Page 37 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

36

MAVEN

Turns out, you can fuck around in bed for a long time when you’re actively ignoring anything waiting outside the front door.

It helps that, in between making me scream his name, Crypt has slipped away several times through Limbo and returned to our quintet apartment with stolen food items and anything else we’ve needed. Between the mind-melting pleasure of fucking my quintet until we pass out—except for Crypt, who has avoided sleep since waking up from Syntyche’s spell—only for it to start again when we wake up, interspersed with a few steamy showers, short meals, and near-constant cuddling…

Gods, I’ve almost lost track of time.

I’ve also started to struggle with all the constant touching.

I’m not going to breathe a word about it, not when I just got these gorgeous legacies back. Being newly bonded and so extremely well sated is fucking amazing . I still want to touch and adore each of them as much as I can, no matter what my stupid past conditioning wants to remind me of.

But the jig is up when Crypt, who’s currently spooning me as the rest of us sleep off another fuckfest, starts to trail languid kisses over the back of my neck.

I don’t mean to tense up. When I do, he immediately goes still.

“I’m good,” I say quickly.

But it’s too late. He’s already putting space between us. When I roll over to look at him, he’s gazing dreamily at me despite his lit-up markings.

“Take all the moments you need, love.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” I insist again.

I thought Baelfire was still asleep, but he turns over on my other side, propping his head up as he studies me sleepily. “No, Boo, we’ve been selfish. And rough. Godsdamn, look at all those love bites,” he adds, almost smiling. He starts to reach for me and then pulls back, checking himself.

I scowl. “Touch me. I can handle it.”

“It’s not about you handling it, darling. It’s about you enjoying it,” Crypt points out.

I still want to protest, but his markings light up brightly several times in a row. I only glimpse a brief flash of pain on his face before he vanishes into Limbo.

My heart twinges.

Gods, what a fucking horrible new sensation.

I know my Nightmare Prince is in pain. His curse has bothered him less since we rebonded, but it hasn't and can't be broken. I would bet anything he's only going into Limbo to hide the worst of it from me.

As heavenly as it's been to bask in my rebonded quintet, this is like a shock of cold water being poured over my head. I hate when I can't protect what's mine.

No. I'll find a way to fix it, I think.

I didn't mean to communicate through the quintet bond, but it apparently wakes Everett because his arm encircles me from behind. He was lying on the other side of Crypt in this massive bed, but now he pulls me against his chest and kisses my temple with refreshingly cool lips.

“ We’ll find a way,” he corrects softly.

I nod, take a deep breath, and gently extricate myself from his arms to slip off the bed. Maybe I do need space, because that niggling discomfort crawling over my spine finally calms down.

Realizing the air no longer has the same cold bite to it as it did before, I glance at one of the windows and find that it’s no longer coated in layers of ice and frost. In fact, it’s almost a normal temperature in this room.

Silas wakes and sits up, his crimson gaze trailing over me as a smirk curls his lips. “I'm beginning to understand why shifters enjoy marking their mates so much. You're stunning, ima sangfluir.”

Since they're all unabashedly checking out my love-mark-covered body, I can't help the impish urge to tease them. Turning, I stroll to the corner where my clothes and knives were discarded at some point. When I bend over, giving them a full view of my bare ass as I reach for my things, I'm rewarded with three beautifully tortured groans.

But when my hand grazes the handle of the etherium knife, another surge of memories crashes over me, stronger than ever before.

“Just because you can read my mind doesn’t mean you can change it,” Memory Me warns.

I’m back in that idyllic, sunlight-dappled forest, walking side-by-side with Galene. Her golden hair gleams in the lighting, her ever-changing irises shifting from purple to blue to green as she glances at me.

“As I once told you, my fearless one, I know you far better than you might think. I’m aware how futile it would be to try to change your mind,” she says softly. “I also know what you wish to ask next.”

I ask anyway. “Why did Arati call me your secret earlier?”

Galene speaks slowly, as if she’s not sure how to break more news. “You are my secret because I am the reason you came to be.”

Remembering Iker Del Mar’s words about my existence being orchestrated, I make some quick deductions and take a stab at it.

