Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ophelia
My spine stiffened as that husky, strained voice reached my ears.
The ghost of a voice that had haunted my waking and sleeping hours, pulsed with every step I’d taken, and echoed every beat of my heart for over two years.
I hurried down the passageway, no longer taking care to stick to the shadows. All that mattered was finding the source of that voice. It couldn’t be—it made no sense. Still, I ran.
My feet stumbled over one another in their haste, limbs shaking with every ragged breath.
Ahead, I could make out the outline of a cave, no door or gate of any kind blocking it.
That was where the whisper had drifted from, but my mind refused to believe what my ears heard.
It was afraid to believe what my heart wanted. Afraid to let it break again.
Tension bracketed my muscles as I inched closer to that cave mouth, drawn to it. To whatever—whoever—lay beyond. What if this was a trap? A test of the Spirits. A trial to find out what I was willing to lose.
But did it really matter? Whether it was a facade or the real thing, I could not ignore it.
So, I stepped forward, and when I crossed into the dim cave, my soul lit up in flames, its missing piece in sight.
My jaw wobbled, eyes stinging. I was suspended in disbelief, body numb. My breathing quickened through the sobs working their way up my throat.
He hung—hung—from the ceiling, chains on his wrists pulled so tightly that his feet barely reached the ground, a matching set tethered to his ankles.
The scent of blood mixed with sweat hit me, but his chest rose and fell slightly.
Breathing. Alive, the thread of his soul tied to mine seemed to say as it tugged on the Bind.
“Malakai.” My voice was a crackle of doubt against the warm air.
Those hooded forest-green eyes hadn’t left my face.
“So formal.” His lips parted into a whisper of a smile, and even through the dirt and blood, that gleam that met his eye was my undoing.
Something within my chest unlocked, tears spilling down my cheeks. I catapulted to him, colliding like two stars shooting through the sky. He groaned, but leaned into me, and I clung onto him. Thank the Spirits. He was here. Alive. Whole—but not undamaged.
Worn leather and honeysuckle was so much stronger than it had been in my memory, overpowering the blood and rust. Even here, despite his state, he still smelled like mine.
My hands locked behind his head, and I didn’t miss the fact that I was half supporting his neck, but our lips crushed together before I could ask.
I sighed into him; he tasted like home. My body lit up, heat coiling within me.
The darkness I’d muddled through for years receded with every stroke of his tongue against mine.
Pressed together in a darkened cave, two years of longing unfolded into that moment, and I could have stayed like that forever. But the coppery tang accenting his cracked lips reminded me where we were.
I broke the kiss reluctantly, rested my forehead against his, stared into those heavy-lidded eyes that held a piece of my soul, and wept.
Even through blurry tears and chains, he was the most beautiful sight, this moment sewing up pieces of my heart.
Despite my vow, I truly thought I might not live to see him again, and that truth I’d avoided facing quaked through my body.
If I had my way, I would never look away from Malakai again.
“How—” I couldn’t finish the question, but how and who and why…I would get all the answers, and then I would slice the throat of every person who had a hand in him being here.
My fingers continued to support his head, his hair so much longer than I remembered.
Like it hadn’t been cut in years. It was thick and lush beneath my hands, but among that tangled mess lay a labyrinth of fresh scars and matted blood.
A fresh one shone along his jaw. Each brush of my fingers over a raised bit of flesh sent a tangle of hatred through my body.
Who did this to him? Angels, I’d grind their bones to dust.
Malakai…my North Star…come back to me. How often had I repeated those words when this was what was being done to him? My pulse pounded—both my heartbeat and the one awakened by the spear.
It was that steady adrenaline that held my shocked frame upright as I pulled the dagger from my thigh and poked the tip into the first lock at his wrist. Barely knowing what I was doing, barely able to reach—dammit, did he have to be so tall?
—I maneuvered the blade. Please, please work, I begged any Angel or Spirit that may be watching, but kept my expression neutral, sensing Malakai’s half-closed eyes watching me for any hint of trouble.
