3. Bram

3

brAM

I staggered into Nyx’s and my dimly lit room with my gut churning. I moved around all of the empty bottles on my side, thanks to my countless nights spent drowning in fae whiskey. Rage and despair warred in my fucking soul as I dropped onto the edge of my unmade bed.

My leg wouldn’t stop bouncing as I stared at Nyx’s side. He wouldn’t be back tonight. He’d be with my—no, our —fated mate— Pandora Gravesend .

A flicker of jealousy ignited within me, even though I knew I had no right.

The tank in the corner hummed, and Nyx’s axolotl, Gumdrop, mocked me with silent judgment.

“What?” I snapped.

The creature's beady eyes stared back at me, unblinking. It was almost as if he were telling me that I fucked up.

“Fuck you, Gumdrop,” I snarled.

The axolotl scowled back, its tiny face contorting in what I could only interpret as disdain.

Disdain for me—just like everyone else.

“Just because you’re Nyx’s little fucking pet doesn’t mean you’re better than me,” I growled.

His eyes rolled, and he turned his body around in a huffy spiral.

Was I arguing with an axolotl?

Get it together, Bram.

I clenched my fists. The tattoos of the wolves and hawks writhed with chaos on my skin in sync with my fury.

Memories of my grandfather's stories about his fated mate, my grandmother, rang in my head. He told me that the Fates only blessed demons worthy enough for a soulmate. He had always spoken with reverence about the fated bond, about how it was meant to be cherished and protected.

My chest burned with self-loathing.

Grandfather had lost his fated mate before I was born. She was killed by humans during Kalista’s Second War. It broke him, but he somehow lived without her for four decades after.

He was the only family I had that showed me kindness. On his deathbed, he told me that I had a brother I hadn’t known about, but he also told me about how precious fated mates were.

It was all fucking bullshit.

Grandfather’s last words to me were about finding her— my fated mate. A soulmate he’d been so sure I would have. He made me promise that when I met her, I would cherish her and let her know she was my world.

He coveted fated mates, and so did I. Back when I was sober and aware of what was happening around me.

Maybe if I wasn’t constantly drunk, I would’ve noticed that what I felt for her wasn’t hate—regardless of her nobility status.

I let Grandfather down, and by doing so, I let her down. I treated Pandora— my fated mate —like noble scum. The cruel words I’d spat at her echoed back at me in my mind. I mocked her for the wrap she wore to cover those scars. For Fate’s sake, I hadn't fucking known about the scars.

The realization twisted my insides.

Fates , I’d called her a slut without knowing shit about her.

I made myself sick. Grandfather would be so disappointed if he knew what I had done to the one soul on Kalista that I was supposed to cherish and love.

A wave of grief crashed over me, leaving my soul raw, exposed, and searching for hers. But I wouldn’t be able to find her. Only soulmates who complete the matebond can feel each other, and she would never want me.

I pushed to my feet, my movements jerky and uncoordinated.

I was the worst fated mate in the history of Kalista.

I was nothing but a drunk bastard—just like she said I was. But even in my despair, a flicker of determination ignited within me.

I had to make things right, somehow, or at very least try to. I just didn't know where to start.

My gaze darted around my side of the room, landing on the array of fae whiskey and rum bottles lining the shelves of the bookcase.

I might not have been able to fix being a bastard, but I could fix being a drunk.

Storming over, I grabbed the nearest one—a bottle of fae rum that had been my favorite to drown myself in—and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered, the fae alcohol splattering across the floor in a rainbow of color.

“Fuck!” A broken scream tore from my throat as I snatched up another bottle, and another, smashing them one by one.

My ears filled with the sound of breaking glass, and my nose was assaulted by the pungent scent of alcohol and the sweet cover of fae magic. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the alcohol-soaked floor.

Sobs wracked me, hard, the sound wretched and broken—and pathetic, like me.

I’d never been good enough for anyone.

My entire existence was a chaotic mess. I fed off the turmoil I created wherever I went. It was what I did best. But this was different. It was the first time I knew I deserved the hatred directed at me.

She should despise me for what I’d done and how I treated her. I was supposed to protect her, not fucking despise her. I was so drunk that I thought it was fun to pick on her. I’d set my sights on her in the worst way because she was a noble. I’d thought she was the same as the nobles that looked down on me.

I was so fucking wrong.

Even before the bond snapped, there was something about her that made me want to seek her out.

She wasn’t even a noble—not truly. She may have been Death’s daughter, but she had grown up a captive. She’d been abused by a deranged shadow demon that birthed her. I knew that there was more to her story than she told us up on that cliff—her origins couldn’t be that fucked up without there being something more.

When I first saw her, I recognized the desire flickering in her red depths. It pissed me off because no noble had ever looked at me with anything but disgust other than my grandfather. I thought maybe she just wanted to try out a low-class demon for fun, but something deep inside of me wanted her back. I was angry at myself for it. I was angry at everything and everyone.

And I’d, oh, fuck. I’d made everything so hard on her any chance I had.

My self-pity was interrupted by the chime of my tablet.

It was probably another fucking message from Slater.

I wiped my tear-streaked face with the back of my hand and walked over to my bed. Broken glass crunched under my wet shoes, and I picked the tablet up to read the messages from my brother. I’d been ignoring him, but it didn’t stop him from texting me shit I didn’t even know I needed to hear.

Slater Havoc

You're worth it, Bram. Give yourself a chance to be more. I know you’re capable.

Just talk to me.

The words pierced through my haze of self-loathing. I sank back onto the bed, and the weight of my actions fucking crushed me.

That damn axolotl had turned back around and stared at me like it pitied me, and fuck, maybe it should’ve.

I was pitiful.

I buried my face in my hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Once again, I felt completely and utterly lost.

If there was even the slightest chance to make amends, to prove that I was worth it, I would take it. I just needed to find the strength to begin, and to do that—I couldn’t solve my problems at the bottom of a bottle.

The room fell silent again, except for the soft hum of Gumdrop's tank and my ragged breathing. Maybe it was fucked up and weak, but I clung to Slater’s messages.

If there was even a fucking sliver of hope that I could be worthy of my fated mate, I would do anything to earn that.