“Let me guess. Once you realized the Immortal Quintet sacrificed humans to suffer like animals in the Nether, you looked into the future and decided that the way to fix it was by sending me into the Nether.”

Galene gives me a sad, almost guilty smile. “Not quite. The truth is, I foresaw you long before the Immortal Quintet. You see…it was my fault that Amadeus conquered and corrupted the Nether in the first place. He was one of my chosen saints, back in his mortal days long ago.”

I pause to stare at her as that sinks in. I suppose if Amadeus got his abilities from Galene, the goddess of prophecy, that does explain his foresight.

But Amadeus being a saint, even when he was human? That’s…

“Hard to believe now,” the goddess agrees quietly. She looks away as if she’s looking back through time. Millennia ago, the Nether teemed with life. It was the land of the fae and of wild magic, and though it could be dangerous for humans because of the monsters there, those monsters mostly kept to themselves and caused no harm. I often descended from Paradise to admire that land. That is where I met Amadeus, in one of my temples that the fae had built. He was a pure soul then, one who desired little more than having a family of his own one day.”

Her expression darkens as she looks back at me in this memory. “They call me The Knowing, but I am not omniscient. I cannot see everything at all times. I thought Amadeus admired me just as any mortal revered the gods. But after nearly two decades serving as my saint, his worship of me grew strange. Lewd. I realized he desired me, and nothing would deter him from believing he deserved a place at my side in Paradise.”

She gestures around us at the ridiculously beautiful woods as we begin walking again. Fairies flit about through the treetops, and constellations continue to dance in the perfect sky overhead. It smells like crisp fall woods, but the temperature remains perfect.

I want to hate it here, but I can't stop staring when a herd of pure white deer amble across the path ahead of us. They're followed by two giggling girls who look like they're literally made of leaves and wood. They bow when they see us before skipping away, holding hands.

“Dryads,” Galene supplies, running her hand over tall golden ferns as we pass them. “You’re right that it is easy to love Paradise. In fact, I can see a future of you finding a form of happiness here, far in the future, if you decide to stay.”

Not interested.

“You were just about to tell me how you rejected Amadeus. Let me guess. He didn’t take it well and retaliated by becoming the king of the Undead,” I muse.

She looks sad again. “In greatly simplified terms, yes, that is what happened. Once a saint is selected, their holy powers cannot be taken away. But after I spurned him, Amadeus wanted nothing to do with holy matters. In an abominable dark ritual unlike anything I have seen before, he corrupted his powers and sacrificed his own heart in order to gain his immortality and necromantic powers.”

Yep. That sounds much more like my dear wannabe father.

Galene nods in agreement. “Amadeus then used his life force to corrupt the Nether, slaughtering the fae until they fled by the masses to the mortal realm to start a new existence there. Times grew exceedingly dark until the Great Wars, when we finally put the Divide in place. The Nether had already become the terrible dimension of darkness it is now—I could no longer even see into that dark place, nor could we gods hear prayers from that place. We have no power in that realm. By the time we realized that humans were suffering so heavily there, it was too late. They were out of our reach.”

I consider that. “You didn’t think about just popping back down into the mortal realm and killing Amadeus yourself?”

We come to a place where the path splits. The goddess of knowing turns left as she sighs, shaking her head.

“We gods are explicitly forbidden from meddling directly with the workings of the mortal world, unless fate so decrees it. We can only send messages, servants, and the like. Any deity who meddles without permission simply ceases to exist. My own meddling to bring you and your quintet to fruition was slight, but enough that the other gods were quite terrified I would vanish.”

Galene turns to face me, her expression brightening. “But fate knows best, for one fateful midnight, I had a particularly powerful vision. I saw Syntyche freeing the humans of the Nether. I witnessed great bloodshed and horrors just before a time of unrivaled peace unlike the world had seen in ages. The vision confused me until I later foresaw Amato and realized it was not Syntyche ending the reign of Amadeus, but you . Of course…”

She pauses and looks sheepish. “It is quite difficult for humans and gods to conceive together. Not to mention, the other gods frown upon such unions. I could not tell them any of this, not until Amato became an admirable doctor in the mortal realm. Finally, I told Syntyche, because the only future in which I saw Amadeus defeated and the Nether cleansed was the one in which you existed.” She laughs lightly. “And so it came to pass that the goddess of life asked the goddess of death for a favor.”

