My Forever Page 17

  They formed a tight circle around him and closed their eyes. The displacement lasted only a few seconds, and when Kyle opened his eyes again he felt his mouth drop open as well. The room they were now in was more like a cavernous chamber. The roof was a good twenty feet above their heads and gold leafing covered the walls in intricate, alien designs. Plush, white carpeting covered the expansive floor with tall, elegantly crafted furniture and statues placed strategically throughout the room.

  A single chair, obviously the throne, dominated the far side of the room. It stood ten feet tall and looked to be made entirely of gold. The other side was taken up by two large doors also crafted with odd depictions of what appeared to be animals and Tsielen warriors.

  “Damn it, she’s not here,” Bastian hissed.

  “What is this?”

  The voice wasn’t particularly loud but it echoed in the vast reaches of the room. As one they turned to see two guards advancing on them from the sides of the platform the throne rested on. Each was dressed in a white and red uniform with a thick belt about the waist lined with multiple blades.

  “We’re here to speak with the Queen.” Bastian’s voice rang with command but it had little effect on the men.

  “No one sees the Queen without an appointment. Guards!” The man drew a short sword from his belt as the doors to the room opened to admit three more men armed with weapons just as deadly. One pulled a knife from a scabbard strapped to his back and flung it with alarming speed. Bastian spun Jules around to shield his body then kicked the sword from the first guard’s hand. It wasn’t until then that Kyle saw the blade buried hilt-deep in Bastian’s shoulder.

  “Come to me!” Bastian shouted. Punching the second guard in the jaw, he spread his arms around as much as the group as he could and prepared to port.

  “Stop!”

  Everyone froze at the imperious voice that boomed throughout the chamber. Kyle couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The only thing that held him steady was the solid strength of the man he knew would protect them at all costs. Only when Bastian turned to face the newcomer could he open his eyes to look as well.

  A woman as tall as Lucas with a trim yet muscular physique stood on the steps of the dais. Long auburn hair created a wavy curtain around flowing white and gold robes, and shrewd grey eyes assessed the situation with cool sagacity. It was the aura of absolute authority, however, that was her most remarkable feature.

  “What goes on here?”

  Bastian reached back and pulled the knife from his shoulder with only a grunt to show for his pain. Kyle didn’t miss the fact that he tucked it into his belt. “We have an urgent matter to discuss with your Highness if you’ll permit us to speak.”

  The Queen walked slowly to her throne and sat down, keeping her cutting gaze on them the whole time. At the slight dip of her head, the guards holstered their weapons and took several steps back. “You are Tsielen and therefore should know of our laws. Why did you violate them by bringing humans into my court?”

  “They wanted to come as proof to the treachery of Connor, the commander of the Mackaeo, and a small group of his men. He’s been murdering humans for their lands and money for years and has recently begun kidnapping humans for slaves. These humans would have been sold by him had I not rescued them.”

  The Queen tipped her head back and laughed. “You expect me to charge my commander with treason based on the word of humans? The Mackaeo are forbidden to have dealings with them in any form.”

  Her complete disregard for them angered Kyle and he found his voice. “Your Majesty?” A collective hiss sounded from the guards and he found himself pinned by the Queen’s disdainful gaze.

  “You had better have a good reason for speaking out of turn, little human.”

  Kyle thought of Lucas, of spending the rest of his life without his Master, and knew that he had all the reason in the world. “Connor kidnapped me and my mate Lu…Deluc, and threatened to kill me if Deluc didn’t help him commit these crimes. My mate agreed—not because my death would mean his own, but because he would do anything to keep me safe.”

  The Queen pondered his words for several seconds. “I recall this Deluc. He was one of my best warriors in the Mackaeo. I was told that he died some years ago by the hand of a rogue Tsielen.”

  “No, Your Highness. He was given an ultimatum to either be killed or join Connor’s group. He chose to run. I met him ten years after that. I owe my life to him but I came here because I love him.”

