by Erin Rhew
“Crush me? What are you talking about?”
The Innocent froze and disappeared, but he wondered what she meant. Cataleen’s eyes narrowed. The queen had returned.
“Are sure you want to see this?” As usual, she did not mention The Innocent’s appearance.
“Yes.” He sounded much more resolved than he felt. The Innocent’s dire warning rang out in his mind, but he pushed it aside. Nash didn’t fear Cataleen. An Outlander could never possess the strength to crush the son of a Vanguard king.
She fixed him with an unwavering, malignant gaze. The cruelty in her eyes, as they locked onto Nash’s needy ones, would freeze the warmest of hearts and darken the most radiant of souls. As she established a connection with Nash’s mind, gentle and intimate as a lover’s touch, an evil smile played across on her thin lips. Malice poured from her, betraying her intention to destroy him at his most vulnerable.
An image of Layla appeared before him, and Nash bit back a cry of relief and joy. His beloved looked just as beautiful as the last time he had seen her.
“Layla.” He spoke her name with rapt adoration.
As the scene came into full view, Nash saw she had company. From what he could tell, she sat inside a tent, on her knees across from a shirtless Wil. His brother’s finger rested on Layla’s chin.
Nash’s chest constricted as he watched. Layla leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Wil’s lips.
She spoke, “I meant what I said earlier. I choose you. I love you, and I want you. All of you.”
A lump formed in Nash’s throat. A fast-growing mass lodged itself in his stomach, growing at a rapid pace until he thought he might be ill. Hearing Layla say she chose Wil, a secret fear Nash carried, almost broke him. The Innocent had been right. Cataleen wanted to crush him, and he had been arrogant enough to believe she didn’t have to power to do it.
“Stop!” Nash choked. “Cataleen, stop.”
She either didn’t hear him or didn’t listen because the images continued. A thousand swords assailed his heart as he watched Wil bend down and kiss Layla across her collarbone. Nash’s stomach lurched when an obvious tremor of pleasure ran through her.
He closed his eyes, hoping to block out the scene, but it stayed.
“Cataleen!” His voice carried all the pain and sorrow he felt inside. “Cataleen, I don’t want to see any more. Stop!”
Though the vision in front of him blocked his view of the queen, Nash heard her laugh. She enjoyed his anguish. A rush of anger swirled through him. Maybe she had created the scene before him, an illusion born in her twisted mind. Convincing himself he’d fallen prey to another of her tricks, he tried to calm down.
But his flailing effort proved ineffective. His heart tore as Wil started at the base of Layla’s throat and worked his way back up to her mouth. They both shook with a palpable mixture of pleasure and anticipation. Nash told himself over and over that what he saw could not be real.
Still, he found himself doubled over, clutching his stomach in a vain attempt to hold all this pain inside. The chain around his neck yanked at his head, but he couldn’t right himself. Seeing Layla in Wil’s arms, hearing her say she chose Wil, ripped him apart like nothing ever had. Nash couldn’t seem to hold himself tight enough to stop the burning inside his chest.
“Stop, please. Please.”
The last word flew out of his mouth with desperation, but the vision marched forward, relentless in its assault. Nash agonized as Wil rolled Layla beneath him, his face beaming with love and desire.
“You’re sure?” Wil asked her.
She brushed her lips against Wil’s throat. Nash doubled over farther, the chain choking him. He gasped. He couldn’t breathe, not because of the chain but from this torture.
Cataleen could not have conceived of a better way to injure him, and Nash hated her more in that moment than he ever had before. At any time, she could stop these excruciating images, but she didn’t. She let him suffer, dying inside with every touch he witnessed between Layla and Wil.
He heard Layla murmur, “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”
“I love you, Layla.”
“And I love you, Wil.”
Nash squeezed his eyes, but the picture of Layla and Wil entangled burned into his mind. Infuriated at being subjected to this suffering, he stood. Nash yanked at his chains like a man possessed. He screamed, a gut wrenching, soul piercing sound. The stone in the walls shuddered and vibrated, but he remained bound.
“STOP!” He shouted the word over and over until he could no longer speak.
Every kiss, every caress, of Wil and Layla’s union played out before him. Unable to hold them back, a torrent of hurt and angry tears overwhelmed him. His breathing grew ragged. The pain and the chain worked together to strangle him. Dying, he preferred it to watching their love play out.
Cataleen stayed with the vision, forcing him to watch every moment, even when they finished and Wil held a sleeping Layla in his arms, stroking her long black hair. Only then did Cataleen stop.
Nash fell to his knees, and then down on all fours. He gulped in what little air he could, choking on his own heartache.
“Layla,” he whispered. “No.”
“I told you she didn’t love you.” Cataleen’s voice echoed, unfeeling, unaffected.
“Get away from me.” Hatred for her—for her terrible, black soul—seeped from every pore of his body.
“Don’t be mad at me for showing you the truth.”
“You showed me nothing but a lie. I saw what you wanted me to see, nothing else.” He needed those words to be true. He needed that as much as the air he breathed.
“I told you I don’t control the images. I simply relay them.”
“Get away from me.”
