Page 1 of Aryn

Aryn

My knees hit the dirt, and my head drops until the grass brushes against my forehead.

Lower.

My eyes want to drift toward the golden sheen of his skin, but I force them back to the pebbles and sparse blades beneath me. I’d burrow straight into the earth if I could—go belly up before him. My body locks, pulse hammering so loudly it drowns out everything else.

“I did not know any of your kind roamed this world,” I manage, voice low with shock, reverence, and something dangerously close to hope.

I shouldn’t dare feel it.

Shouldn’t let myself wonder what the presence of a Fate might mean—for any of us, but especially for me.

A broad shadow sweeps across the ground. The arc of his wings blots out the sky, and golden light dances over the grass where sunlight slips between the feathers. I keep my gaze fixed downward, the way I was taught so long ago.

Never look upon the Fates, Aryn. One day, they will return, and when they do, you kneel.

The words echo from a long-engrained memory, broken only when a deeper voice cuts through them.

“Stand.”

My heart stutters at the command. Every instinct screams at me to press flat to the ground, to lower myself all the way to my stomach and crawl, but around me the others are already rising. They face him like equals.

Their word is law. You do not argue. You do not disobey.

My body heeds the order before my mind catches up. One foot plants in the soil and I push upright. My head stays bowed, taking in only the edges of black leather pants, scuffed boots, and coppery fingers flexing at his sides. He waits with never-ending patience for me to obey, so I finally lift my face.

I don’t meet his eyes.

My gaze traces the sharp line of his jaw, the wild fall of golden curls over his shoulders, then the metallic veins threading through his wings. They pulse faintly, alive with power that thrums somewhere deep inside him.

“Who the hells—” Cameron starts, but Ronan lets out a panicked whine and lunges in front of his mate, putting himself between Cameron and the Fate.

Xeni shakes his head, studying the wings with open curiosity. “This is Sovran, though… I’ll admit the wings are new. He helped us escape Atlanta, and we owe him our lives. I gave him our location should the favor ever need to be repaid.”

My tail lashes once before I can stop it. “You walked with the Fates and did not think to mention it?”

Xeni’s practiced composure slips as his solid white eye widens. “The… Fates?”

Sovran gives him a small, tired smile. “That was a name I once answered to, yes. But that story can wait for another time.”

His gaze moves away to scan the group and I drop mine to the ground once more. There’s no rush as he examines each of us. Time would be of little consequence to his kind—not when they’re rumored to be immortal. When his attention lands on me, it might as well be a brand with how it burns. The heat builds until I can almost feel the skin draw and tuck beneath it.

I still don’t risk glancing up.

“Come,” he says once he’s satisfied. “We have many things to discuss.”

“Like how to open the portals?” Bash asks with a nonchalance that puts my body at attention. My muscles tense, torn between the urge to protect my friend and the need to fall to the ground at Sovran’s inevitable fury. Their tempers are legendary in the history I studied, and I brace myself for the outburst that’s sure to come.

To my surprise, Sovran glances fondly at Bash. “Such a beautiful mind, Sebastian. You have already gained that knowledge, though I can help you apply it. No, we must decide who will go.”

Bash looks even more confused. “Go where?”

My breath catches as I stare at Sovran’s profile, trying to read the words before he speaks them.

It’s a flip of a coin.

A roll of the dice.