“What does Salinger want most in the world?” Nash asked from his place at the Drakes’ long oak dinner table where Alastair, Ryker, Jace, Sebastian, and Aurora currently congregated. GiGi and Arabella had decided to forego involvement; GiGi for the obvious reason that Ryker was present and Arabella because she preferred to stay away from all the espionage games, according to her.
“My head on a silver platter?” Alastair suggested.
“Exactly.” His son smiled. “Let’s say we’ll give it to him.”
Jace looked up from his dinner only long enough to say, “He’ll smell a trap from ten miles away.” When no one answered, he glanced around again. “What?”
“Didn’t Drake feed you?” Ryker asked, casting a side glance at Sebastian that promised retribution if he found out he hadn’t shown Jace the courtesy he was due.
“No, he did, but I was afraid to trust the food and drink wasn’t drugged.” Jace grimaced and dug back into his meal.
Alastair watched him a second longer and shook his head. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t have been as paranoid in the same situation, because he had. For a brief minute, he was transported back to his days in Zhu Lin’s dungeon. High up in the Himalayas, the nights were bitterly cold. All Alastair had had to keep him company were the hollowed-out eyes and skeletal remains of other witches and warlocks long since dead.
He shuddered.
“Are you all right, darling?”
Aurora’s hand on his arm made him jump.
“Yes, fine.” He shot her a tight smile. “Old ghosts.”
It was a term he always used when he didn’t want her to pry into the darkest part of his life. Although her concern was evident and her irises darkened a shade in her sadness at being unable to exorcise his demons, she nodded her understanding and turned back to the conversation around them.
Threading his fingers with hers, he raised their joined hands and placed a kiss on her knuckles. He leaned close to whisper directly into her ear. “I love you.”
Her happy smile did what all the therapy in the world couldn’t and shook him out of his mood.
“Of course you do, darling. What’s not to love?”
He chuckled and continued to hold her hand as they turned back to the situation that needed their attention.
“The thing he wants most in the world is Alastair,” Jace said after he’d finally ran out of food. “Not for a prisoner, not to kill, but as his mate.”
While it came as no surprise to him, Alastair was amused to see the horrified expressions cross the faces of the room’s occupants. One or two of the others present knew about Victor’s sexual preferences and didn’t care either way. However, the idea of forcing those desires on another was tantamount to rape in their minds—and they would be correct in that regard.
Aurora’s fingers tightened on his, but he dropped her hand and refused to meet her inquiring eyes. They’d never discussed his time in that hellhole, and he didn’t intend to start now. Not with her. He didn’t think he could bear her pity in that regard.
He did, however, meet Sebastian Drake’s speculative gaze. “It was the one thing Zhu Lin continually refused to allow him when it came to my capture and torture.”
“Uncivilized bastards,” Drake muttered. “I had no idea. I apolo—”
He held up a hand, cutting the younger man off. “You have nothing to apologize for, son. You had no way of knowing what went on. You were a mere boy during the war.”
“My father was killed during the witches’ war,” Sebastian said quietly.
“Mine, too.” Alastair dropped his eyes to his Scotch and swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler. “A lot of good lives were lost to that blasted war.” He downed the contents of his glass and slammed it on the table. “But the past is the past. Now we must find a way to work together to make the present a danger-free place to live for our kind.”
“Of course.”
“In-fighting among us won’t achieve that goal. Despite what Beecham has said or promised you.”
Sebastian froze with his drink halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he set the glass down. “You know about Beecham?”
“Yes. I also know he intends to cause an uprising.” He leaned forward to emphasize his point. “That serves no one, son. He’ll cause another war because he hates me. That’s all.”
“I knew he bore you no love, but why should he hate you in particular?” Sebastian wanted to know.
“My mother,” Nash said. “Beecham was engaged to my mom, Trina Gillespie. When Alastair returned from his time in Zhu Lin’s dungeon, he went home to discover Aurora had married Preston Thorne because she believed he had died years earlier. Alastair was half dead and heart-hurt to learn that news.” Nash looked at his father for a long moment, no readable expression on his face. “Uncle Ryker was off doing Goddess knew what, and so my mother nursed Alastair back to health. They had an affair.”
Ryker took up the story. “You can imagine Beecham’s rage upon Trina breaking off the engagement. We still can’t prove it, but we believe he took her life a few years later.”
Nash choked on his wine and whipped his head around to stare at Ryker. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this?”
“Because I swore your uncle to secrecy. You were too young to deal with the added trauma of that type of information. It was enough that you lost your mother,” Alastair said, toying with the butter knife in front of him. “We were unable to prove anything one way or the other, but I haven’t given up searching for Trina’s killer.”
“Why wouldn’t a spell to look into the past work?” Aurora asked. “Like the one Preston and I used to discover Jace was still alive.”
