Risk (A Mageri World Novel) (19 page)

“See that root?” Levi pointed out with the flashlight. “Whoever dug this up couldn’t get all the roots from the nearby trees and bushes. Grab on to it. I think I can reach you.”

The root protruded from the muddy wall on his right and was about six inches in diameter. It looked close enough that if he could hold on, Levi might be able to reach his hand.

The problem was getting there. Either Simon was going to make a wrong move and slip into the tangled mess again, or he was going to have to make a flying leap for the branch. He wasn’t exactly in a springing position.

Then a thought occurred to him. Simon took the torn piece of shirt Levi had thrown down and made it into a lasso.

Levi was lying on his stomach above, peering over the edge. “Want me to take off my pants?”

“I’m sure you’d love nothing more.”

“I’m dead serious.”

Simon tightened the knot, the cutters still between his teeth. “Save your pants for later. I might need them if I get swallowed up by the abyss.”

He threw the shirt at the stump four times before it finally caught. Simon wasn’t sure how much this would help, but maybe it would give him some leverage in case he slipped. He drew up the chain that hung from his neck, but it was too heavy to risk flinging up to Levi. Simon didn’t particularly like the idea of asphyxiation, which is one reason he hadn’t looped the chain to the stump.

A few coils moved below, shifting the bed of steel. The stump was alongside him, so he pulled at the shirt to make sure it was hooked tight. He leaned forward as much as possible, his muscles trembling.

With a hard jerk he pulled the shirt and, at the same time, propelled himself forward. It was just enough momentum to send him in the right direction, and he reached up, using every scrap of energy he’d held in reserve to grip that stump. The wires snagged his pants and threatened to pull him back down.

“Grab my hand!” Levi yelled.

Simon hung from the stump, Levi’s hand just above it. That meant he had to let go with one hand, and he only had one shot not to mess this up. Since his right hand was the dominant one, he used that one to grip the stump and reached up with his left.

As soon as Levi clasped his hand, Simon let go of the stump and gripped Levi’s arm. He used his feet to climb the muddy walls, bracing his right knee on the stump as Levi pulled him up.

When Simon neared the edge, Levi suddenly fell back, yanking Simon out of the trench to land smack on top of Levi. The long chain clinked as Simon rolled onto his back, staring up at the moon again, this time as a free man.

“Jesus effing…” Levi sat up and looked Simon over. “You’re going to bleed to death.”

Simon tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. Levi’s fingers pressed against his jugular, searching for a pulse.

“I’m alive, you wanker.” He knocked Levi’s arm away with a weak slap of his hand.

“I’m going to heal up the nasty ones.”

Simon’s eyes rounded. “The hell you are. Keep your tongue away from my body.”

“First time I ever heard that,” he said with a chuckle. Then his expression became grim. “We don’t have time to fight about this. You know I have healing magic in my saliva and I can stop the bleeding until Justus gets here.”

“No.” Simon turned his head away.

“If your energy is weak and you bleed out, you could die.” Levi caged him with his hands on either side. “Why does your scent always change around me? I thought for years that you’d get over it, but don’t think I haven’t picked up on the subtle fragrance of shame. And right now, I scent shame and terror. What the hell did I ever do to you? Are you really going to sit here and bleed to death because you have an issue with me?”

Simon’s heart fluttered as not enough blood filled it, and every cut on his body throbbed.

Levi hovered over him. “I don’t know how a man like you could be afraid of someone like me. I’m gay. That doesn’t mean I’m going to ravage you the first moment we’re alone.”

Simon shut his eyes, flashbacks of Julian returning. When he looked up again, Levi sat back.

“You were raped. That’s it, isn’t it?” Levi muttered, his nose twitching. “
Christ
, I had no idea.”

And there it was. A defining moment in Simon’s life, it clung to him like a rotting stench that would never go away. Even after all these years, he felt the humiliation gathering in him. It was the only wound he’d never been able to heal—not with Mage light, not with revenge, and not even with time. Had it just happened once, maybe. But Simon had endured years of brutality to the point where fighting just made it worse. He’d never forgiven himself for giving up.

Rage culminated within him. “So now you know. Does that make you happy?” he bellowed, clawing at the cuff around his neck.

“Hold still.” Levi rose to his knees and stuffed his meaty hand into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a key and held it up. “I used to work in a jail, remember? I carry all kinds of useful shit on me.”

When the collar clicked and pulled free, Simon wrapped his hands around his neck and turned onto his right side. He had endured all methods of torture and deaths that would kill a mortal, but this scene was triggering three centuries worth of post-traumatic stress.

