Divided

by Rae Brooks

  The knife rested against his cheek again—the one opposite of where it had been before. Then, with a smirk, Tareth brought the blade down to Taeru’s abdomen. The laceration moved over Taeru’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone, and then to the center of his abdomen—near his waist. The pain felt secondary to the agonizing realization that he was condemned to exactly what Tareth wanted to do. “Are you going to listen to the deal or not?”

  Not giving Tareth the satisfaction of a nod, Taeru glared up into that cruel expression. If Taeru had to be vulnerable, then he would not be submissive. Calis’s words came back to him, sending a wave of uncompromising anguish through his system.

  “You’re the same way, though, with the people of Dark District. You let them do whatever they want with you.”

  So, Calis had been worried that Taeru would submit to someone unwillingly—well, Taeru was about to prove that theory emphatically wrong. His teeth snapped together, and despite the tears that Calis’s memory brought, he glared defiantly into Tareth’s eyes. “Beg me—beg me for mercy,” Tareth’s voice was a knife in Taeru’s chest. The words drove the wind out of him, and he narrowed his eyes. He would not, under any circumstance, beg Tareth for anything. “If you do that, then I will be gentle—well, quick, at least.”

  One of Taeru’s eyes twitched in response, but he kept his body from flinching at the implication. His lips trembled, but he shook his head vehemently. Tareth just chuckled after a few moments, and a hard impact was the response Taeru received. “I think I can change your mind,” Tareth whispered. Slowly, Tareth lowered his lips to Taeru’s blood-soaked neck.

  The slipperiness of the man’s tongue against Taeru’s skin made him nauseous. He tried to turn his head away, but the motion only exposed his neck further. A biting sensation send a trigger of ache through his neck, into his mind. The ache intensified, slowly, steadily, until Taeru cried out beneath his gag. It built, his fingers clenched as best they could in their broken state, and the pain matured until there was a strange release—with it, he could feel the fresh flow of blood along his neck.

  Panting, Taeru tried to jerk his head away again, but Tareth caught his chin once more. The lips moved to Taeru’s cheek, kissing it sharply, and then the teeth were at Taeru’s ear—biting. Taeru whimpered, and his body convulsed in answer to the bite. “You’ll break,” Tareth assured him. Then, moving backwards, Tareth lifted his body from Taeru’s. Given the opportunity, Taeru thrashed as much as he could, fighting against the restraints. The struggling was for naught as momentarily his energy betrayed him, and he collapsed, panting beneath the gag.

  “All my life,” Tareth was saying from some remote location in the room. “Calis has stolen things from me. He has been there to grasp it before I am capable to take it for myself. He is the older brother—so I suppose it is to be expected.” Taeru didn’t know why Tareth would be talking about Calis—and he sounded angry.

  Shouldn’t Tareth be happy with Calis if his brother had given him the information? Taeru’s heart hammered inside of him, and his stomach clenched in anticipation. He didn’t want this—oh, he didn’t want this. Moving his head, he was able to get a partial view of Tareth. The man was collecting a few objects off a shelf, and then he began towards one of the stands near the corner of the room.

  “But, I never could let it go. I just got so sick of seeing everything I ever wanted in his hands—and yet he consistently squandered it, he pretended as though it meant nothing. He had everything I ever wanted, and he didn’t even want it.” Taeru wasn’t sure if Tareth was speaking to himself, or if he was trying to frighten Taeru.

  Again, Taeru tried to force his body to fight against the bindings, and again, his body refused to obey his commands. Tareth seemed to have everything he needed, and his eyes glittered back over to Taeru with malice. “And now, now it’s my turn…” His words were acidic—and Taeru’s body shuddered involuntarily. “If he could see you now…” Tareth laughed.

  The words made little sense. After all, if Calis had freely given the information, then he certainly wouldn’t care about Taeru’s condition. Unless, of course, Calis was unaware that Tareth was a maniac. Perhaps Calis hadn’t foreseen it going this far, and perhaps he wouldn’t approve if he knew. In spite of the circumstance, the thought sent an upsurge of contentment through Taeru. “Thinking about him?” Tareth asked. “Don’t bother.”

  Am I that bloody easy to read? Even by this Neanderthal?

