Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CAEDMON

A sigh came from behind Morgan, which could've come from any one of her men.

Unfortunately, her hunch didn't pay off, the elves remaining impassive instead of confessing they were behind the deed.

Aoibh's eyes flicked toward the silver crown woven into her hair. Surprise registered on her face for the first time, then her furious gaze swung toward Atlas, and a grimace of distaste twisting her features as she looked at him for the first time. "What did you do?"

The first thing out of her mouth wasn't congratulations but an accusation.

Morgan barely resisted the urge to deck the bitch.

"I wish I could say that it's good to see you again, Mother, but that would be a lie." Atlas gave her a mocking smirk. "Our mating has been blessed by Faerie. No one can cast it asunder without Faerie demanding its price. Don't you want to congratulate us?"

Even though it wasn't directed at her, Morgan cringed at his mocking, icy tone.

He had reverted back to the cold-hearted prick that she'd first met.

That was until his hand came to rest on the small of her back.

Morgan was shocked he would go against his family to protect her. No wonder he'd been so nervous giving her the gift. He didn't know if Faerie would approve of their mating or not. She could only imagine the cost he would've paid if they were denied, possibly even losing the family heirloom or more, and she wanted to smack him for taking such a chance without telling her.

Aoibh's pale blue eyes glowed, darkening to gunmetal as her fury took over. Tiny black lines around her eyes appeared like veins under the skin, giving her appearance a sinister cast. Malevolence crept across the room like shadows, seeking to infect anyone it touched. "The heartstone should've been returned to the family immediately. Keeping it only sullies the family further."

Not even our family.

Her total disregard for her own son chilled Morgan to the bone.

If she was the type of woman who could treat her son in such a way, she wasn't the type of woman Morgan could trust not to stab her in the back.

No matter what happened at this meeting, Aoibh wouldn't stop coming after her.

If she wanted Morgan dead, she would never stop until she finished the job, even if it meant destroying her own son to do it.

"Enough," Aoibh said in a waspish voice, her patience clearly gone for those who she considered beneath her notice—anyone who was not fae. "We didn't come here to negotiate. Either hand over the girl and Caedmon and we'll allow the rest of you to live, or reject our offer and we'll destroy your coven and anyone in it."

They didn't even blink at the mention of mass murdering innocent people.

No remorse.

Not even the slightest qualm.

The guys stiffened like only predators could, three of them growling, but thankfully, none of them attacked. The fae were trapped, unable to attack during the meeting, unless the guys broke the accords first.

But one thing troubled her. "Why did you even bother coming to the meeting?"

Aoibh smiled slowly, her expression chilling, totally lacking in any emotion but the need to end her life. "To tell you there is no sense running or trying to fight. It's nothing personal. If it's not me, they will send someone else. Your death has been foretold since your birth. There is no escaping it."

Morgan could only gape at them, her mind broken at the impossibility. "Why?"

"Because of your birth." Arthur sighed and rose to his feet.

Morgan nearly leapt out of her skin, having once again having forgotten his presence. She rubbed her brow, a sharp pain piercing her skull, her head feeling like it was splitting. The image of him blurred, like another person was overlaid on top of him. "I don't understand."

"Thanatos," Aoibh breathed the name, blanching when she caught sight of the old man. She and the other fae gave him a formal bow, lowering their eyes in subservience.

Magic surged in the room the instant his name hit the air, then his form rippled and the image of the old man peeled away, the glamor keeping him hidden finally broken.

Her mind cleared, and every interaction with him returned with startling clarity.

And every single suspicion she'd had about him.

Power radiated from the man so strongly that it actually seeped from his pores, unable to be contained in his body. He still resembled Arthur somewhat, the human version of him was just watered down.

He stood a few inches taller, his shoulders broader, his frame packed with muscles. His hair was fuller, his eyes deepening to a darker green. Wrinkles melted away, his body firmed, and he practically glowed with vitality.

