Page 35 of Bought By the Cerberus
Aion lay on a massive stone platform, his chest open to reveal the pulsing energy core within. “Aion,” I greeted him. “How do you feel?”
“Physically recovered,” Charon answered in Aion’s stead. He leaned over Aion, his hands strikingly gentle on Aion’s bronze arm. “No thanks to you.”
“Ignore Father, Theron,” Aion told me with a frustrated huff. “I’m perfectly all right. You, on the other hand, look terrible.”
His eyes glinted with a concern that I couldn’t help but think I didn’t deserve. “How are you managing? I heard the transformation left changes.”
I flexed my claws, feeling the increased heat that now lived under my skin. Hotter than before. More volatile. “My hellfire runs stronger than it did. Iaso said it’ll normalize.”
I wanted to believe her, but some days, I still didn’t feel right in my own skin. Some days, I wondered if I ever would.
Charon gave me a knowing look. “Such transformations rarely reverse completely. Iaso should know better than to provide empty comfort.”
Callista glowered at him, every line in her body tight with tension. “Iaso wouldn’t lie. Unlike other people we know.”
Charon let out a bitter chuckle. “I am many things, Callista, but I’m no liar. And no matter what he might claim, Aion came closer to destruction than either of you understand.”
The words made my stomach drop. I remembered all too well how my fangs had pierced Aion’s torso, how he’d collapsed on the crumbling pier, how his eyes had slowly gone dim. “How close?”
“You missed his core by perhaps four of your finger-widths.” Charon gestured toward Aion’s exposed center. “Hisconsciousness almost collapsed. And if he survived at all, it is because he is my creation, not that of the Moirae. Otherwise, he would have faded, erased into nothing.”
Like the Keres children almost had. Like so many others could have if I’d reached them in my madness.
Charon continued to speak, heedless of my increasing panic. “You come here and act like you’re concerned. But you nearly obliterated his mind through your careless rage.”
Callista went rigid beside me. “Careless? Aion nearly died because of what you did. Not because of Theron.”
I wrapped my arm around my mate’s shoulders, trying to calm her down. “Callista…”
“No, Theron. This is nonsense. He took my memories. Then he tried to take your abilities. That failed trade triggered everything. This is entirely his fault. He doesn’t get to pretend otherwise, now that it’s convenient.”
She was right, of course. It was Charon’s repeated failure that had led to this. But that didn’t absolve me of the blame, nor did it make it better.
I took a deep breath, struggling to tame the hellfire stirring under my skin. It would be too easy to release my beast, to lash out at Charon like I’d done the day of my rampage. My innermost self still craved that violence, still wanted to destroy what had hurt her.
But if I did, I’d only make things worse. And Charon knew it, damn him.
“I served as requested,” he said, strikingly calm. “But… you’re not wrong. I should never have agreed to Theron’s request. I knew it was beyond my capability.”
I stared at him, shocked. “Then why accept it?”
Charon’s gaze moved to Aion. “Believe it or not, I wanted to help you, Theron. For Aion’s sake, at least. And I wanted to keep such things from happening in the future. I should have let it go and turned you away.” He smiled at Callista, cruel and vicious. “Perhaps you’d have been happier then, bride of Agrion.”
Something inside my mate seemed to snap. She pulled away from me and stalked up to Charon. Her palm cracked across Charon’s pale cheek. The sound echoed through the workshop, sharp and final.
My every protective instinct flared to life, and I grabbed her arm, pulling her behind me. If Charon tried to retaliate, he’d regret it. Aion wouldn’t be able to defend him now.
But Charon barely moved. He pursed his lips and let out a low sigh, as if genuinely regretful. “Your anger at me changes nothing, Callista. You should understand, I serve a power greater than my judgment. And it accepted the offer even knowing it would fail.”
At that, I finally found my voice. “What power, ferryman? What are you talking about?”
“You should know the answer to that already, Theron. You’ve seen it, lived it, breathed it. Thanatos himself created it, after the Shift. And it has its own designs.”
My breath caught as understanding slowly began to dawn. “The lake. You serve the lake.”
The Acheron. Our home, which protected Asphodelia, and set it apart. The boundary we could never cross without Charon. The pool of death energy that had been there since the world tore apart and reformed, since our people had first appeared on Alia Terra. The secret strength of my people, which apparently had its own sentience.
Charon moved to another workbench, returning with a small wooden box. “Why so surprised, Theron? We came to be through a trade. All those Shift Day deaths, for our existence. For Thanatos’s blessing. Nothing has changed since then. The Acheron always demands a price. But I told you that already, didn’t I?”
