13

Theodore

 

 

Twelve thousand years wore hard on a man.

He’d seen many things, learned too much and not enough.

But seeing Thalia with her other mates was interesting.

Of course, he was jealous.

He wanted her wrapped in his arms, wanted his mouth on hers, but it wasn’t the kind of jealousy he’d ever felt with Brian, for example. He’d seen his lover flirt, had felt a kind of moody rage at having his limits crossed, but this was different.

This was safe, because he knew, no matter what, Thalia would seek no other outside of the tangle of mates their Goddess had given her.

She’d been born to be his, but she’d also been born to be Rafe’s and Mikkel’s.

What he saw as he watched the two pairings, however, was how each provided Thalia with something she’d been lacking and desperately needed.

Rafe had coddled her almost, shielding her in a way that should have scraped at her Alpha sensibilities. It wasn’t parental or fatherly, even though he sensed Rafe was close to double Thalia’s age—still, pocket change in comparison to Theo’s own years. But it was interesting. She deferred to him. She sought him out for comfort and emotional safety, and yet, the heat in her eyes belied it all. When Rafe had walked off, his cock hard and jutting his fly, it, too, had belied the relationship they shared.

Was it succor?

Theo wasn’t sure, but he knew the dynamic would intrigue him until he sussed it out.

Then, there was Mikkel. He’d leaped on her in a way that had surprised Theo because he could sense the other man’s control. It vibrated under his skin like a cage, and Thalia seemed to have found the key to freeing him. Was it his beast? Metaphorical, of course, he was one-hundred percent human, after all. But she’d released something, that was for damn certain.

Even now, as he looked at the moody blue eyes staring at him, defiance throbbing from her pores, he could remember the nip Thalia had placed on Mikkel’s bottom lip—the teeth marks free and clear. And he could see the ravages of Mikkel’s kiss on her mouth, too.

She stood there, tossed and tumbled from other males’ caresses and Theo felt. . . .

He blew out a breath.

What did he feel?

“Push your wings out,” she said softly, but a command was threaded through the words.

He cocked a brow at her terseness, but obeyed. Her fascination didn’t come as a surprise, most creatures were stunned at the sight of a Fae’s wings, but the underlying emotion underneath that bewilderment did make him purse his lips.

The Fae were like peacocks.

A male’s wings were pretty, large, and with a huge span. They were heavy with feathers, and the shoulder rootings were thick and gnarled—not just to sustain weight but also to attract females.

All Fae were beautiful. Ugly children were not born to beautiful creatures. Never, not in a thousand years, had he seen a Fae that was anything less than a fifteen on a scale of ten. They gleamed with a vitality of magic that shone from their pores and made them iridescent—especially to humans. They had perfect features, gorgeous coloring, and bodies that were made to be worshipped.

The wings were what set them apart.

Theo’s wings were larger than most, but the coloring was dull. Reminiscent of an eagle’s, dove-gray with glossy white interspersed, black ones sprouting here and there.

Most Fae females preferred the brighter colors, but Theo had never cared for a Fae female’s tastes. If anything, he’d been relieved they’d gone for the true peacocks. As the eldest of his mother’s spawn, he’d always been at the heart of feminine intrigue at court, so when his brothers had appeared, their wings coming in bright blues and greens, he’d been happy for the women to meander his kin’s way.

Those women were seeking face-value beauty. Where the true stock of a male’s glory was the wing rooting. It wasn’t pretty, no, but it was a testament to a man’s true nature.

His were thick like tree trunks. Roped with veins and pulsing with life. He trained and had worked them hard. He was one of the fastest flyers in his mother’s kingdom for a reason. His brothers’ rootings were thin and limp, they’d never be able to sustain the spreading of their wings as Thalia was insisting from him. And so, with no small amount of amusement, he found himself posturing for her, without her even knowing it.

Or, maybe she did, because she frowned as she eyed the large span and asked, “Isn’t it hard to keep them wide like that?”

He gave that the answer it deserved. “Yes.”

Her eyes flashed to his. “Truly?”

His lips twitched. “I will never lie to you.”

