13. LORE AND HEARTBREAK

Chapter thirteen

LORE AND HEARTbrEAK

T he wind thrashed through the naked tree branches, their rustle competing with the click of my heels on the vampire court's cobblestone path. Answers held in the castle had run dry—no new hints left by my mysterious helper—and so I'd come to see what old wisdom might be tucked away in the notorious Immortal Library. Centuries of realm history, fable, and lore resided in those walls. I jittered with anticipation.

Rumor had it—based on an eerie children's book on nightmares I'd come across in Death's study—that a magical portal to the other realms had once lain hidden deep within the library's underground tunnels. A moving, living chamber overflowing with records and journals about the Ancient Lores and their origins. But the chamber hadn't returned to Anathema in centuries. It remained in the mortal world, save for dire times when multiple planes were at war. More curious still, one needed a key to enter it. A key supposedly lost to time. My inner child dreamed that I'd be the chosen one to discover such a room, to be found worthy in the Old Gods' eyes to uncover the vaulted secrets. A silly, ridiculous fantasy.

However, there were bound to be answers in regards to the sacrificial magic mentioned in Barges' case study. After all, the vampires were known for their ritualistic love affair with mortals. Had their bloodlust not consumed them, the vampires would be intermeshed with their beloved humans to this day. What an odd thought: to both love and crave to destroy in one breath. I licked my lips, hyper-focused on my own growing thirst. I was beginning to understand how one sensation could possess all of you. Hunger. And yet, food didn't fill that void or the hollow longing in my stomach. Honestly, I pitied the vampires. Perpetual thirst was a damned nightmare.

Tucked in the forest's shadows on the village outskirts loomed the Immortal Library. Brick towers jutted towards the starlit sky three stories tall. Darkened windows glared down, though the village below radiated life and celebration. The vampire court was notorious for fantastic parties, and they were currently enthralled in their weeks-long celebration of the mortal world's fall equinox. Which fared well for me, giving me the chance to roam the library's halls undisturbed. To be myself for a stolen moment: not Lyvias, but Cooper. Putting on a face for others, pretending to be someone you aren't...it wears on a person. Makes you question everything about yourself. How long had I worn the vampire Lord's face? I couldn't remember. Long enough for my own identity to begin to fade away though. I'd become this ravenous thing; and I knew if I let it, the beast inside would overcome me.

My sore muscles—thanks to Cadagon's insistence on me training now and again to keep up the warrior persona Lyvias flaunted—cried out alongside the screeching hinges of the library doors. I looked over to find a rack to my right boasting an aged, wooden plaque.

Please remove your shoes. You tread on sacred floors.

I kicked my boots off, placed them on the rack, and headed for the tall chest in the rounded entryway. Atop it sat multiple candle holders, and I grabbed one with a half-burnt, black candle inside, setting it aflame with a nearby match before starting down the curved stairs ahead. My body buzzed in the thick dark as I offered up a silent prayer. Fate, guide me.

A domed window above amplified the moonlight, a single beam reaching but narrowly missing a round mirror mounted on the staircase railing. I swiveled the mirror's base, giving it a turn to the left, and the room burst to life. The light bounced to a second mirror across the vast room, then to another, and on it went until the grand space filled with an amber glow. My breath caught. Bookcases crawled up the walls to the top story, a rolling ladder placed before each. The shelves easily stood thirty feet tall, and I arched my neck upwards. Holy hell. Good thing I wasn't afraid of heights.

"Now, where to begin..." I muttered to no one and leaned down to warm my hands near a central hearth.

It was a dry heat, but not fire somehow. The sensation tickled my fingers and brain as the metal contraption whooshed , expanding and retracting. I settled on my knees to look it over. Weird. It almost sounded like breathing. Maybe the stories were true. Maybe a giant really did slumber beneath the court, his breath heating the space and his blood filling the vampires' stomachs. Fascinating.

