Page 51 of Wings and Shadowthief

Two giggling women walked inside, their nakedness covered in blood and other bodily liquids. "I heard you were back, Sethie," one of them—a mortal girl—slurred, swaying her hips as she approached.

Sethie? What the actual unholy fuck.

Her companion, a vampire he might have fucked once or twice, was equally revolting and twice as audacious; she leaned against his chest and slid her hand inside his breeches.

When in Rome—or Atlantis…

The Price of Freedom

The moment his shackles disappeared, Hunter didn't feel joy or relief. There was only fear. A sudden overwhelming fear that he was too late, that Jack had let the Fates ruin everything he had—everything he wanted.

His eyes distinguished the spells woven by their words, seeing them marked on his skin—golden threads adhering to his veins, rewriting the core of who he was, who he'd become.

Seven months ago, he'd kissed every inch of the most beautiful woman in his world's skin and whispered promises he meant, promises he never wanted to take back. And she'd answered with one simple word, sealing their fates.

Yes.

He's asked Gwen to be his, she'd said yes, and that was that. He belonged to her, body and soul. She was his bride. His mate. He didn't care that those dumb Fates had picked another path for him. He'd chosen her, and damn the consequences.

But those spells? They wouldn't only destroy the bond he and Gwen had shared, underneath all of her fear, her hatred, her anger at Jack's indifference, seeing his ignoring her as a rejection.

It would destroy her, Gwen. Undo what she was. By removing what defined her—her ability to choose her mate—the Fates were attempting to erase her.

He wasn't surprised those three gods hated Gwen, what she and the other Brides represented. By changing the future they wove, he could start chain reactions that created entirely different worlds than the ones the gods had planned for Earth, for the whole of humanity.

Hunter didn't give a damn.

There was only one thing that mattered to him in that moment. Saving Gwen from those bitches.

He couldn't find a way to undo the spells already written on him, but fuck if he was letting them make things worse. Never one for subtlety, he threw a punch at the closest one.

The crone cackled a jagged laugh. "Didn't the last time teach you a lesson, boy? You can't hurt us."

The last time, he'd been patrolling the skies of Oldcrest when he spotted one of them at the border. He approached them in order to identify them, and she pleasantly introduced himself, feeding him the same bullshit she'd tried to feed Jack. Only Hunter knew he was mated, and didn't give a single fuck about the will of the Fates. He told her as much. When the other two appeared and attempted to start the spells, he flew as fast as his wings could carry him to get away, shooting them out of the sky while he did. He'd shot one of them right in the head, the other two in the kidney and stomach. And though they had bled, their flesh had healed almost instantly.

Then dawn arrived and they faded with the light, like nightmares.

Hunter had drawn ancient runes in his skin to ensure they couldn't get to him. Naturally, when Jack ignored him and took a portal, they used the fact that his being was immaterial for an instant to pull him here, to their domain, where the Moirai's rule was supreme.

There would be no dawn. There would be no escape. He was in the darkness of Olympus.

He didn't happen to care. Hunter threw punch after punch, kick after kick, if only to shut them up, stop them from finishing their spell. They didn't so much as defend themselves, and he didn't care.

But while one was down, the other two kept singing. They were winning, and he was about to lose everything unless he found a way.

The golden spells danced as they faded inside his skin.

Hunter stopped fighting, stopped moving, stopped doing anything at all. He just looked down at his hands.

"Accept your destiny. You're to accomplish wonders. You're to take a place on Olympus, with the next generation of scions. You will be a god."

Funny how solutions could be so very simple, when they seemed impossible for a time. He laughed, unwilling to cry.

Clotho, Lachesis, andAtroposadvanced as one, taking his silence for acceptance.

"Fuck your destiny."

Hunter's father was derided and ignored by his entire line because he had no wings, and those without wings couldn't hope to serve in the heavens. Rakiel could never teach Jack a thing about the wings, as he never had a pair of his own, but Hunter had instinctively known everything there was to know about their power. How to use it. How to avoid hurting himself. In the rare moments when he'd been in charge, he'd had the presence of mind to research who he was, what he was, using the few things his father had told him to trace his origins.

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