Air became trapped in her lungs as awareness settled into her bones, her body recognizing the magic that was so similar to her own—void magic so pure, it was like he was a doorway to the other world.

Which meant one thing—he was a freaking god.

Outside of Tartarus.

The literal god of death itself.

Fuck.

Morgan stood frozen like a rabbit who sensed a predator nearby, her brain unable to process what it meant. Thankfully, he appeared more interested in the fae than in her, angling slightly in front of her like he was protecting her.

Which was ridiculous…right?

She'd been under the impression that the gods wanted her dead.

While he was distracted, a tiny bit of air seeped into her oxygen starved lungs. The black dots dancing in her vision gradually faded, and sounds returned in a rush.

"Unfortunately, killing her won't be possible." Arthur—no, fuck, his name was now Thanatos—gave the elves an assured, totally implacable smile, like his word was law.

Who the hell knows at this point…maybe it is.

Aoibh's head snapped up at the not so subtle order, her eyes narrowing as she straightened. "She is not listed as one of the approved gods allowed to remain on earth. According to the accords, she must be destroyed. Any escaped gods must be sent back to Tartarus."

What the every-loving hell?!

Morgan felt like she'd fallen down a rabbit hole as a world she had no clue existed opened up before her. Kincade slipped a hand around her waist and gently pulled her behind him as the god faced down the elves. His skin had hardened as his gargoyle pushed to the surface.

Then it was like she was being handed off. Ryder grabbed her next, more beast than man as his wolf rode him hard. He kissed the crown of her head, never once taking his eyes away from the confrontation, then grabbed her shoulders and pushed her toward Draven and Ascher.

She glared, daring the two of them to touch her. They exchanged one look, then shrugged and just stepped around her until all she could see was a wall of broad shoulders and backs.

Even Caedmon had joined their antics, joining the wall of bodies.

She glanced behind her to see MacGregor all but snickering. She threw up her hands, shooting him a what the fuck look that only made his grin spread. Mistress McKay smacked him playfully, but even she was smiling.

The metal wolves' stationed around the benches had inched closer to the couple, and it boggled her mind to see that MacGregor and McKay were actually petting them, the beasts lapping up the human attention.

"She is exempt, born on this side of the veil," Thanatos said, power thrumming in his voice. It was a demand and brooked no argument. "It is on this side that she will remain."

"You don't get to make the rules." Aoibh refused to bend, refused to back down. "We have no choice but follow the accords. You are aware of the rules—you created them. There is no other choice."

Morgan edged away from her mates with as much stealth as she could muster. Her magic stirred, muffling her movements, agreeing with her that it was imperative they keep her mates safe. She came to a stop by the table next to Caedmon. He stiffened, noticed her presence, but didn't order her back.

She could've kissed him.

Thanatos chuckled, like her predicament amused him, then he spoke and her life as she knew it crumbled. "She is the key. If she dies, the gates of Tartarus will fall."

It was all she could do not to go over there and deck the asshole for spilling her secrets. "Enough."

The focus of the room turned toward her, and a few of her men cursed, shooting her betrayed, accusing looks when they realized she was no longer standing behind them. She glanced at Thanatos, refusing to be intimidated by talking to the man who personified death.

Fuck me.

"Explain this accord, and why I'm being dragged into it and hunted down like a criminal." Though Morgan didn't trust gods much, she trusted the fae even less, which was saying something.

Thanatos ran a hand down his front and fussed with his tie, giving her a wry grin. "War between the gods is messy business. All races were impacted and suffered. It was decided the gods would be contained. The old gods decided to slumber, but the younger ones fought back. They didn't want to give up their newfound power."

"You mean banished to Tartarus," she interrupted. She wanted the truth of what really happened, not just a watered-down version of events.

His brows rose at her challenge, his eyes twinkling, a hint of a smile lurking on his lips. "Not everyone was banished. In fact, a number of gods went to Tartarus voluntarily."

