FATE’S FOOLS: Fate’s Fools Book One Read online

  FATE’S FOOLS

  Fate’s Fools Book One

  OPHELIA BELL

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  Contents

  Synopsis

  1. Deva

  2. Deva

  3. Deva

  4. Rohan

  5. Deva

  6. Deva

  7. Deva

  8. Deva

  9. Keagan

  10. Ozzie

  11. Deva

  12. Keagan

  13. Deva

  14. Deva

  15. Ozzie

  16. Deva

  17. Deva

  18. Deva

  19. Deva

  20. Ozzie

  21. Deva

  22. Deva

  23. Llyr

  24. Deva

  25. Deva

  26. Rohan

  27. Ozzie

  28. Deva

  29. Deva

  30. Rohan

  31. Bodhi

  32. Deva

  33. Ozzie

  Coming Soon

  About Ophelia Bell

  Also by OPHELIA BELL

  Synopsis

  How do you find a soulmate - without a soul?

  * * *

  Deva Rainsong was meant to be nothing more than a vessel to house the enemy's soul. Bred in a lab with a link to 'the bloodline', she is a mix of all four higher races and the only creature of her kind. No one, not even her family, knows how she works, or what she is truly capable of. With the death of the enemy in the last war, Deva has lost her purpose. Despite the deep connection she shares with her companions, love without a soul can only be an empty affair and she refuses to bind any man to that existence. Unclaimed, empty, and soulless, Deva has been left with nothing but a deep, cold longing for a love that Fate will never offer. But, when something begins hunting members of 'the bloodline', it becomes Deva's personal quest to find out who – or what – is harming them. With her special link, and her five suitors in tow, she is in a singularly unique position. Together, the band of six will embark on a mission to uncover the secrets of bloodline souls, love, Fate hounds, and the true extent of Deva's powers...

  * * *

  Warning: this series is a HOT and steamy reverse-harem odyssey not meant for the faint of heart (or libido!)

  1

  Deva

  The ursa claim that when they go on their pilgrimage as young adults, they do this thing they call “soul searching.” I’ve always wondered what this meant. Are their souls like vessels that need to be emptied out like old luggage and filtered through to find clues to their true path in life? Or are they missing their souls and the pilgrimage is how they find them?

  I’ve never asked anyone else this question before because I kind of already know the answer. Their soul searching was a journey to understand the souls they already possessed. I’d have liked to think that my own pilgrimage was the same thing, except I was probably fooling myself.

  First of all, I’m not really on a pilgrimage at all. I ran away from home and my family is probably looking for me.

  And second, I don’t have a soul, which is a double-edged sword. It means I’m nearly impossible for my family to find, but it also means I am missing the one thing that could probably tell me where I belong in the world, and I’m fairly certain my own quest isn’t going to lead me to it.

  Ever since I ran, I’ve been going through the motions of this so-called “soul search,” but haven’t really learned a whole lot about myself that I didn’t already know. I’m an infinitely adaptable creature and a quick study, yet the powers I was born with are still wimpy as fuck. Three weeks into a self-imposed exile from the life I knew, all I’d really learned were things related to the human world to which I’d fled.

  Humanity was both amazingly resilient and heart-breakingly fragile at the same time. I finally understood why the higher races were so drawn to them. Why the dragons used to collect human mates and hoard them like treasure.

  That particular instinct wasn’t exactly dormant in me. Thanks to my somewhat unorthodox origins, I was magically linked to a special segment of humanity that was infused with divine blood. And thanks to that blood, there was something distinctly magical hurting some of the humans of the bloodline.

  My deepest instincts urged me to protect them. Whether it was my dragon nature at work, or a trait of one of the other four races that ran in my blood, I kind of wanted to take half the bloodline home with me just to keep them safe. That would have solved a lot of issues, but it wasn’t exactly feasible to show up in the Dragon Glade or one of the other three sacred homes of the four higher races with a whole pile of humans in tow.

  Even if I could go home. One of the few things I’d learned about myself was that I was stubborn as hell. I was part human, so that resilience and tenacity was there, but I was also immortal, so not so fragile, at least not on the outside. I couldn’t leave the human world until I’d figured out what was hurting the people I was linked to and why, even if it meant keeping watch over the one thing they possessed that I didn’t: their souls.

  The irony was not lost on me.

  I’d spent the bulk of my three-week introduction to the human world within the sterile hallways of hospitals, achingly aware of every sad soul that suffered within their halls. But that’s where the victims of these magical creatures had wound up, each one falling into mysterious comas for days on end. So far I’d only been able to observe events, powerless to do anything but hang around and wait for something to happen. Without a clue about the reason for the attacks, or what these creatures were, I had no way to stop them, so it was a waiting game.

