“You want your chair or the walker?” Drystan asked.
“Walker, please.”
Drystan placed it in front of him and helped Rafe navigate his way out of the car. Once he was steady on his braced feet, Rafe shuffled toward the door with Conley carrying both his duffel and wheelchair. Mortis trotted alongside him, and Rafe swallowed heavily as Brogan appeared at the entrance. Refusing to look up at the Grand Duke, Rafe focused on his movements so he didn’t fall. With his attention on the driveway, he was sure Brogan wouldn’t recognize the gaunt man who would spend his last weeks or months at D’Vaire as the would-be High King-mate.
“Welcome to D’Vaire,” Brogan said, proving Rafe’s hunch correct. “Come on inside, everyone’s waiting to meet you.”
“Is everybody in the living room?” Drystan asked. The Reverent Knight and his mate greeted Brogan while Rafe crossed the threshold of his favorite place on the planet. Thankfully, the hallway wasn’t long, because Rafe was already winded and dying to sit. It wasn’t so much the movement of walking, but his nerves were getting the best of him. There was murmuring reaching his ears, and he swore his heart skipped a beat as he turned the corner and the great room opened in front of him.
Then Rafe heard his voice, and his heart nearly stopped. “Dermot, we’re so glad you’re here. Welcome to High Court D’Vaire and Dra’Kaedan’s Coven.”
“Thanks,” Rafe said, lifting his head. Everyone went dead silent as his eyes met Aleksander’s startled ones. His mate sucked in a sharp breath, and his gaze widened. Rafe bit hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from weeping. Staring at the stunning man in front of him, he seemed taller than the eight inches that separated them, but perhaps that was because Rafe was bent over his walker.
Mortis let out a woof as the shaking in Rafe’s legs got to the point where he either needed to find a chair or he was going to fall down. “Sit,” the wolf demanded.
“Take a seat,” Drystan ordered and guided Rafe to the closest one. Right off the bat everyone in the house could see how weak he was, and it embarrassed Rafe. As soon as he was settled onto a cushion, Drystan folded his walker and put it within reach. Rafe dared to glance back at Aleksander and found him still standing there like a stone with any emotion other than shock invisible to him. Whether it was his voice or perhaps something in his face was similar to the chubby man who’d once visited him, there was no doubt that Aleksander recognized him.
As for Rafe, euphoria danced through his veins as he stared up at the dragon that was going to make his spirit happy one day when they were reunited. It was followed by a sharp staggering pain that reminded him that he’d failed in surviving. The goal of recovering from what he endured had been unmet, and it hurt to know he’d lost his future.
∞∞∞
If it wasn’t for the voice that haunted his dreams, Aleksander might not have known his mate was in his house. The man sitting in his living room was little more than skin and bones and despite the often brutal Arizona heat, he was dressed in two shirts and a jacket. No longer a black dragon, his eyes were a vivid blue, and the expression in them was haunted. They were obscured slightly by a bounty of glossy curls streaked with gray. A single scar over his left eyebrow had been his only mark, but now Duke Rafferty Kestledraconis’s face was littered with them, and his skin was subtly wrinkled.
For nearly a year, Aleksander had been pelted with numerous emotions as he tried to deal with his other half’s desertion. What Aleksander had never considered was that he was somewhere facing something that must have been horrific. And if that were not enough, he was at D’Vaire simply to find some peace as he awaited certain death. Aleksander could not process anything, and although there was talking around him, he wasn’t capable of listening.
Noirin’s hand landed on Aleksander’s back, and she rubbed as he grappled on the verge of having a panic attack. Closing his eyes to block away the truth of his mate, Aleksander forced himself to breathe deeply and push away the emotions that wanted to strangle him.
“Can you sit?” she whispered.
Nodding, he forced himself to take the three steps he needed so he could take a spot on the sofa. This was nothing like the fear that took hold of him when he was out of doors, so Aleksander pushed hard against it, and found himself able to lessen the pervasive anxiety.
