Bound to His Redemption

by Lisa Kumar

  His father leaned over him, smirking. “You’ve so easily forgotten one of the basics of your training? Never leave a weapon of yours lying about where anyone can grab it.” He shook his head in a chiding, despairing way. “The human woman must be influencing you, making you weak. That’s what happens when you get close to almost every female, human or elf.”

  His father’s leering grin made him ache to smash in his face. All his life, Baltor had provided hurt and fear instead of support and protection. He’d arranged for Eamon to be taken under Serrina’s wing and had done nothing to stop her more extreme proclivities, many of those sexual in nature.

  Now his words of betrayal spewed out. “Oh, and was that why you approved of your beloved sister’s tutelage of me? Because it would make me weak? You know exactly what she did and yet approved of it.”

  The smile drifted from his father’s lips. He roughly grabbed Eamon by the arm and hauled him up. While still keeping the gun trained on him, Baltor moved away and scooped up a rope.

  Eamon bristled and rose to his knees. The bastard was going to tie him up, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop him unless he put that gun down. If Baltor put the weapon down to tie him up, he might be able to regain the upper hand. That hope died a quick death, though, when his father called in for backup. That also meant Kaiden’s team hadn’t taken out all Baltor’s men.

  Under the steely watch of two of his father’s human men, Baltor roughly bound his hands and wrists. Then the bastard made Eamon sit and tied him down to a metal chair so that he faced Caralyn.

  Hopeless anger burned through him. He finally lost the will to keep his gaze off her. She’d pulled herself into a sitting position on the pallet and leaned forward as if she were exhausted or in great pain. She was probably both. And now there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help her. He couldn’t even reach his phone. Though he didn’t have much hope he could get them out alive unless the others found them soon, he forced what might pass for an encouraging look on his face.

  Inside, he was cursing himself. Why had he turned his back on his father? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  His father circled him like a beast scenting blood. He probably did. Eamon could feel some sliding down from a cut on his cheek. Eamon knew what Baltor was doing and understood the effectiveness of his tactic only too well. Even now, sweat wove down his back like a traitor he couldn’t control. He could practically feel Baltor’s presence right at his back, almost on top of him. It was a feeling he hated. That was why his father had often employed it during Eamon’s many childhood punishments.

  Finally, his father grew bored of toying with him and came around to the front. He dismissed his men, all the while staring at Eamon. Baltor’s lip curled up on one side as if he were looking at something disgusting — nothing new there. Eamon had always been a vast disappointment to the cold elf.

  Baltor crossed his arms. “Your aunt was a fine woman. It was my mistake thinking she could toughen you up. Alas, even she had her weaknesses. She let Talion and Andrian drive her moods.” Another expression of repugnance crossed his face. “Wanting the adoration of one brother and lusting after the other one when her wish went denied. See, my son, love is a weakness.”

  His father’s willful obliviousness grated on him, as did the man’s very existence. “It wasn’t love that drove her over the edge. It’s the insanity that runs in this family. Only dear Uncle Avrin seems to have missed his fair share of it.”

  “Bah! Don’t mention that ingrate. He’s in the king’s pocket.”

  “And this drives you to madness, doesn’t it? That he and Talion have far more power than you ever will? They’re respected for their principles, not for what they can impose on others.”

  Baltor’s brows slammed together. “Now you’re their biggest supporter? I remember a time not too long ago that you plotted their downfall and would’ve spit on their graves.”

  “Who said I still wouldn’t? While I don’t approve of everything they stand for, there’s no doubt they’re much better beings than you and I ever will be.” The truth of his words hit. He smirked, knowing his next words would infuriate his father. “And I’m so far above you in that department, so we know just how low you are.”

  Wrath flashed across Baltor’s face, and he backhanded on his already bleeding and bruised cheek. A fresh ocean of pain washed over him. He gritted his teeth, determined not to show any further sign of hurt. And, really, this was nothing to what his father and Serrina had done to him in the past. He also had the satisfaction of watching his father step back and shake out his hand, which told him Baltor had felt that strike, too.

  He chanced a glance at Caralyn. She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. He wished he could assure her he knew what he was doing, but he didn’t. All he could do was bide time for them until help came. Still, the raw fear radiating off her sent a shot of determination through him and told him he’d decided on the right course. Somehow, he’d get them both out safely or die trying.

  If anything, Baltor was too sure of himself. That might work in their favor.

  After a long period of silence, his father glared at him. “Enough of this. You can verbally spar with me until the end of time, but we have plans to carry out.”

  Eamon broke into laughter, which made metal slats of the chair dig even more uncomfortably into his back. “We do?”

  “You know why I called you here. I need my son back.”

  “Oh, please, spare me the sham sentimentality. It’s so long overdue that it’s now as rotten as you.”

  Baltor slashed a hand toward Caralyn. “You join me or she dies.”

  He’d been expecting that threat, but he still had trouble schooling his expression to reveal nothing. “So?”

  His father raised a brow. “So? That didn’t seem to be your opinion when I called you earlier this evening.”

  “She has her uses.” He refused to look at Caralyn. She had to understand that he didn’t mean his words. If not, he’d have to convince her later. He did this so there would be a later.

