Little Mate (Fate's Bite Book 2), page 3
The next in line is her father.
Pompous. Arrogant. Pathetic.
His complexion is now pallid; the blood loss is quite significant. “Don’t tell him anything, Lilibeth. Don’t you...fuck!” Another gouge, this time to the remaining eye. It hangs from the socket, blood streaking his cheek.
“Your call, Lilibeth.” Body shuddering, she tries once again to fight my hold. The wind howls, angrier this time, yet it’s uncoordinated and does nothing but flutter around us and sweep my dark hair back. “Tell me where she is, and I’ll make it all go away.”
“He’s lying. Don’t,” her father begs, his hands now braced on the ground in front of him, fingers digging into the dirt. “We’re dead anyway. Don’t help him.”
“True, but...” Her mate whines then, the wheezing sound pulling her back to the present, and everything stills. He is her weakness. My ace up the proverbial sleeve. “I can help him, Lilibeth. Take away his pain.” Walking us forward, I turn her to face him while the bodies of her fallen coven brothers are tossed into a pile where they lay with eyes wide open and mouths agape in horror. “Do you want that?” I whisper. “Do you want it all to end? To meet him again?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me. It’s that simple.” We ignore the gurgling sound of her father’s struggles; I take advantage of how she can’t look away from the silly human struggling to live. Yet he’s not the only scent on her. Flicking my eyes to the guard holding the elder witch, I tilt my head in the direction of the castle. They’ll know where to take him.
I’ll deal with him privately.
Lilibeth remains inconsolable; her cries are soul-deep, but I feel her resolve seconds later. Take account of the breath where she loses her fight. Gives up. Swallowing back a sob, she exhales roughly and whispers the words I’ve been longing to hear: “New Forest in England.”
I let out a rough exhale against her temple before kissing the skin there. “Good girl.” Her neck is supple in my hold, the vein pulsing in time with her rapid breathing. Anxiety. There’s no fight in her when I tip her head to the side, nor when I breathe in deep, but the horrified scream following my fangs piercing deep—tearing her throat wide open as I feed—is a beautiful memory I’ll treasure.
She’s made this a little enjoyable. Her emotions are entertaining if nothing else.
Taking in the last deep pull, I press a tiny kiss to her empty vein before tossing her aside. I kept my promise—her mate’s already passed, and she’ll meet him if there is such a thing as an afterlife.
I walked her to death's door and over the threshold, however, what she finds on the other side isn’t my concern.
A frightening sound reaches my ears a few seconds after, and my head turns toward the source. Christopher is huddled against a tree, his bruised body shaking while the scent of piss emanates from him. Poor kid.
“Run, child. I’m allowing you to leave.”
“Please don’t kill—”
“Run, and don’t look back. You have sixty seconds before I change my mind.”
And while he takes off, stumbling and trampling a black rose bush, I scratch my jaw. Gabriella and her siblings took off for England. Smart little thing. She’s put enough space between us to make this chase fun.
The Moore family has lived—thrived—here in Italy, in Foresta di Ferràina to be precise, for over a century. Hours separate both kingdoms, never mixing while acknowledging—respecting—the treaty between both.
It’d be so easy to enslave them: our personal feeding horde.
And she’s the key. Mine.
“I’m coming for you, little girl.”
3
GABRIELLA
Another coven. Twenty dead bodies.
They’re scattered throughout the sacred grounds an hour from the family’s home back in Italy, their bodies decapitated and bled dry—the corpses left for our kind to find. No note. No demands, and yet, I know it’s my sister and me they seek.
Just like the last two times.
Just like our father warned it would happen.
“King Astor isn’t going to give up,” I say under my breath, my eyes scanning the report brought to me by a member of the royal guard. He’s traveled for days without respite to bring this, his body needing emergency assistance upon arrival. “How can we stop this mess, Isabella? This can’t go on…our people won’t survive it.”
