The Seeker Ch. 06

Hi there! I really want to thank everyone who has left me comments and feedback. I have a good idea of where this story is going, but your feedback helps shape the details. The next two chapters are already written, so they'll be coming shortly after this one. Enjoy!

.....

"Syrus!" She cried, rushing into the arms of the tall Elven male grinning wolfishly in the night. His black hair gleamed in the moonlight. He was at least two heads taller than Laiyla and he scooped her up in slim but muscular arms and embraced her in a warm hug. She breathed him in, the sharp smell of pine and flame invading her senses, reminding her of home. She straddled his middle and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her like a child to his hip. She leaned back and memorized his features, his face a study of sharp lines and rough edges. He was beautiful. His eyes gleamed near-white in the dark.

"How are you here, Syrus? What are you doing here?"

He touched the tip of his nose to hers and grinned again. "Looking for my lost little beast, of course. And look – I have found her."

Laiyla beamed. She loved his pet name for her. Little beast. They had found each other while hunting one day. An arrow sat notched on his bow as he took aim at a deer she had already claimed. She stalked; he aimed. She pounced; he let fly.

The arrow had struck her shoulder, the impact knocking her off her feet. The Elf had tried to approach, but she was all gnashing teeth and toothy snarls, and he had stayed hidden in the shadows until her instinctive defenses wore off and she drifted in and out of consciousness. He had taken her back to his dwelling and had cared for her for a time, until she was strong enough to make her way back to her own Fae clan.

Her nickname had been earned in the haze of her instinctive violence as she had lashed out at anything that came near her. She loved the nickname. She loved him. She had always thought that Syrus would be the one to take the risk of being bound away from her. Indeed, there had been nights in his dwelling, after the thrill of hunting together, when he had laid back, his languid body sprawled over his thin mattress, letting her run her hands over the jaggedness of his chest.

Kindly, gently, he had told her of Arianna, his prevveda, his soulmate, who had been killed decades ago. But the Elves were like the Fae – Eternal, immortal. The effect and importance of time became lost. What mattered was the horrible hollow place she had left in his soul. Although Laiyla knew he loved her, it was not a love of passion but one of kinship. He approached her with all the affection of an older brother for his little sister. It was endearing and uncomplicated, and she had loved him back.

A cramp gripped her abdomen, a bolt of pain shot through her skull. The pain was familiar. She could practically feel Venlen stalking her, pulling her back to him on his side of the bond. He had walked away from her. All she had done was stay on the road. She grimaced as another wave of agony shot through her, trying to reason with the pain. Annoyingly, it didn't respond to logic, apparently fixated on the fact that he wanted her close and she was staying away.

Syrus took in her pained expression. "Torri? What's wrong?" Her eyes darted to where she and the healer had just been on the road. They were just barely hidden beyond the tree line. The healer was nowhere to be seen. She looked back at her beautiful Syrus, cupping a hand to his linear cheek.

"Syrus, listen to me. You must run, now. Get away from here as fast as you can. You have no idea how much trouble I'm in, how much trouble you'll be in if you don't go now." She wriggled in his arms, demanding to be put down. Concern clouded his face as he placed her gently on the ground.

"Torri, what's going on? What's happening?"

The sound of her friend speaking the name she had been before the reisnaig had taken her made her heart ache painfully. In the momentary reprieve from the ever-present influence of the bond, in the familiar forest with a friend who cared for her and respected her and smelled so strongly of home, in the grip of a pain that licked across her skin and made her growl with the pure injustice of it all, she allowed herself to look back on all that had happened.

It shattered her.

For all that he was, for all he had done to her, all the ways he had caused her pain, how could she have let herself feel for the man who held her life on a leash? He had threatened, manipulated, struck, took and hurt. He was a monster, regardless of what he had done when he had found her with Raul, regardless of how Eila had hinted at something different. She let the truth of what she had told him earlier wash over her.

I consider you my enemy... You forget yourself, and you forget me... I will kill you.

