Chapter 3
Elowyn
It had been two days since my party to find a husband… two days since I told Abram to leave me alone and he listened. But it didn’t stop the thoughts of why he was here. My body practically buzzed at the memory of him holding me against him as we danced or the way his fingers undid my dress.
“Are you alright?” Belion asked.
My gaze lifted to the man who looked too much like Abram, and my stomach clenched tight.
I couldn’t marry him. There was no way I could look at Belion without thinking of Abram.
Worse, he wasn’t even as polite as he’d been at the party.
Belion was arrogant and pushy. My gaze moved over his face, and my stomach sank.
Abram’s shadow would haunt every glance I gave Belion.
“Yes.”
“So, when we get married, I know you said the coven was not my business, but I’d like to be involved.”
My chest tightened. This was not going well. We had agreed to a date, and already he was talking about marriage, negotiating terms as if I had already agreed.
“What—why?” I glared.
“I can help with big decisions. It’d be nice to be king of the coven. We could make changes, grow, make sure it’s doing what it should.”
“No,” I snapped. “The coven is mine. You will have zero involvement.”
He leaned back, his gaze narrowing.
“I’d be king. I’d have final say.”
I laughed and pushed to my feet. This prick.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I’ve seen all I need. I refuse to marry you. And do you realize queens have more authority than kings in covens? Women are the final say. You just proved to me I don’t want to do this with you.”
Before I could react, he stood and slapped me.
The taste of blood filled my mouth, jarring me for a moment.
The sting wasn’t just on my skin, it sank into my chest, a flash of shame burning hotter than the pain.
Was this what my life would look like if I chose wrong?
Bruises hidden beneath silk sleeves and smiles forced through split lips?
But when he raised his hand to strike again, my mind spoke a spell faster than his arm. My magic grabbed hold of his wrist and snapped it. He collapsed to the floor, crying out in pain. Witches burst into the room to see what happened, but I just stood over the weeping man, smiling.
“Remove Belion from the premises. Ward the grounds so he can never step foot here again. If he does, it will snap his fucking neck.”
I locked eyes with him as I gave the order. He was livid, but pain forced him upright, and he left without another word. I turned and stormed outside, my chest tight as I hurried through the forest to escape the home that now felt like a prison.
I didn’t stop until I reached the river. The rush of water calmed me as I dropped to my knees among the flowers. My eyes burned with exhaustion. My duty to the coven was crushing me—slowly killing me.
Neither of the men from the party had been good matches. Now, I had no one to choose from. I lifted my face toward the darkening sky.
“I beg the moon to show me what to do. I want to save my coven, but I don’t want to be miserable forever. Please, show mercy. Lift my curse so I can find my true mate. Please show him to me.”
Rustling behind me drew my attention. I smelled it before I saw him—night and smoke. Abram.
“What?” I asked. “I’m starting to think you’re a godsdamn stalker.”
“Easy, little weaver. You called for me.” He sighed, stepping out from behind a tree.
“No, I didn’t.”
He smiled.
“You did. Maybe you didn’t notice.” His gaze landed on my face, and his smile vanished. “Why is your cheek red like that?”
I touched my sore cheek, unwilling to admit it. He moved closer, his eyes flashing red.
“Who did that to you?”
“Belion,” I whispered. “The man who looked like you.”
Abram didn’t blink. His jaw tightened once, hard, and the air around us fractured.
He disappeared as soon as the name left my mouth, and I was left by myself again.
I picked at some flower petals as I brought my emotions back under control and had just managed to catch my breath again when a sudden flash of Abram’s magic blinded me, and then Belion’s body hit the dirt at my feet.
He cried out, broken and bloody. Abram’s eyes burned red, his jaw locked, his magic swirling in a violent storm.
Fuck, he looked good.
A shiver crawled over my skin, not fear exactly, but something sharper, something that left me breathless. The God of Fates was danger wrapped in flesh, and yet every part of me leaned closer, drawn like a moth to fire.