  “That’s a telling story, young man, but I still have no proof of your accusations.”

  Jules stepped forward and placed a staying hand on Bastian’s arm when the larger man tried to stop him. In a quiet voice that carried through the still air, he said, “Connor is bald and stands a foot taller than me. He has a scar that runs from the left side of his ribs to his navel. He can increase the density of an object to make it unbreakable but only if the object is inanimate. There’s a tattoo on his back between his shoulder blades that looks like that.” He pointed to an insignia on the arch of the throne just above the Queen’s head.

  “His second and third in command have the same tattoo in the same spot. The one that can control fire is missing part of his right ear and the other can cast illusions into unsuspecting minds.”

  The Queen leant forwards, her expression somewhere between annoyance and alarm. “How do you know all of this?”

  “Because they did this to me.” Jules took off his shirt and slowly turned in a full circle to display his front and back. The ugly bruises, welts and bite marks covering his skin stood out in stark relief against his pale complexion.

  The Queen descended from her throne to take a closer look. The smaller man lowered his eyes, though whether it was in deference to the Queen or due to shame, Kyle couldn’t tell. Knowing how sacred Jules’ pride was to him and the humiliation he must be suffering in front of a crowd of people in order to substantiate the truth, he would guess it was the latter.

  “Guards, I want a unit to take Connor into custody immediately. I want to question him myself.”

  “Your Majesty,” Bastian interjected, “with all due respect, I would like to ask that you give me permission to apprehend Connor. It’s personal to me. Once I find him, I can teleport him directly here.”

  Narrowing her eyes on Bastian, she nodded her head in assent. “You have twenty-four hours before I send in my guard. Mind, you must bring him in alive. Otherwise I’ll have reason to doubt your honesty and will charge you with his murder. I’ll call for a Mackaeo who has the ability to discern the truth before I interrogate him. These humans will be safe here until your return.”

  Kyle felt the breath rush from his lungs with her last sentence. His body was thrumming with excitement at the possibility of freeing his mate from the rule of a madman. To come so close and be forced to await the outcome was more torture than he could bear. Clenching Bastian’s arm with both hands, he announced in the strongest voice he could muster, “I’m going with you.”

  Bastian pulled his forehead into a frown. “How Deluc ever got you to submit is beyond me. You’re the most demanding little sub I’ve ever met.”

  Kyle flashed him a brilliant smile and held on tighter. Taking the shirt from Jules’ hands, Bastian covered him again and knelt down, putting them nearly at eye level. “I’ll be back for you, I promise. The Queen will make sure you’re safe, okay?”

  Jules studied his face for the longest time then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Looking more than a little satisfied, Bastian stood and cupped Amy’s cheek with a smile. In the next moment, they were gone. When Kyle lifted his lids again, he cast his gaze around what looked to be a small, empty cell with sparse furniture.

  “Damn it, they must have already left.”

  Alarm rose in his chest but he fought it down. “What do you mean they already left?”

  “For the mission he was telling me about,” Bastian replied grimly.

  “We have to find him before he goes through
with it. We’ve got to…” Kyle sputtered to a stop when Bastian’s hand came down gently over his lips.

  “What happened to the faith?” Reaching over to the desk, Bastian opened a file on top and skimmed over the details listed. “I know where this is. Let’s go find your mate.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Connor came in with a scowl as black as a demon on its best day. He motioned for Lucas to precede him down the hall with a perfunctory jerk of his head. Knowing the reason for the expression made it hard to keep the smirk from his face.

  “You look like shit.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No really, I’m impressed. For once your physical appearance matches the man you are inside.”

  Connor slammed him into the wall and brought his face mere inches from Lucas’. “One more word and I’ll take it out of your pretty little thing’s flesh.”

  It was an empty threat, he knew it, but that still didn’t keep his anger from surfacing. Grabbing the front of Connor’s shirt, he spun and smashed the man against the same wall. “Hurt him and I will end your miserable existence.”

