Chapter Eight

 

 

 

The silver cast of the moon drew deep shadows from the forest around Tailor. He lifted his eagle’s head to the slight breeze, listening to the rustle of nature and breathing it in to clear his thoughts. Ahead of him, a dim light shone through the lace curtains of his mate’s bedroom window on the second floor of his cabin. He stared at it, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dhani.

When he’d left the cabin, he had shifted immediately and taken to the skies, his only thought to get away from the confusion and turmoil of his emotions. After years of being forced to suppress them, he still had a hard time processing them. He hadn’t been prepared to take in the revelation Laya had disclosed. His mind was still trying to make sense of the situation.

From the beginning, he’d known there had to be a reason why he’d been given a second mate. Another chance at happiness. Come to find out it wasn’t a second chance at all, but a new beginning with his first chance.

The intricacies of it all made his head hurt, but in the hour he’d spent flying, searching for reason in the absurdity of the situation, one thing had become clear. He was tied irrevocably to Dhani.

A shadow blacker than the night drifted out from the tree line and he grudgingly flew down from the branch he was perched on. He took back his human form at the same time Manning shifted from his panther spirit and met his gaze. Manning held two swords in his hands and tossed one to Tailor.

Tailor caught it by the hilt, curving his lips in a private smile at the fact that his friend knew him so well. The temptation to work out his anger and confusion as he always had—in combat—was strong. However, it wasn’t what he needed this time. He drove the blade into the cold ground. “How did she know?”

Manning didn’t need an explanation for the question. Tailor knew his friend wouldn’t have left without getting every unsaid piece of information from Laya, just as he would have if their roles had been reversed.

Manning pushed his own sword into the ground. “She researched you before she went looking for you. Found out the spirit that had entered Dhani had belonged to your first mate. She was able to come to her own conclusion that you two were mates because of that spirit.”

Tailor nodded. It changed nothing. His thoughts were still reeling in confusion and the pain in his chest only grew stronger.

“Do you want him?”

“What?”

“Do you want him?” Manning repeated. “Dhani. Do you still think of him as your mate?”

The question took Tailor by surprise. It was so far from the subject his thoughts had been circling around that it took him a moment to answer. Yet, it had everything to do with the problem he faced. In a ragged voice, he said, “I love him.”

“Then why are you out here instead of in there with him?”

Tailor raked a hand through his hair and turned his back to Manning. “It doesn’t matter to me that Dhani has Dominic’s spirit. I mean, yeah, it matters. It explains a lot, but it’s not the only reason I fell in love with him. Dhani is…mine. He’s the kind of person that makes me feel like the luckiest bastard on earth just for knowing him. He was willing to love me even after I hurt him. Hell, he sacrificed himself to save a friend. I can’t imagine my life without him. Again.”

“So what’s the deal?”

Tailor whirled around, his hands balled into fists and teeth clenched. “Don’t you get it? I didn’t just kill Dominic. I served him up on a silver platter. When I led that group of Vam’kir into our community, I thought I’d been responsible for his death. Fuck, it would’ve been preferable!”

He laughed almost hysterically. “Only he wasn’t killed. He was taken and used for a spell that ripped him apart to free our enemy. I should’ve been there to protect him! I should’ve looked for him when I couldn’t find his body. All these years, I’ve blamed myself for his murder when I should have searched for him. He suffered a fate worse than death because I was too consumed with grief to remember one of the first rules my father taught me! Never believe without proof.”

He spat out the last words, nearly retching over the foul taste they left in his mouth.

Manning’s expression remained impassive. “You couldn’t have known.”

“No? No? I searched for Dhani, didn’t I? I chased after the impossible, knowing I had about the same chance of finding him as a neutered squirrel has of busting a nut.”

Manning furrowed his brow. “What?”

“The point is…I found him. I never gave up on him. Where the hell was I when Dominic was taken?” he shouted. The rage and self-hatred he’d felt when Laya had revealed the truth came rushing to the surface, so strong he couldn’t see straight.

