by M. D. Grimm
My voice rose and my magick rose with it. It sparked around me, pulsing through the air. Lazylin jerked back as if I’d hit him. I advanced, causing him to retreat. “Do you remember the broken bones? My screams of pain? The humiliation and degradation that bastard subjected me to?” I was shouting now, my magick blazing hot inside me.
“Do any of you remember that?” I bellowed, the house shaking on its foundation. Olyvre grimaced as Lyli suddenly screamed. He left us to run to her room. My brothers shrank away from me, and I felt nothing but triumph, power, but also the all-consuming need to punish them. They had to know my pain.
“I do!” Fire erupted from my hands and traveled up my arms, white hot and shining. “And I will never forget. I will never forgive.”
I suddenly felt Aishe’s hand against my back. I turned on him, snarling. He merely looked at me, his face calm, his eyes direct. “Morgorth.” Just that, just my name. I swallowed hard, and it felt like acid burned my throat.
I closed my eyes and calmed the magick with great reluctance. The fire vanished and the magick settled into my core. It was a struggle and it hurt, like being sliced with trulbar claws, but I would gain nothing from my anger. Not yet, anyway. My father was the cause of all this, and he was the source I had to kill. My brothers deserved punishment—oh, did they—but that wasn’t my mission. Not this time.
When I opened my eyes, Olyvre was back, holding a wide-eyed Lyli. She clutched at her father, most of her face buried against his chest. He patted her back, rocking gently back and forth. I tried to speak but couldn’t, a strange guilt forming. I only stared at him. He must have seen the apology in my eyes because he smiled slightly, nodded.
This exchange wasn’t lost on Lazylin. He was deathly pale, his eyes glassy with shock, but he was of such a temperament, he lashed out when he was afraid. He scowled at Olyvre.
“You choose this scum over us, then?” He shoved Olyvre hard, causing him to stumble and Lyli screamed again. He kept hold of his daughter as they slammed into the wall.
“Are you mad?” Olyvre said.
Lazylin advanced on him but he didn’t get more than a step before I smashed him with pure force. My brother slammed into the wall, and I held up my right hand, keeping him there. He couldn’t move, and the pressure was so intense, he could barely breathe. Crystif and Alyin shrank away from me, darting glances around the room.
I approached my brother. He looked quite terrified. Good.
“Don’t ever touch him again,” I said clearly, my voice cold enough to freeze the air...which was exactly what was happening. What the fuck? I subdued my surprise but I still felt it. The room turned cold, frost forming on the furniture, the walls, the carpet. Our breaths began to mist. It felt exactly the same as when I’d fought Drasyln. But why now? I’d tried to duplicate it since then without success. It wasn’t a spell, I knew that. I wasn’t consciously doing it. I had words for spells dealing with ice or frost, but I’d not said them. That was scary. My body began to absorb the heat, wrapping around my bones, warming my skin. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Olyvre and Aishe began to shiver, and they seemed to have trouble breathing.
I turned by full attention back to my brother. “You need to learn your place, Lazylin. You are no longer the biggest bully on the field. I am. I’m a mage, you sod, the seventh son of a seventh son. Did you forget what that means? I can break your bones with a thought, make you bleed out of every orifice. I can twist you inside-out. I can tear you into pieces so small, it would be as if your body had disappeared.”
He was so pale it was as if I could see right through him. In some ways, I could. I knew exactly who and what he was now. “Remember this, oh brother mine. Let it be etched into your brain. I never want to see your face again. I never want you to bother Olyvre again. Is that perfectly understood?”
He made a choking sound. I took it as a yes. I released him, and he fell to the floor, gasping, trembling. He curled into the fetal position as I turned around, my back to him. He was no longer important. I’d made him nothing. Memories of his abuse faded, and he no longer held any terror for me. I took that victory with pride.
“If you want the same treatment,” I said, turning my attention to my two other brothers. “Please, continue to annoy me.”
