Fall of the Arch Lich (D'Vaire, Book 6)

by Jessamyn Kingley

  “They can’t, they didn’t execute anyone unless they murdered someone. You didn’t kill anyone that I know of,” Drystan responded.

  “I wanted to kill that asshole Sigimund this morning.”

  “Who didn’t?” Conley asked.

  “He’s always been an asshole,” Baxter insisted. “But he took it to a whole new level this morning. He’s now the king of them.”

  “He’ll probably head up the Order of Necromancia now and give himself that title or something on par with the Emperor,” Chander said.

  “Speaking of Chrys, he’s threatening to remove the dragons from the Council,” Drystan remarked.

  Chander turned his head and the room spun a bit. “Really?”

  “He was pissed,” Conley confirmed. “He told the Council the last time he was this embarrassed was when he learned of our murders.”

  “Wow.”

  “I spoke with Alaric,” Drystan revealed. “He’s hired Evergreen and Dudley.”

  “That’s good, I didn’t want them to get fired by the Asshole King.”

  “Alaric seemed genuinely upset about this morning,” Drystan confided.

  “Ugh,” Chander replied as he lifted his drink back to his face. He was grateful when the horrid doorbell rang again and the pizza arrived. Everyone was then too involved with stuffing delicious pepperoni heaven into their mouths for further discussion. The last thing Chander wanted to talk about was Alaric, though he was grateful he’d taken care of Evergreen and Dudley. That was a weight lifted off his shoulders. He knew Evergreen and Dudley would do a fantastic job for the Sentinel Brotherhood, and the only asshole they would have to deal with was Alaric. And the only person he was awful to was Chander.

  After two slices and a healthy belch, Chander smeared all the sauce on his fingers onto a napkin and slugged down more vodka.

  “Hey, stay coherent over there,” Drystan ordered.

  “I can still think,” Chander replied. “More’s the pity.”

  “What’re you going to do about this mess?” Drystan asked.

  “Fuck the elders,” Chander retorted. “They never wanted me to be Arch Lich. Now they’re going to have to rule again and quit blaming me for all their shit-poor decisions. They never let me help my people. I can’t do anything. I never want to be in that position again. I won’t be their puppet.”

  “Necromancers aren’t going to have an easy time of it,” Drystan said. “Those elders are a walking, talking disaster club.”

  “I know it. I’ve always known it. But the Council wouldn’t intervene and help me wrestle back my rightful powers. The other leaders were too afraid that if they began forcing one race to rewrite their bylaws it could happen to them. Now they’ll find out firsthand how crazy those fuckers are. They aren’t going to let anyone besides themselves rule the necromancers.”

  “That includes you,” Drystan pointed out. “You’re still a necromancer.”

  “Half,” Chander remarked. “And they don’t want me. Think I could get sanctuary status?”

  “You aren’t the Arch Lich anymore. But you’re still a Council leader.”

  “What the fuck?” Chander asked.

  Drystan fished out a card from his pocket and handed it over. Chander’s vision was a bit too fuzzy to make out most of it, but he knew it was a new ID Card. “You’re now the Lich Sentinel-mate.”

  For some reason that was hilarious, and Chander laughed until his sides hurt. He was alone in his merriment. When he was finally able to control himself, he shook his head and immediately regretted it. The room swam in a sickening manner. “That’s Alaric’s fault. I told him to sign those damn separation papers. It would have stripped me of his title.”

  “What’s wrong with being the leader of the Sentinel Brotherhood?” Benton asked.

  “I love sentinels,” Chander replied. “Except for one. He’s an asshole.”

  “No offense buddy, but you dumped him,” Baxter said.

  “He deserved it.” As drunk as he was, it made Chander a bit weepy to think about it now. He loved the bastard. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  “You do realize no one besides you even knows why he deserved it,” Conley observed.

  “He won’t admit it, but Alaric knows. There’s another person who knows but I don’t want to talk about him either.”

  “That’s as clear as mud,” Drystan replied.