He seemed to deflate, running a hand over the top of his head. "We were all supposed to be locked away, start a new life, but it was discovered that removing all divine beings would cause magic to fade from the world.

"It was decided that twelve gods would remain behind, live their life as humanly as possible, and not draw attention to themselves. Slots were drawn randomly, and we were given territories around the world." Thanatos nodded toward the elves. "To keep us in check, a treaty was created with the elves."

"But not all fae agreed with what should be done." Aoibh clasped her hands in front of her, the serenity in her expression not allowing any emotions to leak through. "The light fae agreed that keeping the gods contained was the best chance for survival. Unfortunately, the dark fae disagreed and fought back. They wanted the gods to remain free, wanted the power they would gain if the world remained flooded with magic."

A little smirk tilted the corner of her lips when her coveted gaze landed on Caedmon. "The seelie queen will be so happy with your return. Come. You must be thrilled to finally resume your rightful spot as the queen's personal assassin."

Morgan grimaced at the way she'd summoned Caedmon home like he was a dog to be called to heel. "Sorry, but that won't be possible."

The denial was instinctual. She feared that if he dared return, he would never be free again. For some personal reason she couldn't name, Aoibh wanted him.

Thanks to the curse he carried, he was tainted.

They would no longer see him as one of them, but something to be used like the wolves. Despite his age and power and being blessed by the gods, he would be considered a prisoner of the court.

A shadow rippled across Aoibh's face. For just a brief flash, a second face appeared underneath—that of a haggard, emaciated old woman. It was like getting a glimpse of her soul, where darkness had its deathly grip tightly wrapped around it.

The bitch wasn't going to give him up without a fight.

Plans for him already swirled in her pale blue eyes.

Caedmon flinched at the threat, just a slight flex of muscle in his jaw before he could hide it.

He didn't want to return, and she feared that there was nothing that she could do about it without causing a war.

The hunter moon on her arm heated, then got so cold, it went numb. Through the gauzy material of the gown, she saw shadows moving over the surface of the moon, the red darkening to an ominous shade of blood.

Caedmon was in trouble.

Stomach churning with dread, she whirled toward Caedmon. He stood rigid, his muscles straining, a rumbling growl trapped in his chest.

Like he couldn't fucking move.

"Stop!" She placed her hand on his arm and energy surged through her so strongly, her back bowed, her muscles locked tight, and her teeth clinked shut. She inhaled through her nose and breathed through the pain. Her magic rose at the challenge, and she closed her eyes as she absorbed the painful shocks, pulling it from Caedmon until he was free.

Shouting erupted throughout the room, and she gritted her teeth as the void magic swirled through her core in agitation. It wanted out, wanted free to rip apart those who would dare harm what was theirs.

C aedmon didn't feel the invasive magic creeping over him until it was too late. He tried to fight back, tried to shuck off the magic, but it had sunk into his bones and taken root. His beast roared in his head, his claws and teeth slashing at his insides, desperate to break free.

But the wolf had been leashed.

Aoibh had always been a bitch, even when she tried to bring him to heel back when he had been a royal guard.

And his defiance had gotten him volunteered on a mission that was guaranteed to kill him.

Only he'd survived, and now she wanted him back.

Everything inside him rebelled at the thought of leaving Morgan, especially when she was in such danger. But as the seconds ticked passed, he could feel his will fade.

It would be so nice to return and protect Faerie once more.

Back where he belonged.

A light touch landed on his arm, then the hand clamped down, and the wild magic trying to control him was stripped away like flesh was being ripped from his bones.

He instantly recognized that touch.

His mate.

Morgan.

His beast howled in denial as she pulled that toxic magic away and took it as her own. The debilitating pain rippled through her, and his beast completely lost his shit. With a roar, he gathered the ruined magic deep in his core that he had vowed never to touch again.

He used to have a talent for manipulating animals. When he became infected by the self-defense measures on Tartarus, his magic mutated.

He became the beast.

With the effects of the wendigo fading, he discovered a taint remained.

