Desires of the Otherworld 2: Darkest Hunger (2 page)

“No.” Bridon smoothed a pale strand of white blonde hair away from his beloved’s brow. “Aislynn’s dying wish was that we lay down our arms. We are not at war with the Lycae her people have aligned with, nor with her family. We will leave them in peace.”

The oracle spoke up, breaking into the conversation. “A war has started whether you approve or not, and you best heed me, for what I say is important. When your Fated returns, you must make her see that the side she fights for will betray her. If you do not, you will lose her forever.”

“You continue to speak in riddles!” Bridon thundered, suffocating in grief. He collected himself before he spoke again, his voice now level. “There will be no war. I will not attack her family, even after she is reborn.”

The old woman’s dark onyx eyes met his, and she shook her head. “Poor besotted vampire,” she said. “Just how little you know.”

Chapter One

The Otherworld

Cyclops Province, Border City

Matilda’s Juke Joint

Samhain—Present Day

“I’m going, Nox.” Willow Miloradovic studied the intimidating but devastatingly gorgeous Draigen before her, unfazed and undaunted by his intense gaze. “Do we have your blessing? Or do we have to go against the will of the Fates this Samhain?” She snatched the glass from the bar and downed the firewater it contained. After she’d slammed it back, she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

He didn’t answer immediately, narrowing his canary yellow eyes. To most, Nox Locke was the walking personification of terrifying things you didn’t want to cross in a dark alley at night. But to her, he was just another lost soul.

Nox was one of seven Draigen brothers in league with the Erinyes—warrior goddesses guided by the Fates—who had the ability to shift to the most powerful of all creatures, the magikally impervious dragon. If they couldn’t rip something apart with their bare hands, Draigen morphed into winged serpents to get the job done. And everything they did had the Goddess Grade-A stamp of approval.

Draigen patrolled the realms during Samhain, protecting the innocent. The gods were determined to find the good in man—even if they had to create the mortal world over and over again following what mortals viewed as the apocalypse. They made the realm in the Otherworld’s image, passing along information. Everything mortals knew—from technology to holidays—came from immortal creatures.

She didn’t know the Locke brothers well, having conversed with them only during her travels to Matilda’s Juke Joint. The business fronted as a bar, but the back rooms were used for more than private poker games and hustling. A multitude of not-so-nice treaties, spells, and arrangements were brokered behind closed doors.

She’d asked Nox to meet with her as a favor before the sun set in the mortal realm and the portals opened between the dimensions. Interdimensional travel between the Otherworld and the place mortals referred to as earth was only possible once per tide, and this one in particular was of paramount importance.

Bernie, the cyclops bartender, stopped across from them. Nox nodded, waving his hand to indicate he’d take another round, and said, “You’re in the clear. We have better harpies to declaw this Samhain. As a rule the Erinyes don’t get involved in personal squabbles.” He sat straight and peered over his bulky leather coat. “But I’m going to give you a slice of advice. Let your people take care of this shit. You don’t want to cross tonight. Trust me.”

That’s all I needed to hear, big boy.

“Ain’t happening.” She shook her head, running her palm along the top of her smoothed hair all the way back to the ponytail. “Nothing you can say is going to change my mind.”

His yellow eyes flared and glowed brightly, revealing fine lines inside the irises that resembled dried fragments of desert sand—the dragon beneath his cool facade rising to the surface.

“What if I told you Bridon Walkyr is crossing? I have it on good authority that he hopes to fell two birds with one stone this Samhain. If he retrieves the child before you do, he’s halfway to his goal.”

Bridon Walkyr
. She remained expressionless, masking the shiver that ran down her spine and caused her gut to clench. She had been taught to fear the name before she had the ability to shift. The vampire king believed her to be the reincarnation of his Chosen—the human daughter of Markus McKendry who had died five centuries before. Willow’s father, the Lycae King of Norvallen, swore he would never allow their paths to cross. He kept Willow tucked securely inside the walls of their keep, sheltered and always aware of the consequences of stepping away from the sanctity of her home.

That all changed when her brother Micah—heir of the Norvallen throne—met and fell in love with his Chosen, Savannah, a vampire princess and Bridon Walkyr’s sister.