  Chander fortified himself with more alcohol. He didn’t know how this conversation had gone from the asshole elders to his asshole mate. Neither situation was at the top of his list to think or talk about. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “That’s your prerogative, Chand, but it might help you to get it out,” Benton said. Chander disagreed, nothing would ever “help” this disaster.

  “It won’t fix anything.”

  “Why not try it anyway?” Drystan asked. “Humor us sober people.”

  “I can’t. It will change everything.”

  “You’re only deepening the mystery here,” Baxter insisted.

  “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I could never be enough for anyone.”

  “That’s complete bullshit. Alaric was always at your side once you let him be,” Benton argued. “I should’ve known. You told him to fuck off because you didn’t think you were good enough. You let that overactive part of your brain that never lets go of every little mistake—real or perceived—rip apart the best thing in your life.”

  Chander struggled to sit up straighter but he wasn’t sure if he managed it or not. “No!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t do anything. I was doing my best to be a good partner. It was Alaric. He fucked things up. Not me.”

  “He was literally at the compound when you lost your shit and your demon emerged,” Baxter countered.

  “I found out while he was gone,” Chander confessed.

  “Found out what?” Drystan asked.

  Bracing his hands on the wall, Chander managed to get to his feet.

  “Where the fuck are you going?” Baxter asked as Chander wandered around the room looking for his laptop. He wasn’t going to sit here and get blamed for ruining his relationship any longer. It was Alaric who had wrecked everything, and he was going to show the people he loved how.

  “My laptop,” Chander blurted out after he walked around and found nothing.

  “I’ll get it,” Benton said and hopped from the bed. He retrieved Chander’s device from his bag. Chander took the opportunity to all but fall back to the floor and help himself to more drink. When Benton handed him the computer, Chander asked him to open his email.

  “Hand the laptop to Drystan,” Chander ordered. Once Benton complied, he added, “There’s a folder called Alaric. Open it. You can decide if my sentinels should see their leader like that.”

  Drystan told the sentinels to turn their backs from their spots on the bed and with a quick glance at Conley followed Chander’s instructions. He sipped while the Reverent Knight turned the computer so Conley could see the fucking photo that had ruined Chander’s life. Both men were used to breaking criminals; their poker faces gave nothing away. It was a surprise to Chander that he was relieved he no longer had to carry the burden of Alaric’s deceit alone. He liked knowing his friends would finally understand why he’d chosen to end his relationship.

  “Your sentinels should see this,” Drystan finally said. The two men in question all but dove for the end of the bed where the Reverent Knights were holding court. Drystan handed the laptop over and Benton’s eyes went wide. Baxter’s jaw locked.

  “Chand, we need to talk about this,” Conley remarked.

  “You see what he did,” Chander insisted. “I wasn’t enough for him. He fucked Victor in our bed. What more can you say about that?”

  Baxter gave him a hard look. “I love you, Chand, so it pains me to say this, but you’re an idiot.”

  “I knew you’d get mad. I told you the sentinels shouldn’t see their leader like that.”

  “That’s not
why he’s upset,” Drystan replied. “I know this had to be very shocking for you to receive. Who is Amraphel?”

  “I don’t know. The asshole who sent me that photo.”

  “That’s Victor, isn’t it?” Benton asked.

  “Yeah.” Rub it in, Chander thought. The cute little cat shifter had bagged his mate.

  “I wish you were sober, so we could have this discussion properly,” Drystan remarked.

  “As always, I’m a disappointment to the world around me.”

  “The disappointing thing about this is that you believe this photo is real,” Baxter announced as he slammed the laptop closed.

  “Of course it’s real.”

  “Chand, your mate is a sentinel,” Benton pointed out. “Sentinels are magickind. Magickind are incapable of cheating.”

  “Incapable is stretching the truth and you damn well know it,” Chander countered. “It makes people sick, but the equipment still works.”

  “Only for some races, and those are few,” Drystan said.

