Trierna (The TriAlpha Chronicles Book 5) Page 2

  “You aborted my fated!” The scream of outrage faded into a shriek of mourning.

  For a second, she found herself pitying the man. Found herself, crazily enough, wondering what it would be like to know that Theo had been killed before she’d ever had a chance to meet him.

  Before she’d ever had a chance to be his and to make him hers.

  Her heart about broke. Theo was difficult. He was secretive, guarded, and found it impossible to share. But she only knew all that because she’d had time to learn the little she had on him.

  In Morningstar’s position, he had nothing to glean from his fated. Had only had time to hope and pray for the miracle of his mate to restore him to, what he believed, was his righteous place. And, it was that thought that made her pity die.

  Because to this bastard, her beloved daughter was nothing more than a means to an end. A way of righting a wrong he’d reaped thousands of years ago.

  Theo’s hand grabbed hers and he squeezed hard. Why? She wasn’t sure. She turned to look at him, saw there was an urgency on his sweating face.

  Thalia reached up and, with her free hand, swiped at her own drenched brow.

  “He thinks she’s dead,” Theo mouthed. “Let’s leave it like that.”

  Pondering his words, she swallowed, taken with the notion herself. But . . . .

  She sucked down a sharp breath. “I can’t. That’s not how we should do this.”

  He scowled. “What? Why?”

  “Terra has plans. I can’t disobey them.” She bit her lip as temptation swirled inside her. Then, as she realized this was how the Dark Fae worked, using temptation to urge people away from the path they knew to be right, she called out, “I did not abort my child.”

  She had no idea what Morningstar and his generals, his Legios, had been doing. The wall of fire was so all-encompassing, she couldn’t even see through it to gauge the other Faes’ behavior, to monitor his reaction. But she sensed he calmed. She felt it because the energy in the air no longer seemed turbulent.

  With her words, it was suddenly easier to breathe.

  And that had nothing to do with Rafe’s machinations, either. His fire was smokeless. Unfortunately for them, it just wasn’t ‘heatless.’

  “She is born?” Those three words held such joy, Thalia’s throat clutched.

  He is not like Theo. He is not like Theo, she chanted in her mind, trying to ignore the wave of pure delight her news had inspired in the male.

  “I will not harm you,” he murmured, his tone shifting from furious to benevolent. But the words had her narrowing her eyes and wishing she could melt him with her own anger. “You are the parents of my fated. It is my boon to her—”

  “So generous,” Mikkel snarled, speaking before she could. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. You can’t hurt us for shit anyway. You’d have to get to us first.”

  Thalia grimaced at the threat. Mikkel always had been aggravatingly cocksure. But to actively provoke the Devil himself? She had to shake her head at him.

  Apparently, her Ouroboros mate had a death wish.

  And, in this instance, the only person supposed to be dying today was on the other side of the fire.

  “Raphael’s flame is Vulcun’s,” Theo called out, his voice equally as strident as he squeezed her fingers. “Not even you can break through that.”

  She turned to Theo with a frown, wondering if he was lying, then she quirked her brow in question when he remained expressionless. Theo just shrugged, informing her with that minute gesture that he’d just lied to the Master of Deception.

  With her free hand, she rubbed her brow again where more sweat had gathered. Even as she wiped it, she felt her pores leak again. Seriously, why weren’t they melting?

  Because she was joined to Rafe? And through her, Mikkel and Theo were, too?

  Uncertainty whipped like a tornado through her body as she contemplated her next move. The words she spoke could change the destiny of billions, and at that moment, she felt like the Devil really was strangling her.

  “Morningstar, I have word from Terra,” she choked out.

  Was she being chicken shit? Or was she just protecting what was hers? Theo obviously wanted to retreat, Rafe was defending, and Mikkel was the aggressor.

  She literally was the deciding factor over their next move, dammit.

  All she knew was that Rafe couldn’t withstand this kind of energy drain forever, and he’d obviously decided they were in danger, so pacifying Morningstar had to be on the top of her agenda, didn’t it?

