Chapter Twenty-Nine
Austin tossed a plush pillow onto the floor in front of the fire and settled onto it, munching on his crackers as he studied the stone.
It gave off a peculiar heat, as if it had been baking in the sun all day.
The etched lines were sharp and ugly, and the longer he stared, the more pressure bloomed in his head.
It was a language, but one his innate understanding failed to translate.
He could hear it whispering, though. Scratching straight at his brain like a headache.
He scanned the room. Something from the ocean… Austin’s gaze settled on the bathtub. He filled a bowl with water and sat down once more. Holding the stone, he focused on the water, focused on his power.
“Spin,” Austin ordered, thinking of Charybdis.
The water formed a spiral, leaking out over the lip of the bowl.
Austin tossed the stone aside and shoved a handful of crackers into his mouth. Of course, he thought. It doesn’t even work.
The water in the bowl eventually settled, and Austin’s gaze returned to the stone. The uncomfortable feeling in his head continued to grow. His power was moving oddly in his body, retreating from his right leg and arm, pushing unevenly into his left side, farther from the stone.
Austin forced himself to pick it up again. “Spin,” he ordered.
The water spun without issue.
The stone grew hotter in his hand, more uncomfortable to look at.
Austin wanted to throw the thing away. Not into the ocean—he didn’t want it anywhere near his nest—but somewhere much further than that.
Instead, he pressed it to his chest, wincing at the prickle of pain as his power shifted suddenly away from his core, racing into his limbs and head.
“Stop,” Austin ordered.
The water stopped spinning, but slowly.
Eyes watering, Austin pressed the stone to his throat. His power shot down, spreading out through his body, nothing left in his head or throat.
“Spin.”
The stone flared hot against his throat. He cried out in surprise and pain. The stone fell to the ground with a thump, loud despite landing on carpet.
The water didn’t spin.
Austin cupped his throat, his eyes burning. He reached for his juice, downing several mouthfuls to soothe what felt like a burn. Once he caught his breath, his limbs heavy, he reached for the stone once more. He pressed it to his throat and stared at the water.
“Spin,” he ordered. Austin winced as the stone flared hot, but he clutched it tighter, weathering the pain.
It was no worse than the first prick of a needle sinking into skin.
Less distressing than watching a drill burr into bone.
“Spin,” he repeated, hoarse. Certainly less enjoyable than Tristan massaging his calves, though!
Austin dropped the stone with a snarl. He coughed down the rest of his juice. Agitated and sore, he went to his dresser and sifted through one of the jewellery boxes. Austin didn’t even realise he’d been actively searching for something until he found it.
Nestled among the gold and silver lay a choker. Thin metal strips had been woven together into an intricate band, cradling a huge, gaudy emerald. Austin might wear green to match Tristan, but he’d never wear something so ugly. The emerald was the size of Austin’s fist. The size of the cursed stone.
Austin returned to his cushion and carefully peeled back the fine filigree metal holding the emerald in place. Perhaps it was fate that the stone slotted perfectly into the emerald’s place. Austin stared at it for a long time. It was horrifically ugly.
But it worked.
Austin ignored the way his mouth trembled as he put the thing on, clasping it at the back of his neck. The metal choker was warm and didn’t feel unpleasant, but the stone was hot beyond comfort. Austin felt like he did when Connor got too far away and his skin began to crawl.
“I can talk normally,” Austin said. “But when I try to use my power, it’s stopped. Spin.” He shut his eyes and groaned, clasping his pillow as the stone flared hot, and the choker heated with it, a band around his neck. It hurt. It hurt! Like needles and drills and pills and poison!
The door opened as Austin reached up to rip it off.
Eli entered the room. “Letter’s sent. Reba took one of your horses. You know they’re the only horses he can ride? All the others get spooked by his wings—”
He stopped as he came around the couch, catching sight of Austin’s choker.
“What’s that?”
Austin managed a croaky “I—”
Eli launched himself at him. Austin was so caught off guard he fell flat onto his back, Eli on top. “You are not wearing that!” He reached for the clasp on the back of the choker.
“Get off me,” Austin snapped, hoarse, surprised.
Textures and sounds and smells overwhelmed him, but Eli leaping at him—Eli’s weight over him—was worse.
“Nobody tells me what to do!” Austin snarled.
He fought Eli’s hands, but he couldn’t get Eli off him, his attendant’s lithe body deceptively strong.
Eli wrestled Austin’s wrists down against his stomach and pinned them beneath his knee.
