Captive Soul

by April Kelley

  What snow lay across the battlefield had long since been trampled beneath fighting and dead bodies. Turned up earth and a few sickly patches of grass was all that remained. So many beings in one space, all exhausting their energy, heated the air which kept the cold at bay.

  Jules wiped his brow, probably smearing blood and sweat across his skin. He had a mix of both. Most of it belonged to others, although he had a cut on his left side. He hadn’t checked it, but it felt raw whenever he moved, or his clothing rubbed against it.

  Jules never imagined death would hold a smell, but it did. It smelled like blood of course. The metallic sweetness lay just underneath the smell of piss, shit, and damp earth.

  Tommy fought right next to him. He didn’t have a knife but used his magic, striking out at his opponent with big spears of ice. He took down three at one time, including the guy flashing his teeth at Jules.

  Hacen stood a few feet in front of them both. He created the first line of defense, and it showed in the blood dripping down his arm. He licked his clawed fingernails with the tip of his tongue as he looked down at the vampire gurgling out his last breath.

  Hacen moved on to another opponent, and when he did, three vampires slipped by him. He expected them all to come after Tommy and him, but one did a one-eighty, holding a knife, aiming for Hacen’s back.

  Jules let out a war cry he never thought he was capable of and ran without thinking of the consequences. Something flashed off to his left, right before a pain shot through his leg. He stopped, his head twirling from the pain.

  Someone screamed, but it wasn’t him.

  His brain cells froze in place when he looked down to see a knife sticking out of his leg.

  He knew he’d die once he stopped feeling pain, so he reached down, gripping the black handle. His fingers slipped on the blood covering it. He tried again, screaming when he began to pull. He didn’t stop screaming even after it was out and still didn’t when he ripped the blade of the knife across a stranger’s throat.

  Any vampire but his vampire would die.

  Every step he took reminded him that he was still alive. The sound he made rang in his ears, echoing off each living being around him. Time slowed when the enemy raised his fist. Moonlight glinted off a blade. The pointed end of the knife was a foot from the back of Hacen’s neck. The knife descended one centimeter at a time.

  Jules’ vision grayed around the edges. A wall of water was all he heard when his leg finally gave out on him.

  Right before he fell, he threw his knife as hard as he could.

  The earth tilted and stars winked at him. His body bounced once when it hit, his head taking the brunt of the fall.

  Jules blinked when even the stars faded.

  “…saved your life.” Tommy. He could have been in a tunnel for all he knew. Every sound came to him in a whisper.

  “I’m right here, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

  Jules opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

  “He’s fading again…” That was the right word for it. Fading.

  “He’s gonna hurt Hacen.” He finally managed to get the words unstuck, but they slurred off his tongue.

  “He’s worried about you…no, don’t move him yet…Hacen. Damn it. He hit his head…medical attention…we can’t just take him.”

  Darkness closed around him. He fought against unconsciousness. Someone lifted him off the ground. Leather and lavender assaulted his senses. “Hacen.”

  “I’ve got you, honey.”

  Hacen’s deep voice, clear from pain, was all he needed to hear.

  Part Two

  Captivity

  Chapter Seven

  Jules woke up by slow degrees. Warmth radiated around him and into his deepest core as if a furnace surrounded him. He realized all at once someone held him in their arms. He snuggled closer to whoever it was because they touched him gently, rubbing his back in a slow soothing manner with one hand, running fingers through his hair with the other.

  Lavender. “Hacen.”

  It all came back to him. The knife inches from Hacen’s neck, ready to sever his spine. Jules helpless to do anything to protect him. “Hacen.”

  “Shh. Don’t’ cry, honey. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

  Jules hadn’t been aware he was crying until that deep voice whispered, but the wetness lay under his cheek, matting the chest hair as hot liquid slid around his face to the sinew beneath him.

  That was Hacen’s voice. The tone soothed.

  Jules opened his eyes to see olive toned skin and black arm hair.

  He needed to see Hacen. Make sure he was okay. With that in mind, he tried to move, but a pain shot through his leg.

  Warm wetness trickled down his thigh. The sensation annoyed him enough that he tried to wipe it away, but Hacen’s arms held him in place.

  “He opened his wound again.” The words rumbled beneath his cheek.

  The bed shifted and then settled again.

  Jules opened his eyes long enough to see Tommy’s smiling face. Instead of returning the smile, Jules asked, “Are you okay?” Jules’ voice cracked. His throat stung so he tried to clear it but that only made it worse.

  “Yeah, baby. I’m just fine.”

  Jules tightened his hold on Hacen. “Hacen.”

  “Shh. Relax, honey.”

  “He didn’t get you, right?”

  “You got him before he got me. Impressive throw.” The smile in Hacen’s voice was unmistakable.

  Tommy held a washcloth in his hand. Jules wasn’t sure why until cool air licked around the bottom half of him. Their gazes met and Tommy stopped moving, the cloth held suspended just briefly before he must have come back to himself enough to regain his focus.

  A cloth pressed against his wound.

  “Stop, Tommy. Hurts.”

  “I know, baby. But you’re bleeding.”

  Jules panted through the pain. "Just go get Mama. She’ll help."