  Baltor sent Caralyn an assessing look. “If you want to keep her as your pet, that would be permissible.”

  “You’re too kind,” Eamon said, his voice sarcastic.

  “You’ll find I can be very kind when we take over Eria, the other fae realms, and then Earth.”

  That was farfetched even for his father and made Eamon blink. “You’re serious?”

  “Completely.”

  Laughter bubbled up his throat. “You really have gone mad.”

  “And you’re weak not to see the merit of my vision.”

  “Your vision is suicidal. By all means, have at it, but leave me out of it. I’m done with your schemes that only mire me deeper into chaos and strife.”

  Baltor fisted his hand in Eamon’s hair and yanked his head back. “You had to ruin everything. You had control of the darkindred, and you lost it.”

  “And you’re bargaining with humans who will stab you in the back!” And that you’d gladly do the same to. “Do you think they’ll let you take over Earth? Once they find out about the fae races, they’ll stop at nothing to get into our lands, and you know it!”

  Baltor shook his head, not appearing the slightest bit concerned. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of the humans. We can still rule Eria and any other realm we desire.”

  “How do you plan to do this?”

  “The humans will give us all the weapons we could ever need. If we could somehow create another orb, we can regain our army. Then Talion, and indeed the whole fae world, would have no choice but to bow down to us.”

  The thought of world domination didn’t appeal to Eamon like it once would have. However, his calculating mind hadn’t suffered. If he could keep his father talking, he could uncover some of his machinations and use them against him when — if — Kaiden or his team arrived.

  “And I suppose you plan to take over the human world after that?” Eamon asked, trying to keep the scoffing
note out of his tone.

  “Of course,” his father said, as if it were the most natural thing he could think of.

  Knowing his father, it probably was. The elf loved power above all. It’d apparently corrupted what little sanity was left in his mind. “And what did you promise them in return?”

  “Jewels, natural resources. Immortality.”

  Shock poured like ice water over him. Surely, he’d misheard. “What?”

  “The leaders — I’ve promised them the thing they covet most.”

  Eamon growled and scowled at Baltor. It was worse than he’d feared. “So they know who we are? They know of Eria?”

  “They know we’re elvinkind but not that we come from another dimension. I’m not stupid.”

  “I think that’s debatable.”

  His father slipped a hand into his suit jacket and pulled out a blade. After it clicked open, a slow smile spread over Baltor’s face. Chills coursed down Eamon’s spine. He knew that expression well. His father was gearing up for some of his signature “fun,” and Eamon would be the main attraction. But better him than Caralyn.

  Baltor stepped toward him. Caralyn gasped in horror, apparently realizing his father’s intent. “No, no,” she choked out.

  His father rounded on her. “What? You want to pick up where we left off? That can be arranged. First, I need to do a bit more convincing” — he gestured toward Eamon — “on this one.”

  Caralyn’s already pale face turned bone white, and a snarl came out of Eamon’s throat. “Leave her alone.”

  Baltor cocked his head to the side and examined both of them. “For the moment I will, but never doubt I’ll have you both where I want you.”

  “I’ll die before I serve you again.”

  “I’d agree to that, but I find you so useful.” He threw a glance at Caralyn. “And no matter what you say, I think you’ll do about anything to protect her. You did always have a nauseatingly protective streak toward your mother that you seem to have transferred to this human. What a waste — you never showed such initiative with your aunt, and she was the queen, a great woman!”

  A red haze came over Eamon’s eyesight at the mention of his mother. Baltor had always been uncaring and cruel to her. How dare he defile her memory by even thinking of her? Eamon struggled against his bonds and bucked until the chair crawled forward, but Baltor merely stepped to the side.

  Eamon bared his teeth. “Don’t talk about my mother. You all but rejoiced at her death. Humans might’ve killed her, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you arranged it. As for my aunt, well, she was a viper who took advantage of me — my loneliness, youth, and inexperience. I soon discovered what her queenly façade held. Nothing but ugliness!”

  By the end of his little speech, Eamon’s breath came hard and fast. His chest heaved. God, he hated his father so much. And he loved Caralyn just as ardently. Baltor had to die.

  His father’s emotional state wasn’t much better. The fine trembling of his body and the thin set of his lips told Eamon just how angry he was. Strong emotion usually made Baltor sloppy. Hopefully, it would this time, too.

  Baltor slammed Eamon’s chair backward. Eamon hit the floor hard. All the air rushed from his lungs, and every part of his back had felt that fall.

  His father loomed over him, his hands clenched into fists. “You disgraceful, piss-poor excuse of a son! Just like your mother, whom I did indeed get rid of.” He whipped a switchblade from his suit jacket. “I should gut you like the worthless —”

  The words in his father’s throat cut off, and his eyes went wide. A gurgling sound issued from his mouth. He slowly keeled to the side, knees buckling. Then he collapsed to the floor beside Eamon.

  Caralyn stood behind the fallen form of Baltor, a blade in her hand that dripped with red blood. Eamon could only stare at her from the ground, too flabbergasted to think coherently. Her face, by Eria, her face, it conveyed so much — relief, horror, fear, strength and so much more he couldn’t even begin to name. All of this was rolled up into one small woman who meant everything to him. She was beautiful even while injured and bloodied.