From there, I let intuition guide me as my socks shuffled over woven red and silver rugs on the marble floor. I spent hours wandering down this hall and that, up one ladder and the next. It took me a bit to figure out the library's sorting system, but once I did, I found the precise area I needed. Located on a shelf tucked between two large oil paintings depicting Fate and Death, a well-worn book sparked my interest. I slid the thick spine from its home and slammed it down on the nearest table, the thud echoing through the library chambers. A plume of dust wafted from the pages, and I fanned it away with a cough. "Shit, doesn't anybody keep up on this place?"

In great detail, the historical account chronicled the events leading to the gifts bestowed by the Old Gods at the birth of the new world. Bored in their eternal monotony—their makeshift children unable to fill the void in them as they'd hoped—Fate and Death had grown curious of the universe's developments and cast their sights on the mortal plane. What were these feeble beings? Such precious, fleeting lives they lived, full of love and heartbreak. During their creation of the Ancient Lores, Fate and Death hadn't given much consideration to such characteristics. Turned out they had granted the Lores consciousness and free will without concern for their ability to empathize or show compassion, which the Gods learned were crucial traits as they studied humanity. Little did they know, that oversight would ignite a global massacre.

The more the Gods' interest in mankind grew, the more their children had fought for their attention. Slaughtered and killed for it. Humanity had hung on the brink, hunted to near extinction by the God and Goddess's abominable creations. Fearing the cosmic ramifications, Fate and Death had wrapped their souls in mortal coils for one day and walked amongst the humans in search of a quick solution, but the damage had been too vast. Disgusted by her own children, Fate had acted.

She turned back time.

Unfortunately, the memories remained. Humanity's fears manifested the Ancient Lores in the mortal world through their nightmares, thereby forever solidifying the Lores' existence as multi-plane beings and weaving them into the universal fabric of all things. Fate's hands had been tied. She couldn't undo the Lores' existence, but she could lock them away. As an apology to the humans she had come to adore, Fate and her lover created the realms of Elysium and Anathema—as above, so below—bestowing a fraction of their powers to the new realms' leaders in order to uphold balance and maintain the prison realm created to hold the Ancient Lores: the Shroud. In doing so, the very first blood pact on any plane of existence had been struck: Fate and Death would never again reside in the same realm to ensure history wouldn't repeat itself.

And Death wept.

Legend claimed his eternal tears had birthed the ever-flowing waterfalls lining Anathema's borders. I'd never considered myself a religious man, but the tale hit home, inspiring a moment of silent reverence. My jaw tensed. Such pain. Such sacrifice. Some would kill for a love like that. I would kill for it. The idea that someone could be seen and desired so completely made my soul ache. Burn. I closed my eyes and released a slow, cleansing sigh. Love like that was only in fairy tales.

I refocused on the task at hand. The more I dug, the more infuriated I grew, but I couldn't leave without a lead. Determined, I searched the nooks and crannies, forsaking the main corridor to wander deeper into the sprawling veins of the library. Two floors down, I turned into a torch-lined hallway with large stone doors at the end, splayed wide open to reveal a solarium packed with willow trees and archaic bookshelves. Despite the room's position below ground level, a river cut through a dense forest outside the arched windows. Anathema: ever the mind-bender. In an ivy-covered cupboard tucked away from the rest, I found dozens of hand-written grimoires; and my sights snagged on one in specific entitled, A Lesson in Baneful Magic, written by Aisling O'Connell.

"Thank you, Fate," I whispered.

On page one, I began finding connections to the things mentioned in Barges' journal. The grimoire dove into the sacrificial magic he'd spent years trying to understand, yet there was no mention of hybrids. Not if they existed. Not how to create one. Nothing. By the end of my search, I'd acquired a crash-course bachelor's in how sacrificial magic had the power to do damn near anything as long as a mortal witch and multiple human lives were involved, but it left me with more questions than answers. Why would Malachi go through the trouble to imbue Odin with hybrid magic and not himself? He was clearly the power-hungry prick of a mastermind in their relationship. Unless…unless he'd made his mate a guinea pig. Baneful magic tended to have nasty side effects, cursing anyone who wielded it incorrectly.

