She couldn’t heal him completely, but she could speed the process. A sense of well-being spread through him, like sunbathing on a river bank after a hard swim.
When she released him, he fingered the bump on his head in wonder. It had shrunk to half its former size and the pain had faded to a dull ache. He moved a hand to his ribs. They felt as if they’d had a week to heal.
He caught Cleia’s hand. “Thank you.”
The sun was behind her, making a halo of her multicolored hair. She inclined her head, her smile kind. She appeared beautiful yet remote—like the sunrise or a far-off star.
Then she glanced at Dion, still gazing out at the harbor, hands behind his back. He turned around. Their eyes met and her smile broadened. Tiago could almost feel the electricity arcing between them.
And in that moment, Tiago knew he’d never have her. She was his brother’s, body and soul.
He released her hand and looked away. Deus, he was an ass. Because even though he’d known the mate bond was rare and special—fae and fada seldom mated twice, even if one of the pair died young—he’d stubbornly held out hope.
“You all right?” His brother’s gruff voice broke into his thoughts.
He came to his feet. “Yeah.” His body, anyway.
“Bom. Now what the fuck happened in that rowhouse? And I want the whole story this time.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“The whole story?” Tiago repeated.
Like all fada—water or earth—he could trace his lineage back to the god Dionysus himself. The fada had been born in the god’s wine-soaked bacchanals, and the ancient lusts called to them like a siren’s song, dark, enticing, the god’s blood a seductive midnight ribbon weaving through the braid of fae, human and animal genes.
Tiago didn’t attribute his beast to his animal heritage. He placed the blame for it squarely at the god’s door: Dionysus, born from the seed of a god and a human. Dionysus and his reckless, raw carnality. Dionysus and his tart purple grapes and rich red wine and wild orgies that lasted until the participants slumped to the ground unconscious.
From Dionysus had come the god’s touch, a black beast of a power that was tempting, so goddamn tempting—
“Yes,” Dion replied. “I know damn well there’s more than what you told Adric. I want the truth, Tiago. The whole truth.”
Tiago squeezed his nape. The truth was he could kill a man with a thought.
But how did you tell your brother that? And not just your brother—the man who’d raised you from the time you were a pup.
Dion and Cleia scrutinized him: his brother with growing impatience, the sun fae queen thoughtfully.
“Well?” Dion demanded.
Cleia took a seat. “Whatever you say won’t leave this room. I promise you that.”
The first he’d known of his second Gift had been three years ago. He’d been on a mission, his first as a fully invested Rock Run warrior. He and a squad of four other men had been sent to Mexico to wipe out a nest of rogue night fae who were kidnapping and torturing the local sea fada.
Tiago had cornered the last, most vicious night fae. The man had fought hard and dirty—trying to generate enough negative emotion in Tiago to incapacitate him—but Tiago was ready for that. He fought back, cold and merciless. When the night fae saw he’d lost, he’d muttered a spell to ’port out of there.
Something raw and very primitive awoke in Tiago: the beast, enraged that the prey was escaping.
Tiago narrowed his eyes and ordered the man to freeze—and the night fae had, to his astonishment.
Tiago had moved in and slit the man’s throat—a quick, clean death. The other man had never moved. It had been easy, like shooting fish in a barrel.
Too damn easy.
Shaken, Tiago stared down at the dead man as the beast, coldly satisfied, settled back into whatever shadowy corner in Tiago’s soul he called home.
The squad leader ran up and clapped him on the back. “Good job, do Rio.”
“Thanks,” Tiago replied automatically. Numbly, he helped the others clean up, knowing he could tell no one, not even Dion. Especially not Dion.
This was more than the animal that was a part of all fada. This was dark. A beast.
If word got out, he’d be an instant outsider, feared and likely shunned. The fada knew what his Gift did to a man—and it was nearly always men who inherited it. He might start out with good intentions, but a fada male was a hard, ruthless creature to begin with. The temptation to use such a Gift was damn near irresistible.