Levi’s eyes were downcast. “Why didn’t you hire a Vampire or Sensor to take away the memory or emotional pain?”

Simon glared at a cricket in front of him. “I’m a strategist. I trust no one.”

Levi gently placed his warm hand on Simon’s left shoulder, his voice steady and genuine. “I won’t heal you without your consent. If it were just blood loss, I might not jump in, but I can tell they drained your energy. You’re not going to last long enough for Justus to show up. I need you to trust me. Look, we can split hairs over this all day, but I swear to you there’s nothing sexual in this for me. I don’t like sitting here watching my friend bleed to death—not when I can do something about it. Whatever he did to you, that wasn’t me. That’s not who I am, and you know it.”

Logically, Simon knew Levi was right. But tell that to the crazy part of his brain that was going into panic mode.

“Go on then,” Simon said reluctantly.

Levi drew in a deep breath. “Look, I can scent your mistrust, but this isn’t something I’ve been dreaming about. You’ve always been eye candy, but that’s about it. I don’t go for your type,” he said, sounding as if he were trying to make a joke in a situation that was brutally awkward.

Simon cut him a sharp glare but found his reaction to Levi’s words comical. He’d spent years wishing that Levi would take him off his radar, and now—half-naked and lying in an open field—he was mildly offended that he wasn’t his type.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Levi said, a chuckle escaping. “I swear… your scent changes more than your taste in women.”

“Stop trying to make me laugh,” Simon grunted, rolling onto his back. “Hurry up and tongue me.”

Levi rubbed his stubbly jaw. “I know you’re making light of this, but I’m not about to lick your entire body. There isn’t enough saliva on the East Coast to finish that job, but I’ll take care of the gashes on your leg and ankle. I’ll stop if you tell me to, but maybe you need to fight past whatever demons you have and think about saving yourself.”

Levi ripped Simon’s good leathers at the thigh and worked his tongue over the bleeding wound. Breed didn’t carry or catch diseases, but there was still a gross factor to it that made Simon wince. Chitahs acted reverently about the whole affair, as if they were delivering holy spit. Simon did everything he could to ignore Levi’s tongue lapping across his leg in long strokes. Tingling followed as the healing saliva began to work its magic. Simon had witnessed it, read about it, and yet he still marveled that the same mouth that could kill a Mage could also heal one.

Levi spat out a mouthful of blood and then swept his tongue over another bleeding wound. Simon covered his eyes and grimaced as tears sprang forth. A roar collected in his lungs and poured out of his mouth, his hands clenching in fists, his eyes filling with flashing stars.

Levi didn’t have a rough tongue; it was smooth and glided over his wounds like silk. He sealed up a cut by Simon’s ankle and then moved up the length of his body. When Simon looked at him, he was struck with surprise that Levi’s yellow eyes were blazing with anger.

“If you ever want to drop a name,” he said, “I’ll take care of it. No one has to know.”

“It’s already taken care of.”

Levi nodded. “I thought so. You know, shit makes sense now. Did you become a ladies’ man to prove you aren’t gay? Just so you know, you’re not.”

“I think I know that by now,” Simon scoffed.

“Do you? Because when something like that happens, it makes you doubt everything about yourself. I’ve talked with a lot of women about it, even helped a few find justice. Guys… we don’t talk about that kind of shit. But when I used to work in the jail, sometimes the prisoners wanted to talk. They’d open up and tell their dark secrets, and I get why people are steered onto the wrong path in life.”

“You watch too many daytime soaps,” Simon grumbled.

“Yeah, maybe I do.” His gaze traveled to Simon’s neck. “One more spot and that should fix you up until Justus gets here.”

Simon didn’t know how to process feeling so damn vulnerable; he only knew that he wanted to channel it into something vicious and unleash it all over Boris.

Levi wiped his mouth. “Accepting a kind touch from me doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t mean you like it; doesn’t mean you deserved whatever hell someone put you through. Don’t judge one man by another man’s actions. I won’t bring this up around anyone, and if it makes you feel better, I’ll have a Vamp scrub my memory of it. Just know that if you do that, I might start flirting with you again.”

Simon sniffed out a quiet laugh. “Like you won’t anyhow?”

Levi shook his head. “Not if it means putting you through emotional torment. I like to mess around, and flirting’s my thing. I figured if I couldn’t win you over as a friend, I could at least make it fun to avoid me.”

Simon wasn’t sure how he felt about having a Vamp scrub Levi’s memories. He didn’t trust Vampires and therefore couldn’t make such a request.

