B00XXAC6U6 EBOK

by Caris Roane

  He made his descent, landing by the front door. Once inside the center, the staff turned toward him with warm greetings. He put on his most casual face, not wanting to give anything away. He needed information and he was pretty sure a series of direct questions wouldn’t yield the results he was hoping for. Ben had chosen the Communication Center workers personally and each man here was loyal to him. As much as he wanted to lay it all out and explain what Ben had been up to, it would take way too long.

  He gave them some details about the battle at Margetta’s fortress and the subsequent evacuation of most of her army before the combined forces could engage. He added that he and Stone had a plan to bring all the mastyrs together to develop a major offensive against the Ancient Fae.

  The staff, made up of three fae and a garrulous troll named Scott, gave shouts with fists raised.

  When they’d settled down, he began his real inquiry with a ruse. “I’m working on a celebration feast for some of my staff with Ben as the guest of honor. He’s been an incredible asset to me over the years, as you all know, but I want to keep this on the down low. Can you promise to keep my visit here a secret as well as anything else we might discuss?”

  An effusive rush of ‘yes, mastyr’ followed.

  “Good.” All three waited in anticipation. “I’m thinking an event at the Hungry Troll. How does that sound? And free beer.”

  Another shout, along with nods of agreement and a couple of ‘hell, yeahs’, followed.

  For the next few minutes, he chatted about the arrangements. Seeing their eagerness and how relaxed each was, he added, “By the way. Any of you know where Ben is right now? He took off from the gorge saying he had business at one of his homes and I’ve been to each but can’t find him. I don’t suppose he’s checked in?”

  Each shook his head, except for Scott who had compressed his lips and looked ready to burst with information. Trolls excelled at gossip.

  Ian didn’t go to him first. Instead, he kept fishing. “I know he has a townhouse here, a small farm near Clarefield and a beach cottage to the south. Anywhere else I could look, maybe someplace few people know about?”

  The three fae shrugged their shoulders.

  Scott’s face had turned bright red from withholding information. For trolls, the sharing of any kind of news or details was one of the great pleasures in life.

  Ian didn’t press him, not in front of the others. Instead, he headed to the door. “I’m not too concerned. When he shows up, tell him to give me a shout.”

  He moved into the hallway, but only a few feet, and pretended to be checking emails on his cell. He was pretty sure the troll wouldn’t be far behind.

  The door to the Communication Center creaked open and Ian lifted his gaze to Scott. The troll closed the door behind him, then tip-toed over to Ian. He cast furtive glances left and right, but the hall was deserted. Scott would have made a terrible spy.

  Ian held his gaze. “I suspected you might have something to tell me.”

  The troll bounced from one foot to the next. “It’s something I figured out a while back. A friend of mine does contract work around Mercata and got a call to work on a property just north of there in the mountains. At first he wouldn’t tell me who his client was.”

  “And you learned it was Mastyr Ben?” Ian was pretty sure Ben would have wiped the workers’ minds the last day of construction. Ian said as much to the troll.

  Scott’s head bobbed. “Here’s the thing. My friend let Ben’s name slip over a couple of pints just two days before Mastyr Ben took care of his memory. I’ve remained silent, because Ben ought to have his privacy.” He then shifted his gaze away from Ian and chewed on his thick lower lip.

  “There’s more, isn’t there? As in you might know how to get there?”

  Scott nodded, but this time he looked guilty as hell.

  Ian patted his shoulder. “I won’t tell Ben how I found his home, I promise. But I really need to talk to him. It’s about Margetta, something he should know.”

  With the mention of the Ancient Fae and a hint this might have something to do with the ongoing war, Scott’s expression lightened. “I followed him home one night,” he confessed. “I know it was wrong. But when he took his car instead of flying, I couldn’t help myself.” Very troll.

  Ian addressed the only important issue. He knew where Mercata was, but he wanted confirmation. “So, we’re talking the Venaset Range?”

