rogue shifter 07 - cut off

by parness, gayle

  "No...but..."

  "The only reason you haven't already been stripped, chained and whipped raw is because from the age of five you were brainwashed by a freak with more mental power than any fae I've ever met, save one."

  Wincing at the description of my punishment, I looked around for a towel, but no luck. I kicked off my shoes and peeled off my socks, hanging them on the back of a bench. "Look, I'm sorry. I just wanted to help Mom."

  His voice rose as his anger turned volcanic. "Sorry doesn't cut it. What did Kennet tell you? Did he say that it was fine to force people to do what you wanted them to do because you're the prophesized hero of Faerie? Or maybe it was because you were his son? That it was your right to take away someone's will?"

  He was up in my face, his eyes on fire, his fangs fully extended. Holy shit. I had to fix this. "Do it to me." I spurted out.

  "What?" He stepped away in surprise.

  "Kennet did it to Mom, didn't he?"

  "Yes." He didn't explain, but I figured what Kennet pulled must have been really bad. I was glad to see that his eyes weren't glowing, which meant he'd calmed himself down. A minute ago I could've sworn he was gonna beat me unconscious. "Charles. Now may not be the best time to ask this of me."

  Okay, he never calls me Charles which meant he was still really pissed. "I trust you."

  "I'm going to hurt you."

  "Do it. Do it and make it—make it bad. Make me understand. So—so I don't forget."

  He met my gaze, apparently taking my request seriously. An icy shiver ran over my skin, like I'd been dunked in a snow bank. "You're sure?" he asked, an eyebrow arched.

  I gave myself three heartbeats to change my mind, but even though I wanted to back out more than anything, I couldn't do it. "Yes." I said, surprised by the hoarseness of my voice.

  I had to know what my psycho dad had done to the people that I cared about, even though my stomach was a queasy mess and my knees were threatening to give out.

  This was me being an adult, and boy did it suck.

  Isaiah said something in Rux and the goblin put the steaks on a platter and disappeared.

  "I'll ask you once more. Do you want me to control your mind? Do you want me to force you to do something you don't want to do?" His voice had lost any hint of emotion, as if he'd pulled away from me. The Angry Isaiah of a few minutes ago had freaked me out, but this coldness was worse.

  I tried to swallow, but my spit had dried up. "Do it now."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Lord Folont had finished with Elle. She was curled up on the floor of my chambers bleeding badly so I stopped the flow and left the rest for her to heal on her own. Folont was an amateur, his use of the cane awkward at best. His victims always passed out too soon.

  "Stand." With the help of a nearby table, she pushed herself up with great effort, shaking and staring at the floor. "Drop your shields." I demanded.

  "No, Lord Kennet."

  I stepped closer, running my hand through her messy hair. "Your shields are strong for a mongrel, however, when I rip through them, you may lose your mind." She choked on a sob and complied. "Good girl." I patted her wet cheek.

  A tear splashed on the floor by her foot. I placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. "Tell me about the vampire, and I may not go into your mind at all."

  "He is kind." She met my gaze with the tiny thread of courage that remained within her.

  "He is weak in that way." I ran a finger over her bottom lip and felt the vibration of her shudder. "What else?"

  "He believes that his mate will not allow his son to come to court."

  I grabbed her ear and twisted it hard. She cried out and tried to pull away. "My son. Charles is my son. Say it."

  "Charles is your son. Forgive me, lord."

  I threw her to the floor in disgust. She hit the rug hard, barely keeping her face from smashing against a table leg. I gave her a moment to catch her breath, then asked, "Does he believe Jacqueline will come?"

  "Yes." she panted. Her ear was bright red, standing out against the background of her pale skin. "He believes she will try to rescue him. He fears for her safety. He loves her."

  I turned away, unable to stomach her romantic notions. "She will come to me. I know it." I glanced back at the female spread out on my rug, her wounds still raw. Jacqueline had never looked so pathetic. She had always seemed strong and lovely, even when she bled from my strokes with a leather cat.

