8. Simon
I get my first proper look at Luc and Nick, and cringe internally knowing I watched two of Aodhán”s best friends be tortured all in the name of “science.”
Luc is the shifter who was in my direct line of sight while O”Hare rummaged around with his insides. He’s a little above average height and stocky, with pale skin covered in freckles, gunmetal blue eyes, and his auburn hair is long on the top but shorter on the sides, tumbling over his forehead and around his ears in loose waves. His voice contains more than a touch of the laid-back drawl that Australians are famous for, and I’m stunned that he’s here. Just how far a reach does Vieux Sang have?
Luc smells of eucalyptus, coastal scrub, and salt, with just a hint of fur and blood. I’m not sure if that’s because he’s still healing, or if his animal is a carnivore, but neither Tál nor I feel threatened by him.
Nick, on the other hand, is Luc’s opposite. Short and slender, his features are fine-boned and delicate. His black hair sits in tight curls around his face, with gray, almond-shaped eyes set under thin brows. His skin is an unhealthy tawny color with almost a jaundiced undertone, probably from lack of natural sunlight. He smells of feathers, open ocean air, and sea spray, which only cements in my mind that he’s an Aves shifter of some kind.
Strangely enough, neither of them appears as malnourished as Quin, although neither are they as muscular as me.
“You’ve seen Aodhán?” Nick shyly asks, his voice soft and high. He looks and sounds so innocent and fragile that it rouses Tál’s protective instincts, and I suppress a shudder at the horrors he must have experienced here.
“Yeah, I was with him just before I got captured. He’s doing really well and has even found his mates.”
“Mates?” Luc asks, his eyebrows lowering in confusion. “We don’t get mates. We’re Altered.”
I don’t even bother holding back my snarl of disgust.
“That’s fucking bullshit. EVERY shifter can find their own mates, it just depends on the type of bonds you form. Just because Aodhán is Altered, it doesn’t mean he can’t form other bonds. I mean, fuck, he’s my blood brother, and I dare anyone to tell Sarai or Cyril that he’s not theirs, and vice versa.”
“Wait, Aodhán has a female and a male as mates? But… but same-sex matings are abominations, like we are. We’re perverted because we can’t produce viable offspring naturally. Are his mates wolves, too, at least?” The tremulous quality of Nick’s voice ratchets my ire at the fuckers running this place up to a whole new level.
“Cyril is a Mundane lion. Sarai is an Altered shifter, a Mythic. She’s a unicorn, and woe betide the moron who tries to tell Séax that she’s an abomination for mating outside her species. I don’t know if she’d stab them or trample them, but there wouldn’t be much left for Garmr to dispose of afterward.”
“You know about Garmr?”Quin hisses, his eyes darting around the room to check for anyone trying to listen in.
“Of course, I know about him, I’ve even heard him speak. What part of blood brother did you miss?” I snap, and instantly regret my tone as Quin flinches away from me, eyes downcast. Nick and Luc also shy away from me, and I could kick myself for triggering their flight response so carelessly.
“Fuck, Quin, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You didn’t say or do anything wrong. I didn’t know anyone else outside of my inner circle knew about Aodhán”s bestial counterparts, so it’s stupid of me to expect you not to assume the same thing in return.” I soften my tone as best I can.
Truth and sincerity ring through my voice, and all three relax with my apology.
“It’s something we all had to hide from the guards and scientists. What they did to Aodhán and Fenrir was bad enough, but if they’d known about Garmr, I don’t think Aodhán would’ve survived his time here. O’Hare is bad enough, but he’s not the worst this place has to offer…” Quin’s words taper off bitterly as he visibly withdraws, his shoulders hunching and his gaze dropping to the table. The acrid sting of shame burns my nostrils, and I look to Luc and Nick for an explanation. It’s Luc who provides it.
“Quin told you his name, yes?” Luc murmurs, and I nod.
