46. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Isaiah
Thirty-Three Hours Later
Isaiah’s eyes opened.
Bright white met his gaze. Everything felt real around him, and the sea of ivory only compounded his confusion. This was the opposite of what he had expected. He was certain he would be dead.
Blinking to clear his vision, Isaiah slowly realized that he was lying down. He turned his head to get a bearing on where he was.
His muscles, stiff from lack of movement, screamed in protest. His body didn’t quite feel like his own. Sluggish and slow, his body’s weakness was far more worrying than his disorientation. As he shifted his scope of vision, he soon found his prize.
Isaiah was at home. Rukia’s abstract sailboat paintings hung on one wall of their bedroom, the only color in the entire room. She’d demanded they be hung there, arguing that his original black and white color scheme was exceptionally mundane.
He took the moment to examine the psychic network. Instead of sinking immediately into the mental framework, a slight pressure built in his mind—like he was slowly riding down an elevator rather than teleporting there.
Gradually, it began to clarify. He had expected to find Derikles holding the sovereignty of the Sylth clan like planned—the way Isaiah had left it. The moment he was fully immersed in the psychic space, however, he realized that it was once again him who held the reins. Isaiah must have done something wrong.
Even more astounding was that Derikles had mated.
How long had he been asleep?
Every clan bond pulsed with life in his mind. Gently thrumming a weak psychic finger over all the delicate strands of their mental links, Isaiah assured himself that his clan was safe and healthy. Whole .
Rukia and Isaak were his first stop along the mental landscape. Though Rukia’s psychic signature had slightly altered, undoubtedly due to the trials he’d put her through, there was hope beneath the blanket of despair. His mate stubbornness was like an ocean of power that could bend the world to her will. And he loved her for it.
His son’s mind flowed toward his next, and Isaiah’s pride threatened to overwhelm him. The boy was becoming keener by the day.
Assured the clan was well-taken care of, he returned to the situation at hand. Frowning, Isaiah inhaled and flexed his fingers beneath the soft cover. The movements were jerky and surreal. He doubted if he could hold a pencil properly.
All the strength he’d known throughout his life had vanished, sapped away by what he’d been forced to do to ensure their future.
Slowly, he lifted a hand in front of his face and was startled to see his palm was colored in a sooty black. He quickly checked that both hands bore the stain, tendrils of the inky curling around his thumbs and weaving through the spaces between his fingers. It flooded the lines and painted the creases, rippling as he flexed his hand.
The answer came to him almost immediately: he’d held and wielded the raw power inside him through his hands. No wonder it was the same color as the clan mark inked across his chest.
Letting his hand drop, he felt the outline of his ribs through the blanket and beneath his light shirt. At this point, he didn’t know how long he’d been under, nor how long they’d had to keep him alive.
Suddenly, the need to see and apologize to his mate was all consuming.
It was only then that he realized she was asleep on the chair in the corner of the bedroom. Though his voice was rusty, and his throat was dry, he called out to her.
“Rukia?”
Wild eyed, his mate jerked awake. She scrambled upright in a flurry of movement, freezing as she caught his eyes. “Isaiah?”
“ Rukia .”
And then she was sobbing, throwing herself next to him on the bed. As the weight of her devastation bore down on him, he simply held her, keeping her afloat as she had him.
“I’m here, babe. I’m okay.”
The heat of her presence seeped into his skin, and he soaked it up as though he’d been a wrung-out sponge.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, repeating it over and over.
Isaiah didn’t rush her; it was the least he could do after having kept such a devastating secret from her. And when Rukia’s fear and tears morphed to fury, he’d bear the brunt of it without defending himself or condemning her anger. Returning to her was a gift he’d never expected to be given, and every second was a miracle.
“Is Isaak okay?”
“He’s fine—he’s perfect,” she whispered. “Better now that his daddy’s awake.”
Relief flooded him. He repeated his apologies and declarations of love over and over, letting Rukia cling to him with the ferocity of a mate having lost her light. And when she startled, he opened the circle of his arms to allow her to retreat slightly on the bed.
“Jaeda! Jaeda !”
Isaiah’s lips curled slightly at Rukia’s sudden fearfulness. The healer appeared in the doorway only moments later, and he saw the depth of emotion tied to his prolonged absence.
Crossing the room to stand beside him, the visible tremble in her hands accompanied the fearful look in Jaeda’s eyes. With each blink, she seemed to stand up taller, accepting the fact that he was truly awake.
