Page 38 of Veiled By Smoke (The Nature Hunters Academy #5)

“I’ve never run from a fight. I’ve always been the one running into it.

For the first time, I want to grab my soul bonded and turn in the opposite direction from all the calamity and forget everything but her.

I want to drown myself in her scent, her taste, and everything about her that makes me whole. ” ~ Ra

R a leaned forward, elbows on his knees, every line of his body intent.

Aurora’s question, “ Is my soul torn?” , hung in the air, fragile as spun glass.

For a moment, the fire at his core flickered uncertainly.

He remembered when he’d walked into the room and felt her power: that echo, that pull, like a melody played on a string that had once been whole and now sang in two places at once.

He met her gaze, letting the blackness of his eyes show her he was not afraid of the truth.

“Yes,” he said, quiet, honest. “That’s exactly what it is.

When your parents died, you were just a baby.

That kind of loss, it’s not just grief. It’s like a thread gets snapped.

Your soul . . . it split. Part of it was destroyed because of the darkness that was the cause of your parents’ death, but enough stayed to keep you here.

” He saw her shiver, but she didn’t look away.

“And now?” Aurora asked, voice barely a whisper. “Why do I feel it so much more right now?”

Ra’s lips pressed together. “Because you’re coming of age.

There are times in a Mark’s life when the magic inside them stirs.

It’s like the world is asking if you’re ready to step into who you’re meant to be.

That’s happening to you. You’re not just sensitive to magic, Aurora.

You’re a potential Mark. And yes, one day, you will have a soul bonded of your own, a mate who makes you whole again.

That’s why we’re here: to help you survive this, and to help you choose your own path.

” How the hell he was going to make that happen, he had no clue.

As Ra looked at the child before him, he couldn’t imagine delivering her to Viscious.

He couldn’t. He felt a stabbing sensation in his heart, a reminder of his promise.

Even thinking of breaking it was dangerous.

The magic was reminding him. He was bound.

The room had gone very still. Penny was watching Ra with a strange, soft smile.

It was sort of creeping him out. Ra didn’t like any female’s eyes on him other than Shelly’s.

Cordelia’s eyes glistened, pride and worry mixing in the depths.

Neither stare was with desire. They saw him as a comrade, a friend, with the same goal.

Fern squeezed Aurora’s hand. “See, honey? You’re not broken. You’re just,” she paused, seeming to look for the right word, “becoming.”

Aurora looked at Fern. “You’re not freaked out? I mean, last night you said that you were keeping an open mind, but I thought maybe you were just trying to stay calm for my sake.”

Fern smiled, her eyes filled with love. “I know truth when I hear it, and I’ve been around long enough to have encountered true evil in the world–and true goodness.

” She turned and looked at Coredila, Penny, and then Ra.

“While we all have battles with the darkness, because we are not perfect, we can overcome it–me with my creator, and you with yours.”

It was one of the rare moments Ra felt hope spark in the darkness.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of gentle questions and hesitant laughter.

Penny showed off a few harmless spells; levitating a teacup, turning a handkerchief into a flapping paper bird.

Cordelia brewed tea that smelled of rosemary and honey, filling the house with warmth.

Aurora soaked it all in, her wariness slowly giving way to a cautious curiosity.

As dusk fell, Penny glanced at Fern. “You both should stay the night. It’s not safe to travel in the storm, and there’s a spare room upstairs. We’d love for you to be our guests.”

Fern hesitated, but Ra nodded, his voice steady and firm. “It’s for the best. The storm’s only going to get worse, and, well, I’d sleep better knowing you’re under this roof tonight.” He didn’t say, “ knowing you’re where I can protect you ,” but the words were there, unspoken.

Fern and Aurora agreed, and Penny led them away. Ra watched them go, the weight of responsibility pressing in.

He could feel his mate’s longing from across the realms. Shelly’s presence tugged at him, gentle and insistent, more reliable than the sunrise.

He didn’t have the heart, or the courage, to face her in person, not when he was so tangled up in darkness.

Instead, he slipped away to the quietest corner of the house, pulled out his phone, and dialed her number.