“Basset wasn’t the name he was born with. He was born Quintas Bassatne, as in the only son of Caleb and Lori Bassatne, the co-founders of Vieux Sang. They had him relatively late in life,and when he failed to meet their expectations, they had him admitted to this facility. They initially told him that he was ‘helping’ their patients because shifters don’t do well in isolation, and I honestly don’t know how long it took him to realize that he was being lied to.” Luc shakes his head at my incredulity, because how the fuck could Quin be so blind as to what was going on in here?
“Don’t blame him,” Nick quietly interjects, his hand reaching for Quin’s, patting it in reassurance. “They hid us from each other when they were performing the worst of the experiments, and I know that we—being me, Aodhán, and Nick—were given strict instructions not to speak to him about our ‘sessions’, under pain of punishment for the others. They used us against each other, and when Quin discovered the truth… shit. It almost destroyed him. He disappeared for so long, we thought he was dead.”
Quin’s shoulders begin to shake, but instead of the expected tears, derisive chuckles emerge from him. His scent stings my nose, sour with self-loathing and recrimination. Both are two emotions I’m well-acquainted with.
“No, I didn’t die. I ran. I used to be allowed access to the outside, but not anymore. Not after they caught up with me.”
Quin lifts his head, and I have the sudden urge to hug him, so I do. His appearance compared to that of Nick and Luc makes a hell of a lot more sense now, knowing that he’s still being punished for running.
“I was free up until about six or so months ago. I’d managed to evade everyone for almost a year, but I was stupid, and they found me. I’d spent most of my time either hiding or trying to find a way to contact the authorities and report this place, but I didn’t know who I could trust. I finally found someone who claimed to be connected with the Shifter Council and told them what was going on. Except I’m such a dumb fuck that I didn’t change my name enough. It might’ve made easier for me to remember, but it also made me easier to find.”
He shoves his hands through his hair, tugging viciously at the messy mop in self-punishment. “They had me meet up with them to supposedly make a formal statement. I put my faith in them, and instead they turned me over to my parents. If I ever get out of here, one of the first things I’m going to do is track down that traitorous fucker and gut him like a fish.”
Quin pushes back from the table, his anger hot and bitter on my tongue.
“But that’s unlikely to ever happen, isn’t it? My parents made sure of that when I was dragged back here. No longer would I be protected by their name. No, I was on my own, and so I took comfort in my assumed name. My father is an only child, and the last in his line. At least I can take some satisfaction knowing that all his filthy hopes and dreams for his name and bloodline will die with me.”
There’s absolutely nothing any of us can say that could ease Quin’s pain, so we sit in silence and let tempers and emotions settle back into a state of disassociation.
It’s strange, really. Although I haven’t been here for long, nor had to deal with the same traumas that Nick, Luc, and Quin share, none of us are really whole or undamaged. We all bear wounds on our souls that will never truly heal, and those wounds that have scarred over only highlight the struggles we’ve survived.
I might not have much of a future left in front of me, especially if O’Hare and the Bassatnes have anything to do with it, but I’ll be fucked if I don’t take at least some of them down with me.
***
“Will you tell us how you came to be here, Simon?” Nick’s soft voice breaks the silence, and I chuff out a sound of self-derision.
“Oh, I’m here because I caught Quin’s parents’ interest.”
We’re all lying on thin foam mats in what can only be described as an abandoned gymnasium. Not long after Quin shared his story, new guards arrived to escort us out of the dining hall, and we were led to a cavernous room with scuffed wooden floors, cinder block walls, and industrial lights strung high up above us on steel beams.
The others jerk sharply and look at me, and I prepare myself for their inevitable rejection once they know my story.
“You see, once upon a time I was a spoiled, narcissistic, self-absorbed fuckhead who didn’t know how good he had it. My dad is Leo of our Pride, and I was the heir apparent. I shat sunshine and farted rainbows, and my future was golden. I was set to mate the only daughter of another Pride’s Mane, or second-in-command, and together we would bind the two and one day lead the world’s largest Pride. Then I found my fated mate, and became the architect of my own downfall.”