  They could try to drag him to Trierna by force, or they could just have him walk through the gates.

  What did the humans say?

  That a person could catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

  It just sucked ass that her daughter was the honey in this particular scenario.

  “Terra?”

  She heard the uncertainty in Morningstar’s voice, and knew that wasn’t something that happened often. The bastard was far too self-assured for any of their good.

  “Yes. The Goddess. Your Mother,” she retorted sarcastically. What? Did he need a freakin’ reminder?

  “What did she want?” he asked, and for the life of her, she had to stop herself from shaking her head.

  He sounded like a moody teenager who’d been told off by his mom.

  Was this Morningstar’s rebellious phase?

  Gods forbid.

  She rolled her eyes, safe in the knowledge he couldn’t see her. “She wishes me to take you to Trierna.”

  “Trierna?”

  A sudden swirl of voices sprang up as Morningstar’s Legios began talking among themselves, speaking over one another in their haste.

  “It’s a trap!”

  “Don’t trust her.”

  “Look, the Dark One protects them with the Lord’s flames. None of them are to be trusted.”

  But the Devil scythed through the words with his roaring demand for, “Quiet!” Then, after a moment’s pause, he asked softly, “Raphael, please, lower the flames. I can vow that I promise you no harm.”

  Thalia’s nostrils flared at the sincerity in the male’s voice—but, she’d called it herself. He was the Master of Deception.

  They’d be a fool to forget that, and Rafe was no fool.

  His newly awakened changeling instincts had found a threat among the Dark Fae gathered around them, and he’d responded with this protective circle.

  “I have no desire to hurt you. My fated would never forgive me.”

  That was probably the best and the worst thing he could have said.

  The best because they had to hope he was right.

  The worst because it was an unpleasant reminder that Morningstar was a part of the fucking family. Wouldn’t that be an awkward meal come Thanksgiving?

  At her side, Theo and Mikkel flinched, their disgust at the truth in his words evident. But Rafe? He didn’t respond at all. If anything, he was . . . .

  Thalia frowned and dropped to her knees at his side. As she stared at him, she saw the sweat pouring from him, but as she stared down at his hands, saw the way he’d dug them into the broken rivulets of tarmac that lined the highway, witnessed the silvery flames for herself as they poured straight from his fingers as though the tips were lighters, she found herself floored by the sight.

  How long had he had this ability?

  Was it new? Something triggered by Morningstar’s presence? Or had he been keeping it from her?

  Even as she thought that, she knew that was the case. He’d known the flames would make an appearance, after all. When he’d dropped to the ground, it was with the cognizance of how he was going to protect them . . . .

  Sweet gods, when were her mates going to realize that keeping her in the dark was keeping them all in the dark?

  “Enough,” she bit off, anger making her tone bitter. “I’ll have no more secrets from any of you, do you hear me?” she ground out, whipping her head around to glower at Theo. “You and Rafe are ge
tting as bad as each other for withholding things from us. I never thought I’d ever consider Mikkel a ‘sharer’ but he’s a choir boy in comparison to you two.”

  Mikkel growled at that. “I’m not a fucking choir boy.”

  She huffed, shot him a withering look, “I was complimenting you.”

  “Well, come up with better compliments,” he retorted, then, despite the situation, amused the shit out of her by tugging at his shirt collar and grumbling, “Fucking choir boy.”

  Her outburst had forced Rafe’s eyes open at least, and then, as she looked at him, really looked at him, she saw the strangest lines on his face.

  Peering at him, she reached up and traced the . . . . What were they? Sigils? Runes? She hadn’t seen anything like them outside of movies. They were half hieroglyphs, she guessed, recognizing the shapes from books, but they were skewed. There was no imagery like with the ancient Egyptian alphabet, no shapes that told a story. These were more like . . . equations? Geometry?

  But surely not.

  She thought she recognized the ‘square root’ symbol, but it might not have been. Could just be a twisted form of that particular shape.