  "You may leave. I won't touch your mind today. I have more pressing matters." I flicked my hand, sending her through the lines to her new protector. Next time I'd play with her for hours to make it clear who owned her. It certainly wasn't the vampire.

  The knock came a moment later. My captain bowed low. "Sire."

  He was fearless, this one. If the queen heard him referring to me by that name, he could be thrown to the slaugh. After his initial bow, his gaze never faltered, despite the fact that he was underfed and lacked sufficient sleep. His motives were clear to me. He was counting on my protection, seeing in me a future where his magic might be returned to him full force. I understood ambition, but also discretion. "Lord is sufficient." For now.

  "Yes, Lord Kennet."

  "I have a job for you." I sent him the information mind-to-mind.

  "I will see to it."

  "I am certain you will."

  "It is an honor to serve you, lord." He bowed again and dissolved into the lines.

  I opened my terrace door and strode to one of the cages that housed a captured demi-fey, intending to give her a piece of fruit and perhaps a tidbit of meat. Unfortunately, her spirit had faded, making her final journey to Tir Na NOg. Perhaps she'd meet up with my father and Queen Aine. Thinking of those two brought a frown to my face. If it were up to me, the former rulers would be burning in some Faerie version of Hades, but then Finvarra had good reason to take the jealous queen away from court.

  As I wandered the outdoor paths behind the palace, I took in the flavor of the evening. Nighttime in the Faerie Court glowed with a brightness unusual in worlds where the dark was not perceived as an enemy. As a child, Fionna had been afraid of the dark, so as queen she used much of her magic to keep our nights bathed in bright moonlight and starlight, almost to the point of dispelling all shadow. A victim of night terrors, she was brought to her mother's bed and coddled, sometimes driving her father, the king, to other beds. My nighttime terrors were real and painful, as my mother dispelled her mad fits of loneliness by beating my sister and myself. The childish anger and sense of betrayal I felt at the time was transformed as an adult into a raging sirocco that can only be tamed at the controlling end of a whip or cane. The irony is not lost on me.

  I passed a fountain that spouted crystal blue water from the graceful hands of a marbled likeness of the old king and queen. They were a glorious pair in many ways, sustaining the court's health and power, ensuring that all fae were fit and battle-ready. We could have taken down the Demon Realm itself in those days, yet in the end Aine and Finvarra chose another path. They now live in a new reality, one without pain or conflict, passion or significance. I am left alone in this one, although soon that too will change.

  Jacqueline's courageous spirit and sensuous body drove me to an act I find to be tedious with most females. They hand over their minds without much struggle and I guide their bodies as I wish. Love is a fantasy, as is loyalty and friendship. In my world, there is only strength, patience and cunning.

  Yet in Jacqueline's presence I experienced an ablution of...of something restorative. I surmised it was the energy of her healer reaching out to my empty soul. I crave to feel it again. I will have her, and with her, my son.

  And then another child.

  Before I passed through the door to my bedchamber, I looked once more at the tiny body of the demi-fey, no longer animated, her spirit lost to this world. Soon she would disappear completely. I would ask Fionna for another. A male, I think.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Elle r
eappeared an hour later on the floor by the window, groaning and then curling into a ball. Blood stained the back of her dress where she'd been beaten and there were bruises on her neck and ear. She needed to be tended to, and it was clear no one in Faerie was going to help her. That left only me.

  I held my breath between words so I wouldn't smell the blood. "Elle. Talk to me."

  "I need sleep." she whispered, obviously in pain.

  "You can sleep after I clean you up."

  She moaned, but forced herself to sit, wincing. "It's nothing new. Lord Folont gets his exercise by caning me. He's better than some."

  I peeled the tunic away and was stunned by the marks across her flesh. "Why don't you heal them?"

  "Kennet healed the worst of it, but the queen blocks my healing magic for twenty-four hours after a beating. Then she only restores enough so that I can heal myself and function on the lowest level, never enough to escape or fight back. Not that anyone can fight against Fionna or Kennet."