“All our lives,” Manning ground out, “I’ve seen you follow meekly in the steps of your father. You were like a dog begging for scraps, doing anything to please a man who could never be satisfied. He beat the shit out of you on a daily basis and you just stayed there and took it every time. The first time I’ve seen you do anything for yourself was the day you met Dominic. Then Dhani came along and gave your life meaning again.

“Tell me you want to throw him away just because you can’t get over your past. Tell me he’s not worth your pride and I’ll put you out of your misery right now.”

Fury consumed Tailor and he lunged for Manning, rearing back to throw a punch. Manning dodged it then wrestled him to the ground. They went at each other viciously until Tailor pinned him down and raised a fist to strike him. Manning caught it in his palm before it could hit his jaw, meeting Tailor’s gaze with the same ferocity. “We can go at this all night. It wouldn’t be the first time, but I’m not the one you should be focusing on.”

Tailor vibrated with the emotions flooding him. There was so much guilt and shame crushing in on him, tearing him apart, he didn’t know how to take back control. It was only the hard tolerance on Manning’s face that brought him back to awareness.

He fell into a sitting position at Manning’s side and dug his elbows into his knees, burying his head in his hands. Tears stung his eyes for the second time in his life. The only other time he’d cried had been after losing Dominic.

Manning sat up and spoke in a low voice. “I’ve lost a lot of friends and good men in the battles we’ve had to fight. I don’t want to lose another. Dhani needs you as much as you need him. So quit dickin’ around and show him that you love him.”

Tailor laughed on an exhale and dried his eyes. Manning was right. He had more important things to do than wallow in self-pity. He stood and clasped Manning’s hand to pull him up. “I really hate you sometimes.”

Manning grinned. “Shut up and go to your mate.”

Inside, they found Cy standing at the foot of the stairs with his arms crossed and an implacable expression on his face. Laya was arguing with him and apparently getting nowhere.

“I have a right to see my son. Now get out of my way,” she demanded.

“Not ‘til my man says it’s okay.”

“He’s not even here!”

“I am now,” Tailor said as he strode toward them. He clapped Cy on the shoulder in thanks then turned to face Laya. While he believed she had the best intentions for her son, he didn’t want to deal with her yet, and he doubted Dhani wanted to either. “Take one of the spare rooms down the hall. I’ll let you stay here only on the promise that you give Dhani space until he’s ready to talk to you again.”

She glared defiantly. “I’m his mother.”

“And I’m the one he trusts,” he said, meeting her defiance evenly. “Take the offer or get out.”

Her lips pursed in indecision, though she didn’t argue further. Instead, she walked stiffly down the hall he’d indicated and chose one of the bedrooms.

Manning went upstairs with Tailor. In Dhani’s room, Tailor looked around in alarm at the mess. The closet had been ransacked and bits of a cardboard box lay scattered over thrown paraphernalia, as if it had exploded from the inside. Tailor recognized the box as the one he’d stored a few old daggers in and found one of them embedded in the wall next to the closet door.

The contents on top of the dresser had been knocked to the floor and the mirror was shattered. Splatters of blood painted the shards in the center and the few that had fallen down. Leaning against the dresser on the floor was Quinn, fast asleep with one hand in Dhani’s hair. Dhani was also asleep, lying with his head in Quinn’s lap and his thin body curled into a ball.

Tailor noticed cotton swabs and a bottle of peroxide beside them before he saw the bandage covering the knuckles on one of Dhani’s hands. Blood had seeped through the bandage and dripped onto the floor at Quinn’s knee. Tailor shook his head, almost afraid to ask. “What the hell happened in here?”

Manning shrugged. “We heard him banging around up here, then he screamed. We found him like this, collapsed on the floor with his knuckles bleeding. I think he tried to use that knife on himself and got pissed when he couldn’t go through with it.”

