Rebel Obsession (38 page)

So
she
was the reason the king had found out what had happened and that he was involved? Cordray’s stock plummeted. Attraction turned to disgust, curiosity to disdain. The rounds he had fantasized about going with her in the playroom turned to rounds in a boxing ring.

“The guards entered Io’s home and found him with Miriam in a compromising situation. They were both only partially clothed, and the scent of his semen was on her. Clearly, the two had been engaged in sexual relations. Traceon hid those memories from the guards and implanted new memories that showed them walking in to find Io sleeping in a chair where he was startled and attacked them in self-defense.”

Trace scowled at Cordray. Who was this female? How did she know what he had done? Trace met her eyes again and they glared at each other, those vividly blue eyes of hers piercing him. And just like that, any last remnant of his attraction to her vaporized. She was a threat to him. A major threat. And threats were meant to be neutralized.

King Bain fidgeted uncomfortably, obviously affected by Cordray’s recount of what had gone on between Io and his daughter.

After clearing his throat, Bain went on to ask her other questions regarding the details of the memories he had changed in the minds of the guards. Every question Cordray answered as if she owned his soul. He had always lived in fear, but what he felt now, with Cordray cutting him apart and laying him bare, went beyond fear. His breathing quickened, and his palms began to sweat.

When the king dismissed her, she exchanged one last glance with Trace then turned and walked back to her seat. He watched her go, scowling after her as she worked her stilettos and skintight clothing like a stripper. All she needed was a pole.

“Traceon,” the king said, pulling his attention back to the bench. “Do you deny these accusations?”

Trace shook his head, frowning, rubbing his palms up and down the front of his thighs. “No.”

“You admit that you willingly altered the memories of the members of the king’s guard?”

“Yes.” He flicked a furtive glance toward Cordray. She had exposed him. Stripped him. Vulnerability sat with him about as well as having his dick chopped off, and he wrestled between fear and anger. He wanted to make her pay in the most brutal way, but he was terrified of her at the same time. Why? His reaction didn’t make sense.

King Bain paused and flipped a page of his notes. “Traceon, to tamper with any person in my employ is a serious crime and can result in death. Do you understand?”

Micah made a noise of protest behind him and King Bain’s gaze shot up to issue a warning for those in attendance not to speak.

“Calm down, Micah,” Arion whispered.

King Bain looked back at Traceon. “Do you understand, Traceon?”

He nodded, a quick, jerky motion. “Yes.” He swallowed, but all that went down was dry air.

“Traceon, I will spare your life, but for your willful, criminal actions, I decree you are to be held in the king’s prison for one month, without visitation, and are to be suspended indefinitely without pay from your position as an enforcer at AKM.”

A commotion erupted behind him and Trace turned to see Micah jump out of his chair as the others tried to restrain him.

“He was following orders!” Micah’s voice echoed through the room. “Damn it, Tristan!” Micah turned on their commander. “You told him to.
You
gave the order!”

“Restrain him!” King Bain ordered his guards forward to take Micah, who continued to struggle against Arion and Malek, who fought to hold him back.

Micah’s eyes met his.

“He was just following orders, damn it! Fuck!” Micah pulled out of Malek’s and Arion’s holds and sprang forward. “Tristan gets a vacation at home for a month,” Micah said, “but Trace is imprisoned and released from AKM indefinitely? That’s bullshit!”

“That’s quite enough, Micah,” Bain said, rising. “Guards.”

The guards grabbed Micah, but he resisted, struggling against them. One of them punched him and Micah’s head whipped back. Trace’s power rose up. As if it needed much coaxing. As anxious as Cordray made him, it was a wonder he hadn’t already gone mutant.

“Don’t you touch him!” Trace growled low and deep, full of menace. “He’s my charge!” Nobody touched Micah like that. Nobody hurt Micah or they answered to him, damn it. There weren’t many Trace would lay his life down for, but Micah was one of them.

The guards ignored him and chaos erupted as Arion and Sev tried to pull Micah back while the guards swung again. Another fist connected with Micah’s jaw, and that was all it took.

