Page 43 of Worse Fates (Soulmates Suck #1)

Two weeks later…

I’m hunting through Lucero’s walk-in wardrobe looking through his clothes.

Last week, when I suggested getting a job so I could actually stop burrowing Ramy’s clothes, Lucero handed me his card and told me not to be ridiculous.

‘Just spend my money, I have plenty, after all.’

A part of me thinks I should’ve at least fought back a little.

But why bother?

Who the fuck wants to work, anyway.

Besides, I’ve been looking at going to school. Maybe studying vexillology.

Lucero appeared surprised when all the bags turned up and I started unpacking. ‘I thought you’d be more punk.’

Sure, I liked bomber jackets, black combat trousers paired with big fuck-off boots. I just also liked my tops tight, colourful and sometimes cropped. Concerned, I asked if he didn’t like the way I normally dressed.

He answered by laying me out and kissing my exposed stomach until I was gasping and begging for more.

Which, of course, was when I fell asleep.

It’s frustrating having the energy of a hospitalised senior citizen. But I managed a walk around the garden every day this week without needing a break halfway through, and I’m up to two glasses of blood.

My progress is slow, but I’m getting there.

But none of that matters, not right now anyway as I throw a pair of Lucero’s jeans over my shoulder and add to the messy pile I’ve already rejected.

I’ll clean it up later.

Currently, I’m wearing one of his crisp white shirts. How my soulmate never stained his fancy clothes with blood is beyond me.

“What exactly are you doing in there?”

Lucero calls out playfully.

I pop my head out to find him exactly where I placed him laying on the bed. His hands behind his head, his body stretched out.

The room is still dark and moody, but the flowers I’ve placed in mugs dotted around give the space more colour.

“How do I look?”

I step out so he can get a good look.

Lucero’s hot gaze travels from my head, all the way down to my hairy legs.

“Adorable.”

I roll my eyes.

“I wasn’t going for adorable. I was going for that big top energy.”

Silently laughing at me, he asks.

“And what, my love, is that exactly?”

I gesture at him.

“You said you liked to be topped, so I’m gonna top you. But first I gotta get into the vibe, ya’know.”

“Of course.”

“And you always exude…”

He raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Well, you walk around like you’ve got the biggest dick in the room.”

A devilish smirk spreads across his handsome face.

“Why, thank you.”

I turn back towards the wardrobe.

“So I gotta find the right thing to wear so I’ll be able to do it. Top you, that is. I’m sure of it.”

“I have complete faith in you, beautiful.”

But before I can vanish inside, Lucero calls out to me.

“I have something for you. A surprise, of sorts.”

“You do?”

I ask, going to him.

He pauses, then reaches for his bedside table, opening the middle drawer—not the one with all the lube he usually goes for. Lucero hesitates, then holds out a yellowed envelope. For a moment, he just stares at it, running his finger along the curled edges, before handing it over.

Slowly, like he might snatch it back at the last minute, I take it from him.

“What is it?”

“A letter,”

he replies carefully.

“One that Samuel wrote for you.”

Samuel, Lucero’s soulmate before me.

My knee bounces, unsure what to say. But I can’t turn this down, not that I want to.

“Thank you for giving this to me.”

And I press a quick kiss to his cheek.

His deep blue gaze hovers on the letter for a moment, a flash of…sadness, before offering me a small smile.

Rising, I go back to the wardrobe.

“Now lay down and wait for me.”

I was about to add ‘like a good boy’ but heat rises in my cheeks so fast it blocks the words.

Next time. Maybe…

“As you wish,”

he teases back.

Once back in the wardrobe I make myself comfortable in the pile of Lucero’s clothes, and gently tear the envelope open.

Dear You,

I’m unsure how to refer to you—the one who’ll be reborn with my soul, just as I was with Tristan’s, and he with Francisco’s. But ‘You’ feels apt.

Because in some ways I know you deeply, surely a shared soul would do that. However, in every way that counts, I’ll never know you at all. I’ll never know the texture of your hair, or the sound of your laugh. The beat of your heart. A heart, I have no doubt, beats for Lucero. Like mine does even as I lie here, said heart failing with each passing minute.

I’m dying, you see, and as the dying often do I’m reflecting on my life, and of course, my regrets.

While I have many, and I won’t waste your time by listing them, not loving Lucero the way I should have is the biggest one. I thought a love between two men was something to keep hidden and sadly, it took a heart attack and news I’ll soon die to realise how wrong I’ve been.

