by Shea Balik
What Lucca said was true but it didn’t stop Kirill from hating himself for letting it happen.
“If anybody knows what you’re going through, it’s me,” Lucca said. “But if you have any hope of helping Harper through this, you have to find a way to give yourself a break. Hating yourself is only going to get between you two and right now, whether he knows it or not, he’s going to need you to help him survive this.”
Kirill wasn’t sure that was true, but he knew Lucca was right about one thing, he had to be there for his mate, no matter what. If it meant shoving the overwhelming guilt that was threatening to drown him as far inside as possible, then that was what he’d do. Kirill wasn’t about to let Harper down again.
“We have bigger problems than just his mental state right now.” Nole had been working feverishly on Harper since they’d arrived. Each curse from Nole had been like a knife plunging into Kirill’s heart for he knew the news wouldn’t be good.
“Harper has sustained a lot of injuries.”
Kirill had to stop himself from growling at the obvious statement. Nole didn’t deserve Kirill’s anger when he’d done nothing but try to help but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear the clearly apparent observations.
“Uh, little mouse, maybe you should just rip the bandage off, so to speak.” Edrick moved to stand next to his mate. His stance was protective as if he was aware just how on edge Kirill was at the moment. “I’m sure Kirill would appreciate you not wasting time.”
Nole glanced up at his mate with a scowl. “It’s not wasting time.”
This time Kirill couldn’t stop the growl that rumbled in his chest.
Nole’s gaze swung to Kirill, his eyes wide as saucers. “Right.” When Nole swallowed audibly, Kirill felt bad, although not bad enough to apologize. “Harper’s injuries are severe enough to possibly kill him.”
No.
Kirill had to grab ahold of the edge of the bed to keep himself from falling to his knees. “Please don’t let him die,” Kirill pleaded with Nole. Just saying those words leached any strength he had left from his body.
His knees hit the floor, putting his chest even with the top of the gurney. Harper’s too pale hand was there in front of him and he bent down to place a kiss against his cool skin. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispered to his mate, not sure if Harper could even hear him.
“I’m not about to let him die,” Nole chastised. “But I need you to start the mating process.”
“No.” The word was automatic. Kirill wasn’t about to hurt his mate more by having sex with him without his consent. If Nole had punched him, Kirill didn’t think he’d have been more shocked by what he’d wanted from Kirill. “I’m not having sex with Harper when he’s injured.” He looked at his mate’s beautiful, yet bruised, face. “Or unconscious. I’m not hurting him further.”
Nole rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to have sex with him. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
Not quite sure how to answer that since Nole had clearly said he wanted Kirill to start the mating process, he continued to kneel there, waiting for Nole to explain. Needing to connect with his mate in some way, Kirill gently placed his hand over Harper’s. It wasn’t much but there weren’t too many places on Harper’s body he could touch without causing his mate more harm.
“Sex is only part of the mating process. I need you to bite him, then feed him your blood.”
Kirill recoiled at the idea of mating with Harper while he was unconscious. It went against everything he stood for. Mating was a sacred act, one that couldn’t be undone. What if Harper didn’t want him? Or worse. What if Harper died? Mates, especially those without children, didn’t tend to survive once one of the pair died. Then again, would he want to live knowing Harper was dead?
“How will this help him?” He would do it if it helped. Who was he kidding? He’d walk through the depths of hell if there was any chance of easing some of Harper’s suffering.
Nole shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know it will. But he needs to want to get better for his body to start healing as it should.” The sadness in Nole’s voice wasn’t something Kirill wanted to hear. As their doctor, Nole needed to be more optimistic. “Even though the mating won’t be complete, I’m hoping it will be enough to keep Harper from allowing himself to die.”
Kirill closed his eyes. The despair he’d been trying not to allow to the surface was forcing itself to be known. Unsure he was making the right choice, Kirill prayed for guidance.
But it wasn’t the Gods who answered him, it was Nole. “If he doesn’t find a will to survive soon, his body is going to start shutting down. Plus, it’s been proven in the field that the blood of a mate helps boost the body’s ability to heal.”
Decision made, Kirill opened his eyes. If it meant saving Harper, Kirill really didn’t have a choice. “Leave us.” He wasn’t about to let anyone witness one of the most intimate acts between mates. It was bad enough he wasn’t giving Harper a say in this.
When he heard the door shut, Kirill sighed and stood staring at Harper’s bruised and battered body. The need to save Harper overrode all other doubts about what he was about to do. Not having his mate in his life was just not an option. “I pray you’ll find it in your heart to understand I had no real choice,” he whispered.
Leaning down, he lightly brushed his mouth over Harper’s red, chapped lips. “I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want.”
Not giving himself any more time to reconsider his decision, Kirill sank his canines into Harper’s shoulder. His eyes rolled in his head as he drank his mate’s sweet, tangy blood.
Something inside of him snapped into place as if he’d finally found home. It took more resolve than he would have thought needed to extract his teeth from Harper’s body. He had wanted to stay connected for all eternity, but Harper couldn’t afford to lose too much blood, so he forced himself to release his mate.