Another wave of guilt hit Tailor. He should’ve been here. He never should’ve left Dhani alone. Still, it didn’t feel right. The Dhani he knew wouldn’t have resorted to suicide, no matter how bad things seemed. Roh Se Kahn had changed him, of that there was no doubt, but they hadn’t been discussing Dhani’s time with the dark God. They’d been talking about Dominic’s spirit and the new home it had found in Dhani.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he murmured. “Dhani wouldn’t do this.” There were too many missing variables. It felt like he was staring at a puzzle, his mind trying to see the picture clearly when it was obvious pieces were missing.

“Maybe he thought he’d lost you. Suicide doesn’t make him weak. Not after everything he’s gone through.”

“No,” Tailor said, shaking his head again. He told Manning about the whitening of his mate’s hair following each of his bouts of anger. About the electric shocks he’d felt earlier when Dhani had grabbed his waist, and even how Dhani seemed to use sex to calm himself down. He expected Manning to try to explain it all away with common logic, but his friend only nodded grimly.

“When Quinn was tending to his hand,” Manning said quietly, “Dhani didn’t move or speak. His eyes were…dead. Like he was somewhere else entirely. And his scream… I’ve never heard anything like it. I wouldn’t think it had come from him if I hadn’t known for certain he was alone in this room. Do you think Roh Se Kahn might still have some kind of hold over him?”

Ice crept into Tailor’s veins. “It’s possible.” Entirely too possible for his liking. “Cy told me about the reports Rowan’s received from his men of strange movement at Roh Se Kahn’s castle. It’s too close to Dhani’s appearance.”

“Agreed.”

“If Dhani doesn’t improve soon, I’m taking him to see Keenan. For some reason, he doesn’t want to go, but if anyone will know what’s happening to him, it’ll be Keenan.”

“If that becomes necessary, Quinn and I will go with you.” Manning raised a hand at Tailor’s protest. “Dhani is family to all of us. I’d protect him as I would my own mate.”

Tailor nodded in gratitude. He gently shook Quinn awake to thank him, then picked up his mate. Dhani didn’t stir once as Tailor carried him to his own room and laid him down in the bed while Manning left with Quinn. He replaced the bandage on his mate’s right hand then lay down beside him, pulling him close.

For hours, he watched Dhani, brushing his hair softly and hoping to Goddess he was wrong about Roh Se Kahn’s hold on his mate.

 

* * * *

 

Over the course of the next week, Dhani’s condition only worsened. He became distant, withdrawn. The day after his attempted suicide, Tailor had asked him if he’d tried to take his own life. He had smiled and denied it, not even bothering to hide the lie from his energy or come up with a cover story.

Over the following days, he continued to help build the library and engaged readily in conversation. Although his attitude wasn’t quite friendly toward his mother, he appeared to have accepted her presence and treated her cordially. He’d also warmed up to Cy and laughed occasionally at his jokes.

Everything seemed to have returned to normal, or as close to normal as they’d ever been, yet Tailor could tell his mate’s behavior was forced. All of it, down to the way his body responded when Tailor kissed him and held him at night. He was rigid and hesitant, his smiles lacked true joy and when he looked at Tailor, it felt like he was looking right through him.

Laya was convinced she was the cause of his distance. She admitted it might have been better to hold off on the truth of her mate and Dominic’s spirit for a while, but she hadn’t wanted to rekindle her relationship with Dhani on a lie. Tailor had to concede his respect for her choice. If he’d found out later she had kept Dominic’s spirit a secret, he would’ve had no trouble kicking her out.

To her credit, she didn’t let Dhani’s cool attitude deter her efforts to befriend him. Each day, she thought of new, heartfelt stories to tell him about his youth spent with her, such as the stories she used to read to him and the trouble he’d gotten into. She also told him of what she’d done with her life afterwards and how she’d thought of him every day.

Her love for her son was genuine, and her regret for abandoning him even more so. Despite the abuse Dhani had gone through as a result, Tailor was beginning to admire her. She’d done the only thing she could think of to save her son and had tracked Tailor down years later to try to save him again.

