Between the Moon and Her Night (Between Life and Death #3)

Chapter 8

Von

I n architecture, Hard Spirits resembled a gothic cathedral more than a drinkery. Intricate, stained-glass windows provided a moody slash of red, spilling like blood on the onyx-tiled floor. It was the most renowned tavern in the Spirit Realm. It didn’t matter what day of the week it was, people lined up for miles outside, hoping for a chance to come in, just to get a taste of the God of Chaos’s famous liquor—

Spiritberry wine.

Despite its name, that shit packed a punch. Especially to those who had not built up a tolerance to it.

It was a thief of propriety, guaranteed to reduce the most high and mighty into depraved animals—guaranteed to get them on their fours, whether it be to purge their guts or have their guts purged. Some would be granted access to the basement below, the entire level devoted to making the most primitive of desires come true. People referred to it as The Dungeon . My sister had something similar in the underground chamber of her temple, though hers wasn’t quite as . . . depraved as Folkoln’s, but what more could one expect from the God of Chaos?

I sat on a slightly curved, leather settee in a private area on the second balcony, shrouded in darkness. Black velvet curtains were pulled to the sides, giving me view to the main floor, which was packed full of dancing, twirling bodies. I could see them, but they couldn’t see me.

In the middle of the floor was a polished fountain made of hematite. The body of a naked woman was carved into the stone, a sash tied over her eyes—a small hint to what waited underground. She was so very lifelike, from the dimples in her back, to the veins in her forearms. Her hand reached above her—a fine nozzle embedded in her palm. From it, spiritberry wine sprayed into the air, creating a waterfall effect around her. People gathered all around the fountain, raising their cups and filling them with the dark purple substance. Whatever wine didn’t find its way into a cup drained into the reservoir beneath, and then circled back up through the statue, repeating the cycle again and again and again.

My long legs stretched out before me, eating up the space between the glass oval table and the settee. Tonight, I’d slipped out of my dark lord attire and donned something much more casual—a partially unbuttoned black tunic tucked into leather pants. Everyone else was wearing their finest, sexy attire, dressing up in hopes of finding someone to go home with—or perhaps to go downstairs with if the invitation was presented. But that wasn’t why I was there. I was there to down a bottle or two and attempt to relax my high-strung nerves.

“Your winnings, brother,” Folkoln said as he placed a bottle on the glass table, along with two cups.

Leaning forward, I snagged the bottle, popped the cork, and poured some into a glass—the pitch of the gentle stream’s note increasing as I filled it. I raised it to my nose, inhaling the fruity, vanilla scent. “Spiritberry wine is not what I had in mind when I told you to bring me a bottle of your finest.”

“Don’t be such a liquor snob,” Folkoln said as he dropped onto a chair, adjacent to me. He snatched the bottle by the neck, his rings clanking against the glass, and poured himself some. “This isn’t like that watered-down shit I have running through the fountain. This is the good stuff. The real stuff. Guaranteed to soften the stick you’ve got wedged up your ass.” He gave me a shit-eating grin, tipped his cup to me, and then tossed it back.

I smirked, rolled my eyes, and brought the cool glass to my lips. But just before I was about to drink, I stopped, because I felt a familiar pull. One that captured my gaze and tugged it to the dance floor—right to her .

“What is it?” Folkoln asked, and then, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

I slid the untouched glass onto the table, got up, and walked over to the balcony railing, looking down below. My greedy eyes raked over the white-haired goddess who was being tugged through the densely packed, shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. The Goddess of Free Will was at the helm, steering them both towards the fountain, empty cups in their hands.

Free Will might have brought her here, but I could feel the taste of Fate in the air, the power of Destiny. All Three Spinners were weaving this part of our story, placing her in my path tonight.

And Creator above, she looked divine.

Thin fabric hugged her body, serving up her feminine curves like a Sunday buffet. I bit my bottom lip. The dress was a light lilac color, making her stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of black that surrounded her. It complimented her skin tone while highlighting her lovely snow-kissed hair—the tips swaying across the upper shelf of her peachy bottom as she walked.

I took note of all the heads swiveling her way, committing their faces to memory. It didn’t matter if they were man or woman—I’d treat them equally if they got any ideas about touching what belonged to me.

“What are you going to do now?” Folkoln asked.

“I don’t know.” I blew out a breath. “Try not to destroy your tavern, I guess.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I’m lucky it’s still standing after what happened last week with Asher and Carosena.” He sighed. “Do you want me to have her removed from the premises?”

“No, don’t do that.” I watched as she walked up to the fountain and raised her cup, her smile mesmerizing. “Let her have her fun for tonight.”

I pulled away from the railing and went to sit back down. My hand floated over the cup and went straight for the bottle. I grabbed it and chugged a third of it. It was like drinking liquid candy, sugar exploding across my tongue.

