Fated (8 page)

He pulled away from her mouth and touched his forehead to hers, his eyes tightly closed, conflict etched across the planes of his handsome face. But when she lifted her chin and touched his lips with her own, he began the invasion anew, moaning as her breasts pressed to his chest, as she rolled her hips so he could feel the curves of her body. Suddenly her clothes felt thick and heavy, an unwanted barrier between them. She wanted more of him, more of his taste, his heat, his hard grip and commanding kiss. If she had to die, this would be an exceedingly pleasant way to go.

One of his hands curled around the back of her neck while the other cupped her backside, and Aislin felt his thick erection against her abdomen. She made a choked sound as his tongue trailed down her neck, as the sharp edges of his canines scraped against her sensitive flesh.

Harder.
The word was about to roll off her tongue when he pushed her away, his chest heaving and his eyes glowing crimson.

“This is a mistake,” he muttered, turning away from her and running his hands through his hair.

Aislin shivered. This gray stone room, its high windows black with a starless night, or maybe deep within the Veil, was unheated and cold, something she hadn’t noticed with his body so close to hers. She stared at his back, at his strong fingers laced behind his head, waiting for him to say more. But he remained silent, staring at the unlit fireplace. “Jason—”

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m something I am not.” He cursed. “This is a ridiculous game we’re playing, Aislin. It’s a distraction neither of us can afford.”

I may have only hours to live,
she almost said, but then realized how pathetic that sounded. Did she really want him to kiss her because he pitied her? He thought she was a distraction, for God’s sake. Humiliation crystallized inside her, hard and brilliant as a diamond. Of course he had a different perspective. He was thousands of years old and had seen so much. Compared to him, she was a fleeting presence in this world, especially now.

She drew herself up and took a step back. “Agreed,” she said evenly, adopting the tone she used to speak to employees who disappointed her. “And perhaps, considering everything that’s happening in Boston, you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

Really, she should be thanking him. Less than an hour ago, she’d been scolding Hugh for trysting while everything was falling apart, and now she had done the same thing. It had been a moment of weakness she shouldn’t have indulged.

Moros looked over his shoulder at her, and for a moment she could have sworn she saw a glint of pain in his eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “It was impulsive, but fortunately, easily rectified.”

His hand shot out and closed around her wrist, and Aislin fought to stay upright as he yanked her into the Veil, through space, across the world. She had no idea how far they traveled, only that a moment later they appeared in her office. He let go of her immediately and stepped back. His dark, slashing brows were low, his mouth hard. Was he angry at her? Their attraction had been mutual—hadn’t it been?

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now what?”

“Now I deal with the Shade-Kere, and you deal with your board. Then we meet with the Keepers and ask for their aid in dealing with the threat. Even if they refuse, we may be able to buy enough time to find Eris and the others before they can reach their goal.”

A quiet laugh escaped from her, despite the ache inside. “This time, you’re the one making it sound simple.”

“At the moment, simple is the best I can do.” He paused, his arms hanging loose at his sides, elegant and dangerous. “Aislin, I regret blurring the boundaries of our business relationship. You have my apologies.”

“I apologize as well. I suppose the stress got to me momentarily, as you so helpfully pointed out.”

He looked away. “I will update you when we’ve dealt with the threat to the city.”

By then, I might not be Charon anymore.
He might be giving his updates to Hugh. She might be mortal. She might be
dead
. Suddenly, she wanted to be in his arms again, to ask him to carry some of this burden of fear and worry. But he clearly had no interest in doing any such thing, and he had more than enough to deal with already. “Very well. Good luck.”

“Luck is for mortals,” he said, vanishing.

She turned away, furious at the sting of tears in her eyes. He was right—what a ridiculous distraction. She couldn’t waste whatever time she had left fantasizing about Jason Moros, his devastating kisses, and his fiery hands as they slid across her skin. She had to try to bring some of the board members back to her side. She needed to call Cavan and ask him to be ready to bring the voice and favor of the Lucinae to the table. She had to be at her best, even though fatigue was making her head swim. She hadn’t slept in nearly two days.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she whispered, then jumped at the sound of sharp laughter.

It hadn’t come from her.