Tailor also did everything he could think of to pull his mate out of his apparent depression. He’d reassured Dhani repeatedly that Dominic’s spirit wasn’t a justification for his attraction. It was only the force that had driven Tailor to realize he could love again. Not all mates chose to bond, and some of those who did never truly fell in love, as Laya could attest to. Whenever he told Dhani this, however, Dhani would merely smile and say he understood.

It was going on day seven now and Tailor’s apprehension was bordering on full-blown panic. Dhani had given up all pretenses of normalcy and spent most of his time alone in his room. He barely spoke and ate only when Tailor reminded him to. The only deliberate action he took was going to Tailor’s bed and curling up next to him every night.

Tailor scrubbed his face and downed more of the whiskey in his glass. He stared out of the kitchen window at the night sky, mulling over the plans he’d made.

Cy came in and poured himself a drink. “I think more of his hair is turning white.”

“It is,” he confirmed with a sigh, taking a seat at the table. “I’m losing him. I know it has to do with Roh Se Kahn, I just can’t figure out how the God is still affecting him.”

“Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be here.”

Tailor creased his brow. “I value your friendship, but you’ve fulfilled your duty to Rowan in watching out for me. I’m sure you must have some family you wish to return home to.”

Cy deliberated for a minute, then said, “I lied when I said Rowan sent me. I asked him to give me leave so I could help you.”

His frown deepened. “Why would you do that? We hadn’t even met.”

Cy upended his glass, refilled it, then sat down across from Tailor. “My brother died in the battle against Roh Se Kahn’s minions. He left behind a mate, six children, the whole white picket fence dream. It should’ve been me,” he said tightly.

“When I found out about what Dhani had done to save his friend and that he’d been taken by the dark God, I had to do something. We all played a part in that battle, but Dhani showed more courage than almost anyone else that day. I couldn’t let another good man be taken forever by Roh Se Kahn if I could help it. Your mate deserves a chance at happiness, no matter what he’s going through right now.”

Tailor felt a whole new appreciation for the man come over him. He raised his glass in salute and tapped it against Cy’s.

Cy cleared his throat. “So what are you going to do?”

He let out a heavy breath. “I’m going to take Dhani to see Keenan, whether he wants to or not. Hopefully, Keenan will know something about the changes he’s going through. I’ve booked a flight for all of us, including Laya. She’d have my head if I didn’t bring her along.”

Cy grinned. “Mothers-in-law. Gotta love ’em. Just make sure she doesn’t take your balls, too. They’ve been known to do that.”

Tailor scoffed then finished his glass and put it in the sink. “I’ll see you in the morning. We leave at eight.”

He went to his room where Dhani was already sitting in bed waiting for him. He sat down in front of his mate and took his hands. Dhani’s gaze remained far away and his body listless. Tailor didn’t bother to couch what he was about to say in evasive words. “I’m taking you to France tomorrow to see Keenan.”

For a brief moment, life flickered back into Dhani’s eyes and his energy reflected a mixture of joy and fear. Then it was gone. He gave the same apathetic smile he’d been giving for days and went back to staring into nothingness.

A spark of anger pierced Tailor before he could tamp it down. He felt so utterly helpless. This wasn’t his mate anymore. It was a living, breathing shell with Dhani’s soul trapped somewhere inside. Dhani’s imprisonment was starting all over again and there was nothing Tailor could do to free him.

“We’ll leave in the morning. I’m going to pack our bags then I’ll come to bed.”

There it was again. That hated smile. Tailor kissed his mate’s forehead then packed their things. Dhani nestled into his side when he lay down sometime later, though Tailor couldn’t sleep. He spent the rest of the night trying to shove a single thought from his mind, refusing to dwell on what he had no answer for.

What if they couldn’t bring Dhani back?