Trace lunged into the fray and splayed his hand at the guards. Their bodies froze except for their eyes, which turned toward Trace in fear. He grabbed Micah with his other arm and pulled him back, hissing like a viper. He wanted to crush their skulls. He wanted to feel their brains burst in his fist for hurting Micah. Micah was his to protect, and fuck all to anyone who tried to harm him. He had already lost one brother. He wouldn’t lose another, even if Micah wasn’t his brother by blood.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Micah said, his voice gentle, his hands grabbing on to Trace’s forearm. He sounded like he was trying to tame a lion into a kitten.

More guards closed in and Trace splayed his fingers even farther, pulling them all into his realm of compulsion, halting them in their tracks. His gaze shot to Cordray, and for a moment, he wanted to pull her into his death hold, too, even though she made no move to interfere.

“Trace,” Tristan stepped forward, fear in his eyes.

“No,” Trace said. He didn’t care what happened to him, as long as nothing happened to Micah. “No one touches him but me. No one!” His voice resonated with menace, and he knew from experience his eyes had changed from pale green to vivid yellow. He could feel it. Only when he was this emotionally charged did his eyes change color like that.

They hadn’t changed color in a long time. Not since—No. He wouldn’t go there. He would keep the memories of his youth locked, especially with Peek-a-boo Bitch over there, staring at him, most likely trying to worm her way into his head again.

He was scared and angry all at once. He felt like a threatened, feral cat backed into a corner, pissed off that it couldn’t break free, back hunched, claws protracted, ears back, and fur standing straight on end. The thought of being confined for a month away from his new master scared the shit out of him. What if he lost control of his power? What if the scales tipped too far and he slipped into mutant? That was his greatest fear, and never before had he been tested to find his limits. Could he even go a month without the abuse he required to stay in control?

And how dare the guards treat Micah that way. He growled at the one who had hit Micah, crouching to the floor and pulling Micah down with him, blanketing him protectively even as Micah tried to resist.

His voice dropped to a deadly whisper, body bent, fangs bared. “No one touches Micah.”

Cordray had risen from her chair on the other side of the room and watched him with interest but didn’t make a move to interfere. Smart bitch. Because he would ice her just for her damning testimony if she took one step forward. Of everyone in the room, she was the most threatening. He was certain of that even if the idea didn’t make sense.

Everyone hovered precariously. It seemed no one knew what to do and could only wait until he calmed down before trying to approach him.

Micah patted his arm and said quietly, “It’s okay, Trace. I’m okay.”

Trace looked down to find Micah’s navy blues turned up to his. “I’m scared,” he said. How foreign the word sounded coming from him. Nothing scared him, but being threatened with prison, and faced with a tattooed succubus wearing designer pumps, fear crept in.

“I know you are.”

Trace could see in Micah’s eyes that he knew exactly what Trace was scared of, too.

He swallowed nervously. “What if I don’t make it?”

“You’ll make it. You’ll find a way. And I’ll take care of you when you’re out. You have my word. I’ll be here the moment you’re free.”

“Fuck…don’t you be late.” Trace had a feeling he would be ripped and primed with need by the time his sentence was up, if he made it that long.

“I know, brother. And I won’t be late. I promise. I’ve got your back, remember?”

“I’ve got yours.”

“I know you do.” Micah gave him a playful smack, making it harder than it needed to be. “But how ‘bout you take the day off and leave the back watch to me.” He smacked his cheek again.

Trace had a feeling Micah had hit him harder than necessary on purpose, because the sting of pain
did
calm him.

“Come on. Let me up, buddy,” Micah said. “You can let me go. I’m okay. They won’t hurt me.”

Trace slowly rose, keeping his free arm around the front of Micah’s waist protectively as his other continued to hold the guards at bay.

Micah turned to the king. “My apologies for my outburst.” He bowed his head in apology. “This is my fault. Trace is….” He paused and looked over his shoulder at Trace. “Well, he’s very protective of me.”

The king acknowledged him with a head dip of his own then looked at Trace. “That’s some power you have there, Traceon.”

Trace slowly maneuvered himself and Micah back to the podium, keeping his arm outstretched and his eyes on the guards. He wouldn’t release them until he knew Micah was safe from harm.