I glance at the trio who are glued to my every word and swallow the bitter pill of truth lodged in my throat. I look away from them, turning my gaze blindly up to ceiling, and recite my history in a dull monotone. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get it all out without breaking down and agitating Tál even further.
“I rejected her. I rejected her in public, humiliating her and almost broke her in the process. The toxic icing on the shit-tastic cake was the lioness I was betrothed to then issued an unsanctioned dominance challenge on my ex-mate, and I stood back and did nothing while she systematically destroyed the snow leopard’s sanity, control, and entire life. I was stupid, ignorant, and arrogant, and my failings almost killed her.” My mouth is dry, and I have to push myself to continue.
“Almost two years later my sins truly came home to roost. I’d been punished by the Shifter Council, my title and position stripped from me, my betrothal dissolved. I thought it was all over. But I ended up at the same college as both my ex-betrothed and my ex-mate. Sila, the snow leopard, behaved beyond reproach. She left me alone, and when I finally gathered the balls to apologize to her for my shitty, shitty actions, she forgave me. She’d managed to find herself a trio of mates, and they all adore her, as she deserves. It took them a while to forgive me as well, but eventually they did, and now they are some of my closest friends. I still don’t really believe I deserve them, not after what I did, but they saw something in me that they thought worthy, and they won’t let me wallow in self-pity and shame anymore.”
I clench my fists as I brace myself for the worst of my story.
“Catherine, on the other hand, used every opportunity to interfere with Sila’s life. She set Sila up time and time again, ambushing her and trying to lure her mates away from her. She did so with her father’s and Leo’s blessing, and again, I failed to step in and stop her. So, when it became apparent that I’d formed a toxic, one-sided mate bond with Catherine when I’d rejected Sila...well, I guess it was karma at work. Every guy she slept with affected me, poisoning me and my lion. Her continuous hatred leached through the bond, making me sick. When I was finally smacked with the truth, I then had to endure having my bonds stripped, all so I could sever that connection with Catherine. You’d think that would’ve been the end of it.”
I finally look over to Quin, Nick, and Luc. Luc is so pale that his freckles stand out starkly against his skin, Nick is quietly sobbing, and Quin’s jaw is clenched so hard I can hear his teeth grinding.
“What happened next?” Luc murmurs, and I close my eyes, holding back the burning tears welling behind my eyelids.
“Not only did Sila and her mates forgive me, so did two of her friends who were also lions. One of them was Cyril, Aodhán’s mate. They came along to support me as my bond was severed, but they also ended up forming a blood bond to help me through the procedure. The swan who was responsible for removing my bond with Catherine took offense when she learned I’d rejected Sila and decided to destroy all my bonds as punishment.”
“Wait, hang on, did you say all your bonds? But you only needed that one removed, right?” Nick sniffles, and my answering chuckle is dry and scornful.
“As it was explained to me, I needed all of my fraternal bonds—as in the ones tethering me to my Pride—dismantled and would only have my familial bonds left. I was recommended to form blood bonds to help offset this, and I’d been warned that while it would be painful, the utmost care would be taken to prevent unnecessary trauma. It would be a lengthy and exhausting procedure, but in the end, I’d be free of the toxic bond, and would be more or less the same as when I’d walked in. What happened instead was that the swan shifter simultaneously attacked every. Single. Bond. She obliterated my fraternal bonds with a sledgehammer, severely damaged my familial bonds to the extent that they still haven’t recovered over four years later, and she even tried to destroy the blood bonds I’d only just formed. No care was taken, no patient and delicate teasing like I’d been promise… only pain. Oceans and oceans of unstoppable pain. All at once, and all within the span of less than half an hour.”
My mouth is so dry that my throat convulses, desperate to stimulate my saliva, and I can’t bring myself to choke out the rest, about Tálstrom’s emergence, about my years-long struggles with guilt and acceptance, about the contempt of others over my past.
I just… can’t.