Masked Fate (Fated Love #3)

CHAPTER ONE

Pandora

“Rave, put your clothes back on!” Astrid calls out, then turns to me and lowers her voice. “Does he need to put on a show for all the females every damn time?”

“I love watching you command the King of Shadows.” I smirk at Queen Astrid. “It never gets old.”

“Someone needs to keep him on his toes.” She grins, playfully nudging me with her shoulder.

“Who knew you would be the jealous, possessive type? I thought that was all Rave,” I tease.

“Look at his body, though.” She sighs softly, her hazel eyes eating up her mate.

She’s not wrong, not that I see him that way, but the Fae King has muscles for days.

The male in question picks up his tunic off the grass and slides it back on as the next two fighters get in the ring.

Yeah, he’s pussy-whipped. Astrid could tell him to destroy the entire world, and he’d do it with a sadistic grin.

Rave has a side that is pure darkness, and only Astrid can control him.

Fates help the kingdom if anything ever happens to her.

Rave has been my friend since childhood, and his fated mate has quickly become one of my closest friends. In fact, she knows my biggest secret and has somehow kept it to herself. Astrid is a seer and healer and is incredibly powerful. But her loyalty is what makes her worth her weight in gold. After not being around many females I can trust, Astrid is a breath of fresh air.

I spend a lot of time here with them in Aravelle, the Fae Kingdom, even though I am the Witch Queen and have my own kingdom, Allyria, to rule over.

If I’m being honest, I like it better here.

It’s my escape.

And he is here.

I know, I must be a masochist.

“Have you been working on your seer magic?” I ask her, knowing she’s been focused on expanding her gift and learning how to control it. Her father, Zython, betrayed her when he planned to give her up to Declan, an incubus warlord, to pay off a debt. Neither has been dealt with, and I know we likely have another upcoming war on our hands.

“Yes, I still can’t see the past, but I’m much better at controlling what I want to see,” she replies, tapping her fingers on the arm of her leather couch. “Basically, I’m more than just a matchmaker now.”

Astrid seems to get lots of visions of people’s fated mates. Many would give anything for that information, but I guess it doesn’t help much in battle.

It also doesn’t help me because I’ve known for some time now who my mate is.

Soren.

Rave’s best friend and right-hand man. He’s known for being a strong fighter, the best tracker in all eight kingdoms, and for fucking anything that walks.

He’s a hit-it-and-quit-it male known for only sleeping with females once.

Soren has made a lifestyle out of one-night stands.

No one has had a repeat.

Of course, my mate had to be a witch-hating fuckboy with commitment issues.

And that’s why I masked him from discovering the cold, hard truth—that the witch he can barely look at is actually his fated mate. Sometimes I question if I’m doing the right thing, but at the end of the day, Soren hates witches, and after everything he’s been through, I can understand why.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

Soren is a wild card—you never know what side of him you will get. He is a heartbreaker and a manwhore but also the chilled-out, funny one. He has a wicked sense of humor, at least for anyone who isn’t me. He’s a good man. A warrior. He’s the one who makes people feel comfortable, but he also has a temper and likes being in control. No, not like—he needs it. I’ve heard whispers about what he prefers in the bedroom. He’s dominant as fuck and treats his females like his own personal playthings.

And above all, he hates me.

“And what are you doing about your mate situation?” she asks, twirling her fingers around the end of her long braid. She’s beautiful, with almond-shaped hazel eyes and a figure females would die for.

“The same as the last time you asked. I’m doing nothing,” I reply, pursing my lips.

Yeah, she knows my darkest secret, all right.

“Pandora…”

“It is what it is,” I murmur.

She hesitates for a few moments before speaking, “You know, I love Soren, and I don’t mean to be a petty bitch, but I think you need to teach him a lesson. Kiss someone. Fuck someone. Enjoy your life. He doesn’t deserve you to be loyal to him with the way he treats you.”

“I haven’t been loyal. I gave August my virginity, remember?”

“Well, go and climb back on him then because you deserve to have someone worshiping you, and unless you are going to tell Soren the truth, he’s going to continue to be a dick.”

Speaking of the devil, Soren appears as if summoned, his twin swords strapped to his back. Lately, he’s been favoring those instead of his usual short swords. He’s wearing all black with a tunic that shows off his smooth, tanned chest and his sleeves rolled up to expose his corded forearms.

I want to trace the veins along there with my tongue.

“My queen,” Soren greets Astrid, his words formal, but the gentle touch he gives her cheek, anything but. I know they are close, but I can’t help but feel a dash of jealousy that hits me every time I see how caring and loving he is with her. The burning sensation in my chest isn’t new, but it still makes it difficult for me to breathe.

He dips his head at me. His gray eyes, shaded in dark, heavy lashes, only land on me for a split second, and I’m lucky even to get that.

Astrid’s eyes flash to mine in sympathy, but she doesn’t say anything. I know she wants to, but she won’t for my sake. “Soren, where have you been?”

He runs his tongue over his upper lip, which is slightly fuller than his bottom, then smirks. “Was getting some cardio in as a warmup.”

Astrid winces slightly and closes her eyes before taking a deep breath. “Soren—”

“Fucking, then fighting. My life really doesn’t get any better than this.”

And mine clearly can’t get any worse.

I know Soren sleeps around, but he thinks he hasn’t met his mate yet, so I can’t blame him. I spent one night with August, Astrid’s best friend, and I felt so guilty that I couldn’t do it again.

Soren doesn’t know, but I do.

I might have had a night of physical satisfaction, but the Soren-shaped void is still there.

August wanted to keep seeing me, but I told him I couldn’t, no matter how good he was in bed. It also wasn’t fair to him.

Soren is his friend, and the whole situation is fucking messy.

I keep digging myself deeper into this pit of lies I’ve created for myself.

“Well, I’m glad you are having such a good day,” Astrid replies in a dry tone, clearing her throat. Her eyes drop to the necklace I’m wearing—the black diamond that masks the bond between Soren and me. “You know, Pandora, August was asking about you the other day.”

“Was he?” I reply, my brow furrowing.

What is she playing at here?

Soren swings his gaze back to me, his brows arching. “Hope he knows what he’s getting into with a witch.”

Astrid’s head snaps back to him. “Excuse me? Apologize, Soren. Not all witches are evil. Pandora is one of my closest friends, and I trust her with my life.”

“I’m not apologizing for speaking the truth. Bad blood is bad blood,” he replies, stretching his neck from side to side, drawing my attention to the brutal scar from one side of his throat to the other.

Proof that someone tried to end his life and failed.

And that someone was my mother.

Bad blood.

I wasn’t there when Soren was held captive and tortured in Allyria.

I wasn’t queen then or even in the Witch Kingdom.

But he still holds me accountable.

And that is the reason why I will never take off this necklace.

I will sit by, suffering in silence while my fated mate fucks around with every willing female, wondering what my life could have been like if things were different.

But they aren’t.

And this is my reality.

I normally avoid these thoughts about him as much as possible because they’re pointless.

And they hurt.

Soren is all I’ve ever wanted and the one thing I will never fucking have.