Chapter Twenty-One

DAY SEVEN—Unknown Location... Then At Sea

Lowery hated being summoned to Master’s office.

If the raised voices on the other side of the office door were any clue, he would really hate his summons today. The last time he’d been with his master, Mortimer had ripped out every finger and toe nail, then beat him with acid covered batons—one of the many ways he’d learned could damage his supposedly indestructible body.

The skin across his back still hadn’t healed and while his claws had grown back, they hurt to the touch.

No stranger to pain, he opened the door and stepped inside, head bowed.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Mortimer raged.

“I-in my room, Master.”

“We should beat him,” said the unknown fire wizard from the other day. “It is his fault the Fae Lord escaped.”

Fucking Dane.

It always had something to do with Dane.

“No, then I will have to hear his voice as he cries out.” Mortimer stormed up to Lowery and he hated himself for flinching. Master got in his face and Lowery studied the warlock’s furious dark eyes. “Do not speak. You have caused me nothing but trouble, gargoyle. Now because of your incompetence, we’ve lost many hallowed objects and tomes. We’ve lost a big source of nourishment and power.”

Nourishment and power? Some of their captives must’ve escaped. He tried not to grin.

“Who has escaped?” Lowery asked.

Mortimer shoved him and he stumbled. “I did not say you could speak!”

Terror sickened him at the idea of punishments he might receive for disobeying his master, until he realized he’d just disobeyed a direct order.

He’d looked Master in the eye though he’d been ordered to never do so without permission first.

Which meant only one thing.

Mortimer no longer had his statue.

When he reached for the connection, Lowery sensed the missing link.

His statue must’ve been stolen too.

“I called you here for a reason, gargoyle,” Mortimer snarled. “You will go with Atticus. While you are with him, you will obey his orders as if they were directly from me.”

The sadistic glint in the fire wizard’s navy blue eyes didn’t scare Lowery.

“No.”

“What did you say?” Mortimer demanded.

A cocky smile filled his face. “I will not go with him. You are not my master anymore.”

An instant before the warlock could throw a potion or the fire wizard could attack, he popped out of the house that had been his cage for almost a hundred years.Leaving behind a horrid life, his prison for centuries.

Lowery filled his aching lungs with a deep salty breath. He stood on a beach, the ocean crashing over the stones. He’d always loved the beach. Rejoicing, he raised his hands in the air and soaked in the sun. He took another breath and exhaled it on a jubilant laugh.

I’m free!

He no longer had to work for the warlock or his nasty human partners.

As quickly as the joy came, reality struck Lowery like a physical blow. Mortimer didn’t have his statue.

But someone else did.

He was not free.

I never will be.

Bile rose in his throat and he fought the urge to weep. His palms began to sweat, fearing who might have it now.

He needed a drink. Mortimer had never allowed him the bliss of escape from alcohol and he longed for it now. And sex. He needed sex.

Fuck, I need sex, touch.

Feeling.

So, so many pleasures he’d been denied for centuries. Alcohol, sleep, food. Mortimer had even directly forbidden Lowery to orgasm, and not just via self-pleasure. Mortimer, the sadist, had loved watching those vamps edge him until the pain became unbearable. And the sound of his belly rumbling while Mortimer feasted in front of him? It had brough him so much joy.

Now, his body had awakened as he shed the power of his past commands. His entire being gnawed with an almost-forgotten hunger, needs he’d learned to ignore. His pulse skipped, as if it knew pleasure was finally coming.

Yes, Lowery intended to indulge in every carnal delight.

Who knew how long it would take for a new master to summon him or destroy his stone? Unless somehow every piece of stone could be reconnected—an all but impossible feat—destroying his stone would end his immortal existence.

Lowery reached out with magic, wondering if a human tavern was nearby. Not too far away, he sensed a bar. Instead of teleporting, he walked, dread making his feet heavy in the sand, but the sun refreshing as he refused to hurry. He decided not to change out of his suit. If he only had a few moments of freedom, he would do it in Armani silk.