Jaeda checked his vitals without delay, her hands brushing up against him. Her familiarity with the processes gave him reason to believe he’d been comatose for weeks, or potentially much longer.
But the question that came out of his mouth wasn’t for his own sake.
“Did we win?”
Both Rukia and Jaeda softened, but it was his mate who answered him. “We did. We won.” She gently grasped his chin to align their gazes. “Because of you. Because of Nina and Key. We won because the three of you gave everything.”
Then, gingerly, Rukia dropped her lips to his, and he savored the sweetness of her kiss. It was gentle, almost tender, and Isaiah knew then that she’d done it often—and repeatedly—while he’d been away.
“How long?”
Jaeda stiffened, but said, “It’s been more than a month since you went down, Isaiah.”
He should’ve been shocked, but all he could do was nod. Given the fact that he’d expected to be dead—not comatose—waking up hadn’t ever factored into his decisions.
“Where is Isaak?”
“Napping, and boy, does that kid sleep.” Rukia chuckled, then sobered almost immediately. “Like his father, I guess.”
He’d been giving his son every scrap of attention he’d missed while he was down for the count.
“Has either Key or Nina woken up? Are they alive?”
“They are, and they’ve both seen some improvement over the last month, but they remain asleep,” Jaeda offered. “When you all first went under, your minds were blank and filled with static. Gradually, you returned to us, but it wasn’t without a few bumps in the road.”
Nodding, he took stock of his surroundings and already hated them.
“I’d like to get out of this bed, Jaeda.”
He made a move to follow through. Both women jumped to attention and scrambled to assist. Frowning at their antics, he fisted a hand against the bed and brought himself upright. A wave of dizziness dotted his vision, and their hands caught him as his eyes briefly closed to combat the nausea.
As the vertigo and queasiness subsided, his eyes opened to find both Jaeda and Rukia watching him. Clearly, neither had expected him to move a muscle until he’d fully recovered.
Hard pass.
Jaeda’s hands were on him after a few seconds, funneling energy into him at a phenomenal rate. Through his clan’s links, he could feel the swell of energy from Derikles and the host of his lieutenants. They were ever his support.
For a moment, he let his body adjust to being upright. It was an odd sensation after being horizontal for such a long time—and it made him feel like he’d topple over at any moment. While he’d love to give himself more time to adjust, he already hated this room—and this bed—and he needed to be downstairs where his people were.
Pushing against the bed, Isaiah swung his legs over the edge. Fortunately, he was clad in loose sweatpants and a black t-shirt, something acceptable for seeing the lieutenants that were currently awaiting his appearance.
Their clan links pulsed at him, and even tired, his psychic senses registered their presence. Though he detested the state of his body, the need to see them outweighed any pride that might’ve impeded him.
Both women reached for him as he attempted to stand, supporting him as he tested out whether his legs would hold his weight. For a moment, it seemed as though he’d tumble right down to the ground.
Stars temporarily flitted across his vision and the urge to vomit bubbled. Beside him, Jaeda’s healing energy poured into him with such potency that he audibly gasped. The healer, apparently in no mood to see him collapse, wasn’t taking any chances. As the heat of the energy transfer seared their bond, the nausea disappeared. A moment more, and his legs stopped shaking.
Standing made him feel better. “Shall we, ladies?”
The stairwell opened to the large living room below. Rukia supported him down the stairs, with Jaeda having taken point in front of them. Progress was slow, and he gradually came into view of the rather large viewing party awaiting his entrance.
He was panting by the bottom stair. Before he asked, however, Rukia subtly shifted her weight to better support him, camouflaging the weakness from the lieutenants that looked positively hungry to see him.
His first words were for Derikles.
Locking eyes with the man he’d done a great disservice to, he immediately apologized. “Derikles, I’m sorry. I took advantage of your trust in me, and I pushed responsibility on you that you never wanted. It was a horrid thing to do.”
Derikles was already shaking his head, moving across the room to pull Isaiah into a brotherly embrace that left room for no ill feelings. Retreating, his second gripped his shoulders tightly.
“Sovereign, I think I speak for all of us when I say that you have nothing to apologize for. To have you back— and well —is good enough.”
Isaiah didn’t get a chance to respond before Circe was cinching her arms around his waist. Her ferocity, and the slight tremble in her frame, made him frown.
“I’m okay, Circe.”
“But you weren’t,” she snapped as she stepped back, her pain transforming to fury in the blink of an eye. “You put yourself on the line and you didn’t even tell us! You left your mate, Isaiah, and you left us .”