“You are not wearing this thing.” Eli ripped the clasp open and plucked it neatly from Austin’s throat. He sprang to his feet and was already by the door when Austin scrambled up, body shuddering in relief.
“Give that back,” Austin ordered. His voice cut harshly through the air, but harmlessly around Eli.
Eli stood tense in the doorway, ready to bolt. “You can’t order me while I’m holding this, and I’m not giving it back. You’re hoarse, and you’re bleeding.” Eli cast him a furious look. “You should have known better than to press something designed to harm you right against your throat.”
“It’s a shield.”
“It’s a shackle. Nobody should be able to wrestle you to the ground like I just did. This makes you vulnerable, and that’s exactly the kind of person who gets betrayed!”
Austin wanted to charge Eli. Instead, he clutched the back of the couch, legs shaky. He shied away from even thinking about approaching the cursed stone. “I am not vulnerable.” The briny air trembled with his anger, except for the protective bubble surrounding Eli.
Tristan walked through the open door, hair wet from the ocean. Eli scuttled behind the merman, glaring at Austin from behind Tristan’s back. As if Austin had done him some wrong!
Austin snarled. “Tristan will do what I want, not you,” he croaked.
Tristan’s eyes snapped to Austin’s throat. “What happened?”
Eli brandished the choker. “He was wearing this.”
Tristan spotted the stone in the choker and stiffened.
“I want that back.”
Tristan was slow to look up from the choker, and when he did, there was conflict in his expression. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Austin saw him wavering, caught between giving Austin what he wanted and denying him. Austin tensed, waiting to see which side he would fall on.
Eli narrowed his eyes at Tristan. Took a step back. “I’m not handing it over.” He hightailed it out of there. Tristan could have stopped him. Didn’t.
Austin stared through the empty doorway, feeling only bodily relief now that the stone was gone. He became aware of Tristan’s gaze and turned away from him, slumping onto the couch, kicking at the pillow on the ground. He felt as though he’d just crossed the ocean, his body an exhausted wreck.
Tristan approached and examined his throat. There was a quiet fury in the set of his jaw.
“I was just testing it,” Austin said. “To see if it would work. But it hurts. A lot. It hurts like a bad memory does.”
Tristan fetched a basin of clean water and a cloth, then gingerly cleaned Austin’s neck. The area felt like a giant bruise.
Everything settled. His bones, his head, his blood.
“Why don’t you want to mate with me? Because I’m too unstable?”
“I do want you to be my mate,” Tristan said.
“What can’t you bring yourself to do?” Austin pressed.
Tristan finished his gentle cleaning and sat next to Austin. He tugged at Austin’s waist, and Austin crawled onto his lap, sitting sideways, tucking his face against Tristan’s throat. Tristan stroked the back of Austin’s neck. “Did you notice here on Sam’s neck? The mark?”
“There’s a bite. Adonis has the same thing. Oh. That’s it?”
Tristan rested his chin on Austin’s tucked head. “I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t want to make you bleed. I don’t want to scar your skin. I don’t want you to hurt at all.”
Austin digested that quietly. He rubbed the insides of his elbows, thinking of all the injuries that had vanished like smoke, as if the violence had never happened. “I wouldn’t mind if you marked me,” Austin said. “I think it would be a nice reminder. Good things can happen too.”
An almost pained sound came from deep in Tristan’s throat. He squeezed Austin tight to his chest, cradling away the vulnerability Austin felt. “You make me feel as nobody else ever has,” he murmured into Austin’s hair.
Austin burrowed his face further into Tristan’s neck. “You too,” Austin admitted very, very quietly.
Tristan’s fingertips brushed the edge of Austin’s bruised neck. “Your new gift is an unpleasant one. I don’t want you to wear it.”
“It wasn’t pleasant,” Austin agreed. That was putting it far too mildly. “But I won’t have to worry about control if I have it. There won’t be any more Garys.”
“There was only ever one Gary in the first place. You got through losing a court and a bond that were mentally and physically taxing without that stone, yet you never used your gift like that again,” Tristan said. “You don’t need it.”
“I disagree.”
“What if you are attacked while wearing it?” Tristan challenged.
Austin tensed. “Are you not going to protect me?”
A charged, quiet standoff settled between them. Tristan gathered Austin tighter to his chest. “I will. And I will win against anyone who regards you maliciously. But what of when I am in the north?”
Austin jerked free from Tristan’s grip, pushing back on his shoulders to stare into his face. “You’re going?”