I stare at him, my mind reeling—a demigod born of two pantheons, two worlds that should never have crossed paths.
I shake my head. "No. My mother was mortal. Freya. What kind of bullshit are you trying to feed me?"
Odin sighs. "No, my son. We concealed your true heritage, placing you among the mortals until you came of age to embrace your destiny."
The words hit me like a gut punch. My entire existence...a lie? A carefully crafted illusion to hide the truth of my blood?
My memories of my mother's chants and whispered prayers to the gods for the gift of a child take on a whole new meaning now. The words twist and warp like a hall of shattered mirrors.
I can hear her voice, soft and reverent, thanking the deities for the blessing of my life. But now, knowing the truth of my heritage, those gentle murmurs become a twisted mockery, a cruel joke played by the very gods she so faithfully served.
She had no idea, no inkling of the divine blood that flowed through my veins, the legacy of power and tragedy that I was born to bear. To her, I was a miracle, a gift from the heavens. But in reality, I was a pawn, a chess piece in a game played by immortals. My fate decided before I ever drew breath.
I clench my fists. "Then tell me," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "Who were they? My real parents, the ones who brought me into this world only to abandon me to the fates?"
Odin meets my gaze. "Your father was Magni, son of Thor, a warrior of unparalleled strength and courage. And your mother was Nyx, the primordial goddess of the night, a being of ancient power and mystery."
Thenames echo through my mind: Magni, Nyx, demigod, and primordial goddess, united in a forbidden love that brought forth a child of two worlds.
Fuck. My. Life.
Danica
5
Wait.Rewind. Did she just say she's Rhyland's Maker? Well, isn't that just fucking peachy. My Viking vampire beefcake somehow forgot to mention this particular skeleton in his closet. Sure, he gave me the Cliff Notes version of his turning, but skipped the chapter about the psycho ex-maker with abandonment issues.
And wait—if she made Rhyland, that means... oh,fantastic. She's Vampire Mommy Dearest to all my guys. Erik, Lucian—they're all her immortal offspring. Though clearly, the "how to not be a complete psycho" gene skipped a generation.
I eye Miss Thing standing before me, taking in the waves of jealousy and obsession rolling off her like cheap perfume. The way she's looking at me, you'd think I'd stolen her favorite Gucci bag instead of her centuries-old boy toy.
That's some grade-A obsessive ex-girlfriend energy right there.
Well, if this delusional vampire bitch thinks she can waltz in here with her "I made him" bullshit and stake a claim on my man, she's got another thing coming. Time to channel my inner bad bitch and show her exactly who she's dealing with.
I plaster my best 'bless your heart' smile and decide to go for the jugular. "Listen here,sweetheart," I drawl. "I don't give two shits about who you claim to be or what ancient history you're trying to dig up. But let me paint you a picture—while you've been off doing whatever it is bitter ex-makers do, Rhyland's been pretty busy. And by busy, I mean buried so deep inside me that he can't even remember his own name, let alone yours."
I lean forward as much as I can in this position. "Face it, honey. You're not even a footnote in his story anymore. You're just a bad memory he didn't even bother to mention. So why don't we cut the territorial vampire queen act and call this what it really is—pathetic."
Thelook on her face? Priceless. Sometimes the truth hurts, especially when it's served with a side of sass and a garnish of 'go fuck yourself.' Though something tells me, this particular truth bomb might come back to bite me in the ass. Literally.
She's in my face faster than I can blink, fangs out, gleaming and sharp. "Watch that pretty little mouth of yours," she hisses. "You're playing with forces far beyond your pathetic mortal comprehension."
Oh, so that's how we're doing this? I may be chained up, but my attitude is still locked and loaded. I strain against the restraints, getting right back in her face. Because if this bougie bloodsucking bitch thinks I'm going to cower like some helpless damsel, she's got another thing coming.
"Or what?" I spit back, channeling every ounce of defiance I can muster. "You'll do your worst? I've faced scarier things than a desperate ex with daddy issues. So go ahead, show me what you've got. But know this—Rhyland ismine, and no amount of vampire mean girl bullshit is going to change that."
Her eyes flash dangerously, like emerald lightning. "You insignificant little harlot," she seethes, her perfectly manicured hands curling into claws. "Howdareyou speak to me that way. I am hisMaker. Iownhim!"
"News flash, bitch," I sneer, even as my heart pounds against my ribs. "This isn't the dark ages anymore. You can't just stamp 'property of psycho vampire' on someone and call it a day. So why don't you take your entitled ass back to whatever crypt you crawled out of and leave my man alone?"
She reels back as if I slapped her. Good.
I might be scared shitless on the inside, but I'll be damned if I let this immortal Regina George see it. Rhyland is worth fighting for, and if that means going toe-to-toe with his Maker? Well, bring it on, bitch.
One second, I'm running my mouth; the next, this psychotic snatch has her fangs buried in my throat. The pain is excruciating, nothing like Rhyland's gentle bites. I scream as she violates me, stealing what isn't hers to take, her grip tightening like a vice as she gulps down my blood with perverted pleasure. I thrash against her, but it's like fighting a steel beam—utterly useless.
The door crashes open, the sound barely registering over my screams and thundering heartbeat. "LILITH!" A commanding voice cuts through the chaos. "Enough! You can't kill her. Yet. Control yourself, for fuck's sake!"
