“Used together, they make us invincible,” Lyandros said.
“Okay…” Akito pushed both hands through his hair. “So, who is this prince you think has them?”
A shape separated itself from the drapery that framed the arched balcony doorway. A young fae, not more than twenty-eight in human years by appearance, swept a courtly bow. The fall of his short, dark hair momentarily obscured his eyes. This, he flipped back with a toss of his head as he rose.
“That would be me.” Though the fae spoke to the room, his green eyes affixed on Akito.
Lyandros reflexively reached for his sword, and belatedly remembered it had been taken from him upon his arrival.
Akito, slack jawed, gasped.
“How long have you been listening?” Lyandros asked.
Ruby lips formed a pout of indecision, then relaxed as finely boned hands went to boyish hips. “Long enough to know that I might have to cut your balls off if you abused my friend.”
Lyandros’s brows snapped up. Something about the fae read as off. Almost like an illusion… No… An illusion lifted. Next to Lyandros, Isander stood silent, his face a storm of conflicting emotions. Unless Lyandros missed his guess, there was affection there, mixed with anger, doubt and, lastly, a layer of hurt betrayal. Recalling that Isander had been in the Morgan’s not-so-loving care for twenty years, the tumblers of Lyandros’s mind clicked into place, releasing the information he had somehow known all along.
Lyandros blinked and saw it. Yes. There he was. The slim nose and pointed chin. Those thick black lashes, and eyebrows more like wings. Gods. How had she…he…remained under an illusion spell for so long?
“You are the child of the Morgan and Lady Morgana,” Lyandros observed.
The fae-witch offspring stepped forward with surefooted grace. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Gods…” Akito attempted to approach, but Lyandros stayed him with an outstretched arm.
“And…you are the prince of Faerie?” Lyandros confirmed.
“My given name is Nicolas. I am a Prince of Faerie, in line of succession and doomed to inherit all you see… Unless—of course—” Nyx’s smile flashed, an ironic show of even white teeth. “—my father or the Morgan kills me first.”
Chapter 18
Nyx had taken off the transfiguration cuff.
Akito, dumbfounded at seeing the adult male version of his childhood friend, couldn’t stop staring. Sharp fae features that had been pixie-like on Nyx in female form, were now sculptured. The fae didn’t grow facial hair, so at least Akito didn’t have a five o’clock shadow to contemplate. It wasn’t that Nyx being a guy bothered him—hell, he’d known that all along—it was just that he couldn’t help looking for the feminine features he’d come to know so well. To top it all off, he had to figure out the new puzzle Nyx had presented—his parentage.
“But your father is the Morgan,” Akito said, finally finding his voice. “Isn’t he?”
How could Nyx be the Prince of Faerie? It would mean that he was the offspring of that obscene fae king—something Akito couldn’t believe, forget stomach. Though perhaps he was better than the Morgan.
“You.” Nyx rounded on Akito, pointing a finger.
Akito took a step back.
Bearing down on him, Nyx crossed the room in two steps. Akito reflexively recoiled, but Nyx grabbed him by the shoulders with hands that were both stronger and larger than Akito had remembered from their youth.
“How could you? How could you do this? To Ben? To me?” Tears sprang to dark eyes Akito knew better than his own. “To yourself?”
“I—” Akito began, then choked on his own wellspring of emotion. “Nyx—”
Nyx cut him off with a hug that stole his air. Rather than being engulfed by sweet perfume and a flurry of skirts and bells, he was enfolded in buttery soft green suede, the crisp scent of spring rain, and the pungent aroma of pine forests.
“Why?” Nyx whispered, over and over, hugging him. “Why, Akito? Why? Why? Why?”
Akito broke free, swiping at his eyes with the heels of his hands.
He spared the stern-faced Lyandros a glance, realizing he’d left whatever position he had been supposed to keep as the man’s tribute. Lyandros nodded, the small tilt of his chin giving permission for the interaction with Nyx. Akito moved to a settee large enough to fit both himself and Nyx and sat.