The names of the fallen are written on our sacred paper, and each one hits me in the chest like a small dagger slicing across the beating organ. I’m bleeding for them. I’ve failed them.
The Salicio clan was a quiet group that for the most part governed themselves and came to the Moore home when a grievance needed an impartial ear. My family—my father—has always been fair that way. No dictatorship. Just laws. Our sole expectation is that you respect nature, each other, and those who are not of Wiccan belief.
No matter the species. We strike to kill only in self-defense.
Fight fair and never out of anger, dear child. Volatile emotions are uncontrollable. They’ll kill you from within. My father’s words ring in my ear as if he were standing beside me. But he’s not. They’re both gone, and I miss them.
“It’s going to get worse, Gabby,” Isabella whispers from behind me. Her hand on my shoulder gives a gentle squeeze, and I close my eyes. I’ve read each line in the report a few times, memorizing each detail while my heart mourns for all those innocent lives lost. “We have to go home. It’s the only way.”
“Leonardo can’t go back. He’s our hope for the future, sister.” Turning my head, I blink and meet her unwavering stare. Tears brim in my eyes, making her face a tiny bit blurry, but I don’t let them fall. She’s being honest. Our paths will soon deviate from one another and travel down roads without answers or assurances, but if we are to protect those we love, there is no other choice. “Please tell me you’ve found a loophole.”
“There isn’t. I’m sorry.” The pain in her tone mimics the agony in my heart.
We’re alone, and all because of the greed of men not worth the air they breathe. Our people turned against us and accepted the aid and money of others to ascend to power. They’ve planned and killed, and now hunt us as if we were nothing but wild game running through the dense forests we travel through. From witches to the fae to vampires, however, the latter wants me for a different reason.
The vampire king intends to use me—bend me to his will—but what’s worse is the collateral damage left behind as a reminder that he’s close. Waiting. Watching. He’s toying with me, and I know the time draws near for us to meet.
He’s left me a note in the past. Just one, and it corroborates everything Isabella has warned me about.
More importantly, I can’t let this go on.
I want them all dead.
Moreover, I’m ready to end my own life if it means my siblings will be safe.
“Fuck.” The pain inside my chest explodes then; the control I’ve been fighting to maintain shatters and my legs give out. Energy pulses all around me. My hands feel the tethers of those dead and alive who walk the halls outside this room. Some are strong, others faint—those who are destined to die soon are the loudest— and they all clamor for my attention.
And I let them speak.
Their hymn has a low cadence that I hold on to. I let it soothe my fragile soul, breathing in and out while Isabella lowers herself beside me. Her fingers gripping mine, our bodies sway as the scream that’s building within me finally releases.
The sound is full of anger and hurt—agonizing—and a few wails can be heard coming from the floor below where a group of older women have been attending the meals of those who’ve traveled with us. Pain radiates through the walls, and the stones nearly vibrate as tears fall from my eyes.
I’ve been holding it in for too long, something that Isabella has been warning me about since the night our parents were killed.
“Gabriella, get up!” I hear someone whisper-yell from above me, their hands shaking me awake. I’d fallen asleep outside again, my hands embedded deep into the earth as nature sang a soft lullaby. Because I can feel it; from the tiniest heartbeat to the gentle breaths each leaf exhales.
However, my nose crinkles then. The harsh scent of smoke greets my senses, and my eyes snap open. “What the?”
“Now, sister. We need to go!” Isabella’s frantic tone snaps me into focus; I turn toward her voice and take her in. Her face is ashen, her long white dress dirty while her red hair, the tone a few shades darker than mine, is in complete disarray. My twin looks like crap. “Please, Gabby. Focus. I need you—”
“Why are you here looking like that?” She’s barefoot, shaking, and trying to stand in the way of my view behind her. “Stop fidgeting, Isa. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Please forgive me.”
“You’re not making sense. Did someone harass you?”