His gaze went right to the mating mark. The mix of pride that Harper wore his mark and remorse that it had to be done this way warred inside of him. This wasn’t how a mating should happen, yet Kirill couldn’t find it within himself to regret his actions. If it meant Harper living, healing, he’d do it all over again.
Biting into his wrist, Kirill placed it to Harper’s lips. He hadn’t been sure he’d be able to get enough blood into his mouth this way, but as his life-giving fluid dripped onto Harper’s tongue, his mate’s lips latched onto his wrist.
Harper drank deeply as if he couldn’t get enough. Kirill’s cock hardened painfully but he refused to give into the need to come. He might have had to take this moment away from his mate, but he’d be damned if he derived any pleasure out of it.
That connection he’d felt moments before bloomed, even more, filling Kirill with joy and a bone-deep despair. The joy was from him but the other…he felt tears run down his face when he realized it was coming from Harper. His mate wanted to die.
That wasn’t something Kirill was sure they could survive.
CHAPTER 5
No!
Harper wanted to scream at the Gods for letting him wake up again.
“Please wake up, my petal.” That voice that had been there earlier was back.
Try as he might, Harper couldn’t place the deep sound as belonging to any of Abdiel’s men. He just wished he understood why he wanted to get closer to the sound when running in the other direction was his safest course of action.
Not that he was in any shape to run. Harper wasn’t even sure he could walk at this point.
“Open your eyes, Harper.” That voice he knew. It was the reason his brother had started giving him to the guards to use as their personal trophy.
It took some effort, but Harper managed to force his eyelids apart to stare into the face of someone he’d hoped to never have to see again. Nole Hayward.
“I–” Harper silently cursed when his voice refused to cooperate.
“Here,” Nole reached for something. Then there was a straw placed a
t his lips. “After all that screaming, I imagine your throat is still pretty sore.”
Harper considered refusing the drink but figured the only person he’d be hurting was himself. He gave an internal sigh the moment the cool water hit his parched throat. Able to speak, he glared at Nole. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
Nole reared back as if he’d been slapped.
Good. Asshole deserves to be hit – hard.
“But...” Nole didn’t finish whatever he’d been about to say. Instead, he gave a nod. “If that’s what you want, I’ll leave. You’re healed enough to move around but I suggest you take it easy for the next few days.”
Harper watched as the man who had caused the hell his life had become left the room with another man, who walked with the grace of a cat. Great. Somehow Harper had gone from the hell of being repeatedly raped by his own kind to a home with cats in it. Talk about going from the frying pan to the fire.
It wasn’t until the door closed that Harper even realized there was someone else in the room. Turning his head, Harper felt his heart race as his gaze landed on the sexiest man he’d ever laid eyes on, sitting next to his bed.
Thick blonde hair, so light it was nearly white, hung down to the man’s broad shoulders. The urge to run his hands through the soft looking strands had his fingers curling inward, except…Harper looked down at his hand to find large hands gently holding his.
He gazed at the sight of the man holding him as if Harper were something fragile, which, considering the man’s hands were twice the size of Harper’s, he was quite frail in comparison. Then again, a giant would look like a porcelain doll next to this man.
Saying the man was large didn’t begin to describe the sheer size of this guy. Enormous, gigantic, mammoth came close, but even then, Harper didn’t think it did him justice. His muscles had muscles. The sky-blue shirt that matched his eyes perfectly strained to keep its stitches intact each time he moved.
If he hadn’t seen the man move, breathe, or felt the warmth of his flesh against his, Harper would swear he was a statue chiseled out of marble. He was perfection. So, what was this stranger doing sitting next to someone like Harper, holding his hand?
“Who are you?” he whispered, not sure he wanted to know the answer. For as fascinated he was by this man, he was still a man. Harsh experience had taught Harper they only wanted one thing, and he just didn’t think he ever wanted another man to touch him ever again. Even if he was every one of Harper’s fantasies come true.
“Kirill Hunt.” The deep voice Harper had heard begging him to wake up sank into him, warming him from the inside out.
Less than a heartbeat later, ice formed in his veins. Tugging his hand free of Kirill’s, he asked, “Are you the reason I wasn’t allowed to die?”
Those sky-blue eyes went from cautious to heartbroken. For a moment, Harper had the desire to apologize for his outburst, but he couldn’t. No. He wouldn’t. Being forced to live with what happened to him wasn’t something he’d wanted.
“You’re my mate. I couldn’t let you die.” There was anguish in Kirill’s voice but Harper didn’t care. He only knew he’d have to face every single day with the knowledge that he’d been raped, not once, but daily, for the past five years.
Anger boiled in his veins. “So, what I wanted wasn’t significant to you. It’s good to know I ended up with a mate who treats me the same as all those men who raped me did. Like I don’t matter.”
The rage continued to grow until Harper felt as if he were going to explode with it. “Get out. I don’t ever want to see you again.” When Kirill looked unsure what to do, Harper sat up, ignoring the pain that tore through him at the sudden move. “I said get out,” he screamed while pointing at the door.
With obvious reluctance, Kirill stood up. The sorrow he wore like a heavy cloak nearly had Harper stopping him, but he forced himself to remain silent. He had no idea why the desire for Kirill to stay close was so strong, but Harper wasn’t about to let anyone close enough to use him again.
