Fated Read online

  I’m realizing that I need to take back what is so wickedly being destroyed. Our people need a ruler now more than ever, and the stand-in has always been my brother. He’s younger but has reluctantly taken on the throne because I disowned it.

  Truthfully, I’ve always believed he was the better choice as King of our race. Nathanial has always been driven by his need to help and support others. He doesn’t discriminate whether you’re human, Angel, or Demon. He simply wants to provide for and save those that he can.

  A loud crack of thunder breaks me out of my thoughts as I round the gated entrance into our community. There is a storm approaching, nearly black skies grace us above and I can’t help but question whether this is a sign, a slight communication from those who are still observing from their rightful stations in Arcadia.

  This particular neighborhood has homes spaced farther apart, giving each owner a sense of privacy. Green lawns that have been manicured to perfection and large, full pine trees provide shelter and seclusion where we need it most. My brother lives on one far end of the community while I live on the other. I quickly pull into his circular driveway, parking in front of the large, elegant brick home nestled tightly against the trees behind.

  I open my door and race to the back seat, checking once again for Luna’s breathing. I rest my fingers gently against her throat, searching for a pulse. For a moment, I can’t find one and terrifying frustration overtakes my mind. I didn’t waste all this effort, all this time, as well as exposing myself for her not to survive this.

  But instantly, it’s as if her heart kicks a little harder, reassuring me and letting me know she’s still there, even if barely so. I quickly but gently lift her into my arms and race up the steps to my brother’s door. I kick it open immediately, refusing to spare even the short moments it would take for him to answer it. He’s already in the foyer, his eyes wide with confusion and apathy.

  “Please tell me you found this woman on the streets in the city, maybe behind a bar, or at a restaurant.” His eyes are pleading, he knows what I had to do to get her here.

  “I found her in the city. Maybe behind a bar or at a restaurant,” I deadpan as I step closer to him so he can look over her. His eyes never leave mine, but a flash of disappointment breaks through them.

  “Motherfucker. We’re fucked, you know that right?”

  “I don’t give a shit what we are. I need you to save her, Nathanial.” For a moment, we stand in silence as his gaze searches mine for the answers we both need. I don’t have them, and his understanding proves that he knows me better than anyone else. He turns on his heel and moves up the staircase to his study. I follow him closely, Luna still unconscious in my arms as my mind races with unanswered questions and impossible fears.

  I laid her down on the long, black leather couch that sits in the corner of the room. Nathanial is a doctor, the best I know on both human and the Angel race alike. If there is anyone who can help Luna, I knew immediately it would be him. He’s standing over her, checking her vitals and gathering the information he needs. He’s already closed the wound on her neck and the one on the back of her scalp, both which seemed detrimental to her survival. He forced me to sit still while he quickly stitched the knife wound on my own back, but I wouldn’t let him look into any of the other shallower injuries. His attention needs to focus strictly on Luna.

  I can tell that he’s tense, though not as much as I am. The lone fear lagging in my mind is that she is beyond saving. Her breaths are still shallow, but are now creating gravel-like sounds, as if there is liquid building in her lungs.

  “Hurry, brother,” I growl, pacing back and forth inside the small room. The ceiling is too low for my standards, as I stand slightly taller than Nate. For the most part, houses don’t usually accommodate my size well. I had to remodel most of my own home for it to fit my liking. Taller ceilings and larger furniture were a simple necessity for my space.

  “Elijah. I don’t know what I can do. She’s too far gone. I already closed the injuries that may have been fatal, but Amelia stole her spirit. She has no strength to fight the rest of the way back.” He won’t turn to face me as he speaks and I’m sure he’s already confused and unsure of my current state. If he’s going to tell me that there are no other options though, I need him to look me in the eyes.

  I knew exactly what Amelia was doing when she kissed Luna, her seductive touch equal parts both toxic and deceit. When an Angel falls, most manifest a certain ability, or strength amongst humans. Amelia’s ended up being the perfect weapon to use against others. With a simple kiss, she can absorb the very essence of your being, leaving you frail and nothing but a shell of your former existence.

