Page 62 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

62

GIDEON

M y eyelids felt as if they had been sewn shut as I forced them open. The room was encompassed in soothing, smooth darkness except for the bleak twinkle of the candlelight on the corner table across from the four-post bed I was on.

But while my eyes struggled, there was a certain easiness to my body. My shattered bones felt in place, limbs magically healed.

“Well, well, well . . . ” Finnleah’s voice drawled out from the shadowed corner, jolting me wide awake. “Kind of you to finally wake up.” She smirked, her brow quirked up as she assessed me.

“What can I say? I couldn’t resist given the company.” I tried winking at her as I grinned, but my eyes felt so sluggish it was more of an ill-executed twitch.

Finnleah tilted her head to the side, carefully watching me. Her elbows rested on an ornate wicker chair; hands clasped on her stomach; dressed in black, laced up boots her feet crossed on the footrest by her chair. Her hair, as always, was poorly braided and tousled. She was dressed in a white shirt with a leather corset accentuating her perfect physique. I knew I was barely alive, but I found myself pathetically jealous of the fucking leathers she was wearing, wishing it were me wrapped around her figure.

“So . . . ” she started, her sharp gaze focused on me, the deep emerald hue in her eyes reflecting the low twinkling light of the candle.

“So?” I asked, unable to look away from her even as my neck cramped. “Am I still dreaming?” I asked, as she glared at me.

“Oh, you’ll soon wish you were dreaming. But this is very much real, Lord of Death ,” she snarkily shot back, and though I knew she intended a certain level of ire in her words, her sharp tone only made my heart beat faster.

“Too late to confess now?” I leered as I bit my bottom lip, wishing to feel her lips against mine.

“Confession won’t save you now, asshole,” she snapped, glowering at me.

“Where are we?” I looked around the room. The poor worn-out furniture, the mismatched sheets and a fresh coat of paint on the door trim told me we were in someone’s house.

“We are in Elkhawk.”

“Did you extort someone’s house?” I chuckled, turning back to her.

“They volunteered,” she responded.

Little liar . I shook my head, clicking my tongue, charmed by her begrudging attitude.

“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you.” She folded her arms tight. “I’m still considering ditching your sorry ass in the field to be picked at by a bunch of crows.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, my love.” My eyes darkened as I let desire flash across my face. She masterfully ignored my look, returning to her cold, vicious stare.

The little fool didn’t know it only turned me on more.

“So I have learned, Lord of Death ,” she uttered, her lips turning into a thin line.

“In spirit of full transparency, it’s Lord of Death, God of Triumph.” I shrugged, feeling the nagging pain slowly return to my aching body.

The glass in the windows trembled and dust fell from the ceiling as a thundering roar, like an earthquake, rolled through whatever town we were lost in.

“What was that?” I glanced at the windows barely held in by their old wooden frames.

“My dragons,” she replied, not concerned about the occasional tremors felt through the ground.

“You have dragons now?” My brows rose to my hairline. “That’s . . . new.”

“You have a lot to catch up on.”

“Finnleah,” I calmly stated, our eyes doing most of the talking. We stared at each other without blinking. After a moment, she folded, making me smile.

“My Creator magic takes shape in the form of a creature within me. I am guessing with the raw fire in my veins, it only made sense to have it be a dragon. So when I released a portion of the Queen’s Creator magic, like you asked, by the way, it took the shape of actual dragons, breathing raw fire nonetheless.”

“Your soul split . . . ” A flash of solemnity flickered across my face. And Finnleah nodded. “How are you feeling?” I asked, this time with no playfulness, no taunting or teasing. For a Creator to make a living being, it required a piece of their soul, of their character.

I raised myself up in the bed, vision darkening in the corners of my eyes. Such a simple movement taking such a definitive toll on my body, as my arms trembled.

“I am fine. Maybe a bit off. Nothing compared to what you are going to be feeling when I am done with you.” She pierced me with her stare. “How dare you?” Finnleah’s eyes sparked with flames as her anger flashed.

“How about an answer for a kiss?” I taunted her, patting the little space next to me on my bed.

“How about I torture the answers out of you instead?”

“Whatever rocks your boat, the queen of my heart.” I smirked, and she shook her head, fighting the tug at the corners of her mouth. “Anything you desire, my love.”

“You are ludicrous.”

“And you are absolutely divine.”

“Your little compliments won’t get you out of this, Bellator,” she grumped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you can’t fucking die?” Her eyes widened, shooting sparks in my direction, her wrathful stare like the most luscious ointment to my bloodied heart.

