As gently as he could, he carried her to her cabin and placed her on her bed. Then he set about preparing the potion that would restore her strength and heal her injuries. All the while trying to come to terms with a side of her he’d never suspected existed.
Honestly? He liked it.
Black looked good on her.
It was why he’d do anything to heal her. Even use the darkest kind of magick he’d learned from his father. The kind his Druidic forefathers had specialized in. Unlike the rest of their breed, the Dumnonii branch of the Aesir hadn’t been just counselors, teachers, and priests, they’d been warriors, too. Protectors imbued with a fierce sense of noblesse oblige to safeguard the fledgling humans from their brethren who’d sought to harm them.
Descended from the gods themselves, the Dumnonii had been the ones who’d established the Druidic orders and taught them the ways of magick and given them their wisdom and ability to commune with the gods. They had brought order to the world of man. It was why their home realm had been termed Asgard and not Asaheim. Why the world of man was known as Myddangeard or Mydgard and not Mydanheim. This wasn’t just the home realm of mankind or Asgard the home of the Aesir. These two realms were where they’d brought order and discipline to the chaos of it all. They were wards set up to protect humanity.
When the primal gods and their creations had been at each other’s throats and were tearing the universe apart, this was where his ancestors had drawn the battle lines and put the boundaries that protected humans from their armies that would have destroyed them. From their monstrous creations that would have preyed on the humans without mercy.
Out of all the nine known and established realms, only these two worlds bore the protective “gard” suffixes that designated them as places of human refuge. Places where order and discipline reigned supreme over animalistic, primal urges.
The rest were the home realms of horrific preternatural predators who made feasts and war on humanity. Realms where the gods and others lived and ran rampant with unchecked powers. Home dimensions that existed behind carefully crafted veils that shielded them from human knowledge and sight.
Alfheim. Myrkheim. Jotunheim. Niflheim. Muspelheim. Helheim.
Even Mara’s precious Vanaheim, where her Vasir had descended from. They were all the realms of some of the most vicious creatures ever spawned by the universe. Creatures who cared nothing for humanity, who only thought of themselves and what they wanted. Creatures who saw humans as prey or tools to be used and then discarded.
Creatures such as Vine.
Creatures like me.
Devyl winced at a truth he wanted to deny and couldn’t. He hated that part of his mother’s blood that beat inside him. He always had. But no matter how much he tried to fight it, he couldn’t deny that it was there. That selfish part that was forever tainted by a union that should never have been. It was what had made his father so weak and hate-filled in his latter years. Had Axe been an honorable Aesir, dedicated to their cause, he wouldn’t have been the monster Devyl had been forced to kill that night in their hall.
I am a beast.
Like father, like son.
Like mother, like son.
He would never be able to escape it. But at least he could stop Vine from destroying the world. That was one promise he would keep, no matter what.
And sooner or later, he’d have to be put down again. Mara had been right about that. It was why he didn’t expect to survive this quest. Didn’t expect Thorn to free him. Not for one heartbeat. He had no delusions there whatsoever.
His kind didn’t belong in this world. They were the worst sort of predators. Mara knew it as well as he did. He was barely leashed on his best day. His ancestral fury simmered just below the surface, ever a pot on a steady roiling boil that just waited to overflow the edges of its confines. All it took was one blink, and a disaster would ensue that didn’t care whose hand it scalded.
No conscience. No constraint.
Nothing mattered except that he destroy whatever was nearest him, consequences be damned.
Aye, that be he.
And his explosion was coming. He could feel it deep within. His Sight was ever unerring. His mother’s one gift to her son, besides the back of her hand. Dera had been an exceptionally gifted sorceress in that regard. ’Twas what had led his father to her. Why Axe had wanted to bind their bloodlines together and had sought the treaty with her tribe.
Too bad she’d failed to see what a scabbing bastard his father was. Or her own fate at the hands of the worthless son she’d birthed for him.
Don’t think about it.
The past was a course that had been cast and set. Cruelty laid in by the gods to torture those who survived it. He needed all his resources and attention on the future. That was still in motion and changeable.
While he’d been unable to save his Elf and his people, he had a chance to help those on this ship. To help the Seraph and his sister.
His own soul was blackened and unworthy of redemption, but theirs were not. They were good and decent beings who’d lost their way. With a little prodding, they could go on and find the right path again.
That was what Thorn had seen in them. Hope. Redemption. Core goodness. And as a commander, Devyl understood that strategy. To win, certain sacrifices had to be made for the good of all.
He was the pawn that would be leveraged so that they could live on. An acceptable loss for all involved. Perhaps even a relief to them.
And as he cast the healing spell for Mara, he realized that she shouldn’t be part of any of this. She should never have been. His selfish wrath had snared her and brought her into a war that was never hers to fight.
“I’m sorry, Mara,” he whispered for the first time, as the guilt of his actions against her choked him.
If only he could find some way to unbind their destinies and free her, too. She deserved to have a life of her own. One that didn’t involve his surly, unreasonable ass. She would have made someone a fine mother. An incredible mate to stand by the side of her husband. Any man would have been lucky to call her his. He alone had robbed her of that.
Disgusted by his own actions, he brushed his thumb over her gentle brow. She was so incredibly beautiful. But then, she’d always been that way to him. And while in the past he’d often seen her as an annoying vexation, as an enemy to be hated, today, he saw her for what she really was.…
His innocent victim.
And he hated himself all the more.
“I will make this up to you.” Words spoken so easily. As all vows were. The trick was in the fulfillment of them. The devil in the details.
But then, he wasn’t called Devyl Bane without a reason.
He picked her delicate hand up and rubbed her limp fingers against his lips. Closing his eyes, he tried his best to access his Sight and see the future.
Like everything else in his life, it failed him utterly. It shouldn’t surprise him. He’d never been able to depend on anything when he needed it. His own horse had once thrown him in battle. His sword had broken at the worst possible time.