10. Wade

10

WADE

" H ow are you here?"

I turned to the voice and did a double take.

"Serae?"

My aunt.

As usual, she exuded power, her hair in box braids, with gold beadwork that brought out the natural glow of her skin.

But while she always seemed powerful, in control, today there was something off—almost unraveled about her. Her posture was slightly rigid, poised for attack as her eyes darted to me, then around the dark room, searching for answers to questions I wasn't privy to.

The room we were in wasn't familiar to me, nor was it particularly opulent as our dream-walking meetings often were. She was fond of style, but this room was plain, decidedly lacking.

"I don't," I took a step closer to her, tension rubbing off on me as I searched for a door, a window, a place of weakness open for attack. "I don't know."

I didn't even remember sleeping, to be honest. I'd left the cabin, practically drunk on the power flaring through the group. It was too much for me to handle, the lust of them all magnified and vibrating against me as if it was my own—I needed to leave, to breathe.

While I'd grown stronger, better at recognizing and controlling the energy I fed on, something about the strength of it had been too much to resist, to lap up in small doses. So I left out of fear I'd drain them all of it.

Even still, I'd had to go a few miles out. The night was cold, but the heart of their…encounters made it hardly noticeable. I found a dark path through the woods and followed it, trying like hell to keep from running back to them—to her—to feed on them all.

"I was at the lake," I started, not sure that it really mattered. She had no idea where we were. "Walked to the other side to get some distance. Climbed up a goddamn mountain, but I could still feel her—the bonds, they're—" I shook my head, unable to find a single word or phrase that could adequately describe how strong the connection had been. Incredible? Terrifying? Neither seemed enough to truly capture how it'd felt. Even now, I could feel myself start to stiffen, just from the memory of it.

Hell, I'd had to jack off three times in the woods, just from the sheer force of that power. And coming in the dark, my jizz disappearing into the snow, while I was alone, wasn't exactly my idea of a good solo encounter. But I'd still come so hard that my vision blurred, my ears ringing from the intensity of it.

Not that I'd admit that part to my aunt. Succubus or not, I still needed some privacy where my sex life was concerned.

"I must have fallen asleep. I didn't realize you could reach me across the realm divide." I scanned the place again—the room was empty, save for two stiff, rather unremarkable chairs. "Not exactly to your usual taste, is it?"

"I can't," she narrowed her eyes, "reach you through realms. This isn't my dreamscape, it's yours. You brought me here, boy, not the other way around."

"Not intentionally."

"Hm." She pursed her lips, then sat down in one of the chairs. "What's happened? Are you sure you're not in the hell realm? This shouldn't be possible."

"Positive. And, honestly, a lot."

Where did I start? With Atlas killing our father? With Max burning down Headquarters? With the Defiance? Our new half-baked plan to take out The Guild council?

Her head tilted to the side slightly as she watched me. "There's something different about you—your power, it's strong. More so than usual. Stronger, even, than the girl's was last time I saw her." Her tongue wet her bottom lip, as if she could taste it. "How?" She nodded to the other chair. "Sit. Tell me, what's going on in your world?"

I did as she asked, feeling awkward as fuck as I collapsed in the chair, my arms folded across my chest, as if that could dispel whatever power surge she was feeling. "The bonds have grown stronger."

Her dark brow arched. "Yes, obviously. Still, I don't know how you're able to reach me. Bonds grow strength, sure, but this—" she shook her head, eyes narrowed, "this is unlike anything I've ever felt." As if testing her point, she raised her hand, face contorted in focus for what felt like minutes. "I have no control here, my power unable to even suggest or move the room you've crafted." She leaned back in the chair. "Curious."

"It's not just my bond with Max," I started, not sure how much to share with her, but she was probably the only person who could offer us any clarity. "It's the entire group. We can hear her thoughts, and she ours, can feel her power, and one of us—" I watched for a moment, considering, "and one of us has even channeled her powers."

Her face flattened, no longer legible to me. With careful, eerily graceful moves, she stood and walked over to me, crouching when she was a foot away. Her eyes, dark as night, bore into mine, searching for something.

"Um," I cleared my throat, unsure what to do under her perusal—something about her stare unsettled me, like she could see way more than I wanted her to. Like she could see parts of me that were off limits even to me.

With a hiss, she took several steps back, her movements jilted and awkward as her eyes widened—half shock, half horror.

"There's a new, deep strength in you. A strength that wasn't there before—distilled, powerful. I don't know the details of what Lucifer has planned for her, but I'd dare say she's nearly ready."

