Pretty Little Death (Fated Mate Bonds #3)

Chapter 1

one

MERRILY

I let out a slow breath as I dropped my fuzzy, light pink duffel bag in front of the massive double doors of the unfamiliar mansion. Every inch of my body itched, as if bugs were crawling over my skin.

Even after centuries of the hell I lived daily, I still had to silently remind myself that nothing was there.

On top of the itching, my heartbeat had picked up.

Sounds seemed louder than they were.

Action was more difficult than it should’ve been.

I was fiercely regretting my decision to show up there, and I hadn't even made it through the front door.

Er, doors.

All I'd managed to do was carry my duffel bag from my car—and my best friend was the one who had driven that car.

Yet I was overwhelmed.

Like always.

I let out another slow breath, fighting the instinct to shrink. To slowly lower myself into a ball on the cracked tile outside the massive glass doors. To pull my blanket out of that stupid duffel bag and wrap it around myself.

To leave.

But even leaving was more than I could handle. There was no way I could drive now. I would have to ask Darius to come back if I wanted to go.

Before he left, he had tried to convince me to let him carry my bag to the door. I should've let him, but I'd refused. It didn't seem like a great idea to show up at my fated mate's house with my best friend carrying my things.

But he’d been right. Carrying the bag had set off my overstimulation already.

I’d be fine, though.

I just needed to stick to my plan.

It was a good, detailed plan.

I slowly pulled my phone from the pocket of my duffel bag and opened the note I had prepared for this situation. When I got this overwhelmed, thinking was an impossibility. My brain was too focused on survival.

Plan: Get to Grayson's bedroom

When overwhelm occurs, just push through it long enough to reach his room. His room will relax you.

Someone will bring your bag eventually if you can't carry it.

Go straight down the main hall until you reach a large staircase. Then up to the top floor.

His space is through a door directly to the left at the top of the stairs.

Right.

This was expected.

It was going to be okay.

I let out another long breath, fighting the urge to scratch a particularly bad itch on my left thigh as I stepped forward and opened the door.

My family and I all lived in mansions, but Grayson Darke's home was on an entirely different level.

It was more like a small, very flashy luxury hotel.

All four of the demon royals lived there, smack in the middle of the Shadow District.

There had been constant drama between the four of them for the last eleven years.

Unlike my family, they weren't keeping the city alive, safe, and functioning, so they only had two seats on the Cabinet.

Hence the drama.

It was a constant power struggle, one I didn't envy in the slightest. My life was enough of a struggle.

I stepped inside the mansion.

I only left my house when I had to. It was too difficult for me, given the overwhelm I faced on a daily basis. Hell, on a constant basis. The best I could hope for was an hour or two of clarity every day. On the best days, I felt okay for a solid four hours.

So, I'd never seen the interior of the mansion before. But I had looked up pictures.

A life with Grayson in this battleground of a mansion sounded even worse than what I dealt with because of my magic. Which was part of the reason why I'd be making an agreement with him and returning to my own home.

I wasn't entirely sure what he wanted from me, but I'd been warned by his assassin that he was planning to abduct me.

I wouldn't handle an unscheduled abduction well.

Not that I would handle a scheduled abduction any better.

My emotions could overwhelm me just as easily as anything else, if I wasn't careful.

I was careful, though. Usually.

I looked up and down a hallway, far too overwhelmed to notice the way everything was white. The tile. The walls. The furniture, too. It was an excessive amount of white.

My heartbeat was somehow still picking up.

New places were difficult for me. The pictures I'd looked up, along with a copy of the floorplan my assistant had managed to get her hands on, made me slightly more comfortable. But not much.

I walked down the hallway, keeping my feet fixed on the space in front of me. I heard sounds from a few people who must've noticed me, but I ignored them. Greeting them was an impossibility. It would take everything I had just to reach the bedroom without losing my shit.

No one tried to stop me, of course. I protected women too violently for my reputation not to precede me, particularly in a house full of demon royals.

I put one foot after another, and forced myself to keep walking. My phone was in my hand, but I'd spent enough time holding it that it didn't overstimulate me the way most things did.

It felt like a lifetime passed before I found the massive staircase.

Staring up at it, I let out a slow, soft breath.

There were a lot of stairs.

How the fuck was I going to make it to the top?

