Page 89 of Worse Fates

Golden nods furiously, moaning so loud I’m sure the others can hear, not that I care. Let everyone know who he belongs to.

“I can’t hear you, love.” I suck on his pulse.

“Y-yes, Lucero.”

I smirk, taking his mouth in another soul deep kiss before regretfully placing him on the ground. Groaning, he reaches for me again and somehow, I find the willpower to stay firm and tilt his blushing cheeks up.

“Stay in the mansion and close to Ramy. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

He takes hold of my forearm, turning his face into the heart of my palm and kissing it, my heart breaking at the sheer tenderness.

“I just met you, Lucero. So you gotta be safe, alright? I’ll be real pissed if not.”

I press my lips to his forehead for long moments, before slowly letting him go.

“A thousand lifetimes would not be enough. But I promise to keep this life safe, and soon you and I will truly live.”

When I leave Golden to hunt blood mages, it’s with such regret that the sharpness of it pieces my heart worse than any blood spear.

But Jace’s life is counted in hours, and my hand will be the one to snuff it out.

It is time to end this.

Chapter Thirty-One - Lucero

‘I should be home with Golden.’

That same thought loops. Finding and killing Jace, and ending whatever the blood mages are up to, as well as saving Rurik’s mate, is all worth the time.

Yet…

Everything begs me to return, hopefully to find Golden safe in bed, blanket tucked under his chin. Especially after I promised him immortality, a heavy promise which could be as hopeful as a new dawn.

Or grim as the grave.

But my hunting pulls me in a different direction.

“I can’t sense any magical energies.” Summer sits in the back as I drive through the empty roads. Window down, our shadow mage fights off the chill in a fuzzy purple coat. Unlike Rurik and I, the cold affects her as keenly as any human.

“Nothing at all?” I question.

“Nothing that isn’t unusual.” Summer’s hand hangs from the window, fingertips trailing the night air. Smoky black tendrils spill from her black rings, swirling like drops of ink to be carried off into a river's current.

“We should split up.” Rurik’s body is as taut as a bow and aimed at the open window. “Already we’ve scouted every location your Golden gave us and come up empty, a waste of our fucking time.”

I shoot a hard glare at Rurik, and say, voice full of command, “Watch your tone when speaking about my mate, brother.”

“Fuck my tone,brother.”

“Dicks away boys,” Summer calls from the back. “Have either of you tried scenting?”

Neither of us answer. Unlike others, blood mages don’t have a unique scent. Their magic eats away at it like maggots nibbling healthy meat, leaving only rot behind that seeps into their pores and crusts under their nails. A smell like that is an easy one to find, and so far we haven’t even caught a whiff on the breeze.

“So I understand shadow and blood mages don’t get along,” I say, turning into an alley.

Summer hesitates, mouth half-open, searching for the right words.

While my lovely Golden needs to fill every silence, I’m quite happy to sit in it—comfortable or not. With Vidar absent I need to think like the head of our family, and I doubt Summer is here out of the goodness in her heart.