Page 57

There were several round tables in the pea-soup-colored room, with metal chairs around them. My parents sat at one table, and a pale woman with long dark hair almost down to her ass and piercing blue eyes sat at another table. They all had handcuffs on, which were attached to bolts in the table.

“Drak,” said the soft, melodic voice of the dark-haired woman who absolutely had to be Quintella Volmark.

He left our little quartet and went over to her. “Aunt Quintella.” Then he bowed before taking a seat.

Omaera paused to watch, which made me halt in my stride.

Drak’s gaze flicked to hers and he gave her only the most subtle of head shakes.

“Maxar,” my mother cooed, her amber eyes—the same shade as mine—not lighting up at all. She sold her soul to the darkness, after all. There would never be a glitter, sparkle, or twinkle in her gaze ever again.

“Mother,” I said stiffly, still standing, still holding Omaera’s hand.

Zandren remained by the door, his arms crossed over his chest like somenightclub bouncer.

“Maxar,” my father said, giving me a curt nod. “It’s been … a while.” While he couldn’tactuallysell his soul to the darkness because there was no magic within these walls, it seemed that my father’s long-term incarceration had done nothing but fuel his decision to side with my mother and embrace the dark. There was no sparkle in his chocolate-brown eyes either.

Their gazes shifted over to Omaera and curiosity stole across their features.

“You’ve mated,” my mother said. No delight creased the corners of her eyes. No smile curled the sides of her mouth.

“I have. This is Omaera, my mate.”

“She’s not a mage,” my father said through gritted teeth, his eyes roaming Omaera from head to toe.

Omaera’s hand gripped mine tighter, her smile brittle as she addressed my parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Rane, it’s very nice to meet you.”

My mother sneered. My father looked like he’d just bitten into a raw piece of magsith meat.

“We can’t choose our Fated Mates, Dad,” I said. “You know that just as well as I do.” I looked at my mate and smiled down at her perfect face. “I happen to think the Fates got it right. We’re extremely happy.”

“You can’t be in Hell for a honeymoon,” my mother said, her tone laden with contempt. “Whyareyou here, Maxar?”

“Omaera has family here. We came to visit them.”

“Who’s the muscle at the door? He has shifter written all over him, even if I can’t smell him.” My father met Zandren’s eyes, and I thought for sure the bear would bare his teeth and growl, but he didn’t. He didn’t so much as flinch.

“He’s mates with that vampire over there,” I said dismissively. “They came together.”

Even though he wasn’t able to shift, there was no doubt about it, Zandren and his impeccable bear hearing heard what I said. The noises of discontent the bear was now making in his corner by the door was exactly the comic relief I needed in such a tense moment.

As much as I knew Omaera was trying to be there for me, I knew her thoughtswere also with Drak, who took a seat at the table and spoke softly with his aunt.

“What are you doing with your existence, my son?” my mother asked. “I pray your grandmother is not still alive.”

“She is alive, Mother. Alive and well.”

My mother’s brow merely twitched.

“I would ask if your lengthy incarceration in this …” I glanced around, “wondrousplace has given you time to reflect on your choices, but I’m going to guess that’s a no.”

“It’s given us plenty of time,” she said cooly. “It’s done nothing but reaffirm our decision in the first place. Humans are a scourge, and entirely unnecessary. They are weak and hapless. I am to assume that in the centuries we’ve been here, they still walk the earth like unevolved troglodytes?”

“I’m half human,” Omaera said, her voice stiff, yet clear. Her shoulders were back and her head held high. “My father was a demon. My mother was a human.”

“Impossible,” my mother hissed, her face darkening, pupils dilating. “You’re lying.” She flipped her focus to me. “Your mate is a liar!” Her hands slammed into the metal top of the table and her cheeks flared pink. I had my mother’s coloring as well as her eyes. Tanned skin, dark-red hair. And even though my mother was nearly seven hundred years old, she didn’t look a day over forty.

Omaera lifted one brow, leveling her green gaze at my mom. “Why would I lie?” Then she tapped her chin. “Oh right … because those who deceive, cheat, and hurt immediately believe that’s what everyone else is out to do.” She gripped my arm in her other hand and lifted up onto her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to my tight jaw. “I happen to love your son. With the demon half of me,andthe human half of me. His grandmother did a fine job raising him.”