A scowl came and went at his words, the simplicity of his statement hit her hard, but she bullishly pushed it aside to focus on the here and now, “Why don’t you look like you’re struggling to maintain the hold?”

“Because I’ve trained them,” he told her simply.

“What? Like worked out?”

“Yes.”

“How do you do that?”

“Glamor.”

“You’re the king of one word answers today, aren’t you?” she said with a grumble, folding her arms across her chest.

“Maybe,” he said slyly, his grin spreading as wide as his wings as he watched her pout. “I use what you’d call magic,” he explained, “to shield my presence on radars and other pathetic human constructs. It means they can’t see me, visually or electronically.”

“So, you go flying?” she asked, and he wasn’t unaware of her excitement.

“Why, little girl, would you like me to take you flying?” he asked, his voice silky. Her eyes flared at his phrasing, and he watched her lick her lips.

“Would you?”

“Of course. It is a male’s pleasure to fly with his female.” It was also a male’s pleasure to fuck his female while flying, but he didn’t think she was ready for that.

At the simple declaration, she frowned and sat down on the lounger with a plop. She waved a hand at him, “You can retract them if you want.”

“Do they offend you, or can I let them loose? It feels good to have the sun on them. The feathers are darker for not having been touched by its rays in so long,” he murmured when she tilted her head to the side curiously.

“Leave them loose by all means,” she said hoarsely. “Well,” she admitted, licking her lips, “if you don’t mind me gaping at them, because they’re beautiful.”

He preened a little, and he knew she saw it. His wings, of their own volition, like his body was in control and not him, ruffled, the feathers twitching and soaring. He watched her nostrils flare, and she said, “They smell of something. I’m not sure what.” She gnawed at her bottom lip as he sat down opposite her again, his elbows on his knees.

He could have been offended at her statement, but he wasn’t. They did smell. Of him. He watched, in interest, as she moved again, kneeling on the lounger that had separated them and used the new proximity to lean over.

Knowing her intent, he stayed still. He wanted to grab her, tuck her onto his lap the way he’d seen Rafe do a hundred times already in the short time Theo had been there, but he didn’t. This was a trust exercise.

She’d been strangely aggressive in her desire to ignore him since his arrival.

He wasn’t sure why, not when he’d seen the relief she found in Rafe’s presence, and Mikkel’s, too, even if the human had been avoiding their mate bond—something that was bound to change shortly if that kiss was any indication.

The drifting of Thalia’s fingers through the feathers at the lower half of his right wing dragged him from his thoughts. He barely contained a moan as the slight touch brought his nerve endings to life in a way she’d never be able to understand.

Theo watched with hooded eyes as she drew her fingers back and raised them to her nose. “It’s like ozone,” she whispered, her tone confused. “And how I’d imagine water would smell. Wind, too.” She blinked. “That makes no sense.”

“On the contrary, my clever mate, it makes perfect sense. I’m aligned with water and wind.”

Her eyes flared wide. “Your magic is elemental?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t realize that’s how Fae magic worked.” At her own words, he realized, she grimaced. “Not that I knew much about Fae magic or the Fae, period, before you came here.”

He conceded that with a nod of his head. “I can imagine. We’re very secretive by nature.”

“Do you draw power from the Earth?”

“Yes.” At his answer, she huffed a breath, and he smiled, slowly, at her exasperation. “Have you heard of Yahweh?”

She tilted her head to the side. “No. Should I know it?”

“Yahweh and Asherah were the Gods of the Israelites. Asherah was his wife, until she got blotted out of existence and Yahweh became the one true ‘human’ deity . . . he evolved into Jehovah.”

Thalia frowned. Intrigued, he could tell, from the way she sat back on her heels, her gaze trained on him. Confused, too, from the tilt of her head. “Jehovah, the Christian God?”

“Yes. The two ruled, most human texts wouldn’t necessarily say side by side, but they did. Yahweh and Asherah are the first human names for your Mother Goddess and her consort, Caelus.”

Interest flashed in her eyes. “Caelus and Terra?”

“Aye. Amusing, is it not, that Caelus gets all the credit now when it is Terra who is most powerful?” He grinned. “I’m certain that does not please her.”

