Chapter Four
Mads
Toast. Applesauce. Orange juice. A slice of reconstituted fake meat bacon.
Oatmeal. Half an orange. Apple juice. A link of shriveled meat byproduct they claimed was sausage.
Mads counted the days by the meals he received, usually.
So, at seven a.m. sharp, when his doors opened, it wasn’t cereal Tuesday. No, half a banana, a carton of milk, a plastic-sealed container of cereal, and a boiled egg awaited him.
Pastries. The heavenly scent of flaky pastries humbled him.
Rich berries. Sugar. Wheat flour. Butter in place of lard.
Heavenly. The Great Depression had limited such fineries when he was a lad, which seemed like only a short time ago.
When Marquis came into view, box in hands, Mads’s heart melted.
“I didn’t think I would see you so soon. ”
“I… The doctors think my presence may help your recuperation.” Marquis cleared his throat.
“If you don’t, the pastries will. What is that smell?” Mads ran up, far more interested in the pastries than his estranged mate.
The day before, Marquis had seemed so close. Months separated them, but that morning, he’d woken with memories filling in more blanks, spanning gaps that made Marquis seem distant. Even his voice didn’t lift his spirits. Though, the medications he was on could be the culprit.
“A little place down the road makes popovers. They’re quite the treat with blackberries this time of year.
” Marquis opened the box and Mads reached in, taking one with a groan of bliss.
Blackberries were his favorite. Abundantly free fruit with a soft skin and sugary tang.
Mads recalled the food from his youth, nights when he went to sleep full as could be.
And when he was pregnant? He craved the fruit so badly that he’d gone through jars of the preserves, wishing for the season to arrive.
Mads sank his teeth into the sugary crust, relishing the flakes and crunch of the granules. And the fruit, sweetened a little but still blackberries. That he recalled vividly. He moaned with utter delight, taking one bite after another. “Oh goddesses. This is good. Mff.”
Marquis smiled at him.
“Fruit cake. Dutchess potatoes… And some roast chicken.” Mads blinked up at Marquis and spoke through a mouth of food before swallowing.
He frowned in confusion for a moment before dawning realization lit his gaze. “The night you snuck into my room looking for—someone else.”
Mads’s heart seized when he anticipated the name but relaxed, warming so delightfully as Marquis avoided saying it.
“I’d not eaten in two days. I was starving. It was the best thing I’d ever eaten.” Mads laughed.
Marquis’s eyes widened for a moment as if he realized something. “You never told me that…”
“I told you I was poor.” Mads went for another pastry. “S’why I was so skinny. Not anymore.”
Mads was a far sight from being fat, but he’d been nearly skin and bones back then.
“I was so afraid when your heat hit that getting pregnant would sap your body. I fawned over you so much.” Marquis sighed, eyes glittering as Mads tore into it. The alpha always got sappy when he ate.
“Speaking of heats. When did they figure out suppressants? I’ve not had one since I’ve been here.
I panicked a bit because I usually have one at least every other month.
” Mads wandered off to sit in his armchair.
Another one had been brought in that morning while he slept, apparently, and Marquis sat next to him, face a mask, hiding his real feelings beneath it. Mads always could tell when he worried.
“I’m not sure. I’ve not been with an omega since…” Marquis cleared his throat. “Well… You.”
Mads had been with alphas, since. Been through heats with alphas, mainly Baron, sometimes one of his buddies as a bonus. Being attuned to one’s mate had its bonuses, though. No surprise babies. No pregnancy scares. But also, no relief. No knot or cock slid into him could quench the fire.
Not that any of them cared. And Mads went along with it, did as he was told… Though, the gods only knew why.
“I don’t want to hide things from you, Marquis.” Mads pulled the pastry from his mouth and took a deep breath. “You said you’ve not been with any omegas.”
“I was with Doris. Nobody else. She was there, and part of me really wants to say that she had some spell or hold on me, but I’ll never know for certain.
I know she was keeping you addled, and that was enough for me to never trust her again.
Never love her.” Marquis swallowed hard. “And I won’t ask—”
“Ask. You deserve to know. Numbers? I can’t give you one. Baron and Damien used me as they pleased. So did anyone else that Baron offered me to. Some willingly, some unwillingly.” Mads didn’t look at him for fear of seeing disgust.
“I cannot imagine you being willing.” Marquis kept his voice steady.
“I was.” Mads hugged himself. “I craved touch and attention and love constantly. Just because I can’t remember everything doesn’t mean I don’t understand. Didn’t understand.”
“I see.” Marquis set the box down on a coffee table and turned more toward Mads to stare him down. Mads avoided his gaze, kept staring at the floor with his arms wrapped tight.
“So, yeah. I wasn’t an angel.” Mads huffed and his eyes stung with tears.
“Any clue what my brother used to keep you subdued? It wasn’t wish. You didn’t show the signs.” Marquis’s voice came out soft and small.
“I don’t know. I think it was befuddlement at first, some spell or another. Then it was drugs. Real stuff. Hawthorne cap mushroom extract. I took whatever they gave me.” Mads cleared his throat.
“I cannot say it doesn’t hurt to hear that.
But I hurt for you. I’m not angry.” Marquis’s voice sounded as stuffy and light as ever and Mads glanced up, watching the pity in his face turn to something else.
Not lust, maybe familiarity, but it softened as if he weren’t used or broken.
Like he’d met him for the first time all over again.
“It would be easier if you were angry. That way we could shout at one another. I could throw a pastry. We could both cry.” Mads flopped his head back and closed his eyes.
A rustle of paperboard preceded a flicking noise as part of a pastry hit his face.
