The Wake - Daughter of Perdition (Book Three) Sample

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The Wake is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by Adell Ryan All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher and the copyright owner constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Published by Upside Down Red Umbrella First Edition: Jan 2022 Cover Art by Upside Down Red Umbrella Edited by G. Surley

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CHAPTER ONE

I

imagined witnessing my first lightning storm much differently; the sky is nowhere near the midnight blue I envisioned, nor is the water twinkling with the reflection from the stars.

Midnight blue has been replaced by a dreary crimson several shades darker than the bright red from the previous astral round when the sun was high. Of course, the water matches — a mirrored image of the foretellings the sky is prophesying.

Raener is here — that was always part of my expectations — but his presence is where the similarity ends.

A tempest rages around us. My already wild strands whip to and fro as though my hair is a storm of its own. The only thing keeping the frizzy ringlets from my eyes is Vialla's power object — a claw blade currently doubling as a hair comb. I have refused to part with her weapon since the moment she used it to threaten the existence of my déō doúloi and battle companions.

A flash of her indigo-colored eyes imprints on my vision, floating across the blood-red sky after another bright lightning strike.

"Perhaps this change in Ceteris is my penance for the mass genocide I influenced — the meal I partook in that we are finally reaping the benefits of. At what ultimate cost, though? The fulfillment of prophecy? Rae, is my territory being punished because of what I did?"

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Raener chuckles at both my blabbering and my use of the nickname our daughter coined. I nudge him in the ribs. He wraps his hand around my elbow in defense and places my arm around his waist before giving me a kiss on the temple, drawing me in close, and responding over the whistle of wind. "Right now, I don't care. And you shouldn't either."

When Raener can tell my mind refuses to settle, he stands, pulling me up with him, and leads me toward the frothing water. "We cannot change the outcome of the prophecy." He spins me to face him and entangles us in an embrace. "Lean in, Basílissa."

Ever since the discovery that Vialla was using dark magic for nefarious reasons seemingly unknown to anyone else, all my men have stressed this same lesson again and again over the past several moon cycles.

Between then and now, nothing terrible has happened, but nothing promising, either. Except for the return of energy to the land here in our territory — the result of a quarantining effort of sorts.

As soon as the other basílissas heard rumor of a sister queen possibly being to blame for the cause of the declivity of energy in Ceteris, according to Sitara, they agreed to conjure barriers in order to prevent beings from traveling between territories — paidagōgói and mesítēs excused. This served a couple purposes: to help strengthen the lands again and to keep the queen to blame sequestered to wherever she disappeared to that astral round. In doing so, she could no longer steal what the other queens had worked so hard to earn throughout their existences. Of course, as far as we are aware, only Sitara and I know Vialla is at fault. Whether or not the other queens know is yet to be determined.

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The shields are working, but beings are getting restless. Especially now that the prophecy seems to no longer be just a story told around a campfire but has become a reality that will forever remove Ceteris from history tomes.

"Adrestia," Raener whispers, dragging his nose from the top of my shoulder to the dip between my clavicles. A particularly spectacular lightning strike webs across the sky. The charge of his touch — a power he has honed and quite enjoys using against me — combined with the ethereal electric current above us jolts me back into the present.

Goosebumps alight on my skin from the increasing buzz of atmospheric energy, and my nipples perk in anticipation as Raener inches his warm lips toward my breasts.

That downward path abruptly stops, however.

His bottomless terra-colored eyes lift to the sky, and a shiver quakes through his lean, corded body. Raener has always had an affinity for lightning, and my neverceasing wayward thoughts are ruining this rare moment with him.

With a sigh, I drop my hand into his. "Sorry. My thoughts refuse to cease, but this lightning storm surely will."

"Exactly." He squeezes my fingers. "Those thoughts can be addressed later. This cannot." Raener tugs me forward until the water licks our toes. Or, rather, slaps them. The waves seem just as excited about the storm as Raener.

As soon as the first lightning strike happened a couple sun positions ago, he dragged me out of my pallet at Kallias's side where I had been in a fluctuating state of self-pity and heartbreak for quite some time.

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Leaving him is always a challenge. We have increased feeds, influencing sin in the mortal realm in order to take advantage of filling the territory reserves, which means leaving his pallet side often. When not feeding, I cuddle with him. Heal him. Talk to him. Wait for him to return to me. No matter what I do, though, he will not stir.

Raener had enough. Not of my need to be near my déō doúlos but of the state of defeatism I tripped into.

My men are all supportive. Even now, Raener does not push me. Though I know he wants to. He would pluck the thoughts from my head — steal my memories again — if it meant I would come back to the here and now.

