Page 9 of Bride of Death
I’m just not.
I don’t want a mate. I never have. Which was why my heart plummeted when the Viscount called my name during that infamous Day of the Choosing.
Serapina Everheart.
My eyes threaten to close as I picture myself in that white dress, walking down the aisle to answer my fate. Over three years later, and it’s a stark memory in my mind. One I’ll never forget.
Especially what happened after I boarded that train.
What came next reminds me of a dream, though. The way I was whisked off into a garden and introduced to my mother. Or rather, mycreator.
I… I still don’t understand how any of it was real.
It felt like a single night of sleep that just wouldn’t end. At least not until I opened my eyes and found Alina walking through the flowers. Then it was like I drifted off again, only to wake up in a palatial bed with views overlooking the Netherworld Kingdom.
Swallowing, I shake my head and return to my surroundings, only to realize that everyone has left except Ghost. He’s still seated at the bar, though he appears to be sipping a brand-new drink.
Narrowing my gaze at him, I say, “You have to pay for those, you know.”
“Do I?” he asks, one dark brow rising. “But I’ve been serving myself.”
“That doesn’t make the drinks free,” I tell him.
He smiles. “What if I told you the owner said I could have these for free?”
“I’d call you a liar.”
“Would you?” Amusement deepens his question. “Then what are you, Persephone? A liar? An excellent actress?” He cants his head, causing his unruly hair to fall across his forehead. “Or are you simply a mystery to be solved?”
I hold his vibrant gaze. “How do you know that name?” This time I voice it as a demand, my tone infused with a confidenceI don’t feel. But irritation is a powerful motivator. And this guy has more than earned my annoyance.
He studies me for a long moment, some of his amusement seeming to disappear behind a wave of curiosity. “Your fiancé calls you Persephone.”
A chill skitters down my spine. “And who is my supposed fiancé?” I ask, a little less confident now. Because only one man refers to me asPersephoneand it’s the sexy fae who haunts my dreams.
The one who once called himselfHades.
When I woke up the next morning, I realized that name was a result of my new surroundings. My sister had just rescued me from my prison garden and taken me to her mates’ home realm—the Netherworld Kingdom.
AndHadesis the God here, the one whom all the fae worship.
He also happens to be related to my sister’s mate.
So it was no wonder I chose that name for my figment. Some inane part of me clearly wished I could be claimed in a way similar to how my sister was. To become a cherished Omega with a mate-circle.
A fantasy, one that will never come to fruition.
Because I’m not an Omega.
“Death,” Ghost says, drawing me back to our conversation. “Clearly.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“Hmm, yes,” he hums as he sets down his drink. “I have heard of this ailment, but I’ve never witnessed it for myself before. Not until now.” He gives me a sad look. “You humans really do struggle with your hearing, yeah?”
I stare at him for a beat, then narrow my eyes. “You’re as bad as a thorn.”
“A thorn?” he repeats, his eyebrows lifting.