  I round the couch so Nathanial and I are both standing on either side of Luna. I look down first, noticing the way her chest heaves and falls in short, quick bursts. Her skin has paled dramatically, and her lips are beginning to turn blue at the corners. My heart slams against my chest at the unfamiliar need rising within me to fix this.

  “Tell me again,” I say, forcing him to look me in the eyes.

  “There’s nothing I can do, brother.” He speaks the words quietly, meeting my gaze reluctantly with his soft amber eyes. I stare at him for just a moment, willing his phrase to change and for different words to leave his mouth. Turning around abruptly, I smash my fist into the wall behind us. My knuckles crack through the dry wall and leave reddened sores on my own hand, ones I barely comprehend in comparison to the emotions warring inside of me.

  “Elijah, why does she mean anything to you? Who is she?” he challenges, reminding me that I have no fucking idea why she means anything to me at all.

  I scrub my hand over my face, wracking my mind for another option. “I don’t know, Nate. I don’t fucking know. All I know, is that she can’t die. I can’t explain it, I don’t have answers for you.” I begin pacing the room again, realizing that we are running out of time quickly. My heart is beating erratically, my breaths beginning to mimic Luna’s and a chilling sweat has already broken out across my skin.

  The chalky sound of a cough bubbles up from Luna’s throat and my eyes dart back toward her. I move to her side immediately when I see the slight tinge of blood slip out from the corner of her mouth.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  There is another option, one I didn’t want to acknowledge because the thought of it sears through my blood furiously. I can’t do it, but I know the only person who can.

  “Bond with her,” I choke the words out of my own mouth. Nathanial’s head whips to me as shock lines his features.

  “No.” He speaks a single, simple word that fills me with undeniable rage towards him. If he refuses, I’ll hate him for letting her die. If he agrees, I’ll hate him for keeping her for the rest of our lives. There’s no winning in this situation, I realize that. And the fury builds in my stomach because of it.

  “Yes. It’s the only way she’ll survive Nathanial.”

  “Absolutely not. First, I have not chosen her for myself. Second, I am not bonding with someone that you so clearly care for. That would be torture, brother. How can you ask this of me?” Agitation and surprise lace his tone. Another break of thunder cracks around us. We’re getting closer to the end. I feel whatever is left of her leaking out of her own body and into the open air around us.

  “Do you think I want this? Believe me, I fucking don’t. She will learn to love you and you, her. I have asked nothing of you before now, I realize this is unfathomable. I will give you anything, brother.” I hate every single word as it leaves my dry mouth. I am asking him to give me everything, truthfully. I’m asking him to give up everything for a woman neither of us know. It doesn’t make sense and I fear it never will.

  He watches me in silence as I see his mind turning over every single possible alternative route to change this. I know what he wants to demand, I see it working to the forefront of his mind.

  Don’t say it, don’t even fucking think it.

  “You bond with her,” he st
ates clearly.

  “I can’t and you know this,” I refuse, plainly and simply. I’ve refused for seven years now and I will not place myself back into that position again. Creating a bond and living with one is distressing enough when both partners are not devoted to the other. But severing a bond? It’s a miracle when an Angel survives it. Nothing compares to the excruciating pain of literally tearing your other half from your body.

  I would never be able to give her what she needed out of this kind of commitment, because I simply don’t want to. Nathanial would. He may struggle at first, but he would, and she would love him the same.

  “You can, but you choose not to. If I do this, you cannot hold it against me for the years to come. You will have to live with this decision and know that it was you who demanded it of me,” he states his terms and even though I know I will not be able to truthfully adhere to them I nod a quick approval if it means saving Luna’s life.