My twin shakes her head, tears falling from her eyes. “No.”
“Did something happen at home?” A whimper leaves her, the sound so full of sorrow. “It had to be this way.”
Before she finishes, I’m standing. My eyes dart around, my hands pushing her out of my way so I can see past the tree line that leads to a small ravine on the back of the family home. Smoke billows above the foliage and a sinking feeling settles in my chest, the sharp tendrils of a last breath being exhaled shaking me to the core.
I know that presence.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” Reaching out, I grip the front of her dress and pull her closer. My head turns, and blue eyes meet my green ones. So much sorrow. So much guilt. “Where are they?”
“We’ve been attacked,” she says, voice breaking at the end. Her entire small frame shakes. “Dad sent me and Leo out through the tunnels. We made it out before they breached his office.”
“Who?”
“The Rossi.”
“Lilibeth’s family?” A girl I grew up with. One of my closest friends; she’s spent days in our house and ate with my parents. We were taught about our history in the same school. We learned about our distinct abilities from the same oracle—my nonna—when we were kids. And years later, when she met her mate, I blessed her union to a human when her father made his disappointment known. “That can’t be right. She—they’d never...”
“I’m sorry, Gabby. It had to be this way.” Betrayal stings, my stomach churning, but that quickly turns into ire, and I step back. Fire races through my veins before I’m done taking in my next inhale, her words settling deep. “Dad wouldn’t let me intervene. He forbade it.”
“You knew.” Not a question. The timbre of my voice is dark, harsh, as a veil of black overcasts my senses. “You fucking knew.”
“Everyone did, but you and Leo.”
“Why?” Isabella raises a hand, asking me to take it, but I won’t. I don’t want to share our energy or feelings through touch. Let them fester right now. Eat away at my soul that turns black, decays as pain rattles my bones. No. Not now. “Answer me, Isa. Why the hell would you hide this from me?”
“Because you couldn’t save him without dying, sister. And his last wish as king was for his children to save his people. We are what’s left.”
“And Mom? I didn’t feel her—”
She closes her eyes. Hides her shame. “They took her.”
I’m going to kill them all. Drain their essence and feed it to the earth. “Where’s Leo?”
“Hidden inside our tree.”
Walking past her, I head toward the hiding spot we’ve kept secret from everyone except those with familial ties. A large hollow oak stands a few feet inside the Moore property line, and which has been here for over sixty years; the inside is large enough to fit three, and the entrance is high enough to block the sight of those within.
Her steps fall in line with mine a few seconds later. Her anxiety mirrors my own. She’s wondering if I’ll forgive her, and I will, but not today. “First, we need our little brother safe, and then I need every detail, Isabella. No more secrets.”
“Yes.”
“We also need to find Mom.”
“We might not, and when the time comes, don’t hold back. I need you to embrace the pain; the outcome will be horrific if you don’t.”
“You’ve seen this, or—”
“Her destiny has always been intertwined with Dad. They will meet again.”
“Let it out. Just let yourself feel.” Isabella’s pain intertwines with mine, and everything around me darkens. The room feels as though it’s caving in on us. My throat feels hoarse, her energy feeding off mine as turbulent emotions ravage my soul.
I’m still hurting. I’m angry. I focus on the last tendrils of our parents’ spirits who linger near, something my siblings aren’t aware of. Our loved ones can’t find rest, their souls clamoring for peace, but the feeling of worry seems to dominate that small tether licking at my senses.
It’s not unfounded, and the future is uncertain: ours and those we are meant to lead, while so many want us dead.
“We got you, Gabriella,” my brother's voice comes from my other side, and I look over, meeting the eyes of a younger version of our father. The resemblance is strong; the sole difference outside of the age is Leo’s blue eyes, which he shares with Isa and Mom. From the thick brows to his stubbornness, the kid is a constant reminder and the heir to the Moore throne. “Just cry. You’ve been strong long enough.”
