The Darkest Destiny (Lords of the Underworld 15.50)

He scanned the scene of his newest resurrection. His head had yet to rejoin with his body. Same for Midian and Joseph. There was no sign of Viola, though her sweet rose scent lingered inside his nostrils.

Midian—a Forsaken with red skin and too much rage—snarled, “The goddess arranged your brother’s expiration date, and you opt to aid her over us, your comrades? Fool! We merely seek a key to Nevaeh. One we will share with you.”

“The goddess is mine,” Brochan snarled back. “Her pain and end are mine to mete. Only mine.” At some point, Brochan would strike at her. Until then, he must do everything necessary to ensure his hatred won the battle against his desires. “No one else is to touch her.”

He’d never hungered for anyone the way he still hungered for Viola. Had never yearned for anything this intensely.

How did he make it stop?

“You don’t seek the key,” Midian gasped. “You want her, just as she boasted.”

Declare his weakness for the goddess to another? Never! “I seek my vengeance, and I expect—demand—a clear path.”

Once, he and Midian had served together in the Sent One army. They’d fought side by side, battle after battle. The moment the male dared to bruise Viola, he had ended whatever remained of their friendship.

Suddenly, Joseph’s head went skidding across the cell, past the metal bars and down the hall as if yanked by an invisible string, mystically drawn to the headless body Brochan had left in a corridor above.

Midian’s body vibrated soon after, his head sliding over, closing in to begin the process of reattachment. Within seconds, the same thing happened to Brochan, searing pain ebbing and flowing.

He gritted his teeth. Deserved. He’d come for the goddess, not because he hoped to destroy her, as he should, but because he continued to lust after her.

Shame inundated him. Today, Brochan existed only to save his brother. Once he secured the lad in Nevaeh where time ceased to exist, McCadden would live forever without his wings or immortality. Then, oh then, Brochan would turn his attention to retribution at long last. There were so many ways to punish a goddess…

First things first. How did he obtain her key to Nevaeh? As soon as she’d announced to a crowd of males that she owned one, Brochan had changed course. Key first, vengeance second.

No matter how hard or often Brochan and another like-minded Forsaken named Farrow attacked the invisible veil that separated the timeless realm from every other, they failed to breach it.

“We will get that key,” Midian vowed, panting through his pain.

Threat! Brochan’s deepest instincts sharpened. Instincts he only managed to bury in spurts. Protect the goddess at all costs. Once an aggravation to be endured. Now a complicated but necessary endeavor.

All Forsaken combatted the same obsessive need to reenter Nevaeh. Himself included. Though his brother’s reentry mattered far more to him than his own. Now these males would stop at nothing to obtain Viola.

“Get in our way,” Midian snapped, “and we’ll rally the others. We’ll kill your brother outright and torture the goddess before she, too, greets death.”

Brochan laughed, the sound as crazed as he sometimes—always—felt. “Go ahead. Strike at my brother and the goddess en masse.” Three of the most powerful Sent Ones in existence guarded McCadden; Brochan made sure of it. As for Viola, the warriors must get through him to reach her. No one got through him. “I’ll turn my sights to you. Nothing pleases me more than the misery of my foes. You know this better than most.”

Malice pulsed from the other male. “Will I receive the same misery as the goddess? Tell me, mighty Broken. What horrors have you visited upon her, hmm?”

Brochan snared a curse, soon losing track of everything but his agony. Bones, muscles and arteries wove back together. Organs revived, and his lungs refilled. By the time he regained control of his limbs, no hint of his civility remained.

Inhalations coming shallow and fast, he jolted into an upright position—just in time to catch a swinging fist. Midian had gained control a split second before him. Maintaining an unyielding hold, Brochan came to his feet with a flap of his wings. Rather than attack, he hissed and shoved the other Forsaken.

Midian bumped into Joseph, who had just flashed into the cell. He snapped, “We will get the key from the goddess. One way or another.”

The two vanished, and Brochan barely stifled the urge to find the goddess. To punish her…to feast his gaze upon her again. To taste her lips at long last.

Gritting his teeth, he planted his feet and rolled his newly attached head from shoulder to shoulder. Bones popped, and mended flesh stretched. He stretched his wings too, blinking when he noticed ten ivory hooks protruding from the joints. Those hooks hadn’t been there before his run-in with Viola.