Theo
I fucked up. Badly.
A long, completely preventable list of fuck ups had been tormenting me since I left Tesilvis.
I shouldn’t have brought attention to her region.
I shouldn’t have brought her to Drifael.
I shouldn’t have let her walk the markets without me.
I shouldn’t have left her alone. I should not have waited until the end of winter to return.
And I certainly shouldn’t have ignored my handcuff-lacerated wrists and ankles.
If I had half a brain cell, I would’ve asked Dia to heal me. But I didn’t. Why acknowledge the bleeding handcuff wounds, when I could just let infection brew over the course of a cross-continental trip?
I was running on no sleep, high stress, and minimal food. Bleeding, feverish, exhausted, and starving. Scaling Cyciciah, my impending demise attracted a horde of hungry beasts. They watched my struggle from the shadows of the trees and root systems, waiting for a meal.
I’d ditched my boots hours ago. They hurt more than they helped.
The leather had rubbed the inflamed gashes of my ankles, the friction quickly becoming unbearable.
But removing my shoes only fixed one source of pain.
The infection had spread to my knee. White-hot fire screamed up my legs with every step.
I couldn’t admit to myself I was in pain.
That I needed help. Vivian had worked so hard to convince me I wasn’t invulnerable, and that notion went flying out the fucking window the moment I panicked back into “handle it” mode.
The last mile of the mountain trek was steep, but that’d never been a problem. I historically had strong legs, good shoes, and was careful. None of that was true now. Rain poured, creating a familiar mudslide that my feet couldn’t grip. My legs trembled, threatening to give out.
I can’t make it.
That wasn’t an option. Vivian was up there and in danger.
Gable wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.
I didn’t know much about the “new field” startup process, but I knew the goddesses were always taken first. Why waste the battery life while you build an empire?
They could be used to charge the very machines intended to destroy their homes.
Would he even bother sending a “recruiter” there first?
Someone to gently coax her into their trap without risking any damage?
Or did this situation warrant skipping straight to brute force to capture her?
Mykie told me that’s how it happened with Faeryn.
First they sent some asshole named Cassius.
Then waves of random nameless grunts with rope and weapons and drugs to get the job done.
My stomach clenched at the thought of something so violent happening to Vivan.
While my mind wandered, I lost focus on my footing. I slipped and crashed to my knee, screaming out from sharp, searing agony. The lack of stealth was not ideal if E.A.R.T.H. was around, but I couldn’t stop the noise. The sudden pang was like a hot knife sinking into my flesh.
I pushed my toes into the mud and tried to stand up, just to slip and fall back to my elbows.
I couldn’t even shift feral to give myself some extra strength—I couldn’t carry my own weight. A sad excuse for a Quadmos. But it didn’t matter what kind of a Quadmos I was. This was my mate on the line, and as long as my heart was beating, I would use every resource I had left to care for her.
I began to crawl.
I dug all twenty fingers into the mud, pulling myself up the incline.
My wrists joined my ankles in their septic agony.
Roots scraped across my belly. I watched the rain dilute the streams of blood and pus streaking down my arms from the cuff wounds on my wrists that looked more red, purple, and yellow by the hour.
How did I have any blood left to lose? The hungry growls of the observing wildlife protested the crystal hanging from my neck keeping them at bay.
I ignored them. They weren’t the real threats.
One limb at a time, I would drag myself to Vivian. I’d crawl to the ends of this gods forsaken planet to make sure she slept peacefully against my chest, blanketed by my arms, for the rest of our lives together.
Finally, feathery stalks of wheat began to crest over the hill. The mountain flattened and clover began to speckle the mud. I pulled myself to my feet and stumbled through the magical border, gazing across her field at our cabin.
There were no machines for bulldozing, wardens with guns, or architects mapping out a new facility. For the most part, everything was how I left it… except…
I squinted my eyes to read the large, drippy red letters on the front of the home we’d built together. Raindrops dotted my lashes and blurred my vision. But once I was close enough, the message written in blood was unmistakable.
FUCK OFF.
OR JOIN THEM.
As I processed the words, I realized something macabre had been added to the stakes that usually only hosted protective charms.
Four heads. Sloppily severed at the neck. Speared on top of the wooden spikes. A warning.
What happened here?
