A Lost Light (The Bestiary #4)

31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Hasumi

T he room swirled with so many rich, varied emotions. Every one of my beloved family had mixed feelings about the fight we had just participated in. I tapped into my magic and sent soothing, calming, safety... But I didn’t push too hard. I knew it was also important to let them feel whatever they were feeling, so they could process it and let it go.

I kept most of my attention on Aahil during the fight, afraid that the enslaved jinn's situation might be too similar to his prior experience, that it might trigger his old fears and trauma. But, while it did affect him, he handled it far better than I anticipated. Apparently, I had been attending to the wrong person.

Dyre's anguish and fury had been nearly overwhelming.

Now, as we stood in the center of the great entryway of the Lovell mansion, regrouping, centering, I expanded my awareness outward, making sure I hadn't missed anything else in the chaos. Ambrose met my eyes and gave me a nod and a soft, wry smile. While I sent out softer emotions, he unobtrusively fed off the less pleasant ones, drawing in the fear and anger, as we worked together to restore balance.

Andy said she needed some time alone, and a quick check along our bond told me that she wasn't overly distraught, she just wanted space to clear her mind and rest as she sorted out just what she did feel. Which I could have told her was primarily fear and obligation. But I left her to her own musings.

Zhong was worried about the rest of us, but was content to soothe those worries by moving off to the kitchen to make food for everyone. Niamh stared everyone down and headed up the stairs behind Andy. The fae was feeling protective. But she was good at silent support. She could be with Andy while giving her space to decompress.

River shimmered with magic and became person-shaped once more. He was completely naked, and I smiled faintly to myself as everyone in the room tried not to show how interested they were. I let my own eyes slide over the shifter's body, taking in his coppery skin and smooth, lean muscles. He was certainly pretty. He stretched, setting his beautiful cock bobbing, and looked around the circle of people as if being naked among strangers was an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it was, for a shifter.

“I guess I'll go help in the kitchen,” he said with a shrug. His emotions were calm. He was used to stressful situations, and had been working with the rebels long enough to expect some confrontations. I got the sense that fighting to the death wasn't a new experience for him. Which was curious. We really knew so little about this captivating man.

“Do us all a favor and cover up your dick before you handle the food,” Aahil said dryly.

River ran a hand through his shiny black hair, ruffling up the messy shag cut and shrugged. “If I must.” He padded off to go find something to wear.

While Aahil had kept his composure surprisingly well during the confrontation, now that we were home safe I could feel his control unspooling. His snarky commentary was an attempt to hide the fear and other emotions that were creeping in. I was torn. I should help him stabilize. But I knew he would only accept my help in private. And… the emotions I sensed hidden behind Dyre's cool mask were a desperate cry for help to my sensitive aura.

Elijah was feeling overwhelmed and confused… and a bit sad. But he would bide. “Elijah,” I said softly. “Maybe you should go see if Zhong and River need help in the kitchen?”

The angel's expression said he knew what I was doing. But he also exuded a burst of relief and gratefulness. When his glowing blue gaze lingered on Dyre a moment before he headed to the kitchen, I realized that most of his emotional turmoil was centered around the necromancer.

Why did everyone in this house always fight their feelings, deny their wants and needs so fiercely?

Dyre shook his head as if clearing it of his tangled emotions, and started walking toward the back of the house, where the big library was. His outward appearance said he was calm and unaffected. But I knew better. Aahil popped out of existence in a shower of sparks, probably off to hide in his room. I met Ambrose's eyes.

“I'll take the jinn,” he said with a crooked smile that revealed his gray shark teeth. “The stuff he's putting off right now is more my thing.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. We had agreed that Ambrose would help with the darker emotions, while I would handle the others. He was better able to process heavier energies—fed off them, even. Whereas those energies tended to deplete me. And Aahil was currently spiraling toward some very dark feelings.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“Anytime.” Stepping closer, the boogeyman took my hands and tilted his head. “May I?”

At my nod, he bent and pressed his lips to mine in a soft, fleeting kiss. Then he winked and dematerialized, off to assist Aahil.

If Aahil would let him.

I sighed and went to find Dyre.