She knew little of the circumstances surrounding their deaths, aside from the stories of the rogue blood drinkers responsible for locating the star-crossed duo in the mortal realm to end what they deemed an unholy union. All that remained of the doomed relationship was a child, their son—
a hybrid
. The one being her father insisted had the power to bring peace to the races.

The heir and future king to the Lycae throne.

Bernie returned with her drink, the large dark eye in the center of his forehead flickering spastically. She produced a thin-lipped smile, accepted the newly filled glass, and rotated it between her hands. “We’re counting on that actually. It’s why I’ve been chosen to lead the group crossing tonight. I’m the one person the filthy bloodsucker won’t harm.”

“That’s true enough,” Nox conceded. “But don’t think he won’t force you to return with him if he snares you.”

She glowered at the Draigen next to her, insulted by his lack of confidence. “I’m not a rabbit running blind into a trap. We have a damned good idea of what the bastard is planning, and we’ve strategized accordingly. He’s not the only one with access to oracles.”

“And if something goes wrong?”

“I’ll play the happily stoked nympho in distress. When he drops his guard, I’ll kill him.”

Nox lowered his face but she caught his snide grin just the same. “Could you? Kill him, I mean.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Of course I’ll kill him. He’s a blood drinker and the enemy.”

Nox studied her with a peculiar expression she couldn’t read. “Even if he’s your Fated?”

“
Especially
if he’s my Fated,” she grumbled and quickly downed her drink. Plopping the glass onto the counter, she cleared her throat. “I won’t make the same mistake my brother did. Your people come before you. My father taught me that. Blood is always thicker than water. Your heart won’t be there to catch you if you fall, but your family will.”

Nox chuckled. As he leaned forward, a strand of honey blond fell over his eye. “It doesn’t work like that, furball. I have two Fated brothers, and I’ve seen how it changes you. They can’t take a shit unless they know their Chosens are nestled safe and sound in the next room.”

She snickered and shook her head. “That sounds really…
romantic
.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” He lifted his glass and drank an ample swig, throat constricting as he swallowed. Then he said, “One of my brothers is tight with the vampire king. I asked him about this before I traveled here. There are things you don’t know, Willow. Things I can’t tell you. But I will say this. Bridon truly believes you are the reincarnation of Aislynn McKendry—”

“He can believe whatever he wants.” She cut his words short, vocal cords rippling in anger, distorting her voice. “I’ve seen the painting that hovers over the fireplace of Norvallen Hall like a goddamned shrine. A monument to a foolish girl who made bad decisions and got an arrow through the heart as a souvenir. It’s a constant reminder of what’s at stake if I fuck up. But it’s all right, because I’m not her. I am
not
Aislynn McKendry.”

Nox cackled, exhibiting his renowned tendency to be an asshole. “It’s funny you should mention that. I hear you bear one hell of a resemblance.”

“Not really.” She disregarded the remark, knowing that without the magikal shade that distorted her true physical form, he would be right. “She was blonde. I’m a brunette. She was short, I’m tall.”

“She was human, and you sprout fur.” He grinned, flashing a knowing smile.

Clever Draigen.
Fair enough.

She laughed without humor. “Among other things.”

“But it’s all about the face, isn’t it? And the eyes? They say the eyes are the window to the soul.”

“Fuck you, Nox,” she growled. Slamming her glass down, she rose from the stool, pulled a bill from the inner pocket, and tossed it onto the bar.

“Anytime,
aor jacueraa
,” he purred in Draigen tongue, bringing his glass to his smirking lips. “Happy hunting.”

She intentionally collided with his shoulder as she moved past, causing his drink to slosh across his hand and onto the wooden counter. She was eager to cross the dimensions and return home. Five of the most deadly Lycae warriors from her pack were waiting just outside, and they would tear anything and everything apart in their path.

Including a vampire king.

Chapter Two

“They have crossed. I sense them coming from the north.”

Bridon turned to the last nygromancer daemon in the realms and the most powerful of all daemon kind, Lucian Kross. His services hadn’t come cheap, but hearing those words made the pact seem more than fair. Now it was time to pay the piper, call the tune, and claim his due.

