Chapter Nineteen

Rhys gave a sharp nod, face pale, jaw clenched, the fire in his eyes reinforcing Luka’s resolve to rescue Calan’s son. He glanced at the farmer, and the terrified hope in his expression came close to breaking him.

Calan rose, Tarian’s cap clenched in one hand, and his voice shook when he spoke, “You would do this for me? Why, when I have betrayed Rhys to his enemy?”

Rhys answered unexpectedly, fury lacing his words, “No one carries the blame here except Aethan.” He held Luka’s gaze until the knot of pain around his heart loosened. “Calan, you will take us to this cottage you speak of.”

Calan’s fear spiked. “I dare not. If we should fail… Aethan would murder Tarian before my eyes, in payment.” His thick chest heaved, undone by the panic surging through him.

Luka immediately put a hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tense and bunch while a shudder ran his strong body. “Be at peace. We will find Tarian and return him to you.”

“But Aethan—”

“Had better keep his distance,” Rhys hissed through his clenched teeth.

“Aethan will have no knowledge of our presence until we are far away. He will never know of your involvement in this,” Luka assured him.

“How will I explain my son’s sudden appearance?”

Luka dropped all pretense, the conviction of his words echoed by a rumble in the distance. “I will not allow Aethan to bring any more pain to this world.”

Rhys’s breath caught behind him while Calan’s dark eyes widened with awe. He took a step back and swept Luka a low bow. “My lord. I am at your service. If it is your wish, I will go with you…”

Heat rose in Luka’s face, embarrassed he had lost control, if only for an instant. The power in him was not his, but a gift of the earth and nothing he should display. He was not a man for others to follow.

“There is no need, Calan. But send your good wishes with us.”

Luka turned toward the door, to be stopped by Calan’s hand on his shoulder. “It is late, my lord. Will you stay? There is food, and blankets for your comfort tonight.”

“No. My impulse is to hurry. You will know soon enough if we succeed.”

He passed Rhys with a nod, not meeting his gaze, and fetched his cloak from the hook by the door and stomped into his boots. Rhys did the same, and they exited the warm farmhouse. Rhys gasped at the cold and instantly Luka swiveled and pulled him into a close embrace, kissing his face and his wet eyes.

“I am so sorry, Rhys. Will you stay here until I return? You should not have to go back to that terrible place.”

“And you, my sweet witch, are not going there alone.” Rhys’s tone was firm, and Luka eased back to look at him. It was fully dark now, though the light from the moon shone on his face, and Luka could clearly see the stubborn set of his lips and the anger smoldering in his eyes.

“Do not do anything imprudent,” he warned, feeling the recklessness in his lover.

“I will see that boy freed,” Rhys said firmly. “Will you call the horses?”

Luka sighed and sent a thought into the night. The stallion’s bray rang through the darkness and soon hooves thundered across the field in a sharp crack of ice.

“Where is the Fae?” Rhys asked, a frown between his brows when the horses drew up without their bright companion.

Luka shrugged. “The woodland folk do as they choose. She will find us, if that is her whim.”

They mounted and Luka led them across the farmland to the road heading for Sweetbrier. As much as he desired Rhys to stay behind, safe, it felt good to have him riding at his side again. He slanted him a look to find Rhys’s eyes on him, and his pulse quickened. Rhys nudged their horses closer together, reached out to grab the back of his head, and pulled him in for a kiss.

Luka clung to him and tasted Rhys’s sigh in his mouth. Rhys bunched a fist in his cloak over his breast when Luka eased back, halting him.

“You can’t leave me like that again,” Rhys admonished, sounding more drained than angry, shaking him a little. “It serves little purpose. You know l will follow.”

“I suppose you will,” Luka acknowledged, and smiled at Rhys’s glower, barely discernable in the dark, adding boldly, “Perhaps you are meant to be with me always.”

Rhys’s breath was sharp in the quiet and he clenched his hand tighter in Luka’s cloak, leaning close. “Toy with me, Witch, and I will pull you to the ground and fuck you right here, no question.”

Luka shivered, part lust, but mostly regret for Rhys’s turmoil. “I am sorry, dear heart. You would have tried to stop me had I stayed with you. I came here in hatred and wrath to extract the truth from one of Aethan’s puppets, only to discover he was another victim of the sorcerer’s practiced cruelty. I’m grateful you stopped me from doing something I would regret all my life.”

Rhys grunted, abruptly releasing Luka. “Perhaps you will have more trust in me in the future.”

Luka nodded, finding nothing to say. They traveled in silence, lost in their own thoughts as the night deepened, moonlight making it possible to trot the horses at times. At intervals, they’d stop to rest and managed a few hours of sleep while the moon set. Dawn found them approaching the sleeping town of Sweetbrier, which they skirted to the east, climbing the steep trail through the thickening woods to the cottage where Rhys had been held captive years ago.