A favor.

As in, Galene asked Syntyche to conceive me with Amato. I’m the favor.

Damn. My existence really was orchestrated. I was born to be a means to an end.

Galene shakes her head quickly, her pretty face distressed. “No, Maven. You were born for far more than that. I could not observe you in the Nether, but I know there were a great many chances for you to give up or act selfishly. There was no certainty that you would do what needed to be done, but look at what you accomplished. Think of all the future human lives you have given a brand new existence to. What I see going forward is so much brighter, thanks to you.”

Ignoring all the pretty words she’s throwing at me, I squint at her. “What did Syntyche get in exchange for getting knocked up by a mortal?”

“Nothing yet. I still owe your mother a great favor of her choosing, whenever she wishes to call it in.”

Still. She basically pimped out the goddess of death to fix her ancient mistake.

How classy.

Galene’s laugh is pure amusement. “No one could ‘pimp’ Syntyche out, I assure you. Though your mother will never admit it, I sensed how deeply she respected Pietro. She was fond of him. Years later, when a noble act nearly took Pietro’s life, he became one of the few mortals whom she has ever pardoned from a true brush with death. He deeply cherished and adored her, even knowing who and what she is. It wasn’t the type of love most know, but it was the nearest thing to it that your mother has ever experienced.”

Her soft, echoed words evaporate along with the surge of memories. I jolt back to myself and quickly realize I’m back inside the oversized hoodie I stashed my to-do list in last. I’m straddling Crypt’s lap, facing him as he holds me in one of the wooden chairs in our quintet apartment kitchen. Just like the bedroom, it’s far less cold everywhere in our quintet apartment.

A sign that Everett’s curse is gone. Everything is slowly thawing.

The others are in here, too. Baelfire is dressed in only shorts as he stirs something on the stove. Silas is carefully combining potion ingredients at the table beside us, and Everett is on the opposite end of the table wearing his adorable-as-fuck reading glasses as he rubs his temple, scowling down at a handwritten letter.

The moment Crypt sees that I’m out of the trance, he grins. “There’s our girl. How was your latest stroll down memory lane, darling?”

I’m still reeling from all the information returned to my brain. Amadeus’s mysterious past, the gods’ limits, how I came to be...

It doesn’t take a mathematician to run the numbers and realize Syntyche must have spared Pietro Amato’s life right after he took a beating for trying to stop Asher Douglas’s father. If there wasn’t such a high chance that Douglas’s father was already dead, I’d consider tracking him down to kill him myself. Maybe I’ll ask the mercenary about it later.

Refocusing on Crypt, I start to answer his question, but my gaze locks onto his neck. There are still light and dark swirls there, but…there used to be more. I noticed it during sex, too. Several markings are missing on his hands, legs, and torso.

I give him a stare-down, speaking only to him telepathically. Where are the rest of your markings?

He studies me for a moment before kissing my forehead. Later, love. There’s enough going on as is.

That’s a fucking brush-off if I’ve ever heard one.

We’re interrupted when Baelfire blurs to our side, holding the stirring spoon in one hand and gently tipping my chin up with his other so he can have my attention. Damn, he looks good in a collar. All of his delicious golden muscles are on display as he smiles down at me. There’s no more pain or feral gleam in his molten amber eyes—just the characteristic excitement of my charming match.

“You were out of it for a while. How’re you feeling, Raincloud?”

Honestly? Aside from the memories still settling in my head, I feel incredible. Powerful.

Like I’m theirs again.

With the heart pumping steadily in my emblem-marked chest, I feel stronger, too. The difference is so clear to me now that it’s no wonder I felt like my holy magic was so weak. It was all going toward keeping me alive.

But now that I have my matches back, a heart beats in my chest, we’re bound again, and I’ve fucked them senseless for hours on end…it may be time to address the bad news I’ve been trying like hell not to think about.

It’s only fair to warn them.

I clear my throat. “We may have a problem.”

“What else is new?” Everett deadpans, glancing up from the letter he’s been reading.

