Page 51 of Maneater

“Your discipline isn’t there yet. Mortal prayers will pull you under if you reach for them too soon,” Raithe cautioned quietly.

This morning, we had woken in each other’s arms, my back resting against his chest as we’d slept beneath the moonlight.

At sunrise, I’d tried to slip from his hold, embarrassment and shame rising within me.

But he clung to me, unwilling to release me, as though if I left, I’d disappear.

He only agreed to when I reminded him I was barely clothed, wrapped in nothing but a thin shift.

I didn’t want to think about how he’d found me.

Soaked, shivering, and dripping from the stream.

“How else could I learn, then?” I managed, my voice weary, my strength sapped from everything that had happened the day before.

“You’ll need to practice, but you won’t do it alone,” Raithe said, his tone final.

“The next time you attempt to bargain with mortals, I’ll be there.

Most demigods come to Torhiel when they’re still young, and they spend years learning to harness their power.

But you never came. You never learned. So now, your divinity is completely untamed.

Wrath is already a volatile force, Odessa.

Learning to wield it will be harder still. It won’t be easy.”

“I understand,” I said, though the words felt distant, like an echo struggling to reach the surface.

I was still shaken from what happened yesterday.

The power, this Wrath inside me, was more dangerous than I ever imagined.

The thought of carrying the weight of mortal Wrath again was daunting, enough to make me hesitate.

Raithe’s song had silenced it once, but I didn’t know when it would rise again. I couldn’t depend on him forever.

“I want to learn,” the words slipped out, more inward than aloud.

“My entire life, I’ve done everything on my own.

I was willful, strong. All driven by a belief in myself.

But somewhere along the way, that belief faded.

What remained was stubbornness, and a numb determination that carried me forward.

I could still do what needed to be done, but now it always costs something.

I’m tired. And this new life… Even as a god, I feel so fragile. ”

I wasn’t sure what made me say it, but the words came out before I could stop them. “I hate who I am, Raithe.”

His expression didn’t change. He just watched me, letting the confession settle in the silence between us.

“You’re wrong,” he said flatly.

I blinked, unprepared. “What?”

“You’re not fragile,” he stated. “You are many things, Odessa. But not that.”

I let out a scoff, more bitter than amused. “Don’t let your heart sway your head.”

Hearing that, something shifted in him. He sat up straighter, and the calmness I’d seen in him before vanished.

His features sharpened into something colder, something harder.

Disappointment flickered in his eyes, along with something close to disdain.

The air around him chilled, and he looked every bit the demigod of Vengeance .

“Get up,” he ordered, a flick of his wrist dismissing whatever softness had been between us.

The Wrath inside me stirred at his tone, at the weight of his judgment. Something primal and defiant flared in response.

“You don’t get to decide who I am.” I stood, anger in my voice. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, Raithe. You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

He didn’t flinch. He just stared, his disapproval weighing heavier than any words. Then he stood up too, his eyes locked on mine, rising until he towered above me.

“Stare down at me all you want,” I said through clenched teeth. “You’ve no right to judge me”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I will show you who you are. You are not fragile. You are not weak. You are a daughter of Wrath and it’s time you act like it.”

Before I could respond, he reached for me, pulling me into him.

“Hey!” I snapped, trying to pull away.

But Raithe was stronger by far, demigod or not, he was built from something heavier, more solid. My body collided with his, chest to chest, and he brought his forehead to mine. One hand slid firmly at the back of my neck, grounding me.

Then I felt it.

The moment our skin touched, something sparked, something deeper than magic, older than time, and the connection between us flared to life.

My eyes fluttered shut as his power surged into me, not just touching, but flooding through every corner of my mind.

I felt his Vengeance, wild and raging, and my Wrath rose to meet it instinctively, the two forces weaving together in perfect, volatile harmony.

And then, I heard them.

The voices of Vengeance.

The voices came like a storm. Spiraling, rising, crashing into one another with a chaos that felt endless.

They screamed and wept, colliding in a burst of anger, grief, and need, but Raithe held them back.

He remained solid as stone as the voices tore around him, each one vying for his attention, demanding to be heard, waiting for his command.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t falter. Even as they battered the edges of his mind, seeping into every crack and crevice, he simply closed his eyes, breathed in slowly, and let the noise wash over him. His expression settled into quiet concentration, and with each breath, the storm began to shift.

One breath. Then another. And then, silence.

When his eyes opened again, the whirlwind had ceased, and only a single voice remained, louder than the others, steadier, more complete.

It rose out of the stillness, drifting forward until it stood before him like a truth taking shape.

Raithe tilted his head slightly, eyes slipping closed once more as he listened, not with his ears, but with something deeper.

His fingers curled gently around mine, steady and sure, a silent urging to listen with him.

So I did. And when I opened my eyes again, we were back in the mortal realm.

Shadows surrounded us, and Raithe’s eyes glowed a sharp yellow, cutting clean through the dark. His presence was dangerous, yet, I could feel that same force radiating from me. This place had once been home, but now it felt distant, unfamiliar in a way that left me feeling estranged.

Divinity carried with it a quiet pride, something close to conceit. And as I looked around, the world felt dim. The mortal realm had lost its shine. It didn’t shimmer like Torhiel. The air lacked its sweetness, and the colors that were once vivid now seemed washed-out and lifeless.

