Chapter 4 Navuh
NAVUH
Consciousness returned in fragments, like shards of a broken screen slowly piecing themselves back together.
First came the awareness of pain, Navuh's skull throbbing with a deep, relentless ache, his neck burning as if someone had pressed a hot iron to his spine. Occasionally, electric jolts shot down pathways that ended in nothing, his damaged nerves firing signals into a void.
His body below the chest felt distant, disconnected, as if it belonged to someone else.
Then the scent registered—familiar, comforting. Areana.
Navuh tried to open his eyes, but even that simple action required tremendous effort. His eyelids felt weighted, resistant, and when he finally managed to crack them open, the dim light of the room sent splinters of pain through his skull.
He couldn't move his head. He couldn't move anything.
He remembered now that he was so completely paralyzed that he couldn't move even his head. The clan's doctor had promised that it was temporary and that he was expected to make a full recovery, but it would take months.
And then what?
Execution?
Stasis?
A lifetime of captivity?
Or none of the above if he played his cards right.
That thought was not enough to quell the spike of fury that cut through the fog of sedation and whatever else the clan's physician was pumping into his veins. Perhaps he wasn't as injured as she claimed, and she was drugging him to feel as if he was?
His fury flared to a new height.
The leader of the Brotherhood, ruler of an empire that spanned the globe and commanded an army of immortal warriors, who had toppled governments and shaped the course of human civilization for five millennia, was at the mercy of a small red-haired female, and he couldn't even turn his head to see his mate.
"Areana." His voice came out as a rasp, barely recognizable as his own.
"I'm here." Her familiar, soft voice was thick with emotion, and its effect on the fury was immediate. It dimmed, simmering below the surface but no longer hot enough to consume all rational thought.
"I'm right here, my love," she repeated.
"I can't move my head to see you." The words scraped against his dry throat. "Can you stand up?"
There was movement, the whisper of fabric, and then she appeared in his field of vision. His heart contracted at the sight of her.
She was alive, whole, and uninjured.
Her golden hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her pale eyes glistened with unshed tears. She wore a simple blue-green-colored gown and, as always, her ethereal beauty took his breath away.
"Thank the merciful Fates you are unharmed," he rasped.
Areana's composure cracked, and as tears started spilling down her cheeks, she pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle a sob.
He wanted to lift his hands and wipe those tears away, wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her against his chest until she stopped heaving. He wanted to stroke her hair and cup her face, but he couldn't even move his hand.
His body refused to obey even the simplest commands. His arms lay useless at his sides, his legs were numb weights beneath the thin blanket, and his neck might as well have been forged from iron for all the flexibility it offered.
Fury flared anew, a rage impotent with no outlet. He was helpless.
The most powerful immortal on the planet had been reduced to this.
At least he could still speak, which was a mercy. His mouth could still move and produce words, his mind was mostly intact, and his thoughts were clear despite the lingering fog of whatever drugs they'd been pumping into him.
It could have been so much worse. If the fall had damaged his brain, if he'd been left unable to think or speak or reason, it would have been a fate worse than death. In fact, he would have preferred death to that.
"Don't cry." His voice came out harsher than he intended, more command than comfort. He tried again, softening his tone as much as he could. "Please, my love. Don't cry. You're alive. We are both alive. That's all that matters."
Areana bent down and pressed her lips to his forehead, a feather-light touch that sent warmth spreading through his broken body. Then she kissed his lips, gentle and careful, as if she was afraid he might shatter beneath her.
The contact flooded him with relief. She was here. She was real. She was kissing him. She still loved him even though they had both been captured by the enemy.
Whatever had happened and whatever awaited them, she was still his. His mate. His partner. His anchor and his one weakness.
"I was so scared," she whispered. "When you jumped, I saw you hit the rocks—" Her voice fractured. "I thought—"
"Shh." He wished desperately that he could reach for her. "I'm here. I'm alive."
"Yes, you are." She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. "The doctor said it was a miracle. Multiple fractures, internal bleeding, spinal damage—" She choked on the words. "Anyone else would have died. Even immortals."
"I'm not anyone else."
A watery laugh escaped her. "No. You're not and knowing that was what kept me hopeful. But the damage is extensive, my love. It will take a long time to heal."
Navuh tried to assess his body, to catalog the damage. He could feel pain, a general, pervasive ache that seemed to have no specific source, but he couldn't feel his legs or arms, and his neck was immobilized.
"How bad is it?" he asked. "The truth."
Areana hesitated, and he saw the conflict in her eyes—the desire to protect him warring with the knowledge that he would accept nothing less than complete honesty.
"Your spine was damaged," she said finally. "The nerves are healing, but it's slow. The doctor says you'll eventually regain full mobility, but it will take a long time. We need to be patient."
He wasn't a patient male, and as the rage surged again, he clamped down on it ruthlessly. Rage would serve no purpose here. He needed information, needed to understand his situation before he could begin to formulate a plan.
"Where are we?"
Areana's gaze flickered away, just for a moment. "Somewhere safe."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the answer I can give you right now." She walked away, disappearing from his field of vision, and then he heard her open a door. She returned a moment later, filling his view with her beauty. "I have crushed ice for you. The doctor said I can give it to you to make you more comfortable."
She brought a spoon to his lips, and he accepted the ice chips grudgingly. They melted on his tongue, cool and soothing against his parched throat. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until the moisture hit his mouth.
As she fed him more ice, he studied her face. The dark circles under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and she seemed thinner than usual. Weren't they feeding her properly?
She was also hiding something, probably in a misguided effort to protect him.
