Chapter Six
Hack
What the actual fuck?
I’m frozen in place, trying to put all the puzzle pieces together, but my brain is stuck on the unmoving woman staring right back at me.
Something isn’t adding up. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work, and as much as I trust the Moirai and their infinite knowledge, coincidence isn’t in the cards of our fates. Ever.
The soul I came to fetch escaped me when I walked out of the shop then returned in my anthros form, and to be honest, I can’t bring myself to give a fuck. This is more important. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.
Maybe I’m hallucinating, but even as the thought pops in, I know for a fact that’s not the case.
My body and mind are in perfect harmony, one hundred percent healthy at all times, as is the way for supernatural beings like us.
We’re powerful demons, not anthros in a constant state of decline once they reach their peak at twenty years old.
We do not hallucinate, unless pixie dust is involved, and we do not forget.
So, I try again.
“Aiyana?” The single word escapes my mouth like a prayer, the breath dancing on my lips and bringing back memories from thousands of years ago.
I know it’s her. From the long curtain of black hair rippling over her shoulders like waves in the ocean, to the regal high cheekbones currently tinged in pink, I see her.
I see her full lips parted, her chest rising and falling with every inhale.
I see the long, tan column of her neck I spent hours worshipping on those endless star-gazing nights.
Despite all the similarities, it’s her eyes that finally give me the answers I seek. One hazel, penetrating straight through to my soul, and the left an icy blue so spellbinding I find myself mesmerized by its intensity. My mismatched beauty is back.
As our gazes clash, my body moves without my mind commanding it. My feet eviscerate the space between us and when I finally reach her, my palms cup her head, thumbs pressing against her jaw. I don’t take the time to look at her. I don’t stop to ask questions. I just act on pure instinct.
When my lips crash into hers, I’m hit with it.
It’s there. That warm feeling of completion takes over my entire being as my mouth devours her with a two-thousand-year-old hunger.
Pressed fully against her, I kiss her with my entire body, ignoring every other entity in this room, or this city, or this fucking continent.
I kiss her like my life has renewed meaning.
I cherish her in my arms—fucking finally—feeling whole again, alive again.
Feeling everything I did the first time, in each of her lives.
Fear catches up with me as those memories bring with them the horrors of losing her.
The agony of searching for her on the night of All Hallows.
Every year. It’s when the veil is at its thinnest and the only day of the year I ever find her.
The few times throughout history that I was able to catch sight of her or spend time with her wrapped around me, she always died mere days later.
Regretting my next move before I’ve even taken a step back, I keep my hands on her jaw and allow my first real smile to take over my face.
It’s her, there’s no mistaking it. Maybe this life will be different?
After all, it’s not Halloween, I wasn’t searching for her.
The pull I feel when the veil is thin wasn’t there when I came into the shop to collect the soul.
It’s mid-August right now, so this was an accident. No. This is the Moirai bringing us together. It has to be.
Except, I can’t be sure, can I? Nothing is guaranteed and if I lose her again after all this time, it’ll break me. I have to protect her at all costs.
“Aiyana, we can’t—” I don’t have time to finish my warning before the hot sting of flesh against flesh burns my cheek. It’s not the pain that shocks me, it’s the gesture itself.
She fucking slapped me.
“We’re just gonna go…” The tiny woman with the patchouli scent—I still have post-traumatic stress from the sixties and seventies—waves goodbye and walks out with who I’m guessing is her son.
The thought that he’s the key to the slippery soul I came here to collect is fleeting, because I don’t actually give a fuck at this moment.
“How dare you come in here and put your hands on me.” Right.
She has no idea who I am. Of course she doesn’t.
Reincarnation of souls doesn’t allow for memory to follow.
At least not all at once and definitely not right away.
I’m so consumed by her presence and her aura that I forgot the simple logistics of how all of this works.
Before I have time to apologize, the female with bright red hair is suddenly standing between my Aiyana and me, eyes burning with uncontrolled rage.
I take a step back, keeping my gaze on this woman, and notice she’s wearing contacts.
