B00XXAC6U6 EBOK (21 page)

In sheer agony, he dropped to his knees and roared into the night sky. This was Margetta’s work. He could feel it in his bones.

But how had he gotten here? Was it truly because he’d trusted the wrong person all these years?

A cool night breeze blew along the deck, lifting his hair.

In the end, this was all his fault.

When he thought back to the massacre, especially to the horror of finding his beautiful sister dead, he’d fallen into his grief then and there. He remembered feeling like he’d been thrown into a pit he’d never be able to escape.

Regan had been with him. She’d sought comfort in his arms, but he’d pushed her away. Somehow, she was responsible for the massacre, at least that’s what he’d chosen to believe. Whether she’d enthralled him or not, his love, desire and need for her had kept him from Camberlaune.

For a long time afterward, Ben had remained silent. But at what moment had he started to support Ian’s conviction Regan had been to blame for Raven’s Overlook? Was it Ben who had first suggested Regan had enthralled him? He could recall Ben hinting:
hadn’t Regan’s eyes turned silver on several occasions
? If only Ian had been in Camberlaune that night, that’s what Ben had said to him. Repeatedly.

So, Ian had made Regan his scapegoat. But the last thing he could have handled at any point following the death of his sister, was admitting he’d been culpable. He wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. His guilt had ruled him.

As he lay the entire situation out in his mind, one question arose. Why had he never doubted Ben’s loyalty? Why had it never crossed his mind that Ben might be a traitor?

He had only to think back to the night of the massacre and he knew why. When Ben had found his brother’s body, he’d gone wild with grief and had been completely inconsolable. And not just that night. Ben had been out of his mind for weeks.

Looking back, Ian knew Ben hadn’t been putting on a show; his grief had been real. Ian could only suppose that whatever the nature of his plans, which had included the murder of his brother, the reality afterward had been something entirely different. Ben had experienced real pain for what he’d done and had been a wrecked man for months, eyes reddened day after day. Ben had lost weight and muscle, something warriors should never do. Killing his brother had hurt Ben

Because Ben had been grief-stricken, Ian had thought they’d suffered in the same way. Now Ian realized how wrong he’d been. Feeling bad after the fact was a far different cry from choosing
not
to commit a treasonous, murderous act in the first place. Ian’s view of Ben had always been slanted by the depth of Ben’s grief. He’d misinterpreted the signs completely and had placed his absolute faith in Ben. Now Ben had control of Regan.

Ian had little doubt as well that if he had continued to see Regan after the massacre, Ben would have found some other means of forging a divisive wall between them. Maybe he would have continued killing off more Camberlaune Realm-folk until Ian’s guilt sent Regan away. Or maybe he would have simply had her killed.

And all this time, Regan had been guilty of only one thing: Loving him to the point of madness, just as she’d said.

Slowly, Ian rose from the deck. Something profound shifted within him in that moment. Maybe he’d run from Regan all those years ago because of his guilt about what had happened at Raven’s Overlook, but he wouldn’t anymore. He realized now that if he’d stuck with Regan, instead of shunning her as the problem, Ben’s treachery would have long since risen to the surface.

He had no doubt Ben believed he’d won now that he had Regan in his clutches. But every bone in Ian’s body knew differently. He was going after Ben and nothing would stop him.

The only question that remained was how to find Ben.

He began to pace again, yet this time he refused to allow guilt to swamp him. Instead, new ideas began to flow.

His thoughts turned toward Regan and how she’d doggedly worked to find the counter-spell by understanding Margetta’s initial spell. She’d analyzed it and broken it down into several parts. She’d focused on only that, until she’d found the right formula.

He needed to do something similar. He turned his attention therefore to Ben. He was the key. Even if the Ancient Fae was involved, Ian only needed to analyze Ben in order to discover where he would have taken Regan.

And he knew exactly where to start.

Rising swiftly into the night air, he flew east in the direction of his Communication Center.

CHAPTER TEN

Regan had a battle going on within her mind as Ben drank from her wrist. She wanted and needed him because she was a blood rose, but her heart lived elsewhere and beat now with a fire she knew as Ian.

