SAGE
"I hope this won’t make us lifemates," I said lightly, the words forced into sothing that sounded like a joke. "Because if so, I might be the first female to kill off her lifemate..."
I leaned closer to Darius’s wrist and licked the pinprick where my fangs had pierced him. The taste of his blood still lingered on my tongue—rich, utterly enticing and delicious, addicting, humming faintly with ancient power.
Under my gaze, the tiny wounds sealed themselves, skin knitting together seamlessly.
I watched it happen with quiet fascination. So, this is what I had beco? My spittle now had healing properties.
A wonderful phenonon only seen in these gods-blessed supernaturals , according to the half-forgotten texts I’d once skimd through in the forbidden royal library, and dismissed as myth.
Seeing it happen—feeling it—was sothing else entirely. Another enigma stacked neatly atop the mountain of things I didn’t yet understand about myself. Powers I was yet to understand, to tap into...
Darius rolled his eyes, a corner of his mouth twitching as he let his hand fall to his side. "No," he said dryly. "Only our minds are connected."
A slight pause. "Otherwise, I might as well beco a vampire..."
I laughed, even though relief loosened sothing in my chest that I hadn’t realized was clenched. It didn’t matter that he had told countless tis that we couldn’t be bonded spirit and soul this way... every feed just had my heart rate spiking...
Speaking of hearts... How was that organ now? Like an ancient’s?
Then I caught him staring. "What?"
He studied for a mont, head tilted slightly. "How did you do it," he asked, "three days ago. How did you access my mind while you were...breaking apart."
I shrugged, the motion careless, though my body still felt strange, recalibrating. "I didn’t," I said honestly. "Not consciously. El did."
I pushed myself to my feet, the stone beneath my boots cold and solid. The world tilted imdiately, my balance wavering. Darius was there in an instant, his hand steady at my elbow, grounding .
"How do you feel," he asked.
I inhaled slowly. Stronger. Better. That was the simplest way to put it. But it didn’t co close to the truth.
"I can see everything," I murmured, blinking as my gaze drifted across the cavern. The floating lights burned brighter than before, their edges sharper, their colors deeper. I could make out hairline cracks in the stone walls, tiny veins of mineral glinting far overhead. "And hear everything too."
I tilted my head, focusing.
Footsteps echoed sowhere far beyond the cave—miles away, I realized dimly. Voices murmured faintly through layers of stone and distance, distinct enough that I could separate them if I wanted to.
"This is..." I trailed off, then laughed softly. "So this is how it feels to be an ancient."
Magic humd through my bloodstream, a complex harmony of forces layered together—old power, older blood, sothing divine and sothing feral braided into one.
For a terrifying heartbeat, I understood why so ancients believed themselves gods. Until they were not... until they beca creatures of the undead, because of their greed.
I glanced at Darius. "Ask El," I said. "She possessed completely. That’s how she reached you."
His expression shifted, thoughtful, eyes narrowing slightly. He nodded once, absorbing that.
As he led away from the section of the cave that had served as my sleeping quarters, he spoke again. "There are wells within you," he said quietly. "More than I’ve seen in centuries. Possibilities."
I waved it off. "I’m not interested in prophecies."
He didn’t smile. "Whatever darkness is coming," he continued, unfazed, "it will require all of them. You will need training."
I ignored him.
We walked deeper into the cave, the path sloping downward before widening abruptly. The air grew cooler, heavier. The sll of earth intensified.
"You’ll need to sleep underground," Darius added, as casually as if he were suggesting a change of rooms.
My steps faltered. Sleep...underground?
My throat tightened, a reflexive swallow scraping painfully. I kept walking, refusing to let him see the fear spike sharp and sudden.
"The first night after feeding," he went on, "your body returned to the soil to heal and form properly. You were unconscious then."
I rembered flashes. Darkness. Pressure. Weight. But I’d woken up on a bed—soft, warm, safe.
"And now," he said gently, "you must choose it."
I shuddered.
The soil had always haunted my dreams. Every nightmare began the sa way—with clawing my way out of the ground, lungs burning, hands bleeding, surrounded by darkness and sothing watching.
Entering the earth willingly felt too close to death. Too close to whatever waited beyond it. I didn’t think I could do it.
We erged into the central cavern.
It was vast—far larger than I’d realized before. The ceiling arched impossibly high, studded with glowing crystals embedded like frozen stars. Stone columns rose from the floor, etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly in rhythm with my heartbeat.
About twenty ancients were gathered there. All male.
They stood in loose clusters, conversation halting the mont I stepped into view. The silence that followed was heavy, assessing.
In their eyes, were the looks I recognized imdiately. I had read about them. Warriors who went to battle without their lifemates, believing it their duty to protect them at all costs.
Unlike werewolves—who could survive the loss of a mate, broken but alive—ancients could not.
Once an ancient male lost his mate, especially, he surrendered to the darkness.
So beca vampires—creatures of the undead, bound to hunger and despair, seeing no reason to continue living, but to feed on innocent souls. Others chose a different end.
They asked their fellow ancients to kill them, believing death at an ancient’s hand would carry them to paradise.
To them, vampirism was hell.
I felt their gazes rake over , weighing, asuring. Power brushed against my senses from all sides, old and sharp.
My shoulders straightened instinctively. So then, this was what I had beco part of.
Would I have a lifemate too?
Reviews
All reviews (0)