  “Yes. Not far from the hamlet of Warrejet.” He then gave detailed directions that sent Ian’s heartrate skyrocketing.

  “Don’t worry about Ben. I won’t reveal my source. Okay?”

  When Scott returned to the center, Ian levitated along the hall then shoved the front door wide. He hit the skies once more.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d told so many lies. Not that he cared. Right now, he needed to get to Regan before Ben bonded with her. Nothing else mattered.

  He flew as fast as he could to the east, to Mercata. But what would he find once he arrived?

  ~ ~ ~

  Sitting on the side of Ben’s bed, Regan worked hard to hold her meditative state. She found that as long as she stayed there, she was impervious to the bond Ben was attempting to forge.

  The problem was he’d taken to hurting her in an attempt to bring her back.

  He slapped her again, hard across the face. She fell to her side, then righted herself, yet somehow her meditation held. Ben’s mating vibration once more flowed through her body, hunting for hers. But the meditation allowed her to keep it hidden.

  For the moment, she was safe but it was only a reprieve. Each strike of his hand became more painful, more jarring. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he discovered that with enough force he could disrupt her concentration completely.

  At the same time, she had to battle her own powerful desire to rise like a geyser and embrace Ben with both arms. The urge, because she was a blood rose, was nearly overwhelming. She’d felt the same way with Stone when he’d arrived unexpectedly at Ian’s gorge house.

  Ben’s voice rolled through the room. “Come back to me, Regan. I don’t want to hurt you, but I need you.”

  The core of her being shuddered with a compulsion to do what he asked of her. Regardless, she remained very still, keeping her mind quiet, and sublimating her blood rose drive.

  The next blow was so hard, however, she fell off the side of the bed and landed face down on the floor. He straddled her next then pulled on her hair, forcing her head up and back.

  The combination of factors, of having been struck to the floor and the agony of her hair being pulled had its effect. Her meditative state vanished. She was fully present in the bedroom now and his mating vibration hummed deep inside her chest.

  When her own mating frequency responded, she cried out telepathically. Ian, help me! I can’t hold out any longer.

  Because she’d used telepathy, Margetta’s spell struck as though an axe severed her skull. She screamed in pain.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ian heard Regan’s telepathic cry for help at the same moment he arrived at the Venaset Mountains. He doubled his speed, whipping through the troll’s directions. He found Ben’s driveway set back from the main road, just as Scott had described it.

  When he levitated about fifteen feet up the drive, however, he felt a powerful compulsion to turn and leave the property. A spell prevented any Realm-person from simply walking up to the house. He couldn’t see much of anything, either, except a lot of forest. He felt confused as well, more indications a spell was at work.

  Ian again remembered Regan’s method of deep focus. He closed his eyes, and forced himself to continue up the hill. He brought his battle energy forward and faced his palms toward what felt like a tangled net of a spell. He thought it surprising he could discern the nature of the formula, almost thorny and angry, but with numerous holes. He’d learned a lot from Regan.

  He had the impression that whoever had concocted this spell had been pissed off and i
n a hurry. He realized then just how much he’d shared with Regan when she’d broken down Margetta’s spell.

  As he centered his thoughts on the spell, he discovered its weakness and he brought his battle energy flowing into his right palm.

  Opening his eyes, his mind once more felt confused as though he didn’t know what he was looking at. But that was a result of being in the middle of the spelled territory. He opened his hand and fired a quick array toward the thorny spell.

  He watched as his blue battle energy popped and sparked in several places, sending smoke into the air.

  When the rest of Ben’s driveway came into view, Ian knew he’d broken the spell.

  He flew swiftly up to the house.

  Before he even opened the front door, he heard Regan’s screams. His fangs emerged as he followed the sound of her pain to what was a back room, probably a bedroom.

  He shoved the door wide.