“I can imagine. Talk about sexist,” she said with a grimace. “But what does that have to do with your magic?”

“We share gods, of course. Terra is of the Earth, Caelus of the Cosmos. Mare of the Sea, and Aer of the air.”

She swallowed. “Who are the last two?”

“Terra’s consorts,” he said, his tone soothing, fully aware those two gods were lost in tomes of Roman mythology to most beings.

“Consorts?” she squeaked.

He grinned. “Aye. You’re born in the Mother’s image, Thalia. It was foretold, a long time ago.”

“What was?” she whispered.

“The trouble is,” he said musingly, “humans have made such a muddle of the timeline that it’s made things confusing.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning then?” she asked, her voice high pitched, her eyes wide and sparkling with both worry and wonder.

His wings rippled again, loving that her focus was fully on him for the first time. There was no hiding now, she was absorbed in his words. He’d have preferred her to be absorbed by him, but he’d take what he could get from his fractious mate.

“From the void of Chaos, Terra, Caelus, Mare, and Aer were born,” he informed her gently. “From her loins, sprung the world as we know it. Everything we see here today came to be because she and her lovers created it. This universe exists because she bore it.”

“O-Okay,” she whispered softly, encouragingly.

“After they created the soil and the sea, the wind and the light, they created people. At first, their children were the Fae. We were made in their image. Our magic is from them, their blessings are our gifts. We lived in paradise, content, happy, until Morningstar was tempted and fell from grace.

“He broke Mother’s heart. Terra never forgave the Fae, and she punished us, like the rambunctious children we are to her. Then, she and her consorts realized the Earth needed more than just the Fae to populate it. She created supernaturals. Creatures touched with the gifts from the deities, but not made in their image like the Fae. When they were evolved, then came humans.”

“S-So, where the Fae live, it’s what the Bible considers Eden?”

He shrugged. “Yes. We call it Heden, though, and it is a paradise.”

“Can Morningstar go there?”

“No. He was cast out, alongside others he aligned to his cause.” Theo rubbed his nose. “We weren’t allowed outside the gates of Heden. Heden was our home. But, our godly Mother and Fathers forgot one thing . . . they created us in their image, and who were they if not explorers? Seekers? Adventurers and inventors.

From their powers, they created a whole universe, and they expected their firstborn to live among each other in Heden?” He shook his head. “They were shortsighted. Temptation lives among us all, and there is no shame in that, but Morningstar decided he needed to explore. He used the same reasoning I just did to back up his argument.

The gates weren’t locked,” he said, tone musing. “They were open. The invitation to leave was there, as heady to Eve as the Apple in the Bible. In the distance, there is a sea and a mountain range.” Theo pulled a face. “In his shoes, could I blame him for wanting to know what was out there? I don’t know. Morningstar is hundreds of thousands of years old. What you know as Eden may be paradise, but everyone gets bored,” he said ruefully. “When he went exploring, he and those who went with him were cast out, and as punishment, basic gifts that were given to us at birth were rescinded.”

She licked her lips. “Like what?”

Her interest was palpable, and he found himself pleased by her attention. Chiding himself for a fool, considering this was a tale infant Fae were told at nighttime, he murmured, “Just like in the Bible. Everything in there comes from a fount of truth, it’s just skewed.”

“What do you mean? Like, Eve was condemned to have painful childbirth?”

“Things like that, yes. Before, we couldn’t die. Now, we can. We live a long time, but we can die. Childbirth is painful, and it can kill our females. It’s very rare, but it does happen. Worse though, where before we could have dozens of children each, it became common to have one or two, or sometimes even none. And before, food was not necessary. We didn’t need it. Now, we do, and we have to sow the earth for food.”

“Wow,” she whispered. “It’s so weird. It’s like what happened in the Creation tale but different.”

“See what I mean? From a human perspective, it’s slanted. It’s the same, but not.” He reached up to rub his nose. “Anyway, where the Fae live is considered heaven. The Fae are Terra and her consorts’ first children, so to the humans, we are angels. Morningstar, cast out like the devil, is our ‘opposite,’” he said, using air quotes. “He doesn’t live in hell, though, he lives on Earth–which, to many Fae, could be considered hell.”