“Don’t worry, Traceon,” King Bain said, as if reading his thoughts. “Guards, you are not to touch Micah or any other member of Tristan’s team for the duration of this trial, with the understanding that there will be no more outbursts.” The king looked at Trace, then Micah, then Tristan and the others. “Understood?”

Everyone nodded.

“Would you release my guards now, Traceon?” King Bain said.

Trace frowned shamefully and nodded, then lowered his hand and let go of Micah at the same time. The guards fell out of compulsion and stepped away from him.

“Micah, you may return to your seat,” King Bain said.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll remain with Trace.”

King Bain sighed. “Very well.”

He probably realized that allowing Micah to stay was a good way to ensure Trace didn’t go bionic hand again.

King Bain cleared his throat and looked back down at his papers then continued now that the excitement was over. “As I was saying, Traceon, you are to be confined for one month and suspended indefinitely from your job as enforcer at AKM. You will also perform community service at the shelter two nights, or days in your case, since you’re a day walker, per week. You will be evaluated in three months, and if your performance and behavior have been satisfactory, your reinstatement at AKM will be considered.”

Trace bowed his head. He didn’t know how he would get by for the next two weeks in confinement, but even after his release, it would be no walk in the park. He took a measure of satisfaction from his work. Being an enforcer made him feel like he was somebody and not just a random face in the crowd. His powers could be put to use for good as an enforcer. What would happen over the next few months until his evaluation? Would he go crazy from the inactivity?

He looked at Micah.

“Don’t worry, brother. I’ll take care of you. We’ll get through this. Trust me.”

Micah’s reassurance helped, but it only went so far. There was only so much Micah could do for him. Already, he could feel his mind slipping into the past and to the blood brother he had lost with his father after his mother’s death. Where was Brak now? Had he survived? Sometimes Trace thought he could feel his twin, but most of the time he felt nothing. He didn’t want to be alone and idle, where his thoughts could open up to the past, but he didn’t have a choice.

“Guards, shackle him.” King Bain signaled the guards forward.

They approached him warily, clearly not wanting to set him off.

“Here, let me.” Micah stepped forward and grabbed the chained cuffs from the guards. “I think I need to do it, anyway. Don’t I, buddy?”

Trace glanced from the guards to the metal cuffs and heavy steel chains as they passed from hand to hand. Then, he slowly lifted his gaze to Micah’s. This was his master. Micah was the one who would set it all right for him.

But before Micah could shackle him, another guard burst through the door and rushed inside.

“My lord!”

Everyone jumped and turned toward the commotion as more guards poured into the room.

Donovan ran forward with a sense of urgency.

King Bain rose. “What’s going on here? Why have you—?”

“Miriam’s gone!” Donovan gasped for air as if he’d run the one hundred meter dash in record time. “She’s gone!”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Trace was suddenly forgotten, Miriam’s disappearance taking center stage.

Everyone in the room shot to action, surging away from their chairs, but no one moved faster than King Bain, who leaped over the bench and rushed forward.

“What?”

“She escaped, my lord. She’s gone.”

“Where is she? Were you able to track her?”

“Yes, but I fear for her safety.” Donovan gasped for air.

“Why?” King Bain’s face had lost all color.

“She was not….” Donovan stopped and visibly trembled. From fear? “She was not herself when she left.”

“What do you mean?” King Bain was beside himself as he gripped Donovan’s shoulders.

Donovan grimaced as if he didn’t want to speak openly in front of such a large crowd.

“Tell me!” Bain shook him.

Donovan tensed. “She was in withdrawal.” He shook his head. “Violent and despondent.”

The room practically exploded with tension.

King Bain recoiled, fear and raw emotion overtaking him.

“I don’t like this.” Cordray appeared at the king’s side and turned on Donovan. “Did Miriam know of Bain’s intentions to execute Io?”

“I don’t know, but it’s possible.”

Cordray’s brow creased, and Donovan went still, his eyes suddenly vacant. “Shit,” Cordray said.

“What?” The king grabbed her wrist as the guard reanimated.

“She’s in a female
calling.
” Cordray cursed again.