Page 45

forty-five

Dove

W ith his left hand facing the ceiling like he is holding a precious fruit and his right hand stroking the air above his dark eyes, Fury inspects the thin thread weaving out of me. “Hmm, maybe some of her finest work.”

His hands spin, and I’m hypnotised as he performs magic before my very eyes. Between his hands, my thread turns into a rope, thick and bright, shimmering golden in its sparkling beats.

Gasping, my hands go to my heart. I realize the bond Fury is exposing is everything I’ve ever wanted—a connection to someone so infinite and unconditional that it can never be broken. Even death could not break us. Yes, this thread is another thing thrust upon me, but maybe this could be something good, not bad.

My hands fly out of their own accord and contact the daemon in front of me. “Stop it,” I say, now feeling protective over this precious thread before me. As the words fly out of me, all my air trails from my lungs, leaving me breathless as Fury grabs my hands and pins me with his hard body against the chilled wall behind us.

“You want to be locked behind another cage, pet?” he harshly whispers in my ear. “I see you. I see your fears. I see your anger. Your fucking rage. And your sadness. I see it all. All I’ve ever offered you is your freedom, Aurora.”

The name buckles me, and without Fury holding me up, I would be sprawled on the floor. Behind the darkness enclosing me, I can hear a growling, but it does not hold my attention as long as that name floats through me, zapping me awake. The name that has not been spoken in fourteen rotations.

“Aurora, my pet.” His clawed fingers come up to trace my cheek, and I clench my jaw tight at his nearness. “Open your eyes.” And I realise I have my eyelids firmly shut.

Aurora. Auroooooraaaaa. Her voice… It calls to me, threatening to open old wounds.

“Open your eyes, pet.” He uses such a quietly disarming tone that my eyes pop open, a tear slipping free. “I see you.” His blackened nail tip swipes up the tear and places it on his pointed tongue, swallowing hard.

I find it hard to take my eyes away from his dark, smirking lips as he takes in my essence, something oldy sensual about the act. He places a sharp, pointed nail under my chin, urging me to look deep into the endless lakes of shining obsidian. “Bewitching,” the word falls from his lips. However, it could’ve fallen from mine if I could catch a breath.

“Help me, my pet, and I will give her back to you.”

My mind, my body and my soul do not need to think twice, knowing her instantly. “How?”

His pointed tips travel down my neck, leaving prickled skin, not stopping his descent. The bond pains at this male, who is not its owner, and I squirm at the discomfort. Fury’s hands are now on my chest, travelling down to my navel and pressing on my womb. Alarm bells fire, but I repeat my simple phrase, “How?”

“She is already within you, waiting,” he pushes firmly, and my body reacts in ways I choose to ignore. His touch is strong but surprisingly gentle.

If my body could sink into the wall behind me, it would. Fury’s hand on my lower stomach, his strange words, his promise to bring her back. It is too much. My psyche cannot connect what he is saying, or is he just being deliberately devious?

“I don’t understand.”

“Help me off this island, and I promise, she is yours.” Life is not this simple. This must be a trick.

Gripping my dishevelled tunic, I clench my eyes closed.

A war wages inside me. If I let this daemon free, he could go on a killing spree. He hasn’t killed me yet, but he wants something from me. I cannot live with the thought of other people’s lives in my hands. He said he wanted revenge. What it boils down to is trust. Trust is not a part of this equation, so I have only one answer for him. I refuse to be put in a position where my power could be lost again.

Shaking my head, I softly speak. “No.”

He does not anger or rage. Instead, Fury pushes my head up, bringing us forehead to forehead. “I am giving you the choice, Dove. If you don’t pick correctly, I’ll choose for you.”

Argus rears his head and blows—a bellow, a shriek of steam and fire that reaches every inch of my awareness, warming all the parts of my soul, and I shove with all my might at the monster covering me. Why does every male have to exhibit their force in such a way? It is infuriating. So infuriating, I smoulder.

“Then you have given me no choice at all, and I am nothing but a puppet.” That’s all I’ve ever been to the people around me: a servant to be controlled. But I have had it. I will not be controlled anymore.

I vibrate with a ferocity I never knew existed within me as Fury cocks his head to the side, a small smile never leaving his lips. “Maybe I underestimated you, pet.”

“ Most people do ,” I want to say, but I no longer want to waste a breath on the daemon in front of me. He is cruel. I can see it in the pleasure he takes from my torment with his smug smile and glittering eyes.

I suppose being stuck on this island for centuries would send anyone crazy.

“I’ll give you the night to sleep on it. My freedom for your other half.” Without giving me the chance to ask another question, he spins around and strides towards the door, his long silver hair whipping out behind him. His wings are placed firmly against his back, not giving one ruffle.

Finally, I see Gideon. A statue. His eyes dart from me to Fury, his body strung tight, facing my direction.

“Come now, Gideon, we must let our guest rest.” On Fury’s command, Gideon’s whole body loosens and he follows behind him, not paying me a second glance. Strange.

Once alone, I curse the hand I have been dealt. “What would you have me do, Goddess?” I throw my hands up in the air, beginning to pace the length of the room from fireplace to bedpost.

What choice do I have? Maybe I can play Fury’s game.

He is right. There is more to me than meets the eye. I have taught myself to read a forgotten language, for Goddess’s sake. I can label every plant and their properties within Haven’s walls by name. I’ve read and memorised the Goddess’s song, resurrecting her magic. I am not lacking. Everyone else can underestimate me, but I will bite them when they least expect it, like the vipers that used to slither undetected through the garden beds of the temple.