Akito leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. He’d never thought he might have the opportunity to explain to Nyx why he’d jumped. Reflexively, he rooted around in his head for the Morgan. In the witch’s place, he found Lyandros’s quiet and unobtrusive presence. The feeling should have scared the piss out of him. Instead, for now, it reassured him—a pillar of strength on which he could lean.
“I don’t know where to begin.” Akito’s hands muffled his words.
“How about you start with why you threatened to tell the Morgan about my disguise?”
Akito lifted his head to find everyone staring at him. Lyandros had taken a position by the fire, his arm along the mantle. Isander slid his gaze to Nyx from the station he’d taken up by the door, his expression guarded. Nyx was where Akito had left him—in the middle of the carpet, looking small and large at the same time. Hell, in comparison to the vampires, any male tended to appear stunted.
“I’m sorry.” Inhaling, Akito searched for the right words. “It wasn’t by choice.”
Nyx appeared to digest the information. “Go on.”
Akito scrubbed both hands over his face, rubbing at both stubble and sweat. How could he ever justify his threats? Even now, knowing what the Morgan had done to him—would do to him if he ever went back to his corporeal life in Boston—he couldn’t forgive himself. All he’d ever wanted to do was to keep his friends safe.
“He was in my head, Nyx.” By the door, Isander shifted, but Nyx never so much as glanced Isander’s way. “I was bound to him. He had control over everything I said and did.” A tremor went up Akito’s spine, to his shoulders, and he shuddered at memories of claw-like hands touching him, trailing lower. “I had to jump because he was going to rip me apart after I accidentally revealed your identity to him that night. He told me to bring you to him. That was why I made you leave. Why I went away.”
Nyx joined Akito on the settee. “Hells bells. Couldn’t you have told me? I could’ve done something.”
Akito recalled the weeks of torture when he’d lived under an overpass and survived on scraps of trash. Even the other vagrants had run from his moans and screams. By all rights, he shouldn’t be sane now, alive or dead.
“He wouldn’t let me.” Akito leaned back so he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Nyx. “That blood cleansing ritual you did somehow made him stronger. It was all I could do to run away from you.”
Nyx mulled this over, then shook his head before another thought darkened his expression. “And to think, I supported Tzadkiel banishing you.”
Old pain knifed through Akito. “It’s all right, I get it.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Nyx glared, thwacking him in the arm. “Martyr is not sexy, you jerk.”
A grin broke through the cloud of welling emotion, and Akito punched Nyx back. Lightly. “You and Ben take up the hero slots. Martyr Man was all that was left.”
“Shut up.” Nyx spoke through a snort, then grew serious. “So, introduce me to your new friend.”
Nodding to Isander first, because he was easier to explain, Akito said, “This is the mora’s King Ruler, Isander Dragoumanos.”
“We are acquainted.” Isander pushed away from the door, dropping his hands to his sides where they formed loose fists. “Hello…Nic.”
Pink etched the skin across Nyx’s nose with his blush. “It’s just Nyx to my friends now.”
To this, Isander said nothing.
Nyx broke the staring contest with Isander, pointing at Lyandros. “I meant him.”
“Duh. Right.” He mentally face-palmed. “You two know each other.”
Nyx stood, Lyandros’s palm engulfing his smaller hand when they shook. “Your brother will be pleased to hear news of your good health.”
Lyandros returned a staid nod. “How is our War King? And the mora?”
“Not great.” Nyx pushed a hand through his bangs and blew out a harried breath. “Things will be much better with your and Isander’s return.”
Pain, tightened the skin around Lyandros’s eyes. “For me, at least, that is an impossibility.”
“I don’t understand.” Nyx scrunched his nose, looking between Akito and Lyandros. “You don’t want to go back?”
“I met Lyandros as a ghost,” Akito explained. “We’re both, um, technically dead, Nyx. Ghosts. Only corporeal here in Faerie. Speaking of which, how did you know we were here?”
“Oh. That explains a few things.” Nyx’s feeble smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And, um, I didn’t know you were here.”
Akito cocked his head. “You didn’t?”