Folkoln glanced to his right and raised his hand, motioning for someone to come into the private area. A redhead walked in, scantily dressed, with a circular tray in her hands, a folded cloth napkin placed on it. “Put it there,” he told her, eyes flicking to a spot on the table in front of him.

I recognized her as one of his workers, but her name was lost to me.

She lowered the tray onto the table and then looked at him and asked, “Will that be all, my lord?”

“No, doll.” His lips twisted into a malicious smile. “I want you to do it.”

“I-I-” she stuttered. “I can’t.”

Light flashed across his dark eyes. “You can.”

“You know I can’t stand needles,” she whimpered.

“I’m well aware, that’s why I want you to do it.” He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into his lap. She squealed in both delight and terror. He nuzzled his nose against her neck, breathing her in. “You know your emotions are my favorite to feed on.”

“Yes, but you know me and needles don’t mix,” she breathed, her arms wrapping around his neck. Her lips said one thing while her actions said another.

“That’s exactly why you are going to do it.” He nipped at her nose. “I’ll take you downstairs later if you do.”

“Quit playing with your food,” I growled at Folkoln, my nerves shot.

“This is technically your fault,” he said, shooting daggers at me. With the redhead in his lap, he reached forward and flipped the sides of the napkin over, revealing a thick needle and a piercing—one that matched the one I’d slit out of his lip earlier in the arena. He pointed to the healed part of his lip and then to the other side which still had a piercing in it. “I’m uneven now.”

“I could cut the other one out,” I offered with a smirk, taking another swig from the bottle.

Folkoln didn’t respond. Instead, he said to the girl, “Go on.”

With trembling hands and eyes that looked on the verge of popping out of her head, she reached for the needle. When she picked it up, her face turned a ghastly white.

“This is painful,” I groaned before I pounded the rest of the bottle. I tossed it on to the settee, walked over to them, snatched the needle from her hand, and grabbed my brother’s bottom lip faster than he could react. “Hold still,” I snarled as I pulled his lip out and shoved the needle through it. Ichor bubbled to the surface, trickling down his chin. Folkoln didn’t so much as budge, his attention transfixed on the redhead who looked like she was going to vomit.

She scrambled off him, falling on the floor with a loud thump as she covered her mouth—dry-heaving on the spot like a cat with a fucking hairball. Why had I agreed to come here tonight?

I tossed the needle onto the tray, grabbed the piercing, and shoved it through his lip. I slapped the side of his head. “You’re even now.”

As I had absolutely no desire to watch the girl wretch on the floor, I left the private area, my shadows dissolving Folkoln’s ichor from my hands. When I descended the polished stairs, I met a familiar face, but it was not the one I was hoping to see.

“Ezra,” I greeted, my voice tepid .

“Von,” she said with a big smile. “It’s been a while.”

I couldn’t care less for pleasantries. “Why did you bring her here?”

“The poor thing has never had a real night out in her entire life,” she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “What better place to do that than Hard Spirits?” She gestured to our surroundings with her free hand, the glass of spiritberry wine in the other.

“She shouldn’t be here,” I breathed, my voice a spark, ready to ignite.

“Why shouldn’t she? Did I miss a big sign saying that the Goddess of Life is not allowed to be here?” Theatrically, she looked around.

My lips thinned. “You can cut the sarcasm.”

“Only if you cut the bullshit.”

We stared each other down.

Then Ezra said, “She has spent the majority of her life locked up in a cage. I know what she is to you, but that does not mean you need to lock her up too. Why not free her of your deal with her? Why not let her live as she chooses? When she is ready, she will come to you, but at least allow her the chance to experience life on her own terms first. She has been robbed of that for far too long.”

“Release her from our deal,” I scoffed. “Our deal is the only thing she has to protect her right now. If she does not come to live here in the Spirit Realm with me, then Aurelius will eventually find her. And then what? She’ll be forced to go back to the world she ran from.”

She huffed a laugh. “You weave your words with such a careful tongue that I almost buy into what you are trying to sell, but you and I both know there is a simple answer to all of this . . . you could let her live in Edenvale. The Endless Mist would be enough to protect her from Aurelius.”

I nodded. Once. “That’s true, I could let her live in Edenvale. If she meant nothing to me, then that’s exactly what I would do, but the fact that she is my bonded changes things. She belongs by my side, on my throne. In my bed. You and I both know that. So whatever game you are trying to play by bringing her here tonight, know that it will not change my mind. The Little Goddess will be mine .”

“You are a stubborn old god,” Ezra snipped. She looked down at her glass, peering at the contents, shaking her head. “Worse than a mule.”

I narrowed my eyes at that.

A moment passed, filled with the sounds of merriment, drunken conversations, and music.

