Rage to Adore

by Cara Lake

  He tried to turn. He battled the suppression spells, struggling to change. All in vain. He roared in frustration, the chains wrapped around him vibrating as cells deep within tried to fracture. His body shook with rage. He could feel the dampening spells snuffing out the sparks of fire within, Phenex’s warloki doing their job too well. The spells kicked in full force and once again Jaro was left writhing on the floor in agony.

  * * * * *

  Lorcan raved. He paced his apartments. Sitri sat listening with calm patience as grievance after grievance fell from his lips. He had managed to storm at her for nearly an hour and showed no signs of stopping. It was understandable, the whole thing was shocking but Sitri had never been one to let a curve ball cause her defeat. She had never been beaten yet. Although all her current plans had not yet come to fruition she had an endgame. Lorcan knew what it was but he was beginning to be a liability, with a lack of restraint she often had trouble leashing. And she had thought he was the easy one.

  “How can he be a barghesti, Mother? Did you know about this?” He hurled the question at her, his gray eyes accusing. The venom in his voice that of a wounded animal. She shook her head. That juicy revelation had been a complete shock. Maybe if she had known, she would have made a different choice a hundred years ago. A small stab of guilt pricked her conscience for past actions that she had pushed back into the darkest recesses of her mind. She shook it off. There was no point dwelling on it. What’s done is done. Nothing would stop her pursuing her goals, not even this. “Calm yourself, Lorcan. Lack of control will not help the situation. The slave is now tied more tightly to Phenex than ever. He can’t last much longer.”

  Lorcan pouted. He knew he was exposing his jealousy even though he had no cause for it. He had always been her favorite. He knew that. Sighing, he turned back to her with some measure of control. “Do you know what to do about this? How can we—”

  “Are you my son or not?” Her interruption brooked no argument but even so the question hurt because she had no cause to doubt him. He had done everything she had ever asked of him and more. “You know I am,” he said.

  “Then you know what I do is for the best. Your brother was ever a thorn in my side. His eyes always held contempt.” She was wringing her hands now, off on her favorite rant. One he knew he couldn’t stop. “He loved your father more than he loved me. He didn’t love me enough. Not like you.” She turned to him then, calming down, cupping his cheek and smiling sweetly. One of her sweetest smiles. Lorcan lived for her smiles. She kissed his lips. Not the kiss of a mother, more that of a fond lover. She hadn’t done that for a while, not since she’d been taken up by Phenex. He’d missed that. Missed her touch. He craved her touch.

  “I’d do anything for you, Mother, you know that,” he whispered. She kissed him again. “Then let me deal with this, my son. I promise you will be the Esseni. The girl is nothing. We don’t need her and in the end Choronzon will suck her dry.” She patted his arm. A dismissal. He wanted to stay with her awhile. Love her as he had before. He knew she saw it in his eyes but she ignored his plea. “Never fear. When you are the Esseni we shall be together again as we were before and Phenex will be a distant memory.” She smiled again. “Leave the slave to me. Go. It shall be done.”

  Lorcan left, the twisted knot of jealousy he had always felt for Jaro easing somewhat now that the end was in sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Truth

  How could this have happened? All her plans in ashes. Sitri fumed all the way to the sanctuary that was the home of the Vita Cruor, the sacred eldars of sanguini society. The guard who opened the door took one look at her face and thought better of challenging her arrival. Pushing her way through the outer gallery where members of the sanguini council meet for informal discussions, Sitri ignored protestations of her rudeness, her sole focus on the one she was here to see. To interrogate.

  Her forcefulness was finally hindered by Xaphan, unfortunately one member of the council she could not afford to completely ignore. “What do you want here, Sitri? You may have the council leader’s ear but you cannot expect to be welcomed with open arms when you arrive uninvited.” She drew to a halt, her eyebrows raised, condescension in her tone. “I have business with one of your detainees. Morana D’Ath.”

  Curiosity aroused, Xaphan stared at her. “What makes you think she’s here?”

  “I know she is,” Sitri hissed. “It was by my hand that the council had her arrested. I need to see her now.” The sanguini eldar appeared puzzled but gestured to a guard nonetheless. After he whispered a few words of command, Sitri was taken down a passageway that led to the cells where those who had displeased the sanguini eldars awaited judgment. Sitri’s lips curled in satisfaction. Morana deserved nothing less. She was treacherous and she was a liar. She had misled Sitri, not just recently but now it seemed that for years she had kept hidden things Sitri ought to have known. After she was done with Morana, she hoped the council taught her a lesson, in the way that only the sanguini could. If her own father had taught her anything, it was that pain was a necessary tool in the quest for power and control. His particular brand of punishment, inflicted on her when she was a child had left her in no doubt of that. It was a pity the sanguini kept their methods of torture secret. She would have enjoyed watching Morana suffer.

