Page 25 of Blood Bonds
“I see.” It’s come to that, then. “And here I thought we might be able to discuss this civilly, but instead, you wish to make a puppet of me.”
“It might be temporary.”
Doubtful. “You’ve always wished to control me.” Something he recognized millennia ago. “I’m surprised it took you this long to try.”
“Who’s to say I haven’t succeeded already?” An evil grin twitched at the edges of his father’s mouth, causing Sethios’s stomach to churn. He recognized that look. It occurred at every Conclave, right before his maker indulged in his penchant for torture.
This fate was always inevitable.
Blood ties mattered little to most ancient beings. No remorse or sense of humanity existed in those past a certain age, except under unique circumstances.
For them, their father-son bond never truly existed. Sethios was an instrument to be used, not a son or a progeny.
There would be no mercy or leniency, especially if Osiris believed his next-in-line to be a threat. Which he clearly did, thanks to a seer’s prediction.
It was a miracle that it took her this long to foresee such a future.
Because if anyone could overtake Osiris, it was his son.
But not today.
“Well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do,” Sethios said as he reached out to take hold of Caro’s hand. He shifted his gaze to hers. “Isn’t that right, love?”
His compulsion triggered, tightening his gut as the world shifted around him.
Ezekiel’s ability to trace was nothing like misting. Blasts of color nearly blinded him, the hues matching Caro’s blue-and-white wings. Her arms found his neck as he wrapped his own around her waist, and they whirled through a foreign tunnel of light and sound that nearly rendered him unconscious.
And then they were standing in the middle of an alley in Paris with his back against a brick wall and a seething angel before him.
7
Bloodlines
“You bastard!” She slapped him across the face. Twice. “Now I have to mist back to your condo to talk to him, and he’ll probably be gone already. At least I can grab my knives.”
“Don’t mist,” Sethios managed before she could disappear. He put all his effort into that single command, forcing her to remain. It served them both to keep her alive right now.
She punched him, causing him to keel over into an uncharacteristic heap onto the ground. Fuck. That teleportation trick took a lot out of him.
He shook the ringing from his ears while reaffirming his persuasive grip. She fell to her knees beside him on a shriek as he forced her down to the ground and held her there. He’d keep her like that until he could breathe properly again.
Threats graced his ears as she listed all the clever ways she intended to castrate him once she had her weapons again. His lips curled despite the discomfort radiating through him.
Note to self: I dislike misting.
Ezekiel’s gift turned the world black, and in the blink of an eye, a new scene materialized.
Caro’s transportation left him feeling sick and disorientated. Almost as if it’d been wrong to travel with her. No wonder his father rejected that part of his nature.
Sethios shook his head, forcing it to clear.
They needed to start moving. His maker would call on Ezekiel to track them. It was only a matter of time before his best friend located his whereabouts and reported them back to Osiris.
Sethios loved his ability to compel but hated how it could be used so effortlessly against him.
He forced himself upward, his legs shaking with the effort. They needed money, clothes, and transportation. Preferably in that order.
And he required Caro’s participation, something she would not be giving willingly, if her continued threats were anything to go by.