I deliberately kept my voice cold, my tone calm and reasonable. But I stopped freezing the room, somehow shutting off the absorption of heat. At least I knew how to stop it even if I didn’t know what it was. The air instantly grew warmer and everyone could breathe easy again. Why was my heat absorption affecting the breathability of the air as well?
Crystif and Alyin cowered against the wall, staring at me in obvious fear. There was silence in the small cottage for a significant amount of time, all of us staring at each other, the air humming with tension and barely constrained violence on my part. Crystif was the first to recover and pushed himself from the wall. He visibly trembled but met my eyes directly.
“I’m ashamed of Lazylin’s words and actions,” he said calmly, though his voice shook. “You were right to escape. Our father was a monster. I’m not your enemy.”
I tilted my head slightly, considering him. “I’ll take that under consideration.”
Crystif nodded and slowly walked around me to Lazylin. He knelt down and patted his shoulder. I looked back to Alyin who still hadn’t moved.
“And you, Alyin? Are you my enemy?”
He gulped and shook his head. I wasn’t convinced but at least I’d given him something to think about. I avoided looking at Aishe and instead looked at Olyvre. He too, stared at me in shock.
“You all right?”
He nodded mutely.
“We should leave. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Right,” he said, his voice nearly a squeak.
I finally looked at Aishe. His face was blank, I couldn’t read it. I began to walk to the door but then stopped, turned around. “How did you know I was here?”
Crystif answered, “My daughter works at the inn you’re staying at. She heard your name spoken and told me about it. I knew Olyvre had sent you a letter, so I suspected it was you.”
I nodded. It was odd, I didn’t remember much about Crystif. He wasn’t one to torment me. That was primarily the job of my father and two eldest brothers. Crystif had been quiet, reserved, usually taking care of our mother.
We left, untied the horses, and rode back to Illum in silence.
Chapter Seven
Aishe
I didn’t know what to think. My mind was filled to bursting with parts of conversations and imagery. I looked at my mate as we entered our room. Morgorth had even scared me. I gave him time, knowing I needed some time for myself. I stripped and got into the bed, but Morgorth stood by the window looking out, his eyes shadowed by the candlelight. I shivered. It reminded me of the night he told me about his past and the horrors he’d committed. I sat, waiting, but when he made no move to join me, I finally spoke.
“Morgorth? I... How can I help you?”
He stirred slightly but still kept his gaze fixed out the window. He whispered, “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think, what to feel.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Part of me is glad I came, glad I confronted them. But still... I wish I hadn’t.”
I held out my hand. “Morgorth, you need rest. Please come to bed.”
He shook his head. He opened his eyes and leaned on the windowsill, his gaze fixed on the outside. “I’d managed to forget, Aishe. Most of it. Most of the details. But now I can’t help but remember. Lazylin made me remember. I was nearly ill, Aishe, in Olyvre’s cottage, when that bastard called me Lazur. Ill and so fucking scared. But I got past it and I defeated him. A small victory but there all the same. But my grievances toward him are so minor compared to my hatred for my father.”
He paused. I saw him take a conscious, deep breath. “All those scars on my skin, I can tell you exactly when and where I got them. I can tell you how many times he held my head under water, how many times h
e made me crawl through the mud in a storm. I can tell you I was tied to the house, left outside during a thunderstorm when I was but four years old. I was whipped, beaten, my bones broken. I can describe, in exquisite detail, the nausea and greasy waves of pain that comes with having my arm bone snapped. I was prodded with pokers, cut with knives, and beaten with fists. I was burned with his pipe and kicked with his feet. I was degraded, yelled at, ordered around, forced to watch others eat while I starved.”
Tears rained down my face. I couldn’t stop them. I tried to be silent and had to cover my mouth with my hand. My tears wouldn’t help him.
“He controlled me. He made me dependent on him. I understand his form of training. He tried to break me so I could be used by him. I would simply obey. He would point and I would shoot.”