His eyes found mine, dark and knowing.
“What the fuck?” Belion shouted. His gaze darted between us. “I fucking knew it.”
I wasn’t sure what he thought he knew, but Abram didn’t give him the chance to explain. He kicked Belion hard in the shoulder, sending him crashing down.
“You’re going to kneel at her feet and apologize.” His jaw flexed once, tight enough to show restraint, before his gaze lifted to me, dark and unreadable.
“For what?” Belion spat.
“Oh, you must be blind. Forgetful too. Let me remind you.” Abram yanked him up by the neck, forcing him to look at my cheek.
“That.” His hiss was full of venom. “Maybe you need a visual reminder.”
Abram slapped him, hard, exactly as Belion had slapped me.
Belion crumpled, clutching his broken hand. Abram’s heavy gaze noticed his broken wrist. His eyebrows shot up as his gaze slid back to me.
“Did you do that to him, little weaver?”
“Yes.”
“That’s my girl.” He smiled.
My stomach twisted with his praise. His fingers twitched at his side, like he knew he said too much. That small betrayal of his control made my heart stumble.
The words slammed into me, stealing air from my lungs. Heat licked up my throat, traitorous and confusing. He wasn’t mine, and I wasn’t his, but my body didn’t seem to care. My chest ached like I’d been claimed and cursed all at once.
My hands curled into fists, trying to hide the tremble. Abram drove his boot down on Belion’s mangled hand.
Belion screamed to the heavens as Abram trembled with rage, circling him like a predator.
I couldn’t look away.
I knew Abram was a god, but I had never seen him like this—so utterly unrestrained. His wrath-filled eyes met mine, and something seared into me, like he had claimed me with that single look.
He grabbed Belion by the hair, forcing him upright to face me. Belion’s gaze burned with fury.
“Apologize.”
“Fuck you.”
Abram sighed.
“You’re right. You’re not good enough to even speak to her.” His smile cut sharp as he turned to me. “In fact, you’re not good enough to live in the same realm, the same world, the same timeline as my Elowyn.”
Before Belion could speak again, Abram snapped his neck. His body collapsed at my feet, lifeless. My eyes stayed locked on Abram.
“You considered this man for a husband.” His voice still vibrated with anger, now turned on me.
“He was my best choice until today.”
“You have terrible taste if that was your best choice.” His voice dripped with dark distaste.
“Who else am I supposed to marry, Abram?” I snapped.
He stalked closer.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone who actually likes you? Or is that too difficult?”
“You arrogant bastard.”
I spun, heading for the house, but he caught my arm and twisted me back. His body pressed into mine, pinning me to a tree. His hand gripped my jaw—not harshly, but enough to make me meet his eyes.
Every rational thought screamed to shove him away, yet my pulse betrayed me, thundering so hard it hurt. The tree dug into my spine, but all I felt was the unbearable nearness of him, the danger and the promise in equal measure.
“Your duty will tie you to a man who won’t respect you. Belion laid his hands on you, and he was your best option? Wait until you have decent choices for a husband.”
“I don’t have the luxury of waiting, or I lose the coven.”
“Godsdamn it, Elowyn!” His hand raked through his hair, magic sparking in the air. “You think saving your coven is worth selling yourself to a man who sees you as a prize? You’d rather be miserable than—”
“Than what? Wait for a man who’ll treat me well? No man has ever pursued me, Abram. No man has wanted me for me. I will marry out of duty, and maybe if I’m lucky, he’ll be kind. Maybe I’ll learn to love him.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes, anger, disbelief, something else. His hands fisted at his sides, like he was holding back words he couldn’t risk saying.
“You really think no man would kill for a chance with you?” His voice was sharp, almost confused. “Men notice you. You don’t notice them.”
I wanted to tell him I had noticed one. Just one. The one I could never have.
“I notice men,” I lied. “It’s not my fault no one can hold my attention.”
“No one has?” His voice was low, challenging.
“Only once.”