  When he saw Ben sitting astride Regan, pulling on her hair, a red hue of rage covered Ian’s eyes. Ben looked euphoric as well, a strong clue that he was a split-second away from forging the blood rose bond with Regan. He could sense both their mating bonds swirling and tightening.

  He levitated then flipped to a horizontal position. He flew above Ben, caught his shoulders, pulled him off Regan and slammed him into the wood bedframe. Ben slumped sideways, though lifting his head and shaking it.

  Ian returned to Regan, intending to pick her up and get her out of there. But the next moment, Ben was on him and had Ian in a choke hold.

  Ian thought he’d be able to break free easily since he had more essential muscle mass than Ben. But he caught the scent of Regan’s blood and knew that it now flowed through Ben. He was powered as never before.

  Ian grabbed Ben’s arm, but he couldn’t break the hold on his neck.

  The next thing he knew, Regan was in front of him, her hands settled on his forearms. Power surged through him. A moment later, she quickly backed away, tucking herself next to the bedside table.

  Ian stepped forward with his right foot and at the same time, twisted slightly. Using his left elbow, he smashed into Ben’s ribs.

  Ben loosened his grip, grunting in response.

  Ian grabbed Ben’s left arm, and using his fangs, ripped into his muscle and tore out a chunk of his forearm.

  Ben shouted in pain, then levitated backward several feet almost to the wall by the bathroom. He held his arm with his other hand, clearly healing the wound. He was doing it fast, too, another powerful side effect of Regan’s blood.

  After a moment, Ben lowered his shoulders and knees, getting into a combat position once more.

  Ian spoke to Regan. “Get yourself someplace safe. I’ll finish this.”

  Regan moved swiftly to stand near the door by the dresser, but she didn’t leave. “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll see this through together.”

  He could tell she meant it, but what she thought she could do, he couldn’t imagine.

  “Need a woman’s help?” Ben sneered.

  For a moment, Ian got lost in the thousands of memories of the man in front of him. He didn’t recognize this version of Ben, the dark look in his eye, the way his nostrils flared, the cruel line of his mouth. “Were you pretending all those years? By all the elf lords, I never knew you.”

  “No, you didn’t. You ruled Camberlaune. You never thought about me or what my life was like constantly in your shadow. Women flocked to you and gave me a cursory glance because I didn’t have your weight, your power.”

  “You’ve done all this because of jealousy? How many have you had murdered, Ben, solidifying your position?”

  A diabolical expression descended on his features, his eyes red-rimmed and bright. “Over a thousand, counting all the realms. And one more tonight.”

  Ben launched, a blur of motion Ian barely saw coming. Because of the strange movement, Ian knew some other force was at work.

  Another spell.

  Ben slammed into his chest this time, forcing Ian hard against the bedside table. Ben lifted Ian up with a hand beneath his arm, then punched him in the face repeatedly with his right fist.

  Ian’s head jerked back with each blow. He couldn’t breathe and his brain was a mess because of the spell. But he’d been a warrior a long time and swept his leg behind Ben, knocking him off balance. As a result, Ben let go of him and fell to the floor.

  The room was small for two big bodies. Ian moved toward the foot of the bed as Ben lifted up off the floor, levitating. Ian saw a flash of something, but he didn’t know what it was. Shit, did he have dagger on him?

  Once more, Ian’s head grew clouded because of the added spell and he didn’t see Ben coming until Ian felt a cut across his abdomen.

  He looked down. Ben had sliced him, yet didn’t penetrate the muscle, though he could have.

  “I’m taking you down, Ian, one cut at a time. And I’ll enjoy every second of it.”

  Ian stumbled as he saw the blur once more. He felt a burn over his right shoulder, then his left. But his mind wasn’t working at all.

  The next cut was low at his waist. He didn’t even see movement of any kind this time. He dropped to his knees. “Regan … run.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Regan had been right not to leave. Ben had activated a latent spell, something with Margetta’s signature all over it.

  She’d dropped into her meditation with the first cut of Ben’s dagger. She’d had no doubt what would happen next since the spell was messing with Ian’s mind and making it impossible for him to function.