He smelled the fried food, and heard the steel drum music and laughter before he saw the beachside bar. He bit back tears of joy, desperation. There was no resort, but the strong smell of fish told Lowery they were near a fishery and a marina. The bar looked friendly and welcoming—two things his life had never been. He trudged up the walkway, and straightened his posture when the human revelers spied him. The blue-eyed gaze of a particularly handsome man caught his, and Lowery forced a smile.

Would he have time to court and bed a man before his new master summoned him?

“Howdy there,” the friendly bartender greeted. “Pull up a stool.”

“Greetings.” Lowery sat in the empty stool beside the still smiling blue-eyed stranger.

“What can I get ya?” the bartender asked.

Lowery glanced at Blue Eyes, noticing he had some red concoction with a tiny umbrella and fruit. “That looks tasty.”

“It is,” his hopefully new friend said. Blue Eyes pressed his bare knee in shorts to Lowery’s thigh for the briefest moment, making the gargoyle smile.

When was the last time I was simply touched without pain?

Dane.

After Master flayed the skin off my back and allowed feral rats to graze on my bloodied flesh, Dane held my hand between the bars, whispering—No!

NO!

He hated that fucking fairy.

“A strawberry daiquiri it is.” The bartender brought his attention back to the present as he began mixing the cocktail.

“Don’t be skimpy on the rum,” Lowery said, surprising himself with the command.

“You got it. If you’re hungry, fried snapper and hush puppies are today’s special.”

His stomach nearly embarrassed him with a growl.

Blue Eyes smiled at Lowery and lewdly sucked on his straw. Lowery squirmed a little at the delicious sight.

“You’re awfully dressed up for this place.”

“My car broke down and I followed the music,” Lowery lied. “I needed a drink.”

“Just a drink?”

Suddenly an unwelcome summons itched his back.

Fuck my life!

Fearing he might never get this chance again, Lowery boldly leaned forward and kissed the man on the mouth. He dove his tongue in and tasted strawberry and heaven.

Blue Eyes flinched and pulled back, shock turning into a broad smile.“Well, hel-lo!”

Lowery smiled in return. “Excuse me, I must go now. Perhaps if the Goddess has not forgotten me, I will return.” With reluctance, Lowery pushed back his barstool and conjured a twenty. Tossing it on the bar, he stood.

Blue Eyes frowned. “You just gonna do that and leave?”

“I must.”

“You in some kind of trouble?”

“That remains to be seen.” Since the man had not recoiled, Lowery kissed him again, deeper this time with tongue, and a hunger, centuries in the waiting. A catcall issued from somewhere nearby, but Lowery didn’t care. He might never have this freedom again.

Breathless, he withdrew.

The man’s eyes fluttered open, lips red and swollen. “Whoa.”

“Thank you,” Lowrey whispered, knowing this man would never know what he’d given the dark creature.

The itching on his spine intensified, and with one last longing glance, Lowery slipped away, ducking behind the small building that housed the kitchens of the bar. Once out of sight, he answered his new master’s summons, overcome with fear that his last master might be better than the unknown.

To his shock, Dane stood in the room before Lowery.

“You will harm no one here,” Dane ordered and the decree itched over his skin, leaving Lowery unable to defend himself.

But it didn’t silence him.

“You have my statue,” he said unnecessarily.

“I do,” answered the Fae Lord Lowery had lived with for decades and tortured for just as many.

His once friend turned most hated enemy.

The only thing he controlled to stop his own endless pain.

Dane was his master.

Lowery was fucked.

“Master,” Lowery gritted out. He bowed and hastily glanced around the room before Dane could order him not to. He didn’t see his statue, but Dane’s human mate stood behind him, along with the Fae king, two Fae Lords, the last Magi, a grey-haired air wizard, and an unknown magical powerhouse with a goatee and a scowl.

