25. What’s Mine is Yours

The Present

"Now you see," Naia sniveled. "Those I cherish are always taken away from me."

Ronin sat up. "Dammit, Naia." He ran his fingers through his hair, curling their ends in his fist. "You didn't deserve any of that. Worst of all, after they put you through so much hell, not once did you think about retaliating." He scowled. "You're too fucking good for them."

"It wasn't that I never thought about it. I wished to be free. Live my life." She cleaned her face with the heel of her hand. "I'm sorry if I showed you too much."

He lifted his head, revealing his tightly knitted brow. "Stop apologizing. You can show me whatever the fuck you want to show me, but don't expect me not to be angry or sad about it. Like I said earlier, I care about you, so it fucking kills me to see what you had to go through."

She lightly placed her hand on his rigid arm. "I appreciate how much you care."

His eyes filled with a familiar, dark glint, his lips thinning. "They lay another goddamn hand on you, I'll send them to the Land of the Dead myself."

She wasn't sure what to call the sensation warming in her chest. Whatever it was, she was equally joyful about it, as she was terrified to see the lengths Ronin would go.

He studied her for a long second, and then exhaled.

Ronin dropped his chin and stared down at the floor, and she could tell he was trying to reel in his frustration.

This was new territory for her, seeing someone angry on her behalf. She wasn't sure how to tread through these waters. Unlike Solaris, Ronin would never hesitate to come to her aid, regardless of the consequences. It was an assurance and a promise she'd always needed to lower her guard with someone.

Naia rested her forehead on his jaw as it ticked. I hear you, her gesture said. He could be furious, but she would sit in it with him.

He turned and pressed his nose against her hairline, breathing her in. "You've always smelled like a flower garden. A sweet, floral fragrance I could never identify. But now I understand."

She wiped her snotty nose with the back of her fingers and glanced at him through her damp lashes. "What do you mean?"

His fingers slid over her nape and up into her hair. "It's not perfume or body oil. It's just… you. The daughter of the High God of Nature. You're ethereal, Naia. Beautiful and strong and so incredibly brave."

His words moved pieces within her, the way the earth folded into itself to form a mountain, softening her old scars and unhealed bruises. Naia wanted to thank him for saying such kind things, for making her feel comfortable and safe after exposing so much to him. She'd shown him from her earliest memories as a child to the moment in her bedchamber with Solaris after Kaleo's death. Now she felt wrung dry.

"Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere."Ronin sat up on the couch, and with a wave of his hand, conjured up clothes folded neatly on the table in front of them.

Naia reached for the pair of jeans, slipping into them one leg at a time. She peeked over at Ronin, who was already fully dressed and sliding into a pair of boots.

She pulled the baggy, purple plaid shirt over her head, the one she'd seen him wear once before. The fusion of jasmine and sage embedded in the material; it was grounding.

Ronin waited for her by the doorway, his arm outstretched for her hand.

She gave it to him, and he led her out of the brewery.

During the drive across the city, he didn't let her go. Their fingers remained intertwined on his thigh. Windows rolled down, spitting their hair all over the place. The blue and purple lights of the street flushed a berry glow across his profile. It was easy to spot remnants of his younger self. Even when he was a child, his eyes had the age of a gemstone.She could hardly believe they'd met once before. Back then, she'd simply longed to save his life, unknowing who he would become to her in the future.

By the time she'd refocused through her window, the scenery was a forest's silhouette. They traveled up a winding road to higher elevation, catching glimpses of the distant city between the crevices of trees.

Ronin pulled off onto a gravel driveway. Up ahead was a tall, iron fence. From inside, flickering firelight cast shadows of the massive oak trees onto the grass.

Naia got out of the car, greeted by a musky, piney scent. The bluff they were on held a spectacular view of the city. A sea of dazzling lights and skyscrapers reaching into the abyss of smoke-gray clouds.

Ronin strolled around the car and grabbed Naia's hand. "Come on."

Gravel crunched beneath their feet. Standing at the entrance of the spiked gate were two individuals. The man had a loose tie around the collar of his white button-up, and the woman had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her tie perfectly lined over her reflective buttons. Two black blazers were lying on the ground nearby, stacked atop one another.

At the sight of Ronin, they both gave a small bow.

"Nikki. Collin," he greeted with a casual head nod.

Naia's footfalls scuffed the cement path through the graveyard. She spun her head around, attempting to get a layout of her surroundings, but she could hardly focus and walk at the same time. She tugged lightly on Ronin's grip, but his speed didn't let up.

