Page 4 of Damian

Worry gnaws at me, growing stronger with each passing minute.

I let another hour go by before I pack up. My concern for her wellbeing is on high alert.

The walk to my house raises more questions than worries. Just because we’re not fated doesn’t mean I don’t feel a connection. If something happened to her, I’d have felt it. I know it.

Her younger sister, Circe, sits on my front porch, clutching a letter in her fist.

“Finally,” she huffs while pushing the crumpled note into my hand.

Dear Damian,

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t worry that at any minute you’ll hear your true mate’s call and leave me. It’s been fun. I’ve met someone else. A human. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes. You won’t see me again. I wish you the best.

Love,

Katarina

I read the Dear John letter a dozen times before tossing it into the fire.

I could go to her and tell her the truth. Only my pride won’t let me. Not when she admits unfaithfulness.

I gave her my heart. I’ve been with no one else. I chose her as the mother of my children. I’d have given her all that I am, and she rejected me.

I wish her and her human the best. I won’t beg. I’ll shed tears tonight, but tomorrow she’s a memory.

Chapter 4

Emjay

Thirty-five years ago

“It matters not how many people I’m surrounded by. I’m alone.” ~ Emjay

“Des, wait up,” young Georgia calls after me.

I don’t stop. I must bring in enough water for Anna’s bath before Basil is ready for her, or I’ll find myself tied to the post with my back bare before the herd while he issues my punishment.

I would give anything to return to Poppa’s tent and suffer his chastisement over Basil’s. Poppa never whipped me until the skin on my back ripped open.

After every ovulation cycle, Basil prays to Helios for a son. The day he smells my monthly—he knows his prayers went unanswered. He blames me.

I stopped screaming and begging a year ago. It only fueled his anger at my inability to conceive.

Basil has planted his seed in my womb one hundred and eighty times over the last five years. Once a month, for the three days of ovulation, I lay underneath him while he rapes me.

Tonight, it’s Anna’s turn. She’s his favorite because she’s given him two daughters. I don’t envy her.

While I despise the pole, I thank Helios that the monster’s spawn has never grown inside of me.

The day Momma ripped the call to my mate from my soul, she told Poppa to send me to Basil’s tent.

I loved her until that fateful day.

I hid my smile the day Poppa whipped her to death when he found out she’d never give him another child. A fitting end to her stealing my only chance of ever getting out of this labyrinth.

“Des, slow down,” Georgia demands, panting. Her little legs struggle to keep up with my pace.

“Georgia, I have no time for this. It’s your mother’s night with your father, and I have to prepare her bath.”

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