The storm was a perfect excuse for him to overstep our hierarchy and "persuade" me out here with no other agenda other than to just… be. Exist. Enjoy.

Fuck.

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CHAPTER TWO

aener sidles closer, brushing our arms together, and lifts my hand to his mouth. The graze of his lips across my knuckles sends a web of its own electricity through my veins. My knees buckle, and Raener lets out a breathy chuckle as he wraps his arm around me for support, pressing our torsos together. His cock wedges parallel with my lower belly, the raging erection pulsating between us. I tilt my head back and narrow my eyes at him. "You" — I point an accusatory finger close to his face — "are using your powers against me."

"For you, my basílissa. Never against you." Our power of háptomai — touch — has grown increasingly stronger. No longer able to study the realm's scrolls and codices as a paidagōgós, Raener puts most of his time and energy into honing his oikía power. "Deny me," he challenges, slipping a hand between us to spread my thighs.

Should I do such a thing, he would stop. But I cannot deny him, power or not. Nor do I want to deny him. A small spark of heat emits from his fingertips as he slips through my folds and drags them lazily into a circle against my clit.

My thighs tighten but do not seal him out. My head falls back and eyes close, air pumping harder through my lungs as he works into a faster flick and rub.

Electricity crackles around us, and the veins in my closed eyelids flash in the shape of a rooted tree when another streak of lightning hits.

R

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A terra-shattering boom resonates around us soon after, and his lithe fingers thrust in perfect rhythm with nature's fury. The ground shakes, and my legs quake.

Raener generally enjoys drawing out my pleasure, but right now he is on a mission. He groans as his fingers delve deeper. This time, he adds a touch of power, creating a lightning storm inside me — heat, vibration, and a twinge of that euphoric energy current.

My inner muscles contract and tingle, throbbing uncontrollably.

As a prior paidagōgós, Raener is teaching me a final lesson — one of letting go and enjoying what precious moments we have left. The sky fractures again and so do my insides. A wave swells to our knees and crashes around us in tempo with the pleasure ebbing and flowing in my body. Each crest and recede of the water mimics the clench and release of my inner walls around his fingers.

His opposite hand, looped around my lower back, holds me steady. Instead of letting me relax — letting my body recover for a short time — he drops to his knees in the angry water and laps his tongue against my sensitive nerves. Tasting. Savoring. Relishing.

My hands drop to his messy, white-silver hair, fingers gripping for a handhold. His hands scoop around the back of my thighs, fingers pressing deep into my flesh.

Hardly able to support myself, my back curves, body melting into the spear of his tongue, arms curving around his head to hug him against me. The vibration of a hum tickles against me, and again my body explodes.

I grip his shoulders, clawing desperately to persuade him to impale me with his cock, but as much as he and I both enjoy merging in that way, he prefers using 9

me in every other fashion possible first due to his existence before our partnership lacking the touch of a female. Ironic, considering his oikía power is exactly that — touch.

His onyx-amber eyes, shadowed from the red around us, peer up at me from under thick, dark lashes, corners wrinkling devilishly — a playful evilness despite the supposed innocence paidagōgói are meant to exude.

Raener finally releases my thighs, but that does not mean he's ready to discard me just yet. Nor ever. He scoops my hand into his and wades us through the murky, red water to the rocks, then grabs my waist, hoists me, and situates me just right on the bulbous protrusions.

He then presses his palms on the rocks at my sides to hover above me and push into a kiss. "I intend on making you come until your mind is so muddied with pleasure you have no choice but to think of nothing else.

No matter our environment, I would just as well be inside you, on you, and over you in every which manner than do anything else for the rest of our existences."

Our increasingly shortening existences.

Pain, fear, and sadness amalgamate in his mischievous gaze, contradicting his friskiness. But I catch them; those emotions run deeper.

I lift my hand to his cheek, and he nudges against my palm, eyes fluttering closed as the sky lashes out yet again.

"My purpose in this existence was rewritten the moment you brushed against me the first time. The prophecy might promise our end, but it cannot steal our history. Us. We are eternal regardless of what the codices dictate or which parts of the prophecy are fulfilled."

Raener closes the distance between our mouths and drags his lips against mine painstakingly slow. Squeezing his 10

eyes closed tight, he takes a shaky breath, one hand readjusting to grip his girth between us and give it a singular stroke.

Ready, Raener lines his cock up with my entrance. As the tip broaches, the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end. His eyes pop wide and wildly flick up toward my hair. As though he is the one controlling the storm, the aggressive thrust of his cock slams in perfect time with the crashing boom and blinding strike of light. An electric sizzle cracks around and through me, ceasing the beat of our pulses for a single breath before restarting them.