The air smelled of sandalwood and saffron. They passed a ritual slab covered in melted candles and mortars and thin, frail branches of herbs, surrounded by a group. Some had their eyes closed, murmuring under their breaths. Others were reading from grimoires and holding muddled conversation.

They passed rows and rows of tombstones decorated in lit pillar candles with melted wax oozing down the sides. People lingered along the pathway. Some held drinks in their hands. Others walked around, lighting incense with the flick of their wrists. Like the two standing at the entrance, most of them wore mismatched pieces of black suits.

However, each person they passed bent slightly at the waist, keeping their back and neck straight in a solemn bow.

Ronin acknowledged each of them by their names.

In the graveyard's center stood a stone mausoleum, decorated with spires and pinnacles. Its entrance was a pointed arch, and more people came and went from inside.

Naia walked up the steps leading to the side of the structure. Ronin stopped and let go of her hand.

There was a mural painted across the stone.

Naia's breath froze like arctic water in her lungs, and her mouth spread apart.

This painting was different from the one she'd seen on the brick wall of Madam Maeve's Café or on the skin of the Blood Heretics. It was more… detailed. The woman's diamond-shaped face, her silver strands, her closed eyes adorned with pale lashes—the details of her button features were immaculate and gripping.

She spun her head around to Ronin, her tongue feeling heavy. "What is this?"

"I first drew this picture when I was twelve." Ronin stared down at his feet as he spoke. "The day after you saved me. I never wanted to forget your face."

My face.

She blinked at it in disbelief. "You can draw?"

"Yeah." He popped his knuckles with his thumb at his sides. "It's a… secret hobby, I guess."

She could see him, younger, sitting at a desk with coffee somewhere nearby, as Naia was convinced his addiction started at an early age. His paper and pencils and eraser shavings were strewn around him. He had intense concentration etched into his brow while sketching the outline of her face—down to every small eyelash.

When she'd thought she was nothing to everyone, she'd always been someone to him.

"You are everywhere in this city, Naia. Painted on its buildings, on my Blood Heretics, on me. The city is just as much yours as it is mine. I am yours."

She faced him, and he stared at her, eyes brilliant and burning for her alone.

"You will always have a home here, in me, and I promise you, I will do everything in my power to not let them take anything else away from you. Happiness, freedom, whatever you want. I will make sure it is yours."

A lump swelled in her throat as she intently stared at him. Passion she'd never known before welled up within her. Unafraid to truly look at him and reciprocate his adoration. Ronin was toogood, and she couldn't help that protective nature in her to deny such a wonderful dream right before her.

"I would love to make you my home," she said. "But what if I am taken away from you?"

His hand settled on her cheek, swiping his thumb over her wobbling lips. "I will find you, no matter where you go."

She relaxed into his palm, feeling more at home in his touch than she'd ever felt in the walls of her mother's palace.

Ronin held up his other hand and offered her his pinky. He wore a ring with a scarlet gemstone in its center—identical to the one on her bracelet. The jewels both shined faintly, as if he was sealing his vow with a spell.

A small grin slipped across her mouth, recalling the last time they did this, and she curled her pinky around his. "Never let me go," she murmured.

Ronin gently pulled her into him. "Never," he swore with a kiss.

"Where are we?" she asked, her lips moving against his as she did so.

"Blood Heretics' graveyard." He kept his forehead fused to hers. "It's where we lay those of us to rest who pass on. Because it's on a ley line, it's also where a lot of us come to train newbies or recharge when our magical reserve is low."

The clearing of a throat off to the side of them startled Naia.

Ronin turned towards the woman with piercings on her lips glinting in the candlelight. "What's up, Soph?"

The girl smiled in greeting, flicking her brunette braid over her shoulder. "We are roasting marshmallows, if you two want to join us?"

Ronin looked at Naia, eyebrows drawn up in inquisition.

She beamed. "I would love to try a marshmallow."

Ronin smiled, as if he hadn't expected anything less, and a gooey sensation spread through her chest like melted sap.

Together, they followed the woman down the pathway they'd come. Everyone they passed on their small journey gave another respectful bow.

Naia leaned over to whisper in Ronin's ear, "Do they bow like this in your presence all the time?"

Laughter spewed from Ronin so suddenly it caused Naia to jolt and Soph to glance over her shoulder at him.

Naia's cheeks reddened, and she elbowed him in the ribcage. "Stop laughing! You're causing them to stare even more."

Ronin grunted, grabbing at the spot she hit, still shaking with light laughter.

"They're not bowing to me." He reached up and playfully tugged at the ends of her strands. "They're bowing to their goddess."

She gaped at him in confusion.