  Taeru squirmed at the accusation, and his gag kept him from confirming or denying it. In another motion, Tareth had slid his own pants onto the floor. Taeru’s stomach twisted as he glared away from the sight of the man currently controlling him. Then, Tareth moved his newly acquired items to rest beside Taeru’s head. And there it was again, the purple flower—Prisoner’s Bane. Not again—please, not that again.

  Next to the flower was a short whip, or perhaps a better description would be a springy rod. The thing was black, short, with a handle and an end obviously meant for hitting. Taeru looked warily away from both of the items, and his lips quivered as he saw them even after he had. “Before we start, I know I could make you submit to me—I could make you beg, beg me for this, beg me not to do this—I could even make you my own personal slave. All I’d have to do was threaten your family. But, for now, let’s check your resilience.” Tareth’s voice was much more cheerful now.

  As badly as Taeru wanted to refute the claim, he knew he couldn’t. Tareth’s words were an absolute truth. Taeru would have done anything to keep his family, real or foster, safe from anything Tareth wanted. At least this way, though, Taeru could show Tareth that he wouldn’t be broken—not truly. Raising his eyebrows, Tareth lowered his mouth so that it hovered just over Taeru’s. “You’re afraid of me. You can’t hide it.” Taeru winced, and at the same time that a stinging cut along Taeru’s abdomen, Tareth removed the gag and pressed his lips to Taeru’s. Taeru’s eyes widened, and he writhed as much as he was able.

  Tareth’s lips were hard, demanding—and the memory of Calis’s drummed against Taeru’s mind like a broken cadence. Again and again, Taeru tried to pull his head away from the lips that covered his, but again and again, he failed. Inevitably, Tareth’s serpent of a tongue wrenched Taeru’s lips apart, nearly choking him with the sudden entry. Tareth’s tongue was thick, forceful, and Taeru heaved against the sensation. The feeling was revolting, and Taeru begged the table beneath him to swallow him whole. The involuntary kiss was made worse by persistent recollections of Calis enveloping Taeru, soothing and terrorizing him.

  It meant nothing. Stop, stop doing this. Please…

  Taeru had known that what he had with Calis was a fling, and yet he couldn’t remove it from his mind. When Tareth pulled back, Taeru spit into his face. “Your brother even kisses better than you.” The anger within him personified itself through his words. He might as well make use of the excruciating memories.

  Tareth’s anger appeared, and it was tenfold Taeru’s. With a jerk of the younger Tsrali’s hand, Taeru’s head was forced to the side. Already formed bruises pulsed and worsened, while a new one promised itself. Chuckling, Tareth moved a hand down to the rod-like whip, lifting it and catching Taeru across the cheek—his head was jarred in the other direction. “How spirited you are,” Tareth mused. Again, the rod came across his cheek and forced his head in the opposite direction.

  Gasping for air, Taeru wrestled with the pain that built in his jaw and cheeks from the blows. He ought to speak—say something to Tareth, but all he could do was pull in air. “I figured you might be, though, so here…” Tareth held up a glinting object, it was small, with edges sharpened and jagged. The front was reflecting—a piece of a mirror—but the back had the same jagged quality as the edges. With another forceful kiss, Tareth bit down hard enough to split Taeru’s lip.

  As Taeru cried out, Tareth thrust the piece of mirror into his mouth. At once, Taeru tried to spit it out, though even that action tore at the inside of his mouth. Tareth yanked the gag ba
ck upwards, trapping the dangerous object inside Taeru’s mouth. When Taeru’s eyes widened in panic, Tareth smirked. “Try not to swallow.”

  In a quick motion, Tareth eased his body to straddle Taeru again. This time, Taeru felt Tareth’s erection against his thigh. He whimpered in disgust, but the motion in his mouth caused another cut along the roof. Unexpected tears formed in his eyes, and he worked to keep his tongue and body still. “You’re going to have to be good and not make too much fuss while I do this,” Tareth said, “or you could make it easy on yourself—and beg.”

  Narrowing his eyes was the only response Taeru gave, as shaking his head may have caused further damage to his mouth. Again, Tareth just laughed, and then his attention moved to the lower part of Taeru’s body. Abruptly, he grasped Taeru’s cock in his palm and squeezed. Taeru’s body seized at once, shock and pain taking control. Again, his mouth was damaged, but his focus was on the part of his body in Tareth’s hand. Once his body had begun to try and relax, despite the grip, Tareth squeezed again—forcefully. Again, Taeru reacted, and his body twisted disobediently.