Of all his lieutenants, Isaiah hadn’t anticipated this from Circe. Mirrored on their faces was a common thread, a knowledge that was shared between them.
Guilt .
Before he could tug on the thread, Isaiah begrudgingly acknowledged the pit in his gut. His hunger had been building since the moment he’d awakened, and he could no longer put it off, not even for the discussion they needed to have.
“Circe, we will have this conversation, but first—” Isaiah jerked his chin toward the kitchen, “—I need to eat something. And Rukia, my love, no offense, but I don’t want you to cook it.”
All of his lieutenants rushed toward his kitchen like a great herd of buffalo. He and Rukia followed, and his mate immediately pushed him toward a stool.
“We’re going to spoil you.” One of her eyebrows rose in challenge. “Sit.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Unable to deny his mate, Isaiah sighed in relief as he took a seat. No one noticed, far too focused on preparing whatever food was already in the kitchen.
Each of them threw grins his way, their elation at his return bubbling over. But this—this domesticity, the camaraderie they shared, the joy he sensed in their clan bonds with him … Isaiah couldn’t help but let it flood him.
He had known his death was inevitable, months before he ever stepped onto that field. He’d prepared for and accepted it. He’d said goodbye to the life he’d lived and the mate he loved. He’d steeled himself against his son having a future he wouldn’t be a part of.
Getting it all back was nearly more than he could bear.
His vision blurred as he watched the people he loved most bustle around preparing food. Rukia noticed the tears that slowly tracked down his cheeks.
“Fates, Isaiah, what’s wrong?”
Rukia came close, her hands gently cupping his cheeks and searching his eyes. Immediately, his mate covered him protectively, blocking out the room around him.
Through their mating bond, he felt her uncertainty and shock. In fact, all movement had stopped in the kitchen, his people hesitating at Isaiah’s turmoil.
“Baby?”
Isaiah pulled himself together through sheer will alone, and when he finally looked at Rukia once more, he was softly smiling. He didn’t bother to hide the tears pooled beneath his chin, nor the happiness that paired with it.
“I never expected to wake up, Rukia. This is a gift.”
But his mate didn’t let him go, her features twisting as she fought back tears of her own. “Don’t go sentimental on me now, Sparky.”
Isaiah laughed through his tears. The breath that his lieutenants had been holding was let out, and the tension that simmered in their bonds slowly ebbed. Assured that he was alright, the sounds of chatter and cooking once more filled the air.
In no time at all, a considerable feast was spread out before him. When every single member of his entourage looked at him expectantly, he merely raised an eyebrow.
“If you think I’m eating alone, you’re very much mistaken. Eat with me.”
By the time he’d had his fill, the lethargic weight of his limbs had lessened, and the hollow well in his gut seemed to fill. While his physical state had improved, Isaiah knew there was a long road back to health. From the research he’d done, no one had returned from the level of psychic trauma he’d experienced.
He’d never been keener to start a journey.
The sound of Isaak’s voice from upstairs made Isaiah perk. Gripping Rukia’s hand, he hesitated, unsure that he’d be able to teleport them into his son’s bedroom. Fortunately—he didn’t have to. Derikles’ psychic energy wrapped around both him and Rukia, the other man aiding him like the loyal brother he was.
As soon as Isaak saw his father, his eyes widened, and he squealed.
“Daddy!”
Isaiah leapt forward and knelt beside the small bed, swaddled his son in his arms and held the wiggling nearly two-year-old close. Little hands wrapped around his neck while the sounds of Isaak’s giggle made him grin like a lunatic. Emotion thickened his throat, making it impossible for him to speak, and Rukia draped her arms around them both.
Overcome, he breathed in the familiar scent of home and family, cherishing every second of their reunion and locking it away in his memory. From the soothing scent of his mate to the boisterous energy of his toddler, he was happiness personified.
Sooner than Isaiah was ready to loosen his grip, the toddler was squirming to get out of his arms. “Daddy, down!”
Only the thought of their shared future made Isaiah capable of ceding to his son’s demand. And even then, once Isaak’s was released from his embrace, it took all of his willpower to resist snuggling him close once more. Rukia, sensing his turmoil, gently squeezed his hand.
“We’re not leaving, Isaiah,” she promised. “We’re here, babe, and nothing is going to change that.”
Tugging her close, Isaiah sighed. “I owe you an explanation.”
“Yes,” came Rukia’s dreamy response, then a more resolute, “Yes, you do. Isaak can play in the living room while we speak with the others, and you can explain what happened.”