Ezra sighed. Blue eyes lifted to mine, and she said, “She came to me, you know. Asking for my assistance in helping her break the deal between you two, but I know the only one who can free her from it is you. That is why I brought her here tonight, in hopes that you would see her dancing and enjoying herself, and find it somewhere within your rotten, black soul to give her a chance to have more than just a taste of freedom, but a lifetime of it.”

I knew that Aurelia was trying to break our deal—my ravens who had been following her over the past so many weeks had reported as much—so that really didn’t bother me. And the fact that Ezra had come up with a plan to try to appeal to my humanity, well, it was laughable.

I had none .

I slipped my hand into my pocket, tipping my chin up as I narrowed my gaze on Ezra. “Why do you suddenly care so much about her?”

“I have my reasons,” she said. “None of which I will divulge to you.”

“I find that rather suspicious. Perhaps I should be wary of you and your intentions for my mate.”

“Ha!” she laughed out. Then did it again, even louder, as if the first obnoxious laugh wasn’t ridiculous enough. “My intentions are a lot more noble than yours,” she snarled as she poked me in the chest.

“I’m skeptical of that,” I muttered as I rubbed at the spot she poked, surprised by the strength in her dinky finger—stained green at the end. All of her fingers were like that. I had heard of the potions and tonics she spent her days making, something her sisters didn’t seem too keen on. They were convinced she wasn’t pulling her weight—spinning futures with them. Although, what could one expect from the Goddess of Free Will—forcing destiny and fate upon the mortals clearly wasn’t something she was interested in.

No wonder she was telling me to free Aurelia of our deal.

We were both self-serving immortals.

Ezra shrugged and said, “Skeptical or not, I don’t really care what you are, but I will tell you something, free of seed payment, or whatever arrangement it is you have with my sisters.”

I waited, not sure if I wanted to hear another premonition because I barely knew what to make of the last one I had been told. The Goddess of Fate’s voice echoed in my mind— But heed this warning, and heed it well—your mate’s life is linked with the very male she is destined to kill . Was I the male that Aurelia would end? All things considered, it made sense. She was the one and only thing that could make me bleed—that could bring my long life to an end. And yet, that seemed too simple. Which begged the question—if not me, then who?

Regardless, the thought didn’t sit well with me.

“Sage’s happiness will come at the cost of your own.” Ezra’s voice brought me out of my private thoughts.

“What?” I asked, replaying her words, chiseling them into the eternal stonewall of my memory, right underneath the last premonition I had been told. “Who is Sage ?”

“She is,” Ezra said as she took a step back, her head turning to look out at the pulsing floor. There, surrounded by one too many males, was the Goddess of Life, dancing away.

I had never seen a more beautiful creature.

Out of all the things I expected to happen tonight, I did not expect the drunk Little Goddess to lean over the marble-top bar and steal a bottle of spirits before she left. And yet, that’s exactly what she had done. With an amused smile on my lips, I told Folkoln to add it to my tab, patted him on the back, and then I followed her and Ezra to the Living Realm.

I glanced up at the swinging wood sign, kicked back by the force of the natural wind—

The Sitting Duck Inn .

I grinned. Yet another thing to be amused about.

Keeping a careful distance, I waited for Ezra to leave before I strolled inside, protected from view by the cloak of my umbra. I followed the pull of Aurelia’s tattoos, tracking her through them.

The hallway to her room was narrow and dingy. The place smelled of must and mold. It was too small for my liking—too crammed. Too mortal. Why she had decided to stay here when she could live in the comforts of my castle was beyond me.

I could offer her so much more than this.

She would understand that soon.

A smile touched my lips, but it quickly flattened when I walked up to the wood door that looked like it was one swift kick away from falling off its wilting hinges. That was what was protecting my mate? No, that wouldn’t do. I ran my hand over the door, sinking my shadows into it, forging an invisible barrier that would protect her from any intruders—well, excluding myself.

When I was satisfied with my work, I listened in.

Her breathing was slow and even-paced, telling me that she was asleep.

Perfect .

I materialized on the other side of the door, taking in her slumbering frame. A small window allowed a bit of moonlight to spill into the room, its fingertips brushing over her skin, painting her in a soft glow.

When she turned her head to the side, my eyes narrowed in on her neck—on the thrumming veins laced beneath her ivory skin.

My fangs throbbed. My cock too.

What I wouldn’t do for a taste of her.

I stepped closer, unable to help myself. With my eyes on her closed ones, I watched for any signs of her waking as my fingers slid across her neck, tracing the vein that was calling my name. Summoning me to take. To feed.

“Soon enough, Little Goddess,” I promised her, as I retracted my hand. My silent steps carried me back, into the swirls of darkness.

Tonight, I would let her sleep.

But tomorrow?

Tomorrow, she would be mine .