Page 101 of Stroke of Shadows

He nodded. “No amount of healing magic or rehab helped, so my father was angry and disgusted.”

“Because of what happened?” she asked.

“No, because I’d become useless to him.”

His words echoed in her head, but it took her a moment to understand them. “Useless? You were just a child.”

Sythe laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. “When I was around ten, he put me in an intense training programme on behalf of the Archdruid. Druids have always been at war with Daemons, and they needed warriors.”

Harper listened intently, her hand trying to soothe the pain she heard in his voice.

“The Archdruid had struck up an agreement with a fallen angel named Hadriel. He was imprisoned in a realm called the Nether.”

“As in Hell?” She’d studied paintings that depicted Hell as a prison, many from unknown artists. The Church of the Light didn’t believe in Hell, just a purgatory of endless darkness.

“That’s the one. It was Hadriel that cursed us.”

Harper tried to sit up, but Sythe gently pulled her until she straddled him instead. Her palms landed on his upper chest, his heart rapid beneath them.

“There were seven of us, all kids, and each was cursed by tying our soul to a beast. In exchange, we became stronger, faster, and more resilient.”

“Warriors,” Harper whispered, and Sythe reached up to brush the hair from her face.

“The training continued until we were adults, and then we became soldiers for the Order, an organisation controlled by the Archdruid.”

“Tell me about your curse,” she asked gently.

Sythe smiled, his personality apparent even with eyes not his own. “I no longer see it as a curse.” His hands settled on her thighs, fingers kneading into the soft flesh. “We have one-hundred years to find someone to soulbind with, or we forfeit our souls to Hadriel.”

“How could your father do that to you? You were all just children.”

“I’ve turned out okay, Starlight.” Even though it was his story, Sythe was stroking her. Comforting her. “But we weren’t seen as children. We were seen as machines. Guard dogs. I’m fucking proud of being a Guardian, and because of that curse, I heal at an extraordinary rate.”

Harper eyed his right arm, now resting against her leg. It didn’t look damaged, the skin perfect even if covered in tattoos. She’d never seen him wince, or show any signs it hurt or ached. But she knew it did.

“So your eyes?” she prompted when he seemed content to just stroke her.

“Is my beast looking out.” Sythe cocked his head, the silver disappearing to show warm caramel.

“I think I want to meet your beast.”

Sythe laughed, the movement violent enough he was forced to grip her waist or risk her falling off. “My beast’s a little crazy. But I can assure you, he wants to meet his mate, too.”

Harper’s smile slipped slightly. Mate.

“So, are you officially soulbound to me?”

Did that mean he’d broken his curse?

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Sythe sat up, pulling her tighter against his body until her breasts crushed his chest. “I planned on wooing you.”

Her knees pressed into the soft cushions, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. “Wooing me?” Warmth spread from her heart, leaving gentle tingles in its wake.

Colour darkened Sythe’s cheekbones. “Erm, yeah. Like I was going to ask you out on a date.”

“A date?”

He was definitely blushing, and Harper found it adorable that a big, strong man like him blushed at the idea of asking her out on a date.

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