She looked over at her desk to find Rylan sitting there, feet up. “Your guards are still busy downstairs, lucky for them.” He gave her a bland smile. “You look so tired, Aislin. Rough day?”

Hatred boiled up, hot enough to pour strength into her muscles and keep her upright. “Father would be so ashamed of you. I know I am.”

“But he always respected people who got things done. How do you think he’d feel about what you’ve accomplished today? Humans meant to live long lives are being slaughtered in the streets, and you’re about to be voted out, a disgrace. I think he would be ashamed of
you
.”

She looked away before she could stop herself, and Rylan laughed. “You always cared so much about what he thought of you.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” She tensed as she heard his shoes moving along the floor toward her. She’d never been afraid of Rylan . . . until now.

“It’s a weakness to care what anyone thinks of you,” he said. “And it’s always been one of yours. It’s held you back in so many ways. It’s the reason why I always beat you.”

That brought her eyes back to his. “Did you?” she snapped. “Are you sure?”

He grimaced and took a step closer. “Any victory you might have claimed was pathetically temporary. And look at us now. Who would you say has the upper hand?”

Her fingers rose to her Scope. “Morally or physically?”

“Morally?” Rylan chuckled. “Oh, Aislin.” His eyes flashed red before he disappeared—and reappeared right in front of her.

She forced herself not to take a step back. “Get out of my office.”

He grinned. “As you wish.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her into the Veil, buffeting her with frigid air and burning wind before throwing her down roughly.

Aislin landed on her hands and knees on rocky ground, cutting her palms on sharp stones. Wincing, she raised her head to find herself in a massive cavern lit with hundreds of torches. Rylan stood smirking a few feet away, next to a dark-haired young woman wearing a dress more appropriate for a rooftop party than spelunking. Lounging on the rocks around them were two other people, one a stocky, bald young man in a T-shirt and jeans, and the other . . .

The blonde from Hugh’s office waved at her. “Told you I wasn’t a toy,” she said silkily.

The dark-haired woman next to Rylan clucked her tongue. “Nemesis, this woman is a guest. Be polite.” She took a step forward and bent low so she could speak right in Aislin’s face. “Hi there,” she said softly. “I’m so glad you took the time out of your busy schedule to come visit us.”

Aislin sat back on her knees. “You must be Eris.” She was out of breath from pain and fear but unwilling to cower. “Your brother is looking for you.”

Eris grinned, revealing her shiny white teeth. “Aw, does he miss me? I’ve certainly missed him. That’s why I’m going to send him a present.” She moved a little closer. “Rylan tells me Moros is quite fond of you,” she crooned. “So what better way to hurt him?” She gestured to Rylan, who strode over and squatted in front of her.

“Good luck, Aislin,” he told her as Eris ran her fingers through his hair, petting him like a dog. “Oh, and you won’t be needing this.”

His hand rose so quickly that Aislin couldn’t stop him from tearing her Scope from the chain at her throat. She cried out in pain and lunged as he stood up with the Scope of the Charon in his hand.

“Is that what this was about?” Aislin asked, her voice rising. “All of this destruction just so you could be Charon again?”

Rylan chuckled and slid his arm around Eris’s waist. “I don’t give a fuck about being Charon anymore, Aislin.”

Eris got on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Get going.”

Rylan grinned down at her, then disappeared. Eris returned her attention to Aislin. “Shall we get better acquainted?” Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply. “Because I can smell my brother all over you, and I’ve got to say, that makes me curious.”

“Moros won’t rest until he stops you, no matter what you do to me.”
He knows I’m already doomed.

Eris rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt his
feelings
, darling. I want to see him on his knees, with a sword rammed through his gut.” Her lips curved in a fond, cheerful smile, and she gestured toward the stocky young man, who brandished a sword, its blade thin and razor-sharp, emanating a warm yellow glow. “
That
sword, to be precise. And you’re going to make that happen.”

“I’ll never help you hurt him,” Aislin said in a hollow voice, struck with horror at the image of Moros on his knees, vulnerable and defeated.

Nemesis appeared at her sister’s side, twisting a blonde lock of hair around one of her fingers. “Oh, honey, trust me. When we’re done with you, you’ll want to kill him more than we do, and that’s
really
saying something.”

With that, Eris and Nemesis reached out, each taking one of Aislin’s hands. The moment their skin touched hers, her mind exploded with hate.

