by Bella Devine
Aylin ran shaky fingers through her frazzled hair. "Liam, your connection with Bryn is stronger. We're going to try and pull her back."
"Okay, what do I do?"
"Close your eyes and focus on Bryn and your connection with her. This will hopefully pull you to the plane she was transported to. It will sort of be like when Bryn pulled you to her dream, but this time, you must push yourself there. I will pull you both back. Understand?"
"How will you pull them back and what if it doesn't work?" Connor asked from across the room.
"Let me worry about that. Are you ready, Liam?"
"I think so." I closed my eyes and twined my fingers with Bryn's. Taking a deep breath, I focused on our crescent moon imprints. I imagined the bond flowing from my body into hers until we were both one. One body. One mind. One soul.
I entered a room of darkness and knew I had succeeded. She turned to me with trusting eyes. I knew you would come for me. She looked back into the darkness. I can't hold them off.
I couldn't stand the defeat in her voice. I know, love. We're working to get you out of here. Do you trust me?
Yes. She squeezed my hand without hesitation.
I need you to lower your defenses to let Aylin into your mind.
If I do that, my mental wall will fall. The intruders will take me.
Trust that I will not let anything happen to you. Take deep breaths and release your defenses.
If I get captured and die, I swear I'm going to haunt you, Liam.
I smiled. I expect nothing less.
I felt a burst of energy. Power, unlike anything I ever imagined, fueled me. Scared me. Then I realized it wasn't my power or feelings. It was Bryn's. The emotions swam through me as if they had been with me forever. The need drove me forward, harder.
The second she had lowered her defenses, Aylin's presence hurtled into our space. Her intrusion was familiar and she began to pull us back.
But another strength pulled us forward. I gripped Bryn's hand, tugging her backward, but it wasn't enough. She stumbled forward, battling between being with me — coming back to me — and being held in place.
Finally, the force snapped and she fell backward into my arms.
"Hmph." Aylin pulled harder, tugging us back.
The figurative wall shattered. Someone still lurked in the shadows and I stayed long enough to see who it was. Bleached blonde hair. Amber eyes with golden flecks sparkled. With a thunderous crash, light dissected the darkness. I narrowed my eyes. Well, I'll be damn.
Before I could approach my enemy, I fell backwards into the bedroom. Bryn was awake and safe beside me, still holding my hand.
"Whoa!" Aylin jumped in the air, holding up her right hand. "That was fun!"
Fun? I almost spit the word at Aylin. I had almost lost my mate to this bullshit. And who was pulling the strings? A beach bum baker. I needed to get Bryn somewhere safe. And we needed to complete the bond so we had a fighting chance against these rebels. I’d be damned if they killed my mate. Not on my watch.
I ran a soothing hand down her face, wishing I could hold her a little longer, but I needed to act quickly. The threat was too real and this incident solidified it.
"Bryn, get dressed and try to rest. In the morning, maybe you and Aylin can work on some magic training." I squeezed her arm and hoped she sought what little comfort I could offer. "Connor, you and I have some matters to address immediately." I walked from the room, not sparing another glance at my love.
***
It should have been impossible, but something had interfered. Mitchell stalked about his small apartment. The tiny rooms were closing in on him. He had failed! Master was not going to be happy.
Mitch was pretty sure that man with Bryn had seen him. He wiped sweat from his brow, grabbed the phone, and dialed. He waited three rings then slammed down the phone.
He waited. And waited.
Ring. Come on, ring. Damn it! He reached for the phone. Nope. Can't call again. Need to keep the line open.
When the phone didn't ring at the sixty-second mark, he resumed pacing. He darted between the furniture, avoiding the windows. Then he glanced at the phone.
Ring. He raced toward the shrill of the phone and picked up the receiver.
"What is going on? Mitchell, you know. Not. To. Use. This. Line." The chopped, high-pitched words prickled Mitch’s skin. "Especially during the day."
His shoulders slumped."Boss, something interfered with the transport. I failed."
"You can't fail. We need her for Phase Two." The voice lowered."We have alternative plans for a reason."
Mitch cringed at the malevolence tingeing each word. "I'm not sure if it will work. I think the male saw" — he gulped — "me."
"Make it work."
"Yes, Master."
"I told you. Never call me Master!" the voice shouted.
"Sorry — " but the click of the phone interrupted his apology. "Mansfield," Mitchell whispered.
Chapter Eight
The poison ran through Cassiel’s blood stream. Her power faded. Her hands hung limp against the manacles above her head. Her legs too weak to hold her, she wilted against the wall. The chains clanged in the quiet cell. Master, I hope you feel my pain. I hope you feel the poison flowing through your veins. I make you this promise: You will suffer before you die.