I will no longer underestimate myself.

Fury will not know what has bitten him. I am nobody’s puppet.

If the Goddess herself had told me last sunrise that I would be spending the darkness in a stone tower at the centre of an island cast in ash and ground bones, I would have laughed in her face. Not a nice, gentle laugh, either. No, a full cackle. A wheezing, breathless show at the absurdity that is my current existence.

I am meant to be seeing my people to Terra, making sure their travels are fruitful. The wisps will guide them and keep them safe like they did Rivern and me, but it is in my nature to worry for these people who have put their faith in me. They had nothing, and when I told them my story, without hesitation, they believed in me. They saw through the king’s deceit, and they believed me . A girl who, once upon a time, barely had the confidence to speak. Who leant into the lies she was once told until an indefinable dark force overcame her and saved her from a continued downfall into the void of her existence.

But that dark force is no longer unknown. He has stood before me within this very bed chamber. Towered over me. Given me an ultimatum. A hurt he cannot let go of. A familiar feeling.

Now, as I lay here, my body floppy on the plush covers of the luxurious feather bed, I remember the daemon from my dreams. The first time he came to me as a child, only five or so, he slipped into my nightmares and offered me comfort after witnessing a particularly harrowing battle of voices and strange sounds between Mother and Father.

Resting my hands on my chest, I can feel my heart move faster and faster. The boom is now a crescendo as, out of the lair of my heart, image after image of a life happily forgotten work their way to the forefront of my mind. The drink, the anger, the fists, the bruises, the apologies. It all flies past my weary dragon, too spent to even lift her head.

Squeezing my eyes tight, a potent strength within my mind urges me to step further into the cave Argus continues to guard with his life. Snuffling at my hand, he tries his best to urge me back, but I can see him . Fury. His arms outstretched. Those pitch-black horns and glinting, starry eyes. Raven-feathered wings extend outwards, blocking the tunnel beyond. His mouth moves, but I can hear no sound.

The crazy thing is that I no longer feel anger at him in this waking dream state. Instead, the booming within my chest evens out, and my hand latches onto his.

He pulls me in tight within his embrace, bringing his wings around my body. Rumbling silky on a breeze, the words float to me, simple and protective, “I’m here. Don’t look, pet.”

Except they don’t sound like they are coming from inside my head.

My eyes spring open, and I shoot upwards, looking around the room with a wide stare. I could’ve sworn I heard him speak right next to me. Not from a memory but within this room.

As I look around the space, no disturbances can be found, and I drop back down into the comfort of the layered fur bed.

I awake to the sound of soft but brusque voices being harshly exchanged.

“I am your master, and you will do as I say, Gideon.”

“You haven’t been my master in a long time, Orion.” The last word is said with such venom that a shiver takes hold of my bones. Who is Orion?

Opening my eyes, I gingerly take stock of the world around me and find two very similar pairs of black, almost glassy eyes staring back at me.

“You slept well?” Surprisingly, this question comes from Fury, and my brow furrows.

“You care?” I am quick to remark.

“I care for all the creatures who live within my rule.” He steps closer, this time with more ease and precaution than last night as if I am a scared rabbit on the verge of fleeing out the nearest window.

Sitting up, finding myself on top of the covers, I notice the state of my clothes. My last change of clothes has not been since Haven. I am a mess with my dirt-stained ripped tunic and breeches. I stink with turns of sweat and travel, but sleep won out when my head hit the cloud-like comfort after Fury and Gideon left during the moonlight.

Fury seems to understand my train of thought as I try to smooth the dirt around my pants. “Here,” he says, picking up a silken, black piece of material.

Looking at the shiny material draped over his clawed-tipped hands, my mouth hangs open. Seeing as I am not about to reply anytime soon, Fury continues, “It’s a dress.” He holds up the material, and I see the shape of a floor-length dress come into view.

“I… I can’t wear that.” My judgements are out of my mouth within an instant of seeing the thinness of material and dip within the bust.

“I see no other options, and your current attire is barely fitting as an emissary to a God.”

Nearly choking on the air in my lungs, I ask, “What?”

“Gideon and I have come up with a plan,” he says, completely bypassing the word “ God ”. What God? My eyes dart over to the stoic-looking wolf, and my eyebrows raise. His expression is unchanged. I am happy to note, though, that he is now finally wearing clothes in the darkest of black, his hair is pulled off his face—well, mostly off his face, as a dark curled lock reaches for the corner of his scarred eye. Even his beard seems to be shorter.

“Come get out of those horrendous clothes.” Fury starts to reach for me, and I inch back.

“I said I can’t wear that, no matter your plan,” I hiss at him. The burn within is rearing its head, and it’s out for blood. I don’t know what is going on, but just seeing Fury in the flesh makes me want to bite.

That same menacing smile from before graces his soot-black lips. “If you need me mean, pet, I can be that, and so much more. You will wear the dress. No is not an option.” Velvet power drips from his fangs, which are now on show.

The sight of his fangs and his voice do something to me that makes my fire rage. Yes, yes, yes…

I huff, bringing my arms across my chest. “Fine. Only because I want out of these clothes.”

I want to obey, but I also want to fight. It is a weird and heady combination. After my strange dream last night, remembering some of the times Fury visited previously, confusion is a very real and strange medicine, taking hold of my wits around this daemon.