“Technically, I do die. I just keep coming back.” I groaned, adjusting in my bed, to make myself stand up. I hid the painful winces away from her piercing gaze, but somehow, she knew as she scoffed with disapproval in her tone.

“You shouldn’t be moving,” she finally snapped.

“It’d be easier if you’d come to me, but I am no mountain. I will move myself to you.”

“Well, if you are going to be such an idiot, suit yourself and suffer; why would I care?” She pursed her lips together, irritated by my stubbornness, and yet faithful to hers as she stayed in her chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to give you false promises. I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“If I’d wake up or not. You see, I don’t quite know the full concept of how the whole resurrection part of my godhood works. I have no control over it.”

“What?” Her forehead wrinkled, concern and surprise mixed together.

I moved my legs under the blankets, each muscle screaming in protest.

“Why does my body look healed but feel like it got crushed in a pile of bricks?” I wheezed through a long breath, fighting through the agony.

“Turns out I am a shitty Healer,” Finnleah answered, dismissing my question.

“You healed me? I fucking knew you could do it!” A pleasant look of pride flashed across my face. But she folded her arms tighter.

“Are you telling me you went there and died not knowing you’d come back?!” she spoke, appalled.

“Something like that.” I tried wiggling my toes, but it was as if they were completely disconnected from the rest of my foot, no better than the piece of chair that was previously wedged into my leg. I shifted to the edge of my bed.

“What the actual hell, Gideon?!” The fire in her eyes blazed.

“It was a gamble. One definitely worth taking.” I grunted, attempting to stand up. My muscles trembled, straining as I forced a step, arms stretched out as I fought for balance—and lost. My body swayed. Finnleah jumped from the seat, her spiteful stare on me, but her arms wrapped around my bare torso, catching me.

“Don’t,” she threatened, my gaze overtaken by her touch as she steadied me. One arm around her shoulder, as I tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. I stared down her nose, mesmerized by her freckles. Her warm breath tickled against my exposed chest.

“Even on the darkest days, I clawed myself through the strongest jaws of despair, feverishly dreaming for a moment like this,” I whispered.

“For a moment where you couldn’t even stand straight?” Finnleah looked up at me, not letting go despite the anger still wild in her beautiful eyes. But her tone calmed, her heart matching the beat of mine as I held her closer.

“No, my love.” I smiled softly. “For a moment like this.” I tilted her chin up, ignoring my shaking hands, as my body felt ready to plummet away from consciousness.

My lips met hers. At first a gentle stroke, then stronger.

There was a chance she’d slap me across the face for stealing a kiss so selfishly. I’d deserve it too.

And yet she kissed me back. My heart and my body trembled at the feeling.

An eerie chill filled the room as our lips connected. Our longing souls ignited flames brighter than all the glowing stars of the universe.

“I’d die a thousand more deaths for a moment like this,” I murmured against her lips, stealing a breath from her.

“I’ll kill you myself twice as many times should you ever dare to abandon me again,” Finnleah murmured against my chest. “Now”—She weaseled herself out of my arms, a heartbeat too soon for my liking—“you’ve got your kiss, start talking.”

“I’d hardly call that a kiss. It was barely a peck.” I gave her a smug look, sitting down on the edge of the bed as the last remnants of energy abandoned me. “But perhaps if we try again, you could find my tongue more useful.”

She shook her head, desire and annoyance mixed in a very fiery concoction.

“You forget that I am the Goddess of Justice not of patience. So, better start talking.”

“As you wish, my Goddess ,” I drawled out slowly. My back rested against one of the posts and I patted a spot near me inviting for her to sit. She thought about it, craved it too. There was no denying it, and yet she theatrically took a seat across from me near a mismatched array of pillows.

“Did you know I was a goddess, or appointed to be one?” she asked.

“No,” I took another look at her, marveling at her divinity, at her beauty, at her sheer power. “But I had my theories after I found out about your powers,” I answered honestly, setting aside all jokes and my taunting tone.

The occasional trembling of the ground stopped, and quiet serenity filled the air.

“Why didn’t you tell me that was a possibility?”

“I did.” I groaned from shooting pain as I reached for her legs, resting her feet atop my thighs. “I recall you thinking I was insane for that.”

“How did you know that you were a god?”

My hands massaged her tight calves, my heart soothed that she’d allow me closer, pleased to see her shoulders eased as she settled further into the pillows.

“Well, for half of my life, I didn’t. The circumstances of my birth were quite peculiar, as you are aware. Destroyers don’t have children with Magic Wielders. Besides, traditionally and culturally, even in the very rare cases they did have relationships, the magic didn’t usually mix well to begin with not allowing such a result. Until my father, of course. The Great Betrayal was bad enough on its own. But the result—my existence—was much worse. Not only was there a child out of wedlock, a bastard, but I was the first with mixed-blood, a hybrid, a cursed child wielding raw fire. Diamara and my uncle spent their entire lives squashing any rumors of my birth mother’s true origins.”