Barges, please be nothing more than an old kook.

Because if he wasn't? If his claims about creating a hybrid powerful enough to overthrow the royal bloodline were true, and the demon Lord got his hands on such a spell, well…

We'd be royally screwed.

Turns out revels were more than a simple delicacy fit for a royal wedding. They were also quite possibly the most fucking terrifying things in existence.

Flower creatures sound fun and all until one sets upon you ready to gnaw off your face. But after collaborating with Kim and her baiting Cadagon into taking us on a trip into the shifter realm so we could investigate Barge's claims, the little bastards came with the territory. The farther into the trees we went, the clearer it became that the Evermoor Woods were sick. Diseased. Their knobby, peeling limbs arched over us like desperate, reaching hands begging for someone to take notice of their pain and suffering.

"If we split up, we'll cover more ground," Kimber said—Death safely out of earshot—and stalked towards the north side of the woods.

I fell in stride at her side, matching her step for step. "What, trying to get away from me so soon?"

"Am I that transparent?"

"I am afraid so. But don't worry, your secret is safe."

Her eyes crashed into mine. "Secret?"

"Oh, you know. That I'm growing on you. That you don't despise my company nearly as much as you pretend. In fact, I'd brave it to say that you quite enjoy me."

"Ha! You wish."

A playful grin tore across my face. "I do."

I didn't shy away from her defiant stare. Didn't shrink or wilt under her words. Because I could feel it: the spark igniting between us. And I was feral for it. Prepared to fan it into vicious flames.

"I urge you not to run from your feelings, Princess. They have a way of catching up when you least expect."

She scoffed. "I assure you, the only ‘feelings' I have for you are that of annoyance."

"Given that a second ago you couldn't keep your hands off me, I like my odds."

"That was because I thought we were about to be eaten alive by a damn revel!"

"And I am pleased you turned to me for comfort." I leaned in closer, her warm breath sweeping across my face. "Please, do feel free to do it again. And again. And—"

"You truly are delusional, you know that?"

Her nose wrinkled—the tiny freckles dotting across it like stars in the midnight sky—and the air in my lungs thinned. How could one woman be so breathtaking? It was criminal. Our blood pact magic swirled about, knocking a weft of her hair loose as it circled.

"Delusion is merely a patient step away from reality, Kim. And I'll let you in on a little secret of my own." I tucked her hair back in place, my fingertips brushing the cusp of her ear. "I am incredibly patient. When I want something, I take my time. In all regards."

I ran the backs of my fingers down her neck, eliciting a shiver from her that she swallowed down.

"Well, for your sake," she bit, "I hope that's true. Because hell will cool and freeze over before I let you anywhere near me, Lyvias. Mark my words."

I smirked. "Before? So I do stand a chance then?"

"Ugh, you are impossible!"

She stepped around me; but in her passing, I saw it: the most exquisite shade of pink brushing across her cheeks.

I lost myself in that image as we split up in search of answers. Enveloped by the quiet of the forest floor, reality sought to steal my sliver of hope. I'd spent my young, most formidable years growing and learning here, surrounded by others who shared my same unique gifts. I'd had a home and a family to call my own. Support and community. I'd belonged. Wandering through these woods should have been magical. It should have been a chance to reconnect to my birth place, maybe even discover a lost piece of myself. Instead, I longed. Longed for a life and a sense of self I would never again have. My jaw flexed. I had nowhere to hide from the devastation or the stench of rot tangled in the decaying trees as the court's deadly history still seeped about in the charred soil. Time, it seemed, did not heal all wounds.

As if the hollow twinge in my chest wasn't enough, Barges' claims turned out to be infallible truth. After returning to Kimber's suite, she described the scene she'd stumbled on deep in the Evermoor: a rope reeking of sulfur.