  “Commander, we’re ready.”

  Lucas didn’t move an inch until Connor broke eye contact to acknowledge his second in command. This time Connor took the lead and Lucas followed them to the ground floor where they met with the young recruit, Tailor, and two other Mackaeo.

  “There’s been a slight change of plans,” Connor said, pulling a large photograph from a manila envelope one of the men handed to him. “This is the living room I want you to port us to. Once we get there, you’re to stay in this room with Tailor. Miles will bring out the kid and all you have to do is hold him while we take care of his parents. You port us back here and the job is done.”

  A chill raced down his spine at the implication of those words. “You want me to port the kid with us?”

  “Got a problem with that?”

  Lucas kept his face completely impassive as he shook his head. It had never occurred to him that Connor would want to replace the slaves he’d lost at the first opportunity. Stupid. Having Bastian risk his life a second time to port the kid out was too risky. If Connor hadn’t already increased his security, it wouldn’t take him long to figure out what was going on. Mind working furiously, he ported them to the chosen destination then felt Tailor's dampening power take effect.

  The decorations and expanse of the living room cried wealth and prestige. It was small wonder they had waited for his particular power to do this mission. A house with this many riches laid out in such blatant display was sure to have a security system even a professional burglar would need mad skills to crack. While some members of the Mackaeo could do it, one little slip could bring the human authorities down on them in mere minutes. With his ability, they were guaranteed safe passage both in and out of the mansion.

  Connor led three of his men through the foyer and up a wide staircase to the second floor. Steeling his emotions, Lucas told himself he could get through this. He had to. His only other options were few and final. If he rebelled now, he would be going up against five men, each with a power and he currently without his. Even if Tailor did decide to side with him, these men were as skilled in combat as he, making the chances of walking away very slim.

  Success, however, would land him right back where he’d started, only this time Connor’s men wouldn’t be hunting him for his advantageous power. It would be for pride and revenge—two emotions that made for a deadly combination.

  Miles returned to the room with a defiant, frightened teenager fighting and struggling against the massive arms that bound him and clamped his mouth shut every step of the way. The kid appeared to be in his late teens, with black curls flopping everywhere and a thin layer of baby fat over abs that had yet to be toned. Dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, it was plain to see where Miles’ fist had landed on his stomach, probably a few times.

  When the kid kicked his heel down hard on Miles’ shin, the bigger man yanked him by the throat to an arm’s length away and prepared to land an open-handed slap. Lucas put on a burst of speed and caught the man’s wrist before it could come down.

  “I’ll take it from here.”

  Miles sneered at his deadly tone but Lucas could see the glimmer of fear in the other man’s eyes. Twisting his arm free, Miles ground out, “Fine, but keep him quiet. I’m going to make sure the commander is finished.”

  As Miles walked away, Lucas took the kid’s biceps in both hands and brought him close, meaning to calm him the way he had done with Kyle in the past, but the resemblance was too striking. Underneath the sheen of terror in the kid’s eyes lay a quality of virtue he’d always imagined had once lived inside his mate long ago—before Kyle was betrayed and forced through hardships to become a monster’s slave…just as this child would soon become. How many other kids would he have to sacrifice to keep his mate from the same fate?

  None.

  This ended now. Kyle’s enduring strength lay in his ability to love and put others above himself. He had to trust in that, in the hope that Kyle would forgive him his death—for after this, it would be inevitable.

  Looking deep into the kid’s hazel eyes, he whispered, “I’m going to help you but I need you to stay quiet. Tailor here will look after you until I come back, okay?” When the kid didn’t respond, he gave him a little shake. “Answer me, boy.” That earned him a jerky nod. Leading the quaking form over to Tailor, he pushed the kid into the man’s arms. “Remember what we talked about, Tailor? This is your chance. Lift your power from mine and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “You’re going to kill them? I…I don’t…”

  “Tailor, they’re going to make this kid into a slave. You can choose to live with that or redeem yourself. Either way, I’m doing this…with or without your help.”