Hmm, quite the welcome party.

Saying nothing more, he locked his gaze on his shoes.

What punishments awaited?

Lowrey couldn’t imagine the vengeance he would inflict, had the tables been turned. Would it get so bad, Lowery would pray to the Goddess for Mortimer’s familiar cruelty?

“I should have destroyed it, and believe me I thought about it,” Dane told him. His big human mate placed a hand on his shoulder and a flash of anger and jealousy swept through Lowery when the Fae leaned into his mate’s touch.

They had formed a true bond.

So unfair!

“But my mate and I spoke at great length about you last night.”

Lowery would not have been speaking about the dark days of his wretched life when he had a willing man to fuck. He thought about Blue Eyes and hated Dane even more for denying him that simple pleasure.

I didn’t even get my fucking drink!

“You were as much a prisoner as I was,” Dane continued. “I know you enjoyed hurting me though. I cannot forgive you for that. But there are more important things going on than vengeance. We need information and I believe you may be useful. You will always answer my questions honestly. You will never lie to me. I will ask for information and you will give it. You will not hold back secrets, even if I don’t ask.”

Fucking direct commands.

Dane was no fool. He knew Lowery was powerless to defy him.

“Yes, Master.”

“Tell me everything you know about the people who held me captive. There were warlocks and humans. I know the humans worked for ‘the masters.’ Tell me everything you know about them.”

Lowery bit back a smile. He knew little of value, but he would gladly betray his captors if it meant pleasing his new master, so the command was easy to obey. “I have no clue who all the masters are, but the warlock who previously controlled my statue was one of them. Mortimer is ancient, and he has three human Illuminati who answer directly to him.”

“The Illuminati?” The human mate looked surprised. “Like as in the secret cult of powerful men?”

“That’s what the humans believe,” Lowery snarked, savoring the freedom to speak as he pleased. Who knew how long it would last? “The Illuminati are humans who have made a dark magical promise to warlocks in exchange for immortality and human power. I’ve only met the ones who answer to Mortimer. Claus, Petra, and Harold are their names. You remember Harold, don’t you?” Lowery enjoyed the flash of horror crossing Dane’s face. Watching a rotting Harold feed directly from Dane had been repulsive, but threat of it happening again—which it had—mostly kept the Fae compliant.

And if Dane remained compliant, Mortimer wasn’t as cruel to Lowery.

Seemed like a fair trade-off at the time.

The human mate clenched his fists, and if Lowery feared pain or humans, he might’ve flinched. Apparently, Dane had confided about Harold to his mate—intriguing.

“Can you give us a description of these humans and Mortimer?” the Fae King asked.He was handsome, like all Fae, but he represented everything Lowery hated about his fellow paras.

Peace, harmony, hypocrisy.

If the Fae King truly cared about dark magic users like the rumors claimed, people like Lowery wouldn’t be enslaved.

Lowery didn’t answer. Didn’t want to and didn’t have to. The king was not his master.

“Create a magical picture of each of them and anyone else who was involved,” Dane commanded.

Drawing on his magic, he produced a small stack of pictures and handed them to Dane. “Top one is Mortimer, then a couple warlocks who worked for him. And Illuminati. You should recognize them.” Enjoying Dane’s shudder of recognition, Lowery pointed at the next picture as Dane sifted through them. “That’s Greyson and the last two are a fire wizard named Atticus and another ancient human named Richard, who only recently joined him.”

“Anyone else?” Dane demanded.

Lowery almost said ‘no’ but magic itched his neck. He hastily made more papers of people he’d long forgotten before handing them over. “These two are warlocks, but I haven’t seen them since before they captured you. That one’s a water wizard who used to pop up occasionally. And those three haven’t been around in a long, long time. Her name was Ivy. She’s a gorgon. The other two were a vampire and his sire.”

“What did these people do for Mortimer?”

“They came and went. I don’t know what they did for him.”

It was the truth.

“Did you have any interactions with them?”