  “Not for fucking sentinels who have no sexuality at all besides their mates,” Baxter replied. “Alaric doesn’t even see beauty beyond you. We’re about as extreme as it gets when it comes to mates.”

  “You’re basing that on your experience as well as Gavrael and Gedeon’s,” Chander argued. “You can’t base an entire race on two couples.”

  “Almost all the sentinels are mated now, Chand,” Benton reminded him. “They’re all the same way.”

  “Have you ever considered Alaric is the flawed sentinel we’ve all been told about for centuries?” Chander asked, bitter that no one believed Alaric had cheated even though he’d offered photographic proof. “Maybe that’s why he was imprisoned, and that spell was cast on him to prevent him from seeing to his own needs. If the former Arch Liches had realized he could go outside his matebond, they would have considered that unforgivable.”

  “Prove it to him,” Baxter ordered Drystan. “Do an investigation and show him this photo is fake.”

  “Chand, even if this photo is real, a crime was committed by emailing it to you. That’s justification for prosecuting someone for coming between mates,” Drystan stated.

  Chander’s laugh was forced. “Ironic that I’m under the same suspicion. I don’t care if it was a crime. I’m glad I know. I am happy I’m no longer stuck living a fantasy.”

  “He’s not just drunk, he’s crazy,” Baxter lamented.

  “I have to show this to Alaric,” Drystan said. “He has the right to open an investigation if he wants. You need to agree though.”

  This time the hilarity was real. “Open an investigation into what? Getting the guy that ended his charade of being my happy mate? That’s hilarious.” Chander’s amusement had him falling over, and he hit his head on the floor. He decided to twist his body so he could see everyone from his new vantage point. It took too much energy to sit back up. The other four people in the room kept talking about why Alaric didn’t cheat but Chander tuned them out. He knew the truth and it was as real as he was. Closing his eyes, he decided he was sleepy. It’d been a shit day and he was ready to put it behind him.

  Chapter 9

  Benton tugged the blanket over Chander’s sleeping form. After the former Arch Lich had passed out on the floor, they’d carried him to his bed. Then the Reverent Knights had taken Chander’s laptop as well as Conley’s box that he’d rested in for six centuries and departed. Chander was going to throw a fit when he woke up in the morning, but Benton decided he would have to get over it. Alaric deserved to know someone had altered a photo with the sole purpose of tearing him and Chander apart, and that damn box belonged in a museum.

  “Come on, let him sleep,” Baxter said through their mindlink. Taking the proffered hand, Benton allowed himself to be led across the expansive, empty condo to their bedroom. Once inside, Baxter tugged him close and kissed him.

  “Can you fucking believe that shit?” he asked as soon their mouths separated.

  “I never dreamed someone had sent Chand something so vile.”

  Baxter’s sandy brown eyes were turbulent. “Why didn’t he consider it was fake?”

  “He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He never thinks he should be happy, and he was so sick, Bax. Then he gets this picture. I’m sure it pulled the rug right out from under him.”

  “At least we know why he freaked now.”

  “And why he didn’t want us to know. He didn’t want to damage Alaric’s credibility in our eyes.”

  Baxter huffed out a breath. “Yeah, and would you be showing off pictures of your mate humiliating you that way?”

  “If you stuck your dick in someone else, I’d cut it off.”

  “Good news, it won’t work with anyone but you.”

  Benton tilted his head. “Do you think there’s any merit in what Chand said? That this could be the flaw the necromancers found in sentinels and that’s why it was Alaric who was bespelled?”

  “I think he believes it’s plausible but no, I don’t see how that could be the story. You know Alaric never left his side when he was in the hospital. When Chand came home they were always together. When the hell would he even have had time to be boinking Victor?”

  “I wonder how Alaric is going to react to seeing that picture. It might make this whole situation even worse to discover your mate thinks you’re cheating scum.”

  “I wish Chand had confronted him with his so-called evidence.”

  Benton laid his forehead on Baxter’s shoulder. “I do too.”

  “Who the fuck do you think sent that?”

  His head snapped back up. “Let’s think about that for about half a second. Who wants to hurt Chand? Who has always wanted to hurt him?”