As predicted, the necromancer was in the back library, slowly pacing the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books and frowning. He paused when I softly knocked on the door frame. “Oh, Hasumi,” he said, as he pulled himself from his rumination. “Did you need something?”

I watched as he sank down on the antique chaise lounge on the far side of the room and started braiding his long, blood red hair. It really was quite beautiful, and the light from the window across the way brought out the gold within the dark, rich red. I shook myself. Now wasn't the time to be distracted by shiny things.

I crossed the room and sat on the end of the chase beside him. “You seem upset,” I said simply.

He snorted. “Caught on to that, did you? Was it your superpowered elemental abilities, or the walking corpses that gave it away?”

I kept my expression placid in the face of his attempt to deflect. “Was it the artifact that upset you so?”

He didn't look at me as he finished his braiding. “Hasumi. You know what happened the last time you tried to go digging around in my head.”

I shrugged. “I was unprepared then. And you were angry with me. I assume we are both intelligent enough to avoid that happening again.” I hadn't enjoyed the experience of complete overload, or the seizure that followed. But it wasn't Dyre who had caused it. It was Sunny. And the wraith really hadn't been trying to hurt me.

“You are very attached to Elijah,” I observed lightly. “You were concerned for his safety.”

He scoffed. “I made him. I was concerned that my spell might get destroyed when he rushed into the line of fire.”

I scooted closer, slowly entering the necromancer's treasured personal space. “I can feel what you feel,” I reminded him. “I try not to, most of the time. But it's very hard to ignore when you are intent on pushing it down and ignoring it. That kind of repression leads to explosions. Loss of control.”

He finally looked at me, his pretty violet eyes pained. “It won't happen again. Sunny was just… hungry.”

I smirked. “You're blaming the wraith?”

He returned my wry grin. “He should be good for something , don't you think?”

“He's being awfully silent now,” I observed.

Dyre sighed and slouched back against the taller swoop of the chaise's backrest. “He's pouting because I wouldn't let him eat people.” Then he huffed a dry laugh. “And he thinks mortal hangups like feelings and morals are dumb.”

I reached out on impulse, without really thinking about it. I hadn't spent much time alone with Dyre. But he was just as compelling as the others. He was simply more guarded. My fingers traced the line of his pale, angular jaw. “It is frightening,” I said softly. “To open yourself to others. To care.”

He watched me with wary violet eyes, but didn't slap my touch away. “You're going to overload yourself and end up hurting,” he warned.

I shook my head. “No. This isn't darkness you're feeling. It's yearning. A different kind of fear—one tinged with the tiniest bit of hope, rather than absolute despair.”

He closed his eyes and turned his head into my touch, surprising me with his surrender. The necromancer always projected such stoic calm. But the energies he couldn't hide from me spoke of woundedness and need. “Can you make it go away, then?” he whispered.

“No,” I said evenly. “That's not how hearts work. And what you feel isn't something to be ashamed of or try to be rid of. Why are you so afraid to love, Dyre?”

His eyes were still closed as he spoke, but he lifted one big hand to cover mine, where it still lay against his jaw. “Because I keep loving people I shouldn't. Wanting things that are inappropriate, wrong. Because I'm pretty sure I'm broken inside and that's the only way I know how to love. All the people who call me an abomination are right. I taint everything I touch.”

I clucked at him impatiently and moved, swinging a leg over his, settling so I straddled his lap, so I could take his face between my hands and make him look at me. Why were they all so stubborn? Why didn't they see that they all needed each other? That we needed each other. That we could be a family. A clan. If only they all stopped being so stubborn. Why didn't Dyre see that he had so much to give, if he'd just get past his self-loathing, past the beliefs his birth family had beaten into him so long ago?

Dyre's eyes flew open in surprise at my closeness, and he froze, staring up at me. “Do I seem tainted to you?” I demanded. “ I'm touching you. I haven't descended into madness or suddenly turned evil.”

He huffed. “Hasumi.”

I felt his surprise and confusion, followed by a wave of lust. But he was so contained. So sure he was a force of evil. A monster. Or… more accurately, that he was unworthy of affection, repellant, unlovable. So, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

The necromancer's dark power surged up slightly, rising to meet me with curiosity before settling back down to a background hum, to a presence that watched but didn't interfere. Sunshine, quietly accepting that there was no danger here, despite Dyre's fear.