However, when the buzzing remnants of sound dissipate, a harrowing ringing takes its place. Buried deep inside me, Raener's head jerks over his shoulder, eyes tracking the vast sky toward our village. His attention whips back to me just as fast, and he shakes his head, eyebrows flattening. "Oh, fuck that," he grinds, slamming inside me again.

The realization of what that ring indicates is lost on me until the wind pauses long enough to lessen the whistle competing for attention.

The territory alarm.

Raener digs his fingers deep into my jaw and cheeks and crashes his mouth against mine, thrusting inside me again.

An amused chuckle vibrates in my chest. Of all my déō doúloi, Raener has the worst luck getting between my thighs. He was not meant for a role within an oikía, but we broke the rules. Fate, the universe, design — whatever choice entity one should use — insists on complicating our relationship at every turn because of that rebellion; his cock so much as twitches 11

at the thought of impaling me, and inevitably, something comes between us.

I wrap my hands around him, fingers digging into his bare ass, and pull him firmer into me. "Best hurry, hm?" I whisper in his ear with a lick of my tongue against the lobe.

A shudder jolts through him, and he groans, stilling inside me for a breath, feeling all of me before he is forced to pick up the pace and rut like a wild animal.

The alarm sounds again, and he rolls his eyes before giving me a quick wink and slight upturn of his lips.

Raener straightens, slides his hand up and between my breasts to my neck, wraps his fingers around the sensitive column, and squeezes.

His gaze turns wild, dark, determined. The hairs on my body rise for an entirely different reason. The electricity he creates within me. The incredible force conjured when the two of us combine.

We pick up a maddening pace. Grinding. Filling.

Wrecking. His hand tightens, constricting what little breath in my lungs remains.

Together, and with one more perfectly timed lightning strike, we tumble and crash into a release.

Cuddling afterward is not on our newly dictated agenda, though. Raener quickly removes himself, helps me down, and we rush through the undulating water to the shore to collect my bow and quiver.

We have a new Fallen. Several at the same time if the incessant ringing is any indicator.

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CHAPTER THREE

y the time Raener and I arrive at the base of the watchtower, the red-tinted rain billows, obscuring the faint sliver of sun beginning to peek above the trees. Brax is dictating to his regiment, roaring over the torrential winds. He quickly wraps up assigning positions, making sure the entire territory is protected while instructing several other Watchers and volunteer village huiói to scatter and investigate the unexpected cause of the unceasing alarm.

"I counted twenty from the tower window. At least," Brax rumbles loudly, turning to address me whilst using his large forearm to shield his eyes from the lashing downpour.

In the case of newly Fallen, the land sets the alarm — that same invisible power that creates and controls their cages should they attempt to refuse their fate here in this realm. Only occasionally does a Watcher set the alarm himself. Because of its incessantness, for a moment both Raener and I worried it had been manually triggered.

Ever since the barriers between territories were set into place, not a single new Fallen has arrived. Now, it appears we are making up for that.

"Impressive, grigori. I had no idea you could count that high," Raener quips. "Though, twenty seems a bit overindulgent, even rounding to the nearest twentieth."

What with the obnoxious rain and Brax being a couple feet higher inside the whipping wind than Raener,

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Brax doesn't appear to hear the tease. His large muscles ripple from both nerves and excitement as the consequences of the forthcoming task likely play out in his thoughts.

In Raener's defense, one Fallen at a time is the usual. Two, a surprise. Twenty? Never. Until now, apparently. Since I fell, however, my oikía and subjects have grown thicker skin. Nearly anything is possible; I have proven as much after all.

"Raener." Wiping the sluice of water from my eyes, I address my former paidagōgós over the roar of the storm. "I want my oikía involved. All of you. Have one of the Watchers stay behind with Kallias." My eyes dart upward toward Brax. He scans his remaining regiment, points a finger, and the Watcher he indicated stomps off toward my dwelling. After a quick kiss on the cheek, Raener rushes away behind him to collect my other available men.

"Thank you." I mouth my appreciation to Brax, knowing he probably wants to keep as many Watchers on this particular task as possible. He really has no choice but to obey me, but we have never been much for drawing attention to that.

Brax tilts his head in acknowledgment, the hint of a smile masking as he quickly converts to leader mode. "New flesh to torture, men!"

Kidding, he throws me a wink. I roll my eyes.

"No torturing," I correct. "Not unless they give you good reason to. The new Fallen are to be treated fairly, just like each of you were on your Fallen astral round."