 

* * * *

 

The next morning, they boarded the plane to France. Manning and Quinn had left their son with Quinn’s sister, Mara, and her mate, Cherrie, to babysit for the next week. Dhani remained silent for the entire trip, staring out of the window. He barely acknowledged Laya when she tried to offer him the in-flight meal. It took a stern command from Tailor to get him to eat. They gathered more than a few stares, but Tailor ignored them.

At the airport terminal in Florac, France, Rowan and Keenan were waiting for them. Rowan was similar to his brother, Quinn, in appearance. They both had the same pale skin, black hair and angular features. The only differences were Rowan’s trim cut hair and the fact that he was twice Quinn’s size.

As soon as they passed through customs, Keenan caught sight of Dhani. His face lit up with joy and he ran toward him, only to pull up short a yard away. Shock replaced his joy and a telltale sign of horror spilled out of his energy. He looked up at Tailor who nodded. Tailor had described Dhani’s condition to Keenan the night before, but he knew Keenan hadn’t quite been prepared for it.

Keenan looked back to Dhani and yanked him into a fierce hug. Though Dhani didn’t lift his arms to return the gesture, his gaze was fixated on Keenan when Keenan pulled away to run a hand through the white strands of Dhani’s hair. It was almost a perfect match for Keenan’s own platinum hair now. “I don’t care,” Keenan whispered. “I’m just so glad you’re here.” He hugged Dhani again and this time didn’t let go for a while.

Tailor, Quinn and Manning greeted Rowan, then Tailor introduced Laya.

She shook Rowan’s hand. “Thank you for rescuing my son from the rogue Vam’kir and for keeping him safe…for a time. Tailor’s filled me in on what I’ve missed of Dhani’s life. I’m grateful your mate was, and is, such a good friend to him. I know they’ve both gone through a lot.”

Rowan wore the same expression Tailor had when he’d first met the woman, distrustful and wary. “You could say that.”

Keenan refused to let Dhani go as they picked up their luggage then headed to the parking garage. Tailor was glad to see that Dhani didn’t pull away once. Lately, Tailor had been the only person Dhani would allow to touch him for more than a second or two.

Outside, Rowan tossed a set of car keys to Tailor. “I brought your favorite. Go ahead and take them,” he said, tilting his head to indicate Dhani and Keenan. “I’ll meet you back at my place.”

Tailor recognized the keys to the classic Pontiac Firebird he’d constantly borrowed when he had lived with Rowan for six months to help get the treaty between their races in order. He was somewhat of a thrill-seeker and loved the hum of a fast car. It would have put a big, sloppy grin on his face to drive it again if his mind wasn’t preoccupied with the reason he was there.

He recalled the way to Manning’s place, having driven it many times to and from Florac, and navigated the scenic roads easily. The palace of Manning’s birthright was majestic even at night. The turrets at its four corners were lit against the night sky and rose high above the buildings of Manning’s clan which surrounded it. An outer circle of several other clans made it almost impossible to lay siege to the palace.

When they drove through the gates at the same time Manning arrived, a host of servants came out to take the cars and their luggage. Inside, Tailor took a moment to marvel at the changes Rowan had made. Gone was the cold feel of the iron fortress Rowan’s father had designed the palace to be, and in its place was warmth and comfort. The furnishings were modern yet cozy and the concrete walls had all been smoothed over and painted. A vast improvement.

Tailor frowned and glanced at Rowan. “This is Keenan’s doing, isn’t it?”

Rowan snorted. “He banned me from decorating after I suggested a pool table in the living room. I thought it was a good idea.”

“Of course you did,” Keenan said derisively. “You also thought a full bar in the kitchen and a bouncing castle in Adreanna’s room were good ideas.”

Tailor grinned. Adreanna was Rowan’s two-year-old daughter from his ex-wife, Deirdra, and Keenan was more protective of her than any parent he’d met.

“You thought of that, too?” Manning asked. “I wanted to put a castle with a ball pit in my son’s room, but Quinn wouldn’t let me.”

“And a little inflatable pool next to it.”

“Yeah!”

