Four headstones, in perfect condition, sit in the middle, making a diamond shape as the edges touch. A shudder runs through me, and I feel Jonah also shudder.
“That’s Luna’s gravestone?” I ask, and Kyan stops between the two rocks closest and looks back at me.
“And Kaif’s,” Kyan answers. They are ancient but not damaged like the others, these are well preserved. Kyan reaches for Jonah’s hand.
“Man, you know I hate stepping in there,” Jonah whines, but grabs his hand.
“You have my family’s magic, Ella. You should be able to pass through,” Kyans tells me.
“Pass-through?”
“Witches don’t like guardians, well the fact that Jonah is Kaif’s guardian, anyway, he can only pass on burial grounds with my touch,” Kyan murmurs the last word.
His brows furrow for a second before he suddenly lets go and Jonah shrieks and goes to grab him, but Kyan steps out of reach before looking up at the rocks, and he laughs softly. Jonah, however, looks confused as he touches his chest like he is trying to see if he is whole.
“Fuck,” Kyan huffs, glancing around the weird stones.
“It didn’t chew me up and spit me out,” Jonah gasps, looking around at the huge ass rocks. Relief flooding his face.
“Huh?”
“The first time I came here, I walked in there and I woke up two days later with a throbbing headache, blasted me out, and smashed me in two.” He looks around, and Kyan points to a huge tree that looks like its trunk has a face in it. No wonder he doesn’t want to come here.
“That tree,” Kyan says. “And I had to carry your heavy ass all the way home.” I take a step back. I’m not stepping foot in there if it spits people back out! I’m happy being whole and unbashed.
“Must be because I have marked you now,” Kyan laughs, shaking his head.
“I promise Ella, they will let you in, or it wouldn’t have let you stray from the path either,” Kyan says while holding out his hand to me just inside. Our eyes meet and I swallow, before I slowly place my hand in his. The sparks of the bond ripple through me at the skin to skin contact.
Hesitantly, I step through, and the draft of energy ripples over me, caresses and whispers to me.
“Well, that is one way to say welcome to the family,” Kora chimes in.
“What are you talking about now?”
“Well, if we weren’t welcome in their cult, it would have booted us like he said.” I chuckle at her, still holding Kyan’s hand. He pulls me toward two of the graves.
“Celeste and Hades,” Kyan whispers.
“Moon Goddess Celeste and Hades, the God of the underworld?” I ask. Looking over my shoulder, he nods.
“When their human bodies died, they were brought here.” Kyan tugs me over to the other two, one larger than the other.
“That one is Luna’s, Hades’s, and Celeste’s daughter,” he mutters..
“Wait…?” I am confused, very damn confused.
“Hades and Celeste were mates. They had a daughter together and her name was Luna. Luna was Kaif’s mate,” Kyan explains.
“And that’s Kaif’s grave?” I ask, pointing to the other. Kyan’s eyes flicker to Kaif for a second, and he nods.
“So Kaif killed the Moon Goddesses and Hades’s daughter?” I raise an eyebrow. Shit, this is both creepy and oddly interesting.
“Yes,” Kyan explains. “Luna and Kaif also had a son. Celeste and Hades are my ancestors.” My head is spinning as I try to absorb what he is telling me.
“So you are part, God?” I blurt, and Kyan chuckles.
“Yes, Celeste was a demi-god. She was the half-sister of Venus. Hades was the God of the Underworld and still is, but he is also my god knows how far back, grandfather,” he chuckles.
I mull over what he tells me, letting it all sink in. This is a lot. “So you’re cursed by Hades. He cursed his own bloodline?” I clarify, Kyan nods.
“Divorce was frowned upon back then. Hades’s human name was Hades Octavian, and he was Celeste Octavian’s husband, aka the Original Moon Goddess.”
“That explains why he is hung like one,” Kora adds, and I snicker, not needing that mental image when trying to concentrate on what he is telling me. Pushing that image away, I focus on Kyan once more.
Marabella
I shake my head at Kora’s words. Damn horny wolf. Kyan walks around the graves and touches them, looking them over. His tattoos ripple in waves over his arms, and curiosity gets the better of me. I have to know if I am seeing things or if they actually are moving.
“Random question,” I say, and Kyan raises an eyebrow at me. “Your tattoos, they move,” I tell him. Gosh, that sounds insane even to my own ears.
“Octavian blood,” Kyan answers.
“That’s all I get? Well, that explains it all.” I tell him, folding my arms across my chest, annoyed.
Kyan rolls his eyes and holds his hand out before twisting his wrist. The tattoos suddenly ripple and rush to his hand, forming a ghostly inky sphere that hovers on top of his hand. The substance is slightly transparent. Almost like mist and shadows morphing into something semi-solid, and he tilts his hand. The shadows move whichever way he turns his hand.
“Octavian blood shadows, we are all born with them. They cling to us, react to us, to remind us,” Kyan explains.
“Remind you of what?” I ask.
“Of everything we have ruined, shadows of our past. Each generation is born with some form of shadows. They usually awaken when you turn eighteen unless you are twelfth gen like me. I was born with them.” He looks a little sad as his eyes skim the tattoos, but he quickly hides it.
“So everyone in your bloodline has freaky blood shadows?” I ask.
“Yes, my dad had the same markings, though his held past bloodlines of memory and future visions.” Kyan says, a corner of his lip twitches at the mention of his father.
“And yours are different?” Kyan nods.
“Yes, the shadows that taint me aren’t of Kaif’s side. Mine are the shadows of his past mate’s side.” He explains.