28
MAX
Dressed in a suit of black silk, Kaden leans against the open doorway, arms crossed. His loose hair hangs over his chest, a few strands falling into his gaze. I shift under it. As much as I want his gaze on me, I don’t. Because what I see isn’t my Kaden—it’s what Aoife has done to him.
His eyes are dead balls of cool coals, his face is impassive, but arrogant. As he enters, his walk is relaxed, edge with something dangerous. A predator stalking his cornered prey.
Stopping by Aoife’s side, she huffs, fixing her skirt. “No. Just getting rid of the trash.”
“Ouch,” I mutter. “Don’t forget, we share blood.”
“Where is Fenrir?” she asks, glaring at me. Kaden tilts his head, eyes looking me over from my boots to the top of my head. It’d feel sensual if I didn’t get the urge to stab him in the throat.
“Dead.”
Her jaw clenches. If I expected tears, I’d be disappointed. Aoife is cold as ice.
“And my book?”
“Gone.”
There’s a brief pause before she steps close again. The Hadeon’s chest turns fiery, ready to ignite the room in Hellfire and smoke.
“What did you do?”
This is a trap and I remain quiet. She might not mourn Fenrir, but Mal does—I do. Because he didn’t deserve to die for her actions.
“I’ll take care of her,” Kaden says, smirking.
“Good.” She caresses his cheek and there’s the faintest tremor in his jaw. “Don’t be long,” she purrs and I have to gulp down my vomit.
As she leaves, Kaden undoes his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves. I don’t relax—I don’t trust him. And I’m still wholly confused as to how I’m going to save him.
Love and magic are all well and good, but Kaden is a powerful Fae with his own magic. How can I hope things so easy, so natural as breathing can work?
He grins, his fangs pillowing into his bottom lip. “Well? No declarations of love for your mate, pet?”
“I would say them if I thought you would listen,” I counter, tripping over my boots to stay away. He encroaches slowly, the smirk never leaving his place. “I can see that would be a mistake.”
“To tell me you love me?” He tsks. “Aren’t mates supposed to be horribly in love?”
“We are,” I remind him. “But right now, it’s not my mate I’m speaking to.”
Kaden stops short, nodding. “Ah. You are very clever,” he admits. “You figured out Aoife has done something.” He gestures to his head. “Something to me.”
“I know it’s a binding spell. Not quite a love spell. Not quite a mind spell. But a bit of both.” I watch his eyes—his hands. I won’t be unprepared for an attack. “I just haven’t figured out how it’s effecting you.”
I stumble back, the Hadeon staying in the middle. Kaden doesn’t move past him.
“It’s a bit of an ingenious recipe, actually.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, his dead amber eyes regarding me causally. “It took awhile to bind us. To fight against our bond. Nasty thing, it was. And once it did, I fell under her command.”
“But you’ve not your own thoughts?”
“I have my own thoughts.” He sighs dramatically. “But they are tempered with her wants.”
“You’re compelled, then.” I take one step. “Forced to listen to her.”
His jaw clenches and a tremor jumps by his ear. It looked like disgust when Aoife touched him—maybe it was. But perhaps it’s something else. It seems more like resistance under a tight band of control.