"It didn't budge, no matter how hard I pulled." She shivered. "Let's just say it was dark."

I heaved a breath, unsure I wanted the answer to the question on my lips. "‘Dark' as in sacrificial?"

The horror reflected on her face was proof enough, but she confirmed her energy reading had picked up on remnants of a baneful spell. Unabashed fear clouded her expression. A hexed rope. Great.

"I figured you'd want to see. I left you a marker."

"You tore your blouse?" I asked, looking over the tattered edge. "But it looks so lovely on you."

"Think so?"

Those eyes—pleading and frightened—summoned me closer. I knew that face like the back of my hand, had committed it to memory. She was overwhelmed. She needed a means to escape the mounting pressure and our inevitable, uncertain future. She wanted to shut everything off. Hell, I was right there with her.

I pushed off the wall, crossing the room. "Red is quite striking against your skin, and it makes your eyes glow."

The truth seeped between us like heavy smoke as I accepted what I had refused to before: there was a chance we might already be too late to fix this. Our enemies surrounded us, lurking in the shadows, always one step ahead. Enemies who wished Kim dead. What lengths were they willing to go to secure power? Shit, Malachi had already gone so far as to strike a deal with a creature locked in an eternal prison world by its own mother . On top of that, it was becoming increasingly difficult to deny that he'd used sacrificial magic to infuse Odin with hybrid abilities. My teeth clenched. If Malachi somehow succeeded in his quest to end the royal bloodline, Anathema would be doomed. Life as I knew it would be over. And hers—

No. I wouldn't let that happen.

The weight came crashing in, and the urge to push thought from mind in exchange for the simple peace of touch overcame me. I needed an escape. Something, anything else to focus on. Before I could stop myself, I reached for her—my heart hammering in my chest—and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear for the second time that day. Only this time I let my hand linger.

Just a touch.

I lifted her chin, and she shuttered under my caress.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, but didn't pull away.

Our eyes locked, and her gaze fell to my lips, the intensity in her stare making my stomach jump. What I'd seen earlier: the semblance of desire in her…it was true. There, plain as night and equally insatiable.

I slid a hand around her waist, pulling her to me. "What, you don't like it?"

"No…"

A grin caught my cheeks. Her lie hadn't even convinced herself. How I wanted to devour that lying tongue, take it between my teeth, and explore its sharpness. My length pulsed as her rapid heartbeat settled in my ears. So fucking sexy: the way her body yearned for me. Her dark, curious nature begged for release, and I would be a monster to deny her.

I licked my lips, the sweet aroma of her blood encompassing me. Gods, how I wanted to give in. To take her as her body wept for my attention. And why not? My thirst, well—it couldn't be satiated on blood alone. But did she truly want this? Me? Certainly, she must. If she didn't want to explore this…this hunger between us as bad as I did, she wouldn't hesitate to wield her power against me. No, she wanted this.

She wanted me .

Lyvias's mask be damned, I could feel she did, sense it. I towered over her, savoring the elation her poorly hidden smile lent me. "I never took you for a liar, Lady Death. Shall I wash your mouth out with soap or something more…substantial?"

The spark between us ignited.

Her hand slid along my hard cock, and chills raced up my spine. Her touch… More . I needed more, now . My mouth crashed into hers, a whimper rising in her throat to mix with my own. As my body tensed, I held back the urge to pin her to the wall, abandon restraint, and ravage her; but a woman like Kim was meant to be savored. Slow and steady. Teasing out her precious passion.

I nibbled her bottom lip, and her blood spilled over my tongue, the taste rivaling the finest wine. If heaven did exist, I imagined it would feel something like this. Like her. Like the way she melted in my arms, her heated breath brushing along my chest in kind. Absolutely divine. Her fingers teased the sensitive skin at my hip, tempting the beast within me to come out and play. She held my stare as she slid her hand into my pants. A moan tore through me.