“I was usually commanded to be invisible so they didn’t know I was there. But sometimes...” He fought a shudder but the gargoyle/master bond forced him to say, “They tested potions and spells on me, or just spit at me and insulted me. Raped me. The water wizard liked water-boarding. Ivy enjoyed burning me with her saliva. The vamps drank my blood after Mast—Mortimer made a potion with her saliva that allowed their teeth to puncture my skin. He was very creative, that way. Wasn’t sad when that trio didn’t come back again.”

No one said anything.

Ugh! Did Dane expect more than the Cliff’s Notes of his pathetic existence? He’d blocked Ivy and those cruel vamps from his mind decades ago. Fucking master/slave magic forcing him to remember!

“I swear to the Goddess,” Lowery cried when no one said anything and the silence stirred more memories he wanted to remain hidden. “Those are all the faces I’ve seen in Mortimer’s company over the centuries I was his slave.” That word was important to throw out there and thus far didn’t violate any commands. “I was never involved in their machinations. I have no idea what they did or where they went when they weren’t hurting or experimenting on me. I don’t know anything else. The last home he kept me in was heavily warded, so I couldn’t even tell you where it was.”

“Any guesses or hints that might help us find the home?” the Magus asked.

Lowery deliberated whether or not to answer someone who didn’t possess his statue, but before he decided, Dane said, “Always answer the Magus honestly, as you would your master.”

Clever fucking fairy.

“The weather was always hot and muggy. I had a small window in my basement room that looked out at a green lawn, but I could see little else because of the heavy tree line. There was Spanish moss on the trees and I’m pretty sure it is in America.”

The men in the room shared a look and Lowery wanted to laugh as he imagined them combing the American South searching for any sign of dark warlock magic, until Dane commanded, “Make a photo so we can teleport there. Also make photos of all the other places you were kept, so we may look for clues there too.”

It was no skin off Lowery’s nose—been there done that, literally—so he made several pictures, the magic making him recall in great detail the rooms he’d been kept in that he’d long since forgotten. He hoped they found Mortimer, poured acid on his face, tore his heart out and ate it, then pissed on his corpse and set it afire. Then found a practitioner of necromancy to bring him back to life and do it all over again. Just slower.And maybe cut off his fingers and dick and fed them to hyenas.

Hells yes, he had a vengeful streak.

“What are these so-called masters after?” the Fae king asked as he handed the pictures to the unknown para. His magic seemed water based, but Lowery couldn’tplace his species.

Curious.

“Always answer the Fae king honestly, as you would your master,” Dane commanded when Lowery remained silent.

Ugh, I hate you.

“I don’t really know, but it’s always about power with these types, isn’t it? I do know that Mortimer hates you,” he told the king. “And your husband and everyone else involved in this sanctuary of yours. He looks at this ship as wasted assets. He’s said so more than once.”

“Is this Mortimer their leader?” the human mate asked. He was twice Dane’s size, handsome and tattooed. Lowery had only felt a little bad when he shot him. Now he hated him along with Dane, both symbols of his continued imprisonment.

“Always answer my mate honestly, as if he were your master,” Dane ordered.

Fuck this fairy and his damn direct commands!

Lowery couldn’t even find a loophole!

“I have no idea,” Lowery answered after a sigh. “He might be, but there are others he works with or for, I can’t even guess who. When something went wrong, Mortimer grew afraid of someone. I never learned who or what, because I was too busy being tortured until he felt better. You know? Reaffirming his power and all that jazz.”

“What else did you do, besides hurt me?” Dane asked.

Lowery forced himself not to flinch or feel guilt.

Fuck, you! I was a prisoner too!

“He sent me on assignments occasionally to retrieve things,” Lowery answered. “With direct orders not to interact with another soul. Otherwise I was in your cell or mine. Or I was being tortured for shits and giggles. I was never given carte blanche to move anywhere or to do any sleuthing. I obeyed or I was tortured. That’s. It.”