  “What are these?” she asked under her breath.

  “What’s what?” he asked, his voice hoarse, and she had her proof then that he was tiring.

  How couldn’t he be?

  Sweet gods, to maintain this level of power had to be incredibly draining.

  “You’ve some kind of . . . .”

  “We’ve seen them before,” Mikkel blurted out as he dropped to his knees beside her. “Only twice. They pop up when he has sex.”

  Theo pressed a hand to her shoulder after he approached her, too, caution in each step. “I spoke with Mother about them. They speak of his abilities.”

  “In what language?” she asked.

  “Vulcun’s.”

  Her eyes flared at that, but before she could reply, Morningstar released a growl worthy of a hound from hell then yelled, “You speak of Terra and then fall silent on the subject. Mother-in-law, I hate to be cliché, but speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  Thalia’s nostrils flared in irritation. She turned to look up at Theo. “Later.”

  He grimaced. “Later.”

  The confirmation had her shaking her head—how many damn ‘laters’ would there be before he fucking learned? Thalia didn’t say that, didn’t even deign to look at him again, instead she turned back to Rafe and muttered, “Sweetheart, you can’t hold this forever.”

  “I can until Theo gets us out of here,” he whispered, the strain he was under quite evident. She hated the hoarse huskiness of the words that spoke of his fatigue.

  “No. We have to deal with this. We have to deal with him.” She’d only summarized her conversation with Terra, but maybe she hadn’t imbued how imperative it was that Morningstar returned to Trierna.

  “They’re dangerous,” he whispered, and then he stunned her further because, when he turned to her, his eyes were bright red. They made bloodshot look diamond white. “They mean us harm, and I will die to protect you.”

  2

  Rafe

  The rage in his veins was like a volcanic eruption. It reminded him of, days before, when he’d been in the TriAlpha’s yard. When fire had first sputtered free from his hands, relieving a fury that had been bubbling inside him since he’d murdered Bellatrix, the changeling who had destroyed Thalia’s life, who had turned parent against child, and pack against their future leader.

  Now?

  By comparison?

  This was a thousand times worse.

  He could feel the energy drain, recognized that it was going to suck when it finally hit him, but until he knew Thalia was safe, he couldn’t seem to stop the flames from burning. Couldn’t seem to . . . . Control was as far from his reach now as it had been back when Torres had kicked the shit out of him.

  The irony, of course, was that now he had the means to defend himself, just not the restraint.

  “Rafe? I need you to be safe as much as you need me to be safe. Remember, my love, we’re tied.”

  He knew that. Logically, he did. The minute he passed away, the others would too. It was how a mate bond worked with a Lyken, and though he wasn’t one anymore, that didn’t mean Thalia wasn’t.

  Mikkel, too, come to think of it.

  Mate bonds were forever.

  If he died, Thalia would. And if anything happened to Thalia, Mikkel and Theo would pass over as well.

  The energy sapped from him at that point, because, and he knew this like his name was Raphael, he would let the flames burn until it took the very last of his power.

  Until it robbed him from this plane of existence if it meant protecting her from a fate worse than death.

  “Live for me, sweetheart,” Thalia was crooning, her hands stroking over his hair, coming to rub the back of his neck where his muscles were tensed and bunched.

  A shiver wracked him as he fought the wrath consuming him. The rage would kill him, them, before Morningstar ever got a chance to if he didn’t stop this madness now.

  The force began to sputter out as he dragged himself from the pit in his soul where the fire seemed to find its source.

  It wasn’t endless, that he knew. But he didn’t know where it came from, either, didn’t know what, if anything, could replenish it.

  This ability had, after all, made an appearance the other day. Just as many of his other abilities had.

  His confusion and exhaustion had the fire further dying out, and as it did, the walls around them began to lower, thinning out until they could see the gathering before them.

  The Dark Fae, however, weren’t focused on them.

  That helped.