She loved Ian. She always had and this time with him, as transient as it had felt at the beginning, had only deepened her love.

She felt foolish in a way she couldn’t explain, as though centuries of separation hadn’t mattered one whit in how she really felt, would always feel.

But the blood rose in her was fixated on Ben, only on Ben, on resolving forever his chronic blood starvation, on making him stronger as a vampire and a warrior, on taking him into her body.

Desire for him flowed in tempting waves until she could hardly breathe. Thank the Goddess Margetta had left, but the Ancient Fae had said something about regrouping and had vanished. She hadn’t levitated and left by the front door; she’d simply disappeared, as Davido and Vojalie could, another sign of the woman’s power.

And again, Regan had the sense Margetta wasn’t worried, as though she had plans in place that no one could defeat. The only thing she’d asked is that Ben get rid of Ian for good. Ben had made it clear he had no other intention.

But Regan had to do something or she knew how this time would end, especially since she could already feel Ben’s mating vibration probing to gain entrance within her chest. Once he did, once his energy touched hers, she felt pretty certain she wouldn’t be able to resist her overwhelming need to give herself to him completely.

As Ben groaned and suckled at her wrist, she dove deep, falling into the upper portion of her meditative state. She couldn’t go completely because she needed to stay in tune with Ben’s moment-to-moment intentions and to take action against him when necessary.

Goddess help her. She was in serious trouble.

And where was Ian? Could he ever find her?

~ ~ ~

A few minutes after leaving the Dauphaire Mountains, Ian arrived at the Communication Center in Somerstrong. The city was one of the largest in Camberlaune, built along both banks of the Peralin River. Lights glimmered from dozens of restaurants and shops fronting the broad stretch of water.

He made his descent, landing by the front door. Once inside the center, the staff turned toward him with warm greetings. He put on his most casual face, not wanting to give anything away. He needed information and he was pretty sure a series of direct questions wouldn’t yield the results he was hoping for. Ben had chosen the Communication Center workers personally and each man here was loyal to him. As much as he wanted to lay it all out and explain what Ben had been up to, it would take way too long.

He gave them some details about the battle at Margetta’s fortress and the subsequent evacuation of most of her army before the combined forces could engage. He added that he and Stone had a plan to bring all the mastyrs together to develop a major offensive against the Ancient Fae.

The staff, made up of three fae and a garrulous troll named Scott, gave shouts with fists raised.

When they’d settled down, he began his real inquiry with a ruse. “I’m working on a celebration feast for some of my staff with Ben as the guest of honor. He’s been an incredible asset to me over the years, as you all know, but I want to keep this on the down low. Can you promise to keep my visit here a secret as well as anything else we might discuss?”

An effusive rush of ‘yes, mastyr’ followed.

“Good.” All three waited in anticipation. “I’m thinking an event at the Hungry Troll. How does that sound? And free beer.”

Another shout, along with nods of agreement and a couple of ‘hell, yeahs’, followed.

For the next few minutes, he chatted about the arrangements. Seeing their eagerness and how relaxed each was, he added, “By the way. Any of you know where Ben is right now? He took off from the gorge saying he had business at one of his homes and I’ve been to each but can’t find him. I don’t suppose he’s checked in?”

Each shook his head, except for Scott who had compressed his lips and looked ready to burst with information. Trolls excelled at gossip.

Ian didn’t go to him first. Instead, he kept fishing. “I know he has a townhouse here, a small farm near Clarefield and a beach cottage to the south. Anywhere else I could look, maybe someplace few people know about?”

The three fae shrugged their shoulders.

Scott’s face had turned bright red from withholding information. For trolls, the sharing of any kind of news or details was one of the great pleasures in life.

Ian didn’t press him, not in front of the others. Instead, he headed to the door. “I’m not too concerned. When he shows up, tell him to give me a shout.”

He moved into the hallway, but only a few feet, and pretended to be checking emails on his cell. He was pretty sure the troll wouldn’t be far behind.