He stopped and dropped his head, hunched his shoulders. I couldn’t stand it. I stood, shivering at the cold air coming from the open window. I gingerly touched his back, almost fearing he would shatter in my hands. He didn’t cry and that was even more heartbreaking. His pain was beyond tears. Was there anything more devastating than watching your strong, spirited mate descend into despair? At my touch he swayed, unbalanced. I wrapped my arms around him and he pressed into me. He needed to remember everything, he needed to confront it, if he had any hope of facing his father. I had no doubt he could, nor did I doubt his strength and courage. But he needed to understand his feelings and control them before that time came. I cried as he leaned heavily into me. When he finally lifted his head, I saw his shadowed eyes; they were so bleak, devastated. Dry as desert sand. But his face was so pale, sickly pale. His eyes held mine for a moment before he looked away.
“You have to be freezing.” He pushed me back to the bed and began to strip slowly. I watched him, chagrined when my body stirred. It was amazing no matter what the crisis or dilemma, I was always ready for him. I moved over, and he slid into the bed, lying down, his arm over his eyes. I lay down on my side next to him, waiting.
“Could you do something for me, Aishe?”
“Anything.”
He lowered his arm, looked at me. “Could you...explain why you love me? What do you see in me?” His soft brown eyes pleaded with me, and I realized his self-worth, his confidence, had taken a hard knock the moment we arrived in the kingdom of Zentha.
“I don’t think it works like that.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I love you, because I love you. I can’t explain it and I can’t justify it. It’s...it’s like a part of who I am. It always has been.” I cupped his face, rubbing my thumb over his prickly skin. He needed to shave. “If I could show you my heart, it would have your name written all over it.”
Morgorth made a strange sound and closed his eyes tightly.
“What if I asked you to explain to me why you love me? Could you really answer that satisfactorily?”
He shook his head. “No.” He took a large breath. “Your answer would be mine. You’re inside me, a part of me. Thank you.”
I continued to stroke his cheek, knowing he wouldn’t sleep unless I helped him. “It’s foolish, but part of me wishes I could go back into the past. I wish I could be there and hold you. Hold and protect that little boy you were. I want to desperately shield you from what you’ve endured.”
Morgorth stared at me, then he almost smiled. “You do. In some ways, you do.” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his chest. “Could you...make me forget? Could you love me and”—he closed his eyes—“make me remember what it’s like to be loved?”
I smiled and kissed him slowly, softly. Then I pulled back, just long enough to say, “You should know, mate, that you never need to ask me if I love you. You should know it as fact. It is fact, just as it is fact Karishian revolves around the sun, and the Mother created all of us. I love you.”
His breath hitched but I didn’t give him time to talk. I didn’t want him to talk. He wanted me to make him forget? Good enough for me. I would make us both forget. I deepened the kiss, sliding my hands over his chest, sides, torso. I lay half on top of him, pushing our cold bodies together, determined to warm them up. I sucked his lips, played his tongue with my own. He moaned, his hands gripping my shoulders, but he made no move to take control. He wanted me to love him, to dominate. His trust delighted me.
I slid my hand under his body, over his butt, his muscled thigh. Morgorth gave the impression of being a skinny mage, but that was deceptive. Considering how many stairs he had in Geheimnis and the physical training we’d been committed to the last couple of months, he was now lean with muscle. Not that it really mattered to me. I adored him no matter what his appearance. No matter his look it was the mage himself who I was devoted to.
Now I lay fully on top of him and lowered my mouth to his chest. His hands tangled in my hair as I leisurely licked and sucked his nipples. My hands danced over his ribs, causing him to tremble and jerk, since I knew he was ticklish there.
“Aishe,” he breathed my name.
I smiled but kept my movements slow, to steadily arouse. I enjoyed lingering over his body, to render this fierce mage weak. He’d had fire on his arms, had called to the cold, had held his brother against a wall not even an hour ago, and yet here he was, trembling underneath me. It was intoxicating and frightening to realize how much control I had over him. Only I could calm him, only I could make him vulnerable. I had power over this seventh son of a seventh son, this destined Destroyer of our world. I had the sort of power Morgorth’s bastard father had tried to gain. I lifted my head and gazed down at him. Morgorth opened his eyes slightly, the brown turned to amber as his magick rose to the surface. His skin was now hot to the touch and glowed faintly. He was gorgeous. Mine.
