Page 5 of Worse Fates (Soulmates Suck #1)

Waves of heat beat at my skin as I watch the mansion burn. Smoke, thick enough to taste, heaves into the sky, as an inferno engulfs the mansion. It’s like watching two mighty hands digging flaming fingers into wood, brick and glass and tearing it to pieces.

“Vidar.”

I’m angry, but more than anything I’m tired.

My once proud Maker sits naked on the pebbled road, unbothered. Ramy places a coat on his shoulders.

“Are you okay, Maker?”

Ramy asks, kneeling beside him, speaking as if Vidar is a wounded child. Not a vampire over a thousand years old.

“I’ve found you another home to keep you safe.”

“As long as it’s far away from you, whelp, then I don’t care where it is. Shove me in some hotel for all I care.”

Ramy flinches, barely, but I see it. And as another wall of the mansion falls, so does my patience.

“A hotel? Have you lost the last shreds of your mind?”

I say, my anger turning my voice harsh.

“No wonder that human took one look at you and fled.”

“Like I care—”

“We’re all aware of how little you care!”

I gesture towards him, my fury building.

“You have turned into a thing you would hate, lashing out at us like we’re at fault for your apathy. We love you, even now as you hurl your insults we love you, Maker. But it isn't our fault you stopped loving us back.”

Vidar tries to stand. It’s a painful process for him, and me to watch, like seeing a broken hand with fingers at odd angles, needing to be reset. His limbs and spine crack as he moves, his joints grinding back into place. Ramy tries to help, but is hissed back.

Finally, he stands, his back hunched, knees and elbows protruding and glares at me with such disdain I nearly take a step back. But I stand my ground. My gaze hard and unflinching.

“The only reason I made you, Sen, Rurik, and Ramy, was not for love or family.”

Vidar grunts.

“But for entertainment. To watch you all desperately attempt to become some noble vampire while remaining the humans I found in the filth.”

Ramy sucks in a pained breath, while I seethe.

“Con artist,”

he spits at me.

“Drunk and beggar.”

He waves a hand to encompass Rurik and Sen who aren’t even here.

He levels Ramy with a harsh glare.

“Whore.”

Ramy’s intake of breath is a small, hurt thing.

“No more.”

I grab Ramy by the shoulder, pulling him towards the car.

“I am done listening to you. Congratulations are in order, Vidar. Well done, would you like an applause? You’ve found my last straw and pushed us all away. Rurik is out hunting the human you traumatised, and that is the final act we'll ever do for you.”

“Luc…”

Ramy’s voice is quiet, but hesitant. Vidar is our Maker, our family. But today we turn our back from a relationship I thought would never break.

I rip open the car door and I’m about to shove Ramy in when Vidar laughs.

“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.

He’s all chestnut brown skin, plush lips and curls that spill over his forehead, and onto his slim shoulders. Now I’m closer I can make out all the colours of his hair; the deep burgundy and ambers that merge into black.

The wound on his neck slowly stops bleeding, but already has begun to bruise a harsh purple. I’ll fix that, too. I’ll fix everything.

Rurik curses.

“Brother, I didn’t see. I’m sorry.”

“All I care about is that he's alive.”

His cheeks are pillow soft.

So beautiful, they’re always so heartbreakingly beautiful.

“He’s your mate reborn.”

And I curl my body around his to keep him safe from every evil in this world.