  “You’re like a cornered animal. There isn’t anything you can do to stop me, and it’s killing you.” To Taeru’s relief, Tareth released, but then he grabbed the knife again. Unthinkingly, Taeru cried out—desperate to stop this. Blood oozed in his mouth, pooling at the base of it. “You aren’t very good at this silence thing, are you?” Tareth asked, cocking his head.

  Slowly, too slowly, the knife found the inside of Taeru’s thigh—the right one—the wound started near his knee and worked slowly upwards towards the apex, Tareth cut an unforgiving line along the sensitive skin. Taeru twisted and mewled, trying desperately to silence and still himself. To no avail, though, and as Tareth started on his other thigh, Taeru’s body betrayed him further. Panting, breathing, everything seemed to cause the tiny cuts in his mouth. “Stop moving, little Phantom,” Tareth said. Then, though, the knife vanished.

  Without further theatrics, Tareth moved the same knife to cut a deep, steady swirl into Taeru’s abdomen. The process was deliberate and unbearably slow. Pain synapsed through him, causing his body to twitch without warning. When the large swirl was complete, Tareth trailed the knife up one side of Taeru’s torso and then the other. The prisoner’s bane, Taeru’s mind reminded him. The cuts moved all the way up to Taeru’s jawline. Insatiable misery wracked his body.

  “I’m sure you remember this flora,” Tareth said. “I’ve got insects—I can push you until your body is so out of your control that you’d obey any command I gave you.” The thought was sickening, but Taeru clung to the fact that he’d passed out long before he’d lost control before.

  Easily, Tareth placed the purple plant against Taeru’s abdomen, and the familiar prickle was followed by the mind-splitting agony. The roots extended, twisting about his neck and issuing commands of pain that forced him to whimper. The double-edged sword of the piece in his mouth and the roots along his body felt overwhelming. Perhaps he couldn’t do this, after all. Eventually, though, his mind adjusted, absorbing the pain as a necessary side-effect to keeping his tongue.

  “Beg me,” Tareth instructed unemotionally. Taeru’s jaw clenched at the command, and despite the sweat and blood along his body, he made his refusal apparent. With another laugh, Tareth struck the rod across Taeru’s cheek and inevitably, the tearing, ripping sensation shot up Taeru’s torso. “Beg,” Tareth said again. Taeru glared through the pain, and without fail, it worsened.

  The process repeated, with Tareth’s single command being followed by additional pain. Taeru could feel his own torso being torn apart. He felt as though he was being ripped in half. Now, rather than being isolated to an arm or leg, the pain spread throughout his entire form. His neck seemed to be destroying itself, cutting off his breathing. His mind clouded, trying desperately to focus on the singular reminder not to listen to Tareth. Those gray eyes continued watching him, with subdued interest, and that single command rang out in his ears every time—signaling more pain.

  The cut of the rod against his cheek became a background to the eternal torture running through Taeru’s upper body. Just beg him, some part of Taeru’s mind pleaded. This couldn’t continue. Though, when the command came from Tareth’s mouth, Taeru accepted the rod and the additional pain without hesitation. He could hear a keening somewhere in the distance, knowing vaguely that he was the one making the sound. Stop, stop, stop. Don’t listen—don’t listen—don’t let him do this. Don’t, please, don’t. Stop. Stop now. Stop. Stop this. Don’t submit. You’re better than this. Give him this, and you have nothing.

  Longer and longer, more and more—until finally, there was a break in the process. Tareth leaned forward, and there was a grip against Taeru’s cheek. The hands were slick, losing their grip and then regaining it. “You’re mad!” Tareth choked. “Look at this. Do you see this?” Tareth’s hand was in front of him, and it had turned magically red. No—no, that was blood. Red, red, red. Everywhere. “You are going to bleed to death. I doubt you even have a tongue anymore,” Tareth snapped.

  Taeru blinked. He’d forgotten the mirror shard in his determination to remain unconquered. Now that he realized, he could feel the stinging all inside his mouth. Imbecile… Red, red, red everywhere. It glinted and gleamed off of Tareth’s hand and from his neck. From his neck? Taeru’s blood ought not be on Tareth’s neck.

