Triskele (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Triskele

  The TriAlpha Chronicles: Book Two

  Serena Akeroyd

  The right of Gemma Mazurke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author.

  Copyright © Gemma Mazurke 2018

  Cover Design by Emmy @ Studioenp

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  WEBSITE

  FACEBOOK

  TWITTER

  MAILING LIST

  Table of Contents

  Triskele 1

  The Void 5

  1 12

  2 16

  3 38

  4 66

  5 78

  6 100

  7 120

  8 178

  9 197

  10 220

  11 228

  12 252

  13 279

  14 297

  15 311

  16 328

  TO BE CONTINUED… 340

  The Void

  Crooning a soft song, Terra stroked Caelus’s hair back from his forehead. “She’ll be okay.”

  “That bastard,” he gritted out, tension filling his body until he was a rigid weight beside her.

  Aer and Mare, playing chess by the balcony doors that led to the Void, froze. The shuffling sounds of the marble pieces came to a halt at Caelus’s statement.

  “I don’t know why you’re stressing so much,” Mare murmured, as calm as ever.

  Terra peered over at him, and had to hide a smile. He was naked, of course. The man was an exhibitionist bar none, and rarely wore clothes in their quarters unless attire was imperative… which it wasn’t.

  Not that she was about to complain.

  Terra might have been with Aer, Mare, and Caelus since the beginning of time, but those asses?

  A woman, not even a Goddess, could get tired of those buns.

  With his stomach as hard as the marble in his hand, Terra licked her lips at the sight of his cock which was stirring under her gaze. Her eyes flickered up to his and she saw his cheeky grin. Unable to quell her own, she winked, and turned her attention back to Caelus.

  He felt more than any of her lovers.

  He was of the Cosmos. Aer was of the air and Mare of the sea. They were grounded, they had form. They had somewhere to vent their emotions, and as a result, were far calmer, far more at peace. Caelus didn’t have that, and his emotions were usually as volatile as could be. She’d taken it as her duty to soothe him, to give him succor. When she didn’t, well, volcanoes tended to erupt and comets and asteroids appeared far too close to Terra’s land.

  Not just for Caelus’s sake did she try to soothe him, but for their children on Earth as well.

  She rubbed his temples, then bent over to press a kiss to his forehead. “She will be well,” she told him, as she’d told him a thousand times since this had begun.

  “How can you say that?” he demanded, sitting up and slouching forward. He rested his forearms on his knees, curving his back in a way that showed her all the delineated muscles along his spine.

  “I say that because I have faith.”

  “I have faith too.”

  “No, you don’t,” she countered gently, lips twitching at the pout in his voice. “Thalia is our child, Caelus. I understand that you fear for her more than most…”

  Caelus peered at her over his shoulder. “They’re all our children.”

  She smiled at him, it was a soft smile, a tender one. “No. Not like her, and you know that. That is why you fear for her most.”

  He heaved a sigh and faced forward once more. “She is in your image. It is hard not to be protective.”

  Yes, Thalia was.

  Even Goddesses could be surprised, when Thalia had reached adulthood, her features maturing, Terra saw herself in the girl. They were mirror images. It had been disconcerting to say the least, and was proof that even creatures as powerful as they, did not hold all the cards.

  The Fates, those naughty minxes, could throw their hand in from time to time and shake things up.

  “She handled the Beta, didn’t she?” Aer inserted gruffly. “What’s to worry about?”

  “You know full well she’ll have to take on more than a Beta—”

  Terra placed her hand on his back. “Less of this. By the time she faces those struggles, she will be stronger. We all know what will happen when she claims her mates.”

  Aer cleared his throat. “Isaura made a sacrifice the other day.”

  Now, the tension plaguing Caelus filled her. “I’ve told you not to speak her name to me.”

  Aer’s sigh was deep. “She begs for mercy for her people.”

  “I gave them mercy. They must live with their mistakes.”

  “You say that like you haven’t sent their redemption to them,” Mare pointed out, flinging his legs out as he turned his chair slightly, his focus shifting from the chessboard to her.

  Even the sight of his legs, so thick and brawny, his cock, so delicious and so perfect for her, couldn’t ease the misery in her belly. “They are fortunate I am giving them Thalia.”

  “Even with her, that wouldn’t be enough for Isaura. You know this,” Aer pointed out softly. “You can’t blame them all for Morningstar.”

  “Can’t I?” she countered, the bitterness making her own ears sting. She sliced a hand in front of her. “Enough. I don’t wish to talk about this any longer.”

  Caelus shuffled around, letting her see his pained eyes and his shaggy hair, which was more tousled than usual thanks to the way she’d been playing with it. “Isaura’s son will be Thalia’s mate, Terra. Think you not that it would be prudent to break bread? Isaura is territorial. You know this.”

