Page 28 of Blood & Bedlam

Reality washes over me like a bucket of cold water when her eyes meet mine, the pupils blown black with lust and … and thrall. Fates. The reflection of my eyes in hers is just as wild, because this connection between us is hungry. Demanding.

“Stop,” I command, gently pulling her hand back. She’s flushed and vibrating with need, her body worked up into a frenzy because our bodies want to be together. To complete the Bond. Hurt flashes across her face, the sting of rejection harsh. She stands abruptly and stumbles several steps away, showing me her back.

“I’m sorry. Listen—” I begin to explain, unsure of exactly how I’m going to do just that, when a bell chimes around us. Fleur’s voice echoes through the stone on my desk.

“Papa? Lady Hecate is here to see you.”

Relief washes over me. It’s an out, a cowardly one, but I take it. “We’re coming,” I call to the stone, then refocus on Reine. “Are you okay?”

She smooths back her hair, and I pretend not to notice the mortification rolling off her. “Is that who’s going to explain why I look like your wife?” she asks, avoiding my question. There’s a hardness to her voice as she spins, straightening down her dress. In seconds, she’s pulled herself together, chin raised, the flush nearly gone from her cheeks.

“I’m hopeful, yes.”

She sniffs, then steps past me without another word. The instinct of a Bond is driving her and me, and until we know more, I have to keep my shit together. Reine waits at the gilded mirror, and I sigh as I make my way past her to activate the portal. She’s silent as she follows me out, sliding an armor into place that’s determined to show me nothing.

Cate will know how to fix this. Witchcraft made me, and I feel that same touch in the spark of Reine’s being that resides in my own.

Her steps trail behind through my study door, and it only occurs to me that my lap is covered in a stain of wet liquid when we’re met by two Greek gods sitting on my settee. The blond God of Thieves smirks, lifting an eyebrow when his eyes drop to my fucking cock, but the Goddess of Witchcraft’s are laser-focused on the mortal behind me, her jaw slack.

“Is that …?” Cate gasps before covering her mouth with her fingers. There’s a ring there that wasn’t before. I find it doesn’t bother me at all. Instead, I sidestep, making way for Reine to enter the room properly.

“Mina?” Cate stands, her midnight black hair swaying around her with each step she takes. Hermes’s attention is back to Hecate as the goddess moves cautiously, as though seeing a ghost.

“Reine, actually. Not Mina,” she corrects. The alarm in Cate’s face as she whips her head back to me nails home that she can sense something off too. Her eyes search mine, dark pools of brown that anchor me. I open my mind’s eye and let her in. It’s quicker than wasting time explaining, and as she roots around inside the doors I leave open, I beg for her discretion until we know more.

Her full lips thin disapprovingly—take a number.

“Reine. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Cate,” she offers, extending her hand. The irony that I’m staring at two halves of my whole isn’t lost on me.

“Are you a vampyr or vampire?” Reine asks. Cate lets out a small chuckle and releases her hand.

“Neither. I’m a witch,” the goddess answers. I take a seat as Hermes makes himself comfortable once more. The lines in his body look relaxed, but I can see the small strains in his muscles, the effort it takes to keep his Converse-clad feet still. His eyes dart slowly around the room, calculating, as he takes in every detail. Cate leads Reine to the other couch and sits with her, causing me to drag my attention to them.

“Vladimir has caught me up on everything so far. I’d like to get your permission to check your memories for myself, if you’ll allow it? Perhaps we can see why you’ve got dreams and a face from the past,” Cate offers. Reine’s gaze catches mine nervously. I give an encouraging nod, hoping that the prospect of answers outweighs the fear of what that fucker did to her. Violating her mind, trapping her inside, those memories rise to the front of Reine’s consciousness—her apprehension is rife on the air.

“You won’t be trapped. It’s not the same as the thrall was,” I assure her. Relief washes across Reine’s face before she faces Cate.

“Okay.”

With a warm smile, Cate cradles Reine’s head, whispering incantations I can’t understand. Hermes leans in, eyes intent on his Bondmate, clocking every subtle movement between the two. Reine’s head falls back in tandem with Cate’s, the whites of their eyes exposed to the ceiling as power swells. The energy in the air ramps up around us. I focus on the ticks of the grandfather clock, grounding myself to time as the moments pass and the pressure builds.

A drop of perspiration forms at Cate’s temple as she whispers rapidly, digging around in Reine’s consciousness. Seconds turn to minutes, anxiety a heavy stone in my chest as we wait and wait. Hermes’s lips are turned down in a frown as he keeps his watch, ever vigilant of what Cate needs from her Consort.

A small whimper creeps past Reine’s lips.

My beast rages, instantly awoken and thrashing, demanding I get to her. I hold the reins tight, my knuckles turning white against the oak desk, splintering wood beneath my grip as Cate works. The goddess’s words grow louder, more demanding, causing Witch Wind to send papers and small objects flying around us all. Hermes stands but keeps his distance, his body vibrating as he no doubt feeds her power draw, just like I did for dozens of years.

I remind myself to trust Cate, to trust her power and empathy, but it’s only the quieting of Reine’s whimpers that soothes the raging inside of me. The Witch Wind subsides, causing objects in my study to clatter to the ground, but I don’t give a damn about anything else—only Reine. Her eyes roll back slowly, the light blues of her irises overtaking the white once more, and I let loose the grip on my chair. It’s a gentle comedown, but Cate’s shoulders slump and it’s an action I know well. She’s expended more energy than she’d accounted. She sways slightly, and in an instant Hermes is a blur, his body slipping against hers. She smiles dreamily as he steadies her movements, lowering her body back to the settee.

“What did you see?” I ask, unable to stop my impatience.

Cate’s eyes find mine. She shakes her head. “Her memories are buried, not implanted. Her body is as old as she claims, born of blood and bone, but this … is Mina. There are memories I couldn’t get to, a lock I couldn’t break, so I don’t know how. I taste old magic, different than mine, but powerful, Vladi.”

This is Mina.

“How can I be Mina if I’m Reine?” she asks, shaking out her dark hair. “Mina is dead, isn’t she?” I flinch at the memory that buckles through me at her words, swallowing back centuries of grief. “How can I be a dead woman?” A hurricane beats against my skull, decrying her words, but she just goes on. “How can I be dead, but now alive? Those paintings were from centuries ago. How can I be here now?”

Cate gives her a sympathetic look.