After experimenting enough to understand how the Gift worked, Tiago had decided not to use it again unless absolutely necessary. For the most part, he’d kept to that decision, using compulsion only when his safety or that of the clan was threatened. But each time he called on it, he lost another piece of his soul to the primitive black beast.
He was terrified that sooner or later he’d break and use his Gift for less honorable purposes.
Just because he could.
Dion was speaking. “May I remind you,” he said, “that I’m not just your brother, I’m your alpha. And I want to know what in Hades is going on. You’re a strong, promising fighter, but there’s no way you can take on four grown fada and win.”
“No?” Something snapped in Tiago. He was tired of hiding what he was. He was tired of his brother treating him as if he were still wet behind the ears. He was tired, period. “Fine,” he snarled. “You want to know how I killed Benny? Come here. Now.”
He let the beast rise, bent their combined will on his brother.
Dion’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He cursed and gritted his teeth, resisting with everything he had. His chest heaved, the powerful muscles straining against his shirt. A button popped off and flew across the room.
Cleia gasped and came partway to her feet, hands on the chair’s armrests. “Stop it, Tiago. Now.”
“He asked,” Tiago replied, his gaze locked on his brother. He beckoned with his fingers. “Come, irmão. To me.”
Dion growled low in his throat. “No, damn you.”
A blood vessel beat in his temple. His face was beaded with sweat. A part of Tiago couldn’t help being impressed at his brother’s strength of will.
Dion almost succeeded in throwing off the compulsion. Then his foot slid forward.
One step. Then another and another.
Tiago was dimly aware that Cleia had come to her feet and was muttering to herself. Energy crackled at the tips of her fingers. He knew she could knock him out—or for that matter, stop his heart for good—but he didn’t care. She raised her hands and he tensed, but for some reason she held her fire.
Dion glared at Tiago, his eyes the icy, feral silver of his animal. He had a Gift for drawing on energy himself, but he was using everything he had to resist the compulsion. “Let. Me. Go.”
Tiago held him for another heartbeat. Then he flicked his fingers and released the compulsion.
Dion’s breath whooshed out. For a long moment the two of them stared at each other. Then Dion had Tiago by the throat.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he gritted. “Not unless you’re prepared to challenge me for alpha.” He gave Tiago a shake. “Understand?”
Tiago kept his eyes down, acknowledging his brother’s dominance. For now. He forced himself to reply calmly. “Yes. But you asked.”
“Deus.” Dion thrust Tiago from him. He paced away, then back. “How long have you known?”
“Three years.”
“Three fucking years? When were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know. I—” Tiago sank into a chair, head in his hands. All Cleia’s energy had gone into healing his body, and after the night he’d had, a confrontation with his alpha was the last thing he needed. He felt weary to his very bones. “I’m not sure I was ever going to tell you.”
“Does it work on anyone?” asked Cleia. “The fae, for instance?”
Tiago nodded. “I’ve used it on both fae and fada, although n
ever anyone from Rock Run. Mainly I used it when I was out on a mission. And animals—that’s how I learned to control it.”
“Three years.” His brother scrutinized him. “And you’ve controlled it all that time.”
“Yes.”
He flashed to that acorn on Alesia’s island. He’d been closer to losing control that morning than he’d ever been. A seemingly small thing, to force it to grow. It hadn’t even been a seedling, merely the possibility of one. But his stomach twisted, remembering. The acorn had been pure potential, innocence at its most basic—and he’d destroyed it.
He was turning into a monster.
“You’ve never used it on anyone in the clan?” Dion asked.
His head snapped up. “No. I swear I haven’t.”
Dion inhaled, no doubt testing his words for truth, then nodded. “You can use it to kill? That’s how Benny died?”
“Yes. I don’t remember everything that happened, but I ordered him to die—and he did. And there was a night fae that time my squad was in Mexico. I told him to halt and he froze. That’s when I slit his throat.”