  No, it wasn’t. The red that he saw there was encased in gold—a beautiful amulet, centered with a ruby. Taeru felt like the ruby should hold significance to him, despite his waning consciousness. The idea of Calis’s arms around him was sickening him—making him long for things he could never have. Calis—the amulet. The amulet around Tareth’s neck was a ruby, just like the one Calis had described. What had he said?

  “The ruby is a trigger.”

  A trigger. He had said that the ruby was a trigger, but Taeru wasn’t sure how that was relevant. His mind was so clouded and disoriented that he didn’t know. Calis, Calis, Calis. What did you say?

  “Now, you’re going to beg me… and I’m going to turn you over and fuck you. That is how this is going to work, you mad, little fool.” Tareth’s voice echoed from somewhere in the distance. Fuck me? Please, don’t… Calis… Calis, help me…

  “If pressed and pulled down just slightly, the golden chain will release, and his neck will feel like it is being bitten by several tiny insects.”

  Insects. Taeru didn’t want any more insects. But no—these would be good insects. He forced his mind to realize what this meant. Calis had told him of a rigged amulet that he’d given his brother—incase Taeru had ever been cornered. Well, he was the epitome of cornered, now. He had no way of knowing if Calis had only done this as a test—perhaps the amulet would kill Taeru instead. But there was no harm in trying, as Taeru’s situation could not get worse. And still, in spite of himself, he trusted Calis to some degree. He had to do something. This was all he could do.

  “Now—will you beg me?” Tareth asked unkindly.

  Slowly, trying to mind the mirror shard in his mouth, Taeru nodded his head. He would be able to reach the amulet only when Tareth bent and removed the gag. He had to do it, then, or this would be in vain. With a twisted grin, Tareth moved down, taking the gag from Taeru’s mouth.

  Pushing the mirror shard forward first with his tongue, Taeru spat it out, lunging forward and grabbing the amulet with his teeth. The bite was jarring, and his teeth clattered against the precious stone. No, no… work, please… work.

  Pull it down! Some voice in the back of his head reminded him.

  Tareth jerked back, Taeru kept the hold with his teeth, and he felt the ruby move just slightly in its socket. There was an odd clicking sound.

  Calis… I don’t want to die.

  “Even the strongest and well-intended of heroes made mistakes, Aleia and the Hero each understood this.”

  -A Hero’s Peace v.ii

  Chapter l

  Lee Keiichi

  The ear-piercin
g scream reached Lee and jolted him from his position against the wall. A scream so shocked and agonized that his mind was chilled just hearing it. His body pulled itself up, instinctively wanting to assist whoever had screamed. Then, there was the horrifying revelation of where it had come from—the scream. Lee had been stationed in the dungeons, knowing that Taeru’s pain would be his own fault—yet he had been unable to find where Tareth had taken Taeru. And now with Juliet and the boy… The least he could do was to be nearby in case there was anything that he could do.

  The scream seemed to be the realization of all his fears, only—he was fairly certain Taeru hadn’t made the sound. The noise was too hard, too filled with anger to be Taeru’s. Hope swelled through Lee’s system as he moved down the hall towards the sound, he was joined by four other men. He ran, panicked, and the scream sounded again, bringing him closer to it. The hallway twisted, but when Lee finally reached the sound—he stopped. There was no door. The other men kept going, and two of them glanced back at him in confusion.

  Glaring towards the wall, Lee frowned, and only then did he see the crease in the wall. A secret room? Snarling, Lee slammed his shoulder forward and the door shifted. He used the rest of his strength to slide it backwards and sprinted down the stairs. He could hear the men following behind him. When he reached the bottom of the short, twisted stairwell, the sight stole his breath. A room filled with gadgets for torture and cells in the back filled with people who hadn’t seen the light of sun in what could have been years.

  Gasping, Lee’s eyes finally turned as another screamed pierced the air. There he was—Tareth, staggering backwards, and reaching around for a weapon. “Tareth!” Lee snapped. He was keeping slaves—slaves! And he was… naked. No, he wasn’t naked—he had on a shirt, but below his waist was exposed.