  He looks disappointed at my agreeance but sits on the edge of the couch next to her and takes her wrist in his larger hand. My brother and I have similar builds, both wider and taller than our fellow Angels. We come from the Seraphim line and while there aren’t many of our precise kind left, we stand out amongst the others. It’s another reason why our ancestral line was chosen to bear the throne.

  I watch as he removes a small, thin blade from his brown leather bag on the floor near his feet and places it gently against her soft, milky skin. A thread of tension begins pulling in my chest, mildly at first but wrenches tighter as he drags the blade down her wrist in a shallow cut, just enough to draw a bit of blood and then flips his own arm to do the same to himself.

  Briefly, I consider telling him about her blooded roots, but impulsively decide against it in case it changes his mind to follow through with this. It’s a selfish decision, but I never claimed not to be a greedy asshole. He slowly slices his own wrist, applying pressure against his skin to draw a clear line of blood. I feel a lump building in my chest and working its way up my throat as I watch him flip his wrist over and place it atop hers, aligning their wounds and integrating their bloodlines.

  Even the smallest act of watching them bleeding together affects me. If I could just understand why this matters, I could control it to my own benefit. The lack of answers is gnawing at my bones and eating away at my mind. I’m plagued with such desire and without any understanding at all.

  I shut my eyes, refusing to watch as the words of our people are whispered out of his lips. It’s a language I haven’t heard spoken in years, Enochian. I intentionally avoided using our native tongue when we Fell, severing just another reminder of the place that shunned us for such absurd reasons.

  He speaks quietly, and pain laces his voice as each word is spoken. We’re both hurting with this choice, surprisingly so, and I wish I could understand why that was the case.

  I wait anxiously, listening for the sound of her breathing to level out and any sign that his blood is working to heal her. But nothing comes, in fact her breath continues its rough and ragged pace. When I open my eyes, I notice how both of their bloods have dripped and slid down her wrist, mingling but not connecting in the way that the blood bond should trigger.

  “What’s going on?” I ask in frustration. We’re lucky she’s even survived this long.

  “I’m not sure. But she isn’t accepting the bond. I can’t do anything if she won’t receive it, Elijah.” He pauses for a moment, clearly searching for the answers in this circumstance. “Leave the room,” he states.

  “No, absolutely not.” My head darts toward him as I process what he demands of me. He must be a fucking idiot if he thinks I’ll leave her here while she’s dying.

  “Yes, her blood may not be able to accept the bond with you so near.” He doesn’t look at me as he says this, as if he’s revealing something I should understand. It shouldn’t matter who is around for the blood bond to be initiated and completed.

  “I’m not leaving, Nathanial. She doesn’t know me. My presence means nothing in this moment.” I plant my feet firmly next to him, crossing my thick arms across my chest and refusing to move.

  Finally, he turns to look at me before speaking. “She may not know you, but her blood might. If you both are Fated, she could never bond with me while you are near.”

  I watch him for a moment, silent tension building around us at his revelation. It makes no sense, in fact, it’s impossible. “No. There hasn’t been a Fated couple in decades. That cannot be the case here,” I state the words logically, briefly remembering Amelia’s comment about Archophys and Estera. If they were Fated, they would be the first in nearly eighty years.

  In my gut however, I feel a spark of acceptance at this possibility. It would explain why I’m so drawn to her without knowing a damn thing about her. It would explain why I can’t seem to pry my body away from hers while she’s so near death. But it has been decades since a Fated couple emerged from our race.

  At one point, the Fated were rulers and warriors of the Fallen. They were ideal monarchs because their abilities were enhanced, or new abilities resurfaced when paired with their other halves. They were difficult to kill because one partner could heal and protect the other from nearly every injury and vice versa. They protected our race and served with strength, dignity and passion. There was a myth that each Angel had a Fated partner, but they were nearly impossible to find, so it was rare when couplings emerged.

  Suffice to say, a Fated couple contained an innate connection that ran even deeper than the blood bond. Something eternally and infinitely ingrained into the soul, not simply the DNA. They say it was His way of giving us one last gift, even after we Fell and were disavowed from Arcadia.