He struggled to control his wild, erratic breathing. Nash hated the idea of Cataleen watching as he grappled with these paralyzing feelings. She snickered and turned to go. When he heard her feet stop near the door, Nash looked up to find The Innocent staring back at him.
“Oh Nash.” She ran and knelt down at his side, stroking his back. “I’m so sorry. I tried to stop her, but I can’t.”
“Please” he panted. “Please leave.”
She let out a strangled gasp, and the warm wetness of her tears dropped on his back. She seemed to understand his anguish. Regardless of how she acted now, she existed within Cataleen.
“Go.”
Without another word, she stood and fled the cell. Alone with his misery, Nash punched the stone wall. Pain exploded through his hand, but it paled in comparison to what he felt inside. Bellowing out all his despair, Nash pelted the wall, leaving his hands raw and bleeding.
He lay on his side, spent, and resumed clutching his stomach. The visions Cataleen had implanted raced through his mind. Was it real? Did Layla really choose Wil? Or had Cataleen managed to trick him again? He didn’t know, and the not knowing tortured him almost as much as the images.
Cataleen had managed to poke a small hole in his heart which had continued to grow until every part of him threatened to shatter.
“Layla,” he whispered into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wil
Still half asleep, Wil rolled over. His arm reached out for Layla, but he found only empty space beside him. He shot up, causing spots in his vision.
“Layla?”
She’d gone. Though he understood the need for discretion, he missed the warmth of her body. Recalling the night before—her lips, her body, her passion—he lay back down, one hand behind his head and a grin upon his face. She chose him. She loved him. As often as he dreamt about her saying those words, he never believed she would.
A disturbing thought entered his mind, breaking his peaceful joy. What if she regretted her choice? What if she regretted last night? Wil chastised himself. He shouldn’t have let it go so far. The moment, her confession, everything, had overwhelmed him, but he should have been stronger. If she regretted what happened, he
would never forgive himself. He loved her and should have protected her, even from his own desire.
Wil threw on a shirt and pants. He had to see her. He needed to look into her eyes and know how she felt about what had transpired. The idea that she might be remorseful over their union ripped at him. Wil burst out of the tent, his gaze roaming the campsite until they landed upon her.
Layla stood with Samson, Grant, and Vespa near the campfire. When he saw the relaxed look on her face, he breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t look regretful. Samson gestured, making big sweeping motions with his arms, while the others laughed. The sight of Layla smiling warmed him.
“Good morning,” a shy voice said from behind.
He withheld his groan. Mia. Why did she have such horrible timing? He would rather be stabbed again by Vance’s sword than stand and make polite conversation with her when he longed to talk to Layla and gauge her feelings.
“Good morning.” He walked toward the campfire, hoping she would get the hint, but she fell in step beside him.
“I’m sure you’re happy you’ll get to see your brother today.” She peeked out from beneath her long lashes.
“Yes.” He answered her with his mind elsewhere, but the full impact of her statement hit him. Wil’s stomach turned. Nash. He hadn’t even thought of his brother, and doing so now proved too painful. He pushed aside the guilt.
“Excuse me, Mia.” He stepped around her to stand beside Layla.
When his beloved turned, a smile upon her face, the vise grip on his heart loosened a bit. Wil moved closer to her. He wanted to take her hand but didn’t know how she’d feel about displaying their mutual affection to everyone so soon.
He bent toward her ear, so close he could smell her hair. “May I speak to you?”
“Sure.”
He motioned for her to take the lead. She walked toward a cluster of trees and underbrush, providing sufficient privacy. Out of everyone else’s view, Wil moved in behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her on the neck. Her whole body stiffened.
“Is this not okay to do?” He hid his hurt and disappointment behind a forced smile.
“I just didn’t expect it.” She extricated herself from his embrace and turned to face him. He furrowed his brow, attempting to comprehend this shift in behavior.
“Am I misreading the situation?
“What situation?”
Her question baffled him. “Last night.”
“What happened last night?”
Did she joke? No smile, not even a hint of one, graced her face. He frowned; uncertainty collected in the pit of his stomach.
“When you came…into my tent…and told me you loved me and had chosen me…and then we…” The word, and his tongue, locked up inside his mouth.
Layla’s forehead wrinkled as she frowned. She turned her head to the side, her bewilderment clear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He swallowed hard. What was going on? “We made love. You don’t remember that?”
She drew back, shaking her head. “I was in my tent all night.”
“You were with me. You told me that you chose me, that you wanted to be with me forever.”
“I wasn’t there. I never came to your tent.” She continued to shake her head, her mouth open in shock.
“I know you did. It was too real, too intimate to be a dream.” He wished she would say something, give him any indication of her thoughts, but she remained silent.
“I wasn’t there,” she said again.
His frustration mounted. Why did she persist in saying she hadn’t been to his tent? Was she embarrassed over what they’d done? Pain tore through him. If she no longer felt as she had last night, he wished she’d just admit it. Wil’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. He’d given her a part of himself that he’d never given anyone. To have that thrown back in his face…
“If you’ve changed your mind, just tell me, but please don’t lie and pretend it didn’t happen.”
