Page 8

8

GAIDA

I trace the contours of Luke’s face with my fingertips, memorising every line, every angle.

“We should get back,” I whisper, though I make no move to leave the sanctuary of his arms. “Felix will be plotting Draken’s murder by now.”

Luke’s lips quirk into a half-smile. “Ambitious of him.”

“That’s Felix. Never met a problem he couldn’t overthink.”

Luke shifts, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His eyes, those impossibly blue eyes that have seen fifteen centuries come and go, search mine with an intensity that steals my breath.

“Are you certain about this, Gaida?” he asks, his voice low. “Once it’s done, I can’t go through this again. Especially not with you.”

“I wouldn’t break the bond once it’s done. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “But there’s something else you should understand about sire bonds. More intimate than blood bonds. It’s a piece of your soul binding to mine.”

“Will it change how I feel about you?”

“No,” he says after a moment. “But it will deepen it. Intensify it. There will be no hiding from each other anymore. No secrets.”

“I don’t have secrets from you.”

His smile is sad. “Everyone has secrets, Gaida. Even from themselves.”

I sit up, pulling the sheet around me as I face him. “I’m not afraid of that. I’m afraid of failing you. Of failing everyone.”

Luke sits up as well, his naked chest gleaming in the waning moonlight. “That’s not possible.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

“No,” he says, taking my hand. “I have exactly the right amount.”

I lean forward, resting my forehead against his. “Then let’s do this. Let’s use the sword and create a new bond.”

“If Mashtar lets you.”

“He won’t have a choice.”

“I’m worried about Draken.”

“He seems on the up and up, although I won’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

“He appears to be on the same side as us, but that doesn’t make him a friend.”

“I know.”

“Your reaction to him is concerning.”

“What reaction?”

He gives me a look that screams, ‘Don’t act dumb with me.’ “He is your supposed mate.”

“Doesn’t mean jackshit.”

“No?” Luke’s voice carries an edge that makes me shiver. “Your body says otherwise.”

“My body has a mind of its own,” I grumble, pulling away slightly. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.”

“And if he pushes?”

“Then I’ll push back harder.” I cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “Luke, I know what I want. Who I want. This whole Blood Queen business doesn’t change that.”

His eyes search mine, and I can see the conflict. The ancient vampire is warring with the man who wants to believe me. “There are forces at work here beyond our understanding. Ancient powers that have been waiting for you.”

“They can keep waiting,” I say firmly. “I make my own choices.”

We dress in silence, this mate business hanging tenuously between us. I know I won’t act on the supposed connection to Draken. Do I find him attractive? Yeah, sure. Is he a bit sexy? Definitely. Did he save me from his dad with a sword to the face? Yep.

But so what? None of that compares with what I feel for the three men I chose. I will fight whatever it is with everything that I have because it’s not worth it. It’s not worth losing my men. It’s not worth losing myself.

When I’m fully clothed, Luke pulls me into his arms again, his kiss fierce and possessive.

“Mine,” he whispers against my lips.

“Yours. And you’re mine.”

“Always.”

When we return to the vault, in a flash of magick, Felix and Dante are deep in conversation, their heads bent together as they argue in hushed tones. They look up as we approach, and I can see the question in their eyes.

“We’ve decided,” I announce before they can ask. “I’m going to break Luke’s bond with Mashtar and become his sire.”

Felix nods slowly. “You tell us something we didn’t already know.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, making him chuckle. “The plan is to get the sword and break Luke’s bond with Mashtar.”

“And how exactly are you going to do all this with Mashtar fighting you every step of the way?” Dante asks.

I take a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. But I think the Blood Queen part of me does.”

“That’s reassuring,” Felix mutters.

Luke places his hand on the vault door, his expression grim. “They’re both still in there, at least.”

“That’s… good,” Felix grumbles.

“Draken is waiting. Mashtar is... furious.”

I square my shoulders. “Let him be furious. He doesn’t get to control us anymore.”

Luke’s eyes meet mine, a silent communication passing between us. Then he releases the wards with a flick of his wrist, and the vault door swings open.

Draken stands exactly where we left him, the sword still in his hand. He hasn’t moved an inch, which is somehow more unnerving than if he’d been pacing or plotting.

“Took you long enough,” he says, his emerald eyes flicking between Luke and me. His nostrils flare slightly. “I see you’ve made your decision.”

“We have,” I say, stepping forward. “I’m taking the sword.”

Draken’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, and I fight the urge to slap it off his face. Instead, I step forward, hand outstretched.

“Give it to me.”

He extends the sword toward me, hilt first. “By all means, my Queen.”

I take a step forward, but Luke’s hand on my arm stops me.

“Wait,” he says, his voice tight with tension.

“Why?” I reply, never taking my eyes off Draken.

“This is too easy. There’s something we’re missing.”

Draken’s smile turns cold. “What you’re missing, Blackthorn, is that you have no choice. You want her. Mashtar wants her. I want her. The only question is which of us will have her.”

“Erm,” Felix starts, but Dante elbows him sharply, and he goes quiet again. Now isn’t the time to debate the loves in my life.

“None of you will ‘have’ me,” I snap, yanking my arm free from Luke’s grip. “I’m not a possession.”

“Of course not,” Draken says, his voice softening to a caress that makes my skin prickle. “You are the Queen. The decider of fates.”

Felix moves to stand beside me, his grey eyes calculating. “What happens when she takes the sword?”

Draken shrugs, a casual gesture that seems at odds with the ancient power radiating from him. “She’ll feel Mashtar’s presence. His rage. His desire. And then she’ll make her choice.”

“And if she chooses to destroy him?” Dante asks.

“If she destroys him before she creates a bond, then that will never happen.”