A sea of eyebrows rises, and I dart another glance at Brax. He steps forward. "I do not think that command will do what you think it will do," he rumbles. "You, by 14

far, had the kindest treatment on your Fallen astral round."

"Kind treatment?" I scoff, leading the trek up toward the forest above our village. Brax takes my side, and his regiment and chosen huiói helpers fall in line behind us.

My Fall was everything but kind. I rub my backside at the memory of being dragged through the forest and press my fist into my chest at the recollection of how maniacally my heart pounded as I was thrust off the cliff.

Brax shrugs his massive shoulders. "Poor timing."

"So I have been told." The memory of pain and fear is replaced by the even more momentous occasion that astral round: my first déō doúlos falling beside me.

The recollection snaps my thoughts back to the order I gave Raener just moments ago. I glance over my shoulder into the distance toward the village that is now a ways behind us. I hadn't thought ahead enough to consider the potential risk of having my half-huiós, halfdaimónion companion tend to these new Fallen.

Especially if something is awry.

There is still quite a bit we don't know about how much or little control Kirian has over activities related to Belíar and The Maker. He is one of my strongest, most lethal déō doúloi but only when not controlled by transcendental puppet strings — or his own lack of confidence. Thanks to him being part huiós, though, he at least has a modicum of control where that is concerned. Sometimes. Plus, ever since we found Vialla in the cave with her new… pet, the voices in his head have been eerily quiet. Coincidence? Unlikely.

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The forest comes rushing back to the forefront of my thoughts when Brax's meaty arm slings out in front of me, and I go flying backward. Blinking away the shock, Raener comes into view, bending to assist me back onto my feet. Lips pressed into a tight line, he crosses his lean arms — so opposite of Brax in every way. I curve my eyebrows inward apologetically.

"Get out of your head, Adrestia," he states through clenched teeth.

Maker, that has been such an issue with me lately.

I cast my gaze over his shoulder through the sheet of thick rain and see Brax in a bent-knee, circling showdown with a feral Fallen. His free hand lifts for a moment to wipe the water away from his brow before he jerks forward, intimidating his opponent.

I adjust my bow and pull an arrow, pivoting in a circle. Several Watchers and huiói are in a similar battle of wills with newly Fallen beings — all aggressively feral.

While my thoughts were screwing with my ability to focus — fight, protect, lead — the many Fallen surrounded us, and I was the only one to not notice.

Raener acts as my coherent mind and immediate bodyguard while I gather my wits and seek out those of my oikía who returned with him. Oryn and Kirian are restraining a couple of Fallen, and Blaze is hidden in the shadows closely assessing the situation.

Amid the drenched crowd, Brax now has his opponent pinned to the ground.

The alarm blares again, droning over the sound of feet shuffling against the terra, grunts of battle, and the roar of wind and rain.

"Again?" I yell over the ruckus, eyes shooting upward to peer between any and all open patches of sky 16

through the swaying trees. I aim my arrow upward along my sightline, but at the sight of the pink-hued, low lying clouds now being dotted black with more falling beings, the bow and arrow drops to my side and my mouth gapes open.

"Oh, shit," Raener whispers beside me.

"Take cover!" I screech, propelling forward, fighting against the heavy-weighted gusts. To make doubly sure every being involved hears me, I repeat my command, pulling on Kirian's oikía power of hearing.

The terrible and ominous whistling of several beings whooshing through the air at great speed peals through the forest. Nobody takes cover as the sight consumes us. Eyes track the sky. Even the feral Fallen watch their brothers descend.

A savage growl resonates near my ear. For the first time in a long while, I snap out of my mental barricade without the assistance of one of my déō doúloi.

Lifting my weapon, I angle to face the approaching newly Fallen — built like a man but prowling on all fours like a beast. Several of my party catch the oppressive change in the air and spin to my aide.

I hold up a hand, eyes flicking toward Kirian — the strongest of my déō doúloi but the weakest when it comes to my protection. His chest pumps hard, eyes flashing from sea-blue to red over and over again. I inch back until reaching my sikários who has been lying low up until this second wave of Fallen. "Keep Kirian out of this," I command.

Blaze moves quickly and efficiently, immediately wrestling an unexpecting Kirian to the ground. Kirian snarls and writhes against my assassin.

Blaze pins him with a glare, challenging him not just physically but mentally as well. It is for that very reason 17

I insisted on his help rather than one of my other déō doúloi; thanks to his sixth sense abilities, Blaze has a special connection with my half-breed companion.

Another growl, from a different Fallen, sounds nearby, and I pivot again. Their approach is slow, methodical. I take a couple backward sidesteps and angle myself to effectively alternate my aim from one to the other.

