Page 29 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

CASTEEL

I stood, leaning against the door with my arms loosely crossed over my chest as I did what I’d been doing for what felt like weeks now.

I watched Poppy.

I watched her sleep, thinking about all the shit that must be going on outside Wayfair’s walls. The battle at the Bone Temple seemed like forever ago, and we’d been in the cell for at least a day. Maybe two. My world had stopped moving, but I knew the realm hadn’t.

I picked up the sound of someone approaching and turned my head to the side.

A moment later, a knock vibrated the length of my back.

Pushing off the door, I turned and opened it.

I knew it wasn’t just Emil who’d returned.

My gaze met eyes belonging to the last person I wanted to see.

Well, maybe not the last person. More like second to last. At the very least, the third to last.

My brother had returned from wherever he’d disappeared to since I last saw him with Millicent.

And he looked like shit.

Malik’s shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a knot at the nape of his neck, all except for the single sandy-brown strand that fell against a cheek that seemed sharper than before.

The bruise on his jaw was gone, but the smudges under his eyes had gotten darker.

It looked like he was getting as much sleep as I was.

“What in the actual fuck?” Malik rasped, his gaze moving from me to the cell door.

Lips pressed into a firm line, I glanced at Emil standing behind Delano.

The white wolven passed me, leaving a trail of blood.

Ears twitching, he kept looking back at the door—the iron door—he’d managed to score.

Three of his claws had broken off. They’d grow back, but my stomach still soured. I lifted my gaze to Emil.

“I couldn’t find Millicent,” he explained, holding up his hands.

“So, you got him ?” I demanded in a low voice.

“Actually, no.” Malik’s posture was as stiff as mine. “I heard he was looking for Millie. I decided to see why.”

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Emil said.

“Much to my annoyance,” Malik added. His gaze flicked to the cell door once more. “I have a lot of questions.”

“And I just need to see Millicent.”

His gaze narrowed on me. “Before you tell me why you’re down here—”

“Wasn’t planning to do that.”

He ignored me. “You’re going to tell me what the fuck is up with your eyes.”

It took me a moment to figure out what he was talking about. My eyes. Of course. He was just now seeing the brighter aura of eather. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you for real right now?”

Crossing my arms, I arched a brow.

“You have strands of eather swirling around your irises, Cas. In case you need a reminder, they weren’t there before.”

“I don’t need a reminder, but thanks. Where is Millicent?”

The taste of his annoyance was prickly and faintly acidic. “Why do you have Poppy down here?”

“What makes you think she’s down here?” I countered as Delano’s gaze darted nervously between us.

“Why would you be here if she’s not?” he challenged.

Fuck. Was the motive behind my presence that obvious?

The answer was yes.

A muscle began ticking in Malik’s temple, just like our father’s did when he was annoyed. He moved closer. “Cas,” he said, his voice low. “Gods. I know things between us are tense…”

“Understatement of the year,” Emil murmured.

Malik shot him a look of warning. “But some shit has clearly gone down, and I’m concerned.”

“There’s no need.”

“And I’m not the only one. So is our father.

” Malik waited for me to respond. When I didn’t, he stiffened even more before stepping back.

His gaze moved to the dimly lit corridor, flickering over the closed iron doors.

The skin at the corners of his mouth tightened before he masked whatever he was feeling, but the tangy, almost bitter taste of anguish coated my mouth.

“Fine. Whatever,” he said. “I have no idea where Millie is.”

My brows raised. “Really?”

Malik’s jaw flexed, and it took a couple of heartbeats for him to answer. “She left.”

I eyed him, frowning. “Then why are you here?”

A dry laugh left him as he looked away, the corners of his mouth tightening more. “The last time I chased after her, she made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want me to do that.”

I had no idea what had gone down between them or why Malik refused to tell Millicent they were heartmates, but I did remember him telling me that she hated him. It wasn’t like that was something I could forget. But now wasn’t the time to figure out the reasons behind that.

The Rev was dead.

Millicent was missing in action.

And Reaver still hadn’t returned.

Fuck.

Without saying another word, Malik turned away—

Fuck. “She’s awake.”

Malik stopped.

I glanced over at Emil and Delano. The latter no longer watched us as nervously. I took another deep breath. “But she doesn’t completely remember who she is.”

My brother spun. “What?”

“It was something Nektas warned us could happen,” I said, my jaw flexing. “I moved her down here so she…” I cleared my throat. “So she wasn’t so close to others.”