She forced crusty eyelids open. Tears blurred her vision. She wanted to die. The thought sent tranquility through her body.
Acceptance.
An end to the suffering. The physical pain she locked in a box that she refused to open. But the mental pain was harder to block.
She was prey — a continual food source of blood, power, and knowledge. And that left her with what? Nothing. How could she block nothingness? Emptiness?
She fell to her knees, pulling the chains taut against the wall.
The agonized faces of hundreds of men and women flickered through her mind.
AAHH! Stop! Their tortured screams trapped forever in her memory.
Master never showed mercy. Their bodies crumbled under his lust for blood, a consequence of his addictive powers. He had broken their souls. Tortured them until their power could no longer heal the damage he caused.
They had once been like her. Powerful. Full of magic.
But he drained their blood like a vampire. And when their power vanished, he killed them. How many murders had she witnessed over the past decade? She became someone who just existed, with no reason for being. The joy of life forever lost. Only a shell.
It's what I've become.
She was more skeleton than person; she had lost her humanity long ago. The anguish of the dungeon had sucked her dry. She had nothing left to give.
A curtain of dirty hair hid her damp face. She choked on the musty air. Her throat burned. Pinpricks of pain lanced her skin. Fire scorched through her bloodstream. Sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped down her face, joining her tears to form a puddle on the cement below.
The door creaked open. Feet shuffled across the stone floor.
She knew that gait.
Mansfield.
Since he had already drawn her blood, he shouldn’t enter again. Is my suffering finally at an end?
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heart skipped several beats. She cringed, praying the floor would swallow her whole.
A scarred hand lifted her chin, forcing her to look into soulless eyes. No hooded cloak obscured his features this time. Her mind exploded with the scream that caught in her throat. She opened her mouth, but still no sound escaped.
Gabriel!
Once she had screamed his name in the throes of passion. Now? She screamed in agony, loathing his existence.
Tears became sobs. She wanted to force every ounce of suffering into his soul until he wept as she did.
"What is wrong with you, witch?" He jerked her face left, then right.
The son of a bitch! She pulled back and lowered her eyes. Fire burned in her soul.
"
Look at me!" When she did not, he smacked her face. "Mansfield, what did you do to her?"
The servant's feet dragged across the floor. He placed two fingers on the side of her neck. A slight warmth spread through her. Recognizing his calming touch, she knew her pulse was thready, but would be strong again.
"But... but..." Mansfield stuttered.
Smack.
Mansfield staggered back a few steps. Blood spattered the floor, joining her puddle of tears.
Gabriel — the bastard — smiled. His smirk spread as Mansfield's nose bled.
Cassiel rattled the chains, but no protest came from the man who now called himself "Master."He might be Master to everyone else. To her he was Gabriel. At one time, her Gabriel.
Mansfield wiped his face. "She was fine. Nothing has changed in her care, Master."
"She cannot die on me." Master's voice quivered as he eyed her like a prized steak that had fallen on the floor.
Cassiel faced him head-on, refusing to look away or succumb to his evil glare.
"She is the power that sustains me. Fix this or you will face a death far worse than any I have given."
"Yes, Master." Mansfield bowed his head.
Gabriel’s scarred hand skimmed the length of her crescent moon. He had ordered her imprint removed years ago. Mansfield had tried every form of torture from burning to skinning, but her flesh healed and the moon reformed.
Strength and power prickled her skin seeking entrance into her soul. Hating his effect on her body, she wanted to fight his touch. Instead, Gabriel jerked back his hand.
You still feel our bond too! Her lips twitched, the only indication of her hidden smile. Blinded by power, he failed to realize that his death was the only way to remove her imprint. Will you go to such extremes to be free of your bond?
The answer didn’t matter. Her imprint would soon be gone, but not by her death.
"You have twenty-four hours to heal her and provide me with more blood." Gabriel stroked her hand once more. Cassiel fought the urge to cringe.
Only after the dungeon door slammed did she flinch.
She had never thought to recover from the tainted blood, but Gabriel's touch had caused her magic to grow. Fatigue, malnourishment, and now poison still held her captive.
Mansfield shambled into the hall. His head turned left and right. She could almost see his eyes searching the corridor. Then he walked back into the cell and shut the door.
With the click of the lock, his back straightened. With each step his frail state transformed. Gone was the apprehensive slave. In his place stood a man that Cassiel didn't recognize.
He held a hand over his nose and chanted under his breath. The bleeding stopped.
His dark, smoky eyes locked onto hers. He was not supposed to be a man of power. A man so direct. In the years she had known him, he'd never made direct eye contact with her.
