Desire After Dark: Lords of Pleasure (27 page)

It reached through time and space to keep him trapped in razor-sharp talons, no matter how he fought to escape it. But he kept the darkness drawn around him like a cloak of black velvet.

The passing of a day, a week, a millennium, meant nothing in this murky place of distorted dreams. What was this place? Yes, this must be where broken souls went when neither the gods nor Satan would have them.

Pain, loss, suffering. All gone. Not like on the surface.

Up there waited the stench of death. Blood everywhere. On himself, on the female he loved. On the men and women in splattered white coats and green scrubs who worked feverishly over his inert body while his spirit watched from above and struggled for release, trying to break the thread that Aisa inexplicably refused to cut. Time and time again they pulled him back into
that wrecked shell, and he resisted, crushed and suffocating with every ragged breath.

Finally, too weak to fight them any longer, he’d let go and had fallen into a place where he didn’t have to remember a certain hellish nightmare scratching at the fringes of his mind, or even be a part of it. He burrowed deeper, deeper, into the darkness where he might’ve stayed forever…until tiny fingers of light began to penetrate the gloom, seeking his private sanctuary. Not understanding, he hid from them, or tried, but eventually they found him anyway.

Luc, come back to us. We love you.

It’s going to be all right. We’re here for you.

We miss you. Open your eyes, brother.

The voices floated in nothingness, the words meaningless, sliding through his grasp like grains of sand. He didn’t want to hold on to them, but he couldn’t remember anymore why he was staying away. The voices were tender, filled with love, and he listened to their comforting rhythm. Sometimes they would recede for endless stretches of time, and his dark corner became a cold, black shroud. So he began to reach for them.

Luc, can you hear me?

Wake up, pretty boy, so we can play.

By slow degrees the blackness began to fade, and he surrendered himself to whatever the Fates had in store. The voices, more distinct and familiar now, called to him constantly. He began to respond, the choice no longer his to make. Maybe it never was.

Once, when the darkness receded, white light shone into his eyes, exploding in his brain. The agony was not to be believed. He moaned, or thought he did, and found himself choking as he gagged on something lodged in his throat.

Can’t breathe. Hurts, hurts…

There were urgent murmurs, hands holding him down. Others pulled at the thing lodged in his throat, and he panicked. Fought them.

“Easy, Lord Fontaine,” a competent voice soothed. “You’re in the Southern Coalition Hospital. You’re going to be all right. The tube is out. Just breathe nice and slow.”

Hospital. Why? There were more comforting words, soothing fingers on his brow, and the pain disappeared if only for a little while. He sank down again, but not in the shadow-world of before. He slept, a deep and healing sleep, but it was not dreamless. The snatches of dreams were darkly disturbing, and he’d toss restlessly until familiar voices soothed him again.

When he awakened once, sometime later, he became aware of soft sheets against his skin. He heard a rustle of paper and quiet murmurs of people talking—about him, he could tell.

“Do you think he remembers?”

“Not yet. He’s too calm.”

“When he comes around, should we request sedatives?”

“Not unless it’s totally necessary. We’ll see when he wakes up.”

The first speaker’s name came to him, and then the second: Soren and Aldric. These were his brothers, whom he loved. Even through the fog he could recall that now, and it gave him comfort, so he slept.

When he surfaced again, someone was holding his hand. It was a female’s touch, light and welcome. The kiss on his cheek was welcome, too. “Wake up, sweetie. Open your eyes so your overprotective brothers and that demon watchdog of yours will stop pacing the floor every day. We can tell you’re in there, getting better.”

He frowned inside because, while the female’s voice was
pleasant and familiar, it was not the one he wanted to hear. It didn’t call to him like…He couldn’t remember.

Harley. The female sitting with him was Soren’s mate.
Mate.

Something in him recoiled from the term, but he couldn’t think why. He loved Harley like a sister.

After her visit, they seemed to be able to tell whenever he surfaced. Perhaps he made small movements or sounds; he didn’t know. But their entreaties for him to open his eyes never let up and became hard to ignore. Finally, for the first time, he strained to obey, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. It seemed to be encased in cement, and his lids wouldn’t budge. Exhaustion thwarted his efforts again and again, but he refused to give up. Some basic emotion he couldn’t name kept driving him on.

Eventually, he was bound to succeed. Late one evening—he could tell by the absence of the daytime sounds and by the darkness in the room—he awakened. He stirred some, shifting around in bed.

And simply opened his eyes.

That he was flat on his back in bed wasn’t hard to figure out. Little else made sense. A dim light glowed somewhere near his head, but he couldn’t find the source. The effect was like looking at a single oncoming headlight at night through heavy fog. He couldn’t see anything else at all. He blinked once, twice, but the film over his eyes wouldn’t clear. Reality hit and alarm shot through him.

Gods, I’m blind!

He knew his name, and his brothers’. Harley. Jordy. But nothing else. Shouldn’t there be something? There was a huge hole where the rest of his life should be. He was in the Coalition’s special hospital for paranormals. He remembered a doctor saying that. So, something terrible must have happened.

Something so horrible, his brain was shutting it out. Something unspeakable.

The flash of a blade caught in his mind’s eye, silver sinking through flesh. Screams and blood. His screams. Loss. He’d lost something. Some
one
? “Nooo!”

Luc’s howl of fear echoed off the walls, and activity erupted around him.

“Oh saints! He’s awake,” Harley called. “Soren, get Aldric and the doctors!”

Suddenly people were all around him, acting quickly to calm him. They were shining that damned light in his eyes and asking endless questions he couldn’t answer because of the awful pressure in his head. He didn’t
want
to remember.