Mads jumped and stared at the piece of bread in his lap then glanced at Marquis. He stared at the mage, who stared back at him almost curiously. “I have thrown food.”
“You bastard!” Mads popped it into his mouth.
“No, my parents were married. You, technically, are a bastard.” Marquis snorted.
“Shouldn’t you be like, ‘You whore!’ or something?” Mads stared Marquis down.
Marquis frowned and shook his head. “Nope. I will blatantly not go that route.”
“Two paths diverged…” Mads laughed. “I suppose I’m the path well-traveled.”
“You weren’t the path less traveled before we mated. I never cared.” Marquis huffed. “What happened is trauma under the bridge.”
“I think it’s supposed to be water.” Mads stared at his lap.
“After everything that just happened, I’m beginning to think that the water is mostly feces, so sewage under the bridge. Let’s not cross it again.” Marquis slouched. The position seemed foreign to him, like the edge of his stiff nature hadn’t passed.
“Yeah. So. Eighty years. You and Doris have any kids?” Mads twisted his lips and tried to fight the budding tears off.
“No. Doris couldn’t have children.” Marquis fidgeted with his hands as he said it. “Something that happened when she was young…”
Mads was nosy by nature. “Spill.”
“She, um… It’s not my place to tell. But, she is passed. She made some poor decisions as a young woman and had an abortion. The process didn’t go as planned, as can happen with our kind and internal injuries…that sort of thing.”
Mads nodded sagely. Omegas knew when they were fertile. Females didn’t.
“So, I heard Damien had another after Justin only recently… Baron boasted about it, but we never found a birth record.” Marquis glanced at Mads, but he wasn’t ready for that question.
Mads tried to think. “Damien died. He couldn’t hold a child and act as a conduit for Baron. He brought home a child at some point, and I cared for him until Baron said he wasn’t a familiar.”
Every time Mads tried to think about the child, his brain drew a blank.
It was as if he remembered a child being there then it wasn’t.
Baron had taken him out one day and come home alone and…
“I think Baron must have sold the child. He went on one of his excursions with the other omegas he carted around—though they all ended up raptured over time. Astarte Coven.”
Marquis sat up straight, eyes wide. “Do you recall what the child looked like? His name?”
“Little blond. Big, pretty blue eyes.” Mads frowned and closed his eyes. “I cannot for the life of me remember what Baron called him. They called him omega a lot… I wasn’t exactly fully with it. I remember being very happy there was a baby and was lonely after… Damien.”
“We found his grave and wand, you know. Where Justin lived.” Marquis kept silent, waiting for Mads to speak.
“The grave is empty, much like so many others. It wasn’t like a rapture.
It… It was like his body tore itself apart.
I couldn’t get clean.” Mads shuddered as he remembered.
Baron had those experimental spells, trying to perfect manufactured familiars.
Damien screamed and writhed, and one moment, he was whole—the next, everything was red.
So red. Smelled so bad. Mads had screamed, too.
He didn’t snap out of it until Baron shoved him in a cold shower, washing it all off of him. “He burned the building down after.”
“You don’t have to speak more of it if you don’t wish,” Marquis said, his voice a soft whisper.
“Talking helps. I think. So! What was Doris’s cooking like?” Mads cleared his throat.
“She burned everything she touched. We had a cafeteria at Penumbra. We simply ate there when I didn’t cook.” Marquis grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“I can cook, now. That much I remember.” Mads offered a chuckle.
“I missed your cooking… Strangely enough.” Marquis cleared his throat.
“Even the tuna mold? Gelatinized food is out of style, yes?” Mads raised a brow.
“Honestly, I’d eat a thousand of those gods forsaken tuna molds if it could wind back time and undo this all.” Marquis laid his head back, reached about for a pastry, and shoved one in his mouth with a mmf.
“You must really have missed me, then.” Mads chuckled.
“More than you’ll ever know.” He spoke through a mouthful of food, so unlike his stuffy nature and endless propriety.
“Think we’ll be okay, eventually?” Mads leaned back, spread his legs, and stuck his feet out. He’d lost his appetite, but being next to Marquis was enough.
“I don’t know. I came here yesterday thinking it would be closure. I’d hear why you left me. Perhaps I wasn’t as attentive to the baby, or you grew tired of my snoring—”
Mads sighed heavily, interrupting him. “I miss your snoring. I know I complained, but you were a dream compared to sleeping in the same room as those two.”
Marquis quieted. Mads wasn’t sure if it was right to bring up his sleeping arrangement or he wanted to know more.
So, he kept talking. “Damien swore in Welsh in his sleep. Often. I assume it was swearing, at any rate. Everything in Welsh sounds like a swear word. We tried sharing a bed once or twice, but I always ended up on the floor. It’s so good to have a bed again. ”
“I’d never make you sleep on the floor.” Marquis’s voice cracked.
“No, because to you, I’m an actual person. Not something he could take away from you. Not a tool or an experiment or something to entertain Damien.” Mads let the tears flow. “Every lucid moment I got, I begged for you.”
Marquis pulled a pocket square from his jacket and dabbed at his eyes before clearing his throat. “Thank you. I know it’s not what you wish to hear, but I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t come for you.”
“You were so used to Baron taking everything you held dear and never fighting for it. Do you fight now?” Mads leaned on the chair arm and snagged the last pastry.
“To the death.” Marquis turned his head as a knock shook the door to the suite.
Dr. Vans popped in with a wave. “Visiting hour is over.”
“Same time tomorrow?” Mads asked.
“Yes. I think so.” And Marquis was always punctual.