  Tommy’s lips thinned out and he averted his eyes. He didn’t move but held the cloth against Jules’ leg. Tommy cleared his throat but otherwise didn’t say a word.

  Hacen’s deep voice rumbled under his ear. “You’re safe.”

  It was an odd thing to say in that moment and immediately put Jules on alert. For the first time, he took in his surroundings, looking beyond Tommy to the room around.

  He must be in Magnus' cabin. Jules had never been there before, but he knew Garridan renovated it recently. Jules would recognize Garridan’s work anywhere. The bookshelf against the wall opposite them and the table held his signature style.

  Ladon's mate, Magnus, used the cabin whenever he was in Saint Lakes. The cabin was a few miles out of town and lay in the middle of dense forests. It was close enough to Ladon but not too close, which was what Magnus needed. Ladon hadn’t had his first shift until right before the battle, which meant they couldn’t bond.

  Maybe Magnus had come home while Jules slept and he and Ladon were mated. Maybe he was still in the cabin. If he were, Magnus would take Jules back home. He would do it because Ladon would want him too. "Is Magnus here?"

  "No, baby. He's still out of town." Hacen’s hand glided down the length of his back

  "I want to go home."

  "Lucas and Bennett came by to see you. He said he'd come again when you woke up." Tommy moved the cloth away and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Jules’ cheek. He stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  "Everyone made it?" Jules held his breath as he waited for an answer.

  "Everyone is fine. I heard Fane was the one who got hurt the worst, but he's better now."

  Jules let out the air in his lungs in one big huff. A sob escaped with it and tears fell from his eyes. "Thank the gods."

  Hacen's arms tightened around Jules. Jules didn't want to want Hacen’s comfort. If he could remain steadfast and continue to brush off Hacen and Tommy that would be great but with the weakness his wound caused and the fact he was still gaining his bearings after just
waking up, he didn't have the will do resist.

  "Why didn't Lucas heal me?"

  "Your wound isn't life-threatening. He said he wouldn't heal you without permission."

  Jules let Tommy wipe the tears off his face with a tissue. "He probably healed a lot of people. It makes him tired and weak if he does it too much. I don't want him to hurt himself just to heal me, especially if I'll be okay."

  "You'll let him heal you when he comes again." Of course, Hacen would make demands. He couldn't just shut his mouth and let Jules make his own decisions.

  Jules sighed. "I’m not your prisoner." He was too tired to fight. He couldn’t keep up with Hacen in his current condition.

  Hacen's body stiffened underneath him. "You're not a prisoner."

  Jules sniffled and turned his head, trying to get into a more comfortable position. “Stop fighting with me.”

  "What food do you like, baby?" Tommy rubbed his hand down Jules' back through the blankets.

  "Not hungry.” His voice sounded husky with sleep even to his own ears. He yawned again.

  Tommy chuckled. "Okay. Is there anything you don't like?"

  "Slimey food."

  "What qualifies?"

  Jules sighed. "Tommy.” Gods, he was tired and just wanted to be left alone. Well, Hacen could stay if he shut his mouth. For all the muscles he had, it was surprising how comfortable he felt.

  “I’ll try to do my best at the grocery store.” Tommy leaned in and kissed Jules on the cheek. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back home in a couple of hours.”

  “Isn’t home.” Jules mumbled the words, half asleep already but he was awake enough to drive that one fact through both of his mates’ skulls.

  “What?”

  He rattled off the Somerset’s houses address. “That’s home.”

  Jules knew it hadn't been more than a few minutes the next time he woke up because the sunlight, streaming through the window, was the same as it had been. The real difference came when he realized there were sheets and a soft mattress beneath him, and not Hacen's warm skin and hard muscles.

  He lay on his stomach, which was how he normally slept. The only problem was his leg throbbed with pain so acute it was in tune with his heartbeat which made it impossible to move.

  The cabin was one big room with a closed door a few feet from the small round table Garridan had made and another door, open about a foot, opposite the other.

  Steam rolled out the crack of the door in small waves. Jules heard a steady stream of water. Just thinking about Hacen's naked bronzed skin glistening with water made Jules soft cock thicken just a bit.

  There was an old song his grandmother used to like. One part of the lyrics went, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me down. Got ta keep on plumpin’.”

  Yeah. That was his cock. Not even the pain in his leg could deter it.

  He might be remembering the words wrong, but it was a long time since he had heard it. Plus, his version made more sense to the situation anyway. And running the song through his mind kept him from thinking about the pain in his leg for a few much needed minutes.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain, he kept singing that same tune, making up more words as he went along. When he rolled over, the words fled. He sucked in the cry of pain, so as not to alert Hacen.

  Sitting up in bed proved easier than he anticipated. It gave him hope that he could hobble around a bit. He still had to collect his courage to swing his legs off the side of the bed, though.

  He stared at a small kitchen that lay in the corner of the room against the far wall. That part of the cabin was distinct only because a row of cabinets, a refrigerator that looked brand new and a stove with an oven all lay against the wall. Shelving with various boxes of food and cans on it, hung next to the cabinets.