  The dagger gripped in her hand began to shake to such a degree she dropped it. They both watched as the blade landed on the ground with a soft thud. That was when Eamon noticed something, and the breath caught in his throat.

  He could see the knife quite clearly, and it was undoubtedly Erian in make. That wasn’t what enthralled him, though. No, this was a blade he’d seen growing up and had thought long gone. It had been his mother’s. He’d know it from anywhere — how the gems sparkled in the handle, how the light caressed the dark metal.

  Through slack lips, he forced out a question and looked at her. “Where did you get that blade?”

  “I ... I ... Aistiane gave it to me this morning, or was it this afternoon?” His mate appeared to be having as much trouble forming words as he was. Finally, she tore her gaze away from the dagger and shook her head in a dazed way. “She said something about appreciating the knife and using it but ... It was in my car when I was taken. I’m sure of it. How ... how did it get into my coat pocket?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. If Aistiane gave it to you, she probably was responsible for it appearing in your pocket.” His back protested, reminding him he needed to get up. “Can you untie me? I want to make sure he’s really dead. I don’t want any more unpleasant surprises.”

  “Me, either.” She glanced at him to the knife, her hesitation to pick up the discarded weapon clear. “Should I —”

  The door to the storeroom banged open, making both of them turn their heads. Andrian and Kaiden entered the room, followed by the holdout’s two men, Jackson and Chase. Relief coursed through Eamon.

  “You both okay?” Andrian asked and quickly took in the scene, lifting a brow. “Caralyn took care of the ass since you’re trussed up like a pig?”

  “Just untie me,” Eamon snapped, annoyed the graykindred had caught him in that embarrassing, undignified position.

  Caralyn swayed on her feet. “I’m not feeling so well.”

  The dreadlocked Jackson sprang to her side. “Whoa, there, little lady, we’ll take care of you.”

  Eamon closed his eyes, worry for Caralyn battling the pain and irritation he felt. This day couldn’t end too soon. He just wanted to tend to Caralyn and offer her the comfort she so deserved.

  Chapter 34

  Caralyn sent Eamon a covert glance from where she sat on her sofa. He lounged in a nearby chair, frowning at the television. She nearly asked him if he wanted to watch something else, but she knew that wasn’t the problem. Though she didn’t really know what the exact problem was, she could feel it like a physical presence in her chest, weighing her down and making her gasp for breath at the most inopportune times.

  It’d been two days since the kidnapping and his father’s death. Eamon showed her so much care that he was almost smothering her. Thanks to him and the wonders of elvin medicine, her wounds were healing faster than expected and the pain was largely numbed with his special ointment.

  Still, there was some tenseness in his manner that worried her. She didn’t understand him. Was he upset she’d killed his father? He all but refused to talk about her kidnapping, changing the subject when she tried to broach it. Though she wasn’t happy to have killed another living being — and had the nightmares to prove it — she couldn’t regret her actions. Baltor had been a true evil, and he’d given her no choice. Knowing what he’d been about to do to Eamon, his own son, still chilled her to the core. And the things he’d said and Eamon accused him of ...

  She shivered and rubbed her hands over her sweater-clad arms. Though she didn’t pretend to know all the horrors of Eamon’s childhood, she was relatively positive it’d been his aunt, Baltor’s sister, who had beaten him and likely sexually abused him, too. And his father had known about it, maybe even put her up to it or, at the very least, encouraged her to.

  Her throat grew tight. Her own parents were veritable saints in
comparison. To think all he’d lived through ... He’d done bad things, terrible things, but so much of his life had been manipulated to bring about those behaviors and choices. Still, there was personal responsibility, and she knew Eamon would have to live with the ghost of all he’d done.

  God, she loved him so much. Sometimes, she wondered how she could. He’d only come into her life ... what, less than three weeks ago? That couldn’t be right. It felt longer, but when she rechecked her math, she saw her first calculation had been correct.

  Maybe she was making a mistake, but she needed to talk to him about them, their relationship. Though it would break something within her soul if he didn’t want anything long term, she had to find out. Not knowing was slowly driving her mad. Plus, Andrian was out, so there was no time better than now.

  She chanced another look at him, and this time he caught her. He raised a brow, and she knew he was nonverbally asking her if she wanted something. Just you. His cut and bruised cheek were even farther along in healing than her injuries were. Something about how elvish medicine reacted optimally to those of fae blood had been mentioned.

  Aware that she was staring, she forced her mouth to work. “For the last few days, you’ve been great, but you also seem tense. Is ... is it something I’ve done?”

  Beyond a slight widening of his eyes, his face didn’t give anything away. As she waited for his answer, her already thudding heart was thundering against her ribcage.

  “You’ve done nothing,” he said, his voice stiff, and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.” She touched her chest. “I can feel it here, and it’s a strange, uncomfortable sensation.”

  He froze. “What?”

  His hoarse tone registered, and she sent him a shrewd look. “That news surprises you.” It wasn’t a question but a statement, one she meant to get an answer for.