His jaw clenched. I took a breath.
“Then why not him?”
“Because it’s impossible.”
His thumb stroked my jaw without thought, his stare unrelenting.
“Are you really going to give up your happiness for the coven?”
I scoffed.
“Happiness? I don’t even know what that is, Abram. My life has been chains and duty for people who wouldn’t care if I vanished. Happiness doesn’t exist for me. So, yes, I’ll gladly sacrifice it.”
“Little weaver…” His voice softened with pity.
I shoved away from him. He didn’t get to pity me.
He was a god. I had seen Haden and Della, Thea and Cassius, all of them happy, bonded, whole.
That would never be me. My coven hated me for my mother’s sins.
I was cursed to watch others have what I never would—cursed to never be anyone’s first choice, never to be loved.
“Just leave me alone, Abram.”
For a flicker of a moment, his expression cracked, something softer breaking through before he hardened again.
I don’t know if he left first or if I did.
And I didn’t turn to see if he watched me leave.
I needed to get out of there. I needed away from the one man who I desired.
My feet slowed… Abram had made it known to everyone I was the last female he’d ever want, so why couldn’t he leave me the hell alone?
He was always around.
Always hovering.
Always reminding me of what I’ll never get to have. Him.
Back at the coven, the women laughed together in the sitting room. But the moment I stepped inside, silence fell. Laughter turned to whispers. Their happiness shriveled in my presence.
It reminded me of my childhood, standing in corners, watching others smiling with one another and whispering secrets I’d never heard. Always outside. Always forgotten. The ache was old, but it hollowed me out fresh each time.
I backed away. At the stairs, laughter rose again, mocking me. My chest ached to belong, but I did what I always had, kept to myself. In my room, I locked the door, though no one ever came to see me anyway. I crawled into bed, sobbing into my pillow.
Marriage was supposed to save me from this ache. But now, I was terrified it wouldn’t. What if nothing could? I cursed the stars for making the only man I’d ever wanted Abram, a god who could have anyone.
I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom. My lonely life flashing in front of my eyes. I did not want my life to be like this. The ache in my chest made me wonder what love might feel like. How would it feel knowing that I had someone who loved me, who enjoyed my presence. I had not had that before.
Gods, even my mother hadn’t had time for me and my father….
I shook the thought away.
Fuck this.
I wouldn’t tie myself to the wrong man. What if I had chosen Belion, and he hit me again, forever? My stomach churned at the thought.
I stared at my hands. I couldn’t do this alone.
Belion had been the sign. I couldn’t marry any of the men I’d found. So I’d ask the moon and the fates to bring me someone else. Someone who was kind. Someone who thought I was enough, just the way I was.
Abram’s face flashed in my mind, and I tried to get rid of it. He haunted me.
Gods, I wanted Abram, and I didn’t understand why. No matter what, I could not get rid of these feelings for a man that told everyone I was nothing he wanted. It was pathetic, honestly.
I tilted my head to the stars, hating myself for the wish whispered from my lips. "If he’s meant to be mine…give me a sign."
Nothing happened.
“Okay, give me any help to find my mate.”
A sudden gust of wind swept through my room, stirring the air around me.
My spell book trembled at the edge of the desk as if responding to my plea, quivering with a life of its own.
Before I could reach it, the book slipped, landing open on the floor.
Pages flapped wildly, illuminated by moonlight, until one spell glowed brighter than the rest: “Whispers of the Tethers.”
My breath caught as my eyes roamed the words.
The stars, the moon, the fates—someone, something—was answering me.
Trembling, I knelt and reached for the book, my fingers brushing the page.
Whispering the words almost unconsciously, the air thickened, charged with magic that felt like it knew me, knew my heart.
A shiver ran down my spine, a warmth spreading through my chest, and for the first time in forever, the possibility of love felt tangible, real.
The universe had shifted. The stars had shown me the path. I clutched the book to my chest, my heart hammering, and moved toward my closet. Tonight, fate would begin.