  The entire cabin was small but cozy, with flowers on the table and a blue quilted throw blanket folded neatly on the back of the couch. Glowing flames lit up the fireplace which only added to the feel.

  Jules really could see himself curling up on the couch with Hacen and Tommy, watching the fire and making out. The thought sent warmth through his core and had him longing for that image more than he should.

  Focus, Jules. If you want to go home, you need to focus.

  He had on sweatpants that probably belonged to Tommy. They were big around the waist but didn't entirely cover his ankles. The sweatpants were the only thing he had on, though. Even his underwear was absent, which made him wonder which one of his mates took his clothes off and when.

  Jules pushed against the mattress with his arms. He tried not to cry out when the pain became too much, but instead grunted and mashed his lips together to keep quiet. His stomach rolled, and he had to swallow down the bile that threatened to spill. His good leg wobbled as he put all his weight on it.

  His grandma always said confidence and stupidity went hand-in-hand with some people. When he took a step away from the bed and lost his balance, he knew she was right. “As always, Grams.”

  He instinctively used his hands to break his fall, and they scraped against the hardwood floor. The skin on the meaty part of his palms was red, and his leg stung when he landed. He was pretty sure he opened his wound again.

  He braced himself on the mattress and lifted with his arms. Once he gained enough leverage to get his good leg underneath him, he put most of the weight on it.

  He stood there, gaining his composure. Once he had it, he hobbled to the closed door, moving slowly.

  He was fairly sure he could make it to the road, after that he didn’t know what he’d do, but he had to start somewhere.

  He spotted his shoes by the door. They were the only thing of his in the entire cabin. Thankfully, they were just slip-ons, so he didn't have to bend over and tie them. He didn't think he'd be able to and stay on his feet.

  He pulled open the door and hobbled out. His bad leg scraped across the wooden floorboards of the small porch.

  The stairs proved challenging because it lacked a railing. He stood looking down, bracing himself on one of the thick support logs.

  He bit his lips as he contemplated his options. There were only two stairs but maneuvering them could mean he ended up on his ass in the dirty snow. He didn’t have a lot of time left if he wanted to create distance between him and Hacen. How long could one vampire take a shower, after all?

  He finally just decided to use the log beam he leaned against for balance. He’d have to turn into it somewhat, but it might save him from a fall.

  He held his bad leg a few inches off the ground and hopped on his good one, clinging to the beam as if his life depended on it. His leg wound sure did.

  With each hop, knife-like pain shot through his leg, all the way down to his toes, landing on each board of the stairs.

  Once he ended up on solid ground, he took a moment to let the pain fade.

  The air was cold against the bare skin of his chest and arms, but he was determined to go home. The cold wouldn’t stop him.

  Jules moved away from the porch. Every step was a scrape and crunch against the snow. The noise echoed through the forest surrounding him, quieting the birds and squirrels who made their home amongst the trees and bushes.

  A trail cut through the forest to Jules’ right, so he headed toward it.

  How many times had Hacen and Tommy used that trail?

  Had their feet been the ones who formed it in the first place? If so, then they had been there a lot longer than Jules thought, stalking him like dangerous predators.

  A bare bush branch brushed against his leg. Jules pulled air through his teeth at the sharp pain. He braced himself against a nearby tree and tried to catch his breath.

  Footsteps pounded down the trail. Jules turned to see Hacen making his way toward him. He had a blue towel wrapped around his waist and boots on his feet.

  His dark hair glistened in the sunlight streaming through the trees. He slicked the long strands away from his face, which made the scar stand out even more.

 
No one should look that mean-tempered and so hot they could be on billboards in just underwear. It was unfair.

  Hacen never said a word but just walked up to Jules and scooped him up in his arms. Thankfully, Hacen held him so his leg wound wasn’t pressed against him.

  It was pointless to resist. He needed to heal up some before trying again.

  He put his head on Hacen's shoulder. When tree branches threatened to snap against him, Hacen somehow moved their bodies to the side and avoided them. It would have been a sweet gesture if not for the fact Jules was acutely aware Hacen was his jailer.

  "I want to hate you."

  "You make that very clear every time you open your mouth."

  "Fuck you." He whispered the words, his voice husky with pain and fatigue.

  "Fuck you right back." The muscles in Hacen's jaw bounced around.

  "You don't even want me, and you probably don't like me, so why are you so insistent on keeping me here?"

  Hacen stopped walking and looked down at Jules. His dark eyes gave away none of his feelings. "You're annoying, argumentative, and most of the time your attitude pisses me off. But I want you. So much it's a constant pain in my chest."

  “You’re a liar.”

  “Stop testing me, Jules. I mean it.”

  “Or you’ll what? Leave me with a psychopath.” Jules concentrated on the tick of Hacen’s jaw. “Oh, wait. You’ve already done that.”

  His jaw muscles ticked aggressively. “Stop it.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “You’re acting like a child.”

  “I don’t care.” He really didn’t. He had nothing to lose. He was already their prisoner. “You might as well take me home. If you don’t, I’m just going to make your life miserable.”

  “Miserable is just one of the things I feel around you.”

  “How about pissed off?”

  “Yes. And worried. Fucking guilty every damn time I look at you.”