CHAPTER 10
KADE
Two Hundred Years Ago — Goreon Kingdom
MASTER HULL AND GRACE lead the procession down the hallway to the Mortifer catacombs, with Lou carried behind us by Rhett and station leaders.
I master a neutral gaze to fight the sorrow in my chest while my memories of Lou spin inside me.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to sit on my barstool at his tavern anymore, and my gut twists when I think about sipping from a glass he’ll never pour for me again.
Such a simple, stupid thing. And I’m going to miss it more than I ever thought I would.
But I have to go back to Lou’s, every night I can, because he wouldn’t want me to stop coming to his place, or Mother Hollie to lose business, or squander the comforting impact of the Captain’s presence amongst the community.
We pass carved stones inscribed with names, ranks, and years along the cavern wall.
I don’t know which one is my father’s; I’ve only visited my mother.
Grace and I travel every summer to the Sereia Sea, where our Mothers’ ashes were released, the gods sweeping their souls into the wind and carrying them home.
The procession pauses in the wide, spacious cavern beside the opening in the wall, and Rhett slides his father’s body into its resting place with the help of Riot and Brachett.
Hundreds of candles flicker around us as Hunters hold their lit offering, and one by one, we pass the casket, dripping our wax, and saying our final words to Lou.
I’m pissed. I shouldn’t be saying any final words to Lou. If I had just been a few tables over, I could have stopped that bolt with my bare fucking hands and this good man would still be behind his bar, smiling and laughing and bringing us all the joy we so greatly need.
Fuck this king.
I drip my wax and promise Lou, and all the gods, the revenge he deserves.
We bow our heads in silence and then depart from the sacred space to prepare for our attack on Goreon Castle.
Usually, we’re tipping back ale all night when a Hunter dies, but it’s all business this morning with steaming coffee and station leaders gathered around the roaring fire in the main chamber.
Riot pulls out a map of Goreon City, splaying it on the table.
“We’ll meet here on the second day. There’s an abandoned underground tunnel system we’ll hide in until nightfall.
” Riot indicates the location and then circles the structure next to it.
“This tavern is our closest friendly outpost. Owned and operated by Mother Hollie and … Lou. There’s tunnel access through their cellar. ”
“We’re going to need to take out every vampire in that castle,” Ned says, eyes pinned to the roaring fire, his jaw tight.
“No one left alive in the stronghold. It’s the only way to change Goreon and get Sam back.”
Riot grins. “I can’t wait to sleep in a royal bedroom in two days.”
Brachett tosses Riot his empty cup. “Fetch me another before your royal ass is too good for it.”
The chair creaks as Riot stands to refill his coffee.
He eyes me and my full mug. “Anyone else?”
My nerves are getting the better of me. All these men.
All these lives. Birthright, training, magic, the call—it’s all supposed to numb the stress tied to sending every Hunter into battle on your command.
But it doesn’t. My worry is eating me alive like a poison.
Ready to consume me with every life lost, every chest that will never expand again, every jaw that won’t tick, eyes that won’t blaze with love, voices that won’t laugh, throats that won’t swallow down the ale in our glasses.
Whether Hunters want to end the rule of this king, avenge Lou, or save Sam, we’re all heading into this with our own reasons, but I’m still the one who has sworn to lead them to the other side.
“I’m good,” I promise him, sending out another reach of magic to Sam.
No response.
Riot grips my shoulder before disappearing.
By late morning, all other outfits depart with their guides, and the thirty remaining Hunters from Central march in front of me through the carved chamber, Mortifer’s massive stone door rumbling shut behind us.
I watch the backs of my men as we venture out from the mountain into the slashing wind.
Rhett and Riot hike ahead of me, their honed forms bundled in furs and bent forward against the gale, their boots crunching in the snow under the weight of countless weapons strapped to their backs and belts.
Our weapon stores haven’t been this empty in a long time; every Hunter has taken all they can carry.
Master Hull and Grace trail me. The old man wouldn’t stay, no matter what I said. Outside of chaining him to the fortress walls, I didn’t have a choice. Or so he told me while threatening to douse me with his scalding coffee if I even dared to have an opinion about it.
With heaving breath, we trudge for hours through the icy wilderness back to Southend, and finally the familiar salted cobbled streets thud against my boots and the tension in my chest uncoils a bit.
