Destiny

ALASTAIR

She was suspended in the air, glowing like a beacon of hope. Her skin radiated a pure white light that filled the throne room, reaching every corner.

Her eyes were gently closed, as if she was in a peaceful sleep. Her chest rose, arching her back towards the sky. She was the most beautiful woman the king had ever seen.

His mate. The fae wolf he loved.

She was trapped in a glowing force field that held her aloft. It flashed and exploded outward, its energy reaching beyond the room, beyond the castle, maybe even beyond the kingdom.

The darkness that once consumed her was now consumed by her. It was swallowed whole, sucked inside her. She was finally in control of herself, the light balancing the dark once more.

Then, suddenly, she lost the light and fell from the sky.

Alastair snapped out of his trance just in time to catch her. His marks still adorned her neck, a testament to his possessive nature.

In his arms, she was as delicate as a flower. His finger traced her soft cheek, savoring the feeling of his skin against hers. Was she truly saved? Was she on the right path now?

Her destiny had been set before she was born; before he was born. There were two paths for her. He hoped she was now on the right one. He hoped she would love him back, obey him, and truly be his.

He didn’t want any more lies between them. This time, he would protect her with everything he had.

Ignoring everyone else in the room, he carried her back to their chambers and tucked her into bed.

Her skin was cold to the touch. He decided to hold her, to share his warmth with her. He needed to know what had happened, whether he had succeeded in his mission.

A sudden gasp forced him to let go and look at her beautiful face. Her lips were slightly parted as she took in the air she needed to breathe. Then her eyes fluttered open.

When her gaze landed on the king, her breath hitched and she moved as far away from him as she could without falling off the bed. She watched him warily. He stood there, simply watching her in return.

She could be pretending. She was good at that.

“What are you going to do?” she asked in a small voice. The king remained silent as he moved closer to her.

“Do?” he growled.

“For what I did. You won. Congratulations,” she said bitterly, looking down. “Before you lock me up forever, tell me how.” She looked up at him again.

“Little wolf.” She flinched at the affection in his voice.

She thought it was a game. After everything she had done, she wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to toy with her before her eternal punishment.

She was sure his dungeons would be more effective now that he knew what she was.

Aurelia stepped back, creating distance between them, but Alastair kept closing the gap.

“Stop moving.” She obeyed, cursing herself for doing so. But she was vulnerable.

She was no longer under the influence of the darkness, and the weight of everything she had done came crashing down on her. It was relentless.

The lives she had taken, without mercy or reason. The fate she had inflicted on her own father and Ellathoria. Even though they had tried to trick her, such a punishment was not her style. Nothing was.

She knew nothing about being a ruler. And she had made a mess of everything. She was a tyrant.

Nothing like the king. He ruled with a firm hand, but the people respected him, and the queen. She was a child pretending to be a queen. Such power should never have been given to her.

She would never use her gift again. It made her vulnerable.

That’s why she couldn’t escape the king. There was no way. His wrath would consume her, and she would live in utter desolation forever. It was what she deserved.

Her sister. Lochlan. What had she done? She had killed them. They were dead. Together.

Tears blurred her vision, running down her neck and soaking her gown. She forgot about the king’s presence. She was consumed by grief.

How could she mourn her sister when she was the cause of her death? She ripped the crown from her head and threw it against the nearest wall. Her sobs echoed through the room; her heart was tearing itself apart.

She was a monster. There was no undoing the crimes she had committed. There was no turning back time. She would always live with what she had done. She had traded her soul for this torment.

No prison could be worse than the one she had trapped herself in. The suffering was relentless, as merciless as she had been.

She hadn’t hesitated when she struck down her own flesh and blood. Maybe they didn’t love each other. But they were sisters; they were supposed to protect each other.

Aurelia had failed. Worse, it was by her own hand.

Suddenly, a large body enveloped her, wrapping around her and filling her senses with his masculine scent.

She knew it was the king, but she couldn’t quite comprehend the idea of him comforting her, albeit awkwardly.

It was as if someone had shoved a pole up his ass, and he didn’t know how to relax. She would have laughed at the thought if she wasn’t drowning in her own guilt.

She buried her face in his chest and sobbed silently. Her shame was tearing her apart, trying to kill her, but she couldn’t die, of course.

“I don’t like it,” the king growled, pushing her back slightly with his large, calloused hands on her shoulders. He looked at her.

One hand swiped away her tears as if they were annoying flies on her face. The man knew nothing about tenderness.

She tilted her head to the side, confused by the king’s actions. At least he had distracted her from her self-pity.

“No crying,” he ordered, confusing her even more.

Now he was commanding her sorrow. There was nothing she could do to stop him. And she wouldn’t. She deserved everything that was coming to her.

“The destiny spell,” he said suddenly, capturing her attention again. She furrowed her brow in confusion. “That’s how I won.”

“I thought that spell was impossible,” she murmured in response, afraid of angering the king. He was still short-tempered, and nothing had changed. She was still walking on eggshells, despite everything.

“We had to find something other than magic to power it,” he explained. “Cathan thought his thirst for revenge would be enough when he tried to use it against me, but it wasn’t.”

“So what did you use?” she asked.

“Love.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she cocked her head to the side, puzzled.

What did he mean by love? Did they use Cathan’s love? Was it potent enough to cast that spell? Was it more powerful than his desire for revenge?

It must have been, considering he had teamed up with the king to rescue her. And she had wanted him dead when he had betrayed her during her rule. She had put a price on his head, and yet, he loved her in return.

“Cathan—”

“No,” he snarled, shoving her back against the wall. “Don’t you dare say his fucking name, Aurelia!”

“I don’t understand,” she whimpered.

“My love,” he said, stunning her.

He loved someone. He loved someone enough to power the spell.

“Don’t play dumb, little wolf. My love for you.” For her? That left her rooted to the spot.

She didn’t blink. She didn’t utter a word. She couldn’t even question it. It was an utterly unthinkable admission. The king couldn’t possibly love her. He wasn’t capable of love.

He was playing her.

“No...”

“I love you, and you’re going to love me back.”