Ronin winked, clearly finding satisfaction in her response.

Before she could voice her thoughts, they approached a group of people surrounding a tall fire, talking amongst themselves. The vibrant flames popped and danced, and the light breeze carried the smell of firewood into Naia's hair.

"We have a guest tonight!" Soph clapped with a jump in her step. She walked over to a tote filled with plastic bags of fluffy, white cylinders and metal sticks.

Heads turned in Naia and Ronin's direction. Realization settled across their faces, one after another. Men and women, she did not know the names of, bowed to her with a profound sense of loyalty that made absolutely no sense.

Who was she to them but an unknown goddess, a myth?

"Everyone, this is Naia." Ronin's hand rested on the small of her back. "Goddess of the Blood Heretics."

Her breath caught at the title. Tears stung the back of her nose, brimming in her eyes. The cacophony of hi'sand hello'smade her grin like a happy, soddened fool.

Goddess of the Blood Heretics.

She repeated the title like a beautiful lyric of a song stuck in her head, blinking away her tears.

Soph handed her the metal stick with a marshmallow on its tip. "I prefer mine burnt. What about you?"

Naia stared in fascination at the white treat. "I am not sure. I've never tried one."

"Don't listen to her." Another girl stepped up from the circle, her long, black hair in tiny braids reaching down to her waist. "I'll show you how to get it gooey without frying it to hell."

Ronin gently eased her towards the others, stealing a quick kiss on the back of her head.

Naia rolledthe globe-like object from each of her hands as she inspected the pin prick dots on its glossy surface. "A bomb?" she echoed, disbelieving and skeptical, unsure how it would work.

Avi sniffed the inside of a jar of frog legs, made a face, and tossed them into the bubbling cauldron in the center of the room.

"A magical one," he said.

The steam rising from the concoction smelled like Alke's bird piss and three-day-old raw salmon.

"How does it work?" She stepped away from the cauldron when a floating bottle labeled goattongues flew past her shoulder. One of the soft pink organs dropped into the mixture.

Ronin sat in a chair on the other side of Avi's cauldron. "We fill them with my blood, and when they detonate, they bring down any gods in the vicinity," he said.

"How many are you planning on filling?"she asked.

"Considering we have buckets full of his blood stored, I'd say as many as we need to." Theon leaned against the workbench covered with dried herbs, half-melted candles, and miscellaneous potion bottles with labels Naia intentionally avoided reading.He paid her no attention, scrolling through his phone.

"Those fuckers hunting you down don't stand a chance." Avi's confidence was, unfortunately, not contagious.

He was too busy reading through the levitating grimoire near his lap to notice the look of disapproval Naia gave him.

Ronin didn't miss it, though.

"I do bloodletting every day," he reminded her. "Blood not used for making beer, we'll use in the bombs. Select members of the Blood Heretics have access to them, if your sister shows up, they will set them off."

Naia chewed on the inside of her cheek.

While she admired his calm attitude as he regarded Marina, she couldn't match his composure. The mere thought of her sister unboxed deep-rooted anger and rational worry inside of her.

What was the likelihood of the bomb's effectiveness? Naia imagined several of them simultaneously going off all at once and slinging Ronin's blood everywhere. It would be impossible, even for Marina, to avoid a speck of it landing on her. Right?

"We don't know when or where she will find us," she countered. "What if none of the Blood Heretics are around when she appears?"

Ronin lifted from his chair and sauntered around the cauldron to her. He pulled a hand from his pocket to slip around her waist and tug her closer. "When they're not around, you'll have me."

Things were different this time. Ronin was a witch of the Himura bloodline. Unlike Kaleo, he was not defenseless against the gods.

She leaned her body against his and heat blossomed behind her ribcage.

Things had been this way since they'd slept together in his office. It seemed impossible to keep their hands off one another.

When they returned to his apartment after visiting the Blood Heretics graveyard, they'd spent the hours of the early morning intimately exploring the curves and valleys of each other's bodies in his bed.

Naia now knew how to elicit certain sounds from him; how to awaken a ravenous look in his eyes. Consumed by her desire to swim in its waters that she failed to consider his bodily needs. It was only when streaks of sunlight pierced through his windows did she notice his fair skin taking on a rosy shade, and his eyelids struggling to stay open while she trailed kisses along his collarbones.

Naia slid her hands up his forearms and settled around his neck, clamping down her hunger for more of him.

Avi groaned, disrupting the moment between Ronin and Naia.

They both rotated to look at him.

He swiveled around on his stool. "Theon, I specifically asked for a jackalope antler, not a damn stag."