A craving for magic.

He'd been testing it out subtly, but every attempt to use his power basically siphoned the magic from anyone near him.

The only exception was Morgan and her mates.

He was like a null, and if the paranormal world ever discovered the truth, they would hunt him down and eliminate the threat.

All that control vanished when Morgan became hurt, and he surrendered to the chaotic magic, unleashing every ounce of it. It blasted through the room like a sonic boom. Chairs flew and crashed into the wall so hard, they splintered. Vines rippled, tearing off leaves. The table skidded a few feet across the floor.

He had just enough control to send it toward the threat.

Morgan's mates cursed as they caught the tail end of the blast, bracing themselves under the onslaught. Hell, Kincade and Ryder hardly even reacted, completely unaffected by the chaos.

Unfortunately, Aoibh and her men managed to put up a shield in time to save their lives. The shield cracked after a few seconds, forcing them back, practically flinging them out the door, where they crumpled.

Three managed to climb to their feet, ready to throw magic in retaliation. He quickly stepped in front of Morgan, ready to take the brunt of their wrath…only the rest of Morgan's mates had stepped forward, already in action. Caedmon could still sense the fae magic swirling around the room, but Morgan was doing something to keep it at bay.

Atlas lit up with magic, the vegetation around the room rising to his call. Vines shot out, capturing two of the fae before they could retaliate, the cords like a boa constrictor wrapping up around their legs and trapping their arms.

Draven and Kincade remained behind to protect Morgan, while Ryder and Ascher leapt toward the two remaining guards, aggression pouring off the two, their beasts more in control then their human side with their mate being threatened.

He knew the sensation well, his own beast was clawing him up inside, wanting to shed his human skin and rip apart those who dared threaten his mate and bathe in their blood.

Aoibh rose to her full height, but instead of outrage, something worse was reflected in her eyes—possessiveness. She wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.

Him.

The guards pulled back at her signal. Fire erupted from one of the two guards still bound, burning away the bindings. Draven's blue eyes darkened like a thunderstorm, and quickly doused the flames before the fire could be used against them.

Whatever attack they were under vanished, and Caedmon caught Morgan close when her legs threatened to give out. She leaned trustingly against his chest, and he closed his eyes at the feel of her in his arms, inhaling her intoxicating scent of honeysuckle and magic. Her eyes fluttered as she gazed up at him, the violet color instantly capturing his full attention, the rest of the world falling away.

She didn't jerk away from him in revulsion.

There was no fear or disgust.

And the last piece of his heart that he'd tried to protect for fear that she would reject him was now completely hers.

He was hers.

Now.

Forever.

Always.

Her hand fisted the front of his shirt, her touch possessive, and a darkness entered her eyes. She glanced across the room as the fae struggled to get to their feet. They looked shell-shocked at the change of events .

Morgan's voice was harsh when she spoke. "You sent him to protect the gate. To save your own ass, you sacrificed him like he was nothing. No regret. No remorse. Now that he's alive and healing, you want him back. Not fucking happening."

She stepped in front of him, a proud warrior, and his chest swelled with pride at the sight of his beautiful mate.

She was worth all the pain, all the hardship.

And if given a choice, he'd do it all again, just for the chance to be worthy of being her mate.

"It's past time that you leave," Morgan said, crossing her arms.

It wasn't a suggestion.

Morgan was simply magnificent as she stood up to renowned elven warriors without even batting a lash.

Before any of the fae contingent could argue, Thanatos nodded. "Agreed. You broke the accords by attacking one of her mates. She has every right to kill you without fear of retribution."

Caedmon stiffened, his breath halting in his chest as fear threatened to consume him. He'd been beyond thrilled to discover she was his mate. He'd never thought he would have someone to call his own…until he saw her expression.

May the gods have mercy on his soul.

His heart actually ached at the denial and sheer panic on her face. He shoved down his own feelings, needing to protect her, and prayed that with enough time, he could convince her to love him.