“Odessa.” Raithe reached for me. “My light.” His company steadied me, a familiar weight in an unfamiliar world. “Shall we answer their prayer?”

I was dressed in shadow, the night sky drawn across my skin.

With every step, the darkness shifted, responding to me like it knew my shape.

It clung to me as armor would. And with it, I felt unshaken.

I felt bold. I moved forward without hesitation, and Raithe followed, wrapped in a shadow of his own close behind.

We entered a city, and though it stood tall around us, it was quiet.

Most of its folk slept, only a few wandered the streets, aimless and alone.

But one soul stood out, calling to us like a beacon.

Their mortality was laid bare and utterly unmistakable.

I didn’t need Raithe’s guidance to know this was the mortal who had called him.

Moving through the streets felt strange. We weren’t quite walking, yet we weren’t drifting either. It was something in between, as if we followed the ground’s path but were carried by shadows, gliding weightlessly from one place to the next.

The mortal’s prayers grew louder as we drew near, almost overwhelming. Yet my Wrath was drawn to it, captivated by the raw desperation and despair. There was something hauntingly appealing about the surrendering in this soul, the way defeat left them no choice but to bargain with a devil.

At last, we rounded a corner onto a street, as cold as it was empty, narrowing into an alley.

After I stepped inside it, I stopped abruptly.

There was a mortal knelt on the cobblestones, hands tightly clasped in prayer.

When I saw her, shock pierced me. This mortal was a woman, far thinner than any human should be.

Her hair was dull and coarse, like straw, and dirt stained her worn shift.

Tears tracked down her face, and bruises marred the skin left exposed. My Wrath surged, burning at the sight.

Raithe held out his hand, stopping me before I could move forward.

His eyes held a silent command for me to be patient, to wait.

I stayed rooted in place, letting him take the lead.

He slipped forward through the shadows, drawing closer to the kneeling woman.

As he moved, parts of his shadow peeled away, dissolving into mist, and his face slowly came into view.

The woman sniffled, brushing a tear-streaked cheek, then froze as her eyes met Raithe’s piercing stare. A gasp broke from her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

After a moment, she lowered it slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “D-devil.”

“Yes.” Raithe’s tone was grave. “And I’ve come to answer your plea.”

His voice sounded different. There was something darker in it, something colder and cruel.

The woman recoiled, her body trembling as she took in the sight of him. Though shadows still clung to Raithe’s form, his figure had mostly emerged from the dark.

“Please... please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, then began to pray. “Gods, have mercy on me, please.”

Raithe smiled, all teeth. “The gods heard your plea and chose silence. But I’ve answered,” he stated. “Was it not you who called out to Vengeance? I’ve heard your cries and I’ve come to offer a bargain.”

At the word, something in her shifted. A flicker of strength returned. She straightened a little, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “I... I did.” Her focus locked onto him. “You’ve come to offer me a bargain?”

Raithe stepped forward, just a pace, and this time she didn’t recoil.

“Yes, a bargain,” he said, tilting his head as he studied her. “You’ve shown me your suffering, your anger, the weight of betrayal. But more telling than any of that, you showed me your desire for retribution. For Vengeance. And I can help you claim it.”

“Truly?” she said, breath hitching.

Raithe’s charming smile appeared. “For a price. I’ll give you Vengeance, but what will you offer me in return?”

“I don’t have much,” the woman stammered, her voice thick with desperation. “But whatever I have... it’s yours.”

“Anything?” Raithe asked, tone curious.

“Anything,” she repeated.

Raithe looked at her for a moment. “There’s something more in you,” he noted. “Something deeper. Something bitter and burning.” He lifted a finger to his chin. “Yours wasn’t a cry for Vengeance alone. You called for Wrath as well.”

“I’m angry,” the woman stated, voice clear. “Angrier than I’ve ever been.”

“Good.” Raithe nodded approvingly, then turned to me. “Come, my light.”

I hesitated, then moved toward Raithe and the mortal woman.

With each step, Wrath stirred beneath my skin. Shadows gathered, flowing around me, wrapping me in a gown spun from the night itself.

The woman’s eyes met mine, and something in her wavered. Her breath caught, and she swallowed hard, taking in the sight of me. But her eyes did not turn away.

“She has heard your cries as well,” Raithe coaxed, leaning in toward the woman’s ear. “And for another price, she can grant you Wrath.”

“Tell me what I have to give,” the woman whispered.

“Ah,” Raithe murmured, almost tenderly. “I’ve seen what you want, hidden deep in the darkest corners of your soul.

But for what you ask, there’s only one price worth taking.

” Glancing at her, a flicker of pity lit in his eyes.

“Death always demands the highest cost. It can be done. The question is, are you prepared to pay the price?”

Raithe produced a blade so thin it was no wider than a blade of grass, its steel and hilt the deepest black.

He swiped it across his palm with such speed that I barely caught the motion.

When he held it out, a single drop of his blood gleamed at the tip.

A tiny silver bead. He offered it to the mortal, his meaning unmistakable.

The woman glanced first at Raithe, then at me. Finally, she gave a slow nod. Taking the blade, she closed her eyes and sliced into her palm, a thin line of blood tracing down her palm.

Raithe’s smile deepened. In that instant, something locked into place. A bond, a tether pulling tight. It thrummed with power, heavier than anything I’d felt as a demigod. A binding bargain between a god and mortal had formed.

“Then death shall be yours,” Raithe vowed with a wicked satisfaction.