I limped as quickly as I could to the front steps and threw open the door, desperately hoping to see Vivian standing there. I didn’t care if she held a knife to my throat. She just needed to be here. Alive. Safe.
“Vi-Vivian.” My shaking voice was hardly louder than a breath.
She wasn’t on the main floor. I climbed the rungs to the attic. Not there either.
The house was empty.
I dropped down the ladder with a heavy thud and collapsed to the ground. Sobs ripped through my clenched teeth. She wasn’t here waiting for me. And, based on the carnage outside, she also wouldn’t be in Drifael.
My mate had lost her freedom and home, the only thing she’d ever wanted, because I’d done what I thought I was supposed to do.
The right thing. Tie up loose ends. Set everyone up for success.
Be good. If I’d listened to the ache in my chest, the way it demanded her presence and begged me not to leave her, this wouldn’t have happened. Now she was gone.
“Mreow.”
Nurghle.
Had they left him here? Vivian would be devastated if he wasn’t taken care of. I stilled myself to listen. Ida would take him in, I could leave him with her on my way back down the mountain.
Then I would tear this world apart looking for my mate.
“Mrrrr—” The sound was muffled, but nearby. Was he stuck somewhere?
I opened the cabinets near where I sat. Not there. The water closet. Not there. Then it clicked where she would’ve hidden him. I dragged myself across the wooden floorboards to the fur rug, leaving a trail of red infection on my way.
I threw the rug to the side and grasped the ring handle, throwing open the wooden hatch.
Vivian.
No longer believing the gods deserved my gratitude, I thanked Vivian for being brave. For staying strong. For fighting for herself.
My Little Goddess was trembling. One arm held a squirming Nurghle in place while the other hand covered his mouth.
Her eyes were ghostly—wide enough to showcase their whites and pupils dilated to swallow all the pale blue I loved.
She was caked in dried blood, but fresh tears were re-hydrating the maroon crusts as she stared up at me.
She was a miserable and savage looking thing.
Mine to nurture and shelter from the horrible parts of this world.
And now, I was facing my failure to fulfill that sacred duty.
“Viv—”
In a flash, Nurghle was exchanged for the axe, and it was swinging at my head. I barely registered the attack in time to catch its blade between my fingers before it could crack into my skull.
I winced and choked down my yell, not wanting to scare her more. I blinked hesitantly to the side, looking at the damage. The sharp wedge had cut an inch or so deep into the flesh separating my fourth and fifth fingers.
“I deserved that,” I groaned through my teeth. “You can strike at me all you want later. But just let me fucking hold you first.” The words came out as a pained growl as I yanked the weapon out of my palm and chucked it across the floor.
Her eyes finally softened with recognition. There she is.
Vivian’s lips opened, but no words came out. That was okay. We could talk later. Right now, I just needed to feel her. I reached down and grabbed under her arms, lifting her from the hull.
Finally. My head thudded against the wall in relief as I pulled my wild little female against my chest and inhaled her blackberry aroma.
It was so much more bitter than when I’d left.
She went limp in my arms, the state of shock written across her face as clearly as the bloody warning painted outside.
She took my freshly wounded hand in her palms, and I felt the tingle of her magic.
“You really don’t have to—”
Her icy eyes cut into me with a warning. Right. Don’t fight. Let her fix me. I could protect her better healed. It had been a mistake to not ask for Dia’s help with my wounds, I wouldn’t do that again.
My nerves stitched themselves together. She moved onto my wrist. I watched the splotchy bruising fade.
The inflammation deflated. The gouged flesh closed.
I leaned my head into her matted hair and marveled at her power.
I’d been a matter of days from losing my hands, and now there was no trace of that agonizing pain and rot.
“Do you need anything from me, darling?” I murmured.
She wasn’t responsive. What she’d had to do to survive muted that usually sassy mouth of hers, but I knew the fire was still alive within her somewhere.
I would fan the flames as she recovered.
Re-learned she could trust me. Felt secure in knowing she would never need to do those horrible things again. That was my job now.
I hated the empty feeling of her moving away from my chest to tend to my ankles. I brushed my fingers along the back of her battle-dyed arm. She would be okay. There’d been enough of her left to glare at me and tend to my needs. Vivian was in there still.