  Another thing I’d learned in those three interminable weeks was that human food was disgusting. I peeled the piece of bread back from the sandwich I was about to eat and narrowed my eyes at the blob of . . . something . . . that rested beneath.

  “What is this?” I poked at the brownish substance and scrunched my nose. A low chuckle carried from the next table in the hospital’s desolate cafeteria.

  “Catch of the night,” my dining companion said. “Canned tuna salad is my guess.”

  I darted a glance to the man, mild heat rising in my cheeks at the realization that I’d spoken out loud. My heart skittered at his striking gray-green eyes, a contrast to the warm brown of his skin, no less vibrant for the weariness in his bearing and his unkempt hair and scruffy chin. He lifted his own sandwich in a little salute and took a bite, his eyes twinkling.

  “See. Edible.” He took a second bite, then his eyes bugged out and with an exaggerated spasm he slumped down with his face on the tray. His muscular forearms bracketed his head, both covered in mesmerizing colorful designs that stretched from wrists all the way up past the sleeves of his plain threadbare t-shirt.

  I lifted my eyebrows and twitched my lips. He opened one eye, narrowed it at me, then sat up and finished chewing.

  “No reaction huh? Tough crowd.”

  “You were faking, but nice try?” It was tough to be surprised when his intentions blazed in his aura, clear as day—just as clear as the telltale orb of light inside his chest. His soul possessed a particular quality that gave him away as a member of the bloodline I’d taken it upon myself to watch over—a saturated quality to the power that made it clear he'd been touched by a god.

  Still, I probably should have laughed. He’d just surprised me and my interpersonal skills were still . . . well, rough would be an understatement. I k
new how to act around family, but my family wasn’t exactly human. This cute, tattooed guy’s humor was new to me.

  “I’ve seen you around the last two weeks, are you a doctor?” he asked, apparently giving up on attempting to make me laugh. I kind of wished he’d try again so I could do it right the second time.

  “No,” I said. “I think they eat in a separate cafeteria, anyway.” I waited and hoped he’d follow through on the inevitable recognition that always came when a new member of the bloodline finally registered what I was.

  This particular man was someone I’d watched for the past two weeks, ever since his arrival with a sick elderly woman whose condition was poor and slowly deteriorating. Humans were fragile creatures, but her fragility had very little to do with her humanity or age, and everything to do with why I couldn’t go home yet, even if I wanted to.

  But so far I’d only watched him from a safe distance, protected by the bounds of human social customs—and the hospital's visitation policies. Now that he was talking to me, I was painfully aware of his attention. Until now I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed simple conversation, but more than that, I missed contact so much I ached for it.

  He’d stopped eating and just sat looking at me. I took a bite of my sandwich and pretended not to notice. I knew better than to push, despite how giddy the simple sound of his voice made me. It would be easier if I let him start the conversation.

  The bloodline were the only members of humanity that knew about my kind, and they’d only just discovered our existence. Despite the efforts the higher races had taken to clue them in, most of them still seemed pretty damn oblivious, or at least selectively blind. Another thing I’d learned about humanity was that they were incredibly adept at denial, even when they had more than enough evidence of the truth right in front of them.

  “Discovered” was probably a strong word, though. The bloodline had already been on the verge of discovering the higher races when we decided to pre-empt them by carrying out a powerful ritual to link to them all and send them a message. It basically amounted to, “We mean you no harm but please keep our secret.” Even after three weeks, they were taking their time catching on.

  I barely tasted the questionable food as I chewed and swallowed, hyperaware of the man as he stood up and moved to sit across from me. The quality of his aura had changed, from a dim blue that signified weariness, to a crackling violet warning of confrontation, but softened slightly by faint pink curiosity. My belly clenched and I found it hard to swallow.

  “You’re like me, aren’t you,” he said in a low voice. “Or . . . are you one of them?”

  My pulse raced when I set down my sandwich and lifted my gaze to meet his. Dark brows curved over his pale greenish eyes and his skin was a tawny brown about a shade lighter than my own. His black hair fell almost to his shoulders, mussed like he worried his hands through it often. He raked fingers through it, confirming my observation. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed as he swallowed and a piece of carved stone that hung on a thong around his neck jiggled lightly. The pendant was a carving in the shape of a musical clef.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Am I like you, or like them?”

  It wasn’t really a test. I genuinely wanted to know. I was technically human. Both my biological parents were human, at any rate. But I’d been ripped from my mother’s womb shortly after conception, then grown in a tank and sustained with immortal blood for the first five months of my existence.

  Being so acutely conscious of every moment of my life, even from those first glimmers of awareness after conception, should have made it easier for me to understand my own nature . . . to know where I fit in. But it only made it infinitely harder. Because I wasn’t just human. The blood of the higher races that ran in my veins defined me as much as my humanity did. And part of the reason I’d run to begin with was to try to understand what I was. I couldn’t be everything, that was too damn confusing. But at the moment I didn’t really feel like I belonged anywhere at all. Maybe his observation would help me understand.