“Suppose,” said Dion, almost to himself, “that you could control it. What a warrior you’d—”
“No,” Tiago interrupted. “You still don’t understand.”
“Dion,” Cleia murmured.
He glanced at her, then jerked his chin at Tiago. “So tell me. Help me understand.”
“This isn’t something I can turn on and off like a fucking switch. It’s like a dark beast, chewing on my soul. Every time I give in to it, every time I use it, it takes another piece of me. That’s the kind of weapon it is. One that eats the user from the inside out—and grows stronger each time.” Tiago scrubbed his hands over his face. “Hell, I can barely keep it in check now. If I call on it regularly, invite it out, God knows what’ll happen.”
His brother’s expression held a mix of pity and compassion. “I’m sorry, irmão.”
The last thing Tiago had expected was pity. It seared him to the bone, especially coming from the man he most wanted to impress.
He rose abruptly to his feet, afraid that if he remained here much longer, he’d do something he’d regret, like challenge his own brother for dominance. “Look,” he said, “I feel like frigging shit warmed over. I need to get into the water. I’ll see you back at the base in a day or two. Okay?”
Dion nodded. “All right. You have twenty-four hours, but only because you’ll heal more quickly as your animal. You’re to report to me by noon tomorrow. Is that clear? There’s still the matter of your disobeying orders.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Tiago.” Cleia rose from the chair, hands outstretched. “Please—”
He swung around to face her. Something in his face made her recoil.
He smiled grimly. “Yes,” he said. “You, at least, understand.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Adric half-led, half-carried Marjani through the blighted neighborhood he called home. There were plenty of good people here, but they mostly stayed inside where it was safe. They passed a couple of mothers with children, but also a pimp snarling at one of his girls and a well-dressed man strung-out from heroin and slumped on a cracked marble stoop.
Adric and Marjani were safe enough. For one thing, Zuri was with them. He was a frankly beautiful man, but he was also large and intimidating—and right now his good-looking face was set in cold, hard lines. But even the most broken, feral human wasn’t stupid enough to mess with Adric, and his underground den was concealed from the magical world by a fae ward.
They picked their way around two plump rats gleefully rooting through a trash bag. Marjani stumbled over a break in the sidewalk and sagged against him. He could feel the rapid flutter of her heart, hear her short, shallow breaths. She was going into shock.
Rage sucked the air from his lungs. His cougar rose up and nearly took control. But even the animal knew that would just make things worse. It subsided to pace agitatedly beneath Adric’s skin.
The hell with this. He swung his sister into his arms. “Hang on, Jani. We’re almost there.”
“I’m sorry, Ric.” A tear slid down her bruised cheek. “I—”
“For God’s sake, kitten, nobody blames you.” He nuzzled her neck like when they were cubs, and was rewarded by her slight smile. Even better, the wild beating of her heart slowed, grew less erratic.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Luc had called Suha, their chief healer, from the hotel, and left to pick her up. Beau had taken the rest of them to a place a few blocks from his den—its actual location was on a need-know-basis only—and then he, Zuri and Marjani had gone on alone.
They reached the run-down house that hid his den’s entrance. Adric rented the house to a couple of baby-faced drug dealers—more camouflage. Luc and Suha were waiting in the backyard next to the basement entrance that led to his den.
He set Marjani down and, keeping an arm around her, greeted Suha and Luc. “Where’s Jace?” Jace Jones was his fourth lieutenant and the other member of his inner circle along with Marjani, Zuri and Luc.
“He was on the east side near the rowhouse where they took Marjani,” Luc said. “He’s going to start at the house and then check along the waterfront, see if he can sniff out the bastards.”
Adric nodded. It was the logical place to start looking—water fada didn’t like to get too far from their rivers and oceans. He intended to keep his word to Dion, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do some investigating on his own.