“How do I destroy the sword without releasing Mashtar?” I ask suddenly, my eyes transfixed on the blood dripping from Draken’s palm, where he still grips the blade of the sword.

“With a Blood Magick ritual that will scare the living daylights out of you.” His smile is ice cold.

“Fair enough. I guess I wasn’t expecting anything less. You know this ritual.”

“It is in the book.”

“Which book?” I ask innocently, although I think I know.

He knows I know and doesn’t answer me, only gives me a sexier smile as he gestures for me to take the sword.

I glance at Luke. He gives me a curt nod, although I can see the caution still in his eyes. But we are at the point in time where we have to do this, or everything goes to hell.

With a deep breath, I reach for the sword, my fingers hovering just above the hilt. The moment my skin makes contact with the metal, a jolt of power surges through me. It’s not pain exactly, more like being struck by lightning, but somehow surviving it. My vision blurs as images flood my mind of ancient battles, blood-soaked fields, and the screams of the dying. I see a world torn asunder, split into pieces by forces beyond comprehension.

Mashtar’s rage is a living thing, burning through the connection, seeking to consume me. I can feel his desire for freedom, for revenge against his son, for control over me, for his plans for Luke.

“Gaida!” Luke’s voice sounds distant, as if he’s calling to me from across a vast canyon.

I grip the sword tighter, forcing myself to stand straight despite the weight of Mashtar’s presence bearing down on me. “I’m okay,” I manage to say, though my voice sounds strange.

The sword burns in my hand, hot and demanding. My blood is what it wants. What he wants.

I turn to Luke, the sword raised. This is how it has to happen. I sever the bond with the sword like I did before, and then I recreate it with Luke tied to me.

For eternity.

As my charge.

I hesitate. I can’t help it.

Luke sees it and concern floods his gaze, but I can’t stop to make sure this is the right thing. It has to be. It’s the only thing. Mashtar won’t give him up to anyone else. I’m doubting if he will even give him up to me now.

Am I strong enough for this?

Fuck’s sake, Gaida. Just do it.

I glance at Dante, and he grits his teeth, making a gesture with his hand to get on with it.

We will be there to help you. Felix and me. It’s what we were discussing when you arrived. You aren’t alone. Do it. Do it now before this all goes in a sideways skid straight to hell.

I nod at Dante to let him know I heard him. I raise the sword and bring it down in one swift motion, slicing through the invisible bond between Luke and Mashtar. The blade passes through nothing physical, yet I feel the resistance. Luke staggers backwards with a strangled cry, his knees buckling as he collapses to the floor.

Wind whips around us, which is something that didn’t happen last time, but I stay the course. I focus everything on severing the sire bond between Luke and Mashtar, just like I did between Luke and Lucius.

I feel when it snaps. It’s like a crack of thunder in my head and lightning in my blood.

Come to me, Luke Blackthorn. Let me be your sire. The one you need to give you stability and comfort.

I don’t need to say these words, but it gives me the strength to keep going.

Felix’s shield around my empathic abilities breaks under the force of this severing, and I scream as the emotions of three ancient creatures rushes in, blinding me.

“Focus on Luke,” Dante says, knowing immediately what has happened.

“Push everything else aside,” Felix says, coming up behind me and placing his hands on either side of my head.

A white-hot pain lances through my brain, and I cry out, tightening my grip on the sword. I struggle to wade through the emotions, but I find Luke and what I feel from him scares me. All of his memories and emotions of being sired to Lucius, used, abused, controlled flood my senses, overwhelming me to the point where I nearly drop to my knees. Only Felix’s arms going around my waist hold me up.

“Luke,” I whimper.

His eyes meet mine, and I can see the horror there. He knows what I can see. He knows what he is feeling about being sired to me is on display for me to see and take in with a feeling of dread.

He shakes his head. “It’s not?—”

“It’s okay,” I manage to get out as Felix steadies me. “I am not Lucius. I will never be Lucius.”

“I know,” he whispers.

I press my free hand to his cheek, feeling the tremors running through him. “Do you want this? Still? Now that you’re free?”

For a heartbeat, he says nothing.

Panic floods me.

His bond to Mashtar is severed. If he doesn’t bond to me, he will go feral, and eventually we will have to kill him or contain him for eternity. But I won’t force him if he has changed his mind.

Then he nods, once, firmly. “Yes.”

That’s all I need. I bring the sword to my wrist and slice, the blade cutting deeper than I intended. Blood wells up, dark and rich, running down my arm in rivulets. I hold my bleeding wrist to Luke’s mouth.

“Drink.”

It’s symbolic, nothing more. I use the power contained in the sword, the power that can restore or redirect bonds that I never really understood until now, to bind his life to mine.

The force of the sire bond hits me in the chest, squeezing my lungs until I go dizzy from lack of oxygen. Luke takes my wrist, his lips closing over the wound.

The moment his tongue touches my blood, the connection between us explodes into something beyond physical understanding. I see everything. Fifteen centuries of memories flood through me in an instant. Not just his pain, but his joys, his sorrows, his victories, his failures. The people he’s loved and lost. The darkness he’s fought against. The light he’s protected.

I know the exact moment the bond snaps into place. It’s like a key turning in a lock and flinging a door open. Luke’s eyes fly open, locking with mine. They’re a swirling vortex of blue and gold, the colours dancing together like flames.

“Gaida,” he breathes against my wrist, his voice reverent.

“I feel you,” I whisper. “All of you.”

The sword in my hand vibrates violently. Mashtar’s rage surges through it, and then it vanishes.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Draken states, breaking through the moment between me and Luke.

I lock eyes with Luke for the first time as his sire. He drops my wrist, his breathing ragged. “Find the sword,” he rasps before it all gets too much for him, and he passes out.