“You are certain she is with them?”

Lucian nodded. “I am.”

He turned to Ian. “Have everyone at the ready. No one is to do anything until I give the order. Warn them there will be hell to pay if she is harmed.”

Ian hiked his chin in acknowledgment and walked past the trees to the cabin nestled in the center where his men waited. A dozen of his most trusted brethren accompanied him to bring their future queen home, but the daemon before him was the proverbial ace in the hole.

Bridon slid his thin sleeve back, baring his wrist, and held it aloft. “Remember our agreement, Lucian.”

The daemon’s obsidian eyes flared silver in insult. “My oath is as binding as yours, King Walkyr.”

Bridon didn’t flinch when Lucian’s teeth cleanly scored his skin. Giving blood freely meant his unique abilities would be gifted to the nygromancer. It also meant the daemon would be able to track him at any point across the realms. His kindred thought him mad for allowing such a thing, demanding they go to war and retrieve his Fated from Norvallen Hall by force. However, the daemon had vowed he would never use Bridon’s freely given blood as a means to harm him or any of his, seeming desperate to collect the ability Bridon was endowed with.

Lucian lifted his dark head from Bridon’s wrist, and Bridon slid his sleeve down, surveying the trees in the distance. He’d never cast his gaze on the reincarnation of his Fated. She had been constantly shaded from the moment of her birth six decades before. Kept in a shroud of haziness no oracle or charm could permeate. But he had heard the rumors, the hushed whispers.

It was appalling enough that she was Lycae.

“Wait until they enter the circle
before
you remove your talisman,” Lucian instructed, stressing the importance of his words. “When the illusion vanishes, it won’t take long before they discover the entrapment. If any of them try to break the circle before I’ve invoked the spell, this will get messy.” The daemon studied him for a moment, and then his upper lip shifted slightly in a semblance of a smile. “This is what you’ve been waiting five hundred tides for. Go inside and take your place. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I would ask you something, daemon.” Bridon waited for Lucian’s consenting nod and asked, “Why would you get involved with this? My abilities are menial compared to the hundreds you’ve accessed over the tides. Altering perception can be done easily with a spell or an enchantment. My ability to enter dreams is voyeuristic at best.”

“That’s where you are wrong.” Lucian shook his head and exhaled into the night. “In dreams, people reveal themselves. It’s there you’ll find what they most want to hide.”

“Why would you want to see what someone has hidden in a dream?” Bridon asked, struggling to understand. “With your powers, you can obtain the answers easy enough.”

“There are situations when coercion will reward you far better than force.”

Until someone forces your hand, Bridon thought grimly. “Once, I might have agreed with you.”

“You do. In this case especially.”

“How so?”

Lucian started off in the direction of the cabin and answered over his shoulder. “Enlisting my talents to deliver Willow Miloradovic safely into your keeping attests to your awareness of the advantages of coercion versus violence.”

* * *

“That’s it.” Willow pointed at the cabin tucked in the base of the mountain, surrounded on all sides by dense trees. She spun around, facing the five strongest females from her clan, and pulled the charmed necklace from inside her jacket. If the vampires somehow managed to uncover the spell that bound them as one and shielded their intentions, it was her last hope if she wanted to remain hidden.

As she secured the chain around her neck, she said, “Stick to the orders we’ve been given. No matter what happens. Got it?”

They all nodded, and she padded silently down through the trees, keeping the cabin downwind. She tried to push aside the tension creeping up her neck, brought on by the knowledge that none of the females in the group cared an iota for her—save one. She didn’t take their distrust personally. The legends all foretold of a future in which she would betray her own people. She could convince herself that the future wasn’t set in stone, but if she were them, she wouldn’t trust her either.

She breathed in deeply, scenting the air. Pine, grass, dirt, water, squirrel, possum, the carcass of some misfortunate creature…then an odd sweetness, light and slightly earthy, with a tang of something bitter—sulfur, perhaps? The strong odor burned her nose, and she snorted a lungful of air, clearing the passageway. She studied the dark cabin in the distance, noting the dim lighting from the shuttered windows.