Shock transformed to anger in an instant. “I’m not lying. I was never in your tent, Wil.”
“Fine.” He spun around and stalked toward the campsite. A scream welled up inside him, pushing against his chest, straining to be released. She had made a fool out of him. He never would have thought she could be so cold and callous. He ached, more than he ever thought possible.
“Wait!” Layla called.
He ignored her and kept walking, the pain inside growing with each step.
Layla
Layla returned to the campsite, perplexed. Each time she glanced at Wil, he refused to meet her eyes. Utter devastation colored his face. He believed what he said, that she had come into his tent last night and professed her love, but Layla knew she had not.
They each believed their side of the story with certainty, but one of them had to be wrong. How could she not remember making love for the first time? Her heart stuttered. An Alteration could do that, but which of them had been Altered, and by whom? In their group, only Vespa and Wil performed Alterations. Wil would have no reason to do it, but Vespa didn’t either. What would be the purpose?
“Vespa?” She tapped the blond Ethereal on the arm.
Warm brown eyes met hers. “Have you eaten yet?” Vespa held up a piece of bread and an apple.
The sight of food turned Layla’s stomach. The situation sapped her appetite. “I’m not hungry.”
“Layla, we’re leaving in a little while. If you don’t eat, you may not get another opportunity for a while.” Vespa eyed her. “And if all Outlanders are resistant to Alterations like Mia, we may all need your Vanguard strength, so eat.”
“I really need to talk to you, Vespa. If you’ll talk to me for just a moment, I promise to force some food down afterward.”
“Okay.” Vespa slid over to Grant and whispered in his ear before turning to go.
Layla followed behind, trying to work out in her head what she would say. Oblivious to Layla’s internal angst, the Ethereal princess plopped down underneath a tree and chewed on the apple she’d offered earlier.
“Vespa.”
The princess crinkled her nose in mimicry. “Layla.” She spoke in a low and somber voice. A moment later, her musical laughter rang out. Layla frowned. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be serious. Layla, what has you so on edge? You and Wil went into the forest together and both came out looking like someone died. I tried to talk to Wil, but he just wanted to sulk. So, tell me what’s going on.”
“I think someone may have Altered my mind or his.” Saying the words out loud provided Layla a small bit of relief and provided a false sense of understanding.
“And you think I did it?”
Layla looked at her feet. “Other than Wil, you’re the only one that can.”
“After what my father did to me, you think I would go around Altering minds for fun? Have you lost your own mind?” Vespa jumped up, her hands on her hips, the apple forgotten on the ground.
“No…I just…I don’t know what to think, Vespa. Wil is so sure of one thing, and I’m so sure of another. We can’t both be right…I just…” she sputtered, fumbling for the right words. Everything she said sounded foolish, even to her own ears. Maybe she had lost her mind.
Vespa dropped her hands from her hips and sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut for moment before focusing on Layla. “So, let me get this straight, Wil believes an event occurred, an event in which you were both involved?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe this event did not occur.”
“Yes.”
Vespa tucked her long, blond strands behind her ears as she contemplated the situation.
“Well, that certainly sounds like an Alteration, but Wil and I are the only people capable of performing one. I see why you came to me, but I didn’t do it.” She glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “Tell me what Wil thinks happened.”
Layla shook her head as heat rushed to her
face. Wrapping her mind around his belief proved impossible. Just contemplating it…A small shudder ran through her body.
“That bad?”
“Worse.”
Vespa’s face hardened. Her normal jovial disposition disappeared in favor of a much angrier one.
“What?” Layla worried she’d somehow offended Wil’s sister again.
“Mia.” Vespa spat out the other girl’s name like poison. “She’s over there snuggling up to Wil again, just like she has every chance she’s gotten this trip. Why didn’t Wil insist on bringing guards to watch her? Oh, and why are we forced to share a tent with her? I’ve slept terribly this whole time worried she would try to kill me in my sleep.”
Layla turned to Vespa. Their eyes met.
“Mia!” Vespa started to point to the Halfling but let her hand drop. “Do you think she has the ability to perform something like an Alteration?”
“We don’t know what she has the ability to do. I would say anything is possible. Volton Holt said the three siblings of the First Ones were jealous of one another. That suggests to me that the powers were different, but what if she does have some sort of mind-altering capabilities?”
“She would have every reason to try to drive a wedge between you and Wil.”
“What do you mean?” Layla’s gaze followed Vespa’s back to the campsite. Mia stared at Wil, a dreamy grin on her face, though he paid her no attention.
“She likes my brother.” Jealousy, hot and vicious, shot through Layla. Vespa continued, “But he’s obviously in love with you. Maybe she believes if she could mess with one or both of your minds and get you angry at one another, she would have a better chance to be with him.”
Layla nodded. “The question is, does she have the power to do that?”
“I think we should assume she does until proven otherwise. Keep a mind guard up around her, Layla. Warn Wil to do the same.”
“If he’ll talk to me.”
“He will.” Vespa started back toward the campsite. “If we’re going into the Outlands and they do have mind powers, we’d all be wise to keep up our guard.” She called back over her shoulder. “I’ll warn Samson and Grant as well.”