Cocking my head to the side, I allow a sinister smirk to pop up at the corner of my mouth.
“My apologies.” With my hands up in surrender, I take a second step away from the love of my existence and bow my head to the protector. I need to regroup anyway. “I meant no harm.”
The urge to go back, pick up Aiyana, and throw her over my shoulder so I can take her back to my home is monumental. I have to fight within myself to keep my hands off her. Even Cirrus is warring against this decision, I can feel his hoof thumping in ire.
Despite going against my very nature, I have to consider this may be the best course of action. Up until today, we’d always met on one specific day, which leads me to believe that maybe, just maybe, we have a chance at surviving this life.
If not, well, I’ll live another two or three decades searching for her soul.
I’m about to destroy everything in my motherfucking house, starting with the kitchen where I’m carving a path from my pacing back and forth.
Grabbing the first thing that I see, I launch it across the fucking room and watch, with ruthless satisfaction, as it lands against the far wall and splinters into a million pieces.
I don’t even regret that it was my favorite whiskey glass.
I do, however, regret that it didn’t satisfy my need to break shit.
Regrouping isn’t going well.
I take the plates in the cupboard and throw them, one by fucking one, against that same wall. The image of Aiyana, as beautiful as she is, looking at me with such contempt has my entire body trembling with pent up rage. Why would the Moirai do this to me? To us?
Why would they place her in my path only to make it impossible for me to be with her? Every fucking time, something keeps us apart, and this time is no better.
The constant shattering sound of stoneware against my brick walls isn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d hoped.
Time to up my game.
Instead of taking my time through the kitchen and down to the fully furnished basement, I haul ass straight to my indoor gym.
It’s where I keep my hunting equipment, my favorite bow and arrows, which I throw over my shoulder before heading back out.
The gym is the size of my living room, one of them at least, and has all the equipment needed to keep me busy in our off time.
I don’t need to work out to stay fit, I do it to keep me sane and occupied.
Will going hunting on our property keep my mind from reeling? Fuck no. Will it keep me from going back to New York through the portal on our property and kidnapping my chosen one? Maybe.
The four of us bought this land because it ticked all of our boxes: Temperate weather with four distinct seasons, mountains and a water source so we can spend our energy without getting ourselves into trouble with our Dei, and space large enough for our living comfort without the risk of nosy neighbors—bonus points for the number of those being exactly zero, nosy or otherwise.
Even if we did have neighbors, our wooded area with surrounding walls high enough to give anthros the fear of heights is enough to keep prying eyes away.
Not to mention, we needed space to keep our horses, the real warm-blooded ones, so Pierce can care for them.
Where Slash, Slay, and I are hungry for brutality due to our primal needs, Pierce is the caregiver.
Conquest, War, and Death are bred from violence, while Famine is a constant state of torture that he wants to eliminate.
That being said, there’s nothing weak about our brother, he simply cares for more than just himself.
As I burrow inside the dark, green forest, I contemplate the idea of letting my demon side have its fun, of letting my demon form take control with the unbreakable vines that grow from the very fiber of my muscles into deadly weapons, but I decide against it.
Here’s the thing. My end goal is to stay here, give Aiyana the time she needs to maybe contemplate, analyze, and accept what just happened in her shop this afternoon. The time to accept what is written between the lines of our destiny is now.
She’s mine. She’s been mine for the last two thousand years, give or take a decade or two, and I’ll be damned if I let this opportunity slip between my fingers.
It doesn’t mean I’m going to take a page out of Slash’s handbook and throw out all impulse control. Neither am I going to emulate Slay and walk away from all social interactions, letting fate play out on its own schedule.
No, this time, I’m asking myself what Pierce would do. The answer is glaring and self-evident. My brother would give her space and time, maybe reach out and ease himself back into her world. He would make sure she’s safe and feels comfortable before trying to make contact with her again.
I nod to myself as I spot a hare reaching up on its hind legs, sniffing the air for predators. There’s no doubt he can sense me, the demon in anthros clothing, but he’s not sure what to make of it.