  He studied me for a moment longer, then shook his head and frowned. “I think you’re something else. But if you aren’t human, you have to be one of them, right? You just look so normal. I mean . . . you’re fucking gorgeous. They’re all beautiful, but, um, you look mostly human.”

  I gave him a gentle smile and nodded, barely containing my elation at simply having this conversation at long last, and with a man as lovely to look at as he was. “I am mostly human. But out of curiosity, what do you see that suggests otherwise?”

  His half-eaten sandwich lay forgotten on his tray, though he stared at it blindly for a second before looking at me again. The divine glow that tinged his aura flared, reminding me that though the bloodline was also mostly human, they carried faint genetic mutations that linked them to the higher races. But more importantly, they were all carrying blood that linked them to a god. That divine link had been dormant until three weeks ago, the god at the other end of it on the mend after a particularly brutal attack. But he was at full power now, and so the bloodline was now at full awareness of the higher races.

  My new friend seemed to struggle for words and my heart went out to him. None of this could have been easy. First, to discover out of the blue that humanity wasn’t the only race with advanced intellect on the planet, then to discover that whatever traits marked him and the rest of the bloodline as special also made them targets for some invisible threat. But I had to know what it was he saw that identified the higher races.

  Over the past three weeks since I’d left home, I’d learned to be cautious when I interacted with the bloodline. I think we may have been a little heavy-handed with the cautionary aspect of the spell we cast on them to protect our secrets. They avoided talking to anyone about us as a result, even each other, and were downright terrified of any of the higher races they came into contact with. Somehow I managed to fly under the radar. The higher races barely paid any attention to me when I came across them, and the bloodline just gave me odd looks, as if they wanted to say hello but were afraid of looking dumb.

  This man was clearly willing to risk looking like an idiot to get it out, and I’d be damned if I discouraged him from talking.

  “It’s all right,” I finally said, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. His head jerked up as though I’d just shocked him and he stared at me, his hand tightened into a fist beneath my fingers and the intricate design on his forearm flexed. I saw what looked like scales inked into his arm that faded from deep red to bright turquoise.

  “Fuck, you are one of them,” he breathed. He relaxed his hand and spread his fingers out, then turned it over beneath mine until our palms touched and I got a view of the rest of his tattoo of a huge fish swimming amid stylized blue-green waves. Warmth radiated from his skin along with a spark of something more that made my breath catch in my throat.

  The increased intimacy made me want to pull away, but he seemed on the verge of a revelation so I left my hand in his grasp. Taking a deep breath he said, “It’s like you all resonate at a different frequency than the rest of us. Like the sunlight bounces off your skin differently, and sound waves travel around your bodies differently. But until a few weeks ago I just didn’t have the senses that could see and hear you properly.” Glancing up at the abrasive fluorescent lights, he chuckled. “Guess nobody’s immune to crap lighting though, huh? It took me a few minutes to be able to tell after you sat down, but now . . .”

  He slid his palm along mine and a charge of electricity seemed to pass through my hand into his skin. I pulled my hand back and rested it under the table on my lap, uncomfortable with the rising need that simple touch had elicited. I didn’t need my dragon or my nymphaea nature waking up with this enticing stranger. Or at all, for that matter. Too much was at stake.

  “What’s your name?” he blurted out, his eyes now bright with eager curiosity, the floodgates somehow having opened up after our touch. “What kind are you? The messa
ge said there were four . . . ah . . . races? Are you a dra—” He clamped his mouth shut and glanced around. The windows displayed a near-empty parking lot lit with rows of lights and the cafeteria was dead, aside from one lonely cashier reading a book near the self-serve stations across the room. At this time of night the place was a graveyard.

  “No, I’m not a dragon,” I said. “At least not exactly. My name’s Deva Rainsong. I’m sort of an ambassador from all four races.” That sounded at least plausible. He didn’t need to know that what I was, while it had a name, wasn’t exactly definable. I was a chimera . . . a hybrid of not only the four higher races, but human too. And I was the only one of my kind in existence.

  He also didn’t need to know that I had effectively run away from home and was absolutely lost when it came to understanding my own nature.

  “Day-va,” he said, smiling as he drew out my name. “I’m Bodhi.”

  “I’m happy to meet you, Bodhi,” I said, smiling slightly but too apprehensive to make it stick. Thanks to his rippling aura and a particular quality to his words, I could sense he was about to ask me something and I wasn’t going to have a good answer for him, which killed me.

  “You guys have . . . abilities, right? Mystical powers?” He lowered his voice again as he shoved his tray out of the way and leaned closer to speak. The desperation that had lain dormant during our interaction thus far flared to life, crackling though his aura.