Page 44 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

43

BAELFIRE

Well, I’ll be damned. Turns out, cultists know how to throw a party.

I take in the shindig as Silas, Everett, and I step through the protective wards into the massive clearing in Everbound Forest where the ruins of an old castle used to sit. Dead trees have been cleared to make room for this event.

Multiple tables have been laid out with meat skewers, wine glasses, and bottles of red wine. Several miniature bonfires line this place, illuminating it as the sun sets and providing extra warmth despite the snowless, Spring-like weather.

Most of the cultists here are still wearing black like they’re in mourning, but they’re a much less morose group than they were yesterday. They chow down on the feast and dance to instrumental music being played through some kind of magic charm.

Several dozen Reformists are here in combat attire, toasting each other, drinking wine, and waiting to officially meet my keeper. Some Nether humans are in attendance, too, but they’re a lot more mellow and quiet where they stick to the corners and observe like they’re not sure what to do at a celebration.

Cultists also know how to build a temple in record time.

I examine the new construction in one corner. It’s a small temple partially constructed from the old ruins. It looks more like a cathedral than a temple and reminds me of Syntyche’s ruined temple that my dragon randomly dragged me to before my dragon tracked down Maven.

Gothic architecture. Kind of sinister. Covered in dozens of ominous ravens perched near the steeples as they stare out with beady eyes like the creepy little fuckers are warning everyone away.

“Maven’s gonna love that,” I grin.

Everett nods, but he’s repeatedly adjusting his sharp suit coat as his nerves get to him in the absence of our keeper. All three of us are wearing suits, but I skipped the coat because it’s already plenty warm for a dragon shifter like me.

Silas is frowning at the wards we just passed through. “Whoever put up those wards, they’re a fucking joke. I doubt they’ll keep out mosquitoes, let alone the nefarious creatures that may be lurking in these woods. I’ll have to reinforce them before?—”

“Uncle Baelfire!” Quinn’s voice calls.

I break into a smile when I see my niece racing toward me, dragging Lillian along behind her. The little water elemental is wearing a blue dress with white bows in her hair as she beams at us. She looks a lot like my brother Grady’s quintet members, her birth parents. My mom mentioned that Grady and Aidan were dealing with an urgent outbreak of ghouls near some pretty severe Limbo Zones somewhere in eastern Canada, or else they would’ve come here to see me, too.

“Nice dress, Quinn,” I greet, glancing at Lillian, who’s laughing at my niece’s antics. “Looks like you found a friend.”

“Yeah! She’s super nice and she read me books all day in the library today, and her name is Lilly,” Quinn incorrectly introduces. She looks at Lillian and points at Everett. “His hair’s white and his scar is sexy.”

Silas and I burst into laughter at the look on Lillian’s face, which is almost as good as the completely appalled expression the scarred ice elemental is wearing.

“It’s—that’s not—” Everett sputters before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Godsdamn it, Baelfire, your family needs some filters.”

“She learned it from our keeper, not them,” I laugh before squatting to smile at Quinn. “Where’s your grandma?”

She shrugs, scrubbing at her cheek like it itches. “I dunno. I took Lilly and knocked on the door of the room in the big castle where Grandma’s staying to tell her the party was starting, and Grandma said through the door that they’re busy and they’ll be here later.”

I frown. My mom isn’t the type to blow off anything.

I’m concerned until Lillian clears her throat, seeming embarrassed. “Your parents were preoccupied.”

But still, it’s not like them to?—

Oh. She means preoccupied .

I gag at the same time Silas and Everett pull faces. None of us needed to know that little tidbit.

If you think that’s off-putting, don’t check behind the temple, Crypt suggests through the bond just as I can vaguely sense him somewhere nearby. Not unless you want to see the three-eyed acolyte shagging the Carter girl. I, unfortunately, will never have the ability to unsee all three of his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Yuck. Why’d you have to provide that detail? I grimace.

It will haunt your dreams tonight. You’re welcome.

Everett frowns. Why the hell are you here instead of keeping an eye out in the castle to let us know when Maven is coming, like I told you to?

Did you? I must’ve tuned that out along with most everything else you say.

Crypt— Everett starts, frustrated.

“He’s not going to just prance around here ignoring Maven,” Silas points out. “Flighty as he is, we can always count on the fact that he’s as hopelessly transfixed by her as we are. He’ll go back.”

Obviously, Crypt agrees through the bond. I had to scout this celebration to see if the cultists had something untoward planned for our keeper. I dislike it when others are almost as obsessed with her as I am.

Get used to it, because we’re right there with you, I point out.

He makes no other reply, leaving us to focus on Quinn excitedly pointing out the small bonfires to Lillian. Quinn sees a cultist set grapes down on one of the feast tables and quickly drags Lillian there next. The blue-eyed human smiles and waves goodbye at us, clearly happy to spend time with the little water elemental.