She answered on the first ring. “Ra,” she breathed out, sounding relieved.

Her voice was tired but sweet, the sound of home.

“Hey, Mery,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

“I miss you.” Ra didn’t show emotion often, but with Shelly it was easy.

She was his and he was hers. All that he was belonged to her–until, of course, he made a ridiculous bargain with the dark fire king.

“I love you,” he added, because he didn’t want her to ever doubt it for a moment, so he’d tell her often.

“I love you,” she said almost shyly, “ And I miss you, too. It was a long day. Are you safe?”

Ra let out a breath, wishing he could say yes. “I’m as safe as I can be. I just wish I was there. I wish I could hold you. I feel like I’m half a man when I’m not with you.”

He heard her soft laugh, sleepy and sad. “You’re never half of anything, Ra. Not to me. But you don’t have to fix the world alone. You have me. You have our friends. You’re not alone, Baby. Don’t let the darkness convince you otherwise.”

Her reassurance was a balm, and for a moment, he almost believed it. They said their goodnights, and Ra stared at the phone long after the call had ended, clinging to her words like a lifeline. He had to be careful not to break the device and finally loosened his grip.

But the night brought no peace. Penny had shown him to a room he could use.

He’d laid down, fully clothed, even leaving his shoes on.

The idea of undressing made him feel vulnerable.

It was a feeling he despised. When sleep finally claimed him, it was shallow, restless.

The darkness pressed in, thick and suffocating.

In his dreams, he found himself in a place that was neither here nor the underworld; it was a grey wasteland, sand swirling at his feet.

Ramses lurked just beyond the veil, his presence ancient and familiar. “ Fight him, Ra. Don’t let him in. You are more than this curse. You are more than darkness.”

But Lucifer slithered through the cracks, oily and cold, his voice a caress that felt like knives. “ Let me in, little king. I can ease your burden. Just a taste. Just a slice.”

Ra tried to shut him out, but exhaustion made his mind slippery, the walls that had been strong, thin. That’s when another presence crashed in. Viscious, the dark fire king, his power brutal and raw, lit up Ra’s mind with burning chains.

“Remember your promise,” Viscious snarled, his voice like an inferno. “ You are mine, Ra. You serve me. Bring me the girl. I can feel her power through you. She could be a soul bonded. She is mine by right. Quit wasting time and do what you swore you would.”

Viscious clawed at Ra’s memories, greedily soaking up every image of Aurora, every flicker of her light. The more he saw, the more he wanted. Ra fought to hold back, but his body burned with frustration, power surging, desperate for release.

He woke with a gasp, sweat soaking his skin, the taste of ash in his mouth.

The fire inside him was a living thing, raging and wild, but it felt wrong, tainted, poisoned by the touch of Viscious and the echo of Lucifer’s hunger.

He stumbled from his room, finding the backdoor.

Practically ripping it off its hinges, he hurried outside, into the chill of the night.

The rain, shockingly, had stopped, though he could still smell it in the air and feel the power of the lightning in the sky.

The storms weren’t over, they were simply resting, regrouping for another attack on nature.

The agony was unbearable, a thousand knives beneath his skin, every nerve ending screaming for release.

The blood bond burned, the memory of Viscious’s demand twisting his insides until he thought he might shatter.

He felt stretched between worlds, between promises, between who he was and who he feared he might become.

Ra closed his mouth from the roar he barely managed to keep inside as he raised his fists to the sky.

The fire erupted, not in a controlled, gentle blaze, but a wild, desperate torrent, pouring from every pore, every breath, every wound.

Flames leapt from his skin, licking up his arms, crawling over his chest and back, encasing him in an inferno of his own pain.

He let the agony have him, let it burn through every memory, every guilt, every promise he’d ever made.

His power flared so bright that the world went white for a heartbeat, but nothing around him caught, nothing turned to ash.

The fire was his, but it was also his prison.

He couldn’t scream, couldn’t run, couldn’t fight; he could only burn.

He dropped to his knees, head bowed, shaking with the force of what he held inside. His mind was a battlefield, the promise to Viscious echoing like a curse, every longing for Shelly a plea for mercy.