Page 15 of Heal Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #5)

As soon as she slipped from the room, Caius’ black gaze fell on me, and I fought the urge to squirm.

“Did you know that it has rained more in the last ten weeks than it has in the last hundred years?” Caius asked, steepling his fingers as he practically stared into my soul. “And it’s been reported that the lightning strikes on the grounds have jumped so much, people are afraid to go outside.”

So I had been a little emotional. Was that a crime?

“I also know what happened during Februlune .”

If I could have melted into the floor, I would have.

“It’s fine. I locked myself up?—”

Caius emitted the deadliest growl, one that had even me straightening in my seat. “No, you had Legion lock you up because I was occupied, and he was the only one strong enough to do it. You suffered for days because you were proving a point to yourself. How do you think that will end?”

Struggling to swallow, I remembered the agony of the last double new moon—or “ Februlune ,” as we called it—and the shame of asking one of my oldest friends to lock me away, the mindlessness as I threw myself against the walls of my cell, trying to get back to the portal.

In Tartarus, Februlune was basically a holiday and for good reason.

With a world filled with shadow shifters, nearly all of us went into heat on the new moon once our mate was found.

When you had two new moons at the same time?

It was days of hedonistic sex and pleasure, mating and bed play.

But only for those with mates, and only for those who didn’t mind tying their lives to someone forever.

Thousands of years I’d managed to go unscathed.

Thousands of years not feeling that searing ache that would not go away.

Thousands of years, and it was all ruined as soon as I met that steely-blue gaze.

“I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?” It was a shitty comeback, but it was all I could come up with.

“You are holding yourself together with twine and obstinance, and even that is fraying. I know what you went through bef?—”

That carefully culled rage I’d been banking flared to life. “No, you don’t,” I hissed, sparks from my fingers showering to the stone floor. “Even after all this time, you still only know the sanitized version. And even if I gave you every detail, you would still not understand.”

He couldn’t possibly.

Something like pity flashed across Caius’ expression before he hid it away. And that’s why I never spoke about my past—not ever. The last thing I needed was Caius’ pity.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I let my gaze trail to the window, the whole of Tartarus beyond.

“If I go back, it won’t be for him. It will be for me.

To get my revenge, to take back what was stolen, to…

” My voice left me, as reality crashed in.

What was stolen could never be returned to me.

The only thing I had to look forward to was revenge, and even that was a long shot.

“It can’t be for him.”

Because going back to find him would require me to trust, to drop my guard, to open myself up like a monigra pod, exposing the pale flesh below. I didn’t know how to do that, and the last time I’d tried, I’d lost everything.

And then there was the rest of it. Why had he been bloody? Who was he? Why had he been there? How could I be sure he was a good man? How could I be sure he wouldn’t use me for power, wouldn’t enslave me?

“Why can’t it be both? Why can’t you go back for you and for him?”

I didn’t have an answer—not a good one, anyway. “How can you so blindly believe that Fate would be kind to me?”

She’d never been before.

“If Fate can smile upon the darkest of souls, she can smile upon you, too,” he murmured, halting the very breath in my lungs.

There was no argument for that, no retort. Just acceptance.

“Fine,” I hissed, crossing my arms over my chest as rain lashed the window. “But when this all goes to shit, I reserve the right to tell you I told you so.”

What I didn’t tell him was that I would avoid my ma— him —like he was the plague and pray we didn’t cross paths again.

“I would expect nothing less.”

Pausing just outside the portal, I surveyed the swirling vortex and the world beyond from the shadows. I’d been there for an hour, watching, waiting, trying to gather the courage to take the first step.

“And how did I know I’d find you here?” Reagan whispered, her tone soft, caring.

I fucking hated it.

The best she got was a grunt, but even that got me a smile. Dammit . I’d grown to like her in the past few weeks, and a part of me even trusted her. Just a little.

She’d grown on me.

Like a fungus.

“I know?—”

“Nothing,” I growled, cutting her off. “You know nothing. You don’t know how I feel, you don’t know what’s going on inside my head. You don’t, okay?” I swallowed, trying to stuff that rage I kept carefully honed back inside its cage. “We are not the same, Reagan.”

She was born to protect. I was born to destroy. She was tied to Caius—I was tied to no one. She had fallen in love, and I didn’t know what that was. She had a loving family, and I…

“I can’t put myself in your shoes, but I can say that I have been tied to someone I didn’t choose. Someone I thought was worse than the devil himself. I don’t regret it now, but then? It felt like I was dying a little every day.”

Her words were meant to be a balm, but they just made it worse. Because in that scenario, I was the devil, wasn’t I?

“We might not be in the same boat, but it’s the same ocean at least. So at the risk of sounding like a know-it-all child to you, can I give you some advice?”

Unwaveringly kind, she’d give that advice whether I wanted it or not, so I simply shrugged.

“Keep an open mind. I wasted a lot of time here fighting the bond, fighting Caius, just fighting . Sometimes Fate has better plans for us, yes?”

I didn’t know about that, but Reagan had wanted to be helpful, and so the least I could do was let her believe she had.

“I will.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “No, you won’t. You’ll fight Fate at every turn until you can’t anymore. But when you finally find what you’re looking for and the dust settles, just let yourself be happy, okay? You deserve it.”

I didn’t know about that either, so I said nothing. Reagan bumped my shoulder with her own before turning to leave me to gather my courage in peace.

And when I finally crossed that barrier, I promised myself three things.

I would never accept my mate. No poor soul deserved to get saddled with a killer with no remorse.

Somehow, some way, I’d get rid of the power that had poisoned me every single day for five thousand years.

And last? My family deserved to be avenged. If there was a way to punish the gods who banished me, I would do it. I would end them—even if I had to die to do it.

Because Reagan had been wrong.

I hadn’t earned my happiness.

And I never would.