The truth was, Lowery had been alone for centuries. The only companion he’d been allowed was his current master, and the fairy justifiably hated him. For some reason, Mortimer had permitted Lowery books—mostly dime-novels, like romances or cozy mysteries that Mortimer found to be idiotic drivel. Between those pages Lowery gleaned much about the world as it changed, the author’s research Lowery’s education.It had also been like taunting King Tantalus with fresh fruit and receding water in Tartarus.

But whatever.

“What sort of assignments were you given?” the air wizard asked. He wore a Nike track suit, which wasn’t very wizard-like at all.

Seriously, get a velvet robe!

“Always answer Darrius honestly, as you would your master,” Dane said again.

Ugh!

“What assignments was I given besides getting blood and information from you?” he repeated, knowing the risk of being blunt, but needing Dane to understand that, on a cellular level, Lowery had just been obeying orders.

The years he spent in the cell beside Dane had been the most pleasant in recent memory, though he’d been under orders the whole time to report back to Mortimer anything of value Dane might offer. At one time he’d liked Dane. When Lowery had been assigned to oversee the fairy, he’d felt guilty following the orders to hurt him... at first. But he’d enjoyed it sometimes too. After having his own skin melted off, his fingers removed, his dick cut off coupled with the agonizing months waiting for it to grow back, Dane had been his only outlet for revenge.

The only way to stop his own hurt.

Fucked up, sure, but one did what he had to in order to survive.

“Tell us about these assignments,” Dane said simply. He’d become a master at concealing his emotions.

“He and his cult friends collected magical artifacts and spells, what they did with them, I have no clue. They also captured any para they could get their hands on. I’m sure you recognized the different bloods in their dark magic. I was sent to retrieve many things over the three-hundred-and-twenty-seven years Mortimer held my statue. A grimoire, a scroll, maybe some magical obelisk. My tasks were varied and irregular, but I was only sent after artifacts, never paras. I do not have an answer as to what he did with anything I retrieved. I do know that a big cache was stolen recently. I assume you had something to do with that?”

“We stole nothing that wasn’t stolen first,” the king retorted.

Lowery shrugged. “When did you come by my statue?”

“Two days ago,” Dane answered.

Lowery didn’t know who he hated more just then. Mortimer for not telling him or Dane for being the reason he’d just spent two days of freedom in that fucking basement prison!

The gargoyle studied the Fae Lord. His sweet face—handsome, now that he was healthy and mated—remained completely unreadable.

“Did you free any paras?”Lowery asked.

“Yes, four Fae,” Dane replied. “Did you know anything about them?”

“No.” He wasn’t sure if he was relieved four more Fae had escaped because it would anger Mortimer and foil whatever nefarious plans he had, or because he actually hated the idea of other paras being enslaved. “I know that one had done something to spoil its blood, corrupting it somehow so it made Richard sick, or like reverse aged him. I don’t know who or what the Fae is, just that it was male.”

Lowery didn’t miss the uncomfortable glances the demi-god, the king, and his Magus exchanged.

Interesting.

“Do you know how many they have captured?” the king demanded. “Or where they might be?”

Unable to refuse an answer, Lowery shook his head. “They must have enough to keep humans alive for centuries, because they possess what seems an endless supply of enchanted blood mixes for painting sigils and creating potions. I have no clue as to the source of any of it, outside of our beloved Dane’s.” He tried not to snarl. “I’ve lived in many underground cells during my captivity with Mortimer, as you can see.” He gestured to the stack of pictures. “I was occasionally allowed to leave to complete an assignment, but that was it. I assumed others were kept in similar underground locations, but how many or where they might be, I cannot tell you.”

When the paras and human in the room shared looks, Lowery realized the conversation had come to an end. As far as snitches went, Lowery wasn’t a very good one, because he frankly knew nothing about what Mortimer was up to, other than being ordered to collect magical objects and Dane’s blood—both by any means necessary.