  * * * * *

  Morana was thirsty. Her throat dry, she licked at the droplets of water that had landed on her cracked lips. The steady drip came from somewhere above. The water was probably unhealthy but it was all she had and it was torture. It wasn’t water she craved but blood. The eldars definitely knew how to bring one of their own to their knees. If they kept her chained here much longer with that steady trickle of water that burned her throat and made her gasp for the crimson liquid she really thirsted for, she might just crack. But she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. The stakes were too high. If she told them what they wanted to know then everything she had done, fought for, sacrificed would be for nothing.

  The sound of footsteps drew her thoughts away from the bloodthirst that gripped her and for that she was grateful. She was less appreciative when the door creaked open and Sitri stormed in, her expression one of extreme hostility. Morana nearly laughed. It appeared that Sitri was in a rage over something but then that was nothing new. She was always angry. Never satisfied. Never content. And that was one of the many reasons Morana hated her.

  Once upon a time she would have tentatively called Sitri a friend. But time and circumstance had changed that. She would never trust Sitri. As far as she was concerned Sitri had had everything Morana could never have. Her husband had been a good man who doted on her. His death had always struck Morana as suspicious. When he died, he’d left Sitri with two beautiful boys and Morana had never understood why she had sold one into slavery, keeping the other but enslaving him in other ways, a pawn to be used in her endless games. Both boys were now slaves, their destinies and choices restricted by the greed and ambition of their mother.

  If Morana had been their mother she would have treasured them for what they were. Precious. But not Sitri. To her they were disposable assets. Property.

  “You lied to me!” The slap to her cheek that accompanied the scream barely registered. Morana was numb from blood deprivation. Physical pain was nothing to her. She had lived through that kind of torture many times. Unfortunately lack of the crimson liquid that sustained her sanguini nature was a hell that shriveled her veins, desiccating her thumping heart as it battled for every beat, her lungs struggling for every breath. A trickle of blood seeped from a cut in her lip. She let her tongue glide over it, savoring her own taste. Sitri was tugging at Morana’s hair, pulling her head up aggressively. Morana took her time before opening her eyes.

  “When did I lie to you?” Her voice, though weak, held steady.

  Sitri’s brows drew taut in fury. “You told me Lorcan had the stronger essence. You tested them both and you lied! Jaro! Jaro is the true Esseni! And you forgot to mention one other thing
about him.” Sitri paused, waiting for Morana to ask the question. So she did, smiling that her recent assumptions regarding Lorcan and Jaro had proved true and wondering, but not caring how Sitri had discovered Jaro’s barghesti nature.

  “And what did I forget, Sitri? What about Jaro? You were the one who consigned him to the scrapheap. Why would you be bothered about anything else?”

  Sitri let go of her hair and began pacing the small cell. “You knew saevici genes ran in my husband’s family. You knew we were disappointed that neither one of my sons identified as one at birth. How did you not notice? You were the midwife. My supposed friend. You who have the knowledge of both warloki and wiccani lore. You would not miss something like that unless it was on purpose. Tell me. What ulterior motive did you have?”

  “Ha!” Morana laughed wildly. “You think it was me. That I hid it deliberately. Think again, Sitri. Your husband was not as stupid and lovesick over you as you think.” The frozen expression on Sitri’s face made Morana smile even through her pain. “He had his doubts about you. He knew immediately that Jaro was saevici. His own father was a barghesti and it usually jumps a generation. He was going to initiate Jaro when he turned eleven. That’s the usual age for a barghesti saevici to become one with his animal spirit. Before that age they’re too young to control the wildness of the barghesti wolf. That’s why they’re so rare. Often they’re initiated too early and die because the spirit is too savage. If Jaro has now manifested as a barghesti without that initiation he must be strong indeed.”

  Morana watched Sitri’s face distort into a hideous expression of hatred, the ugliness of her soul wiping the illusion of beauty from her normal visage. “That bastard! I thought he loved me! He should have told me and then everything would have been different.”

  “You mean you would have sold Lorcan instead of Jaro?” That seemed to give Sitri pause from her raving. She stopped pacing and drew in a deep breath. “Who knows what would have happened? I guess we all have our secrets. You think you have everyone fooled, don’t you, Morana? But I know more about you than you think.” Sitri drew closer, nose to nose, her indigo eyes locking onto Morana’s turquoise ones. “I know for instance that you have hidden some treasure. Something you think no one knows about…” She let her words trail off, her smile turning vicious.

  Morana could feel the blood drain from her face, dizziness crashing over her, lack of sustenance threatening to bring her to her knees. “You know nothing,” she whispered, trying to think clearly. Sitri couldn’t possibly know. No one did. Her treasure was safe. It had to be, because if anyone found it the consequences were too disastrous to contemplate. She struggled with the restraints, the physical resistance echoing the fight to keep her sanity at the possibility of Sitri knowing something…anything. It was impossible. She couldn’t. Could she? Precious images swam before her eyes, the motion dizzying as she fought to stay conscious and rational. Her last thoughts before she blacked out nearly broke her.