“You okay, Aleksander?” Drystan asked.
Releasing another breath and lifting his lashes, Aleksander wanted to reassure him with a smile, but it was impossible. “I’m fine, thanks.”
The Reverent Knight didn’t look like he was buying it, but he didn’t press Aleksander, which he appreciated. “We weren’t sure if you would recognize him or not. I understand the curls are new, but Dermot is actually the former Duke Rafferty Kestledraconis.”
“We’re glad you’re back, Rafferty,” Dra’Kaedan said softly.
“I prefer Rafe, and thank you,” he commented. His voice was raspier than Aleksander remembered, but it still turned him inside out.
It was once the name that Aleksander had called him, and it hurt that he’d so blithely changed to thinking of him as Rafferty. Stuck in his turmoil, Aleksander had needed distance from him, and guilt swept him. Especially since he could not stop gawking at the skinny man petting the wolf across the room. Their gazes were no longer locked, Rafe had stopped glancing in Aleksander’s direction purposefully or because he was orienting himself with all the people staring at him.
“Rafe, we’d like to introduce you to the newest member of our family. He wasn’t here when you visited last,” Renny remarked, ushering the raccoon toward Rafe. “This is Kitchi D’Vaireāēhsepan.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Kitchi commented and held out his hand.
Rafe lifted one of his, which Aleksander noticed was even more scarred than his face. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“What happened to you?” Kendrick blurted out.
“I was attacked,” Rafe answered, clearly understating what he’d gone through if the scars were anything to go by.
“No one at Court Kestle told me that,” Kendrick remarked. “Although it’s been a while since I texted with Sullivan. We lost touch months ago.”
“He never mentioned to you that Rafe was missing?” Drystan asked.
“No. I guess he wasn’t missing then,” Kendrick commented.
Drystan and Conley exchanged a look Aleksander couldn’t interpret. “You mind talking with us privately about your relationship with Duke Sullivan and the rest of your family?”
“The D’Vaires are my family, not them, but sure.”
Aleksander wondered why Rafe hadn’t gone to Court Kestle after he was attacked, but it hardly mattered. Rafe was here now, and somehow Aleksander was going to have to deal with it. Not only had he survived what horrors Aleksander could only guess at, but they’d already been told he was dying. The beast inside him roared mightily at the loss of their other half, and Aleksander had no choice but to shift at the first opportunity.
His dragon was strong, and there were times when he had to give in no matter his feelings on the subject. Meanwhile, he couldn’t even find words to speak to Rafe. Rarely did he find himself with absolutely no idea what to say or what action to take, but his normal assertiveness deserted him, and Aleksander went from nearly passing out from a panic attack to feeling so numb it overwhelmed him.
“Rafe, would you like to put your stuff in your room? We were able to get a large doggy bed for Mortis. Hopefully it’s comfortable,” Noirin chatted with him as he maneuvered into his wheelchair. The moment he was out of sight, Aleksander walked out of the house without a word. Without bothering to remove his clothes, he simply shoved off his shoes and embraced his beast. Seconds later, his wings were spread wide and he was heading for the sky—his only means of escape.
Chapter 31
Rafe was barely awake when he was forced to drag himself out of bed. Sitting up, he rubbed a hand over his upset stomach. Knowing that his wolf needed to be cared for, Rafe snatc
hed his braces off the nightstand and yanked up the leg of the crazy pajamas Larissa had made for him.
“Pee,” Mortis told him.
“I know buddy, I’m moving as fast as I can. If you need to go really bad, run down to the kitchen. I’m sure someone will open the door for you.”
“Can wait.”
“Okay,” Rafe responded. Shoving his feet into his combat boots, Mortis trotted to him with his hoodie in his mouth. “Thanks.”
Once he’d taken it from Mortis, Rafe pulled it on and unfolded his walker. It was a long distance from his room to the kitchen, but he had to keep up his strength for as long as he could so as he had for the last three mornings, Rafe shuffled his way to the great room.