  I remembered the male who brought us to this room. "Does she also block the magic of full-blood fae?"

  "Yes, to some degree. Except for her favorites like Kennet and their personal guard. That's why so many of the others look thin or still have scars. They have to ration their magic, so some choose not to heal so they can keep their personal shields as strong as possible."

  I helped her into the washroom and dampened a cloth, then cleaned off each line where her flesh had been scored by the cane. She was brave, even though the process must have caused her pain. I thought of Jackie, and how Kennet had whipped her, and found Elle staring at me strangely.

  "Your eyes are silver. The blood must be disturbing you. Are you hungry?"

  "Yes, but that isn't why my eyes have turned. I'm thinking about when Kennet whipped my mate. I want him dead as much as you do."

  "Kennet is...he is an animal. I would go to Folont twice a day rather than spend an hour with Kennet."

  "Why did he heal you?"

  "I must be kept strong enough to feed you."

  "Did you know he was about to be executed, when Fionna saved him? The Dark Lord of the Hunt was never satisfied."

  "Yes, we've all heard the story of the queen's evil siblings in Cascade who were going to massacre their youngest brother because he chose to bed a shifter."

  "He raped and beat my mate. He had his own people kidnapped and held prisoner, chained in iron for months."

  She shuddered as she laced her dress. "Thank you for your kindness. I have not met another vampire. Are they all like you?"

  "Like any other race, most of us are peaceful when we're allowed to be. You should rest."

  "After you feed from me." I began to protest, but she interrupted. "Feed and then we will both sleep. Your mate needs you strong."

  Her blood infused my starving body with much needed energy. I took the smallest amount, but it was more than enough to bring me back to full strength. If only I could somehow access the lines.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  "Put up your strongest shields." I did. Intense pain tore through my mind when he tore them down. I cried out, bending at the waist. "You may not speak or move away." Then I was mute. It was that fast. I would have still been moaning from the pain, if he'd allowed it. "Stand straight and look at me, Charles." My head turned in Isaiah's direction without instruction from my own mind. Some primal hindbrain told me to run, but I couldn't even twitch a finger.

  His expression was stern. "Walk to the grill."

  I picked up my right foot, intending to head toward the woods that bordered the mountains, but instead, my legs and feet carried me across the patio, while my thoughts and emotions spun in terrified confusion. I started to say something like, Hey, man. I didn't exactly mean that you should barbeque me, but no words came out of my mouth. I felt heat. I started to sweat. I stepped back—only I couldn't.

  I was facing the grill, maybe only a foot and a half away. I tried again to turn, but my body didn't respond. I watched the heat rise in waves against the black of the open lid, my eyes blinking as they dried. I shuddered with anxiety, an automatic response that even he couldn't control. I tried to tell him to cut it out, but my mouth—didn't—wouldn't move. I couldn't even grunt. In desperation I tried to use magic, but I was blocked. He'd blocked me from my own magic.

  I was helpless and fucking terrified. He could kill me now, and no one would ever find out how I died. I'd just told him I trusted him, but...but this was too much. This was wrong and he should set me free.

  "Look at me." Isaiah stood beside me wearing an expression I'd never seen in all the years I'd known him. It was cruel. Hard. I was going to die a horrible death today. "Kennet forced your mother to kiss him and enjoy it. He made her body want him, even though her mind was screaming for him to stop. He heard her screams in his mind, as I hear yours, yet he did nothing.

  "What you tried to do to me, what you're capable of doing to others, is mind rape. Cruelty in its most heinous form. Never think of it as anything else. While you play with them, your victim is helpless. Terrified. Screaming inside their heads. Begging for you to release them."

  He looked out at the mountains while I stood by the grill, sweating. I wondered what would happen if I fainted. Would I fall into the grill and burn, or is his control so great that he'd still hold me in place, unconscious? I'd always respected Isaiah. He'd been a great teacher and a good friend, but today...today there was only fear.