CHAPTER NINE

M
oros stood in the Veil, on the roof of a tenement at the edge of what had once been Boston Common, now a lawless swamp. Aching with throbbing, unsated need, and a violent anger, he looked toward the gray half-circle of sun rising in the east, peeking between the massive skyscrapers of downtown. He shuddered as he considered the magnitude of the mistake he’d just made.

Aislin’s taste was still in his mouth. Her scent was on his hands, his clothes—a delicate violet that made his heart race. Her face was in his mind—her creamy skin flushed with desire, her full lips swollen from the force of his kiss, her gaze sliding over him like a curious caress. It was all he could do to stop himself from going straight back to her.

No one had ever affected him like this. No woman had ever embedded herself in his thoughts as she had. The impending betrayal by Hugh, the specter of her life ending . . . fury tore through him, lengthening his claws and turning his world crimson. How had she become this important?

You’ve been intrigued by her for years,
his thoughts whispered.

But this was different. More dangerous. Now his head was full of relentless fantasy, of the need to feel her beneath him, panting and willing. He raked his hands through his hair. “Stop,” he said and focused on his Kere.

He took a deep breath and let it out, and then began to call each of his subjects to mind, one by one, soul by soul. He kept his eyes closed as he heard them materializing around him, concentrating on the next and the next and the next. The first he summoned were his most experienced, and they remained silent as their brethren appeared around them. He could feel their heat, their power, and he smiled.

When he was certain he had enough, he called one more—and opened his eyes as Eli Margolis appeared right in front of him, fangs bared. “Can’t this wait?” he snarled.

Moros arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure Cacia can do without you for a few minutes.”

Eli’s angular face contorted with frustration. “Not when she’s fighting a horde of Shade-Kere trying to kill everyone in the North End!”

“That’s why I’ve gathered you here.” Moros raised his arms, turning to the group of Kere he had called to him, summoned from every corner of the world. Some of them were hundreds of years old. He felt a pang of sadness as he realized Trevor would be standing here, too, if his soul hadn’t been stolen by enemies. But he couldn’t focus on his losses—he still had his most loyal Kere with him, and he needed them now more than ever. “We are going to war, my friends,” he told them. “And make no mistake, to lose is to face extermination.”

Hai, his black hair pulled back, his wiry body taut with readiness, scowled. He was one of the ancient ones, his loyalty stretching all the way back to the rebellion two thousand years ago. “Is that a threat?”

“Not from me,” Moros told him. “Some of my sisters and my brother are determined to awaken an ancient enemy who could destroy us all. They have created an army of their own by stealing the souls of Shades here in the Veil and turning the creatures loose in the real world to wreak havoc. As Eli said, they’re Marking and killing innocents who were never meant to die, and it is fraying the fabric of fate at an alarming rate.”

Eli turned to look at the others, who were crowded on the roof, crouching on the solar panels, perched on the half walls that bounded the space. “They disappear as soon as they’re really challenged. It’s made it impossible to keep up with them. They’re as strong as we are and hard to take down. The Ferrys have gotten a few through portals to Hell, but they’re suffering because of it.” Eli’s fingers were curled into fists. It was clear he was desperate to get back.

“You will crush them,” Moros said. “Before this day is over, I want all of them dead.”

“How many of them are there?” asked Parinda, another ancient comrade, her upturned cat-eyes focused on Eli.

“No idea,” said Eli. “But it seems like there are more every time we catch up with them.” He turned back to Moros and gestured at the others. “Maybe more than this number can deal with.”

Moros grinned. “No matter. Each of you catch one.” He ran his tongue along his fangs, ready to let the animal inside him loose, eager to slake his thirst for violence. “And bring them to me.” He spread his fingers. “I’ll do the rest.”

His eyes met Eli’s. “Take us to them.”

Eli gave him a curt nod and disappeared. The rest of the Kere looked to Moros, awaiting a signal. “Can you feel him?” he asked them. They nodded. “Then let’s go. Do not disappoint me.”

He focused on the trace of Eli, the subtle essence of the man. He imagined his fingers hooking around that thread and letting it pull him forward through the Veil.