Bloody hell
, he thought.
Since when did I grow a conscience?

Levi hovered over him, their bare chests touching. He slowly moved his mouth down the right side of Simon’s neck, and Simon turned his head in the opposite direction. With one magnificent stroke, Levi ran his tongue from his shoulder to behind his ear. Simon shivered, fear mingling with relief as the skin numbed and the bleeding ceased.

“I can’t heal that puncture wound in your shoulder,” he whispered against Simon’s neck.

While everything about Levi’s behavior felt sexual, Simon realized what was going on. This wasn’t about sex; it was about trust. Maybe Simon had judged him too harshly.

It still didn’t erase the fact he had a large Chitah—thick with muscle and brawn—lying half-naked on top of him, licking his neck. His canines had descended, and Simon felt a sharp tooth graze his tender flesh. Levi was showing him trust the best way a Chitah knew how, like any predator would.

Levi’s chest thrummed as he began to purr, a sound Simon had never particularly wanted to hear up close. This felt far too intimate, and yet Levi’s energy was vibrant, healing, and unexpectedly peaceful.

A throat cleared from behind. “Am I interrupting something?”

Levi sat back, and instead of smiling like the cat that ate the canary, he held an unreadable expression. “I sealed up the wounds that were bleeding the most. You got here quicker than I thought.”

“I wasn’t far when you called,” Justus said.

Simon wanted to say never mind, but he found his mouth had gone numb along with his limbs. Justus’s energy crackled against him—an inviting source of nourishment he needed but would prefer not to take. A real man didn’t ask for help, and he was certain this was going to be the axe that divided their friendship for good.

Justus knelt beside Simon, flattening his palm against his. “You know, old friend, sometimes you ask me for the wrong favors. Did you think I wouldn’t come if you called me?”

Simon groaned when the healing light poured into him, first through his hands and then spreading throughout his body like a warm rush of life. The flesh where the knife had sliced through mended first, followed by the familiar tingling of wounds sealing up and internal injuries stitching together.

“You hate me borrowing your tools,” Simon began, his voice growing stronger. “How many times have you told me to go fetch my own?”

“A wrench is one thing; your life is another.”

Simon thumped his head against the ground and stared up at the stars. “And now I am in both your debts.”

Justus chuckled. “Perhaps I will only request from you a night of babysitting so I can take my woman on a proper date.”

Simon didn’t know if Justus was kidding or not, but he wasn’t going to argue the offer. That would be the easiest debt ever paid, although there would probably be a catch—like polishing the floors on every level of Justus’s building.

With a newfound energy coursing through him, he shifted his focus to what needed to be done: Simon had a bonding ceremony to stop.

I
t had been
thirty minutes since Hannah and Ella arrived at Boris’s house. The size of his home showed off his wealth, but it wasn’t evident from the hideous décor. He lived in a four-story building nestled in a prestigious part of the city. It was an inspiration for horror movies with its grey exterior and gargoyles perched on the corners of the roof. Boris was a hunter, obvious by the trophy heads displayed on the walls throughout his home. There weren’t as many animals with antlers as there were predators—lions and bears with their jaws open and fangs polished.

Ella’s stomach knotted when James took her bag upstairs, making this less like a visit and more like a permanent situation.

The reality was beginning to sink in. At first Ella had thought she could endure a loveless marriage. People arranged them all the time, and maybe Boris would eventually get sick of her and she’d be able to leave. During the drive over, she’d spent time daydreaming about the different ways to grate on a man’s nerves.

Boris and Hannah were engrossed in a serious conversation, and she couldn’t understand much of it since Hannah was doing most of the talking and kept her back to Ella. They lingered in a dark hallway, the wood floors looking like something you’d see in a hundred-year-old sawmill. She gazed upon the pea-green walls, spooked by the oval mirrors perfectly lined up along one of the walls like a fairy-tale nightmare—one from which she might never awaken. On one end of the hall was an elevator and on the other was a staircase. Rooms branched off from the hall, some with the door open; others had no door.

Ella didn’t like the glint in Boris’s eye each time he gazed upon her while he and Hannah spoke. There was something about his fixed stare that sent chills up her spine—a familiarity that shouldn’t have been there.

Was it too late to run? Her heart sank when she considered what that would lead to. The Mageri would put a bounty on her head and deem her an outlaw—wanted dead or alive.

What have I gotten myself into?
she thought privately. Her Creator had absolute control of her. Some of these immortals frightened her, and their laws were not as compassionate or lenient as in the human world.

Ella drifted to the side of the hall by the mirrors and leaned against the wall, trying to read Boris’s lips.

