If you’re truly meant to be mine, then you’re going to wake the fuck up and argue with me about it,I think at her, my arms folding across my chest.So enjoy what’s left of your nap, sweetheart. Because we’re going to have a long conversation when you wake up.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
FALLON
“Fallon Doyle,you have been found in breach of edict number three thousand four hundred and seven.” The deep male voice belongs to Patrick O’Neely, but I can’t see his features beneath his robe.
All seven patriarchs have formed an arch around me.
One of those patriarchs is my father. He reclaimed his position at the council table after securing my mating to Klas.
The other five are all male figureheads in their families, completing the Outcast Coven’s leadership circle. Together their power is immense, dwarfing my abilities and those of everyone else in their path.
It doesn’t matter that the females of our kind tend to be stronger than the males, because these men have all been blessed with dark arts, thus allowing them a unique brotherhood that surpasses all other magic within our coven.
The matriarchs may serve as figureheads of the Outcast Coven to the outside world, but they’re entirely controlled by their male mates.
All because of the hooded men surrounding me now.
I shiver as their presence presses down upon my spirit, forcing me to bow in the death plane.
This is the source of my power. A place I should be able to draw great energy from. Yet I’m shackled to a death stone. I feel so cold. Soalone.
“Fallon Doyle will honor the Outcast Coven by adhering to our ancient pledge—loyal mates die with their beloved. Or those mates will be punished with fates worse than death.” The words are a chant, spoken by all patriarchs at once and creating an eerie reverberation of sound around me.
I swallow, my soul shuddering from the power weighing down upon me. It makes me bow lower, bringing my forehead to the icy rock and driving the sting of death into my spirit.
“You have failed your duty as a mate, Fallon Doyle,” Patrick O’Neely continues. “You will be punished.”
“You will be punished,” the other six patriarchs echo.
“Nikolas O’Neely wanders the afterlife alone, his soul lost as a result of your severed connection. We will pair you once more, draw his spirit to yours, and allow him to administer your punishment for eternity,” Patriarch O’Neely says.
My veins ice over, my nonexistent heart seeming to freeze in my chest.
I’m not corporeal here. Not really. But Ifeelcorporeal. It’s such a bizarre sensation, one that fucks with my mental state.
Am I alive or dead?
I feel alive.
I feel the death stone. I feel the chilly vibrations in the air. I feel the power that thrives here. I feel my pulse racing in an attempt to heat my frigid form. I feel my own breath.
How is that possible? Is it part of my pending damnation?I wonder, my fingers curling into my palms.I feel that, too—the bite of my nails. Is this normal?
The patriarchs begin to chant, their words ones of an ancient tongue.
Issy?I whisper, trying to connect to my sister.Are you there?She would be able to tell me what’s happening, what spell they’re calling to them now.
But she’s silent.
Severed from my soul.
Tears threaten my eyes, not out of despair, but out of something much stronger. Much angrier. Much morepowerful.
I’m so fucking tired of being a pawn.
So fucking tired of the way the coven treats me and my sister.