“But not to you?”

He shook his head. “No. I like it here. Humans are amusing.”

“That sounds condescending,” she said, her nose wrinkling.

“Probably because it is,” he agreed with a quick grin. “Just as they find circuses amusing and entertaining, I find their foibles to be the same.” Though her eyes flared in surprise, he carried on, “Fae live on Olympus—”

“Like Mount Olympus?” Thalia squeaked, unseating herself from her kneeling position on the lounger to scuttle over to his side. His wing, again of its own volition—or so he told himself—came out to shield her, curling about her without touching. “Where Zeus lives?”

He grinned at her childish wonder. “Aye. But Zeus is Fae. We are considered unearthly among humans, after all.”

She blew out a breath. “This is insane.”

“Perhaps. Insane but true.”

“Y-You said I was born in Terra’s image. Why did you say that?”

“Since Morningstar’s rebellion, the Fae have been looking for a means of. . . .” He winced. “I suppose seeking forgiveness is the right way to phrase it. But we digress. Let me continue, and I will explain what I know.”

She nodded. “Sorry. I’m just fascinated.”

“That I can see,” he told her, his lips curving. “Certain things that happened in the Bible are true. Not all, at least, not from the same perspective.

“Though Terra was always considered the Queen, and her consorts ruled at her side, along the way, the humans changed that. And as supernaturals stayed out of their communities, they never altered human perception.

“Because human culture is male dominant–for whatever reason that may be, Yahweh made an appearance, Asherah becoming his consort, rather than the other way around. And in the mix, Aer and Mare were lost to the ether. This became a part of supernatural culture, too. Only the Fae knew of the four Gods. Supernaturals believe in two, with the majority of humans believing in just the one with varied names.”

“It’s not who you know, it’s what you know,” she paraphrased succinctly, twisting the common phrase around.

“Very clever,” he said on a grin. “And yes. The Fae’s arrogance is upheld by such knowledge. But, because of Morningstar, things changed. We used to communicate freely with Terra and her consorts, but she denied us access to her as punishment. She ceased showing us favor, instead, gifting it to her newer creations, supernaturals and humans. We were jealous and spoiled, unused to not being Mother’s pets.

“But as a result, we started to mingle among the other beings in a universe that once belonged to us alone. We explored this realm, made it our own in many ways humans can’t begin to understand—our blessings in Olympus are commonplace, but here, we can control the elements, make them our own. Many of us stay here for those abilities, and as a result, when things happened in the human world, we became aware of it.”

“What things?”

“Like the ten commandments.”

Her eyes rounded. “What about them?”

“That was the first time Terra communicated with anyone since Morningstar’s fall. Though the rules were for humankind, there were also messages for us.” He sucked in a breath, and as he’d done days before, he recounted the words that had been passed down through the ages,

“And there shall come a day, when a child of light shall swathe through the darkness. She shall bathe in the blood of her enemies as she fights for those who are weaker than her. But she is pure, good. All that is decent.

“A child born of three bound souls, her magic deeper than bones and cleansing, purified by a triad born of a triad.

The light shall imbue her in the shape of the Mother. From her fruitful loins can forgiveness be sought. She shall have the power to bring war, but she is a unit striving for peace. Three bore her, three shall tame her, and three will reign at her side.

Her trinity of mates will be her guiding light, the final end to counter the bright star of morning’s powers.”

Thalia gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “The prophecy.”

“Aye.”

“Sweet gods, this is insane.”

He couldn’t contain his laughter. “You already said that.”

“I know, but that’s because it’s bat-shit.”

“Perhaps.” He watched as she ran her hands through her hair, rubbing at the crown with the tips of her fingers, mussing up the white gold locks. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I don’t have all the answers. I will always tell you what I know, and even though that might seem like a lot, it isn’t.”

She blinked at that. “The Elders say the Goddess, or Mother as we also call her, talks to them. Is that a lie?”

“No,” he said slowly, staring out over the distance where the sea and sky merged, the two distinct blues forever separate. “After the ten commandments, the Fae were dealt another punishing blow. Terra chose to speak to the humans, she knew religion was the way to police their numbers. Whether it was a miscalculation or intended, humans can procreate with quantities that require ingrained policing. It was vital she instill morals in them, morals they couldn’t learn without the touch of a deity setting them in stone.”