“You’re being unreasonable,” he said. “But when have you ever—”

Hannah cut him off, but Ella couldn’t see enough of her face to make out what she was saying. What she
could
see was Boris clenching his fist behind his back and mashing the toe of his shoe against the floor as if he were putting out a cigarette. Yet he was doing a marvelous job at pacifying Hannah and not tipping off how upset he really was by keeping his expression pleasant.

“You are a Councilwoman. Can you not officiate?” he asked. “Must there be a second witness? Perhaps an exception can be made in this instance. We can sign papers and give them to the Council if they want something for their records.”

Hannah turned, pinching her chin as she looked at Ella.

“Think about it, Hannah,” he continued, his shoulders more relaxed and his palms up. “I can give her so much more than someone in your position. You’ll no longer need to hide her away or worry what others will think. What a burden it must have been for you. A woman like you doesn’t have the time to devote to such cases. I have several Learners under my roof, and she’ll be in good company. This is an agreement we will mutually benefit from. If you back away from our contract, I promise it will be a decision you’ll regret.”

Ella swallowed hard as Hannah’s gaze shifted to the floor. “You’ll not discard her as you have with your other mates.” She snapped her eyes up at him. “And don’t deny it, because the rumors precede you.”

Boris smiled. “This one is different. She’s younger, and the young ones are so eager to please. She would decorate my arm splendidly at parties, and I have every desire to treat her with the utmost respect. After all, she
is
your progeny, and that makes her resplendent.”

Hannah lifted her chin. “Very well. But I will require that you continue her training so she can learn how to protect herself.”

Boris cocked his head to the side. “Speaking of… What is your relationship with Simon Hunt? Is he someone of value?”

Her chest rocked as if she huffed out a laugh or a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve hired him to oversee her training, but I’m not happy with the danger he’s placed her in for the sake of a lesson.”

His lips eased into a grin. “Mr. Hunt’s services will not be needed once she’s in my care. Put your worries to bed, Hannah. I will give her a life she deserves. Otherwise, she will be your problem for all eternity.”

Hannah smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait,” he said, holding up one finger. “If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to provide her with the appropriate attire.”

Hannah’s wolfish brows touched her hairline. “Oh? And since when does a bonding ceremony involve anything special?”

Boris ran his finger across his skinny little mustache. “Call me an old-fashioned man, but I do enjoy the formalities. This one is fresh from the human world and no doubt has all the fantasies of rose petals and ceremony. Nothing would please me more than to see her wrapped up in a pristine white gown.”

Ella felt nauseous, backing up against the wall and pressing her palms against it.

James reappeared at the end of the hall to her left, lingering at the bottom of the staircase. When Boris looked at him and nodded, James smiled and ascended the stairs slowly, looking over his shoulder and winking at Ella.

Her mind raced.
I can’t do this. Not if I have to live with James
. What if he made advances toward her? What if he used their past to blackmail her? What if she killed him in his sleep and wound up in Breed jail?

Hannah approached Ella and gripped her arms. “This is the best decision I could hope for. You’ll get the attention you need, and I’ll have my life back. I trust Boris, and he’ll keep you safe.”

Ella swung her eyes over to Boris, who smiled surreptitiously and turned his gaze away.

“I can’t keep worrying about you sneaking out or running off, and he has plenty of Learners to keep you in line. Some choices in life aren’t easy, but they’re the ones that will lead you to a better life. I’m certain you understand what I’m saying. I think we’re pretty clear on that, aren’t we?”

Ella nodded.

“Poor thing,” Hannah said. “You’ll always be weak.”

Ella wasn’t sure if Hannah had said that last part aloud or simply mouthed it. It didn’t matter if Boris had heard her. Ella had, and it made her spitting mad. So much so that her energy accidentally flared and made Hannah step back.

“You’ll have a time dealing with her temper,” Hannah said to Boris. “She’s governed by her emotions.”

Boris folded his arms. “How unusual. We all know how you drill every last emotion out of your progeny.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t provoke me, Boris. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.”

He nodded respectfully. “Of that I have no doubt. Let’s not quarrel on this merry occasion.”

When James descended a grand wooden staircase, Ella nearly fainted. Her knees weakened, and she felt Hannah catch her arm.

James approached with a slow stride, a wide grin, and a long wedding gown draped over his right arm.

* * *

S
imon was covered
in blood and filth. Justus wasn’t about to let him dirty up the seats of his Aston Martin, so he made Simon strip out of his shredded, bloody leathers before draping a quilt over the passenger seat. Page’s quilt. One that was soon going to find a home in the nearest garbage can. When Justus reached the first place of business, he pulled over and made Simon get out of the car.