“See?” I said when I pulled back. “I seem to be just fine.”

His hands came to rest on my hips, as if he didn't know whether to pull me closer or push me off him. Instead, he just squeezed, his fingertips curling inward, pressing into my skin through my light layers of clothing.

“You don't understand,” he whispered. “Maureen. I destroyed her life, put her in danger, left her alone to raise a witch child. Andy is my progeny. By most standards our relationship is unnatural. Ambrose is only safe because he's made of darkness, like me. And now I feel this pull, this desire to take advantage of Elijah. When he's under my control. When he's dependent on me for life.” He shook his head sadly. “And no matter how much I try to ignore it, the desire only gets worse. Do you know what I thought, back there in that fight? Aside from just being livid with the witch for enslaving people and drawing power from trapped souls… I thought 'he's mine. And no one puts my angel in danger. As if I have some sort of claim on him. On the man I turned into a revenant.'“ He scoffed. “Tell me. Does any of that sound healthy to you? Normal? Sane?”

I shook my head. “Dyre, I'm sorry that life has left you with so many scars. In here.” I placed a hand on his chest, over his heart. “But you are no monster. You're a deeply complex living being just like the rest of us, who is trying his best to figure out how to live his life while navigating some very unfortunate obstacles.”

He rolled his eyes. But I kept going. “The people in this house. Andy. Those of us she rescued from the bestiary. Our new cat friend. Don't you see how we all fit together? For once in your life, you have the chance to be part of something real. Something amazing.” I gave him a meaningful look. “And you are fucking it up.”

His red brows arched in surprise at my direct tone and my language. “I know I'm fucking it up. That's why I'm trying to keep my hands off the damned angel!”

Fed up with his stubbornness, and sure that he wasn't going to understand words alone, I unleashed my magic, pushing emotion into him where I still touched his chest. Yearning to match his own. Fear. Anxious trepidation and the deep need to feel accepted, wanted. The hunger for physical touch after so long feeling nothing. Gratitude for the deep trust that this man represented. For the anchor that I needed him to be in this new, terrifying, glorious life.

I withdrew my power, watching Dyre's face as his wide violet eyes stared into mine. Tears pooled in his eyes, then spilled silently down his cheeks at the force of the feelings I had just pressed into his aura. “Elijah?” he whispered.

I nodded. “Even if your feelings are enhanced by the bond, you mean more to him than you think. You represent so much more. If you weren't interested in him, then fine. It would be your right to say so. But since you clearly want to love and protect him, why deny him these things? Why deny you both the happiness you could provide?”

He searched my face for a moment, his usual calm mask crumbling away to leave a vulnerable, beautiful rawness. “I keep thinking it's all too good to be real,” he whispered, with a little nudge from me to keep him calm. “I keep thinking I'm not good enough to have all these people want to be close to me. I'm too cursed. And ugly. And scarred.”

He really didn't understand. He had no clue about the potential I saw in him—and that I suspected he others could feel, even if they couldn't put the notion into words. This man was meant to be a leader, not to cower in corners afraid of his own beautiful darkness. Maybe one day he would see it. And the family we were building would be better for it.

“You're beautiful,” I said adamantly. “Dyre, they are all drawn to you— we are drawn to you—because you're an amazingly alluring man. Powerful, smart, knowledgeable, handsome, and more sensitive than you want to let on. Darkness can be beautiful. Like night sky full of stars.” I tugged on his braid, making him laugh. “And this hair is quite sexy too, you know.”

He wiped his eyes and shook his head, sitting up straighter, with me still in his lap. “You're the worst,” he grumbled. But there was no true anger in his words. “Getting under people's skin and making them see things. It’s awful.”

I shifted back and stood, giving him some of his personal space back before he could start to feel awkward again. “Give Elijah a chance. You both need it. You can help him find his footing in this new life. Help him feel grounded. He worries about being a monster too, you know.”

“He does?” Dyre said with an adorable frown for such a dark, broody man.

“Of course he does,” I said, heading toward the door. “We all do, sometimes.”

Then I left him to his thoughts.