My stomach clenched at that. I knew that Max's power was the key to potentially saving the world—from keeping hell from downright combusting, but the lack of details we'd been given made me uneasy.

I trusted Serae, for the most part. But I didn't trust Lucifer.

"But there's a darkness growing there too, unsettled and hungry—unlike anything I've seen in a very long time. And power. Too much power. Something is off, something is festering, unbalanced."

"What do you mean?" I hated the fact that I could hear the anxiety lacing my voice.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, clearly focused, though she didn't come closer again. "It doesn't stem from you, but you might be the best tool to control it."

"How so? What is it?"

She shook her head, eyes still pressed closed, like she could somehow sense more clearly without her vision. "I don't know. But your power is strong, the girl is a siphon and a catalyst between you all. And you feed on energy.

"I feed on lust. "

"Darkness, lust, they aren't so different. You feed on emotions, on passions. They come from many places. Whatever I'm sensing in you, it calls to me, which means you will feel it too, when you focus. When you search for it. You can draw it out, balance it before it corrupts you, before it corrupts your bond group."

"How?"

Her lips twisted into a smirk as she found her way back to the chair. "Same as you pull all energy, nephew. What destroys and corrupts others, can feed us. Our connection to shadow magic is unlike that which most other demons have. And the girl's connection is obviously even stronger. You and her will be the cure. Your bonded group is large, complicated…," she licked her lips, as if she could taste it, "powerful. It will fall on you two to keep the balance, the stability. It's a big job, but an important one—if you're to survive."

"That's all you can tell me?"

Serae wasn't exactly known for her specificity, but this was taking things to another level.

She shrugged. "This is unprecedented. I've had a long life, seen many things, but even I don't have the answers you seek, don't know the powers and limitations of this girl you've been tied to. Let the power guide you—linger in it, feel it, taste it, understand it. And once you have, you'll know what to do with it," she paused for a moment, before adding, "at least I hope so. For all of our sakes."

Fucking great.

We didn't just have the weight of the world on our soldiers, but some mysterious magic infecting our bond group. Could we not catch one single fucking break?

We sat in silence for a few moments, and I used the time to try and sense whatever darkness she'd picked up on, focusing as she'd taught me, but reading my own energy was more difficult than sensing that of others .

"Could it be from my brother?" I met her eyes. "Atlas was attacked by a drude, he's been off since Max rescued him." I winced. Off didn't really begin to cover it. I'd hardly spent any time with him since his return, but when I did, I found myself making excuses to leave. We'd both changed so much in the last few months, the gulf between us felt monumental. And closing it seemed like such a trivial thing to focus on in light of everything. "He's in pain—" I searched for a way to describe it, but came up wanting, "like…metaphysically, if that makes sense?"

"It does." Her jaw line was sharp as she nodded. "I don't think that's what I'm sensing in you, but I suppose that could be it. I have very little personal experience with Nightmares, and have never met someone who's survived an encounter with one untouched."

I shifted in my seat and pulled at a loose thread hanging from the bottom of my shirt.

The possibility that Atlas might be forever marred by the drude made me sick to my stomach, even in this dream world where such feelings should be left with my physical body.

"It was our father." I hated the taste of that word on my tongue. "He's the reason Atlas is suffering. The son of a bitch fucking fed him to the drude."

Serae took a deep breath, her lips stiff as she watched me. "I've always known that Tarren was a bad man. But it's hard to imagine that anyone would willingly put their children through what yours has put you boys through." Her chin lifted slightly, posture lengthening. "For what it's worth, and believe me I realize it can't be worth much to you, not now, not when you have so much else to worry about—but your mother would have never left you with him, if she'd had any say in the matter. We didn't agree on many things, but I know it would have killed her to see the pain he's caused you boys."

"He's dead now." The words held little meaning to me as I spoke them. I searched through myself, expecting to find sadness, or at least regret that things ended the way they did between us. But all I felt was anger—and gratitude to Atlas for doing the thing I'd spent nights plotting in my head.

She said nothing to that, just continued studying me with that laser-like focus of hers. I knew she could see, and feel, the parts of the conversation I didn't feel like sharing or feeling. Serae specialized in reading people—had honed her powers to identify and isolate information and emotions in her subjects.

I shifted again, uncomfortable under her gaze.

"I didn't etch that for you," she finally said. Her eyes caught on my arm, where my bond mark curled beneath my shirt, and her face softened in awe. "No, that's a true mark."