He emerged into absolute mayhem: burning vehicles floating in the canal, shattered glass everywhere, and bodies lying on the sidewalk, a few of them injured Ferrys. The air was filled with the scent of decaying flesh. Skeletal monsters in rotting clothes, skin sagging from their bony fingers, stalked the living. Screams and shouts echoed in the air, and down the block, Eli was calling Cacia’s name, searching for his mate in the chaos. As his Kere appeared around him, Moros saw one of the Shades drag a woman through the shattered window of an amphibious bus even as another creature landed on the vehicle’s hood. Inside, the terrified driver cowered.

“Bring them to me!” Moros roared.

The Kere charged. Moros willed himself through space and reappeared on the roof of the bus. The Shade-Ker dropped the lifeless woman it had just strangled into the canal and climbed onto the roof, its oozing eyes on Moros. “Where is your master?” he asked the thing.

It snarled and charged, senseless and brainless and driven by a thirst for death. But Moros
was
death. He caught the Shade around the throat, and it exploded in a flurry of greasy dust. Moros vanished and reentered the real world down the block, where Eli was still searching for Cacia. Moros could sense her nearby as well but couldn’t see her. He willed himself into the Veil, and Eli appeared next to him, cursing as they both saw Cacia struggling with two Shade-Kere who had her by the arms. Her left leg was bent at a terribly wrong angle, and her lovely face was scratched and bleeding, but she was fighting fiercely to keep the Shades from stealing her Scope.

With a growl, Eli leaped forward, tearing the head off one of the Shades with curt brutality. He glanced over his shoulder and tossed the head at Moros, who caught it and rendered it to ash with a mere thought. Cacia fell to the ground as they dispatched the other one the same way. Her wheezing gasps told Moros she was hurt far more severely than her obvious injuries. Eli bowed over her, murmuring in her ear, his rage and violence tamed by the petite bleeding woman gathered in his arms.

The Lord of the Kere pushed down the longing he felt at the sight of their intimacy. “There are more to be found.”

Eli looked up at Moros, his eyes pleading. “Let me get her out of here. Please. You can’t ask me to leave her like this.”

“Eli, I’ll be fine,” Cacia said weakly, her breath halting. Her fingers rose to touch his face.

The memory of Aislin’s fingertips against his cheek nearly knocked Moros to the ground. “Take her,” he snapped, needing both of them out of his sight. “I’ll summon you back if I need to.”

As Eli vanished, taking Cacia with him, Hai appeared before Moros, holding a struggling Shade-Ker by the neck—and the thing’s head in his other hand. “It keeps trying to disappear,” Hai said with a huff.

But it couldn’t; Hai was a stronger being. “Another,” Moros roared as he dispatched the Shade-Ker. As soon as Hai was off again, Moros willed himself back into battle, losing himself in the joy of killing. It had been so long since he’d struck with abandon, stealing life and existence with a mere stroke of his fingers, sucking the will from a living being’s limbs, the fight from its very cells. Because the Shade-Kere were soulless, nothing remained once they were destroyed. The Ferrys could send them to Hell, which would accept them for the abominations they were, but Moros couldn’t help but delight in removing them from existence entirely.

It was satisfying, like scratching an itch. He could have spent his entire day in the dusty haze. His Kere brought him victim after victim, monster after monster, but Moros didn’t wait for them to find him. He stalked through the North End, hunting the creatures himself, following them as they tried to disappear into the Veil.

He had just terminated a particularly muscular Shade-Ker when Eli appeared once more—his fingers wrapped around the wrist of Declan Ferry. Aislin’s brother had eyes the same icy shade as hers, and it brought her immediately and painfully to mind. “What is it?” Moros asked, brushing a few bits of ash from his sleeve. “Another attack?”

Declan shook his head. “I just went to check in with Aislin.”

Moros tensed. “And?”

“She’s not in her office, and she’s not answering her phone. I called Eli to help me find her.”

Eli let go of Declan’s wrist. “Moros, I can’t sense her at all.”

Everything inside Moros went still. He’d been so desperate to push Aislin out of his thoughts that he hadn’t dared turn his consciousness toward her, but now he did with all the concentration he had.

He felt nothing. And then he felt too many things to name—horror and fear and need and worry, all jagged edges rubbing up against each other inside his chest, shearing away anything else. Aislin was
gone
.