Malik stared, appearing as if he were at a loss for what to say. He turned at the waist, then faced me as he brushed the strand of hair back from his face. “Did the draken say how long she would remain this way?”

I shook my head.

He was quiet for a moment. “Damn, I…” Swallowing, he looked down. “I’m sorry, man.”

I tensed. Every part of me wanted to reject his sympathy because it meant there was a reason for it. I managed a curt nod, and Delano rose and came to where I stood. He sat, leaning into my side.

“Why did you want to see Millie?” Malik asked. “You think—?”

We all felt the shift in the atmosphere at the same time. A powerful charge of energy thinned the air, stroking the essence inside me as Delano rose to all fours, his ears flattening.

I spun toward the cell door, and Malik was beside me in the blink of an eye. “You can’t go in there,” I told him.

“And you can?”

“Yes.”

His nostrils flared. “That’s a Primal god who doesn’t recognize—”

“Uh, guys?” Emil interrupted. “I don’t think it’s Poppy. Because there’s a…ball of light.”

Malik’s gaze met mine, and we both turned. In the center of the narrow hall, a small orb of silver eather grew, crackling and spitting thin tendrils of essence.

“What the…?” Malik muttered as the fur along Delano’s back rose.

A guttural snarl erupted from the wolven as he prowled forward, head lowered. Emil’s hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

The realm was opening before us. I just hoped it was whoever Reaver had reached and not someone about to make an enemy of me.

Either way, I had a feeling neither a sword nor a wolven could stand against whatever was about to appear. Not when only two beings had enough eather to open the realm. The Arae, also known as the Fates.

And the oldest of the gods—the Primals.

“Delano,” I called, holding up a hand to Emil. “Stand down.”

The wolven reluctantly stepped back as a wave of tingling energy swept down my right arm. Eather swelled, pressing against my flesh.

The orb of eather lengthened, hissing and popping, and then the realm opened in a burst of silver radiance, filling the air with the scent of burnt ozone.

The flash faded quickly, and where the opening of the realm had been, a male—maybe an inch or two taller than me—stood before us in black leather pants and a tunic.

The strap of a small satchel crossed his broad chest. My gaze quickly swept over the light-brown hair framing a face…

My shoulders jerked as I saw the Primal god’s face. It wasn’t the shallow scar running from his hairline, over the bridge of his nose, and down his left cheek that had me standing there in stunned silence.

It was because of the sandy-brown hair, the strong jawline, and the sculpted mouth. The straight nose and high, angular cheekbones. The arched brows and tall, broad-shouldered, lean-waisted build. Which, all together, was damn near the mirror image of the man standing beside me.

My brother.

“What in the actual fuck?” Malik choked out.

I seconded that statement while glancing between my brother and the Primal god. The Primal looked back at us with precisely the same what-the-fuck expression that had to be plastered on our faces.

Emil bowed stiffly, reminding me I should probably be doing the same. The Primal was an old god. But Malik and I remained straight, too dumbfounded to do anything but stare.

“Uh…” Emil slowly straightened. “Am I seeing things, or am I looking at someone who looks eerily similar to you?” He glanced in Malik’s direction, then mine. “To both of you, actually.”

Emil was stating the obvious, but I couldn’t fault him for doing so. I kept staring at the Primal, trying to find the differences. His hair was a little shorter and wavier, more like mine.

But other than that?

It was like seeing Malik two or so decades older.

Or looking at a near twin of our father.

“If you’re seeing shit…” Malik muttered, arms lax at his sides.

“Then we all are,” I finished for him.

The Primal’s silver eyes shifted to me, and everything about him changed.

It was brief—the flaring of his nostrils, the crease between his brows, and the tightening of his jaw—but I saw it before his gaze slid back to Malik.

I didn’t pick up any emotion from him and didn’t know if that was because he was a Primal, he was shielding them, or it was a limit to my abilities.

Still, I knew what that quick display of emotion was.

Pain.

And not the physical kind.

“He really could’ve warned me about this,” the Primal said under his breath, but I still heard the faint, melodic rhythm that was both familiar and utterly foreign at the same time. He looked at us. “Hello.”

I blinked, then stiffened as I saw that Delano had crept forward, his head lowered, and tail tucked close to his body. Before I could say shit, the Primal god extended his hand toward the wolven. Delano cautiously lifted his head and sniffed the outstretched hand.