“But what they didn’t quite prepare for is that to many Destroyers, being a bastard son of the Destroyer Emperor was big enough cause to be sentenced to death, regardless of me having mixed magic. So, even before I knew my own name, the most skilled assassins hunted me.”

Her curious look was on me. I adjusted my back, still keeping her legs atop of mine.

“My uncle tried to keep me safe, but when I was barely six years of age, they succeeded. He found me dead with a dagger in my heart on my bed that night. Two days later, they were embalming my body when I woke up. I don’t remember much about what happened then. But I know my uncle hid me away and invited every person that knew of my death to a sham funeral. At the mourning feast, he locked them all in the dining hall and burned them. But he knew that would not be enough to hide the truth. So he spread rumors that there was an attempt on my life and my raw fire had killed the attackers. But since as a child I was still working on properly controlling of it, my fire killed the rest of the attendees as well. So he declared that it was a freak accident in the name of survival.”

I slowly worked on unlacing her boots, taking them off, massaging down from her calves to her feet.

“My uncle was the one who gave me the nickname. ‘Little Lord of Death,’ he called me. A worthy nickname for a child that had survived an assassination attempt and committed a mass murder all in the same afternoon. I must say such a reputation did wonders for my popularity.” My lips stretched with a crooked grin, reminiscent of the memory. “As a child, I didn’t question it much, neither did my uncle, writing off our secret as some odd miracle.”

My hands froze on her toes, frowning at number of blisters, skin bloodied almost to the bone in some spots.

“Finnleah . . . ” This time it was my scornful look thrown in her direction. “Why are you torturing yourself? What happened to the boots I got for you?”

“Lost. And I didn’t quite have the time for shopping, so I found ones that fit.” She dismissed me, pulling her feet away, but I held her ankles, not letting go.

“Except they don’t fit.” The muscle in my jaw twitched, and like a dull knife, frustration nudged me in my heart at the sight of her torn feet.

“They serve their purpose as boots and my feet fit into them, so they are good enough,” she argued. “Now continue the story or I will wear the too small of a pair of shoes forever.” She narrowed her eyes on me. I matched her daring look. She waited, and I caved to her gaze. Submitting to her demand, I continued talking, though in the back of my mind I wondered how many shoemakers would have to die by sunrise, should I not find the perfect pair of boots for her.

“The second time I died when I was ten. That time it was an accident a during sparring session, though looking back, I am not so sure it was entirely an accident. Severed neck, bled out within minutes. But three days later, I woke up alive, no rhyme or reason as to why. So my uncle did what he had done before, and executed every single witness of the incident. At that point as a kid I understood something was off, but I had little knowledge as to why or what exactly was different about me causing such bizarreness. The third time was when I was fourteen, my uncle killed me.”

“What?” She gaped at me.

“I agreed to it. I had been poisoned and was already dying, so instead of suffering through the venom, my uncle stabbed me in the stomach with his sword. Not a pleasant death, I must say. But four days later, I woke up yet again—alive and well.” I paused, distracted by her beauty, as my thoughts drifted away to the memory of the taste of her on my lips.

“Continue,” she prompted after a moment, and I did.

“There were a few more times after that. After one particularly gruesome death, I didn’t wake up for a week. During that time, unbeknownst how, I managed to summon Death. When she bowed, it dawned on me that perhaps there was a reason for my miraculous immortality. But once I woke up, I also understood that the more I conversed with Death, the longer I stayed dead. And the longer I was away, the longer my mortal body slowly deteriorated each hour it was separated from my soul. At that point, the Lord of Death title gained a whole different meaning to me. When I came back, I dove into anything I could find about godhood creation. As you can imagine, I did not find much. I searched for my lineage. I searched for my blood magic origins. But after years of not getting any answers, I accepted the truths of what I did know and didn’t know. I was a Justice Wielder and a damn good one, might I add.” An arrogant smile stretched on my face as I winked at her. “I was also the only heir to the Destroyer Empire. At that point, I had already found Xentar and knew that it was in my power to restore the True Order. Especially considering I would be quite triumphant in my quest, considering I was somewhat immortal. Though a part of me never knew if my next death would be the last. Whatever, whoever I was, was beyond my understanding. Add to that the thought of knowing there was a Soulbond with raw fire waiting for me to spend eternity together, and I wasn’t quite rushing to cross the veil to try to learn more.”