The promise had felt sour on her mouth at the time, in his presence, knowing it would hurt him to hear his precious little doll say such violent and rebellious things. Now, thinking of her words, she imagined they would taste metallic, almost coppery, on her tongue. Like blood. She was suddenly very thirsty.

Gathering her thoughts, bringing the shattered pieces of her mind back into focus, she glared up at her friend with her hands on her hips. "Syrus, how exactly did you find me?"

Syrus blushed, a ridiculous thing for an Elf to do. His ivory skin wore the scarlet flush like war paint, and it was difficult to look away.

"Torri..." He paused, as if unsure of his next words. "Eila came to me. Just a few nights ago. I hadn't known that she had..." He trailed off, the look of anguish and grief on his face a mirror of her own.

He swallowed hard, the knot in his slender throat bobbing. "She told me to come here. She told me that you had been bound, that danger follows you always now. That you would need me. That you would need... This." he reached into the leather vest he wore, snug and comfortable against his muscular trunk. Laiyla almost recoiled when she saw what he held out to her.

There, on his outstretched palm, was her dagger.

The blade had been sheathed in slim leather. The hilt, engraved with the pattern of strangling vines, was clean of the blood she had seen it drenched in the last time she saw it. When Raul was using it to cut her open. She could sense the magic in it, could feel it calling to her. Hands shaking, she reached for it and curled her fingers around the hilt. The weight of it in her palm was familiar and perfect, and terrifying. She closed her eyes against the rush of emotions that threatened to pull her under. Another wave of pain shot through her core, and she almost doubled over.

Concern softening his severe features, his sharp edges, Syrus placed a comforting, slender hand on her back and hooked a finger under her chin to bring her eyes to his. "I won't pretend to understand what sort of mess you're in, little monster. But I do know this; Eila had a very specific purpose for bringing you this blade. She said for you to hide it and hide it well. She said it would sing to you when it was time to use it, and not to draw on it before then."

Laiyla nodded absently, tucking the blade into her boot. "Thank you, Syrus. You can't know what it means to me. But you have to go."

She straightened and looked up. Syrus was watching her, a mix of sadness and worry marring his beautiful face. Another shock of pain drove into her side, and she gritted her teeth.

"Syrus, please. The man who... did this... He's looking for me. I can... I can feel him, through whatever this terrible bond is. He's looking for me, and he's upset. We fought earlier. I threatened to kill him." She frowned. "Again."

Syrus beamed. "That's my little monster," he said, patting her approvingly on the top of her head. She scowled and pushed his hand away. "This is serious," she told him earnestly. "He could be here any minute. Please Syrus, you have to go!"

For the first time, Syrus looked nervous, his gleaming eyes searching her face. Soft, slender fingertips, so different from Venlen's calloused thick ones, grazed her forehead and caught a tear that had fallen without her even realizing she was crying. "Torri," he breathed. "What has he done to you?"

.......

Venlen sat in the shadows, watching, seething. There she was, his bonded Fae, standing just past the tree line with another man. Talking to him. Touching him. Crying against him as he cradled her. His body shook with the effort of restraining himself from tearing her from this man's fucking arms and snapping the fool's neck. He focused on his breathing and forced himself to listen, when all he wanted to do was to shred the male holding his keonai mouv to tiny little pieces with his bare hands.

The male was trying to comfort her, cooing to her, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. Little monster, he had called her. What an endearing little fucking pet name. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, reeling from the desire to reclaim what was rightfully his. It should be his arms holding her, his voice hushing and calming her, whispering words of love and praise into her ear. The thought of another male's lips anywhere near hers made his blood curdle.

The Elf couldn't control her. The angrier Venlen became, the more she felt it through the bond. She squirmed and cried, shoving herself out of his grip and begging him to leave. Through the insanity of his rage, he registered that no one could contain her like he could. No one knew how to touch her, what to say, how to play with her hair, the song to hum, the exact position nestled against his chest that could calm her, could make her feel safe.

She was his. That was his right.

He focused his attention back to Laiyla and the male.

She swiped her palm across her cheeks, drying her tears. "Eila told me something, Syrus. I don't think... He's not..." She trailed off, wringing her hands and looking around wildly.