  Rafe knew if he’d seen any of them looking at him askance, then he’d have been unable to stop the fire from soaring once more. But the Fallen were focused elsewhere, and they were arguing.

  Or, Rafe realized, the Legios were arguing among themselves while Morningstar watched on. Their bodies shrieked of their fear, their arms flying out as they pushed into each other like children on the playground, but the Devil’s stance was relaxed. Rafe sensed the falseness of his calm state, however. How could he be anything other than tense and hyped up over the prospect of Terra speaking to Thalia of him?

  For as long as Morningstar had been exiled from Heden, he’d been trying to get back. To go home.

  It was, Rafe thought, pitiful really.

  The male had left the gates of his home, seeking another kingdom to explore, to make his own, and instead, he’d been locked out of the only place he’d known.

  Still, he couldn’t feel too much pity for the bastard. How much of mankind’s suffering rested at this creature’s door?

  If he hadn’t fallen, no one would have ever experienced evil or hate.

  But, equally, if he hadn’t fallen, humans and Lykens wouldn’t exist.

  The philosophical debate rubbed his mind raw. Now wasn’t the time to feel guilty or, Caelus help him, sorry for the bastard when he had his sights fixed firmly on Rafe’s newborn daughter.

  Thalia reached for his hand and, squeezing his fingers, made to stand. She tugged him with her, and as she did, the wing closest to him fluttered and curved around him, tucking him in the cocoon of white feathers tipped with molten gold.

  As he stared at Morningstar’s wings, the color one that matched his mate’s, he blurted out, “What are you? What can Seraphim do?”

  The Legios sputtered to a halt at his question. Probably startled at the prospect of him speaking out of turn. But Morningstar just tilted his head to the side. “Seraphim are special,” was all he said. Then, when Rafe tensed his jaw at the lackluster response, the Devil murmured, “In my body, in my bone and blood, there are the five elements. That gives me certain gifts.”

  Rafe stiffened at that. What had Ragnor, Mikkel’s father, told them when they’d met with him? That Serafina was born of the five elements.

  Theo’s affinity to air and
water, Thalia’s to the earth, Rafe’s to fire, and Mikkel’s to the final element, the Cosmos, made her unique.

  Or so they’d thought.

  Not by a twitch of his brow did he let any of the sudden surge of terror show on his face, but he didn’t have to. Morningstar sensed it anyway. His smile was so self-satisfied, Rafe wanted to ram the bastard in the belly.

  “Yes. Just as the child has,” Morningstar half-purred, then he looked away a second, his gaze scanning over the environs as he let out a whistle. “I should have realized she’d been born.”

  Thalia croaked out, “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Seraphim contain more power than any of you can understand.” He fluttered his wings, making all three sets wriggle, the feathers turning and tilting as though they had a mind of their own. “We’re called the burning ones for a reason. We are bringers of light, of power. That’s why this happened.” He swept out a hand. “This was not my doing. Nor my people’s.”

  Theo growled out, “And we should believe your lies, why?”

  He snorted. “This is no lie. Why would I lie to you? I speak the truth. Did you think I had the power to return my wings to us? If I’d had it from the beginning, I’d never have done as Vulcun commanded.” His voice turned low, almost into a growl as he spoke the Dark God’s name aloud.

  “What did Serafina do?” Thalia asked, her words husky, but Rafe sensed her fear, her trepidation. She clutched at him in an attempt to seek comfort, but there was no comfort Rafe could give that would ease her fright.

  Thalia had been brave for so long that Rafe ached for a time when she, they, were at peace. But she was so strong that, until now, the only thing that had scared her was the prospect of her grandparents not having survived whatever had decimated Tampa.

  Even coming face to face with Morningstar, the man she’d intended on killing, she’d shown no fear.

  It figured that Thalia would only feel it for those she loved, and Rafe considered himself blessed to be counted among those numbers.

  “She came to be,” Morningstar murmured softly, a glint in his eye that ran too close to pride for Rafe’s liking.