"Adrestia," Blaze growls, struggling against a writhing Kirian. "Leave them. Let the sikárioi and Watchers do their jobs."

Listening, my eyes remain on the two feral Fallen getting closer. Since my own Fall, I have accompanied Brax several times to welcome new huiói. Sometimes with success, sometimes without.

The feral ones tend to stay as far away from us as possible. Not prowl and threaten.

With Blaze and Kirian, my two best fighters, brawling with each other and everyone else trying to manage our new arrivals, the rest of my attending oikía tighten around me. Oryn and Raener position themselves on either side of me while Brax covers my back. My eyes never leave the two Fallen who have chosen to approach me directly.

My focus keeps catching on their skin. At first, I assumed the odd hue was a trick of the unusual lighting and red rain bath. However, when I pull on the faint power of sight from my pallet-ridden déō doúlos, their off-coloring is not a sleight of eye. One of them, the closest of the two, has deep bronze skin, but the tone is fading quickly. My attention darts to the second Fallen.

The lack of luster in his skin is fainter but taking on a similar downturn nonetheless — the familiar dull hue of the hybrid-daimónia Vialla controlled.

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My head shakes in disbelief. I sling my attention side to side to get Oryn and Raener to draw in even closer so I can speak with the two smartest men in my oikía.

"Look closely," I state. "Their skin. Do you see what I see?"

Oryn rubs a hand over his drenched face, palm cupping his mouth. Yep. He sees it too.

"Please tell me what I think is happening, is not."

My former paidagōgós answers: "They're turning."

"Never one to follow rules, hm?" I huff.

Raener lifts his shoulder.

"But they have not expired. The other hybrids had to be taken down first — their existence temporarily snuffed out. These Fallen are transitioning right here and now."

"Not to hybrids, then, but to daimónia perhaps."

Yet another growl sounds nearby, and Oryn spins.

"Every single one of them is changing. Shit."

The command to retreat weighs heavy on my tongue. They might be turning into beasts, but they are still mine. I hate making the decision to leave them — to not offer our assistance — but Blaze is right; we need to let the sikárioi and Watchers handle this.

"Everyone but my assassins and the grigori retreat!" I holler, defeated.

More than willing to comply and escape this insanity, my village huiói obey immediately, disengaging from their personal battles and taking off toward the hillside.

Oryn and Raener stay at my side while I watch as Blaze is forced to release Kirian, lest Kirian get punished from the hélkō for not obeying my direct command to 19

leave, then Blaze in turn for causing it, resulting in a domino effect of discipline.

Clawed hands clenching and wordless threats glared toward Blaze for restraining him, Kirian waits until the hélkō does, indeed, strike before bounding away. Only then do Raener, Oryn, and I take our leave.

Behind us, the sickening, consistent thump of bodies falling one after another resounds, louder than the once-again triggered alarm itself. Newly Fallen create being-sized craters in my land as one by one, they sledge the ground like a woodpecker's beak repeatedly carving away at a dead tree.

Rage simmering my essence, I come to an abrupt halt. Oryn and Raener skid to a stop beside me. "Go. See that they are safe. Make sure the village is secure. Tell the volunteer huiói their basílissa has assigned them the task of protecting our village. If nothing more, the responsibility will give them purpose."

Raener rubs his hand over my shoulder and squeezes. Oryn levels me with his mossy gaze and gives a curt nod. With a massive inhale, I spin on my heels and slog up the swampy hill back toward Blaze and Brax.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Adell Ryan is a hubby/wife pseudonym. Adell writes unconventional love stories about fierce women and their numerous male suitors. Because let’s be honest, we need more than one to satisfy our multi-dimensional needs. Right? Ryan simply puts up with Adell’s crazy fantasies and toots her horn regularly. Occasionally he’ll add in a shoulder pat, and a deep, sexy “Damn that’s good stuff.”

That southern boy (bless him) stole this northern girl’s heart and they live together in the deep south, raising their three boys. When Adell isn’t writing she’s homeschooling — primarily working on dictation, making sure they say ‘creek’ instead of ‘crick’ and ‘fire’ instead of ‘fer.’ She also dabbles in photography and graphic design. Oh yeah, and reading. Every. Night.

Much to Ryan’s dismay. Sometimes she puts the steamy stuff down and gives him a quick kiss on the forehead though.

To be the first to know about new releases and exclusive behind-the-scenes stuff, join the fun in her Facebook Group: facebook.com/groups/authoradellryan/ You can also check out her website at https://www.adellryan.com and sign-up for her newsletter.

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