But they were at odds over more than his mate. Fate had Sight much deeper than Darkyn's, which meant the plans the Dark One had been hatching since he first emerged from the bowels of Hell were a matter of record with Fate rather than speculation like they were with the other deities.

"I may have sensed it," he allowed. "What is it to you, Fate, if I die-dead here?"

"Just looking at chains of events. I would like very much for it to stick, for you never to return," Fate replied. "No chain of events supports that, unfortunately."

"Good."

"Not good. Some of these chains leave you … and us … worse off."

Darkyn spun and began walking once more. The urge to decapitate the deity was unusually strong, a sign of how affected he was by his hunger. Self-control and limitless violence were two of his trademarks. Anywhere else, he'd remind Fate of the latter. Here, his energy was better saved and spent where it was needed, not wasted on Fate.

"Do you trust her?"

Fate's question made him halt once more.

There were two things Darkyn knew better than the twisted depths of his own soul: one, that he was meant to become the most powerful ruler Hell had ever known. The second: his mate was meant to rule at his side, despite being the opposite of him in every way. Deidre was his, even more so than Hell, their bond unbreakable by any force in the universe. The human with the pure heart and soft voice had started out a novelty, one he hadn't planned on keeping around. That changed the night the marking of their blood bond appeared on her, when he realized there was something he wanted more than he'd ever wanted Hell.

Born into a time of chaos and after hundreds of thousands of years of unrest, he'd found something he never fathomed existed: a home. A partner. A moment of peace. The only place and time in all of the world where he didn't have to carry weapons, because there was no threat, no danger, nothing but her soft skin, complete submission, blood of honey and the stamina of twenty demonesses.

"A creature like you does not deserve to discuss her," he growled, edgy and restless.

"I ask, because you need to give some serious thought about succession. Things can get bad, if you don't. Or they can get terrible. Not your kind of terrible, I'm afraid."

"I trust no one."

"Wrong answer. Pick someone. Anyone. Because you may make it out of here in some form, but you'll lose Hell in the process, if you don't think this through."




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