Simon walked into a gas station—naked—to wash himself off in the restroom. After blow-drying his crotch beneath the air blower, he nonchalantly strolled back to Justus’s car, regretting he didn’t have his wallet with him to buy the chocolate cupcakes by the counter. Much to Justus’s dismay, Simon removed the nasty blanket and sat his bare ass on the leather seat.

He was relieved when they reached the Red Door because he had a pair of extra jeans in the backseat of his car. They were raggedy with holes, but he usually kept spare trousers in each car. Justus grumbled a few obscenities before speeding off, probably in search of an expert who could replace the entire passenger seat.

Simon hit the gas, the tires screeching on his black muscle car as he spun onto the street and took off. Someone had to warn Ella before it was too late. Hannah was going to keep her in the dark about her intentions, and Simon was going to give her a piece of his mind. Technically, she wasn’t breaking any laws since Creators had dominion over their progeny, but Simon was baffled by her erratic behavior. Hannah was a black widow, and it was out of character for her to marry off her Learner to a man.

The guards let him in, as expected, and he parked at the front door. One guard practically wrestled him for his keys until Simon told him to sod off. A light breeze chilled his nipples as he approached the front door, and he couldn’t help but notice that Hannah’s car was gone. Instead of knocking, he opened the door and went inside.

Many ancients didn’t lock their doors because they felt their guards were security enough. It made Simon itch due to his own obsession with security, secret passages, and backing up data. Nothing was safe.

A pebble unstuck from the bottom of his foot as he padded through the dim room toward the study on the right. Anyone with a home this big always had one room that was off-limits to staff, where they did most of their business—a room where secrets were kept.

He opened the door, flipped on the light, and strode across the white carpet toward the red velvet chairs straight ahead. After he rounded the desk, he rummaged through her unlocked drawers but found nothing of interest. Appointment books for Mageri business, a contact list, notes written in an old language, and a container filled with hairpins. Simon placed his palms on the flat of her desk and leaned forward, looking about the room.

“What are you hiding?” he said, keeping his voice low. “All women are hiding
something
.”

“Sir, you can’t be in here.” A woman poked her head through the open door.

He stood up straight and circled around the desk. “Where is your mistress?”

She touched her curly hair, her voice quavering. “She’s gone out. You shouldn’t be in here. I could get in trouble.”

“I have permission,” he said with full authority in his voice. “I expected she would be here by now, but you know how Hannah likes to keep a man waiting. You may go. Unless you’d like to stay,” he suggested in a cheeky voice.

When he winked, her cheeks bloomed red and she quickly shut the door. Servants in Hannah’s house were meek things who were afraid to upset the lady of the manor. They didn’t want to get in trouble, so if you threw your weight around and sounded convincing, they usually obeyed. Being a servant himself at one time had taught him all about the mindset.

His eyes centered on the bookshelf to his left. He strolled toward it, familiar titles coming into focus.

“Now why would a woman who can’t speak English have so many books written in that language?”

He ran his finger over the pristine spines until he reached one book that stuck out like a bleeding thumb. It had a weathered spine and looked like something that had been around for centuries.

Simon pulled the heavy book out of its home and strolled back to the desk, setting it down and listening to the leather crack as he opened it up. The first page had a small tree enclosed in a square. The first few pages were names, dates of birth, and dates of death. He skimmed a couple of pages and noticed Hannah’s name written at the top next to someone else—this one having a date of death. The line below branched to two male names with dates of birth and deaths.

Simon cursed under his breath, realizing what he was looking at.

It had always been mandatory to cut ties with their human life, even before the Mageri came into being. And Creators certainly never brought over anyone with a family and children.

One of the boys didn’t have kids below his name, but the other did. Simon turned the page and followed the line through the years. She must have struggled with tracking it since some of the boxes were crunched in to fit on the page. But eventually, the genetic line thinned. As he slipped into the twentieth century, photographs were included. The earlier ones were yellow and faded. Next to them, she had scribbled notes in what looked like a Germanic language he wasn’t familiar with.

In places where a line ended, the dates of death were harshly written in, as if the pen had been pressed angrily to the page in protest.

He turned the pages until he stopped at a familiar girl with ginger hair. On the right page was a young boy who must have been Ella’s brother, thus leaving Ella as the only surviving descendant of Hannah Freund.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, completely gobsmacked. “So
this
is what it’s about. Protecting her DNA.”