The celebration is hitting its stride as we end up wandering to one of the feast tables. I try one of the meat skewers as I ignore anyone who waves at me. I’m sure plenty of people are surprised to see me back and eager to chat, but my inner dragon and I are just getting petulant the longer we go without being around Maven.

Silas and Everett look just as pouty as Silas samples the wine. When Asher Douglas shows up with a few other ex-bounty hunters, Everett tells them to quickly scout the area before joining the celebration. Douglas reassures Everett that his pet hellhound, along with a few other hellhounds belonging to the other hunters, are hanging out in these woods, so there should be no problem.

Once we’re left alone again, I try reaching out to Maven through the bond again. She still has us closed off.

So fucking stubborn.

I get that she needs space and time to talk to her friend, but godsdamn it—can’t she just chat with Kenzie while I hold my mate in my lap and never let her go?

Fucking gods above , Crypt’s voice rasps through the bond.

What? Everett demands.

The incubus doesn’t respond, but a few minutes later, I sense him nearby again. It’s pretty damn nice to not have the ever-living shit scared out of me anymore when Crypt appears.

So when the Nightmare Prince steps out of Limbo beside the meat-skewer-and-wine table we’re standing beside, I’m not surprised to see him.

But I am surprised to see how flustered he is. Like the rest of us, he’s in some variation of a suit. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the incubus even remotely dressed up, but he quickly loosens and flings off his tie before rolling up his suit sleeves like he’s overheated.

“What’s wrong? More importantly, is Maven headed this way yet?” Everett demands impatiently.

Crypt huffs and grabs one of the many glasses, pouring wine and downing it all in one go before he scowls. “This celebration will have to be rescheduled.”

“Why?” I frown.

“Because our perfect, merciless keeper is just begging for us to fuck her into insanity for the next week straight,” Crypt rasps, scowling again when his markings light up a couple of times. “You’ve been forewarned.”

When he downs another cup of wine, Silas snorts. “Really? I can’t wait to see what you mea?—”

The fae’s voice cuts off on a choke, and I realize his attention has snagged on something at the edge of the clearing. And when I glance over to where he’s looking?—

Oh.

Holy. Fucking. Gods.

That dress. That woman .

And I thought I was feral before.

Crypt is right. There’s no fucking way we can let her out of bed if she’s showing up in public like…like…

“Oh, fuck me,” Silas whispers, subtly adjusting himself as Maven steps into the cultist party.

Vaguely, I’m aware of the cultists cheering at her arrival, along with several other Reformist attendees clapping and gazing at her in awe. Kenzie is somewhere near my keeper, talking to her, but all I can focus on is Maven.

She’s wearing white. A pure white dress with a slit in the skirt that goes nearly to her hip. Every time she takes a step, I get a mouthwatering glimpse of her toned leg and a pair of simple flats.

But the real kicker is the gown’s plunging neckline. It’s so low-cut that it dips almost to her belly button, boldly and intentionally displaying the scar down the center of her chest…and all four of our quintet emblems.

She’s showing off her killer body and our claim to her all at once.

“She’s—” Everett has to stop and try speaking again, his voice is so hoarse as he shakily turns and pours his own cup of wine. “She’s not even wearing a godsdamned bra . That dress should be fucking illegal, showing off her nipples like that—and with all these people staring at her,” he groans.

Silas loosens his own tie as he speaks in fae, his voice thick. “Vitiosus minxe.”

I nod in a haze like I understood that, but I’m also pretty sure I’m on the verge of openly panting. Not like I can help it. I’ve never seen Maven in white before, but in contrast to her warm olive-toned skin and black hair, she’s striking as hell. I want to rip that dress off my mate, pin her to the ground, and fuck her right on the forest ground to punish her for looking so damn good.

When Maven looks over and sees how much she’s torturing us, her lips curve up.

“Gods above, that’s it,” Crypt grits, more worked up as he shoves off his suit coat, his hungry gaze following her as she walks toward us. “I’ll take her back to the quintet apartment through Limbo. The rest of you wankers can either meet us there or go fuck yourselves—I really don’t care.”

Maven must overhear the end of his frustration as she approaches, because she responds through the quintet bond. Whatever she says, it goes right over my head because I’m way too distracted watching the sway of her sexy, biteable hips as she walks. The silky white fabric clings to her, showing off her graceful movements so well that it’s hard to swallow.

“Of course, we know you want to stay,” Silas growls in reply to whatever she said, moving closer to toy with the ends of Maven’s curled hair. “You enjoy torturing us like this. It’s too cruel, sangfluir . Even your small army of ghosts agrees with me.”

He gestures at nothing off to the side of the clearing. If I didn’t know Maven could see the spirits too, I’d assume Silas was sinking back into insanity.

Our keeper grins. “Thirty minutes, and we’ll leave.”