“Let me get the door for you guys,” Noirin said when she spotted them. As for her mate, he caught Rafe’s gaze and glared ferociously. Rafe had no idea why Kendrick had so much animosity for him, but he decided one of his goals at D’Vaire was to try to mend his fences if he could with the only brother he would credit as family.
“Thanks,” Rafe told Noirin as he made his way outside. The three stairs took him time, and Mortis raced ahead with his tongue lolling out. Excited to be outside, he took off running while Rafe slowly eased his way across the uneven terrain. As soon as he got a short distance from the deck, he stood and breathed in the flowers of Dravyn’s garden. Vowing that he would let its beautiful fragrance remove the stench of the mine he’d called home for five months, it was indeed the remedy he needed. His mouth lifted into a smile as his wolf rolled onto his back.
“You’re goofy.”
“Try.”
“If I tried that, I wouldn’t be able to pick my skinny, decrepit ass off the ground.”
“Funny.”
“Yeah, I’m hilarious. Maybe I should be a comedian.”
“Throw.”
Rafe fished the ball out of his pocket and pitched it as far as he could across the land. Mortis loped off as if he were a large dog while Rafe backtracked toward the house. Lowering himself to the deck after getting up the stairs, Rafe held out his hand and Mortis dropped the toy into it.
“Ready?”
“Throw.”
Doing as he was told, Rafe flung it and Mortis took off again. It was great to see his buddy enjoying himself. They’d been outside together at a small courtyard at the hospital once he was able to get around, but there wasn’t enough room for Mortis to use up much energy. That settled things in Rafe’s mind about his decision to come to D’Vaire.
Rafe was also relishing the food. Deciding that with numbered days there was no point left in restricting his diet, Rafe had told no one about his doctor’s prescribed limitations. In the dining area, he enjoyed every tasty morsel Kendrick and Noirin put together. It left him with a host of issues afterward, but Rafe had learned months ago that nothing came without pain.
Mealtimes were interesting. Although he could walk in the morning, by afternoon he was too wiped to, although he’d attempted it the first day. It had worn him out so bad, he’d nearly missed dinner due to a long nap. No one talked to him much, and he purposely tried to stay away from the D’Vaires. Not wanting to interfere with their lives, he certainly wasn’t going to impact Aleksander’s—which turned out to not be a problem since the High King was nowhere to be found while Rafe ate.
That didn’t cause any anger in Rafe. Having barged into Aleksander’s world under a guise, he guessed that neither of them was prepared to deal with the aftermath of that decision. All he could hope was that Aleksander wasn’t taking things too hard. Aleksander had close to a year of wondering what to do over Rafe, and whatever tenderness or friendship existed between them had likely long died. Rafe was gathering his courage to someday say the things he needed to his old pal Aleksander. It was important that he continually remind himself that Aleksander was his past, and he hoped that his former mate would give him the opportunity to try and explain.
“Hungry?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Yes.”
Mortis released the toy into Rafe’s hand, and he tucked it into his pocket for when they were outside again in a few hours. Painstakingly, he got to his feet and dragged his already tired limbs to the door. It swung open seconds before he could grab it.
“Hey, you two,” Noirin greeted them, ushering the pair inside. “I found some dog recipes online and made you something, Mortis. I hope you like it. And Rafe, no arguments this morning. I’ll load up your plate, so you just get comfortable at a table.”
Since Rafe couldn’t take on the formidable duchess even if he was in perfect health, he did as he was told and found a seat farthest away from the D’Vaires, who were trickling in. Unlike him, they were dressed and groomed for the day. Having neglected to take his shower, he idly wondered if his hair was sticking up. Deciding he couldn’t care less, Rafe thanked Noirin once she set an overflowing dish in front of him. Murmuring an apology to his stomach, he dug in.
∞∞∞
In the same fog that had consumed him since the day Rafe returned to D’Vaire, Aleksander wandered into the building behind his mansion. On the top floor, he found all of Sorcery D’Vaire waiting for him at the giant round table Harley Griffinis had built for them.
