"No!" I denied with a quick upheaval, sputtering and stirring, "I don't want anyone to die!"

Not Lyonechka. Not Vakerie. Not Vince. Not Rhosyn. Not Iyan. And, definitely not Morpheus.

How could I be so selfish to even-

Wait, Morpheus?

Áine curled her lip back, the flawless skin enveloping her mouth had tugged with a sneer of contempt and the angelic curve of her eyes leered down at me with a malicious intent. She spoke with a tone of anger, "You are lucky that I have spared you. I brought you here under my safety—after swearing to the only daughter that I have left that I would make use of you somehow. I had looked into my daughter's eyes and promised that I needed you alive, not for her brother or for her cousin, but for her. Do you think that I like lying to my child?"

"I'm so sorry," I caught my breath as I apologized, regretting the cowardice of my feelings that I wrongly insisted was valor. "I really am. I don't know what I was thinking. No, I-I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have said that, at all. I'm just panicki-"

I was blinded by my own fault as the familiar feeling of my hysterical heart started to pound against my chest. I was so lost in my thoughts, drowning in the very inconsiderate element of my suggestion, that I did not notice the way she had reached her hand forward. The tips of her pointed, natural nails were the last things I could distinguish before she gripped a clump of my loose hair with a tremulous clench. A scream of sudden fear ripped past my throat as she dragged me off the presumed bed by a fistful of my brunette waves. It took a single hurl of her strength to launch me straight at the floor.

A shudder of pain shot up my back as my tailbone smacked against the hard surface. The sound of my yelp went neglected as Áine exclaimed, "There is only so much that I can do, only a diminutive amount of authority that I hold, and I have risked it all by helping you. This plan of mine has been set in stone since before Morpheus had been born, and it will continue with or without you."

The knots of my hair twisted as she hauled me across the wooden boards, catching the fabric of my pants on each frayed corner and narrow ridge. My shirt had even rode up, just slightly, but the thin skin of my lower back scraped harshly against the timeworn edges of the flooring. "What-"

"But, it would flourish with you dead," she taunted. The insult had rammed right into my feelings, and then set off a series of alarms within my brain. Though, her next hushed statement bewildered me, "It is fortunate for you that I do owe my nephew."

My body struggled against her capability. The heels of my feet cursed at the socks I wore as they tried to glue themselves to a spot. Over and over again, the several attempts to free myself from her hold failed. My hands tried to pry her hand away, too, but nothing came from it. They wrestled against her fingers. There was a strain to my question as I hesitated to ask through gritted teeth, "Owe?"

The corner of my eye caught sight of the door that Áine was leading me to, but she was not the one to open it. The hinges swung with a piercing creak, and a shrill voice followed right behind it.

A feminine pitch ceased Áine's movements as the new third party spoke to her. Shockingly, Áine took a discreet step to the side, successfully shielding me from view. But, the affectionate term still managed to reach my ears. "Mother."

"Kovina, my girl," Áine greeted with an endearing change of tune. The latch that she had on the majority of my hair, except for a few measly tendrils, temporarily detached until she did one last yank and shoved my face into the ground. My scalp tingled as I craned my neck—a lasting reminder to never anger a goddess again, despite how tolerant they first seem.

Morpheus' godly gift had warned me of the great Goddess of the Sun before, and that she was often quite pleasant to strangers and hateful to kin. Unfortunately, the exact second that I became tied to Morpheus, and with a striking red string, I was no longer seen as an irrelevant variable.

And, that was destructive.

I flicked my eyes up as I groaned, analyzing what little I could have of my surroundings. The tips of Kovina's heels were sleek and tapered—a tantalizing pair of stilettos. It was then and there when I realized how true Rhosyn's description of Kovina was.

And, the unforgettable tap of her footsteps.

Kovina lifted her leg and placed the outsole of her high-heeled shoe against my forehead, thrusting the leather into my skin. She asked, "This is her?"

Áine eyed me with an indecipherable side glance before she lightly patted Kovina's shoulders, and she leaned into her mother's touch like a moth drawn to a flame. The action distracted her enough for her foot to falter, and remove itself from my brow. Áine answered her with a simple nod. She then suggested, "You must be considerate of her physique. A dead woman is worth nothing to us. Kovina, do you understand?"

"I will keep her alive," Kovina promised with a drawl. There was a hint of defiance as she tilted her head to look at Áine, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Mother, you trust me, don't you? Those animals know nothing of logical thinking when it comes to the safety of their mates, and Morpheus is no different from a territorial, predictable dog. The last attempt was only unsuccessful because we did not have the right bait. Our chance at succeeding will rise if we at least show him what could happen if-"

Kovina has no fear with her secrets nor her plans, I thought with a knowing idea, because she doesn't believe I have the power to do anything. And, in this situation, it is hard to imagine that I do.

Áine interrupted her with both a sharp intake and a confrontational step forward. "There is no reason for you to risk your chance, either. It is not promised that you will gain an advantage, but by keeping her safe—you do. Think wisely, my smart girl." Kovina did not speak, instead she let the silence speak for her. As though she was sensing her apprehension, Áine ran a hand down Kovina's face. It was a clear act of soothing, especially before reassuring her, "I only want what is best for you. And, I will not allow you to fail a second time."

Kovina's hands twitched at her sides. "Of course."

Áine leaned in to kiss her daughter's left temple, lingering for a pregnant moment. "Thank you."

The light of her presence diffused as Áine exited the room, skimming the mid rail of the door with her fingertips. A pattering accompanied her tall form throughout the—from a point of view like mine—unseeable path. There were very few remnants of life left in the room, which mostly consisted of common decor and basic furniture. There was nowhere else to look, but up.

Kovina was unexpected. She let her almond eyes of violet lead the conversation, the shape tapering to form an intimidatingly sharp tear duct, and they bored into my wavering stare. The chopped layers of her white hair roamed the boundary of her face, revealing her ears and eyebrows. Her jaw was both precise and persuading, directing the line of awareness to her thin lips. As she smiled, her blackcurrant lips furled into her gums and displayed the honed cuspids that lay behind them. "Interesting," she said with a curl of her tongue. "You're not what I expected."

I was torn between staying silent or speaking up. The main question was whether or not she preferred being spoken back to. She was lean, and carried herself with an incredible stance. It was almost impossible to not feel small underneath her penetrating gaze.

My confidence was playing an intricate game. There were too many pieces of me that felt both durable and fragile.

Do I have brute strength? That's a solid no. However, do I have a smart mouth? Yes.

A piercing screech answered for me—the sound shredded what was left of my dependence as my knees gave out due to the sheer surprise of it, nearly causing my chin to slam back into the hard flooring, but I could practically feel the noise split Kovina in half. The obnoxiously loud cry pulsated against her translucent skin, her blue veins vibrating.

On impulse, I deflected, "That wasn't me."

She sneered down at me, "It's about to be."

The saying proved to be true—the apple doesn't fall that far from the tree. Kovina pinched at my upper arm with her claws before yanking me to my feet, igniting a hiss of pain from my lips as a path of warm blood trickled down and over the back of her thumb. My feet slipped across the floor as she easily bounded us off to a new destination, sending me flying and stumbling alike. The soft spots of my hands, legs, and shoulders bashed against whatever blocked my way. There was no caution for the frail.

But, there was a hot breath suddenly fanning against my cheek and invading the outline of my ear, and it was wafting a scent similar to that of rust between us. There was no time to react as she forcibly drilled her fangs into the cartilage of my ear, and ripped off a chunk.

Through a gurgle, she gnawed at the flesh and said, "I hope you can run fast."

💕