“I made a blood oath.”

Silas nods as he discreetly de-stems reverium to add to the potion ingredients. How odd. Is he making something for Crypt? I don’t think my incubus notices.

“We know, sangfluir . The Nether humans are free thanks to that oath.”

“Another one,” I clarify. “I made another blood oath.”

Four heads whip toward me so fast it would be comical if my quintet didn’t look half shocked and half livid.

“What?” Everett sputters, ripping off his reading glasses to give me the full force of his penetrating blue stare. “When? And who the hell did you make the oath to?”

“Arati.”

“What?” they all shout at once as Baelfire accidentally snaps the stirring spoon in half.

Their voices are surprisingly harmonious together, but now probably isn’t the time to mention it when they’re all swearing and reacting so strongly.

“And what exactly did you swear to do this time?” Crypt demands, his violet eyes hard as they search mine.

“If it puts you in danger, I swear on the fucking gods…” Everett trails off dangerously before shoving his seat away from the table and standing to pace.

Silas’s red stare is inescapable as Baelfire tosses aside the broken spoon, all traces of his smile gone. Their angry scrutiny doesn’t budge as the oven timer goes off.

“I don’t remember. Yet,” I add, like that one word is the good news.

“Godsdamn it all, Maven,” Silas sighs, exasperated. “You can’t keep doing this to us.”

“At this point, I’m going to make you make a fucking blood oath to stop making blood oaths,” Baelfire grits, storming back to the oven to turn off the timer.

Their reactions are justified. Considering the hell I’ve put them through, I’m a little surprised they haven’t tried tying me up in one of the rooms to make sure I never step foot outside the door again. But as irritated as I am that I can’t remember what oath I made, I do know one thing.

“Whatever happened in Paradise, I chose you four,” I tell them quietly. “I would never swear an oath that would put you in danger.”

“Us? You think we’re worried about us?” Baelfire growls.

He pulls a casserole of some kind out of the oven with his bare hand before slamming the oven door shut and whirling to stalk toward me again. I forgot how impressive Baelfire’s temper is, but…gods. He can be kind of scary when he’s this mad, with blue fire flickering ominously under his tanned skin.

“We’d live for you. We’d die for you. We’re yours —so do whatever the fuck you want with us. That’s not the problem,” he snaps. “The problem is, you’re too fucking self-sacrificing. You literally went through hell to get humans you didn’t even know out of the Nether. What if your blood oath had to do with getting back here, huh? How much more would you choose to suffer just to return to us?”

“A lot more,” I agree without missing a beat, getting off of Crypt’s lap so I can stand and glare up at my furious, towering shifter better. “You’re right. I would have done anything— except hurting you four. So whatever price I agreed to pay, it would have been with full intent to stay here with you. It worked, because I’m back and we’re bound and so fucking help me, nothing and no one will stop me from finally enjoying a long, peaceful life with the men I lo?—”

I catch myself and press my lips together.

Shit. I’ve told each of them individually, but saying it out loud in front of my complete, bound quintet is different.

Silas raises his brows, his frustration starting to dissipate as he smirks at me on the other side of the table. “Yes? The men you…?”

“You know,” I mumble.

“We know, but we’d like to hear it,” Crypt grins. “Come on, darling. Confess.”

I decide this conversation has been productive enough and turn to study the food Baelfire just made. Whatever it is, it has potatoes and cheese in it and smells amazing. “That masterpiece is going to get cold.”

“How is it possible that you fell from fucking Paradise to get back to us, and you still think it’s weird to say the ‘L-word’ out loud?” Everett asks, baffled.

Before I can pretend the potato casserole has my full attention, Baelfire envelops me in his strong, warm arms. He kisses the top of my head, sighing as his shifter temper subsides as quickly as it was riled.

“You know, Cutie Pie, it’s really fucking hard to stay mad when I know you just do stupid shit out of love. But if you get all your memories back and we find out this blood oath is going to cause you pain, I’ll...” He stops, considering.

I tip my head back to smirk at him. “I love a good threat, so go ahead. You’ll what?”

He makes up his mind. “I’ll only serve you green Jell-O for the rest of our lives.”

Now that’s just cruel.