They carried on for a good minute, one-upping each other with their ideas and building their excitement. It wasn’t until Quinn tapped his foot on the floor and cleared his throat loudly that they finally quieted. Quinn glared at them. “Could we?”

“Right, sorry,” they said in unison.

Tailor shook his head, thankful he hadn’t lost his mind to parenthood.

Keenan started for the staircase leading to the second floor. “I’ll take Dhani to his room.” He paused to look back at Tailor. “Do you two want to share one?”

“Yes!” Dhani exclaimed, surprising them all. It was the first word he’d spoken in nearly two days.

Xenessa, the Vam’kir historian, entered the foyer. She was exactly as Tailor remembered her, dressed in her usual conservative clothing with her brown hair swept up into a severe bun. Her timeless features softened her strict appearance, made even more welcoming by the large smile on her face. “You’re all here! I’m so—”

She stopped abruptly to stare at Dhani. Her face paled and eyes widened. “Oh, sweet Mother,” she breathed, pressing a hand to her breast and swallowing convulsively.

Seconds later, Cy came in through the front door. “Damn, I’ve missed home.” To Rowan, he said, “If you don’t mind, I want to visit my sister-in-law and her kids later to—” He paused abruptly as well to look over at Xenessa sharply.

Xenessa’s mouth gaped as she stared at Cy, then glanced from Cy to Dhani repeatedly. “I…I…” she stammered.

“I’m going to take Dhani up now,” Keenan said, each word stretched out to emphasize his perplexity over Xenessa’s strange behavior.

Tailor didn’t bother to hide his confusion, either. He’d never seen Xenessa flustered. It was weird and oddly frightening. “I’ll bring him something to eat.” He went to the kitchen where Rowan’s cook already had a hot meal prepared for him. It was the same elderly, plump woman he’d met on his previous stay. She had a great, motherly nature about her and Tailor hadn’t been ashamed to flirt mercilessly to get her to cook his favorite meals.

She handed the tray to him then patted his arm. “It’s good to see you again. My lord let me know you were coming and thought your mate might be hungry. Give Dhani my best, will you? He’s such a good boy.”

He thanked her with a kiss on the cheek, to which she giggled. As he headed upstairs, a part of him was stunned that she remembered Dhani from the few days he’d spent at the palace before he and Keenan had run away to take on Roh Se Kahn by themselves a year ago. Then again, that Dhani had been the man he’d fallen in love with. The one who could make anyone feel good just by being himself.

When he entered the room Keenan had taken Dhani to, he saw Dhani sitting on the side of the bed and Keenan taking off his shoes. Tailor put the tray on the nightstand then took his mate’s jacket off and stacked pillows against the headboard for him to lean back on. He took his mate’s face in both hands and said, “It’s time to eat, Dhani. Can you hear me?”

Again, that hated smile met him. Almost mechanically, Dhani began eating the food Tailor had placed next to him. Tailor’s chest tightened the way it always did at the emptiness in Dhani’s eyes. His mate appeared so fragile, as though he might fall apart or waste away if Tailor wasn’t there to take care of him.

Keenan tugged on Tailor’s arm and leaned in close to whisper, “We need to talk.”

Tailor kissed his mate on the temple then left with Keenan. As soon as they were in the outer hallway, Keenan clamped a hand around his wrist and pulled him downstairs to the living room. Everyone else was there, filling their plates with the food the cook had brought out for them.

Keenan politely dismissed the cook then promptly went to the liquor cabinet and poured a drink, downing the entire glass. He screwed up his face, exhaling in disgust. “Damn, I hate this stuff, but I need it. We all do. Rowan, please,” he said, holding a bottle of gin out to his mate.

Rowan cocked his head in confusion, but proceeded to fill a glass for everyone, giving them to Keenan to pass out. When he was finished, he sat down on the couch and looked at Keenan who was now pacing in front of the fireplace. “What is it, love?”

Keenan took another gulp of his gin then clawed a hand through his hair. “That isn’t Dhani!”