Wisteria (Belladonna #3)

by Adalyn Grace

Fate was her summer sun—too intense for most to bear, while she tipped toward him like a flower, craving his touch.

Passion made people forget themselves. It kept them from feeling the change of seasons upon their skin or curling their toes into the grass. Passion stole their health. It made both time and families slip away as people lost themselves to their pursuits.

“I am not the only one in this world who matters, my love.” Fate’s fingers curled against her waist. “You are to me.”

Life could not see then how Fate’s expression softened. She could not see the eyes that pleaded with Death, nor his fragility. “She is my wife. You have taken from me everything that I’ve ever cherished, and I have never stood in your way. I have never asked you for anything. But I am asking you now, brother, to make an exception. You cannot take her from me.”

“Hello, love.” Aris may have whispered the words, but his voice was a weapon that slipped through Blythe’s skin and struck to the hilt. “I hoped you wouldn’t make it.” She squeezed his hand, forcing her own smile onto a face she hoped looked half as vicious as his. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, my darling. Though do feel free to divorce me tomorrow.”

It hadn’t escaped Blythe’s notice that he was dressed finer than she had ever seen, or that he was cognizant of Elijah’s every step, searching for anything her father might need before he could voice it. Seconds after Elijah squinted at the glaring sun, a cloud passed over it, shading his face. It was a subtle action, one that Blythe was certain Aris would never assume she’d notice. But she did notice and was quick to smother her smile, worried it might embarrass her husband. She more than welcomed the change from Aris’s typical behavior; before the eyes of her father, he was the perfect gentleman.

But Blythe had never met a challenge she didn’t like.

“Speak one more word to my wife,” Aris growled, “and I will tear your tongue from your throat.”

“Silly Signa,” Blythe said by way of answer, tucking Signa’s hair behind her ear. “Remember what I said. You are the girl who cannot die, and I am the one who will forever be reborn. Do not think you can escape me so easily.”

It was a wonder that Death and Fate had ever gotten along. No matter the beauty of a soul or the brilliance of a life that Fate crafted, Death always took them in the end.

“All who live must one day die,” Death whispered. “You’ll find her again, Aris.” “Or you can save her.” It was Signa who spoke, her words hardly audible as she took hold of Aris’s arm. “You are a deity,” she prodded. “Two birds with one stone, Aris. Do what needs to be done, and save her.” This time, Death heard her. He swept forward with a hiss of reproach. “Signa,” he called, but the girl didn’t meet his stare. Her eyes bore into Fate’s, then flickered once, briefly, toward Chaos. And he understood. Aris stood, lifting Blythe with him, and set her in Death’s gloved arms. “Take her back to Wisteria.” He looked his brother hard in the eye. “Watch over her, do you understand me?” For ages they had fought, Aris masking his guilt as disdain. But in this moment, he needed his brother more than anyone, and as darkness clouded Death’s eyes, Aris knew that he understood. “Do not be a fool,” Death warned, but Aris wasn’t listening. “Go, brother,” he commanded. “I’ll be right behind you. And should Blythe die before I return, know that I will kill you all.” Aris straightened his gloves, expressionless as he strode past them toward Chaos. There was no inflection in his voice. No anger or grief. Only facts as he looked upon her. “I will not be bested by you again,” he promised as he hurried her to the window. “Of that, I swear on my very life.”