  He sighed and continued. "I used this skill on Kennet when he was my prisoner and felt no remorse. I've used it on others who've betrayed my trust, but always I've understood exactly what I was inflicting not only on them, but also myself. I raped them with my magic and each time I did, I lost a part of myself: a good part. I became less. The same thing will happen to you. Your father's soul is a hole filled only with other creatures' pain and terror. Despite your DNA, I will never allow you to take even one step in that direction."

  There was sorrow in his eyes where before there'd been anger. "Put your right hand flat on the grill."

  As I watched my hand move slowly toward the hot surface, I screamed in silence, my body obeying Isaiah's orders while my mind raged against it. When the first finger touched the surface, my psyche wailed and cursed, feeling every bit of the excruciating pain, yet not able to pull away. When my hand was flat on the grill, I could smell my flesh cooking as sweat poured off of me in streams. I thought I might vomit from the stench, the intense heat drying my tears before they could fall. I began shaking violently.

  "Remove your hand and quickly move away." I took three fast steps, but could do nothing to heal myself, only stand, my hand throbbing with a level of pain I'd never experienced before. If he released me now, I'd pass out.

  "Give me your hand." He took it gently in his and healed the charred and blistered flesh including all but one of the burns left by the grated surface. He relieved me of the worst of the pain, but not all. "Sit on the ground." I did, and that's when he released me from his control. I screamed out loud, over and over, the pent-up horror forcing its way up from my gut and out through my mouth. Finally I leaned over and collapsed face down on the grass, moaning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Fionna arrived, a piece of paper clutched in her hand. "My spies have discovered that your mate has taken Charles to the Demon Realm!" Fionna was enraged, her eyes a solid gold to match her dress. She flicked her hand, and I was instantly chained at the wrist to the wall, the silver of each cuff burning my skin.

  Despite the pain, I smiled with relief. Charlie was safe. My shoulders relaxed for the first time in days, then tensed again when I realized that although Charlie was safe, Jackie was probably not. Stubbornly determined, she could very well be on her way to court right now to negotiate with this vicious witch. Shuddering at the thought, I closed my eyes and prayed that my love had gone against her impulsive nature and was at this moment safely in the DR, a contradiction in terms if ever I heard one. Still, I trusted my family in Isaiah's hands
much more than in Fionna's.

  Fionna was pacing the room, resplendent in a shimmering gown spun of angel hair or perhaps some other fabric just as dazzling. Born with the genes necessary to rule her people, Fionna was too narcissistic to look beyond herself and accept the truth of what she'd done. The court was unhealthy, her dark influence rotting the heart of Faerie. Many of the fae I'd seen had yellowed complexions, their veins bulging under their too-thin bodies. Some were scarred, unable to heal themselves. No chattering demi-fey flew in the hallways or fields, and I had yet to hear the sound of laughter. Some rooms were wrapped in scabrous vines that covered the windows like brown snakes, allowed to choke the life out of other vegetation. There were no flowers or fruit-bearing trees. I sensed only rot and death, helplessness and suffering.

  Although her expression was calm, an edge of panic colored her next words. "I have tried to be reasonable and will afford you one more chance. You will write directly to your mate insisting that she bring your son to court."

  Her fear was honest at least. She had to see what she was doing to Faerie. Did she think that Charlie could bring new life into her world? Was that the reason she wanted him? Or was it solely to protect herself when war broke out?

  "No."

  "I will burn you to ashes." She growled.

  "If you do, you'll be forsworn. You'll be left without your power, and Caelen will take back the crown."

  "I can do what I wish. I am the queen." I'd heard that line before from the mouth of another female, only Eleanor had proclaimed, "I can do what I wish because I am your maker.

  I tried another approach. "Caelen explained to me once that more than anyone else in Faerie, the king or queen must keep faith with The Balance. Your court and your people are weak. They look to you for strength and guidance. Naberia will attack soon. Shouldn't you be preparing them for war?"

  Anger made her features ugly. "Half-bloods and demons cannot defeat my people." She placed a hand on my neck, sending excruciating pain like a stream of razors cutting through muscle and bone. I cried out and she stopped. "You will write to your mate."