Page 40 of Bride of Death

Serapina fishes something out of her pocket, her gaze attempting to scan the label on the bag. I read it easily even though we’re shrouded in the shadows cast by a nearby skeleton tree.

Red Roses,the label says.

I arch a brow. “Those seeds will do absolutely nothing because this kingdom is about death, not life.”

Serapina shrieks and stands, then spins around in a complete circle, her gaze scanning the courtyard.

Ah, right, I’m still in the mist.

I reveal myself to her, which has her backpedaling quickly into the bony stump of the tree.

“Oh!” she gasps, her heart singing an unsteady beat—one I listen to for a moment before lifting my palms in a gesture of innocence.

Scaring her isn’t my intent.

Though, I should have remembered that before I spoke. However, seeing her gardening project inspired me to comment.

“I mean you no harm, little dreamer,” I promise her.

She swallows a few times, her palm sliding up to her slender throat in a nervous gesture, one that makes me want to reach for her and offer comfort.

Fae, I would never hurt her. But I would absolutely hurtforher.

I’d lie on a thousand burning coals and let her walk across my bare skin if it meant securing her safety. And I’d suffer dozens of Strigoi bites and let Ghouls feast upon my dreams if it gave her pleasure.

She’s an Omega.

I live to serve her as an Alpha, even if she chooses another mate.

It’s simply the nature of who we are as Mythos Fae.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” I add, lowering my hands. “I just wanted to offer some advice.”

Her gaze narrows. “What kind of advice?” she asks slowly, suspicion coloring her features. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to fear me. But she clearly doesn’t trust me either.

That’s fair. We’ve never met, and she has no idea who or what I am.

“Well, for starters, you’re wasting your time on those seeds,” I inform her conversationally. “They’re meant for the Human Realm, not the Netherworld Kingdom.”

“I know. I bought them from one of the swap stores,” she tells me, referring to the shops in the Netherworld Village that sell wares from around the realms. “But the storekeeper promised me the roses would grow here.”

“The storekeeper lied,” I say flatly. “Which one did you speak to?” I don’t voice it as a polite inquiry, but as a demand. Because I will absolutely be having a stern word with that individual for tricking my intended.

Serapina mutters a name, one I commit to memory. Then she bends to start digging in the black dirt. I wince as she yanks her hands away on a hiss, the ground likely having gone cold beneath her touch.

“If you planted your seeds there, they’re long dead,” I tell her softly. “But I can help you acquire new ones.”

She looks me over, but she can’t see me well in the shadows. I can tell because she keeps squinting.So very human.

“Why would you help me at all?” she asks, then places her hands on her hips. “Actually, no, let me guess.”

“Please do,” I interject, intrigued.

“It’s because you felt compelled to, right? Because of the nuptials thing?”

“Hmm, no,” I tell her. “I certainly don’t feel compelled to as a result of any nuptials.”

Though, perhaps I feel compelled to because she’s mine to cherish. However, that wasn’t her guess. So I let her continue.