“Quite simply, it means we’re all connected to you. Fated, if you will,” he answers.
I drop my hand from my face and into my lap. “Fated for what?”
Calix takes a few steps closer to our group. “Fated mates,” he announces.
Chapter 14
Iburst out laughing. I can’t help myself. When no one else joins in, my laughter starts to die. “Wait, you can’t be serious.” I’m still chuckling.
“Oh, he’s very fucking serious. What the hell is so funny?” Gunnar gives me another scowl.
“I think I liked you better when you were eating ice cream,Kitten,” I state, dismissing him and rolling my eyes.
“Yes, well, you can see why we decided it might be best to ignore the pull of the bond until a later time. We thought at some point you would seek us out and choose a mate.” Grim is once again speaking calmly.
I look between all of them. “So, what? I’m supposed to choose between the three of you now?”
“That would be for the best.” Grim nods slowly.
I puff out my cheeks and blow out a raspberry. “There are a few issues with that.” I hold up a finger. “One, I don’t know what this mate thing really means. Two, I don’t know any of you. Three, why should I have to choose only one? I mean, if you’re all connected to me…” I shrug my shoulders. There’s no point in beating around the bush.
If the mate thing means what I think it does, I wouldn’t mind all three of them in my bed. But I don’t know if I could ever really trust any of them, because they left me to fend for myself. Sure, Grim guaranteed I survived by feeding me, but that was only once in a while. And what did the other two do for me? Nothing, that’s what.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at them, once again mad that none of them stuck around to actually guide me and teach me who and what I am.
“She looks pissed again,” Calix mutters, not answering my question about choosing.
“You know what? I am pissed. At what point did you decide only one of you having me as your mate was more important than actually teaching me about what and who I was?” Grim looks down first, the embers in his eyes all but distinguished now. Calix follows suit.
“Do you know what my first memory is?” When no one responds, I shout, “Well, do you?” I lurch to stand.
“Starving, that’s what. Being so hungry all the time that all I did was wail and cry.” I scrunch up my face, hating that I’m admitting this. “My mother got to the point where she just left me in my room for hours so she wouldn’t have to listen to me,” I seethe.
Focusing on Grim, I feel the air shift around me, and my hair lifts as a slight breeze surrounds me. “Do you know who came to me first?” I lower my tone and practice his calm demeanor.
“It was the Will-o’-the-Wisps, then Uncle Skinny Legs,” I tell him, before he can answer. “Imagine being a child and longing for my mother to hold me, just so I could have some comfort while I was starving to death, and he comes slinking into my room.” My words are met with silence.
I continue, “I didn’t have any room for fear. I was too lonely for that, too desperate.” I look down my nose at all three of them in a sneer.
“You think I mean something to any of you, that you’re my mates? What a joke. Every one of you put yourselves before me.” My chest is heaving; I’m filled with indignant rage. “I needed you then, but I don’t need you now!”
I don’t bother telling them to get out of my house. Instead, I walk out of the room with my head held high. I learned a long time ago that actions speak louder than words. Their actions prove that I don’t mean anything to them.
I can thank my bitch of a mother for teaching me that lesson early on. In public, I was her beautiful little darling. She would dote on me and pretend to be the perfect mother. But the truth hid at home, where she constantly told me what a freak I was, threatened to lock me up if I didn’t stop talking about all myimaginaryfriends,and made neglect an art form.
I slam my bedroom door so hard the pictures on the walls tremble. It was so satisfying, I’m almost tempted to do it again, but I don’t. I pace around my room, angry and lonely, instead. I want to punch my own teeth in for letting self-pity and loneliness bubble to the surface. Being lonely is better than being abandoned. I repeat those words over and over in my head, until I feel like I can believe them.
“Everyone leaves, Dami. Better you leave them than they leave you.” That’s what I tell myself when I’ve finally exhausted enough energy so I feel like I can lie down without coming out of my own skin. I don’t bother stripping out of my clothes. I don’t have enough willpower to make the effort. I drag the comforter over my head and block out the world. Most people do this when they’re scared of what’s in the dark, but I find the light of day holds many more horrors.
* * *
A noisedown the hall has me turning over and placing the pillow over my head. The rattling is familiar, but I’m not ready to get up. I lie in bed for a long time, wanting sleep to take me again. The brittle rattling comes once more, this time closer.
I toss the pillow off my head and smooth my hair away from my face. “Dami,” the crooked man whispers, while his bones clink together as he makes his way across my room. I look over the side of the bed. He walks like a crab, his limbs all twisted and backwards.
“What’s wrong?” My voice is smoky from sleep.
“Death has come,” he announces in a whisper, his head twisting at an unnatural angle as he peers at my bedroom door.