“So, you just continued dying and coming back?”

“Not quite. Once my rebellion plans were in full force, I avoided dying. As much as I appreciate my gift of resurrection, it doesn’t protect me from the agony of death and the excruciating recovery after. The older I got, the more agonizing the process became. As I matured, I figured dying was not an interest I wanted to pursue, so I tried to stay alive. Though I must say, knowing that there was always a strong likelihood of me surviving no matter what did attribute to my overly confident attitude towards life.” I tickled her heel, and she squirmed, making me chuckle.

“That explains a lot.” Finnleah gave me a snide smirk, painfully kicking my thigh with her heel for tickling her.

“The next time I died was near the Cursed Forest, when you shot me and poisoned me. I made that bet with you, not knowing if I would wake up again. But I fucking hoped with everything I had that I would.”

“You truly died that day?” she asked, appalled at the revelation.

“You shot a giant poisoned Basalt Glass arrow nicking my heart, then shot me a few more times after that for a good measure, injecting me with enough poison to kill a giant beast, and though no doubt I am one”—I winked at her, grinning with a boyish smile—”I did unfortunately die. But seeing you absolutely infatuated with me, I had no choice but to come back.”

“You are a fool.” She rolled her eyes at me, giving me a disparaging look.

The playful little thing knew exactly what her snarky glances would do to me. But what she didn’t know was that each minute I spent in her presence made me feel more alive than I had ever been before. Her floral scent, her mocking smirks, the feel of her skin at my fingertips, called upon the forces that no pain or agony could stifle. I looked at her again, silently daring her. She didn’t back down. Still holding on to her legs, I pulled her body fully next to mine, until my hands were pinning her thighs. I hovered over her, my eyes piercing hers, surrounded by the light from the lonely candle.

“I am in love with you, Finnleah. My body, mind, and soul are enslaved by you. If that makes me a fool, then so be it. It’s a title I’ll proudly wear.”

She straightened her elbows, rising until her nose was almost touching mine. Her fingers traced the outline of my jaw as she met my craving stare, my body withering at her gentle touch, longing for more.

“So . . . God of Triumph, ” she started, her eyes filled with carnal desire, one that would break me and put me back together at the same time, one I’d crawl for, begging for more and more every fucking moment of my life. “How?—”

Priya barged into the room without knocking, disappointed to see me alive.

“Your dragons are eating the villagers, Freckles. And apparently nobody’s got the balls to tell you, so I somehow turned into the fucking messenger boy. Truthfully, for all I care, I’d let those beasts devour the obnoxious peasants, but their constant screaming is keeping me from falling asleep. And I am really fucking tired. So you fix it, or I am going to fix it,” she sneered.

“Shit, I am going.” Finnleah held the bridge of her nose. The flaming desire within her dwindling right in front of my eyes.

“We could feed the Truth Teller to the dragons. That could fix both of our problems,” I whispered against her lips, still not letting go of her perfect legs.

“You need rest, Gideon,” she murmured.

“I can promise you rest is the very last thing I need right now,” I rose my brow suggestively.

“Learn how to walk first, then we can talk.” She landed a kiss on the tip of my nose, before she moved her legs away from me, but not without making sure her fingers seamlessly brushed over my aroused cock, content with how hot and bothered she got me with just her sinful little looks. She laced up her too small boots, making me grind my teeth at the sight.

Finnleah rushed towards the door where the hateful Truth Teller impatiently waited for her.

Priya glared at me, not hiding her repulsion at my existence. I returned the look myself, very much reciprocating the sentiment. A part of me considered if I could write off Priya suddenly combusting as a freak fire accident, too.

“Eventually, you two will have to learn how to get along.” Finnleah clicked her tongue, noticing the silent threats thrown around.

“I’d rather die the slowest death first.” Priya glowered.

“If that’s all it takes, why wait? I can help with that right now.” I let the flames spark in my eyes, matching my sharp frown.

“Oh my gods, calm down, you two,” Finnleah commanded both of us, glaring at Priya and her drawn daggers. She growled, but slid them back into their sheaths under Finn’s piercing look. A wickedly smug look painted on my face, but not for long as Finnleah paused in the doorway, giving me a glance over her shoulder.

“Our conversation is far from over, you still have a lot to answer for, so get some rest, husband. ” She threw a perfect smile at me, and like a dog starving for a bone, I ate it up. She stepped out of the room. “Oh, and by the way, I stabbed your brother,” she blurted out before completely shutting the door and bolting away.

“You did what?” My brows shot up, but she was already gone, leaving me in the empty room, starving for her presence once more.