Den of Sorrows
Page 36

Once she was back in her cell, the familiar chain wrapped around her ankle, attaching her to the wall. She sank down to the ground and closed her eyes. She desperately wanted to know who it was that had spoken to her. Perhaps, her mind had finally cracked. Maybe she just couldn't take anymore and so it had splintered, altering her reality. It sounded plausible, just as plausible as the existence of vampires. She didn't feel like she was crazy. But, really, did crazy people know that they were crazy?
Bethany groaned at her ridiculous internal argument. What did it matter if she was crazy? She was the blood slave of a creature that humans believed only existed in books. Sanity was really of little importance at this point. Exhaustion settled over her and she gave up trying to reason things out. She let sleep take her. She hoped for good dreams, because it was only during sleep that she was able to find some semblance of peace.
"He's coming," the female voice she'd heard before whispered into her mind while she slept. Bethany found herself standing in a beautiful meadow. The sun was shining brightly in the sky but she wasn't hot, which she found strange. It was a dream, dork, she thought. How she was conscious of the fact that it was a dream wasn't something she was going to examine at this point.
"Darkness clouds his sight and surrounds his soul. He comes to you for light,” the voice spoke again.
"Who are you?" Bethany asked as she looked around the meadow for any signs of life other than the plants.
"For now, just know that I am watching over you. You have faced such difficult trials and endured such evil, and though I have not delivered you from it, I am with you."
"Why won't you save me?" she asked as she felt the tears begin to build. "Why did this happen to me?"
"There will be others who will need your help and guidance. They will trust you because you understand. They will heal because you have been where they've been. Soon you will no longer be suffering. He is coming for you. Do not fear him."
"Who is he? Why's he coming for me? Why would I fear him?" The questions poured from her quickly, afraid that the entity, whatever she was, would leave.
"He is yours. He is coming for you because he will always come for you. The darkness is great inside of him. You've already become very acquainted with the darkness, and seeing it in him might frighten you. He is the one person you never have to fear. I created him for you and you for him. Together you will heal one another."
Bethany didn't know what to say to that. It sounded like a very intense relationship and she had no clue what that would even begin to look like, considering she'd never even had a boyfriend. The dream slowly faded away into a restful, dreamless sleep.
 
 
Drake looked at the door from where he sat on the couch in his room. He’d not been expecting any visitors at this late hour.
"It's unlocked," he said, knowing whoever was on the other side would hear him clearly.
His Alpha walked in and closed the door quietly behind him. Drake took in the grim look on Decebel’s face and knew that he wasn't there to talk about mission strategy. He was there to deal with Drake’s wolf.
"How are you doing?" Decebel asked him as he walked over and took the empty seat to the left of the couch. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
Drake wasn't one for lying, so he told his Alpha straightforward, "I'm tired."
"You've been fighting a long time," Decebel offered. "You are allowed to be tired."
Drake knew he didn't just mean fighting physical battles, though, of those, he’d seen plenty. Decebel also meant he'd been fighting the darkness that all of the males of their kind lived with until they found their true mate.
"Can you handle this, Drake—all the killing, blood, and the adrenaline rush from those kills? Is it going to push your wolf over the edge?"
He leaned forward, mimicking the pose of the other wolf. "I'm not feral. My wolf can last a little longer," Drake told him. He watched his Alpha’s eyes for any indication of Decebel’s thoughts. Ultimately it was up to his Alpha as to whether Drake would continue with the others. Drake had not mentioned to Decebel that lately he’d been feeling a call to be included in this mission—that there was something pulling him to the US. He and Decebel hadn't been pack mates long, but Drake respected him and even liked him and trusted him. So why didn’t he just tell his Alpha?
"Then, perhaps, I should ask you whether you want to be in on this mission?"
Perceptive Alpha, Drake thought dryly. "I need to be in on this mission, Decebel." Drake met his Alpha’s eye for a count of three before averting his gaze. "Something is calling to me."
Decebel stared at him for several minutes, just watching him. Drake didn't fidget under the stare. There was no reason to fidget. He knew his place and was comfortable in it. Decebel was more dominant, not by a lot—but by enough. Drake and his wolf were fine with that.
"You will let me know if it becomes too much." It wasn't a question.
"I will," he agreed.
Decebel bid him goodnight and Drake was once again alone with his thoughts. He leaned back and rested his head on the back of the couch. His eyes closed and he let out a long breath. He was tired of being alone. Mate, his wolf rumbled inside of him. Yes, the wolf inside wanted their mate just as badly as the man. Just imagining her, there with them on the couch, wrapped in his arms, chased away a tiny bit of the coldness beginning to claim him. To feel her touch and breathe in her scent as it wrapped around him would be heaven. Drake drifted off to sleep with those thoughts dancing in his mind and he prayed to the Great Luna that his time was coming—that he, like the others who'd found their true mates, would finally be at peace.
"Please," the word was a muttered whisper as he slipped deeper into sleep.
 
 
Costin pulled his mate tighter against him as they lay in their bed. They were both beyond exhausted. Sally had been dead on her feet and he'd had to help her shower and dress for bed, not that he was in any way complaining, but he did worry about how worn out she was. His own fatigue was something that he hadn't felt in quite a while.
Though he was tired from the physicality of the day, his mate was tired from the mental strain. She'd found that at some of the larger covens, where there'd been more death, she hadn’t even needed to go into the sewers to feel the residual emotions. If she stood too close to the manholes that led to the underground, the cries of those children who’d departed assaulted her senses. The times that Costin’s group wasn’t fighting, he'd kept her wrapped in his arms using the bond to help block some of the strain. He wished he could take it all, could erase the feelings from her memory, but he couldn't. All he could do was be there for her in any capacity that she needed.