She folded her hands in her lap, stiff like she was keeping herself from closing the distance between us to trace the lines.

I ran my hand over it, uncomfortable under her stare. "Yes."

Her body sank back into the chair, some of the earlier tension dissolving. "You are happy. I can feel how happy she makes you."

"She does. I am." I didn't bother trying to hide the love-sick grin on my face. "I feel a little guilty being as happy as I am, if I'm honest."

I hadn't intended that confession, but Serae had a way of pulling things out of me that even I didn't understand or realize until they were there, spilled out in front of me.

She tilted her head, the question silent but poignant all the same.

"With Atlas the way he is, with the barrier between worlds unraveling—it seems a bit selfish to have found happiness now."

She nodded, something unreadable in her eyes, "I understand where you're coming from, but I'm going to urge you to resist it. It is not selfish to be alive, to allow yourself the space to enjoy the few precious things life has to offer. I hope that you can hold on to that. Happiness is a rare gift these days. One few are afforded. It would be almost callous to turn your back on it, to reject a thing so many would give their lives for." Her eyes narrowed on me, seeing into the depths in that way only she seemed capable of. It was unsettling. "And you've been through a lot, Wade. It's not only happiness you feel—I can see the lingering pain in you, the anxiety that wraps around you and tightens like a snake. Love, happiness—understanding that you're worthy of both—just might be the keys to helping you become even stronger. We can't help others if we're drowning ourselves. Do you understand?"

I nodded, unable to find the words. Some unnamed emotion stuck in my throat, like a large iron golf ball. My eyes clouded over as I cleared my throat, fighting back whatever reaction was struggling to get out.

She came over to me and grabbed my hand in hers. Her skin was soft, warm, and sent a wave of comfort from the tips of my fingers to my spine. She pressed her free hand to my cheek, gentle but firm, until my eyes met hers.

"You have too much weight on your shoulders, my boy," she said, her voice a soft whisper that still held more than enough strength for the two of us, "and you always have. I know you haven't lived a happy life, that there have been many trials in your way. I wish more than anything that you had easier options, a different path behind and before you." Her thumb grazed my jaw as her hand fell back to her side. "But for what it's worth, I'm very proud to call you my nephew, my family. I only wish that I could have been there for you sooner."

She cleared her throat and stepped back, blinking rapidly, like she'd caught herself off guard with the statement.

Warmth enveloped me, the vise that usually gripped at my chest suddenly more like a hug than a hindrance.

I'd never met my mother, and my father was an absolute ass hat. I wasn't used to these conversations from family, this support, this advice—it was unfamiliar, uncomfortable, but it was also…nice.

As I watched her, she seemed more weary than usual. She was still regal and striking, but there was a guardedness that hadn't been there before, her posture less confident, less sure. Barely-perceptible lines framed the corners of her eyes—fragile concern where there'd once been only a teasing delight, a softening.

"What's happening in hell? With Lucifer?" I asked, feeling a desperate need to break the heavy silence between us, to make this encounter as productive as it could be. It wasn't often we had a glimpse into the other realm without being pulled to it—and it would be a shame if I wasted the opportunity to learn more about what we were up against. Our sad family legacy could wait for another time. "Is there anything you can tell me about him, about his plans for Max? Anything I can be doing to protect her?"

She took a deep breath, expression unreadable.

"You see things others don't," I pressed, hoping to leverage her sudden vulnerability and openness to more useful purposes, "please. You said you wanted to help me, and this is what I need help with right now. We have so little information about what's to come."

"I'm sorry." She shook her head, her nostrils flaring slightly as she tried to reign in some emotion I couldn't access. "I have nothing that can help you—I wouldn't deny you information if I had it, if I thought it could do you good. No one has heard from Lucifer in weeks, nearly a month now."

"A month?" That didn't make any sense. "Max hasn't been back that long. Not even two weeks."

She shrugged. "Time does not work here as it does there, you know this."

"Yeah, but usually days there are weeks or months here. "

"Time is unstable, the magic out of balance. Do not be so arrogant as to think you can predict the way that it will move."

I swallowed my retort. "Fine, but what do you mean he's been missing for weeks?"