His words bring forth guilt. The last thing he should be worried about is my emotional state.
Leonardo has so much on his shoulders. Too much.
His life thus far has been a nonstop grooming session.
Isabella and me, we’ll eventually find our mates, and there’s always the possibility that they’re not of magical proclivities. They can be anything. Even human. And while we’ll help and take control until he comes of age to take the crown, my sister has always made it known that someday, we’d leave.
My sobs quiet down. I fight them back, but the slow roll of tears doesn’t abate. Instead, they stain the skirt of my dress, my body hunching over as I breathe deeply in and out, slowly trying to recover my composure. It’s a pointless struggle, impossible, because the two people in the world whom I love more than my own life are also struggling.
That’s the part of my gift that can be both a blessing and a curse.
To manipulate life, you must open yourself and accept every single part of a person’s essence—meld yourself with it. It leaves me susceptible. Empathetic.
“I’m okay,” I say after a while. My throat is sore, and swallowing is a bit hard around the still-present knot, but I manage and stand with shaky legs. They follow me, each with a hand gripping my arm. “But we do need to talk. There’s a decision to be made, and it affects us all.”
“There isn’t a choice, Gabby.” Leo’s expression, while sad, is determined. His inner strength, the warlock within him, demands respect.
This amuses me; a slight chuckle slips past my lips. “Put away the commanding voice, kid. You’re not king yet.”
“I don’t know…” Isabella bumps her shoulder with mine, a smirk on her lips “…this time I agree with his majesty. My lord does know best.”
“You two are impossible.” His grumble, that thirteen-year-old grumpy demeanor cuts through what’s left of my tension. He’s not as strong as Isabella and me. His magic hasn’t shown signs of surpassing what we experience: feel, see, or manipulate, but he will.
One day.
He’s destined for greatness.
“I’m not against going back—”
“But you need to protect me?” Leo cuts in. He’s pensive for a few minutes, not meeting my stare but focusing on the wall behind me. Then he paces, turns around, and walks the circumference of the room a few times before coming to a stop in front of us once again with his hands clasped behind his back. So much like Dad. “What if I stay with Uncle Roberto? That’s close enough, but not in the way. You can reach me quickly if needed while doing what you must to end those responsible.”
At the mention of my father’s brother, I bite back the curse words sitting on the tip of my tongue. In the two months since our parents’ murders, the man never sent word or offered his assistance during our mourning. Never asked if we needed him—or anything—and it doesn’t sit well with my soul.
And while I get that he too lost someone he loves, even a hello via the soldiers that took turns and traveled through this city he lives in, the group of three that rotates duties, so we’d always have guards, would’ve meant a lot. I’d know we aren’t fully alone. That someone cares.
Think rationally, Gabriella. Emotions don’t solve problems, but rather create them.
Dad’s words, the ones he’s been drilling into my head since my early teens, filter through and I pause. He’s right. My personal feelings aside, Leo staying behind and safe is what matters most, and if I must play nice until this all passes, then so be it.
I will hash this out with our uncle afterward.
“I’m agreeable to that.” Wiping away the last of my tears, I take the few steps between us and hug him, one that Isabella joins while also giving me a nod. Telling me without words that she’s on board with this plan. For a few minutes, we remain this way, quietly accepting what’s to come and the bloodshed that will follow. Those who rose against us will die. “We pack tonight and head out in the morning?”
It’s our brother’s turn to nod while Isabella lifts her head and meets my red-rimmed eyes. Her expression matches my tumultuous emotions: anger, pain, and sadness. “Let’s go home. We can’t escape destiny.”
4
GABRIELLA
Our trip back to Italy has been somber for the most part. Quiet.
The only sound inside the quiet cab of the train we’re taking home is that of Leo’s snores while Isabella stares out the window. We’ve been on the move for a few days now; some by water and now by a locomotive, but soon we’ll reach Naples where a few of Father’s horses await us.
