by Kallysten
If he was going to fight anyway, he didn’t need to be under the protection of the glamour, did he?
Chapter 20
Blake had finally fallen asleep, and for that much Kate was grateful. She had barely been able to stop him from hurting himself, and without Daniel’s help, she might not have managed to coax Blake back into bed. He seemed to respond to Daniel, for some reason Kate couldn’t quite understand, and it was hard not to feel jealous. She could understand Marc’s pull on Blake, but Daniel’s? The two of them tolerated each other at best, and there was no lost love between them.
Kate leaned against the wall and watched Blake sleep. She felt mentally drained and only hoped that she would be able to help. She had stayed a step back and let Marc take care of Blake for months, trusting that Marc knew what was best for his Childe. But Marc couldn’t help now. Worse: he had caused this latest stumble by disappearing on them. When he returned, Kate was going to kick his ass. She’d kiss him right after that, but she’d kick his ass first. Couldn’t he have waited? They had crossed such an important step together just hours earlier; surely he could have delayed his plan until they were sure that Blake was all right.
She bit her lip as tears rose to her eyes. Blake was certainly not all right. Even while he was sleeping, she could see his distress in his jerks and the quiet, pained noises of his nightmares.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to grab Blake with both hands and shake him hard: shake some sense back into him and shake away the nightmares that trapped his mind. She wanted to draw him into her arms and hold him, rock him, whisper nonsense to him until he came back to her. She wanted to do something—anything—as long as it helped him. But nothing she had tried so far worked, and she was afraid she would only make things worse if she tried to touch him again.
The door, propped open yet again, creaked. Kate motioned for Daniel to wait outside. She didn’t want to wake Blake now. After a last look at the bed, she tiptoed out of the room and let the door close almost all the way before she gave Daniel a questioning look.
“What did they say?”
Daniel passed a hand through his hair and nodded. “They gave me the go ahead. I can take troops to the other side. Volunteers only. They weren’t happy about it, but they agreed that Simon is too important an asset not to go after him.”
“Simon,” Kate repeated tonelessly. “What about Marc?”
Daniel’s gaze drifted to the bedroom door. “I didn’t tell them the whole thing was his idea. They know he’s my Sire. They’re scared of what that means where my loyalty to the squad is concerned.”
“So you lied to them.”
His stare settled back on her, and Kate shivered at the glitter of gold in his eyes. “I didn’t lie,” he said mildly. “I told them Simon left with our prisoner and a soldier. They didn’t ask who, and I didn’t volunteer details. Now, I’ll be talking to the squad and the town’s soldiers in a few minutes, and regardless of the numbers, I want to be ready to leave in an hour. What about you? Are you coming?”
Of course, Kate wanted to respond, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to go, God only knew how much, to get Marc and Simon back, but also because she prided herself on never having let Daniel down in all their years of fighting. Could she go, though? Could she leave Blake alone—abandon him like Marc had? In the state he was in, there was no way she could take him along, but she also couldn’t leave him behind.
“I…I don’t know,” she murmured. “I have to think about it.”
Daniel looked like he understood. He set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “One hour,” he said again. “And don’t worry, even if you can’t come, we’ll get them back.”
Kate nodded, but she still worried.
* * * *
“There, that’s a good boy.”
Blake remained still as the fingers breached him, nails sharp as claws that left trails of blood in their wake. He tried to focus on the feel of the cold stone beneath him rather than the digits invading him in a mocking simulacrum of preparation. Tried to listen to the harsh noise of his breathing rather than that of the syrupy voice above him.
He must have done something good, if his Master was talking to him so nicely for once, and not yelling as he so often did. Blake tried for a moment to remember what, before deciding that maybe it was better if he didn’t know. He had stopped refusing orders, trying to escape, mouthing off, and fighting, plain and simple, and things were sometimes better, since he had.
He still received beatings for no apparent reason, but his Master would usually let him come afterwards. He still wasn’t fed nearly enough, but at least the blood came at regular intervals. And she…she wasn’t brought in to be tortured in front of him as often as she used to be.
“My good boy, aren’t you, Childe?”
He knew better than to say a word, but he forced himself to nod, keeping his eyes shut as he did.
“Liar.”
From syrupy, the voice had turned acidic, and Blake knew he had made a mistake. Didn’t he always?
“Good boys look at their Master. They don’t try to hide behind closed eyelids. You’re a fucking liar, Blake. And liars get punished.”
The fingers retreated abruptly and were immediately and brutally replaced by the full length of his Master rock-hard cock. Whatever blood was already there was far from enough, and Blake bit down on the inside of his cheek at the familiar pain of his body being ripped from the inside out.
A fist curled around the base of Blake’s cock, too tight, too still.
“You’re not coming today, boy,” a grunting voice announced. “You’re not coming for a long time unless you earn it. How are you going to earn it?”
