Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies, #4)

by Morgan B. Lee

I need answers—I need her,

I would give my soul to bring hers back. I would do anything.

The dust can’t have what’s left of my keeper. She said she was mine, and she will be mine no matter where her soul wanders without me.

“When you learned that memories take years longer than souls to transcend certain planes of existence, you requested that I place your memories of Paradise within this weapon to be returned to you more quickly. Consider this a favor. May fate bless your scheming, or else may your second death be equally honorable.”

I glance up at the sky. “How about some divine providence before I freeze my ass off?” No response. Nice to know that divine nepotism isn’t on the table.

You’d all better be alive, or I’m destroying what’s left of this godsdamned world.

“Say it again.” If she’s real, I need her to ruin me again.

“I love you,” she admits quietly, still endearingly reticent about those words.

“Promise me,” I begin raggedly once I can look her in the eye as myself. “Promise that you will never again go where I can’t follow.” Maven’s gaze is unexpectedly soft compared to her words. “Fuck promises. I’ll make you a godsdamned vow. From here on out, I’ll be your muse. No matter what fate has in store, you won’t be able to escape me this time.”

When the tape finally falls away, I smile against his lips. “Good boy.” I'm not expecting the rough whimper that escapes him at those words, but oh my gods, it's hotter than I could have imagined.

She’s divinity laced with sin, and I’m pure madness ready to worship at her altar.

“We’d live for you. We’d die for you. We’re yours—so

Oh, my gods. Not a single hesitation to jump to extremes. They’re all so fucking unhinged now. I love it.

Covering the microphone and moving it away so I can speak only to the woman, I give her a misleadingly sweet smile. “I don’t blame you for lusting over them, but if you look at what belongs to me again, I’ll hex you to piss shards of glass for the rest of your rapidly shortening lifetime.” Her eyes widen and she retreats like her ass is on fire. So possessive, thanafluir, Silas chuckles through the bond. With threats like yours, who needs poetry? Crypt tacks on, squeezing my hand affectionately.

Come back. Stop hiding from me when you’re in pain, Maven’s frustrated voice pleads through the bond. If only she would ask me for anything else. I’d steal each and every one of the fucking stars from the night sky for her, if it would make up for my past actions catching up to us.

In life or death or in between, you’re all mine.

I guess being trapped inside a monster for six fucking months changes a guy.

“Sorry,” I breathe, but I’m really not sorry because fuck, I love her pulling my leash. “Show me how sorry. Get on your knees, pet.” Pet. Oh, hell fucking yes. I love it when she calls me that.

Note to self: Ask her to choke me more. I might be onto something.

For someone who hates being edged, she’s painfully good at edging.

She’s edging me until I fucking cry, and I still can’t stop begging for more.

“Look, I have to show off while I still can, before I turn into a total fucking blimp and the best curve on my body is my baby bump.”

Oh. Holy. Fucking. Gods. That dress. That woman. And I thought I was feral before.

but when she arches a brow and speaks with a voice like velvet, I’m helpless. “Kneel,” she says simply, spreading herself further. The four of us drop like worshippers, obedient and ravenous.

Fake Daddy’s here and he’s horrifying.

“I feel nothing. I’m on my own. I need no one. I am but a weapon who is one with death. I am nothing but deadly calm.”

“That scútráche. No, Maven. You are so much more than that.” She was right all along. I am more than I was made or trained to be. I’m alive. I feel.

what a fucking gift, to be so alive that I can fear death again.

I’m alive. I deserve to be happy. I choose my own fate, and it will always be them.