The only sound in the cavern was the gentle tinkering of the blade within the lock, the distant roar of the volcano, and Malakai’s labored breathing. The rasp in his throat had me rotating the knife faster, forcing my hands to remain steady.
Malakai dropped his head to my shoulder and inhaled. “Why are you here?” he choked out, voice only a whisper against my skin, but I thought he sounded angry.
So many questions from us both, but I couldn’t waste time with answers.
Not when whoever locked him here could return any minute.
Not when that light in his eyes was growing more distant by the second and his head felt heavy against me.
I flicked my gaze down his body and realized how slack it was.
He’d lost some of his muscle, likely not having been allowed to work out, but the mountains kept him relatively strong.
It was the drooping stature of his frame that concerned me more.
Something beyond the chains kept him sedated.
“Listen, Malakai,” I whispered hurriedly, lowering one hand to lift his face and turn it toward me. He leaned into my touch with a sigh. “I need to get you out of here. I need to get these chains off.”
My free hand fluttered over his body, taking stock.
So many scars. There were so many scars on his skin.
His back, arms, and chest were all littered with them.
My stomach turned over at the fresh-looking one on his right pectoral—directly opposite the Bind.
Four points in a vertical line and two more to the right, forming a square with the top half of the line.
The Engrossian constellation—the Ax. Someone had carved that forsaken symbol into his flesh. I saw red when I looked at it.
My fingers slid through a sticky trail of fresh blood on his ribs. A puckered pink wound appeared to have reopened, exposing a deep slice into the muscle. “Fucking Angels,” I cursed.
Malakai released a breath of a laugh at my curse. “Spirits, I’ve missed you, Ophelia.”
The words tore at my heart, and I wanted nothing more than to hold him. Hold this broken man before me and never let go as I never should have let him go on his eighteenth birthday. But I needed to get us out of here first.
And murder whoever had dared to touch him. Looking to the Ax, I knew who my enemies were. Though that didn’t explain why he was here of all places.
I turned his face to me, gently brushing his cheekbone with my thumb and pressing one quick kiss to his lips. A reminder that I really was here. “Just give me one second. I’m getting you out of here.” The promise in my eyes was urgent even as his lids drooped.
“The drugs—they’ll move out of my system soon.” He sounded as though he was trying to reassure me.
Later. I forced myself to take a steadying breath at the mention of drugs. I will get revenge later. I placed my hand beside the Bind and kissed the tattoo, reminding him of what truly mattered; then, I returned my focus to the lock.
After what felt like an eternity, there was a click, and the first cuff opened. Malakai’s arm fell to my shoulder. I freed his other wrist and gently lowered him to the ground.
“Just one more minute, Malakai,” I encouraged us both, desperation and determination tangling in my voice.
He watched me work on the shackles around his ankles, only breaking the silence to whisper, “My spear?”
The weapon flared hot against my back, energy spreading through my spine. “I’ve been keeping her warm for you.” I looked up to him as the first ankle cuff sprang free.
His eyes softened, but something troubled lingered in them. “You hate spears.”
“I like this one.” I blushed at the memory of how right it felt to hold this spear, heat creeping through my body, but that agitation didn’t leave his eyes.
The second ankle shackle opened, falling to the floor with a clatter. I sighed in glorious relief and shot to my feet. “Do you know how to get out of here?”
Malakai shook his head, long black bangs falling into his face. “They’ve always kept me blindfolded or drugged when they moved me.”
Drugged. The word echoed through my mind, solidifying the vengeance in my gut into a burning hot need for revenge.
In the time it took me to free him, Malakai had regained a bit of his strength and color, and he leaned against the wall as he struggled to push himself to his feet. I slid my arms around his torso to help him up, but he tensed beneath me.
“What is it?” I asked.
A voice behind me drawled, “Leaving so soon?”
My head whirled, hands still supporting Malakai, and the figure in the gray cloak nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Lucidius?”