"I need to know what happened," he said when she set the cup aside. "I remember the cliff. I remember you going over the edge. But everything after that is—" He struggled to find the right word. "Fractured. Like looking at a shattered reflection."
Areana's hands stilled on the blanket she'd been smoothing over his body. "What do you remember?"
"Terror." The word came out raw, stripped of pretense. "I saw you fall, and all thought abandoned me. I couldn't lose you because if you died, I would die with you. There was no point in continuing without you."
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. "Navuh—"
"So, I jumped." The memory was clearer now, crystallizing as he spoke.
"I jumped after you, and I remember falling, and then—" He frowned.
"I don't remember the impact. My brain must have blocked it.
Then I woke up here, and you were not by my side, only the doctor with the red hair.
She told me you were unharmed, but I didn't believe her. I had to see you with my own eyes."
"You hit the rocks." She shuddered. "The sound alone—"
"But you didn't." He watched her face carefully. "You went over the same cliff, and yet you're standing here without a scratch. How?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she busied herself with the ice cup again, bringing another spoonful to his lips even though he hadn't asked for it.
Areana was stalling.
Navuh accepted the ice, let it melt on his tongue, and waited. Sometimes, silence was the best way to get people to talk.
But the silence stretched, and Areana made no move to fill it. She fussed with his blankets, his pillows, and still didn't speak.
"Areana."
"You should rest." She feathered her fingers over his cheek, and he could actually feel her touch, which was incredible, but he knew she was evading answering him. "The doctor said you need to conserve your energy for healing."
He would need to pry it out of her, one piece of information at a time.
"How long was I unconscious?"
"Three days."
It had seemed like much longer, and he had to admit that the progress his body was making in healing itself was impressive considering the short time it had to do so. The realization cooled the simmering rage a fraction.
"I'm well rested." He tried to move something again, his fingers, but his body remained stubbornly unresponsive. The frustration was maddening. "I need to know what happened. How could you have survived that fall? Was there some dark magic involved, and what I saw wasn't what really happened?"
He'd said it as a tease to get her talking, but the look that passed across her eyes made him think that his shot in the dark had actually hit something.
"It's complicated," she murmured.
"Then explain it to me one thing at a time."
She looked away, and he saw her throat work as she swallowed. "I don't know where to start."
"Start at the beginning. I remember that you went out to comfort Tula, and you were taking so long that I was starting to worry. Did Tula try to kill herself, and you tried to save her?"
"Please." Her voice cracked. "Can we talk about this when you are a little stronger? You've only just woken up. You're still healing. The doctor said—"
"I don't care what the doctor said. I need information."
The flash of temper felt good, a reminder that he was still himself beneath the wreckage of his body. He was still Navuh. He was still in command, even if the only thing he could currently command was this conversation.
"You said somewhere safe. Safe for whom? Clearly not for me, if they're all wearing compulsion filters." His mind was racing now, putting pieces together despite the throbbing in his skull. "I know that we are in the hands of Annani's clan. But where are they keeping us?"
"I'll explain." She swallowed. "I'll tell you everything, but you need to promise me that you'll listen to the whole story before you react."
"I cannot exactly storm off in a rage, can I?" The bitter humor was all he had left. "You have a captive audience, my love."
She didn't smile at the joke. If anything, she looked more distressed.
"I never meant for any of this to happen," she said. "You have to believe that. I never wanted you to get hurt. I never imagined—"
She stopped, pressing her free hand to her mouth.
Navuh watched her struggle with what she was trying to say, and something cold settled in his chest.
Areana was afraid of him.
In five thousand years, he had never given her reason to fear him.
He had destroyed cities, toppled empires, ordered the deaths of countless people, but he had never done anything to make her afraid of him.
He'd never even raised his voice to her in anger or thrown things against the walls, the way he did when not in her presence.
He had done everything in his power to make her feel safe with him.
What could possibly have happened to put that look of dread in her eyes?
"I cannot take your hand," he said quietly, abandoning the demanding tone.
"I cannot hold you, cannot comfort you, cannot do any of the things I wish I could do to reassure you.
All I have is my voice and my word. So, I give you my word.
Whatever you tell me, whatever happened, I will listen, try to understand, and not allow anger between us.
Whatever it is that frightens you, we can work it out. "
Her eyes searched his face. "You might hate me after."
The words hit him hard. "You know that I could never hate you. I love you, Areana. Haven't I proven it to you countless times in countless ways?"
"You have." New tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. "But you don't know what I've done, and you might feel differently after I tell you."
"I jumped off a cliff for you, Areana, and I would do it again without hesitation. Whatever you've done, you are still my truelove mate. The only person in this world who matters to me." He held her gaze, willing her to believe him. "Nothing you could tell me would change that."
Silent tears were sliding down her cheeks, and he ached to wipe them away.
"Tell me," he said. "Please. The not-knowing is worse than anything you could possibly say."
Areana took a shaky breath.
"I need to get you more ice first," she said. "Your lips are cracking."
"My lips are fine."
"They're not. Just let me—"
She walked away before he could protest, and he heard her fill the cup with fresh ice chips from a container.
Areana needed time to gather her thoughts, or perhaps to summon courage, or maybe she was just delaying the inevitable for a few more seconds.
When she returned, she sat on the edge of his bed, the position allowing him to see her face.
She fed him ice, small spoonfuls that he accepted more for her benefit than his own. It was something she could do for him, some small way to care for him when she couldn't fix the larger damage, and he understood the need.
When the cup was empty, she set it aside.
"Areana." He let all the love he had for her pour into her name. "My love, my one and only. Nothing you say or do can ever break our bond or my love for you. Don't be afraid."