Riley cocked her head, reflecting her inner wolf, to Hecate’s way of thinking. “Why are you trying to sell me on this so hard?”
A sharp one, Hecate would have to remember that. “I want to impress upon you how important it is that we get the remaining Bloode Stones. We must find that artifact before it falls into the wrong hands. And you need to understand that the vampires might just be all that stand in the way of world annihilation. Because when the Darkness comes, it will sweep everyone, lycans and humans and fae alike, into nothingness. Without worship, the gods will soon fade. Without humans to accept temptation and deals with devils, the hell realms will fall. We’re all connected.”
Riley looked suitably unnerved.
“This clan of vampires is the key to all our survival, Riley. And you’re part of it. Stick with Kraft.” Hecate saw the blush stealing over the young lycan’s face, glad that a potential beginning was developing there.
Riley shrugged. “I mean, I’ll work to get the artifact back. Then after you get those Bloode Stones, the statue comes home with me. Deal?”
“Deal.” Hecate looked deeper into the woman and felt the spark of Riley’s potential. Another piece of the puzzle, provided Riley didn’t do anything to alter her fit into Hecate’s plans. “Now tell me about Kraft.”
Riley started.“He’s your vampire. What don’t you know?” Surely the goddess didn’t know about them fooling around. She wouldn’t want intimate details or anything, would she?
“Well, for one, I don’t know how he came back to the house last night encased in death magic.”
Riley relaxed.
“Mormo told me what happened at the bazaar. I’m sure we can find out who’s pulling the strings there if that ties into the artifact’s whereabouts.”
“I don’t suppose you know a Seb DM?”
Hecate shrugged. “I don’t often interfere in the human world. Oh, I answer the occasional prayer, but most of my time is spent looking after the boundaries.”
“Boundaries?”
“Between the planes of existence, and between life and death,” Hecate said. “I’m a liminal goddess. I protect the crossroads, and one of those roads happens to belong to the dead. It bothers me that death magic was used at the bazaar but I didn’t feel it. That means whoever commanded that vampire is working through someone else. Someone I’m sure I’ll need to deal with sooner or later.”
It still felt a little odd to be conversing with a goddess in a teenager’s body. Hecate sounded so young and looked like a girl going to prom. Not like an ageless deity guarding the realm of the dead.
“So, um, is that all you wanted?”
“For now.” Hecate took Riley’s chin in her hand, and Riley froze. “You have choices to make, Riley Foster. Denial and bravado will only take you so far.”
“Huh?”
“Be gentle with Kraft. He is the youngest, and there’s something inherently innocent in my nachzehrer, despite what he looks like. He has a heart buried under that large, obnoxious wolf. But be warned. When he’s riled, there is no stopping him. And he won’t mean to hurt you when he does.”
“That’s comforting,” Riley said drily, her heart racing at the “hurt you when he does” part of Hecate’s speech. And all this talk about chaos and the end of the world—worlds? She needed to talk to Max and Uncle Jack.
“I’ll leave you to breakfast. Would French toast work for you? A little side of bacon?” Hecate went to the stainless steel refrigerator and pulled out a loaded plate and small pitcher. She set the plate filled with stacks of French toast and bacon next to the pitcher of syrup. “I’ll see you later, dear.”
Riley watched the “teenager” dance away, laughing as she walked down the hallway through which Riley had come and soon disappeared.
Confused and hungry, Riley tucked into a breakfast that seemed never ending. Stuffed to near bursting, she poured herself another cup of java and sat at the table, pondering the future.
And the past.
Her time with Kraft kept coming back to her. How the heck had she been so free with him, a male who had never expressed any sign of affection for her? She’d had plenty of sex in her nine decades of existence, but never with a man she didn’t have some care for.
Which remained true, she guessed, since she did kind of care for Kraft. She respected his ability to fight. She liked that he treated her nicely and not like some mindless beast or dopey little woman to be coddled.
Ugh. She’d had enough of that growing up, until her heritage expressed itself when she pounded the snot out of an older dire who tried bullying her. Ever since, the pack treated her like a warrior. When she’d tried to find a male to give her the softness and care she secretly desired, the magir she’d dated all bowed to the berserker. That left her with trying to date humans who had no idea what she was. The men had tried so hard to prove themselves that she’d lost her patience with them.
Riley was strong, fierce, and smart. She didn’t need a man. She wanted one to treat her like he treasured her. To sometimes get the door or hold a chair. To occasionally want to protect her instead of seeking her protection yet respect her ability to defend herself.
Being a berserker was her life, and she valued it, but sometimes she wished she weren’t always perceived as super powerful. The one time she’d shared that with Max, he’d looked at her like she had three heads. She’d felt silly for sharing and had turned it all into a big joke.
Deep down, though, she wanted a man to take charge when she didn’t feel like being the boss, yet still respect when she wanted to be in command. Perhaps that was why she felt so resistant to mating. She didn’t want a mate and children to take care of when she had a whole pack to constantly monitor.
