Page 13 of Worse Fates

“Oh yes.” His thin skin pulls painfully taut around his lips in a parody of a smile. “The human.”

“What about the fucking human?” I yell back, impatient.

Vidar drags his feet closer. “I forgot to mention his scent,” he smirks. “You might find it familiar.”

“I have no time for your games,” I snap, turning away.

“Fate owes you, Lucero.”

I freeze.

“And fate is one cruel bitch, isn't she? Because you lose one mate, and, as you fucking know, she’ll send you another…and another…and another. She’s not someone who’ll leave a debt outstanding.”

I move before he’s even finished speaking. Speeding past my cackling Maker and into our burning home, inhaling the smoke.

Ash. Moulding wallpaper. Damp wood. Smells even a cleansing fire failed to scorch away. I sprint into each room, taste the air as if I were a bloodhound.

I’m about to give up, but then I find it buried in a pile of smouldering curtains and bedsheets, hidden like jewels and more precious than one could ever be.

Each mate, though they all shared a soul, had different scents, but always there was one familiar element.

Sweet cherries. Sea breeze before a storm….home.

Fear propels me forward and suddenly I don’t care for Vidar and his dusty laughter, or Ramy calling out my name. The scent is difficult to hold on to, so I follow Rurik instead; strong coffee and rich, dark chocolate.

Whipping through the grounds, I charge back into the city. My fear and determination keeping my pace strong, I don’t care if my lungs burn and my legs strain under the pressure.

I need to find him.

I won’t be too late, I refuse.

The very idea would destroy me—and Rurik. Who I sent to kill my soulmate.

I find myself in the city and catch Rurik’s scent on the wind, interwoven with pine and dead leaves, and head in that direction. My heart lodged in my throat and panic freezing the air in my lungs. I’m running faster than the human eye can catch, yet my feet seem to drag as if I’m running through tar.

Each step takes years, every metre an eternity.

I find myself shrouded in the darkness of a park, Rurik’s back to me and the scent of fresh blood, and cherries, in the air.

Rurik twists around to me, and opens a bloody mouth to speak, a body slumped in his arms. I dart forward and tear the body away before Rurik utters a word, catching the man in an embrace.

Sweet cherries. Sea breeze.Home.

“Please live, please.” I don’t even know what he looks like, nor do I care. I press my ear to the chest and wait.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Behind me Rurik is saying something, but he’s unimportant. I keep my ear to my mate’s chest, listening to that beautiful rhythm, relief cooling my fear.

A weak hand slaps against my head, and I glance towards the owner’s face.

“F…fuck…ing b-bastard, imma…kill you…when I’m b-better…” His voice is fragile, something I want to hold in my arms and protect. I sit up and am met with the deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, hair a wonder of black curls.

He flips me off, hand shaking with the effort. “B-Bitch.” Then passes out.

“What the hell, Luc?” Rurik demands.

I pull the man, or boy? God, he looks young. Early twenties, perhaps? I pull him into my arms and stand. He’s not tall and should be heavier, I’ll fix that.