  “It is to her detriment if she is so,” Terra retorted blandly. “I have given Thalia the tools she requires to achieve our goals. She can take on Isaura.”

  Mare shook his head. “We all know we can’t take the Fates out of the equation.”

  That made Terra stiffen, for he was not wrong. Their will carried weight in the grand scheme of the universe. Nothing happened without her or her lovers’ touch, however, the Fates tended to twist things. If Terra planned for something, or someone, to reach point A, then the Fates saw to it that Terra’s plan would be successful, but only after point D and E had been reached first.

  “Informing Isaura of Thalia’s existence might make things easier on the girl,” Aer reasoned, his tone as calm as a gentle summer breeze.

  “If things are too easy, you and I both know the people will not respect Thalia. I will not have my daughter being disrespected among those lesser than her.” Terra clenched her jaw. “I am resolute in this. She will strengthen further when she is claimed. Whatever the mischief the Fates make, it will be character building
.”

  Mare snorted. “Character building? We all know we never intended for Thalia to be exiled. How much more character does she need to build?”

  Terra winced. He wasn’t wrong. Terra hadn’t foreseen the treatment her child would receive from those who bore her.

  Lifting a hand to her temple, she murmured, “I need to rest.”

  Mare shot her a knowing look. “Sex won’t make you forget what’s happening.”

  Caelus grunted. “I can concur with that. I’m scared for her, Terra. What if she doesn’t survive?”

  “She will survive. She is born from our bone, Caelus. We have to have faith,” she repeated staunchly.

  When her males just looked at her, their disagreement evident on their faces—Aer’s expression was doubtful, Mare’s mocking, and Caelus’s agitated— she got to her feet in a puddle of linen as her toga righted itself. Striding over to the terrace that overlooked the Void, she ignored their murmurs as she stepped out.

  Ahead, Caelus’s domain glittered and sparked. The Cosmos was beautiful with its gassy clouds that sparkled pink overhead. It tinged the ground and the land beneath with those hues, morphing the great oceans that were Mare’s territory, and the sky that was Aer’s, from blue to purple.

  The abyss between the Void and Earth was where Terra’s first-born lived. They were her greatest weakness, her biggest mistake.

  As she watched them fly around, unaware of her attention, she focused on the temple where Isaura and her mate, Kade, resided.

  One day, Thalia would usurp Isaura. But as Mare had commented, the Fates had a habit of muddling things. While Terra felt certain Thalia would take Isaura’s place, she had no idea when and she had no further clue as to how much blood would be shed in the process.

  Nor did she know if Thalia, though strong enough to oppose Isaura’s rule, would survive it.

  Being capable of usurping and being well enough to claim such a seat were two separate things entirely.

  Stomach churning with some of the anxiety Caelus was feeling, she shifted her focus from the abyss and onto Earth itself.

  As always when she viewed the noxious gases that polluted the air, she sighed angrily.

  Why couldn’t any of her children accept her gifts and cherish them?

  Why did they always destroy something she bestowed upon them with love?

  Tears pricked her eyes at the thought, and when her mates clustered around her, she felt not only their love but also the effects of their proximity.

  Now Aer was close, the sky shone brighter. Terra saw more gases, more pollution. She saw the glinting of too many airplanes, and the spaces in the atmosphere where heat leaked.

  Mare’s presence highlighted the refuse in the oceans. The dying sea creatures, the rising sea levels.

  She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain they suffered from their domain being so contaminated.

  Caelus, thank the Void, did not suffer with such worries, and for that she was grateful. He was strong, but his volatility would have had him punishing those who perpetuated the damage on Earth. Sometimes, she wondered what the children would have to do to anger Mare and Aer into such action—punishment was approaching, that she knew. Terra just didn’t know when or what would occur as a result.

  Mare slid his arm around her waist and tugged her into his side. Aer, crossing his over Mare’s, mimicked the pose so she was tucked tightly between them.

  “Where is Caelus?” she asked quietly, tears still falling.

  Aer pressed a kiss to her temple, and with a gentle finger, traced the path of a teardrop. She watched as he gathered it on the tip, studied it a second, then flung it off the balcony, down to the abyss and through to Earth.

  Within seconds, the scene below changed. Rain stirred, wind gathered, and a storm was born.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly, nuzzling into him as a great clap of thunder boomed through the air.

  “Aye, I did. And Caelus is bathing,” he informed her quietly.

  The three of them watched the children beneath them scurry in the rain.

  At the back of her mind, she heard their prayers—rain only fell in the abyss when Aer wanted it to, so they knew they were being punished for something, they just didn’t know what.

  She shoved the mumbles aside as she’d done for millennia now, and focused on a tiny town on Earth. It was called Austin, and it was there where the child of her and her mates’ bones slept.

  With a shaky hand, she pressed a kiss to her lips and blew it over the balcony, into the abyss as Aer had.

