Page 3 of Beyond Fate

It took a moment for Damon to understand what he was talking about. Then dread sank into the pit of his stomach. “Why doesn’t Raidh have his soul?”

Sadness filled Casimir’s eyes as he brushed his knuckles over Damon’s cheek. “The curse has claimed his life.”

“Raidh died?” Damon released Casimir then shoved the fae off of him and got to his feet. Shit! Jaytee had tried to pull Damon out of the sleep Vicino had put him in, when he should have already left to get his mate’s soul back. “I’m coming too.”

Damon stumbled backward when his wings began to flutter energetically. “What in the hell did they do to me?”

“In order to pull you from the ancient sleep, the Ultionem and I infused you with our blood. You now have some of their traits.”

The Ultionem were powerful beings, and they’d shared their blood with him, had turned him into… What in the hell was he now? He damn sure wasn’t just a wolf shifter anymore. There were feathery wings on his fucking back, the sheer weight making him stumble around.

There was also a sizzling power inside of him like his body was being nonstop electrocuted.

They’d turned him into a freak.

“You can’t go with us,” Casimir stated. “Your powers are too unstable at the moment.”

To add icing to his shit cake, the fae standing in front of him was his mate, yet the bastard had yet to acknowledge their connection.

This was just too much to deal with. “Go help my brother,” Damon snarled as he walked away.

Casimir grabbed his arm, but Damon shook off his grip and kept going, cursing when he couldn’t figure out how to get through the back door with his wings extended.

“Do you need me to—”

“I don’t need a damn thing from anyone,” Damon snapped. He no longer felt like a part of his family. He wasn’t a Frost any longer. Not when he had a circus circulating inside of him.

“I’ll return, nékah.” Casimir walked around the side of the house, leaving Damon standing there seething and miserable. They might have won the battle with Vicino, but they’d also lost, too.

Damon was a mutant, and Raidh was dead.

“Just concentrate on your wings. Imagine them tucking into your back.”

Nazaryth stood in the kitchen, watching him.

“You couldn’t have given me another winged-beast trait?” Damon was not in a good mood but watched his tone with the Ultionem member.

“The second one might be debatable.” Nazaryth smirked, the tips of his fangs showing. “Me or Christian?”

“I wasn’t even aware winged beasts had fangs.”

When Nazaryth walked toward him, Damon moved back to give him room so he could exit the house. “We are a race of vampires created by the gods, given wings to make us more palatable for our king.”

Somebody detested their king. Nazaryth had pretty much spat the word. “So if you’re a vampire with wings, and now I’m one…”

“You will be recognized as a winged beast among us.” He gave a single nod. “Though I’m not expecting you to help us battle the infernus incolae.”

Damon was getting sick and tired of not understanding what people were saying. “English.”

“Hell dwellers. Hounds of hell. Hellhounds. Take your pick,” Nazaryth replied. “They go by all those names.”

“Yeah, hard pass.” Damon had never come across a hellhound, but he’d heard some pretty nasty stuff about them.

“Your zaterio is a Méityah Béskym,” Nazaryth commented, seeming impressed. “Sorry. Your mate is a guardian.” He smirked. “You lucked out with mates. Casimir is an elite warrior.”

Damon growled. “He’s not my mate.”

Nazaryth shrugged. “I’ve already fought that battle, so I’m staying out of yours. For now, concentrate on your wings.”

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