Page 65 of Castor
“Anyway,” I continued, poking his collarbone. He grinned. “Something about the wounded merchant called to the dragon, and he carried him to shore. He changed into the form of a man and doctored the merchant’s head injury. The merchant woke a while later and thanked him. The two then fell in love.”
“That fast, huh?”
“Hush.” I pressed a finger to his lips. “Do you want to hear this story or not?”
Castor smiled against my finger. God, he was too damned cute. The insufferable dork.
“The dragon and merchant built a cottage by the sea, where they lived for a few years. But one day, the cottage was ransacked by bandits, and the merchant was stabbed. The dragon knew the wound was too severe and that his lover would die. In his desperation, he performed a very old magic. One that would allow him to share his life force.”
“The binding spell,” Castor said, then pressed his lips together. “Oops. Sorry. Go on.”
“Yes.” I nipped at his throat, loving the raspy chuckle that came from him as a result. “He shared his soul, half of his own heart, to save the man he loved.”
“Wait a second.” Castor frowned. “The binding spell can save someone from the brink of death? I thought it just combined life forces, not healed life-threatening wounds.”
“How is it you didn’t know this? You’re older than me.”
“Shut it, little dragon. Only two of us have ever performed the spell. Kallias, our eighth brother who died long ago, and Galen.”
“You had an eighth brother?” I asked, surprised. “I thought there were only seven deadly sins.”
“Melancholy is less known in mythology,” Castor answered. “Many people only know of the main seven. Kallias’ father was the eighth angel to fall and was killed not long after Kallias was born. And then Kallias died when we were barely twenty years old. He’s been forgotten by the world as time passed, so no one remembers he even existed.”
“That’s sad.”
“It was his curse to bear, I think. Dying before his time. Being forgotten. As the avatar of Melancholy, his very existence was doomed from the start.” Castor gave a small shake of his head. “But anyway. Our binding ritual involves saying vows, drinking magic-infused wine, and sex. The ritual from your story must be different.”
I thought on his words. “I think the difference between the two is, where Galen and Simon’s life forces joined, the one from the story took the life force from the dragon and split it between the two of them. So instead of them sharing each other’s life force, they both shared the dragon’s.”
“Ah. I think I get it. That must be some pretty powerful magic, then.”
A weight settled over my heart as I looked at Castor—reallylooked at him. The connection I felt to him, that magnetic pull to stay by his side, was it something stronger than lust?
“I’m not really into romance,” Castor said, sliding his hand along my neck. Could he feel my pulse quicken beneath his palm? “But that’s romantic as fuck. You know, the whole ‘two souls becoming one’ thing.” He rested his forehead on mine, fingers tangling in the back of my hair. “What would you do if you ever found your mate and learned you couldn’t be with them?”
My heart dropped into my stomach. Why did that feel so relevant to what was already happening? The backs of my eyes stung as I closed them. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah.” His hold on me tightened. “Me either.”
Chapter Thirteen
Castor
Two weeks passed on the island. Each day was filled with sunlight, sex, food, and training in the field not far from the villa.
The thousand warriors that had joined forces with us trained hard every day. While they were skilled fighters, I knew we needed more on our side if we were going to be any match against Asa’s army. We had gotten lucky in the underworld. That kind of luck wouldn’t happen again.
Alastair shared that same belief.
“I’d like to reach out to other Nephilim,” he said one morning over breakfast. Titan and a female warrior named Naida sat across from me and Kyo, while Baxter sat at the head of the table, Alastair to his right. “I’m grateful, of course, to you and your warriors. But numbers aren’t on our side yet.”
Baxter nodded and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I was thinking the same. Our kind live all over the world, but I know of a few groups we can contact.”
“Excellent.” Alastair sipped his hot tea. He drank coffee if he had to, but tea was his preference. He got cranky without it.
“Sirena’s group might be interested in joining the cause,” Naida said. Her amber eyes popped against her dark skin, and her face seemed to be fixed in a permanent glower. She was perhaps the most skilled of the Nephilim I’d seen on the field. A total Amazon warrior type.
“Sirena?” Bellamy asked. “She sounds lovely already.”
