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“Your mistress?” I asked, vaguely remembering he’d mentioned a powerful demon mistress before, though I thought he’d said she was his mistress no more. “Where are the people?”
“Eaten,” he answered flatly. “Slaves.”
“How horrible.”
“I know.” He waved at the bottles that rattled beneath the canvas behind us. “We have a wagon full of elixir and no one to sell it to.”
How could my father be so heartless? “Who cares about the elixir, Father? What about the people?”
He laughed. “What care I for lowly humans?”
“Isn’t that what we are, human?” I looked down at my frail, pale hand that turned a bright red if I was exposed to even a little sun. Most Fae, I was told, had warmer complexions and more robust constitutions. I sneezed at the slightest breeze.
He gave me a cool look. “Do you feel human?”
“I-I don’t know.” Though my father usually covered his head with the hood of his robe, I thought I’d seen the pointy tip of an ear once when he was combing lice from his long, scraggly hair. But if he was Fae, why didn’t I look Fae, too? I looked nothing like my tall, lanky father with sun-kissed skin and traces of dark hair underneath his gray roots. I was just a mousy human with straw for hair. Sure, I had minor green witch powers, but I didn’t have the strength and stamina of a Fae. Many days it was a struggle to draw breath. If it hadn’t been for the elixir that I drank when I felt a sickness coming on, I’d probably be dead by now. I gasped when our cart rolled over a homespun doll lying in the dirt. Depression and despair threatened to overwhelm me, and my head throbbed. “We should leave this cursed place.”
“Nonsense,” my father slurred before taking a long sip from his flask. “We will sleep in one of the houses tonight. We’ll find a comfortable bed to share.”
I arched away from him, nausea roiling my gut. “I prefer my own bed, and I will not be sleeping with these human ghosts.”
He rolled his eyes. “Such a dramatic witch.”
I tensed, looking over my shoulder, fearing that someone might have heard my father call me a witch, a hanging offense in the human lands. My shoulders sagged when I realized there were no living humans to hear my father.
“And a powerful one at that,” my father continued, his words tripping on one another and spittle flying off his tongue. “One who thwarts all my advances.” He grabbed my knee and squeezed while blasting me with his hot, rancid breath. “But you just make the chase more fun.”
I pushed him away with a scowl. “You’re drunk.”
He waggled his brows. “Drunk on love, Flora.”
I arched a brow. “Who?”
“Anya.” He heaved a groan, dragging a hand down his face. “I gave up everything for you. I’m a hunted man because I chose to keep you safe.” He reminded me of a spoiled child when he pouted and batted his lashes. “The least you could do is reward me with a kiss.”
A hunted man for keeping me safe? But who was hunting us?
When he reached for me, his long, knobby fingers digging into my breasts, I’d had enough. I zapped him hard with a bolt of green magic.
He flew off the wagon with a feeble cry, landing hard on his backside.
Our donkey stopped with an angry bray while I peered over the cart. My father was sprawled out on the ground, his robe tossed up over his head, revealing his bony legs, flaccid member, and distended gut.
“I’m sleeping in the wagon tonight.” Magic burned my palms as I glared down at him. “If you bother me, you’ll regret it.” And then on the morrow my father and I would part ways. I was tired of being forced to serve this cruel beast. I would leave him and set out to find a new place to call home, a place where I truly belonged. I clutched my throat when two sets of silver/blue eyes flashed in my mind, the same eyes from my dreams. Whose were they and what did these visions mean?
So consumed was I by those eyes, I hadn’t noticed my father had gotten to his feet. I saw the gleam in his eyes before I could respond. “Ungrateful bitch!” he hollered, and then I saw only a pale flare before succumbing to the void.
Chapter Nine
Tari
Iwoke with a dull throb, as if someone had hammered a nail into my skull. I opened my eyes, relieved for the low candlelight of our musty cavern bedchamber, for I didn’t think I could handle pure sunlight. My memories were still there. All of them.
I recalled growing up with Shiri. Our mother and father had usually made sure we had enough food before they would eat, and if we were still hungry our father would fly us deeper into the forest, and we’d help him collect nuts and berries. I remembered giggling with Shiri while holding onto our father’s neck. He’d fashioned a sling to fit both of us, and he’d flown from tree limb to tree limb, never above the treetops lest we were spotted by one of Malvolia’s spies. Despite the fear of being discovered by Malvolia that constantly haunted us, our little family had carved out a bit of happiness among the gloom, for our mother and father had loved us and kept us safe, and I had my playmate, my very best friend, my twin, to always keep me company.
I recalled the night I’d met Ash and Finn, how their hungry gazes had pinned me from across the campfire. Though my father had threatened to turn them to ash, I was desperate to steal a moment alone with them. The female wolves had pulled me from my protective father’s arms, saying they were taking me to bathe in a section of the stream where males weren’t allowed, but they’d conspired with my mates and had led me to them instead. Ash and Finn had taken me to the ritual cavern baths where countless shifters before them had bonded with their fated mates. That had been and remains the most magical night of my life. I’d found heaven in their arms that night and then had awoken to a nightmare.
The next three years were a blur of sorrow and rage. I remember the birth of my babies. Shiri had been the first to hold them, her eyes watering as she snuggled them to her chest. My mother had balked at the blood and wouldn’t hold them until after Shiri had given them baths. I didn’t blame our mother. She’d had an aversion to blood after surviving the Dark and Crimson Tides. In fact, she drank herbs to prevent her monthly flow to avoid the sight of blood between her legs. I remembered holding my daughters for just a short while. Then I slept, first from exhaustion, and then because I was too depressed to face the reality of raising my daughters without Finn and Ash. I did a lot of sleeping that first year while Shiri raised my daughters for me. The realization shamed me, but it also made me realize just how much I’d missed my mates. Now they were here, and like a fool, I was chasing after their undeserving brother. I stared at the dark cavern ceiling, vowing to never again take them for granted.