“Literally,” Thalia said drily. “If that Charlton Heston movie is anything to go by.”

“It’s a relief to see that the youth of today are getting their knowledge from Hollywood movies,” he retorted with a snort. When she chuckled, he just rolled his eyes. “But yes. Literally. Then, she realized the supernaturals were the same. They had powers that made them infinitely more dangerous than the humans, and they, too, required help. But, as they were blessed in different ways, the Fae have come to believe that she knew they needed more in-depth help with matters that humans would never be affected by.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Thalia whispered slowly. “If any of this could ever make sense.”

“It is a strange tale that is true. The long and the short of it is, the Fae have been seeking a way to commune with Terra for a long time, and the prophecy is the way to do that.

“We’ve been seeking a child, born of three, mated to three, and, we believe, she will bear three.”

“And you think that’s me?”

“I did. That’s why I came here,” he told her simply, his gaze shifting from the horizon and over to her once more. With their gazes holding, he carried on, “I came for the prophecy, Thalia, but that’s not why I’m still here.”

In his periphery, he saw her swallow. “Why are you here then?”

“Because you’re my mate.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t care about the prophecy anymore?”

He winced a little. “I’m Fae, Thalia. My people were cast out, and we’re dying. We need our Mother to bring us back to the fold. That desperation, the need and urgency my people all feel, is as ingrained in me as your She-Wolf is in you. If you are the prophecy, then I shall rejoice, but it’s no longer the reason for my being here.

If it were, and I had a doubt you weren’t what I thought you were a few short days ago, I would have left by now. But I can’t do that. For you are mine.”

Theo watched as she licked her lips, then she surprised him by asking, “Is Zeus real?”

He blinked. “Aye.”

“But your mother rules?”

“Yes. Again, humans are obsessed with men. She is Hera. She rules the council, and she is mated to Zeus, although those are not their names.”

“Where do the names come from?”

He shrugged. “Where do any names come from? The humans created them.”

“What are their real names?”

Theo could no longer help himself. He twisted slightly and raised a hand. Cupping her cheek, he sighed out a breath when she didn’t pull back from him. She didn’t even stiffen. If anything, she hesitated for a split second and relaxed into his hold, pressing her cheek to his palm.

The breath shuddered from his lungs, but he managed to get out, “Mother’s name is Isaura. Father is Kane.”

He watched her lick her lips. “And she’s the boss?”

He snorted. “Yes. She’s Queen. Although, I’m not sure it works that way in the bedroom.”

She pulled a face. “Ew. Who wants to think of their parents in the sack?”

“After twelve thousand years,” he said with a grin, “they become less like your parents.”

“They do? How come?”

Shrugging, Theo murmured, “I’ve been adult longer than I was a child. I will always respect them, their judgements and beliefs. They will always be wiser than I am for they have seen more than I could begin to imagine. But we are equals in the eyes of Terra. That is good enough for me.”

“So, she’s Queen of the Fae, but that’s not dictated by Terra?”

She was a perceptive little thing, Theo noted with some amusement. “No. Terra had nothing to do with it.” When she narrowed her eyes, he knew he was about to be peppered with more questions, so he swiped his thumb along her mouth and pressed down gently on her lips. “That tale is for another time.” He didn’t want to speak of war, not now. Not when she was close, and she wasn’t pushing him away.

Though her mouth twisted under his thumb, she didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded her understanding.

“I didn’t even know I was looking for you,” he said, and he knew his tone was laced with the amazement he felt at having her here.

“May I ask you something?”

He knew his bemusement bled through because her lips twitched when he just gaped at her. Then, when she stayed silent, waiting on his answer, he retorted, “We’ve just gone through the creation story, and I’ve told you things few Lykens know about, yeah, you can ask me anything, Thalia. Anything you want.”

She swallowed. “You know the visions I had?”

Suddenly, he knew where she was going. “You saw me with a man.”

