Unmade (Unborn #4) - Amber Lynn Natusch Page 0,41
of concerned father.”
“Oh, but I am concerned, Khara.” He took a step forward, and Oz met his challenge with one of his own. His black wing extended far beyond me and rounded ever so slightly to protect my side, not that Ares could harm me. From what I understood, he could not hurt anyone, but that did not mean he could not have another do so in his stead. I scoured the surrounding trees for an ambush. I had not done as he had asked, and I was certain my insubordination would come at a price; what the price was remained to be seen. “So many hunt you, and you seem lost as to how to stop them.”
“If you cared so much, you’d call off your psycho,” Oz growled. “But you and I both know that’ll never happen, don’t we?”
Ares stared at Oz for a moment, as if he had only just now noticed the wall of muscle and deadly wings that stood before him. As if the threat had not registered at all. I wondered for a moment if he was the one I had inherited that trait from—the lack of fear that seemed to drive both my brothers and Oz mad.
“Why are you here?” I asked, stopping their argument before it could escalate. “I will not do what you ask, so you and I have no further business.”
“I think you might change your mind once you hear what I have to tell you.”
“If you think you can use her, you’re in for a rude fucking awakening, Ares. Her mother might have fallen for your tricks, but Khara is way too smart for that bullshit—”
“Do you know why you can never really trust an angel, Khara?” Ares asked, cutting the Dark One off. “Because they have no regard for your welfare—the Light or the Dark.” He pinned Oz with narrowed eyes as he continued. “They only seek to use you or kill you.”
“How interesting,” I replied, sounding anything but intrigued. “The former sounds like what you wish to do—most likely because you can no longer do the latter.”
Unbridled rage flashed in my father’s eyes and he took a step closer, the tension plain in his body. If he had possessed the ability to harm me, he would have unleashed a fury upon me that I wondered if even I would have survived. But he could do no such thing, so I stood fast against his hostility.
“I see your twin has poisoned your mind against me—”
“You make that awfully easy to do,” Oz said, his sarcastic tone notable.
“Sean has done nothing of the sort. I know who you are and what you have done, both before and after your abilities were surrendered. I have also suffered at the hands of your son, Deimos, which I imagine was at your directive, at least in part. To tame me. To subdue me. To make me subservient to you should we meet one day.” I advanced on him until I stood only a foot away, and though I knew I—or any of the PC—could not harm him, thoughts of doing so ran rampant in my mind.
For my twin.
For my mother.
“And I see that particular tactic has not worked.”
There was no apology to his tone, no argument refuting my claim; only a cold, dead stare that should have been terrifying, and would have been had he possessed the ability to follow through on its malice.
“Say what you came to say, then leave,” I said, using his harsh tone against him. “I have neither the time nor the patience to stand here and posture with you when neither of us can land a blow.”
“I can,” Oz said, extending the tip of his wing toward my father in warning.
Instincts I could not understand—had never before felt—rose from deep within me, and I pushed the obsidian threat aside, slicing my hand in the process. Blood dripped on the ground at my feet, but I did nothing to stop it. Instead, I stared at Oz as I slowly realized what had happened.
Ares’ laughter rang out around us. “Now you see the strength of our bond. You are blood of my blood, Khara. There is no escaping its call, ever. No escaping me.”
“Perhaps I cannot escape you, but I still will not do what you ask.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he said, turning to leave. “I wonder how your mother will feel when she learns that her daughter could have saved her and turned her back on the chance.”
“My mother…?”
“Ah, ah, ah,”