“Ryker and I actually tried that. The magic cloaking the event was too old and too black.”
“Black magic? That doesn’t sound like Beecham,” Sebastian protested.
Alastair’s sardonic gaze connected with Ryker’s before he turned to Drake. “It sounds just like the Beecham we know.”
The young man glanced from person to person and seemed to come to a decision. “Then I suggest we forget Victor Salinger for now and go after Beecham. If he truly is as evil as you say, he needs to be stopped.”
A slow smile spread across Alastair’s face. “When that day comes—preferably sooner rather than later—we’ll figure out a way for you to secure Beecham’s place on the Council.”
Sebastian grinned, and his eyes lit with delight. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Later that night as Alastair and Aurora prepared for bed, she brought up the subject of his imprisonment. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened when you were Lin’s prisoner?”
“I’d prefer if we didn’t,” he said mildly as he laid his watch in the timepiece case.
“Alastair.”
He sighed deeply and faced her. His expression was as closed off as she’d ever seen.
“Please talk to me,” she beseeched him. “Maybe it will help with your nightmares.”
His anger manifested in the air as it crackled around them. “What do you want me to say? Hmm? Would you prefer I tell you how Salinger dragged me naked from my cell when Zhu Lin was gone, and how he forced me to stand in the freezing snow? I was unable to warm myself because of a pair of magic-suppressing shackles.”
She could imagine it now. It would have cost him everything to maintain his proud bearing and pretend he wasn’t freezing to death. Pain for him shocked her, locking her in place.
Another ripple of rage altered the energy of the room. “How about the times he pounded me with his fists when I was helpless to do anything about it? If I fought, I paid with the lash upon my back. That Zhu Lin did allow.” Alastair snapped his fingers, and his upper clothing disappeared. He turned his back to her and said, “Ostendo.”
The glamour Alastair had disguising the horrific abuse disappeared. His back was a map of criss-crossed scars, with the skin puckered so tightly in places that she could only imagine the ache it still caused when he moved. She wondered why he’d never had them magically removed.
“Oh, Alastair. How could you not tell me? All this time, I had no idea,” she cried.
He flinched when she ran her fingertips over the worst of his scars. “It should never be your burden to bear, Rorie,” he said hoarsely.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” She grabbed his arm and spun him to face her. “You were always my everything. And I was yours. How could you not share something this significant?”
His eyes had shifted to a deep indigo, and pain radiated within their depths. He looked so tortured.
She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. “I love you, and when I hear you cry out from your nightmares then you hide from me for hours on end afterward, I…” She sucked in a deep breath. “That’s what I can’t bear. All this…” She waved a hand to indicate his back. “Yes, it makes me sad you suffered. It makes me want to rip Victor’s heart from his chest. But it’s the times you shut yourself away from me that are truly the unbearable moments. Please don’t hide from me anymore.”
He cleared his throat and focused his attention over her shoulder. “It’s myself I hide from.”
“Please, Alastair. It makes no difference to me. You didn’t ask for what they did. You have nothing of which to be ashamed.”
“I don’t feel shame. I feel rage. A fury so strong that it pokes the beast in me to destroy everything and everyone.”
“But you won’t.”
“No. It seems the small thread of humanity I cling to stops me in time.” His gaze connected with hers. “I kept these scars to remind me and to fuel my plans for revenge. But when I’m with you, I simply want to forget.”
“Then let me help you do that, too.”
She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him. It wasn’t a passionate kiss by any means. No, it was a kiss meant to express her love and understanding. It was soft and filled with gratitude that he survived all he had to come back to her. A kiss to show how much she appreciated what he’d done to bring her back. A kiss full of heartache, pain, love, and hope.
When she drew back, Alastair grasped her wrist and turned to rest his cheek in her palm. He understood the message. Understood that she loved him beyond reason and would always be around for him should he need her to be.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. With reverence, he set her down on the comforter and knelt over her. He trailed the tips of his fingers over the arch of her brow and down the side of her face. He didn’t stop until his right hand rested above her heart.
Aurora was certain he felt the mad pounding of her pulse.
“You are my entire world. I never wanted any of the ugliness associated with me to touch you. You are too beautiful and perfect for that to mar your life.” His opposite hand fisted in the coverlet beside her head.
“Oh, Alastair. I’m so far from perfect,” she said. “You’ve always had me up a pedestal and refused to see my flaws. But I’m as human as they come; bad decisions, insecurities, and all.”
His smile was slow and sweet. “Nah. I see your flaws, my love. But that only serves to make you more perfect to me. For me.” He leaned in and kissed her until her toes curled. His tongue bold and demanding. “I don’t want an angel,” he told her gruffly. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Indeed,” she murmured as she pulled him down atop her.