So, selfishly, I ask, You, the bearer of this soul of ours to do the thing I, and I suspect the others, could not.

Love him, You.

Love our Lucero, who now belongs to you as wholly as he ever did to me. Love him without shame—loudly. Stomp your foot and tell the world, with all the disrespect you can muster, that this man, and you, deserve to be loved.

Because, simply and whole-heartidly, it’s true.

Yours, once his,

Samuel Rees.

In the quiet of the wardrobe, huddled in a nest of Lucero’s clothes, I press the letter to my chest.

In my mind Lucero’s soulmates were perfect images of men I could never live up to. But they’re people, fucked up as the rest of us.

“I promise,”

I say to the letter. To Samuel, Tristan, Francisco, Lucero and myself.

“I promise.”

Then I go to the shoebox I’ve got tucked behind my clothes and open it. Inside is the brooch I stole that started this whole thing, the empty jam jar I used to write my mirror message, before escaping out the window. A small pile of petals from the first flowers I ever got Lucero.

And now this letter, which I safely tuck inside before slotting the lid back on.

Loving is scary. But…so is not loving.

Deciding not to change again, I go back to my soulmate in just his shirt that falls to my knees. His eyes land on me, and he smiles.

I’ll share the letter with him later.

For now I gotta live as loudly as I can. So I climb on top of him grinning, this will definitely be fun. And not awkward at all.

…Alright, maybe a little awkward.

But that’s fine.

“Okay, so…”

He waits, patiently.

“Okay,” I repeat.

After a beat, I go towards the drawer with all the lube, not breaking our eye contact like Lucero does with smooth accuracy.

Too bad I miss.

I gasp, tipping sideways and about to faceplant when Lucero, laughing, catches me and pulls me back up.

Chuckling with him, I drop my face into his chest.

“I’m messing up this whole topping thing.”

“You’re doing perfectly,”

he says with complete honesty, then reaches for the drawer and, gaze locked, pulls out lube.

Fuck sakes, how is he that suave? I bet he practices when I’m not around.

“Either you're a great liar, or delusional.”

“Both?”

He offers up.

“And you know, beautiful, there are more ways than one to top. Let me show you…”

Soon, he has me panting, my fingers tangled in his hair as his lubed digits stretch my hole.

“Are you ready to top me, Golden?”

he whispers in my ear, his blunt dickhead hot and pressing against my hole. The shirt I’m wearing slipped down my shoulders.

I nod.

“Yes, so ready.”

He nips my jaw.

“That isn’t how you ask for things you want.”

“Yes please, Lucero.”

I beg, because he loves it, and I love the way it makes me feel.

“Anything for you, beautiful.”

And pushing his hard length into my waiting body.

Moaning, I close my eyes at the stretch. The fullness. We’re so close, our hearts finding the same pace as he slowly feeds me his every inch.

And I might be on top, yet he’s still doing all the work.

His palms are full with my ass as he moves me up and down, and on each perfect glide, whether he’s filling me to a perfect point, or leaving me achingly empty, his dick grazes that bundle of nerves that has my spine shooting electricity across my body.

Needing to feel closer to him, I press my hand to my lower stomach.

“Lucero,”

I pant.

“Not close enough. I want more. Please. I love you, give me more.”

I’m not even really sure what I’m asking for. But my soulmate understands me more than I even understand myself.

His fingers curl in my hair and encourages my face to his neck.

“For begging that pretty, how can I not give you what you need?”

And his fangs slide into my neck so I cry out loud, then sink my own into the pulse at his throat.

We move together, my straining dick trapped between our sweat dripping bodies. The pleasure overwhelms, but it’s the love we share that drives me closer to the edge.

“Lucero,”

I moan, the taste of his rich blood exploding my every tastebud.

He moves into me faster, then glides his hand to my dick and strokes my heated flesh to the same fast pace as our love making.

It isn’t long before I’m spilling in his hand, Lucero chasing after me with a hard snap of his hips, a guttural groan rushing from his mouth.

Sweat cools on my back, and his cum leaks over our entwined legs. It’s messy, but as we swim in this bliss together I can’t find it in myself to care.

Soon, sleep tugs at my edges and safe in my soulmates embrace, I begin to drift.

“I love you, my light,”

I whisper.

“And I love you, too, Golden,”

Lucero replies.

“Forever, and ever…”

The End.