"I mean just that. It's not uncommon for him to disappear for long stretches of time." She exhaled, long and slow, and I could see the weight hanging over her shoulders—she was worried about him. They weren't exactly friends, from what I understood—I didn't think Lucifer really had anyone that could be called a friend in the traditional sense—but they weren't enemies either. "But something feels different this time. He was unwell for a while, weaker than usual—though I know that shouldn't be possible. Demons with his power don't become unwell in the traditional sense. But last time I saw him, he was coming undone. Consumed with research, with tracking people down that no one has heard word of in years." Her eyes locked on mine. "His magic is deeply connected to that which holds the realms together. At first, it seemed like his power, his strength, was growing since Max's birth, since she came of age—but now, it's as if he's being drained. I don't understand it," she grunted, brow arched, "and Lucifer has never been the type to be exactly forthcoming. Especially not when he's feeling vulnerable."

"What about Sam?"

She snorted. "Samael's about as easy to decipher as Lucifer—and perhaps even less forthcoming with information." She shook her head, the gentle clang of the beads she wore the only sound in the room. "I've known these men for a lifetime, yes—but more often it feels like I don't know them at all. It's one of the many curses of living in this world—we do not have the luxury of intimacy, of trusting others with our truest selves."

The last part was said more to herself than to me.

Her gaze locked onto mine, and as powerful as her stare was, I couldn't look away. "Be stronger than us in that way, nephew. Do not allow fear or insecurity to claw at you and gain purchase, do not be ashamed of the darkness that digs into you, of the anxiety you feel. Don't bury it down, don't ignore it. Emotions are powerful forces, especially for our kind. The faster you learn to embrace and use them, the better off you will be. Otherwise, they will suffocate you."

As if her words shaped reality, my breath caught, my lungs frozen in time no matter how hard I tried to pull in a gulp of air. Thick, dark water suddenly engulfed us both, until we were suspended in it, limbs frantic as we fought against the waves ripping us apart.

Serae's eyes were wide, laced with panic as she tried to scream for me—but where her deep, soothing voice had been before, there was now just a trail of bubbles and the harsh pounding of water.

I reached for her, fighting to pull her back to me, but the current had other plans. It ripped us apart, until she disappeared into the dark abyss, along with the room we'd been occupying.

My muscles tensed as I clawed into the water, trying to swim to her with a desperation that only made the lack of oxygen more apparent.

A powerful wave pulsed into me, spinning me in its grip until I couldn't tell which direction my aunt had been pulled in.

Instead, I swam and swam, searching for a light, the subtle hint of where the surface might be.

My head grew dizzy as I fought the urge to breathe in, to pull the water into my lungs, a deadly gulp of air.

My vision blurred until I started to see unfamiliar shapes in the water—dark shadows that I couldn't quite make out.

A frustrated sob lodged in my throat as I swam. This was a dream. I wouldn't drown here, I couldn't. Could I?

It felt so real, the life force draining from me. What if incubi could actually be killed in our dreams—it would make sense that the thing that gave us our power could also take it.

Max.

The soft curves of her figure filtered behind my eyelids as I stopped fighting against the water, letting it lap at me, and carry me gently where it willed—surrendering to a power I couldn't beat.

She looked like she was dancing, her limbs lean and limber as she moved.

A gentle smile tugged at my lips. At least she would be the last thing I saw.

But my smile melted the moment I realized she was struggling against the current too, that it had her in its deathly grip, just as it had me.

"No," I yelled, the word darting forward in a small wave of soundless bubbles. No.

I fought against the water, dug my arms into the waves with a relentless fury as I swam to her. At first, it seemed like every inch I crept forward, she was pulled ten feet back.

I didn't give up. My limbs worked through the water with a feverish strength, every muscle I had tearing and straining as I fought to get to her. The distance was closing, slowly but surely—a realization that only renewed the ferocity with which I tried to reach her.

Until she was nearly in my grasp, one more stroke away.

When my fingers should have closed around her, everything went black.

I pulled in a deep breath, coughing up a lung as my body regulated itself.

My fingers dug into the rocky ground beneath me as I sat up. It was dark and cold, but I was dry as I surveyed my surroundings. Trees cradled the rocky cliff as I tried to orient myself.

It was a dream. I knew these woods .

This was where I'd come when I left the cabin earlier. It was quiet, the only sounds those of the animals who called this forest home.

I dug my palm into my chest, breathing in and out, slowly now as I fought the cloying pain there.

Dream-walks always felt real, but I'd never had one take shape like that before, and I hadn't had a dream I couldn't shape or control at all in months. Even Serae had seemed powerless against the current.

Fuck, I hoped she was okay, that she woke up.

And Max?—

My breath caught again at the memory of her drowning. I closed my eyes, searching for that familiar link to her, expecting it to pull me towards the cabin. But something told me she was in the other direction.