He’d told them what little he knew, so what would become of him?

“Now that you know what I know, which is nothing, do you mean to kill me?” Lowery hoped it was quick, and he almost welcomed the reprieve. He thought of Blue Eyes and felt a peace settle over him. At least he had that memory. Perhaps life as a spirit would be better. Anything would be better than the shit hand he’d been dealt.Maybe he would be reborn. As a creation of the last Fae king, Lowery always assumed gargoyles had mates too, like the Magi, if the Goddess hadn’t forgotten their kind.

Though She probably had.

“I am not going to kill you,” Dane said after a pregnant pause.

“Honestly?”

“Yes. But I do want something from you.”

“Naturally.”

“You will continue to obey my first orders. In addition, you will voluntarily come to me if you uncover any information about Mortimer or people you suspect might be working with or for him. You will report strangers who you suspect mean any para harm, be they para or human. You will tell me any whisper you hear about Mortimer’s enemies or even something small that makes you think, oh I’ll bet Mortimer and his cronies did that. You will report suspicious things you see, rumors about missing paras. You will report clues you uncover. You will report anything you think I may be interested in. My goal to stop these monsters imprisoning, hurting, and using paras is now your goal. You will devote yourself to finding this group or groups, be they paras or humans, who want to harm anyone who respects the Treaty. You will help me take them all down. You will bring any broken or lost para that you discover to the Pride. You will seek out and rescue captive paras then bring them here. And you will never lie or hold back information that might help us find missing paras or stolen magics.”

Lowery wouldn’t grasp the gravity of that long list of commands until he tried to do something and the magical binding prevented it.

So much for free will.

“Yes, Master.”What else could he say?

“Don’t call me Master.”

Lowery smirked. “Is that an order?” It was risky talking back, but he had the impression Dane wouldn’t hurt him. Taking the risk to get such proof was worth it.

Dane frowned. “No, but I do not want to be called Master. I’ll never be like Mortimer or his sick friends. But I cannot trust you. I’m sure you understand. So I will give you one more command before I let you go.”

Let me go?

“You are under my full orders to never harm an innocent again. Do you understand?”

Still trying to wrap his head around Dane’s declaration he would let him go, Lowery only nodded.

“Good,” Dane said. “If I need your help finding missing paras, you will answer my summons. My orders to never lie to me, to find clues about missing paras, return them, help us discover and destroy our enemies, while not harming innocents will always be your first priorities as long as I have your statue.”

Fuck, he was dropping orders better than Mortimer ever did!

“I won’t call on you unnecessarily,” Dane continued. “Neither of us want that.”

Lowery couldn’t agree more.But since he doubted Dane meant it, he said nothing.

Dane studied him intently. “If you obey all of my commands, without error, and you have not caused any hurt or chaos, in one hundred years, I will return your statue to you.”

Lowery didn’t think he heard the fairy correctly.

“You what now?”

“If you never lie to me, if you help me find my missing people, and you harm no one else, then I will return your statue to you.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

Dane wasn’t fazed by his blatant disrespect. “I wanted to kill you, Lowery, but I also realize you were not in control of your actions. You were nothing if not Mortimer’s pawn. His slave. However, that didn’t stop you from enjoying hurting me. Take the next century to become a better person. If you can do that, you can have your freedom.”

“That’s it? You will not torture me or imprison me? You’ll let me leave?”

“As long as you do everything you can to help me free paras and catch these assholes, then yes.”

He couldn’t just take that at face value. “And then, if I am honest with you and come to you with information, help you find paras, and take down my former masters, then in one hundred years, you’ll pass my judgment?”

“You will pass your own judgment by your own choices. But yes.”

“So I can leave right now, and you won’t stop me?”

Dane nodded.

Without hesitation, Lowery disappeared. He held his breath, waiting in a shadow dimension, but there was no itchy summoning spell.

Could it be this easy?

