She’d retched at his words, felt her guts recoil at the idea of being around and within him. It was the taunts that got her really going, the teeth that made her fight against the urge to stay in the mountain of death.

She’d taken his face in her rage, mushed it into a patty in her hands, and then smeared herself in his juices; pulled entrails and shit-filled intestines out of the gape of his dripping bloody skeleton. With his body wrapped around herself like a cape, Quinn had crawled like some tumbleweed in the snow right pass those demons.

They hadn’t seen her, not with the angry whistle of snow from the blizzard and the rustle of dead trees. And luck had been in her favour when a particularly strong blast sent a cascade of skeletons clattering down the hill, masking her scent and her movement.

The dead man helped her survive, and she thanked him later as she made her way through the forest, at first on her knees and then on her feet. His skin on her shoulders had been almost equivalent to an animal jacket—warm and posh from a branded luxury store.

He hid her scent, shielded her existence from the monsters that lurked and prowled. And then during her snowy escape, granted her the ability to see Float one last time. It happened when his blood had dripped into her eyes—on hindsight, it might have been piss—and with growing disgust she’d wiped it away only to see an unearthly glow.

Float had hovered before her eyes, a panel of hope in the darkness of the night. The technology, now newly improved from its magical origins, provided her with the ability to purchase pockets of heat and tumblers of hot tea. It gave her sandy bars of protein, insulated trekking boots for her frost-bitten feet, fur-lined gloves and at the very least—cute panties.

Eventually, she collapsed quite pathetically in the snow, and later found herself in the arms of scavengers in a village at the very edge of civilisation. And for three full years Quinn stayed away from her seven.

But soulmates would always find one another because that was the way of the world.

*

The first time Euodia had seen the siren was at a royal ball.

Perched on the arm of a handsome female general, Helios had been glowing.

His skin, soft cream, was awash in the glitter of his magic. And his wings—thick feathers that drooped at his feet, were beaded with thousands of tiny stars. His hair was a gentle rose that fell to his throat, swept into a sweet fluffy hairdo that accentuated the allure of innocence on the chubbiness of his cheeks.

He’d been an infuriating dichotomy. A furious clash of softness and strength in the sweet curve of too kissable lips and the sharpness of a jawline hewn from sex incarnate. And his eyes, always naturally droopy, were lustful and needy, dripping with a hazel that seemed a brilliant gold.

Beautiful, unearthly. He’d been nothing like the fey she knew, nothing like the fairies that graced her path. He was a God among men, an ethereal being that bleached one’s eyes from the ugliness of everyone and everything. He was exquisite.

He called to her the way it called to everyone. And then turned, giving them the privilege of looking at the wide expanse of a milky muscular back and then the tips of the softest, perkiest ass. Its shape so taut and seductive he’d drawn soft moans from the Alphas and Omegas alike. Then he’d pulled the heavy drape of mantle tight around his body; the cloth dipping into the apex of his thighs and over the curve of his thick bulge.

A smirk had teased the corners of his lips.

The Omega didn’t have to speak, his pheromones sang with the salt of his sweet caramel, called at all the Alphas the way one could when deep in the Heat of their cycle. Her companions had been salivating.

And Euodia caved too, but it was not because she was influenced or attracted to him the way true Alphas were. But because she wanted the attention he siphoned from the air from merely just existing.

She wanted his influence, his allure.

Nonetheless, the offer she’d given him hadn’t been enough, not with his type of cliental and the kind of money he earned. Not even the Princess of the world could afford for his forever. And so, a month was all that he gave her. Four measly little weeks for her to grow bored of his skills.

Helios would satisfy her Rut (more accurately the lack thereof) and then he would leave once he had his fill of her. Or perhaps the absence of it, for a Beta like Euodia could never satisfy the hunger and the want of an Omega.

That was the contract they’d made.

The contract Euodia had broken.