If he never touched another living soul again it would be too soon. So why, when Kirill closed the door behind him, did Harper’s chest feel as if his heart had been ripped out?
Refusing to give in to his need to call Kirill back, Harper pushed the sheet that had been covering him off. Mortified to find himself naked under the thin material when there had been three men in the room moments before, Harper looked around, relieved to find a shirt and pair of sweatpants on a chair in the corner.
It took longer than he’d hoped to get them on, but at least he had been able to do it himself. Damn it. Whereas he was glad to not have to call someone in to help him, it also meant he was very much on the mend and wouldn’t be dying anytime soon.
A tear slid down his cheek. Angrily, he wiped it away. He wasn’t going to let those assholes make him cry. Not if he could help it. Wasn’t it enough that they’d taken his pride? His self-worth? His hope?
Harper would be damned if he’d let them take anything more from him. He just wished that was all it took to believe that.
CHAPTER 6
“I’m not going to let you die,” Kirill yelled at Harper. “No matter how much you beg me.” He went to grab his mate around the shoulders to shake him but stopped himself when he saw Harper shy away from him.
All that anger instantly deflated as guilt ate at him for yelling at Harper. “I’m sorry, but you’re my mate. I just can’t...” Words failed him as he thought of what he’d just witnessed.
He’d entered the one-story house Chadwick and some of the others had fixed up enough to live in so Harper would have a place to recover to find his mate holding a knife to his wrist. Kirill had gone ballistic and thrown the knife out the window before Harper had even known he was there. Thank the Gods for his ability to enter any room without being heard.
It was a skill he’d learned as a young child. His father had been a violent man, one who preferred to use his fists and ask questions later. To avoid being hit, he and his sister, Amarita, had worked day and night to make as little noise as possible.
Unfortunately, his sister hadn’t mastered it soon enough. At the age of fourteen, she had made the mistake of stepping on the one board that had started creaking. Their father, high as a kite on la pequeña muerte, backhanded Amarita. She’d gone flying across the room, her head smacking into the stone fireplace. The next day, before the sun rose, Kirill left and never returned.
Those lessons on stealth had served him well over the years, but never had he been so thankful as he was that moment for them. But it had been Harper’s indignation of Kirill once more taking the decision from Harper that had truly pissed him off.
“It’s not your decision,” Harper screamed at him. “Do you have any idea what it’s like? Every single second of every single day I can feel their hands on me, smell their breath, hear their cruel words about what they’re going to do to me.”
Kirill took a step toward his mate as his arms ached to hold Harper, to let him know he would never let anyone harm him again, but Harper jumped back, the stark fear entering those brown eyes stopping Kirill from coming any closer. He hated what his mate was going through and desperately wanted to make things better, but he just didn’t know how.
“Please, my petal, I just want to hold you,” he begged even knowing Harper would never allow the touch.
A harsh laugh escaped those plump lips Kirill dreamed of kissing. “You want? What about what I want?” As if unable to hold himself still any longer, Harper moved so the island in the middle of the kitchen was between them. “Or doesn’t that matter?”
“Of course, it matters,” Kirill argued, wishing his mate didn’t feel the need to put a physical barrier between them. “You’re my mate.”
Harper slammed his hands on the hard wood surface of the island, the sound echoing in the mostly empty room. He tried to cover up how much it hurt, but there was nothing about his mate Kirill missed. “Then you should have let me die.”
It was the
same argument they’d been having for the past few days as Harper healed. Each time a part of Kirill’s soul withered up and died to hear how much his mate didn’t want to live. He feared, if something didn’t change soon, mates or not, they would never find happiness.
When he saw Harper tuck his hand against his body, Kirill knew he’d hurt it far more than his mate wanted to admit. “Let me go get Nole so he can look at your hand.”
Hatred blazed from those brown eyes. “No. That man is not to come near me.”
“He’s the only one capable of looking at it,” Kirill argued. He didn’t know why Harper hated Nole so much since his mate refused to tell him, but he also wasn’t about to let him continue to be so stubborn. “You don’t have to like him, just let him look.”
“No,” Harper said before stomping to the back of the house and slamming shut the door to his bedroom.
Kirill was getting used to it. It was how all their talks ended.
****
Needing some air, Kirill headed to the house Edrick and his friends lived in. Harper may not want Nole to look at his hand but Kirill wasn’t about to let his mate suffer because of his stupid pride.
Silently entering the main house, he heard Jari say, “And I was wondering if we could fix up one of the buildings in town as a diner. That way I could feed more of Kirill’s men.”
“You want us to work on the town when we don’t even have houses built for everyone?” Edrick asked incredulously.
Kirill hung back, not wanting to interrupt.
He heard Chadwick answer. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. It’s going to take us months to get enough homes built to at least put a roof over everyone’s head. In the meantime, we will need the town to start providing some of our basic requirements if we don’t want to have to keep going into the surrounding towns for supplies and chance getting seen by your father or hunters.”
“Yeah, but don’t we owe it to Kirill’s men to provide them with housing first?” Hudson asked.