I'm not what, Laiyla? He thought, curiosity penetrating the curtain violence that threatened to close over him.

A sound in the forest startled them all, closer to Laiyla and the male Elf than to Venlen. Laiyla froze. The almost imperceptible glow of her net rolled back to her like a wave. A look of pure terror came over her face, followed by one of grim determination. Venlen had seen both of those expressions before and knew exactly what was going on in his renegade Fae's mind. He signaled to his men, who moved wordlessly into the night.

"I'm so sorry, Syrus." Laiyla's voice was steady, full of the force that made her so wild, that drew him to her so strongly.

He could see the moment Laiyla entered his mind, the male's eyes going dull, his jaw going slack. His face was a blank slate, ready to follow any command Laiyla gave him. "I love you, Syrus," her voice was barely more than a whisper. "Now RUN."

The male turned and fled, his long, limber legs carrying him away from Laiyla at a dizzying speed. His attention turned back to his defiant little Fae.

She watched the male disappear into the forest, unaware of the shadow that followed after him.

Slowly, she turned to face the area the sound had come from. He knew what she was getting ready to do.

It was time for him to collect his little rebel.

.......

Syrus was running, sprinting without stopping, without considering why. There was no room in his brain to wonder at the reason for his flight. Mindlessly, he glided gracefully past tree and brush and animals small and large alike, all watching him with curious eyes. He had no sense of how long he had been running when he felt Torri's grip slowly release him. He slowed and stilled, huffing an exasperated breath. He thought about his little monster, about how terrified she had been, and decided to turn back. He would help her, regardless of whether or not she wanted him to.

A rustling of leaves caught his attention. A very large animal was moving through the forest. He kept moving, his deep respect for all life supported by the wood making him unafraid of whatever it was. Another sound, closer this time. He heard a deep growl that made the ground beneath his feet vibrate. For a second, he paused.

A second was too long. Glowing pink eyes locked on his. A creature of true evil emerged from the shadows. Syrus turned to run, and unlike before, he knew why.

He ran for his life.

............

Laiyla walked slowly toward where the sound had come from, looking for the dark creature she had sensed. She knew it had been close. She was willing to give her life to save Syrus. She knew that in her sacrifice, his salvation would also be her own. She would be free of the guilt that plagued her constantly, for the death of her friends, for the horrible way Eila had died, for the way Venlen had been able to manipulate her into almost caring for him, for the way he had used her to violate his own men.

She had no fear as she walked toward the place where death waited for her.

A noise caught her attention. She stilled, cocking her head to listen. The sound was too far away to cast a net. She pressed a hand to the nearest tree, asking a silent question. She had a terrible feeling deep in her gut. Something was very wrong.

A moment passed. Then two. The image that was pushed back into her palm unfurled slowly, as if the tree was trying to break the news to her gently.

It could not be real. It wasn't true.

Heart pounding in her ears, Laiyla sprinted to the area she knew to look for him, her legs burning past the point of exhaustion. By the time she got there, it was too late.

His beautiful black hair was matted and tangled with fallen leaves and sticks. The angular lines of his face were soft now, broken. There was so much blood, too much blood to even recognize that the shredded, ruined thing that lay before her had ever been her Syrus.

Laiyla crumbled. Her hands shook as she tried to find something solid, something that was still recognizable, to hold on to, but there was nothing left. A tidal wave came from the depths of her soul. It swept away everything. She knelt, as if in prayer, touching her forehead to the ground as she sat back on her feet. She had nothing. She was nothing. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, but no tears would come. It was all she could do to whisper the name of her friend, as if calling to him to come back.

"Laiyla." His voice was like a purr. It stroked warm fingers down her spine. How she hated that voice. She kept her forehead to the ground, her palms pressed to the sides of her head.

"Laiyla. Braenn mael laevvi."

She closed her eyes. Come back to me. The old Oden words were laced with the magic of intention and she fought against the compulsion to turn away from Syrus and run to him.

She sensed him coming closer. The pain from the bond seared through her, making it hard to breathe. She didn't move.