Not even the mask could hide the level of boredom on the god's face as he brought his gaze up from his phone onto Avi. "You said nothing about antlers when you sent me to forage for you."

"Bullshit. Go find me a jackalope."

"Those creatures are close to impossible to hunt down."

Ronin's fingers twitched around her waist, and she peeked at him. His eyes descended to her lips, stirring a sensation in the bottom of her belly.

"Better get fucking started then," Avi said. "According to our bet you lost, you have to forage for me for a month."

"If you weren't half blind, or had a better organizational system, you'd see it's right here." Reaching up on the messy shelf, Theon dug in one of the many jars and pulled out an antler, its points wider than the one Avi claimed was of a stag.

"Oh." Avi laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "My bad, dude."

Theon tossed the antler into the cauldron and slouched back on his stool, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "And I did not lose our bet. You cheated."

Avi flashed a smile. "That's what sore losers say."

Ronin's fingers slid between the hem of Naia's shirt and jeans, lighting a fire in her skin.

She cleared her throat, refocusing her attention on Avi and handed the magical bomb back to him. "Here."

In exchange, he held out the vial of sludge he'd made. "Take a swig every day. When you run out, tell me."

The serious demand in his tone piqued Naia's curiosity, but also made her uneasy.

She held the vial up full of the mucus green potion to examine it, her nostrils flaring at its unpleasantness. "Whatever for?"

"It will counter any symptoms you have if Ronin's blood touches you."

She looked at Ronin for confirmation, and he nodded.

How they cared about her safety was endearing, but the existence of the potion frazzled her. "Is this easily accessible? Can other mages create it?"

Ronin's blood obviously unnerved Marina. It explained why she had not come for Naia yet. Marina was methodical and calculated, and she would not rush in without knowing about Ronin and his blood. This potion was the perfect solution.

"If Marina finds out about this, she will take you hostage and make you create it for her alone." Naia pointed at Avi more aggressively than she meant to. If Marina caused him harm, Naia wasn't sure what she'd do. She had little faith in herself up against her sister. "The fact it has been a day since the charity event, and she still hasn't come for me, says she is planning. If she catches wind this potion exists, she will ravage this city. Do you understand?"

Avi blinked at Naia. "Uh, well, I…"

Theon raised his arm to the shelf again and pulled out a jar of what appeared to be full of mushrooms.

He plucked one out and handed it to her. "Eat this."

Naia looked between the white mushroom and him. "What is it?"

"A sedative."

She scowled and chucked the mushroom at him. "You are, I believe the most common phrase they go by these days is, an ass."

Theon's eyes flickered with amusement. "Asshole would probably be more fitting, but close enough."

Avi reached down and picked up the mushroom broken into pieces on the floor. "You know how I feel about wasting my ingredients."

Naia spun around to Ronin with a silent demand for him to chime in and answer her questions, but his cell phone began vibrating incessantly from his pocket.

"Avi created the potion." He slipped his phone from his pocket and looked down at thescreen, then back up at her. "He keeps it locked away with a blood spell. Nobody else besides us in this room knows of it—not even Finnian. And if Marina found a way to get it, it wouldn't work on her because the potion requires personalized ingredients—like the strand of your hair I plucked from your shirt seconds after we arrived. But I fucking dare your sister to try and steal what isn't hers. Gives me a reason to vent my anger."

He gave the end of her strands a light tug before heading towards the door, his phone already up to his ear. "Yeah?"

Her stomach fluttered as she watched him stroll out of the room. The size of his confidence was astonishing, while also completely believable. A mere mortal referring to a High Goddess like Marina as a minor obstacle in his path. It was impressive—and equally foolish.

"Theon takes it too," Avi informed her as vials levitated over his head and began filling with the potion. "After being sprayed with Ronin's blood a few times, the bastard threw a hissy fit?—"

Avi barely got the last word out before a layer of ice encased his lips.

"The taste of the potion is atrocious," Theon said.

Avi's face contorted, and he howled a stream of incoherent insults through his sealed mouth.

Naia gave Theon a flat look, gesturing to Avi with her finger. "Was that necessary?"

Theon shrugged, matching Ronin's nonchalant attitude. "Who defines what necessary is?"

Naia rolled her eyes, and Avi dug through a shelf below his workbench. He pulled out a vial full of bright yellow potion and poured the viscous liquid over his mouth. The ice melted immediately.

He spun around to Theon, his face cherry red, and the muscles in his broad arms straining. "Fuckingasshole!"

Theon passed him a mocking wave, traces of his smirk in the way his eyes bunched up above his mask, and headed for the door.