“Five,” Everett snaps, his eyes trailing over her again. “That’s more than enough time for people here to gawk at you. They’re lucky I don’t freeze them all here in nevermelt as an eternal reminder that no one outside our quintet should see you looking so—so?—”

When he can’t find the right words, he swears and drinks the rest of his wine.

“Fifteen minutes,” Maven decides, grinning when Crypt can’t stop himself from reaching out to trace his emblem on the center of her chest.

“Very well,” the incubus says in a much softer, far more dangerous tone than his recently flustered one. He smiles darkly at her. “Enjoy those fifteen minutes, darling. Because after that, you’ll be weeping with arousal and pleading for mercy as four monsters wring every single ounce of pleasure from your teasing little cunt for as long as we like.”

Yes to everything he just said.

Our keeper grins and leans closer to stage-whisper beside his ear, just loud enough that we can all hear her. “Promise?”

He swears. Silas mutters something in fae. I’m pretty sure Everett is now seriously considering freezing everyone here just so we can get our keeper alone sooner.

“Fourteen fucking minutes left, Raincloud,” I warn her, having to turn away from everyone else in the celebration so they won’t see the raging hard-on torturing me.

“Maven Oakley!” someone calls.

It’s Orlando Coates, the cult leader. He quickly hurries to Maven before dropping to his knees in a low bow.

“Our demigoddess, you came!”

No, but she will be coming, I scowl through the bond. Again and again, thanks to me.

Silas hums. Just two orgasms? Or was that three? Either way, I’ll give her far more.

Just not as many as I will, Everett chips in, beginning to pace with impatient arousal.

Another bet, then, Crypt suggests as his eyes remain pinned on our keeper. This one has no deadline or prize aside from proving who can worship our girl the best.

I’m in , I say almost at the same time as the others.

Despite our telepathic thirsting over her, Maven’s face stays perfectly blank as the cult leader beams at her.

“So many of our guests here tonight are just dying to meet you,” Coates says.

“Literally?” she checks, looking around for another giant wooden stake.

He laughs like that’s a funny joke and not a reminder of the extreme lengths he was ready to go to just to see her. “No, no—they merely wish to be graced with the honor of meeting you individually.”

Fuck, no, Everett says immediately, glaring out over the sea of people here. That will take longer than the twelve minutes and forty-two seconds you have left, and I need to be in you now.

Maven smirks and waves coyly at the ice elemental before following the cult leader to the first group of people he wants to introduce her to. Crypt follows her, and Silas is right behind him.

“She’s so fucking mean,” I sigh.

Everett agrees, grumbling, “It’s annoying how damn sexy that is.”

I nod and then examine him. “So what, you’re a masochist and a voyeur?”

“You know, I didn’t freeze Silas because I worried what it might do to his brain in the long run.” He looks me over. “You? Wouldn’t even hesitate. Hell, you might even come out smarter. Maybe then you’d mind some boundaries.”

Dick.

Our attention is drawn away when Coates guides Maven back to the table full of food.

“Please, eat,” he invites with excitement. “We made these meat sticks just for you.”

“Thanks, but no,” she mutters, eyeing the sauce-drenched meat.

“The only meat stick she likes is mine,” I inform him seriously.

Everett chokes. Maven barely holds in a laugh, amusement sparkling in her dark eyes. And seeing her right in front of me again, with all that beautiful bare skin and her scent and my biting mark and emblem so proudly on display…

Damn it. I’m hard again.

How much longer until we can pounce on Maven? I ask only Everett.

Can’t remember. Whatever it is, it’s too fucking long, he scowls through the bond.

I’m not sure if he even knows how hard he’s checking her out, but it’s not like I’m any better.

Nearby, I hear a raven croak and realize a few of the glossy black birds have fluttered over here from the temple to carefully watch over the daughter of the reaper goddess. I’ve always thought ravens were ominous little featherballs, but knowing that Maven can influence them makes me wonder if they’re here because she called them or if they’re just…here.

Six minutes, Crypt warns Maven.

I don’t see him anywhere in the party when I do a quick scan, so he must be in Limbo. Silas is standing on the opposite side of the party now, drinking another cup of wine as he watches Orlando Coates lead Maven back to the center of the party.

I’m just as transfixed by my mate’s every move until Coates calls out, “And now, we will present the goddess with her gift! As in times of old, we hereby gift this temple to the demigoddess in our midst. Daughter of the Reaper, please enter and inspect the temple we have built and dedicated in your honor. We shall not leave this place, nor shall we stop feasting and celebrating your presence in this world until you tell us we have won your favor!”

I’m not sure if he’s pulling all of this out of his ass or if he really did study a shit-ton of history books about how past demigods and demigoddesses were treated. Either way, everyone claps and whistles. Even the shy Nether humans look happy for her.

Maven thanks Coates and turns to saunter toward the temple, but her beckoning voice echoes through the quintet bond to the rest of us.

Well? Come on. This temple isn’t going to defile itself.