Mine. My queen.

I freed the beast. Pinning her to the bed, I ripped her clothes off in frenzied motions and stood over her to behold her raw beauty. A gods-damned masterpiece. Her breasts were divine: full and round. I simply had to taste them. I kissed my way across her breasts, careful to skip over the pebbled peaks, and she writhed beneath me. Desperate. Pleading. I sank my teeth into her, nearly coming on contact, but I wasn't done with her. Not yet.

"Lower," she begged.

I sucked her nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue, and her back arched. Her hips bucked, grinding against my throbbing length.

As she slid onto my lap, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would be my ruin. No other would or could compare to her. The power this woman had over me… I'd be whatever, become whatever, she needed me to be. I'd crush her enemies at her feet, make them bow before her, and—as she took their lives in her hands—worship her body, her soul. My dark temple. Every time I thought there was no way I could love her more, she wound her web tighter around me.

Her hand latched around my throat, and her fingertips dug into my flesh as she moved against me. The way she commanded me had me aching to fill her, over and over. A dark laugh rattled through me. "There she is."

But I still thirsted. Not for her blood, but her essence. I dragged her to the edge of the bed, pulled her lacy panties down, and parted her legs.

Holy hell…so wet.

I took her swollen clit into my mouth and nipped. Her gasp tickled my ears, encouraging me. Working her most sensitive spot in tight, firm circles, I felt her approaching release. Her knees shook as she neared the edge, and I clasped my mouth over hers as she came, devouring her unfettered cry of ecstasy.

Such a good girl.

Her hands dropped to my pants, frantic to free me. While I wanted nothing more than to bury myself inside her and see to her pleasure until the wee morning hours, a thought hit me suddenly. It wouldn't be my name she'd cry out in passion; it would be his: Lyvias. Everything in me pleaded to let her in, to let her near, but I couldn't. It would be unfair. A betrayal. She didn't know I lay beneath the mask. Had no idea who served her. She deserved to have all the cards on the table before making her decision on with whom she shared her most private desires. And so despite it fraying the very fiber of my being, I denied her.

"Did I…did I do something wrong?" she asked, her voice small.

I laced my hand in hers. "Absolutely not; you're incredible. But…but this isn't going to happen. Not tonight."

The embarrassment on her face pierced me straight in the heart. She believed I didn't want her, that I'd found her lacking. I don't know that I'd ever felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life. She'd opened herself up after losing Juniper, let me in, and I…I'd betrayed her trust. Not only that, I'd bred insecurity in her.

I grasped her shoulder. "I need you to hear me. It's not you; it's me ."

"If I had a nickel for every time someone said that…" she murmured.

"But it's true. Before you give yourself to me, there are things you need to know. About my past." My hands flexed. "About who I am. Until then, I cannot in good conscience be with you."

"Then tell me."

I wanted to more than anything, but I was bound. Death would have my head—and Malachi hers—if I didn't keep this to myself. I had no choice, because her protection came first and foremost.

"It's not that simple."

"Yeah? Well, this is simple. You and me? We're business partners," she stabbed. "There is no ‘us' or ‘we.' So keep your secrets, Lyvias. Just know that if any of them put my people at risk, I'll do what I must."

I froze, my heart sinking in disbelief. Wait…she couldn't mean that. I dared a step closer, pleading for understanding, but her mind was made up. We were done before we even had a chance to start. How could I have been so careless? Allowed my selfish desires to overshadow her needs? Shit…I really was a monster.

With a cold and distant stare, she donned her crown and demanded my return to the shifter realm, extending me a vial of her blood to gain access. An order. This—all of this—was over.

"Yes, Your Majesty." I headed for the door but paused with my hand on the knob. "Even if today is the only taste of you I'll receive, everything I've done will have been worth it."

I stepped out into the hall, my self-deprecating thoughts threatening to swallow me whole.

I was alone. Again.