Chapter 66
THE GREATEST ADMISSION OF GUILT
VALE
When Vale awoke, he roared in fury.
Nothing mattered to him. He saw nothing, felt nothing—only the sheet slipping from his waist, the floor under his feet as he stood, his arms striking out and hitting anything in his path.
Fire scorched his lungs.
Mate, mate, mate, chanted the dragon inside him.
The image that rattled in his head haunted him; it made him and his dragon fucking furious.
Smoke. Rain on his scales. A ship in the distance. A tiny figure amid a mass of angry, large males. An arrow nicking his side, then falling into the water. Ash in the air and the scent of charred flesh. His draconic eyes honed in on the ship—and the female vanishing into shadow.
After that, only rage.
It consumed him, even now.
That female was his. His, his, his.
Mine, mine—
Ours, the dragon roared inside him.
Vale stumbled, falling into a wall and something hard. There was a crash, a rattle, and he fell to the ground, sheets twisted around his legs.
Smoke still choked him. Fury still engulfed him.
When a hand touched his shoulder, he knocked it away and roared, the dragon inside him burning, clawing.
"Vale! Stop—" Hands grabbed him.
Vale lashed out, fists flying.
They wanted to hurt him—hurt his mate. He had to get away, get safe, get to her.
"Bastian, can you—"
"I can try. It may not be as powerful. My magic’s still weak."
A sense of peace replaced the fury. He’d found his way to his feet, but now he could barely stand upright.
"Lead him to the bed. Gentle. Godsdammit, Vale! We’re trying to help you."
Vale raked his nails across flesh. He wanted to maim. To kill.
She needs us. Our mate. Find her.
Vale tried, but between the peace inside him and the strange resistance stilling his blows, he was able to do no more than minor hits and cuts.
He was lying on something soft. The sense of peace thickened.
Until all he could think of was her.
"Mate," Vale mumbled. His voice sounded more dragon than male, laced with a low hiss.
"Yes, I know. She—" A choked sound. "She needs us. We fucking need you. So stop this bullshit and snap out of it."
The words broke through something in Vale.
The memories of her being taken fizzled away, replaced by the stark horror of what had happened.
"No—she’s gone," Vale whispered, eyes closing.
When he opened his eyes once more, it was to find Tharen and Bastian hovering over him. Tharen’s jaw was bruised, and Bastian had deep shadows beneath his eyes.
Bastian sat back slightly, running a paler than normal, shaking hand through his tangled hair.
"She was taken. You were—out of it for a few days. We kept your dragon contained on a smaller island, asleep, until you shifted, and we could bring you back here. You’ve been asleep for a few hours now.
We were waiting for you to awaken so we could talk, but we didn’t… " he trailed off.
"We didn’t fucking expect you to try and kill us." Vitriol dripped from Tharen’s words.
"I need to sit up—I need…" Vale was still out of it. The peace inside him was dazing.
Tharen helped Vale sit up until he rested against the headboard.
The room was wrecked—a shattered mirror, blood dripping from the cracked edges, and the curtains were torn, revealing the calm and sunny scenery of the Isles beyond.
The serenity made Vale break.
"It’s not raining," Vale choked out. He pressed his fist against his mouth. His knuckles were split, rings cutting into the flesh on his hands.
Bastian made a strangled sound. "It stopped yesterday. The sea level rose at the outer Isles. The Fallen have had to vacate and move further in. Queen Samil is hosting trusted Fallen at her castle in the spare rooms. Soro and Sorill have moved into Sora’s home for the time being to free up space.
" Bastian’s shaking hands tangled in the sheets by Vale’s hip, and it was at that moment Vale realized he was nude—he didn’t care.
It didn’t matter. Nothing did. "We’re the only ones here at Graves’s home, still. Just the—it’s the five of us."
"Well, that’s not entirely true. Graves allowed Merath and Emarelia to stay here, but they left yesterday to help clean up some of the islands," Bastian continued.