Her nod was hesitant. “I did. For years. I wasn’t sure who it was, but I know Mikkel and Rafe are straight, and you . . . not that you’re not very hetero—” Thalia broke off, uncertainty making her shield her gaze from him.

Was this why she’d been evading the connection with him?

“Fluid is the word you’re seeking,” he told her quietly.

She pondered that a second. “Okay. Fluid. Not gay?”

“No. Not gay,” he assured her, watching as she released a shaky breath that twisted his insides.

“I’ve heard of mate bonds that aren’t perfect,” she told him quietly, turning in her seat, her body language opening up more as she moved. “Males mated to other males, females to females, when they’re not even gay.”

“Even Terra makes mistakes. Why do you think Miley Cyrus is a huge star and Tesla died in poverty?”

She blinked. “That’s kind of random.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe. But I knew Tesla. He was an odd man, for sure, but he was a good man, too. But then, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and his were the best.”

Thalia cleared her throat. “You’ve no idea how much I want to discuss that with you. I really, truly do, but I’m kind of interested in us right now, you know?”

“I know. Sorry. My mind wandered.”

“Did you love him?” she asked quietly, and the tone and the question hurt something inside him. The hurt was for her, for him, and for Brian. Brian, who he’d loved with all he was capable of, and who, with Thalia’s entry into his world, Theo realized, had been shortchanged.

When Thalia and he were bound, Theo knew their connection would be beyond anything even his imagination was capable of conjuring.

But, how to answer?

When he hesitated, she stumbled on, “You were with him a long time.”

“We were together for what feels like a lifetime,” Theo murmured. “But it was different. We were never faithful. That wasn’t how we worked. It didn’t stop me from loving him, though.”

“Were?”

Theo winced at the relief in her voice. She’d thought he was still with Brian.

Her reticence with him, her inability to open up to him was beginning to make sense.

Dammit!

What a fool he’d been.

Her visions! She’d have seen him with Brian and other females; no wonder she felt uncertain around him.

“Were,” he confirmed softly, sadly. “Brian died. He’s on the wheel of souls now, maybe gracing some lucky child with a part of his beautiful spirit.”

“I’m sorry, Theo,” she whispered, her hand reaching for the one he still had on his lap. At her touch, his wings ruffled, making her jump. Then, she surprised him. She settled closer to him, and his wings curved tighter about her, cocooning her in a gentle clasp.

Her scent filled the air and every part of him that was male stood to attention.

“Thank you,” he told her quietly, staring ahead once more as he realized his grief had lessened in just the few days she’d been in his life. A notion that made him feel an insurmountable amount of guilt.

Thalia could never replace Brian because, in comparison, there was nothing to replace.

A human lover, a partner, though one Theo had adored, was nothing in comparison to a mate.

Thalia would own his very soul when they bonded. That kind of connection was impossible to replicate.

Theo released a shaky sigh, realizing belatedly that she was trying to comfort him. She’d turned her face into his arm, and with the hand she held, her thumb was swiping over the back of his fingers in a gentle caress.

“We’re going to change the world, Thalia. You know that, don’t you?” When she stayed silent, he murmured, “Mikkel, Rafe, you and me . . . everything’s about to change, and we’re on the brink of that.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” she said quietly.

“You’re young,” he told her, his voice soothing, and he’d admit to no one that he used glamor to ease her distress.

How did he know she was distressed?

He could feel her She-Wolf roaming around under the surface. In his mind’s eye, through his stirring connection with her, he could see her pacing and turning in circles, eager to get out, to be let loose. To attack whatever was distressing the human.

Theo turned his head and pressed a kiss to her crown. “In comparison to you, I’ve lived a few thousand lifetimes. It skews things.”

He let her ponder that, then, she surprised him by asking, “Did your dad have sex with a swan?”

He had to laugh at that, and it was wonderfully freeing to do so. To feel genuine humor, to feel something at long last.

In his heart, he waved farewell to Brian. He thanked the man, he blessed him with all the magic he had in his veins, for Brian had eased the hardship of this last century, had made life worth living when Theo had been at his lowest. Without Brian, he might not have made it another decade, never mind another four years.

With laughter bubbling from him, he released the tight grasp grief had had on his heart, his soul, and wished his lover well.