wrong. Marcus was possessed by a soul ravager. According to Shadow, consuming those souls was necessary to defeat their enemies. Every soul he absorbed made him stronger. Problem was, Marcus was a vampire. When a vampire killed while feeding, it led to blood lust. There was a good chance consuming souls would make him hungrier for more. Where did it stop?
Worse, Dove had helped train the pair. That made her responsible for everything. Tears welled in her eyes. This was what happened when she got involved. When she stuck her nose into someone else’s business, things went wrong. So wrong. “I had a bad dream.” And woke to a nightmare.
“Come here.” He grabbed her arm and drew her into his side. Dove wept against his chest. “You’re okay now. Do you want to tell me about it?”
More than anything, but where to begin? They already had so much to worry about with the upcoming fight. After speaking with Shadow, she feared the weight of it all may crush her. “No. I’m better. Let’s get some sleep.” Once Helen was captured and the fight over, she’d tell him everything.
She just prayed he was still Marcus in the end.