Page 81 of Destined to the Lycan
I completed another circle around the house and hovered in front of her window. The usurper was cuddling against my female peacefully sleeping while enjoying the paradise I had created for her. It should be me showing her the wonders of both the human realm and the netherworld.
I landed on the windowsill and seriously weighed the pros and cons. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t even be debating. The wretch would be long dead. But Amara’s blood changed something in me. She had awakened what she would describe as a softer side that I deemed a shameful weakness. I didn’t want to admire the selfless devotion he showed her. I didn’t want to hold myself back to honor her personal desires.
My whole life, I always indulged in whatever I fancied. If I wanted to kill, I did. If wreaking havoc, causing chaos, and spreading fear and terror was my latest form of entertainment, I would dive headfirst into it until I got bored or a new interest claimed my attention.
And this was the main reason I was now holding myself back.
Was Amara just the latest fleeting passion burning within me? Would I tire of playing house with her in a few weeks or months? The nagging voice at the back of my head swore that this was different. I would love her always. Moreover, I could give her the type of life the pup never could.
But what if the voice is wrong?
The old me wouldn’t have cared. Whatever happened, happened. And if she got hurt in the process, oh well, such was life. But I couldn’t bear the thought that I would be the cause of any sorrow or distress Amara could feel. To add insult to injury,her words still echoed deeply in my mind. As much as I wanted her to be mine, Fate had decided otherwise. Creating an illusion where she would happily share her life with me would only be poisoned in the long term. I wanted her to love me for me, not because I made her believe she did.
We both deserved better.
And as much as I resented the Lycan, I didn’t truly want to harm him. In a different world and a different time, I might have wanted a friendship with him. He showed me the type of trust no one had ever given me before. He left in my care the one thing he valued more than his own life. And then thanked me with a genuine gratitude that still rankled.
Nine Hells, how I hate him!
Ignoring the mocking voice at the back of my head calling me a liar, I flew back to the entrance of the house. Less than thirty minutes remained before the moon would reach its full phase and the shitshow would begin. With heavy steps, I climbed the stairs to the second floor. I entered the room and went directly to Remus. Silencing the less-than-charitable thoughts crossing my mind, I picked him up and carried him to another room at the opposite end of the hallway.
Saying that I didn’t consider tossing him over the railing or letting him tumble down the stairs would be a lie. Obviously, Amara wouldn’t have approved. But there was no crime in entertaining the idea. I dropped him unceremoniously onto the bed then walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. Whatever my feelings about the situation, letting him awaken in his werewolf form next to Amara held too high a risk that he might instinctively kill her before he could at least try to get his feral nature under control.
As I approached Amara’s bedroom, all thoughts of the Lycan vanished from my mind as I felt a foreign presence seconds before I even entered her room. My heart skipped a beat when Isaw Pharos standing by the bed. Ominous with his black wings, dark hood which partially covered his face, and the bones of his ribs protruding through the skin, the Angel of Death was looming over my woman.
“Why are you here?!” I demanded angrily as I marched towards the bed.
He lifted his head and gave me an amused smile. His red eyes sparkled with mischief as he raised an eyebrow in a way that implied I’d asked a silly question. As all the other Reapers, be they Angels of Death like him, or Grims like our brother Haroth, Pharos’s eyes were a little sunken, the skin around his eyes receding to leave the bones exposed, not to mention the three bone spikes that jutted out of his chin.
He was as handsome as he was scary.
“Hello to you, too, little brother,” Pharos responded mockingly. “And you know perfectly well why I’m here. Amara will be dead in the next few minutes.”
“It may be so, but you can’t take her!” I exclaimed, outraged. “She is to be reborn!”
He gave me the obnoxiously soft and appeasing smile he normally reserved to the dying to comfort them before he escorted them to the other side.
“Yes, Lyall. She ishopefullyto be reborn. Whether or not it occurs, it won’t be right away,” he explained in a gentle voice. “It takes a few days for the mutation to be completed. Amara’s soul must go to a safe place in the meantime.”
“The dead don’t return once they’ve crossed over!” I argued angrily.
He gave me an indulgent smile as he nodded. “If they go to the afterlife, then yes, you would be correct. But Amara is going to Erebus. It is not limbo, but just an in between for people in special circumstances. Charon will find a nice place for her to wait out her rebirth.”
I scrunched my face, fighting the urge to argue some more. In a way, the aggravation I felt stemmed more from the fact that I knew better but had allowed panic to cloud my judgment. Hell’s breath, how pathetic I had become over a woman who didn’t even want me… Charon, the Ferryman of the dead, would indeed find a beautiful place for her soul to wait until her body was ready for her return. I still hated the thought that she would be taken to a place where I couldn’t follow or rescue her from.
“Fine,” I grumbled at last.
Pharos chuckled in a way that immediately had my hackles up.
“What’s so funny?” I asked with irritation.
“It is good to see you finally care about someone else more than yourself,” he said softly.
I bared my fangs at him, which only made his smile broaden, pissing me off further.
“For all the good it did me,” I growled bitterly.
My brother shook his head at me as if I was a lost cause.
