Page 67 of Fate Promised

Juri scrambled to his feet. The shop near him was the armorer’s place. Outside, a forge built of brick stood, coals blazing dark red. Along the road, gas lamps hung on iron hooks from tall posts, waiting to be lit for nightfall. Juri leaped up, snagged a lamp hanging on its hook near him, and then dashed to the forge. Behind him, shouts rang out as the clan villagers attacked. A whoosh of flame blew hot breath along his back, and a spark singed his neck.

Without putting on leather gloves, he shoved his hand with the lamp into the coals. The ground shook as the shade stepped closer.

The lamp caught.

Juri sprinted, ducking around the porch of the farmers’ market where several watermelons sat burning. He tossed the lamp into the bonfire pit.

The oil in the lamp splashed along the logs and flames flared over the wood. The shade turned, and even though its mouth was only a black gash, it was clear to see the lips twist into a sneered as it repeated, “The time for the vulk is over.”

The shade threw a massive fireball at Juri’s head. He dodged, but the edge seared his shoulder. A dark-gray figure flew by him and launched itself at the shade.

Kyril.

Snarls filled the air as fire licked over Kyril, but the other vulk dug his claws deep into the shade’s neck and hung on. A high-pitched shriek sounded. The clan men stabbed with their iron swords, but Juri wasn’t certain the shade noticed.

The shade staggered and stepped backward toward the fire. Was fire good or bad?

Juri crouched and barreled forward. When he reached the shade, he hit it along the side and back of its knees. The shade shrieked again and toppled.

As the shade fell into the fire, Juri grabbed Kyril’s arm and yanked him back.

The fire hit the shade, turning the black flame of its body a vivid orange. It was instantly engulfed, seeming to liquefy into steam before their eyes. It shrieked again, “The vulk, your families … it’s only a matter of time before you’re all dead.” With a last gasp, the shade evaporated into a puff of dark smoke.

The memory faded.

Juri sucked in a breath. Without realizing it, he’d joined Triska on the bed, and she tucked herself next to him, rubbing his arm. “You’ve seen the permanent burn marks on her arm. Simply because she had a vulk child.”

“Juri—”

“Our Alpha, Anders, told me what happened with my mother was why the vulk take no mates and separate from their family. We put the non-vulk around us at risk. That’s why it’s best for us to walk alone.” He swallowed. “I did eventually return to visit her, but it was always at night, and with a lot of precautions.”

He ran his hand over the shiny mark on her chest where the lightning had scarred her. “Look at you. A little over a week with me and I got you imprisoned on an island, sent to Peklo, and almost killed. Anders was right.”

Triska ran her hand up his chest and snuggled closer. “Your life is about keeping everyone else safe. But it’s impossible to think you can do that alone. And the … adventure … we’re on right now, it’s not your fault.” She cupped his cheek and tilted his face down toward her.

He heard her words but dismissed them. His entire existence was protecting Ulterra. Protecting her. And he’d failed.

“All those years,” she whispered. “I would have liked you in my life.”

His heart squeezed. He reached for her and drew her close. When her arms slid around his neck, he sighed. A sense of everything being right again washed over him. “Every time I touch you, it makes it harder and harder to imagine returning to a life without you in it. But I’m a vulk, and I have no soul. I can’t offer you anything, even if I wanted to.”

Triska stiffened beneath his hands, the muscles of her back bunching. He shouldn’t have said the words out loud. They had no future.

Triska let out a breath. “There’s still something I need to tell you—”

A loud rap pounded on their door. Juri growled. “Go away.”

“This is my palace, and I won’t be ordered around. Already I’m a messenger for Fergal, who requires your help but is too feeble or lazy to walk the short distance to this room.”

Juri ran his hand over his hair and surveyed the scraps of Triska’s clothes lying everywhere. “Do you need me to get you something to wear?”

She shook her head. “No, there’s a chest in here with clothes that fit. I’ll wash up and join you in the parlor in a minute.”

He nodded, started for the door, then wheeled back. He picked her up and held her close, running his jaw over her head. She hugged him back, her grip fierce.

He held her like that for a long moment, never wanting to let go.

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