  She could feel the formula, its intricacies and again its beauty. But she didn’t have time to construct a counter-spell. Ian would be long dead before she could lift the veil of the spell so that Ian could battle Ben on an equal footing. With so much blood already pouring out of him, he’d be too weak to fight.

  Ian had dropped to his knees holding his stomach as Ben moved in behind him. He slid a hand beneath Ian’s chin, exposing his throat. He brought the blade up to his neck, smiling. She barely recognized the monster ready to kill a man he’d known for centuries and fought beside almost as long.

  She couldn’t let Ian die, but what could she do? She remembered what it had been like to share the blood tattoos with him. Each time he’d battled, she’d been with him and had felt how he did what he did. On instinct, she warmed up her battle frequency.

  She centered herself on his warrior-ness and without giving it too much thought levitated, then rolled in the air in order to come up behind Ben. At the same time, she brought her battle energy into her palm. The moment she made contact with Ben’s skull, she let her power flow.

  He hadn’t expected the blow. He turned toward her, a surprised look in his eye, then crumpled unconscious to the floor, his knife still gripped in his hand.

  Regan dropped down beside Ian who sat on his knees and leaned against the bed. His complexion was pale and his eyes were closed. Blood poured from his cuts. She checked his throat first, but she’d been in time; there was only a small wound.

  He would live.

  For now, she focused on bringing forward her healing energy and letting it flow. But just as his wounds were almost sealed up, a golden light suddenly filled the bedroom and it wasn’t good.

  “What the hell is this?” Margetta shouted. “Ben just pathed me saying he’d taken Ian out.”

  Regan shrugged. “Guess he didn’t count on me.”

  Margetta narrowed her eyes, her lips curling in disgust. “The only thing I hate more than an imbecile is a smart ass.”

  The Ancient Fae lifted a white hot palm to Regan. “Now let’s find out which hurts more, the spell in your head or my battle power.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Ian came to full consciousness abruptly because Regan was screaming. She was in pain. He opened his eyes a little, but didn’t move. He needed to know what kind of attack was in progress before taking action. Was Ben hurting her?

  But the golden light he could see told him it was worse tha
n that. Margetta was here.

  And he couldn’t path Regan because of the spell still shielding her telepathic abilities.

  He forced himself to ignore the level of pain Regan was in and once more modeled her meditative process in order to quickly analyze the situation. More importantly, he only had a few seconds to figure out what to do.

  His own pain, since he was still healing, he ignored.

  That’s when he felt something touching his chest, a vibration so at odds with the external battle, he wasn’t sure he understood what it was.

  Then he knew: Regan was sharing her mating vibration, touching his chest, asking for entrance. And she had a very specific plan in place.

  Brilliant!

  His corresponding frequency rose almost without having to form the thought. He also knew what this meant: he’d be forging a bond with her, the blood rose bond. With it, they’d each gain a tremendous boost in power.

  For a couple of seconds, he hesitated. He wanted to ask her if she was sure. But he knew Regan. She wouldn’t have come to him like this without having already made up her mind.

  And more than anything else in the world, he wanted to bond with her.

  He opened himself wide. The moment his vibration touched hers, he let his love for her flow, all that he’d held back for such a long time. Despite her physical agony, her mating vibration hummed against his, getting stronger and stronger.

  He could feel the bond begin to form, a tightening of his energy with hers. His mind filled with an extraordinary light until at last the frequencies joined and the bond solidified. The same light exploded within his mind, power flowing through him in massive bursts.

  He heard a shrieking sound and recalled that while Margetta was the Ancient Fae, she was also part wraith and had assumed that form now.

  He opened his eyes and rose up. Margetta hung in the air, a wild, euphoric expression on her face. She was in her wraith form, wearing the traditional gown of red gauze. Gold streams of her battle power flowed over Regan, causing her enormous pain.