  She watched as Thalia stirred in her sleep and clutched tighter to her mate.

  “Blessed be, child,” she whispered, then ceased watching.

  No good would come of her hovering.

  What would be, would be, and there was nothing Terra could do now to alter the path Thalia was set on.

  1

  Theodore

  Theodore Sidhe tossed back the whiskey and didn’t so much as grimace at the burn. As many years as he’d been walking this earth, the scorch of ripe alcohol no longer had that much of an effect on him.

  If anything, it was no longer there at all, and at times like these, that saddened him greatly.

  There were some days when that burn at the back of the throat was all that could get a man through to tomorrow, and Theo had lost such an ability a thousand or more years ago.

  Truth was, he’d forgotten many things over the millennia.

  A man lived as long as he did, he didn’t remember the inanities. Hell, it was hard enough remembering the good stuff, the downright evil stuff, but the petty nonsense?

  No, that managed to bury itself in the past without a handful of help from him.

  Still, he liked to think the whiskey soothed his gut at moments such as these. Times where a prophecy he’d never imagined being answered was in the throes of coming to fruition.

  Major times like that.

  Where worlds that had always lived seamlessly side by side suddenly collided, and only a handful of folk such as he were even aware of the quake that such a collision had caused.

  Small shit, he thought wryly.

  He rubbed his chin, hearing as well as feeling the scrape of stubble against his palm. The raspy sound wasn’t pleasant to the ear but it was a reminder.

  A reminder he’d have to shave.

  He’d have to look his best, after all.

  No daughter of a prophecy would accept a messenger looking as shoddy as he did at the moment.

  Trouble was, Theo didn’t have a razor.

  Hadn’t had a razor since Brian’s heart attack. Hadn’t shaved since the day before Brian had left him forever, and the beard he was sporting was the longest he’d ever let it grow. Down to his chest it was now. Full of shit and stinking to high heaven. Knotted and gnarled, just like him.

  In fact, the beard was the only sign of Theo’s distress. It was his rebellion. Beneath the beard, his glamour worked as it always did. Made him look handsome, beautiful, even pretty… whatever the person looking upon him liked in a man, that was what they saw. The light green eyes, the pure gold of coloring.

  Only the beard got in the way of the magic intrinsic to his kind. His hair too, but he kept the long tangled mess in a bun, and for some stupid reason the women of today seemed to like this thing they called a ‘man bun.’

  In fact, he’d had a few women approach him saying they liked his ‘lumberjack’ look.

  His grief-stricken rebellion was apparently a trend now.

  This feckin’ world was on its knees, Theo thought with a grimace, even as he kept his eyes trained on the screen.

  Pouring himself another drink, he swilled the whiskey about his teeth. How he wished to feel the dull ache of nothingness. How he wished he could ignore what was happening right in front of him.

  But, and he let out a bone rattling sigh, he couldn’t.

  Instead, the future was beckoning him in the form of a small lass, barely five feet of noth
ing, whooping some bastard’s ass.

  The footage had gone live on the web an hour ago.

  The Internet was a miraculous thing. And coming from a Fae, that was high praise indeed.

  He dealt in what humans considered magic. Could wield it himself, and yet the Internet was a human construct, and more magical than most things he’d imagined the mundanes capable of.

  Because of it, there was the Supra Web. Criminals had the Dark Web, normal folk had sites like Wikipedia and Facebook, but supernaturals had the Supra Web.

  A secure server for the billions of myriad supernaturals to log onto, to communicate, to connect.

  Never before had there been such connectivity between the many species. And though normally he wouldn’t have approved, at that moment, as he watched the daughter of the leaders of the North American Pack kill a Beta in the name of justice, he was inordinately grateful.

  She was the one he’d been sent to find. The one he’d forever doubted would arrive. The one who’d taken her sweet time to show up. Yet, here she was.

  Thalia Lyndhoven.

  His journey, so long in the making, was finally about to begin, and he’d found her because of the Internet.

  Maybe the mundanes weren’t so stupid after all.

  Then he thought about global warming, believers of ‘Adam and Eve – not Adam and Steve,’ and the gazillion tons of plastic polluting the oceans…

  Yeah, they were still stupid.

  2

  Mikkel

  He’d never understood the whole fated mate shit.

  Even though he’d watched his mother succumb to it, and even though he’d watched her happiness expand over the years—and despite the number of pups she had, her ass had never expanded with it thanks to some kind of Lyken voodoo—he still wasn’t sure if he understood it.

  But then, Mikkel wasn’t the kind of guy to appreciate fate.

  For a soldier, the notion that someone, somewhere, controlled his destiny, wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

  He wanted to know that his strengths, his training, his abilities would be what pushed him through the toughest of times. The hardest of missions. A man made his own luck, after all.