Luka’s heart grew heavy as the sun rose, and the trail became clear to read. No one had traveled that way in days if not weeks, and he nudged the stallion to a quicker pace, concerned with what they’d find ahead. In moments they came to the cottage and drew rein, Luka taking an anxious breath. The dilapidated structure appeared the same as he remembered, moss on the roof, saplings crowding the moldering walls. The air of neglect and decay sent a shudder of revulsion through him.

They dismounted and cautiously approached the sagging porch. Luka wrinkled his nose at the scent of rot as he sought for Aethan’s presence.

Rhys halted at the broken steps, his voice sounding choked when he spoke, “Is there a ward, Luka? I have a great loathing to go inside.”

Luka drew his brows together in concern. “There is, though it is in tatters. Aethan’s abandoned this place.”

Rhys visibly paled, and Luka pressed his lips together, bracing for whatever waited inside. Setting each foot with care, they climbed the steps and crossed the porch, Rhys hissing when nausea struck them as they passed through Aethan’s ward. The door proved to be ajar and Luka pushed it open against the uneven floor within, not wanting to think what its unlocked state implied.

They waited a moment for silence to settle, Rhys’s uneven breathing a knife in Luka’s chest. Luka would have spared him this nightmare if he could. The trapdoor leading to the cellar was thankfully closed, and Luka purposefully lead them to the door on the opposite wall, praying to find Tarian there instead of the place of Rhys’s intense suffering. This door proved unlocked as well and Luka peered inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the morning sunlight filtering through ragged curtains.

The bed drew his gaze instantly, and a cry left his lips. Aching with pity and fear, he approached the still form sprawled on the filthy sheets, willing Rhys to remain at the door. Tarian lay unmoving, naked, eyes sunken, lips cracked and bleeding. Bruises and open sores ran his too-thin body, bluish with cold, and he surprised Luka when his chest rose and fell on a shallow breath.

“Fetch water,” he said urgently, noting the empty bowl beside the table. How long had he been without the life-giving liquid? He nudged the tortured lips open with a gentle finger and winced at his partially swollen tongue. Perhaps two days. Luka placed a hand on his chest, felt the racing heartbeat, the quick breaths he took.

“Tarian?” he murmured, brushing the dull hair from his forehead, tangled from sweat that had dried days ago, the brilliant red still striking against his pale skin. Returning footsteps thumped across the cottage and Luka slid an arm under the trembling body, lifted Tarian slightly. Without a word, Rhys joined them and tilted the water flask to Tarian’s lips, allowing him a trickle of water.

Luka’s heart jumped when Tarian coughed and his long lashes fluttered against his waxy skin, parting on eyes the color of a summer sky. Confusion and pain swam in those light depths, and he clutched feebly at Luka’s arm, obviously disoriented and dizzy from severe dehydration.

“Easy, Tarian. We’re friends,” Rhys said huskily as he offered another sip from the flask with an unsteady hand. Tarian whimpered and chased the flask with his lips when Rhys pulled it away. Rhys made a sound of pain and Luka quickly cupped his face with his free hand, forcing Rhys to meet his gaze. That Rhys saw himself in the tortured boy was evident in his anguished expression, and Luka’s heart bled for both of them.

“Peace, dear heart,” he murmured, caressing Rhys’s pale cheek. He rarely entered another’s mind, but this time sent a tendril of thought to Rhys, asking to share his pain. Tears gathered in Rhys’s eyes, and he nodded, then let down the barriers in his mind. Love flooded to Luka, and then by slow, poisonous drips, the awakened terror and pain of Rhys’s torment passed to his heart. Luka sent compassion and his deep love in return and saw with gratitude when the horror left him and Rhys drew a ragged breath.

Rhys gave him a tremulous smile and turned his head to kiss his palm. Luka sighed, taking a moment to settle Rhys’s pain with his own, then shifted to Tarian. This would be harder. The boy appeared to have been fed, only recently abandoned when Aethan gave chase to Luka. He would need water and food and safety to recover. But it was the horror crawling in his mind that troubled Luka. It had taken Rhys months of Luka’s tender care before the black despair lessened and Rhys could sleep without nightmares. They didn’t have that kind of time now. Aethan was closing in.

Rhys gave Tarian one more swallow of water, then Luka eased him back on the bed. Tarian watched him with a frantic gaze and Luka turned to him fully, placed his hands on either side of his head.

“Let me help,” he urged and pushed gently into his mind. Tarian resisted and Luka waited, hoping…

Tarian’s walls unexpectedly dropped, and Luka fell into horror, pain its merciless companion. Aethan kept at him with his small tortures of fingernails and teeth, the agony of his cock. The relentless assault of nightmare and brutal visions and bursts of indescribable pleasure tearing his mind apart. Luka cried out, the onslaught overwhelming, too great to bear. But Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder, a reminder of love, and Luka swallowed down the anguish pouring from Tarian until the last bitter drop fell into his heart.

Luka gasped, pulling away from Tarian. Climbing to his feet, body in agony, he stumbled to the window and stared blindly through the tattered curtains while he suffered Aethan’s torments. His tears flowed, and Luka let them fall, knowing it would be some while before the horror and clinging dread eased from his soul, though he had little time to spare for it.