Panicking, I ran, abandoning all reason and logic and following only the strange, unexplainable awareness I had of her. I stopped just at the edge of a small cliff, the rocks and twigs cascading into the lake below as I kept myself from following them over.

Fuck.

It was almost impossible to see—we were far from any lights, but when I focused on it, and let my eyes adjust, the lake below almost glistened with an ethereal light—I couldn't make out much but for some reason, couldn't look away. Until?—

"Max?"

There was a figure, just below the surface, hair fanned out like a painting, suspended in the greenish-blue water that was always so impossibly clear that seeing twenty feet down wasn't unheard of.

She'd been sleepwalking out here, but never this far out in the lake, and never far from the main dock, where the water was shallower .

Without hesitation, I dove over the cliff. It was over thirty feet down, but the jump wouldn't kill me.

I crashed into the icy-cold water, black as night as I fought to find her. For a moment, I was convinced I was back in my dream, like one of those nightmares where you wake up from a dream, only to realize you've woken up into another one.

There was no current this time, the lake as still as it always was. I couldn't see, but I closed my eyes and let the bond guide my strokes. After a few minutes, my fingers brushed against something soft, solid.

I opened my eyes and saw her—eyes closed, suspended in the water like a girl in a snowglobe.

My hands closed around her arms and I swam, using the glow of the moon to guide us back to the surface. When we broke it, I cradled her head, trying with frantic movements to see if she was breathing, if she was awake.

Her body was cold as ice, and I prayed like hell it was because we were in a glacier lake and not because?—

I shook the thought away. "Max?"

Her head lolled to the side and I caught it before it sank back below the surface.

Fuck. I needed to get her to the shore.

With hurried, awkward movements, I brought her there, reminding myself over and over again that the daughter of Lucifer certainly couldn't die from something as mundane as drowning.

As soon as it was shallow enough for my feet to touch the lake bed, I stood, cradling her in my arms, and ran the final twenty feet or so to the small beach. The water cascaded around us in loud sloshes as I fought to get us there quickly.

I set her down, gently as I could, and started to assess.

"Please fucking breathe. Please," my voice seemed disturbingly loud in the quiet of the woods, the clear panic lacing it enough to know that I didn't fully believe my theory that she was most certainly alive.

My vision clouded as I started CPR, pumping her chest and pressing air against her cold, soft lips, as I fought like hell to keep the fear back, to stay focused.

With a gasp, she coughed, a small fountain of water dripping down her cheeks. She turned over, eyes wide and panicked as she fought for more oxygen.

I fell back on my ass, relief coursing through my veins as her gaze fell on me.

"Wade?"

An anxious laugh tore from my lips, like my body didn't know what to make of the simultaneous fear and joy fighting for control of it. "You're okay?"

She nodded, brows bent in confusion as she took in our sorry state. Her hands curled around her arms as she shivered. "I'm okay. Guess that dreamwalk was a bit more intense than usual, huh?"

I pulled her close to me, not that I had much heat or warmth to offer her right now, and nodded as I breathed into her neck, letting the feel of her skin, her scent—now coated with the briny water—wash over me. She was okay.

She pulled her face back slightly until her nose was just an inch from mine. Rivulets of water dripped from her eyelashes, her hair, carving delicate streams down her face and neck. Her lips were a few shades deeper than usual from the cold, and the soft moonlight highlighted the sharp angles of her face.

After a night of resisting her nearness, it was no longer possible. I pressed my lips to hers, swallowing her soft hum of surprise, and drank her in.

My body heated from her touch, my dick stiffening as her lips met mine with a need and force that matched my own.

I gripped her close to me, my hands finding the gap between the soaked shirt and boxers she wore—my brother's, probably, he seemed to like her wearing his clothes—and pressed against her skin, both of us desperate for warmth and nearness as we fought for closeness.

She straddled me, deepening the kiss, her tongue hot and demanding, as she started to grind against me.

Would it always be like this? Would I always want her so badly—every molecule on fire at the touch of her, every thought consumed entirely by her? Because if so, we'd never get anything done.

But I was okay with that—more than okay.

A twig snapped somewhere in the distance, and we ignored it.

But then another ruffle followed, another twig snapped, closer this time, and we froze.

A dark figure emerged from between the trees, just a few feet away, its face cast in shadow, like the moon didn't dare shine on it.

Max tensed against me, then held her hand towards the figure, sparks of her fire dancing around her fingers in a heated glove as her eyes narrowed, focused. "Darius?"