With a clang, the bracelets around her wrists sprang open. She tumbled to the floor. Her nerve endings awakened. Vibrations of pained coursed through her body. She rubbed her sore wrists. Free. "Ah!"
The word weighed heavy on her heart. Could she every be?
She looked into the face of the only human she had seen in too long to count. He was like her. Trapped under Master’s control and, somehow, that steadied her. Mansfield’s features were strong and sure, unlike hers, and she grasped for him.
"Ssshhh." He moved a lock of hair from her face before he caressed her cheek. "You must stop poisoning your blood to kill him."
Her brain stumbled over his words, trying to make sense of his matter-of-fact assessment. She only managed a whispered, "How?"
He ignored her question and grabbed her hand. Her imprint heated with his touch. She tried to pull away, but he gripped tighter. "Trust me."
He smiled. She stared, stunned again. He seemed pure and kind; how could he serve Gabriel? She was a prisoner, yet he never tried to save her. Right now, he made her feel like a woman — a cherished woman.
She shuddered, because she had once loved another man — the one who now held her captive.
Now, Mansfield demanded she trust him. How? She sighed. What choice did she have?
He chanted in a slow, soothing cadence. Her muscles relaxed and her mind cleared. Each syllable brought new awareness into her body, awakening her from her drugged state.
An influx of emotions overtook her sluggish spirit. Faces. Screams. Death. But she lived!
"Stop!" Her feeble attempt to shout broke his rhythm and his chanting ceased.
She tried to seal her guilt within a tiny box, shoved to the deepest part of her brain, but it was trying to break free. She pushed back her feelings and slammed the lid. It hurt too bad to feel so much. She needed the intrusion to end.
Her heart ached.
"It's going to be okay."
But she remembered her captivity. She would never see her daughter. Nor could she bear to be the cause of more pain, more suffering.
Mansfield spoke gently, stroking the crescent moon. Its light flickered.
"What are you doing to me?" She trembled. Her remorse faded.
The imprint glowed with his continued touches. Power swam through her body like a lover's caress. Odd. Mansfield's reaction was similar to Gabriel. How can that be? Mansfield wasn't her soul mate. He wasn't hers to claim.
"I'm helping you to survive."
Her once-defeated, beaten, and crippled body began to heal from the outside in. The trace marks from years of needle pokes disappeared. Closing her eyes, she focused on the power surging through her body, on the glow of her skin as it healed.
Mansfield traced a path from her imprint, up her arm, to the side of her neck, and stopped at her pulse point. Magic followed his finger. Her heart flipped. Her stomach fluttered. Her gaze met his.
"The connection between the chosen two must be getting closer to completion." He smiled. "After waiting for years, it's finally happening. We will be free."
Free! The thought consumed her until it unlocked something she had sealed away long ago: her humanity.
She thought of her daughter, her coven, her life. She was on top of the world.
Cassiel struggled to her feet, and found that her balance and strength had returned. With the skill of a trained practitioner, she felt the power. Concentrating on inner balls of flame, she aligned each one until they united into one big orb of power. Then she released it, sending it out of her body and through the air like a rising bubble.
When the bubble popped, the links of the chains snapped apart. The waste bucket in the corner tipped over, spilling bile, piss, and other bodily fluids. The onslaught of noxious fumes stung her nose. Wishing them away, she waved her hands. Puff! The contents evaporated into thin air.
Free.
She was liberated. Strong.
She relished the power, but it was addicting and could be deadly, so she took care not to overindulge. She tamped down her endowments, returning to her normal state. With a huff she tried to untangle her mess of hair with her fingers.
"You're absolutely amazing." Mansfield took a step toward her.
Cassiel couldn't control the natural glow of her body and feared that her transformation would alert Gabriel. She just hoped that she could trust Mansfield. But what did she have to lose? It was either put her faith in him, or be stuck in this cell for the rest of her life.
She spit on the ground at the thought of Gabriel. Such a beautiful name for such an evil man. He had been no angel despite his angelic looks. Other than tonight, she hadn't seen him since the night she left him decades ago when she'd seen his intent the moment their bond was completed. Such a happy time had turned into a nightmare. His bright blue eyes transformed from those of love to hate. His soft facial features hardened. The power overtook him, made him strong, impure, and corrupt.
Mansfield cleared his throat, bringing her back to the present.
She blinked. He brought her trembling hands to his lips. Her imprint heated with his touch.
He ex
haled. The warmth of his breath heated her skin. She stepped closer. Her lips parted. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. The touch was electrifying.
She smiled. The unfamiliar use of her facial muscles felt strange. "What have you done to me?"