  “The fucking elders.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, how did they manage it?”

  Benton stared at Baxter. “Bax, Victor told us they visited the condo while Chand was in the hospital. All they had to do was put a camera in there and take a photo of Alaric and Chand doing their thing. Then doctor the image so it looked like Victor was the one doing the deed with Alaric.”

  “I guess the question now is, can the fallen knights prove it?”

  “You think Alaric will agree to an investigation?”

  “I think no matter how angry he is at Chand’s delusion in believing he was wronged, he will want justice.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Ben, I’m always right.”

  “I’m the only one in this apartment who isn’t delusional.”

  Baxter palmed the back of his neck and took Benton’s mouth in a heated kiss. His body responded instantly. It always did when Baxter was near. Benton’s blood flowed south as he wrapped his arms around Baxter’s waist. Baxter’s hands smoothed up his back as their lips and tongues waged a war they would both win.

  “Who is fucking whom?” Baxter asked telepathically.

  “I’m going to lie down on our bed and you’re going to fuck me nice and slow.”

  “I want your clothes off.”

  Benton pulled away and smiled at his man. Then he let him go so he could yank his T-shirt over his head. He grabbed his daggers, which were hovering at his sides as usual, and set them down on the nightstand. Baxter was mirroring his actions, and together they undid their belts and divested themselves of their pants. Standing there in their underwear, Benton admired the defined muscles that covered Baxter. They’d been together for many months now, but he never tired at the sight of him.

  “Underwear, Ben.”

  “I’m getting to it.”

  “Stop admiring the view and get on the bed.”

  Rolling his eyes, Benton removed his boxer-briefs and enjoyed watching Baxter do the same. Baxter was already hard, and his cock bobbed as he crossed the room.

  “Ben, get the fuck over here.”

  Leisurely, Benton wandered over to the bed and crawled to the center of it. He put a pillow under his rigid dick and stacked his arm
s under the one cushioning his head. Baxter dropped a kiss on Benton’s lower back.

  “I love your body,” Baxter said.

  “Same goes.”

  “My dick loves it too.”

  “My ass is waiting for it. Less chatter. More fucking.”

  Baxter chuckled. “Spread your legs.”

  Benton did as Baxter requested, and the mattress creaked as the other sentinel scrambled to get between his thighs.

  “I hope you grabbed the lube.”

  “Shit.”

  With a sigh, Benton lifted his body up on his elbows and snatched the bottle from the nightstand. He tossed it at Baxter and resumed his former position.

  “You think you’d be better at this by now,” Benton said as he heard the snick of the top.

  “You’ve never complained before.”

  “You usually don’t forget vital things like that.”

  Sighing again, this time in pleasure, as Baxter rubbed a slick finger over his hole, Benton closed his eyes and prepared to enjoy the most exhilarating part of being in bed.

  “I’ll have to make it up to you,” Baxter whispered as he leaned over to lay a kiss on his shoulder blade.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Benton was rewarded with two wet fingers sliding inside him. The pleasure they caused as they began to work their magic forced a moan out of him. He was glad this was a vital part of lovemaking. They were anxious for each other; they always were. All too often they didn’t bother with much foreplay, but their bodies always required this act of stretching. It was a delightful prelude to what was to come. Whether he was on the giving or receiving end, he relished the experience.

  “The way your back is arching, I’m guessing you’re no longer full of complaints.”

  “I’d lie here and let you do that forever.”

  Baxter chuckled. “I’d have to stop at some point. My ass would be so jealous I’d need you to start fingering me.”

  Lifting his hips a little higher, Benton groaned out Baxter’s name when his clever digits skated over his prostate. Baxter used his free hand to torture Benton and began running it over all the exposed skin he could reach. He toyed with his balls, circled his hole, and kneaded his thigh. Dragging his engorged cock over the cushion underneath it to get some friction, Benton buried his forehead into the pillow. He wanted Baxter to hurry the fuck up and never stop all at the same time.