“Home sweet home!” Riot announces, all but kicking the front door down and stripping armor and swords as he barrels into the kitchen.
Grace sheds her coat and assists her father with his belongings.
“Woman, I’ve got it,” he snarks, and she backs off with a grin, going into the kitchen with Riot.
Men filter in, clogging the modest foyer, and with the last Hunter finally through the door, I slide the bolt and lock us in.
Home.
My favorite fucking place with my favorite fucking people.
“Food’s in here if anyone wants some,” Riot calls from the kitchen.
I escape into my study before I’m trampled by hungry Hunters.
The door snicks shut, and I find comfort in my large leather lounge chair after lighting a fire. I flop open the journal resting on the table next to me.
My pen scratches against parchment as I record the past few days—the decisions, the attitude of the Hunters, my magic that changes and grows with each passing hour since I sent the call across all of Goreon.
Whatever unseen fate dangles in our future, my actions are reinforced by the approval of my magic.
The fire pops, and my eyes flick to the flames.
My study door creaks, and I don’t bother to check who opened it. Only one person would ever dare such a thing. I set the journal on the table as Grace slides into my lap, her fingers tracing the Hunter crest chained around my neck.
“You need to eat,” she tells me. “Should I bring it in here?”
My gaze finds her plump lips before skating up to kind eyes crinkling at their corners.
“I’m in the mood for something else,” I admit, the feel of her body sending mine into a frenzy. Everything about our upbringing and magic calls us to protect and honor our women. With our words, time, and attention.
And I’d never trade it for any other skill in this life.
Grace runs her hands up my chest, humming as her green eyes sparkle at me. “Probably the same thing I’m in the mood for, Kade.” I huff a laugh, and Grace sighs. “I could use a drink tonight, too, though.”
My eyebrows pinch. Now, that is not a Gracie trait.
She thuds her forehead into my shoulder. “Do you think I should accept my magic before we walk into this thing—” Her voice catches, and I hate that she would even dare to second-guess her decision.
“You don’t owe them anything, Grace,” I growl as she hides in my neck.
She lifts her head. “I know. A part of me always wants to accept my magic, but I just—I want our children to have the choice.”
I cup her face with my palm. “And I love you more because of it.”
Magic or not, I’ll bow before Grace until my last breath.
“I hate that I have to choose,” she says, hands planted on my chest.
“I know, my darling. And I hate it for you, more than you can possibly imagine.”
She nods, a small smile creeping out as she shifts to straddle me. “Stiff drink still sounds like the right remedy, though.”
I huff. “Probably for everyone.”
She hooks a tooth over her bottom lip, her eyes drinking in my hand encompassing her thigh. “I shouldn’t get too drunk, though. I wouldn’t want to pounce when you need to conserve your energy,” she tells me with a straight face that I’m unsure how she’s managing.
“Did you just insult my ability to perform my duties as Hunter and husband?”
She shrugs, but her eyes darken. “My needs are endless. And this war is important.”
I scoff, getting hard beneath her as the heat between her legs threatens my sanity. “Grace Hull, I’m about to bend you over right here and put that baby in you.”
She winks, rocking herself against my cock, and my hands tighten on her.
“Eat first, and let’s have a drink with our men, then you can do that,” she says with a velvet tone.
I growl and stand from the chair, tossing Grace over my shoulder. Her yelp pulls a huge grin across my face, and I snatch open the study door, marching us into the kitchen.
Riot looks up from his stew, spoon stuck in his enormous mouth.
“I knew she’d get you out of that office,” he mutters around the utensil.
I give Grace’s ass a hearty slap. “Conniving wife,” I say with pride bursting from my chest.
I love my people. And I was stewing.
But I like to stew. There’s nothing wrong with ruminating and internalizing. I can’t be certain of my decisions until I roll them over so many times I’ve got emotional rugburn.
I slide Grace down my front, groping every inch of her as she goes, and my eyes devour her lips, and her piercing green gaze locks onto mine. My upper lip curls, my tongue remembering the way she tastes spread out before me like my own personal feast.
“I don’t care how much liquor you have tonight, Grace. Your head will be spinning in bed regardless.”
Her lips part as I stuff a ham sandwich into my grin.
“Drinks and swordplay in the basement!” I announce to the house packed with Hunters through a full mouth. “Follow if you want to lose more of your money to me,” I shout from the foyer, throwing open the door to the basement.
Dishes and chairs rattle in response.