As far as Akito knew, Nyx avoided Faerie if he could. The place crawled with his mother’s spies, and Nyx had very little power here compared to some. Sure, he had a few allies, and now Akito knew why. Fucking prince of the realm. Akito shook his head. Wonders never ceased.
“I came to see if I could convince my allies to help the mora bring down the Morgan. Then I heard gossip that the King Ruler was here…” Gaze skittering to Isander, Nyx rubbed the back of his own neck. “And I thought we might be able to work together.”
Isander’s expression clouded, but he remained mute. Something about his closed off stance said not bloody likely.
“Does the fae king know you are here?” The question came from Lyandros, who had moved behind the settee.
Nyx shook his head, and Akito found himself missing the bells that used to be woven there. This change would take a while to get used to. “Not yet.”
“Let us keep it that way for a while,” Lyandros said, expression guarded.
“Do you think sh…he can stay in here? Is it safe?” Questions flew through Akito’s head about gender identity and pronouns that he didn’t have the internal vocabulary to examine.
“He can stay in my suite.” Isander spoke, unexpectedly, bringing Nyx’s head around. “I think between all of us we should be able to keep him hidden.”
Nyx licked his lips. “Uh…sure. Thanks.”
“Akito.” Lyandros laid a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention.
A thrill of power went through Akito at Lyandros’s intent. The Justice Giver wanted him to retire with him for the night. Akito’s sex awakened, his blood pounding. He stood without question, believing whatever Lyandros had in mind would be one-half punishment and one-half pleasure.
He looked to Nyx. “I gotta go. See you tomorrow?”
Nyx screwed up half his face. “Go where?”
“Um. Bed?” He indicated Lyandros with a toss of his head. “I’m his tribute.”
“Oh… Oh.” Eyes widening, Nyx glanced between him and Lyandros. “Akito, what did you do?”
More like what did you and I do with Ben, he thought, but left that alone for now.
Akito decided on a partial truth, simply glad Nyx seemed to have read the situation correctly and wasn’t pissed. Whatever problems Akito had with Lyandros, he wanted to work them out himself, and he didn’t need anyone else’s protection.
“It was Isander’s blood I drank,” Akito said by way of simplest explanation.
Nyx’s wide-eyed expression wasn’t so much surprise as oh shit.
“Come,” Lyandros said. “They have things to talk of, and so do we.”
Akito stood, glancing at Nyx, who had lifted his gaze to Isander.
“I believe you have something of mine,” the King Ruler said.
Lyandros closed the door on Nyx’s “It’s safe, Xan. Leave it alone.”
Akito leaned against the wall next to the door and shut his eyes in weary gratitude. Nyx was here and safe. They could pass on the information about the moon bridge in the morning. But wait, what if Nyx left before then?
Eyes flying open, Akito turned to open the door.
Lyandros was there before him, palm pressed against the gilded white panel. “It can wait until tomorrow.”
“But—” A warm palm covered Akito’s mouth, cutting off his reply.
“Isander will take care of it.” The hand dropped away, replaced with a brush of Lyandros’s lips.
Sweet wine laced Lyandros’s breath, coating Akito’s mouth with the darting of the vampire’s tongue. Akito signed into the kiss. He knew he should fear this claiming, but instead he found himself leaning into it—accepting.
Opening to Lyandros fully, Akito allowed himself to be pressed back into the wall. Lyandros, in turn, wedged his thigh along Akito’s apex, creating a sensual pressure that had Akito moaning in time to the thrust of Lyandros’s lips and tongue.
“Very nice.” Lyandros lifted his head in a series of lingering kisses that ended all too soon. “If you can keep your tongue in check, perhaps tomorrow you may use it for more pleasurable tasks.”
Breath ragged, Akito regarded Lyandros, uncomprehending.
Lyandros chucked him under the chin, patronizing. “Time for sleep.”
Akito blushed, his stomach falling as Lyandros turned away.
Lyandros took a pillow and extra covers from the bed, tossing them on the floor. “Your place is here tonight.”