Isaak scrambled down the stairs to the main floor, his parents slowly trailing. Once more, his knees threatened to give out on him, the joints loose and foreign with each step down. Though his legs quivered by the time he stepped onto the main floor, he pushed past the weakness.
As his son set up with the boxed Legos in the corner, Isaiah and Rukia took a seat on the sofa where his lieutenants had gathered. None of them were going to push—that much Isaiah knew.
The first question was one of the most important. “Derikles, did the sovereignty transfer to you?”
“Yes,” Derikles’ focus sharpened, “but a day and a half ago, you took it back.”
“How?”
A nod. “I was feeding you psychic energy, and through the connection, the neural network transferred back to you.”
Isaiah cursed. “Forgive me. I wasn’t aware that’d happen.”
“But it told us you were close to surfacing.” Jaeda crossed her legs on the large armchair beside them. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have taken back what was originally yours.”
“That’s why you were all waiting?”
“Yes,” Rukia bumped his shoulder, “and you certainly took your time.”
“A lot has changed since you went under, sovereign,” Sia mused.
“So it seems.” Pointedly looking at his second, Isaiah grinned. “Are you blushing, Derikles? Care to fill me in on who, exactly, my most loyal lieutenant has mated?”
Jaeda snapped, “I take offense to that. I am your most loyal lieutenant.”
“Lies.” Xedrix’s nose scrunched up. “I am.”
A bickering war raised the stakes in the room, but Isaiah’s attention stayed on Derikles. “A conversation for another time, perhaps? Do I know her?”
“You know of her,” was Derikles’ mysterious comment.
“Count me intrigued.”
Derikles sighed reservedly but offered him a bone. “I’m mated to Celeste, one of Nina’s lieutenants. One of her best friends.”
Isaiah reclined on the couch with a benevolent grin. “I’m happy for you, Derikles. But I have to say, I never thought I’d see the day when you wore Nina’s clan mark.”
“That makes two of us.”
Isaiah suddenly sobered. “Have you already had the mating ceremony?”
“No, we wanted to wait...” A look of pain shadowed Derikles’ gaze. “Until we knew one way or the other.”
Derikles’ meaning was loaded with far more emotion than could be explained in a handful of words. By the state of his lieutenants and mate, it would be a long road to recovery for both him and his relationships.
“Did you receive the USB from Tyee?” Isaiah asked Derikles.
“I did.”
“And you obviously refrained from following through?”
“Obviously.” Rukia clutched at Isaiah’s hand. “Derikles was going to murder you like the perfect little soldier he is, and I behaved entirely reasonably in defending you.”
“You threatened me with death, dismemberment and kidnapping Isaiah away from the clan,” Derikles shot back, entirely nonplussed. “I was simply trying to follow his instructions.”
“A poor choice, really. Perhaps you should use your brain the next time you try to merjha my mate in the heart.”
“And that’s why Rukia wins for most loyal,” Circe chuckled.
“I am sorry.” Isaiah squeezed his mate’s hand. “To all of you. I wouldn’t have done it, but I had no other choice.”
“You keep saying that. What the hell does that mean, Isaiah?” Rukia shifted in her seat to face him, demanding answers now. “I want to know why you decided to throw yourself down on the grenade.”
Isaiah’s gaze dropped to the floor as visions of a malevolent future barreled into him. Rage tore through him as the concept, of the failure Key had warned of if he hadn’t agreed. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel the despair and fear that’d come with it.
It battled through him, eating away at the contentment that’d begun to build following his waking. It compromised the peace he’d worked so hard to instill.
“Stop! Oh fates, Isaiah, stop!”
Rukia threw her arms around his neck, clutching at him as his emotions passed through the mating bond. “Stop— stop thinking about it. I can’t handle feeling you in so much pain.”
Swallowing, he shook his head and looked around to see the shocked expressions of his lieutenants. “No, Rukia; it needs to be said. It needs to be explained . But it’s a discussion we have to have with the others—the rest of the ones who put their lives on the line. They deserve to know.”
“Don’t explain it twice, sovereign, especially if it causes this much turmoil,” Derikles said. “We can wait until they gather.”
Rukia scoffed. “Maybe you can pass judgement on Rayn while you’re there.”
“Rayn?”
No sooner had the name left his lips than tension between the lieutenants skyrocketed. Uneasy looks were exchanged among them, but Derikles was the one who explained, “Rayn is the one who nearly assassinated you, sovereign. The one Key put a bullet in on the battlefield.”
“I’d forgotten about that.”