Turning his attention back to his sister, he muttered the words that removed the ward guarding the entrance. No one but Marjani could enter without his express permission.
Marjani started gamely down the steps, but he could feel her trembling. With a muttered curse, he swept her back into his arms and carried her down the two flights of stairs, Suha and the two men close behind.
As they entered the living room, they set off motion detectors that triggered the quartz wall sconces. The sconces glowed on, casting a soft amber light over his few pieces of furniture—a second-hand couch, a coffee table liberated from a dumpster and the plush rug that was his one luxury because his cat had wanted it. He’d furnished the apartment five years ago when the clan was living hand-to-mouth. They were doing well enough now that he could’ve bought some new furniture, but frankly, he couldn’t be bothered. And it sent a message that as alpha, he wasn’t enriching himself at the clan’s expense like his uncle had.
Suha came up beside them to take Marjani’s hand. “How are you, honey?” she asked in her low, tranquil voice. Her animal was a deer, and she had a doe’s liquid brown eyes and soothing presence.
Marjani gave Suha a wobbly smile. “All right, I guess.” That was his sister. The woman wouldn’t admit she was hurting if she were sprawled on the floor bleeding out.
“Let’s get you into bed and then I’ll see what I can do.”
Adric led the way to his sister’s old bedroom. She’d lived with him during his first, rough years as alpha, but two years ago she’d insisted on moving to her own place, saying she needed to get away from the politics always swirling around him. He’d agreed, but only because she’d moved into a group den with several of her girlfriends and a couple of his toughest males, including Luc.
So he hadn’t even known she was missing until he’d arrived at the meeting to find she wasn’t there. He’d immediately sent word to Luc, told Zuri he was acting as second and then done his best not to worry. The quartz deal was too important to let himself be distracted. The rich lode beneath the Rising Sun fae’s lands would keep the clan supplied for the next century.
An earth fada’s personal quartz was special, a high-grade crystal keyed to their own particular energy pattern, a unique vibration that fed both owner and quartz. But in the peace that had followed the Darktime, some of his young, hungry and tech-savvy clan members had developed ways to engineer all sorts of
electronic toys from quartz—smartphones, surveillance hardware, even weapons.
The beauty of quartz was that it was waterproof and damn near indestructible. Unfortunately, though, the technology burned through energy at a rapid rate. They’d figured out how to get the energy from low-grade quartz, but at the rate they were going through their own supplies, they’d soon run out. They desperately needed the large new supply the clan’s miners had located on the border of Rising Sun.
Now he looked down at his sister’s wan, bruised face and swallowed against a dark wash of guilt. What did all the fucking quartz in the world mean against her safety?
She was his only family, the kid sister who’d given him a reason to keep going after their parents had been brutally executed by their dad’s own brother, an alpha bent on wiping out all opposition. He should’ve called off the meeting immediately to go looking for her.
He set Marjani on her feet next to the bed. The walls were still a warm yellow from when Marjani had lived here but the mattress was bare save for a pair of thread-bare pillows. Adric scowled, but hell, he was an unmated male. If he had a woman over, she damn well didn’t sleep in the spare room.
Marjani sank down onto the bed, her expression stoic, but she couldn’t conceal a flinch as her bottom touched the mattress. She was hurt in the worst sort of way a man could hurt a woman.
The anger he’d felt up to this point was nothing to the killing fury that raged in him now. He automatically brought his hand to his chest, seeking his quartz to calm himself, but he’d given it to Marjani. He closed the hand into a fist and started barking orders.
“Get the sheets,” he told Zuri, pointing to a cedar chest at the end of the hall. “And you,” he told Luc, “get her a glass of water or juice. Something.”
They weren’t simply his top lieutenants, they were two of his oldest friends. Normally he’d never speak to them like that. But they didn’t take offense, just hurried to obey.
“And a couple of blankets,” added Suha. “We need to keep her warm.”
Marjani tugged at her tunic. “I want to get out of these clothes.”
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