Hekate’s Bride

“What?” I ask, taking great pains to wedge between our thrones a little distance as I push mine from his.

I should know better. I end up looking stupid. I always do stupid things around Rune. That’s the only explanation for trying to move a throne that is fixed to the ground.

“You’re a clown,” he mutters, angling toward me and propping his head against his wrist.

The glint in his green eyes is mischievous and a crafty smile teases his lips. “I quite like your aggressive side, Red.”

I blink. Heat creeps up my neck, spreading further until I’m pretty sure I have a full body flush going on. Does he call me Red to turn me Red?

“Piss off,” I say, settling in beside him awkwardly.

Now I’m all self conscious. Touching my hair, twirling it around my fingers, rubbing my arms, peeling off the coat of my nail polish, all in a bid to ignore the fact that Rune’s eyes are trained on me.

Why in the three realms is he looking at me?

Why is he even talking to me?

“Why are you in black?”

“I don’t see how that concerns you,” I snap, looking down at the field below. I catch sight of Maya and she’s talking to one of the Lycan’s in the green game’s uniform.

I force my gaze from her and turn left. Shouldn’t have done that. Now, I’m staring at him and the way the sun catches in his eyes. The way the gentle breeze lifts his white hair against his cheek.

The sun makes his usually pale skin look olive-like today and I find that I like the bit of colour to his face. It makes him appear more… lycan.

My eyes fall to his smirking lips and I hold my breath, hoping somehow that it slows my racing heart before he can hear it.

“I hear Darian made you his Erasthai,” he finally says, pulling away from me, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“What is it to you?” I snap.

He chuckles, adjusting his silly crown that’s askew to sit properly on his head. “It is everything to me, Astrid.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking, or if he truly means it, and I know better than to keep his words in my head.

Listen to Rune at your own detriment. Nothing good ever comes of it.

“And if I do become his Erasthai?”

Rune’s smile falters and he head snaps left immediately. There is a flash of darkness in his eyes but it’s gone in a split second and I start to wonder if I imagined it. He leans in and my heart slams into my ribcage when his fingers graze my neck.

The spot he touches is sensitive and heat jolts through me, racing down my core.

He prods the tender skin between my neck and shoulder, and his thumb caresses it slowly. A shiver runs down my spine, leaving in its wake goosebumps. I try to keep my composure. I try to numb myself to it. I try to remind myself that there are thousands around us, watching. I try to surpress the desire that is threatening to consume me, to burn me.

I can’t let him know what his touch is doing to me, but my body is betraying me by leaning into it.

I am conflicted, confused, and undeniably attracted to him in a way that makes no sense.

“Here,” he says, drawing a line on a pulse point. His voice drops low and throaty, and his eyes are trained on mine as he speaks. “He’ll mark you here. Claim you for eternity, binding your soul to his, never to be separated again.”

His thumb leaves my neck, replacing it with his index finger and he draws a line down from it to the swell of my breast where my heart is.

Goddess, what the fuck is this?Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

I have no doubt he feels it. My heartbeat. It is wild and erratic. Fucking hell.

“You will feel him here. His thoughts, his emotions. They will become yours, and yours his. You will cease to be Astrid,” he whispers and I don’t think I am breathing when he adds, “You will become Darian’s other half. You will be called his Erasthai. Not the other way around. Your will will cease to be. His will becomes yours. His wants, his needs. They will become that which you live for, thrive for. For him, you live. For him, you die. That is what becoming his Erasthai means for you.”

His gaze is piercing as he analyses me behind his careful, meditating eyes. “But then, that could never be you, could it?”

My hands are shaking and sweat rolls down my neck, down my spine. “If you’re trying to scare me–”

He laughs harshly and pulls away from me. “Now give me one reason why I’d do that.”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

His grin is near blinding as he sketches a mock bow. “You’re welcome.”

My lips part to give him a befitting reply but the aura in the arena changes. There is a heaviness in the air that wasn’t there a second ago.

I recognize it and stand to my feet, bowing my head low beside Rune who’s also in the same pose. Our parents have arrived.

I peek at the screens not too far from me and the entire stadium is bowing too. The feed switches to an up-close video of Rune’s mother and father taking graceful steps toward us.

Queen Zephyr is smiling and waving erratically at the crowd and cheers and screams fills the air as they sight her.

King Fenrir on the other hand looks like he wishes to be somewhere else. He overlooks the crowd without a hint of warmth, but that doesn’t stop them from screaming their heads off.

Not far behind, my mother and father follow, smiling warmly, and the other half of the stadium cheers loudly, as if the screams are some sort of battle to see which race loves their rulers better.

Lovely, isn’t it?

The nearer their approach, the heavier the aura. This is a necessity. A show of power. When I become queen one day, I’ll need to do this too. I must show strength in the presence of my people. And love. And joy.

But more importantly, strength.

No one loves or respects a leader who they think is too weak to guide them.

Soon they reach the top and my voice comes out as a squeak when it joins Rune’s in greeting, “Welcome, Your Majesties.”

I raise my head then, watching Rune’s parents settle to the right of him. Queen Zephyr smiles at me, nodding in approval and I smile back, letting her see my gratitude.

King Fenrir doesn’t spare me a glance. You know, there are days I think he doesn’t like me, but I can’t be too sure. He always looks mean, and stern.

My heart expands with joy when my parents stop in front of me. My eyes sting with tears as I peer up at them.

“Daughter,” my father teases and I laugh.

“Father,” I answer and look at my mother. She isn’t smiling, and I don’t smile back either as I say, “Luna.”

Mother rolls her eyes at my chosen address for her and strides over to her throne. She seems grumpier than usual, and her hair, dare I say, has a few locks out of place. Bad hair day, I guess.

“You look well,” my father says, settling on his taller throne to my right. I have no idea who made this silly arrangement, but why do I have to be in the middle with Rune?

“You too.”

“Vesper tells me you are not in shape to participate,” he says with a frown and I know what’s coming next. It’s the side of my father that I absolutely did not miss. “As much as I understand how difficult it must be, you should know you are breaking family tradition and–”

“Stop it, Father.”

His face softened and his frown dissolves into concern. “I know, Astrid. I should ask how you are. How it’s been so far. I know it’s been difficult for you. I can’t begin to imagine to what extent. But I look at you now, and I know you’re alright and you will be fine.”

My throat closes. I want to tell him everything that’s happened. I want to tell him I am not alright. I want to tell him what I have heard and the things I don’t understand. I want to tell him that I don’t understand what I’m doing here and I’ve been lost since I got here.

But I nod instead, swallowing the painful lump in my throat. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I did try.”

Mother snorts and I resist the urge to glare at her. I train my gaze down at the field instead and the crowd of reds and greens taking formations. There are two flag bearers running to the center of the field and in their hands are two white rifles.

The movements around have reduced and everyone’s settled in, brimming with excitement.

It’s starting.