  Tailor looked at the kid and Lucas could see the same resolution that he’d come to, cross the man’s face. Lucas gave him a tight-lipped smile when he felt his power come back to life. He was glad the man was finally willing to stand behind the morals Lucas had glimpsed in him earlier, but he wouldn’t ask Tailor for more. If he failed to kill the others, he didn’t want Tailor to suffer the consequences should Connor find out the man had conspired with him.

  “Keep him safe. I’ll be right back.” Porting himself to the top of the stairs, he glanced in both directions. One side of the wide corridor was encased in darkness. The other side consisted of about eight yards of balcony then stretched on to give access to a number of rooms on the left and right. Two men stepped out of one of the nearest rooms carrying a box of files and a black duffel bag. Their eyes widened and mouths opened at the sight of him.

  Lucas ported directly behind them and shoved one over the balcony before he could react. The other threw the box in his face and used his power to call down a column of lightning. The heat of it singed his clothes a moment before he teleported a yard in the other direction. Now facing each other, Lucas punched the man in the temple but couldn’t back away in time to avoid the arc of the knife the man pulled from his back and sliced across his chest. The man bounced back from the wall but Lucas gripped the back of his neck in one hand and the knife-wielding wrist in the other.

  With brutal vigour, he smashed the man’s face and wrist into the wall, which crumbled under the force. Pounding footsteps coming from the stairwell alerted him to the return of the first man and he swung the fist of the second out to the side. The blade that was still clenched in the hand of the man he held cut cleanly through the first man’s throat, severing the carotid artery with precision. Lucas took advantage of the second man’s shock at killing his friend and twisted his wrist, bringing the blade home deep in the thoracic cavity beneath his sternum.

  Wrenching the blade free, he wiped the blood from his face in time to see Miles and Connor exiting a room several doors down. Before he could port, Miles pulled a small blow torch from his belt and lit it. Flames shot out at an impossible distance and engulfed Lucas’ shirt
. Searing heat enveloped him and he ported to the foyer, out of Miles’ sight. Ignoring the pain, he ripped the blazing material away and stomped out the fire.

  A loud crash sounded behind him and he flicked the knife blindly in that direction, grinning at the sound of a pained grunt. Another softer thump came from his right and Miles was on top of him. They toppled to the ground in a mass of limbs but the other man braced his head in both hands before Lucas could defend himself. Blinding flashes of light sparked behind his lids as his head was bashed into the floor once, twice.

  Dimly he heard a shout from somewhere in the distance and one hand left his head for a brief second. Lucas brought up his knee and slammed it into Miles’ groin, dazing the man long enough for him to port out from beneath him. Now at the man’s back, Lucas leant down to grip his skull and chin and twisted sharply, letting go at the satisfying snap of Miles’ neck breaking.

  Sudden pain flared in his right breast, bringing him to his knees. A foot hooked underneath his jaw and sent him flying across the floor. Connor pounced on him before he came to a stop, driving the blade deeper into his chest The weight of the knife increased until it felt as though he’d been skewered by a three inch steel pipe.

  “I should have screwed your mate while I had the chance. Guess now I’ll never know how sweet it would have been.”

  A storm of rage surged through Lucas, igniting his blood and renewing his strength. With a guttural cry, he wrenched the knife from his chest and propelled himself forwards, twisting their bodies so that he straddled Connor’s waist from above.

  “Deluc, no!”

  In one swift move, he flipped the blade in his hand and slammed it tip first into Connor’s windpipe. “You will never have my mate,” he seethed, watching with maddening rapture as the light faded from the commander’s eyes.

  “Master?”

  Lucas jumped up and whirled around, ready to do battle with anyone else who dared get in his way. But there was no threat. Recognition was sluggish in coming, and when it did, his fury fled with the breath in his lungs. A sweep of the foyer showed him the destruction caused by his hands. Blood was everywhere, staining the floor and coating him in an obscene layer of gore.