I looked down at the plan on my phone.

There was no strategy, despite the shaking in my legs and the nausea in my stomach and the invisible bugs still crawling on my skin. Just me, and the stairs.

Why did everything have to feel so impossible?

I put my foot on the bottom step, and—

A pair of hands grabbed my waist.

I made a sound of surprise as someone hauled me into the air, spun me around, and draped me over their shoulder.

Shadows danced around us as my world continued spinning, my stomach clenching violently as nausea rose with a fiery vengeance, and—

A massive, warm hand slipped beneath my soft, lightweight shirt and rested on my lower back. The moment the skin touched mine, everything changed.

My nausea disappeared.

The spinning stopped.

My panic dissipated.

Even those nonexistent bugs were gone.

The sound of relief that escaped me was nearly a sob. My eyes burned in response to the simple, quiet ease that wrapped around me. Shadows licked at my skin, and I closed my eyes, trying to relish every moment of the silent simplicity.

Nothing felt difficult, in this moment.

Everything felt okay.

I'd never experienced that before, but fuck, I'd kill for it.

Here it was—another reason I hadn't allowed myself to hunt down Grayson Darke. Because I'd known intrinsically that the moment I realized how easy life could be, I'd struggle even more to function under the price of my power.

I'd planned on having a conversation with him about it before he touched me. I’d wanted time and a careful strategy to develop some sort of defense.

But of course Grayson hadn't bothered with a plan.

When I opened my eyes, I finally noticed how blindingly white everything was. The demon royals kept their mansion bright enough that no one could hide their shadows, or hide in any shadows.

"I was going to abduct you," Grayson remarked, climbing the stairs effortlessly. I wasn't even sure I could've made it to the top without him.

"I wasn't interested in being abducted."

"It would've been fun."

"Fun for you, maybe." I would've had a meltdown.

Though, he could've just taken my hand when I started losing my shit. Maybe it would've been doable after all.

He reached the top of the stairs, and I heard the buttons on a keypad beeping.

There must've been a passcode on the door. I hadn't considered that in my plan, and it definitely would've caused me problems. I'd tried to drain the life from batteries in the past, but it had never worked.

I let my gaze move over his back. He was shirtless and sweaty, wearing just a pair of colorful, loose workout shorts that fell to the middle of his thighs, and his usual baseball cap.

The tribal tattoo I knew every inch of was on his shoulder, chest, and bicep, on the opposite side from where he held me.

I tried not to stare at his ass, which I knew just as well as the tattoo.

It didn't work. He had a fantastic ass.

I noticed my bag hanging from his shoulder. It was nowhere near as difficult for him to carry as it was for me.

Grayson stepped into his room, shutting and locking the door behind us.

I looked out at the space. It was basically a massive, luxury apartment. He had a giant living room, two huge bedrooms, three oversized bathrooms, and a monstrous kitchen.

One of the bedrooms was empty, the door always closed, but I'd seen it in my dreams. He said he had no use for it.

I'd pictured a library in it, not that I'd ever told him as much. I couldn't read physical books, given the price of my magic. I'd still imagined myself sitting on a couch beside the demon king while we read together.

He didn't read, though. Not that I knew of.

He was constantly on the go, rarely in his room, and certainly would never have the time required to sit around with me even if he did. If I wanted freedom from the personal hell that my magic was, I would have to follow him around like a sad puppy.

Being alone sounded better than that.

I already had no idea how I was going to cope when he put me down, let alone afterward. As soon as he stopped touching me, everything would come rushing back, and I'd lose my shit completely.

But Grayson didn't put me down.

He dropped my bag near the couch and plopped down on the cushions, pulling me onto his lap.

His hand remained on my lower back as my ass landed on his thighs, and I could feel his erection between us.

Our eyes locked as I sat up, and I swear my hair stood on end. He was overwhelmingly gorgeous in my dreams, but the real-life version of him was something else entirely. All tan skin, thick muscle, and gorgeous green eyes.

I wanted him.

I always fucking wanted him.

"What could possibly have turned you on in the two minutes since you threw me over your shoulder like a caveman?" I asked, only slightly huffy as I tipped my head back so I could meet his gaze.

His lips curved lazily. "I'm sure you'd like to know."

"That’s why I asked."