She felt, rather than heard, a low growl. She cast her net, sensing exactly where the evil thing was. She sprang to her feet, ignoring Venlen, making a path straight for it.

She nearly ran into it.

The thing was a terrible mimicry of a very large wolf. Sharp spikes adorned its back. Impossible fangs dripped a green, thick substance, promising hours of agony. The snout was a blade, sharpened to a point. Everything about this creature was a weapon. It almost looked... manufactured.

It was covered in blood. Syrus' blood.

She crouched, keeping low to the ground, balancing her center of gravity. Ready to spring, determined to leave this world kicking and screaming and fighting, fighting for revenge, fighting for her friend, she readied.

You want me, pup? Come and get me. The thing stalked forward.

A hand clamped over her mouth and wrapped around her middle. She was lifted off the ground and yanked back against a solid mass of muscle and leather.

"Oh no you don't." His voice was almost a purr.

She kicked out, flailing against the man who held her in a vice-like restraint. A voice gripped her in its overwhelming intensity. It was everywhere, it was everything. It seared through her, burning her skin, tearing at her insides.

Don't move.

A flash of a blade. A slight movement out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't move a muscle, her body refusing to follow her commands. The creature's head exploded, torn in half by the blow of a battle axe. Pink eyes flashed, fluttered, then went dark. Oily, black blood ran in rivulets from where the axe had ripped its head apart.

Breathe.

She sucked in a breath, her lungs burning. She hadn't even known she'd been holding it in.

Laiyla let loose a horrible, anguished scream. Air swirled around them like a tornado. It whipped at her hair and tugged at her clothes. Venlen looked around them in awe, lowering her to her feet. Leaves and torn branches were caught up and surged through the air creating a cocoon of brown and green.

He framed her face with his hands, shouting her name. He shook her, hugged her, tried to calm her mind. Nothing worked. The air around them continued to swirl, dangerously powerful, the debris flying through the air like chaff. Not knowing what else to do, unable to stop it, he sat crosslegged and pulled her onto his lap. Her body was rigid. He held her to him, stroked the hair that was wild in the wind. She couldn't hear him over the sound of the tornado she was creating, but he started humming to her just the same. He held her like that, curling his body around her, until it stopped.

Laiyla went limp in his arms. He had to peel her off him to make sure she was breathing. Her eyes were hooded and distant. He pulled her back toward him, cradling her head to his chest as he sat with her. He kissed the hair at the top of her head, wild with tangles. "I'm so sorry, keonai mouv."

So quiet he could barely hear her, she whispered into his chest. "You should have let it kill me." Venlen didn't answer. He stayed there, his keonai mouv falling to pieces in his arms, until she fell asleep.

.........

From a great distance, she heard him bark an order to set up a tent. He held her close, humming and whispering words of comfort into her ear. She didn't know what he was saying, couldn't have focused on his words even if she had wanted to.

After a time, she was inside, surrounded in the warmth of his body and a pile of furs. She was too exhausted to push him away. She felt his hands sliding over her body, caressing and stroking. Tender kisses were pressed to her eyelids, along her jaw, the corners of her mouth. His lips fell onto hers, gentle at first, then more urgent.

She did nothing to stop him. She did nothing to encourage him. She closed her eyes. What happened here, to this body, no longer mattered to her.

She felt Venlen slip inside of her. It felt good, the way he filled her up, the way he moved with and against her. His movements sped up, became stronger and more insistent. His body covered hers, and it felt like a coffin. A hand gripped her chin. He wanted her to look at him. She thought she might have but wasn't sure.

He flipped her onto her stomach and held her hips up to meet his. Like she had done before Syrus, she laid her forehead to the ground as he entered her from behind. He was fucking her frantically now, reaching around her to swirl his fingers around her clit. She knew he was trying to please her, trying to reach her through the haze. Her body responded as she crested a different kind of wave, her skin tingling as she felt his fire filling her up. She groaned as he ground his hips against hers, pushing so far into her his cock grazed her cervix. When he withdrew, she felt him dripping out of her.