A soft noise alerted Vale to a presence, as that damned feline hopped up on the edge of the bed. Her golden eyes were wide as she rubbed against Tharen’s side. Bastian moved out of her way. Vale assumed Tharen’s wolves were safe. The Prima would be inconsolable otherwise.
"How bad is it?" Vale asked. He tried to infuse strength into his voice. He was their King. He was needed. He couldn’t succumb to his emotions now; though, the thought was tempting.
Luella needed him.
His dragon prowled inside him, restless. Mate.
"It’s bad," Tharen revealed. "Not as bad as what happened in Serpentis, but between the Umbra"—his tone turned fierce—"and the storms, it will take time for everything to return to the way it was before we arrived."
"It’s not our fault," said Bastian, but his words held no passion. "The fault lies solely with the Tenebrae."
"Not our fucking fault? The Isles have been at peace since the attack that left Graves’s father dead. Then we show up, and this happened," Tharen snarled. "It’s all our fault."
Bastian made to object, but Vale sat up, angry.
Vale grabbed Tharen’s wrist, forcing his ice-like eyes to his. It was an effort to keep his dragon from rising to the surface and burning the mage for speaking ill of their mate, for placing blame on her. He knew his eyes had turned slitted.
"Luella can never hear you say that. Ever," Vale ordered. "You will take that thought to your grave. The blame is the Tenebrae’s, the Umbra’s, even ours—but never hers.
When we took her from her home in Solis, we took on the responsibility of her.
She is our charge, in our care. If you do not agree, if you wish to relinquish your rights and your claim on her, then do so now, but I will never.
" Smoke curled from his nostrils. "I will take the blame for everything she has done and everything she will do.
It is my fault alone. I will bear it all so she does not have to. "
In the wake of his words, the two males grew silent, watching him.
It was the greatest admission of guilt Vale had ever revealed.
He kept everything close to his chest, hidden.
They’d never know the nights he spent lying awake, wondering if perhaps they’d been wrong for what they’d done, for how they’d claimed her.
But the war brewing didn’t allow for what he dreamed about—courting her, stolen kisses in chaperoned gardens, hand feeding her tarts and strawberry pastries on a sunlit balcony…
This was fate. Prophecy had brought them all together.
And their fate was not soft sweetness. It was rage, taking, claiming. Possession and obsession.
No matter how hard he thought and let his mind spin when he was alone, he could never figure out another way they could have had her if not by stealing.
It was the only way.
He hoped—and prayed—in time she would forgive. She’d already forgiven Bastian and Azgorath. And Vale thought, especially recently, with how often she stole away with him, that she’d forgiven Graves, even if she was not aware of it.
All that was left was him and Tharen.
Once the Tenebrae was killed—because there was no other option—he’d have time to prove himself to her. She was so sweet, too forgiving. She’d forgive him… eventually.
But she’d have to be here to forgive.
And she’d need to have pieces of her sweet soul left. She couldn’t be broken. She had to be safe, alive, whole.
"The Tenebrae has her. At this very moment, she is facing unspeakable horrors.
Do you know what is being done to her?" Vale didn’t wait for an answer.
"I do not even want to think of it, but I will—for her.
If she has to endure it, I will force my mind to go there.
I will force myself to think of everything that could be happening to her, the state she will be in when we find her—because make no mistake, we will find her.
It does not matter where she is. She is mine—ours. "
The room filled with the faint scent of smoke.
"We know where she is," Tharen said.
Bastian didn’t look at Vale. The small tattoo on the vampire’s chest—right over his heart—was revealed by his low-cut, open shirt. It was a flower. A rose, done in a mix of red and black ink. Vale knew he’d gotten it for Luella shortly before she’d been taken captive by them.
It must have been because the vampire had gotten closer to her by visiting her dreams those few days before they’d taken Solis.
It had been something Vale had thought hard on. Sending him to her dreams could breed weakness. But weren’t they all weak for her? It didn’t truly matter anymore.
"Where did they take her?"
Tharen swallowed, and the utter defeat that befell his face made Vale still as the Prima said, "She was taken to Luna."