  Once the Demonic realm realized the bond between the Fated was indestructible, they began separating couples and killing them off, one by one. Throughout the years, the Fated had to go into hiding, removing themselves from the positions within our court and unable to show themselves at the Capital for fear of destruction. That was when the Seraphim Angel’s began ruling over our kind and our ancestral family sat at the throne.

  Eventually, even the Fated in hiding were found and slaughtered. Soon enough, it became even more rare that a Fated couple ever emerged, and if they did, they were quickly killed until there weren’t any left again. Since those attacks so many years ago, we haven’t seen another Fated come forward.

  “Leave the room, Elijah.” His harsh words cut through my mind as I turn and stalk out. I don’t go far, I round the door and stand outside in the hallway, listening to every ragged breath she takes. In and out. In and out. Quiet, bitter sounds lace her soft voice and it cuts me to the bones not to be nearer. I’m torn equally between innately needing to be close to her and never wanting to see her again.

  It’s an ironic punishment truthfully, handing me my Fated when there is no way I would ever accept her.

  Fucking Hell.

  Or Heaven, actually. Fucking Heaven.

  Silence.

  More fucking silence as I stand out here and wait for my brother’s voice, or more painfully, Luna’s.

  “Anything, Nathanial? Anyfuckingthing?” I growl through the thinly plastered wall separating us.

  A beat before he answers, “No. She’s not accepting me. There’s nothing I can do now.” His voice is resigned, succumbed to the fact that this is how she will end. I step forward and dart back into the room in order to see for myself. Once I reach them, I crouch down on my knees, hesitantly lifting my hand to her wrist in order to examine their connection.

  I lay my large, calloused fingers against her soft skin and a sharp jolt of pain hits my chest when the slick coldness of her body reaches mine. It seeps into my skin slightly, and I know if we were bonded how much more I would feel her distress, her pain, the icy chill of her body letting go.

  My thumb brushes against her blood and I have to shut my eyes as the slick heat inoculates my own, sending rushing waves of fear, pain, and attraction all flowing through me. No doubt her
own emotions over the last twenty-four hours. The fact that I alone, can feel this through the simple act of stroking her blood tells me that Nathanial is right.

  She has to be my Fated.

  Instantly, my brother rips my hand away from Luna’s wrist and turns it towards himself. He eyes my hand curiously, realizing now how her blood has turned into a deep black against my skin. He flips his own wrist, scrutinizing her blood on his skin as well for the same characteristic.

  His eyes dart towards mine, accusation simmering in this iris’s, “What is this?”

  I briefly consider telling him that she possibly has the blood of both an Angel and a Demon running through her veins if what Amelia claimed is correct. But I choose to ignore him as Luna begins violently coughing once again. For reasons unfamiliar to me, I know deep in the pit of my stomach that this is the end for her. I feel her essence escaping her body with each passing second.

  Without warning or control, I greedily take Nathanial’s blade and roughly cut down my own wrist, uncaring to make it clean or shallow. I flip my arm over and force it on top of hers as I quickly speak the words that should trigger our bond.

  “Ol, Elijah, Seraphim Angel c Arcadia, allar ol cnila de yours g sibsi.

  Ol darbs de a etharzi c ge congamphlgh ca el.”

  I speak the Enochian words that uncomfortably scrape against my throat on the way out. I hate this connection to our past lives. I’ve worked to build a completely separate and new existence here on Earth since I Fell. But I say them anyway, declaring them to our blood and claiming the bond for ourselves.

  At first, nothing happens. My own blood simply coats her arm and creates a red wave against her stomach where both our arms are stiffly resting. I close my eyes, dropping my forehead to lay on her shoulder as I chant the words like they’re the last prayer I could ever surrender. I’m warring internally with what I’m allowing and what I never wanted to experience again. But the choice was taken from me the moment I set foot in Amelia’s mansion tonight and felt the need pulling me under.