“I can assure you that we have not.”
Circe’s voice sounded small, catching his attention as he looked across the room to see her leaning against her mate. That familiar thread of guilt was written across her features, and Lucius’ gentle massage of her neck indicated just how strongly she felt it.
Frowning, Isaiah was about to ask what she meant but Derikles beat him to it. “Sovereign, do you recall when you saved Circe from her abductors?”
“Of course I do.”
Derikles exchanged a troubled glance with Jaeda. “When you took the lives of those people, there was a twelve-year-old child there who manifested the ability to Shield. A child that hid while you claimed justice. A child named Rayn.”
Isaiah’s face registered his shock.
Horror and guilt knifed through him, instantly dropping his heart to his feet. A child witnessing the level of ferocity he’d used to avenge Circe’s mother would have been fundamentally altered by it.
Had Isaiah known there was a child caught in the crosshairs, he would’ve approached the clan far differently. While they still would’ve paid the ultimate price, the child wouldn’t have been forced to witness such a terrible event. He scrubbed his hand down his face.
“ Fates . No wonder he hates me. Where is he now?”
“He’s on Nero’s island with his powers locked away,” Jaeda said idly, strumming a finger along the couch’s arm. “Good riddance.”
Isaiah’s focus sharpened. “Who’s the Lock?”
“Nero.”
“Figures,” he scoffed. Isaiah glanced around the room, gauging each of his lieutenants. “Shall I inform the clan I’ve woken up? What has their reaction been?”
Derikles grinned. “Nothing would give them greater pleasure, sovereign, and I’m certain they’d appreciate hearing your voice.”
“They’ve been on bated breath since you retook the sovereignty. Tell them,” Rukia added, squeezing his hand where their fingers were interlinked.
Inhaling courage into his lungs, he opened a clan-wide telepathic channel, and spoke the words he thought he’d never say.
Sylth clan, I’ve returned.
Instantly, positive emotion flooded the clan bonds. Elation. He’d never experienced such an explosive homecoming. Voices morphed into a symphony of greetings and well wishes, each message as happy as the next.
Taking each with grace, he spoke the final words as the joyful reunion dwindled to a dull roar. I’ll see you all in due time. For now, know that I’m eager to return to strength and be your sovereign once more. Thank you for entrusting me, and know my life is always yours.
Shutting the channel, Isaiah fielded several personal telepathic conversations before returning his focus to the room. Excited chatter had begun around him, but it was Derikles who captured his attention.
The devil was smirking.
“Yes, Derikles?”
“I’m just wondering when I should fulfill my oath.”
“Your oath?”
“Years ago, just before you mated Rukia, you said I should beat you over the head with a baseball bat should you ever desire to seek the light.” Derikles had the audacity to look innocent. “Shall I get the bat now, or would you prefer to wait until you’ve fully recovered?”
He chuckled. “I did say that, didn’t I? Self-fulfilling prophecy, I suppose.”
“Never do it again,” Rukia spat, shoving at him with her shoulder. “Otherwise I’ll kill you.”
A flare of telepathy ghosted through the room, and Derikles’ expression glassed over for a moment before his focus returned to Isaiah.
“My mate has requested permission to enter the territory. She doesn’t know you’re awake yet.”
Isaiah smiled. “And you are asking me as though I’m your warden? Have you not successfully kept the clan and me safe for the past month? You have no need to ask me if your mate can come see you. I know well the impact of a mating bond and the way your mate senses your elation. By all means.”
When the pink-haired woman teleported in, the secret to his awakening was out. Celeste’s wide violet eyes blinked owlishly.
“You—you’re—ah.” Stammering, she pressed into her mates’ open arms while Derikles grinned mischievously.
“Surprise! Isaiah is awake.”
While Isaiah had never officially met the Raeth that was Derikles’ mate, he’d known of her in the centuries they’d both been alive. He’d heard of her only as Nina’s lieutenant, and caught sight of her bubble gum pink hair once or twice in the last hundred years.
“Pleasure to meet you, Celeste.”
Isaiah couldn’t get up, and it became apparent that wouldn’t do for the latest addition to his clan. Celeste’s arms eagerly wrapped around him and squeezed, the fierceness of her embrace taking him by surprise.
“I’m so glad you’re awake, Isaiah. Well, sovereign now, I guess.” Releasing him, her cheeks were the same color as her hair. “Oh—I’ve gotta tell Zeke!”
And then she was gone.
“Secret’s out, I guess,” came Rukia’s droll comment. “Let’s batten down the hatches.”