Akito blew out a laugh, rejection rapidly morphing to irritation. “You can’t be serious.”
“I told you what your punishment would be should you fail to attend me earlier.” Expression arch, Lyandros regarded him. “Do not behave as if you are surprised.”
The ache in Akito’s sex found a new place in his chest. “You’re seriously going to make me sleep, like a dog, on the floor?”
Lyandros’s lips thinned as he set about peeling back the covers on the bed. “I never speak a sentence I do not carry out.”
Snorting, Akito grabbed the pillow from the floor and tossed it closer to the fire where at least he’d be warm. “You sound like your brother.”
“Tzadkiel?” Lyandros looked askance at him over his shoulder.
“Yeah.” The whole fucking family had a complex about honor and judgment and, lucky him, he was their favorite whipping boy.
A smile softened the vampire’s mouth, and he stilled in the act of fluffing a pillow. “I suppose I would have learned it from him.”
“Whatever.” Unbuttoning his shirt, Akito shrugged out of both it and his jacket before shucking his pants.
Lyandros sat on the edge of the bed, attending to his own boots and clothing. Akito bit back a sarcastic comment on it being a wonder the vampire could undress himself after so many years with tributes as attendants. Settling in near the hearth, Akito realized this would be the first night he’d slept in a bedroom in more than six months. Also, the first night he’d slept at all since his death.
Cross-legged on the floor, he let the heat of the fire warm his back while Lyandros settled back on the bed. Their gazes met, Akito’s accusing. Lyandros opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Akito felt the repressed sentiment in his own chest—resolute acceptance and a strange sadness braided together. His emotions or Lyandros’s? He couldn’t tell.
When the vampires had reminisced about Lyandros’s role as Justice Giver, and the place his tributes had held by his side, Akito had imagined himself in Lyandros’s bed, underneath the vampire, skin-to-skin. Sweat slicking their heaving bodies as the vampire took him in every way imaginable. Scowling, he picked at a stray thread at the blanket’s edge. He knew Lyandros wanted him. So, why wasn’t he in the bed?
“Because it is what you need,” Lyandros answered. “No matter what either of us wants.”
Akito lifted his
chin, meeting Lyandros’s eyes again. “Get out of my head.”
“Go to sleep.” Lyandros turned away, snuffing out the remaining candle.
Akito flopped sideways, flinging an arm over his eyes. Huddled on the floor, he lay awake for a long time, until a fitful sleep claimed him. When he dreamed, it was of a golden chain made of finely wrought metal links. He tugged on the chain and realized it had tangled around him. He thrashed, fighting harder, but the links only tightened. Exhausted, he panted with fear. As he relaxed, however, he found the chain did too, until he could step out of the loosened length. Holding the metal in his hand, he decided to explore where it led.
Tentative first steps brought him into the velvety darkness. He took another step and another, safe in the knowledge that he couldn’t get lost if he held onto the tether. A tug vibrated up the length, and he turned to find Lyandros framed in a ball of light. He reached for the vampire, and the chain slipped out of his hand. He scrambled after it, but it remained out of reach. Losing Lyandros’s light, he slipped, falling into the darkness, and tumbled over and over in an abyss. The last thing he saw on his descent was Lyandros, holding out his hand. Akito grabbed for the vampire and missed, his rescue too little…too late.
Chapter 19
Lyandros bobbed to the surface of sleep with a warrior’s instinct for trouble. Something was amiss. Indistinct mutterings roused him to consciousness, and his eyes snapped open. He turned his head, searching for the sound. Akito. The tribute talked to himself by the hearth. Annoyed, Lyandros sat up, intent on commanding him to silence. His scowl morphed into a concerned frown at the scene before him.
The fire had died down. Its embers cast a hellish glow over Akito’s tortured expression. Hands, claw-like in rigor mortis, raked the air, and his head thrashed to and fro. A nightmare held Akito in its unyielding grip. Fear’s icy fingers plucked at the connection between Lyandros and his tribute.
“Akito. Wake up,” Lyandros said, covers pooling to his waist. “You are dreaming.”
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