Page 89 of Leashed

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Ican take your place. She and I are a good match.”

The fire in his shoulder muscles centered Bo against the onslaught of Ryan’s voice following him through the narrow tunnel. The Eidolon had switched gears, abandoning Sage and wielding his older brother against him. Plucked from his memories and fears, the apparition was doing damn fine work wearing on his exhausted psyche.

He sure as hell didn’t need the Eidolon reminding him he wasn’t good enough for Sage.

He had buddy-boy’s existence for that.

“What do you bring to the table, Bo?” Ryan’s voice demanded. “Other than booze and thousands of nameless lays? You’re no hero, no provider. You’ve never been more than a useless mutt, and you never will be, brother.”

The dull throbbing across his forearms joined with his scratched-to-shit knees and shoulders to remind him to keep his eyes open in the blackness, to avoid succumbing to the heaviness in his eyelids.

“When she chooses another, will it be worth it?” the voice taunted. “What if fate places her path with me? Will you step aside with the honor we all know you lack? Knowing it’s my bed she sleeps in?”

Grunting, he focused on the sliver of light ahead, blinking to ensure it wasn’t a trick of the mind.

“Any mongrel could do this trek,” Ryan’s voice sneered. “This is nothing more than another of your pathetic attempts to get a rush, isn’t it? Screw the woman. This is the high you’re after.” He paused and the voice dropped. “The pain, the unknown. The rush in your veins when it hits you, the euphoria after. It’s always about you, Bo.”

Coughing out the cave dust that had gathered in his lungs, he licked his dry lips and forged on into the light, knowing the Eidolon, and Lachesis, had seen his uncertain hesitation.

*

Ryan stood atDio’s side, his eyes on the pool of water at Lachesis’s feet. “The Eidolon remains in the central cave,” he stated, doing his best to stay impassive in his reactions as he watched his brother crawl on his stomach in the darkness, muttering to himself with a voice damaged from thirst.

Lachesis dipped her toe in the water, laughing when it caused a rumble in the cave, stilling Bo’s progress. “Your brother appears to be having an episode of self-awareness. Or weakness.” She smiled, taking a moment to look him over slowly. “Talking to himself. I didn’t anticipate that delightful turn of events. But he isn’t wrong, is he? You would make a decent substitute for him.” Her eyes raked over him with blatant appraisal. “Any woman would welcome such a trade.”

Hiding his internal disgust, he took a step closer to the Fate. “Hallucinations brought on by dehydration and exhaustion are not an indication of weakness. This pushes the boundaries.”

“The mutt is correct,” Atropos interjected, ignoring Lach’s rolling eyes. “No other who has made the journey to us has had his path wrought with such obstacles feasting on minds and sanity.”

Lachesis swung her legs out of the water and leaned back, shaking her long hair out across the marble floor. “No other has been so determined to prove himself a hero,” she countered. “Boreus has a serpent’s tongue. I’m merely ensuring he’s worthy of the gift he’s seeking.”

Staring at the pool, he bit his cheek until he wouldn’t respond in anger. “My brother seeks reparation for your wrongdoings,” he corrected, refusing to look at the vengeful Fate. “Reparations I suspect you cannot truly make.”

Lachesis smiled, slipping a finger into the water. “There,” she said. “Drink he needs, drink he shall have.”

Atropos’s wizened face locked into an unreadable expression as she slowly lowered herself to the pool’s edge and watched.

*

Squinting against thepounding brightness, Bo pushed himself to his feet, his legs barely supporting his weight as he stumbled across the grass toward the amphorae standing amid the delicate flowers dappling the ground. He sunk to his knees and brought the first to his lips, dropping the jar when the scent of wine engulfed him.

He grabbed the second, the third, tossing them aside as his rage grew.

She was testing him with the one thing she thought he couldn’t resist.

“You must’ve missed the memo,” he croaked out, rising to his feet with a gritted laugh. “I traded out wine for coffee a while back.” Lumbering toward the looming gates miles across the field, he cursed as his legs gave out. He dropped into the delicate flowers with barbs that pierced through his shredded clothing, embedding themselves into his skin and releasing their poison. “A nice cappuccino with a double shot of espresso and I’d have definitely fallen to that test.”

His head pounded, his thirst combining with the sudden brightness to take it to a new level of pain. He fell back on his elbows and narrowed his eyes at the gates leading to the home of the Fates.

They appeared deceptively close.

Deceptively close, and unguarded.

The scent of the spilt wine wafted over him and a tremble went through his bones.

A taste.

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