“Let’s go,” he heard the doctor order. “I want some tests done, stat.”

Then he was whisked out of the room, his bed rolling. He flew down one corridor after another, the sensation making him sick to his stomach. It was a relief when his bed was parked.

They did tests, one after another, his body encased in that plastic tube that took pictures. He couldn’t remember what it was called. And the doctors whispered among themselves quietly, forgetting that with his vampire hearing, he could make out what they were saying anyway.

They speculated endlessly.

“Is he blind? His pupils are not responsive, yet he suffered no head trauma.”

“Brain damage?”

“None.”

“Then what the fuck is wrong with him? Why doesn’t he respond?”

“Got no gods-damned clue.”

And then someone said in sympathy, “I heard he lost his mate in that big battle with the wolves outside the city. She was murdered right in front of him.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that story on the news. Shit, that’s rough.”

Mate? What mate?

The images began like quick snapshots. Werewolves. A great battle. Swords. Blood. Valkyries descending from the heavens, aided by a god.

One beautiful Valkyrie in particular, slashing her way to his side.

And the floodgates opened. His mind shattered with grief and despair, and he screamed, nearly tearing the tube apart in his desperation to get out. But he was trapped, and hands held him down while a needle slid into his arm.

“Noo,” he sobbed brokenly. “No.”

“You idiots! He heard every word you guys said!”

The drug eased him into oblivion until his fractured mind couldn’t form her name or recall why it hovered on his lips.

As he sank into the arms of sleep, he thought he felt sweet arms come around him and hold him close. Comforting him, letting him know everything would be all right, reminding him.

Mate. Love.

Sleep, Luc. All will be well, you’ll see.

So he did. But only for the one who held his heart.

“I
need to see Luc.” Kass’s demand echoed loudly in Odin’s office. The god looked up from a stack of papers on his desk, his face impassive as ever. Frankly, it was damned infuriating, his steadfast calm in the face of her anger.

Of her despair.

“You know that’s not possible right now, Kass. We’re due on Olympus within the hour, and I need you to remain focused on presenting yourself with strong assuredness and answering their questions honestly.”

“You said I couldn’t see him
now
. Does that mean there might be a
later
?” she pressed.

“I’m not committing to anything until we see the gods.”

Stubborn asshole. “So, is this where you tell me
why
we’re going to see them?”

He shook his head. “It’s far better if you don’t know; that way they can’t accuse me of influencing your answers.”

“You suck.”

“I sincerely hope your opinion is different after today.”

“I’m going crazy here, Odin! I can’t stand not knowing what’s happening to Luc or how his recovery is progressing,” she said in a tortured voice. She wasn’t above begging when it came to her vampire. “Can’t you at least give me something? A tidbit of information to keep me going? Anything at all.”

He studied her, clenching his fingers on the desktop. “I’m not sure it will do you any favors to hear what you can’t change.”

Dread coursed through her body. “He’s suffering, isn’t he? I need to go to him! How in fucking Hades did it do any good for me to choose the short life thread if
he
is the one who will suffer the most for it?” She was shouting and couldn’t help it.

“Because his suffering is finite, Kassandra.” Rising from his seat, he made his way around the desk and stopped before her. “That is the sacrifice you made—for his suffering to have an end, while yours goes on forever.”

Dread became gut-clenching fear. “So he’s not really going to be all right? Luc wasn’t supposed to live in pain! I was tricked into making a bargain for a different outcome than the one I wanted!”

“You were not tricked,” he said gently. “You just made the bargain without totally understanding all the possible outcomes.”

Desperately, she grabbed his hands. “I consigned myself here to an eternity of loneliness so he would have the chance to find happiness with another mate someday. Please, fix this.”

“His pain is not the doing of the gods, or of the Fates. You made the bargain without considering what would happen to your
mate’s
heart should you choose this path. You failed to consider
his
perspective.
His
loss. You gave him life, but you left him without hope. Without love.” He paused. “Without you.”

She stared at the god, and what he was saying penetrated her thick skull. Her hand came over her mouth, and the tears welled. They overflowed, trickling down her face. “What have I done?”

“You acted with a woman’s heart, not a warrior’s—that’s what you did. And now we must appeal to the rest of the gods and see if there’s anything to be salvaged of this situation.” He sighed. “Damnation, that was more than I should have said. Take some time and calm yourself. I’ll be out to fetch you soon.”

Woodenly, she nodded, then turned and left the office. Hardly paying attention to where she was going, she headed outside to the pretty gardens and seated herself next to a fountain. Knowing she hadn’t achieved what she’d bargained to do after all—restore Luc’s life
and
give him a chance at happiness—filled her with sorrow. How had she managed to screw everything up so badly?

This is what you get when you tamper with fate. There is no escaping destiny, and you should know that by now.

Kass wasn’t certain how long she sat waiting for Odin to appear. Time ran together, and it could’ve been minutes or hours. All she knew was the endless misery of being unable to get to Luc to beg him not to give up, as well as the agony of knowing that to be a selfish request—to live for her when she had broken his heart.

Sometime later, footsteps approached, and she roused herself to see Odin coming toward her, his face not revealing any more than it had before. The god held out a hand for her, and she understood that he was doing more than offering her a hand up—he was silently asking for her trust.

She’d give it to him, just this once more.

The moment the god wrapped his fingers around hers, they
disappeared from his garden. Almost instantly, she found herself standing with him in a huge hall that resembled a court of law. In fact, that was exactly what it was, though not like those found in the earth realm.