His Master’s thrusting stopped as abruptly as it had started, and Blake tried not to whimper at what was to come. Whatever it was, he had endured worse. He would endure this, too. One day, this punishment would end, and Blake’s Master would be his Sire again, severe but fair.
One day.
Blake was sure of it. He needed to be sure of it.
If that one day never came, what was the point of living?
* * * *
Quiet words drifted through Blake’s mind, as gentle and soothing as the fingers carding through his hair.
“It’s just a bad dream. It can’t hurt you anymore. It’s not real, Blake. You’re here and you’re safe.”
His first instinct was to flinch away from that warm hand. This wasn’t allowed. He couldn’t let Kate touch him for the same reason he couldn’t touch her. He stilled halfway through the motion of rolling away from her, though, and breathed in deep through his nose. Scents jumped at him, filling his mind with warmth and memories.
Kate and him.
Marc and him.
All three of them together.
The sweet scent of Kate’s arousal and pleasure, and Marc’s deeper musk, combined with Blake’s come. All of it, right there on these sheets. That was real. And the rest…
Turning his head toward Kate, he opened his eyes to look at her. She was sitting with her back to the headboard, her legs curled beneath her. Dark circles dulled her eyes. He had rarely seen her look so sad.
“Not dreams,” he said, pushing the words out despite the lingering fear, at the back of his mind, that speaking only led to more punishment.
She blinked, and her lips just missed curling up into a smile. “Nightmares?” she murmured.
Blake wished it had been that simple. Nightmares, he could dismiss as figments of his imagination. He had not imagined this. He had lived it.
He had survived it, he reminded himself, clinging to that small victory.
“Not nightmares either,” he said, his voice rasping like he had shouted too loudly and for too long. “Memories. Bad ones.”
Kate slid down the bed until she was lying on her side next to him, her eyes level with his, only inches separating their faces on the pillow.
“Do you…do you want to talk about it?” she asked, but from he
r tone she already knew Blake’s answer.
He shook his head. Whether he wanted to talk about it or not wasn’t the issue. Kate didn’t need those images in her head. It was bad enough that they were in his.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked next, her voice still quiet as if he were convalescent.
“I’m not banging my head against the wall, so I must be.”
His attempt at humor was met with a stare, and he wiped away that smile that had been so difficult to summon.
“Better,” he repeated, because that was what she wanted to hear. She didn’t need to know that he was clinging to his calm and sanity with every last bit of strength he possessed. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Gone were her careful tone and gentle whispers, replaced by that fierceness he had always loved. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
Blake didn’t reply. No answer he could give would be acceptable in her eyes, and he didn’t want to lie.
“How long did I sleep?” he asked instead, but the real question was, how long has Marc been gone already? Time passed faster in the demon dimension. Minutes here were hours, or even days, there.
“You only slept for half an hour,” Kate said, the words slow as she scrutinized his face.
He wondered what she found. He couldn’t feel anything other than the void in his chest, where Marc’s presence should have been.
“Daniel is putting together a strike team,” she said, more slowly still. “They’re about to leave for the breach to get…to get them back.”
He waited for her to finish, but she didn’t add anything, merely observed him. It was a struggle not to let his fear shine through.
“Are you going?” he barely managed to keep the nausea out of his voice at the idea of Kate in the demon dimension.
“That depends,” she said after a beat. “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
Relief flooded Blake. He brought his hand up and slowly, gently, covered hers with it. She entwined their fingers together and squeezed gently.
“Do you feel good enough to go?”
The question took Blake by surprise. Good enough to go? Couldn’t she see he was only hanging on to the cliff by his fingernails?
The next second he realized that, of course, she didn’t know. Of course she couldn’t see it. He had become very good at hiding his true feelings. This, he had to share, though. He had to tell her that, no, he didn’t want to set foot in the demon dimension, not ever again. Marc would come back to them, he had promised he would, and in the meantime Blake wasn’t going anywhere.
Before he could say anything, though, the phone rang. Kate glared at it but then looked at Blake again with something that resembled hope.
“It has to be Daniel,” she said as she slid out of bed. “Maybe…”
She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t need to. It was all too clear what she hoped. She picked up the phone and listened for only a few seconds before hanging up again. When she turned back to Blake, she was all but beaming.
“It was him. They heard from the outpost by the breach. Some people jumped back through. It took them a while to report because they had to battle the demons that followed, but…” She came closer and sat on the edge of the bed, taking Blake’s hand in hers again. “They’re back,” she whispered. “Marc is back.”
Even though he knew it wasn’t there, Blake took the time to search inside him for that link that ran to his Sire, the bloodline he could clutch to let Marc know he needed him. As before, he found nothing.
“I’m sorry,” he told a still-glowing Kate. “He’s not.”
Chapter 21
Kate paced in the courtyard in front of the hotel until the truck finally arrived. She stilled as it stopped and crossed her arms, hugging herself.
Daniel had confirmed that he also couldn’t feel Marc’s presence—and apologized for leading her to believe Marc was back, even for a few moments. Now he stood at her side, his presence comforting even though he didn’t say a word. She wished Blake were there, too, but he had refused to come.
