Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Rathbone had lost much along the way. Soldiers. A fortune. His moral compass. But I will not lose my mate. “I committed the vilest deeds to defeat the former king,” he rasped. A famed warrior named Styx. “His land is now my land. The palace he built is mine to lay at the feet of my wife, so that is what I will do.” Rathbone’s volume grew until his speech overshadowed the newest clap of thunder.
Hades swiped his fingers over an increasingly frustrated expression. “You wed her, yet you maintain a stable of one hundred mistresses. Why is this lone female so important?”
“You answered yourself. They are my mistresses. She is my queen.” No one mattered more.
Lore was the one who’d encouraged Rathbone to establish the stable in the first place. As an ancient, she understood the customs of the gods in a manner he did not. Deities of their ilk kept paramours, she’d said, and a warrior of his renown should enjoy more than most.
Was any female more perfect?
“You cannot bring her back to life,” Hades said, giving his shoulder another pat, “but in time you’ll recover from her loss.”
Bring her back. The words echoed inside Rathbone’s head. Yes! He could do it. The ancients possessed a way, and Lore had taught him how as a just in case.
“Give me your chisel,” he commanded. The King of the Dead was never without one; Hades relished carving his initials into the bones of his enemies.
The sovereign frowned at him. “Why?”
“I will etch the Song of Life into her bones.” Rathbone kissed Lore’s brow before easing her to the rain-soaked pile of dead demons. Instinct demanded he teleport her somewhere safer, drier, and cleaner, but she’d told him location mattered. Death screeched its evil at him here, so here was where he must respond. “We’ll be together again, sweetness. I’ll give you more time—then I’ll give you the world. I swear it.”
“Rathbone—”
“You won’t change my mind about this.” He ripped the neckline of her gown, and the gauzy pink material split down the middle, revealing pale, slender curves he wanted healed now. The quicker he began, the better. But once he started, he couldn’t pause until he’d carved the last word of the song into the final bone. To pause was to ensure eternal death.
Since he would allow nothing to halt him, her return was guaranteed.
“You’re a fool if you do this,” Hades warned. “The Greeks are tricksters by nature. I should know! You should know. I guarantee she’s toying with you. See past your pride and rejoice that you’re free. Move on.”
Rathbone pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “You’ve never loved a female the way I love mine—”
“You comprehend nothing of my past, boy!” It was the first show of anger directed Rathbone’s way in centuries.
“Perhaps not,” he corrected, “but it’s obvious you do not comprehend the depths of my pain. Otherwise you’d understand the impossibility of moving on. Now, give me your chisel.”
Hades huffed with disgust but tossed the tool to the ground, just within reach. “Very well. I’ll let you continue. You are insolent, and you could use the life lesson. Just know your regret is assured. And, though I refuse to watch you throw away your future for a female you were using as a surrogate mother, I’ll take great delight in laughing in your face when you realize the error of your ways.” That said, the king stalked off.
“I’ve never used Lore as a surrogate mother,” Rathbone snarled at the king’s retreating back.
The male didn’t turn or slow. He simply lifted a hand with his middle finger extended.
With a huff of his own, Rathbone focused on the current task and palmed a dagger.
Inhaling and exhaling a deep breath, he braced for what came next...
Begin.
He cut into Lore. As quickly and seamlessly as possible, he freed bone after bone. Taking apart the female he loved broke something inside him, but he didn’t stop. They would be together again. Soon.
He would allow nothing less.
1
Present day
Rathbone tossed the liver he held into a bucket and wiped his bloody hands on his apron. All the while, the vampire strapped to a bed of stone sobbed. Of course, the blood-drinker’s chest cavity currently gaped open, displaying what remained of his vital organs, so the tears weren’t exactly a shocker.
They occupied a cell in Rathbone’s dungeon. Moans of pain and misery echoed from every direction, creating the perfect soundtrack. The only downside? A grotesque, metallic scent saturated the damp, chilly air.
“Please,” the vampire cried. “I swear to you, I’m not a spy.”
“Why did I catch you spying then?”
“You didn’t—I swear on the life of my beloved. I got lost. Was searching for—”
“Be quiet or I’ll remove your tongue,” Rathbone warned. He’d heard enough excuses and lies.
The male blubbered a few seconds more before going silent.