  Sitri stared angrily at Morana’s unconscious body. She was strung up by her hands; dangling off the floor and by the looks of her had already been subjected to some particularly vicious methods of torture. She wanted to kill her for the deception but perhaps it was more fitting that she be left to the eldars. They would prolong her suffering. Make her bleed. It was nothing less than she deserved. Sitri could still achieve her aims even with Lorcan being who he was. He could still inherit the essence through Jaro’s death. It was regrettable. A barghesti would have been very useful but Jaro was too uncontrollable. He would never trust her, bow to her will as Lorcan did. He never had. Still, she would make the best of it. She always did.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Torture

  Tani couldn’t breathe. She was holding on by a thread that was still fraying even as she so desperately tried to tie the ends together. After the horror of Jaro’s near demise and the brutal fury he’d directed at her, she had almost collapsed. It had taken every shred of strength she possessed, every steel inch of her backbone to remain erect and appear unaffected.

  The guards had dragged him away but he had fought them. She had watched her brave warrior, ferocious and savage in his resistance even through the agonizing suppression spells the warloki had thrown at him. Finally he had been knocked unconscious, Phenex himself aiming the final blow.

  Numbed to the chaos around her, Tani had no memory of returning to Morana’s suite or how she had been bathed and dressed in some gauzy, flimsy excuse for a dress. All at Phenex’s command. That was it. She recalled the giggling voices of the ladies who were responsible for her attire. They seemed to think it was some kind of honor and that she should be grateful for his attentions.

  Phenex be damned! The image of how Jaro had been treated coated her vision with a red veil that stoked her anger. He would pay and Jaro would be freed but she really needed to see him first, to reassure him that she was on his side. He had tried to push her away before but this time she wouldn’t let him. She would fight for their connection because even though it appeared broken she had faith that it could be fixed. It wasn’t in her nature to give up. Even today when he had spewed hatred and vile curses at her, she had still felt its tingling electricity beneath her skin, trying to reach out to him. Tani understood all too well they were walking a fine line. Love and Hate, hand in hand, teetering on the edge of something that would be either a comfort or a curse. It didn’t help that her situation at the palace was fragile but she could only hope that Cassi and the warriors were close at hand, ready to swoop in if needed.

  The ladies-in-waiting were gone, having told her that during the day she was free to wander the palace with no restrictions other than she couldn’t leave. She had been too shaken at first to even move but gradually her resolve had returned. The fighting spirit that gave her the strength to meet her destiny head-on kicked in along with the desperate need to see Jaro.

  It was nightfall before she finally left the relative safety of her room. She was surprised that neither Lorcan nor Phenex had been near but grateful for a reprieve, she took the opportunity afforded by their absence to locate the man who now laid claim to her body and soul.

  Having some knowledge of the palace layout from previous experience, Tani made her way down the dark corridor she knew led to the dungeons where prisoners were kept. A few shedu guards acknowledged her progress but none challenged her presence. The final guard who held the keys to the individual cells neither questioned nor commented on her command that he open Jaro’s cell, leaving her with the impression that it was not unusual for ladies of the court to indulge in relations with Phenex’s prisoners and male slaves. The thought made her uncomfortable and she wondered how many times Jaro had been called on to service a highborn lady’s pleasure. She imagined it would have been often, given his savage beauty. How could they resist wanting a taste? She certainly couldn’t, but then maybe his ferocity had kept them at bay. She hoped that was the case. Hated to imagine otherwise.

  Her scattered thoughts coalesced into a lump that sat heavily in her throat, nearly causing her to gag as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cell and Jaro’s beaten form became visible. They had strung him up against the damp wall chained to a metal ring by chains wrapped around his wrists. His head lay to one side, dark hair hanging lank against his chest. Tears pooled in her eyes, his name escaping from her lips, a whispered prayer of sorrow and yearning.

  “Jaro.” The sound of her voice sliced through the pain. He’d been dreaming of her again. He couldn’t help it no matter how hard he tried to fill his vision of her with rage and hatred. It was his curse that he could see her only through a veil of compassion and love, her gentle touch enclosing him in that silky blanket of protection he remembered from the cave. He would never be able to forget the taste of her kiss and how beautiful she had looked when she had made love to him. Her soft caresses not just smoothing over the cracks in his defenses but erasing them completely. But that gentle touch had left his heart exposed. Raw and naked. Open to
emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge because he knew how fragile they were.

  In those first moments in the great room after Tani had revealed his secret, he had been so consumed with anger that he’d nearly lost his mind. The words he had flung at her an instinctive response to betrayal. He had been furious with her. Then the pain of the suppression spells had kicked in and as he fought against them he had registered her distress. Her expression had remained passive but he had felt her reach out to him, a gentle embrace that wrapped around his heart and held it steady. It was a fleeting caress because the next minute agony overtook and then blackness.

  Since he’d awakened he couldn’t get her out of his mind and now her voice was ringing in his head. Clear as a bell. “Jaro!” Her voice again, husky and low, coated in honey. So close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. His heart pounded, caressed by heat that curled into an embrace. He felt the fire right down to his core, sparking the realization that she was actually there, in front of him, and not just a phantom of his imagination.