“Hey, guys,” he offered as he sat.
“You okay?” Dra’Kaedan asked. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”
“I don’t know what I am. In shock, I guess. My dragon needs a lot of airtime.”
“Is there anything we can do for you, honey?” Saura asked.
“No, but I appreciate it. I’m kind of a mess, and I don’t know how to fix it yet. But that’s not why we’re here. Let’s talk about magic. We’ve worked hard recently to make sure our bubble is reinforced, and not even Chand’s demonic side can penetrate it, so I think we’re in a good place. It’s time to start something new.”
Dra’Kaedan threw up his hands. “Yeah, does anyone in here really not know what we’re going to be working on next?”
“I’m certainly not going to settle for our High King dying,” Saura stated. “We need to fix Rafe.”
“I’m confused,” Chander said.
“Oh, shit,” Saura muttered, raising her fingers to her mouth. “I forgot. Oh Aleksander, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, but we can’t let it go past this room for now, since I didn’t discuss it with Rafe first. He’s my mate.”
“Wow,” Chander breathed out.
“I have never doubted your abilities, but considering Rafe’s condition, I am not sure it’s fair to have a conversation about possibilities with Aleksander in the room,” Alaric stated.
“It’s okay, Alaric. I know everyone just wants to help.”
“You sure?” Chander asked.
“Please, go ahead.”
“He’s intolerant to druidic magic. That means we can’t even treat him with any plant I speed up with magic or alter with it,” Killian said. “We don’t have the luxury of time to grow a bunch of shit and experiment, so I’m not sure how I can help.”
“Do we know for sure that it was all druidic? Is there a chance they boosted their power with wizard potions?” Vadimas, the co-ruler of the Spectra Wizardry, asked. “It’s essential that we discover exactly what he’s intolerant to and what he isn’t.”
“I’ll call his doctor in Nashville and find out,” Chander said. Out of his chair in a flash, he was in the hallway before anyone could argue.
“I’m going to point out again that even if T’Eirick and I are derived from warlock, necro, and wizard magics, dark doesn’t affect the body the same as light. I think it’s very important that we do not negate our potential abilities.”
“Not only are you dark, but resurrected, so there are enormous differences in your brand of magic. I do believe you two are the best avenue for any chance we have to help,” Vadimas said.
“The beauty of that is, if it does come down to the darkfallen, every wizard, warlock, and necro here can funnel their magic through you guys,”
Dra’Kaedan told his parents.
“The druids were enhanced with wizard potions. The strongest ones they had,” Chander stated. “They drank them, instead of boosting them by cracking them open around him.”
“Well, that was stupid,” Vadimas retorted. “They aren’t intended to be used in that manner. That means that the magic they put into him would have continued to be activated instead of the extra going unabsorbed in the air. No wonder he was hurt. Do we know how bad?”
“They can’t release that information without Rafe’s consent,” Chander confided, taking his seat. “I already asked.”
“So we don’t even have a real idea of all we need to fix,” T’Eirick responded.
“No, we know he was a mess when we saw him and that it got worse from there. Drystan and Conley would have the details, but they aren’t going to tell us shit either. It’s up to us to get Rafe to explain the extent of his issues or allow us access to his files,” Chander answered.
“Before you go up to a dying man and ask him to see his medical records, you should damn well have some kind of plan in place. What if we’re going to get his hopes up for nothing?” Killian demanded. “I don’t want to do that to him or anyone else. That’s not fair.”
“I agree, sweetie. So, let’s do better than just a hunch that T’Eirick and I might be able to offer some healing,” Saura said.
“Plants are out or have no real help unless we can find one that we already know can do something useful,” Dra’Kaedan murmured. “We don’t know about wizard potions yet, nor do we have any idea about anything beyond druidic. You know, I teleported him. I wonder if he had the same reaction when I took him back and forth versus when he used Dérive.”
Heart of the High King (D'Vaire, Book 19) Page 22