“Aishe?”
I shook my head before slipping down his body. I gripped the base of his erection before sucking his tip. He hissed and his hips jerked up.
“Yes, yes, I want that, baby,” Morgorth murmured.
I smiled as I sucked. I’d grown to like his term of endearment, especially when said with such adoration. I sucked harder before lapping at his sensitive tip. While one hand stroked his base, the other fondled his balls, squeezing and petting. He squirmed under me, panting, his fingers clenching in my hair. He grew steadily harder under my touch, and when the first drop of bitter salt touched my tongue, we both groaned.
I moved up his body, lapping, licking, stroking, and his hands now gripped my shoulders, urging me up. My tongue lovingly traced his scars, causing his breath to hitch. He tried to push my head away but I simply gripped his wrists, pushed his hands to the mattress, and continued my exploration.
“Aishe, don’t.”
“I love all of you, Morgorth.” I slid my tongue over a particularly long scar that started at his shoulder and sliced across to the middle of his collarbone. It must have hurt so much and bled so profusely. Only a child, and forced to deal with brutality most adults would never know.
Our mouths met once again and his kiss was frenzied, desperate. I drove my fingers through his hair, messing it up. He gripped my ass, his fingers diving into the crease, sliding along my hole. Shivering, I nibbled his lips, then began to kiss him all over his face. Morgorth shuddered out a breath and pressed our groins together. My own body demanded attention, my erection painfully hard, but I wasn’t done with my mate yet. I didn’t think he’d sufficiently forgotten.
“Lube, Morgorth.”
With a word said in a gasp, the bottle of lube appeared in his hand from where he summoned it from one of our bags. I grabbed it before rolling him over. Morgorth lifted his ass, and I had to take a moment to admire it. But then, with lube-covered fingers, I pushed into his body insistently. My force wrenched a surprised cry from him before he groaned. As two of my fingers stroked and curled inside him, I attacked the map of scars across his back with my mouth. My tongue, my lips, they loved his scars. I needed Morgorth to know, to accept, that I would always want him and love him. My loyalty to him was absolute, for go
od or bad, and there wasn’t a force in the universe, not even the Mother, who could separate us. I would fight and bleed to stay by his side.
My fingers curled again but this time, they brushed something. Morgorth cursed and his body tightened for a second. I grinned and brushed that spot again. Morgorth shook, panted, and looked at me over his shoulder. His eyes were smoldering amber, his skin a shimmering white.
“Fuck me, Aishe. Now.”
His command aroused me beyond belief. I rolled him over, and he spread his legs, bent his knees. He granted me full access and I took full advantage. I slicked my erection before thrusting deep, forcing myself inside his warmth all at once. He accepted me, his legs wrapping around my waist. I was the only one to know him this way. He’d fucked others, but he’d never been fucked. I was the first—and only—to be inside him. I would never forget that, nor would it ever cease to arouse me and fill me with pride and worth.
Leaning over, I pounded him hard and he met each thrust. His arms were around my neck, his eyes fixed on my face, and our grunts and groans mixed, becoming one sound from one being. The candlelight flickered off his other scars, the ones on his arms, his chest. My mouth sought them out, and as I licked him I felt as if I was cleansing them somehow. I was filling them with new meaning: that of survival, of a battle fought and won. Morgorth had survived his abuse, he’d overcome it. He hadn’t rolled over in defeat. Full victory hadn’t been claimed yet, but he was so close... We were so close.
Morgorth gripped my face, removing it from where I’d been kissing his shoulder and smashed his mouth against mine. He kissed me with enough force to bruise my lips, and I felt his magick shimmer and warm the air around us. I knew if I opened my eyes, I would see a mist of color and sparkles around us, the form his magick took when it was unfocused, not called on to perform a spell.