His heart thrumming, he grabbed Declan’s shoulder and dragged him through the Veil, straight to Aislin’s office. His first breath brought her scent back to him, awakening the ache. He stalked to her desk and turned, taking in the room. One of her shoes lay on its side near the desk. He had left her here a few hours ago, too jumbled and lost in his desire to be near her for another moment, and now . . . “Where are her guards?”

“They were involved in the first Shade-Kere attack, and when they came back to reconnect with her, she wasn’t here.” Declan looked around, his black hair standing on end, lines of worry bracketing his mouth. “When they weren’t able to find her or reach her, they called me. You can’t trace her, figure out where she went?”

“Where she was taken, you mean.” Moros pointed at the lost shoe. “No, but I know who has her.” Rylan could have transported her anywhere, though. Moros’s hand rose to rub his breastbone as he pictured a hand punching through Aislin’s chest, tearing out her brilliant, shining soul.

Eli appeared in the office with Cacia leaning against him. Her face was still healing, red gashes fading across her cheek, and she was keeping the weight off her left leg, but she still managed to look defiant. Eli, on the other hand, looked irritated as he steadied her. “You should be horizontal,” he said to her.

“Was it Rylan?” Cacia asked, her turquoise eyes on Moros. “Did he come back?”

When Declan’s eyebrows shot up, Moros explained. “Your brother came to threaten her earlier. He wants her on his side, aligned with my siblings against me.”

Declan frowned. “Do you think she might have agreed to that?”

Moros paused, caught by the suspicion on Declan’s face. “Do you have so little faith in your sister?”

Declan looked away. “She nearly stripped me of my status a few days ago for defying her.”

“She relented when she knew you were in mortal peril.”

“But Aislin’s got her own way of doing things, and she likes to win.” The implication hung in the air between them: Declan thought Moros might lose.

Moros chuckled. “You really think her desires are so simple, that she would choose to win for the sake of winning, even if the world around her crumbled?” Didn’t they see what he saw? Aislin was stronger than that. Smarter, as well. Certainly, she was fallible and frustrated at times, but she always seemed to find her way.

Declan stood up straight, his muscular arms at his sides. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. My sister’s just . . .” He sighed impatiently and ran his hands through his hair. “If she thought it would protect our family, I think she’d do just about anything. Even at the expense of everyone else.”

“Wait,” said Cacia, her breath whistling. Eli had been correct when he said she shouldn’t be here. Any ordinary human would have died from the injuries she’d sustained. Her eyes burned as she stared at Moros. “Did you touch her?”

“What?”
Declan snapped. “Why would he do that?” His eyes narrowed as he glared at Moros.

“She told me she was going to ask you to touch her,” Cacia said quietly, looking haunted. Moros felt a flash of guilt at how he’d callously sifted through Cacia’s intended future, taking advantage of her desperation to save the man she loved. “She wanted you to trust her. She needed you to know she wouldn’t betray you.”

Moros leaned back against Aislin’s desk, considering that. She was so brave, full of steely courage with a ruthless edge. She’d been willing to sacrifice herself to forward her cause and protect her family. She would make a powerful enemy. But when he’d held her in his arms, her surrender had been anything but calculated. It had been soft and needy in a way that had made him want to crush her against the wall and claim her completely.

Declan poked him in the shoulder, pulling him from the fantasy. “Well? Did you touch my sister?” He looked as if he wanted to hammer one of his fists through Moros’s skull.

Moros sighed. “It is no business of yours.”

Declan was in his face in an instant, his hands fisted in Moros’s shirt. “The hell it is. From everything I’ve heard, your touch is virtual torture, and if you did that to Aislin—”

Moros put his hands up, though he easily could have shoved Declan away. “She asked me to, as Cacia said,” he replied. “I acquiesced.”

“And?” Cacia asked, her voice a bit stronger this time.

His eyes met hers. “And I saw nothing.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Declan snapped.

It felt like someone had carved his chest hollow. “It means Aislin has no future.”

“Wait,” said Cacia, frowning. “You told me my future disappeared after Eli was killed, and that was because my fate was still wrapped up with his, but he had become a Ker, right? You can’t see the futures of your Kere. What if that’s what’s happening here?”