The door to the Communication Center creaked open and Ian lifted his gaze to Scott. The troll closed the door behind him, then tip-toed over to Ian. He cast furtive glances left and right, but the hall was deserted. Scott would have made a terrible spy.

Ian held his gaze. “I suspected you might have something to tell me.”

The troll bounced from one foot to the next. “It’s something I figured out a while back. A friend of mine does contract work around Mercata and got a call to work on a property just north of there in the mountains. At first he wouldn’t tell me who his client was.”

“And you learned it was Mastyr Ben?” Ian was pretty sure Ben would have wiped the workers’ minds the last day of construction. Ian said as much to the troll.

Scott’s head bobbed. “Here’s the thing. My friend let Ben’s name slip over a couple of pints just two days before Mastyr Ben took care of his memory. I’ve remained silent, because Ben ought to have his privacy.” He then shifted his gaze away from Ian and chewed on his thick lower lip.

“There’s more, isn’t there? As in you might know how to get there?”

Scott nodded, but this time he looked guilty as hell.

Ian patted his shoulder. “I won’t tell Ben how I found his home, I promise. But I really need to talk to him. It’s about Margetta, something he should know.”

With the mention of the Ancient Fae and a hint this might have something to do with the ongoing war, Scott’s expression lightened. “I followed him home one night,” he confessed. “I know it was wrong. But when he took his car instead of flying, I couldn’t help myself.” Very troll.

Ian addressed the only important issue. He knew where Mercata was, but he wanted confirmation. “So, we’re talking the Venaset Range?”

“Yes. Not far from the hamlet of Warrejet.” He then gave detailed directions that sent Ian’s heartrate skyrocketing.

“Don’t worry about Ben. I won’t reveal my source. Okay?”

When Scott returned to the center, Ian levitated along the hall then shoved the front door wide. He hit the skies once more.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d told so many lies. Not that he cared. Right now, he needed to get to Regan before Ben bonded with her. Nothing else mattered.

He flew as fast as he could to the east, to Mercata. But what would he find once he arrived?

~ ~ ~

Sitting on the side of Ben’s bed, Regan worked hard to hold her meditative state. She found that as long as she stayed there, she was impervious to the bond Ben was attempting to forge.

The problem was he’d taken to hurting her in an attempt to bring her back.

He slapped her again, hard across the face. She fell to her side, then righted herself, yet somehow her meditation held. Ben’s mating vibration once more flowed through her body, hunting for hers. But the meditation allowed her to keep it hidden.

For the moment, she was safe but it was only a reprieve. Each strike of his hand became more painful, more jarring. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he discovered that with enough force he could disrupt her concentration completely.

At the same time, she had to battle her own powerful desire to rise like a geyser and embrace Ben with both arms. The urge, because she was a blood rose, was nearly overwhelming. She’d felt the same way with Stone when he’d arrived unexpectedly at Ian’s gorge house.

Ben’s voice rolled through the room. “Come back to me, Regan. I don’t want to hurt you, but I need you.”

The core of her being shuddered with a compulsion to do what he asked of her. Regardless, she remained very still, keeping her mind quiet, and sublimating her blood rose drive.

The next blow was so hard, however, she fell off the side of the bed and landed face down on the floor. He straddled her next then pulled on her hair, forcing her head up and back.

The combination of factors, of having been struck to the floor and the agony of her hair being pulled had its effect. Her meditative state vanished. She was fully present in the bedroom now and his mating vibration hummed deep inside her chest.

When her own mating frequency responded, she cried out telepathically.
Ian, help me! I can’t hold out any longer.

Because she’d used telepathy, Margetta’s spell struck as though an axe severed her skull. She screamed in pain.

~ ~ ~

Ian heard Regan’s telepathic cry for help at the same moment he arrived at the Venaset Mountains. He doubled his speed, whipping through the troll’s directions. He found Ben’s driveway set back from the main road, just as Scott had described it.

When he levitated about fifteen feet up the drive, however, he felt a powerful compulsion to turn and leave the property. A spell prevented any Realm-person from simply walking up to the house. He couldn’t see much of anything, either, except a lot of forest. He felt confused as well, more indications a spell was at work.