“Either he’s trapped there or he’s dead,” he had said when she had asked him to accompany her. “I don’t know which is worse. I don’t want to know.”
Now that the answer was near, Kate wasn’t sure she wanted to know, either. Her stomach twisted, and she watched people she didn’t know step out of the back of the truck. Three of them were looking around and trembling like they didn’t know where they were. Medics approached them and led them away. Another medic tried to approach Jen, but she refused his help even though she held her arm stiffly like it was injured. Simon finally jumped out of the truck. He looked exhausted, and blood stained his cheek. He walked at Jen’s side, and the two of them came toward Kate and Daniel.
“Where is he?” Kate asked, unable to restrain herself any longer. She hated how much her voice shook on those three words, but at least—small mercies—she wasn’t crying. Dead or trapped… Kate didn’t want to hear either option.
Simon looked down at the magic bag he was holding in front of him. Jen gave him a look, rolled her eyes, and said, “The demons captured him.”
Kate’s instincts took over, and she reacted without thinking. Her fist flew, and before she even knew what she was doing, it was smashing into Jen’s face with every bit of strength Kate possessed. Jen fell back flat on her ass, looking up at Kate with clear surprise as she touched her face gingerly.
“You bitch!” she spat. “You broke my nose!”
“You’re lucky I didn’t stake you,” Kate’s voice cracked like ice. “I haven’t ruled it out yet, so shut the hell up.” When she turned back to Simon, he took a step back, maybe expecting the same treatment.
“Is she telling the truth?” she asked.
Simon gulped noisily. “I… Yes. I’m sorry, it was all so—”
“You know what they do to their prisoners and you left him there?”
The last words were all but a shriek. Daniel rested his hand on her arm. Jen, who had pushed herself back to her feet, looked ready to fend off a new attack.
“He told us to go,” Simon protested. “He said he’d be right behind us, covering us, so we took the prisoners to the breach, and when I looked back…he wasn’t there anymore.”
Kate felt like the world was falling to pieces around her. She had gone through this when Blake had disappeared through that breach. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through the same thing with Marc. Would he be tortured like Blake had been? Or executed, maybe? No, he wouldn’t let himself be caught, he would force them to kill him, and take as many demons with him as he could.
Or at least, he would try. Blake hadn’t been able to do as much himself. Could Marc?
Daniel’s hand was still on her arm, but despite the support he offered, she could feel herself wavering. She started to turn away, wanting to go back inside and find a place to sit, but through the curtain of tears that blurred her vision, a shape appeared. Blake opened his arms to her, and she stepped in his embrace with as much relief as love.
“We have to get him back.” Her words were muffled against his chest.
She remembered saying the same thing to Marc, what felt like so long ago. It had taken months, almost two years—entire centuries—before Blake had returned to them. They couldn’t let the same thing happen to Marc.
“We will.” Blake pressed a kiss to the top of her head like a promise. “We’ll get him. We’ll bring him back.”
Kate clung to him a little tighter, glad beyond words that he could be there with her, for her and for Marc.
She only hoped he wouldn’t stumble again now.
* * * *
Blake didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t even sure he would be able to get through with it. He had to, though. Kate needed him. Marc needed him. Everything else was secondary, including the fear that was rising inside him like a tide at the thought of going through a breach again.
&nbs
p; “We’ll bring him back,” he said again, as much to reassure Kate as to convince himself.
When he looked up again, he felt a jolt at how many gazes were focused on them. Simon’s eyes were full of tears. Daniel’s were flat, almost lifeless. And Jen’s…
He clenched his teeth when he looked at her. The blood had stopped trickling from her nose, but it still stained her upper lip. Had he had a stake, she would have been dust already. She had already taken Marc from him once. She had tried to take Kate away, too, in the City. And now…
“This is your fault,” he practically growled. “If anything happens to him—”
“He’s a grown up,” she interrupted him. “He made up his own mind to go there. It was his decision to get out from under the glamour to fight, his decision to risk freeing prisoners.” She paused and hesitated, glancing at Simon before she began again. “And no one made him touch that orb thing. Actually, I told him not to touch it.”
Kate turned in Blake’s embrace, although he held her tightly to his chest and didn’t let go. She asked the question before Blake could.
“What orb?”
After another hesitant look at Simon, Jen answered. “Demons use them when they do magic. Marc touched one of them and…something happened. I don’t know—”
“He said… He said he saw what happened,” Simon cut in. “What happened to you, I mean. When you were in that prison.” Simon looked at Blake apologetically. “It sounded like…like he remembered doing it.”
Blake’s arms tightened around Kate. She covered his hands with hers and squeezed gently, lending him back some of the strength he had given her.
For months, Blake had tried to protect both of them from the demons—figurative and literal—that lurked in his head. He didn’t want them to know how bad it was and wake up from the same nightmares. It was bad enough that he remembered; they didn’t need to.