Lowery doubted it, but he imagined Dane meant his words, at least for the time being. He had a new soul bond to preoccupy himself with, so Lowery would take the reprieve until the little fairy summoned him again asking for information Lowery didn’t possess. Hopefully he wouldn’t torture him when he didn’t give him the answers he sought. Maybe if Lowery came to him with information, Dane would actually make due on his promise.

Not that the promise of a master meant much besides the promise of pain.

A worry for another day.

With a real spring in his step, he reappeared at the tiki bar on the beach. He didn’t trust Dane one fucking iota, but for the moment it seemed his lot in life had vastly improved under his new master who did not want to be addressed as such. Knowing this good fortune wouldn’t last long—no one could resist the power of a slave magically unable to disobey—Lowery headed back to the bar where a strawberry daiquiri, some fried food, a blue-eyed stranger, and an uncertain future awaited him.

––––––––

“Well, that went better than expected,” Lieutenant Briggs remarked after the gargoyle disappeared.

“Indeed,” the king said, standing close to Captain Leonides. The latter had a supportive hand on his husband’s back as they studied the pictures Dane had ordered Lowery to make.

Dane had been correct, the two men were a perfect example of soul mates.

Though that gargoyle fucker was made of stone and it would’ve broken his hand, Marcus wished he could’ve punched Lowery right in the face. Thoughts of vengeance disappeared when, beside him, Dane let out a shuddery breath.

His man needed his support, not revenge.

“You did good, baby.” Marcus kissed his cheek. “Real good.”

“You did excellent,” Kevin declared. Everyone but the king seemed surprised by the Fae Lord’s uncharacteristic compliment. “All direct commands. That fucker won’t even know how much he has to obey you for years. Good job, Dane.”

“Thank you,” Marcus said for the shell-shocked Dane.

Concerned, Marcus wrapped his arm around Dane’s shoulders and ushered him into a chair in the far corner, giving them some privacy as the others examined all the pictured the gargoyle had provided.

“Sit down, baby,” he whispered and Dane obeyed. Marcus grabbed a chair and sat beside him. He caressed Dane’s back, knowing he needed support while he processed. His courage was admirable, but Marcus knew, despite his front, that Dane wasn’t as calm as he seemed.

He’d just stood up to the creature who’d tortured him for how long?

As the rest of the men discussed the next steps in this fight, Marcus watched his mate for any sign that confronting his jailer had hurt him. Marcus had been awed, watching Dane calmly interact with the cocky gargoyle, finally understanding Dane’s cold icy demeanor, which had hurting and confusing Marcus all this time. Dane’s protective outer shield was impenetrable, the way he’d needed it to be. Marcus was just grateful Dane no longer felt the need to keep it raised when they were alone.

That trust was a gift he didn’t plan on taking for granted.

“Dane?” Their eyes met, brown to lilac, and Marcus smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

“You are?”

Keeping one hand on Dane’s back, Marcus ran his fingertips down his mate’s bare forearm. “Of course I’m proud of you, and... I’m sorry.”

Dane offered a tense smile. “I thought we were not apologizing for things we didn’t do.”

“But I did do something, sweetheart.”

Dane studied Marcus, waiting.

Marcus soldiered on, not giving anyone else in the room a thought. Let them hear, he didn’t care. “Your initial rejection hurt me, but I’m beginning to understand those bastards damaged you in ways I can’t fathom. How could you begin to trust me when all you could see was a reminder of them? I’m sorry it took me so long to get outside of my own head and realize how overwhelming this must have been for you. I wish I could go back and be more supportive, more understanding.”

“I wish great many things had been different in both my life and yours,” Dane said softly. “But the roads we have traveled brought us here today. The things we have suffered may have harmed us, but doesn’t that make what we share or the trust we give more powerful?”

“I’d like to think so,” Marcus managed around the lump in his throat.

“I should never have rejected you,” Dane said, brushing his knuckles down Marcus’s cheek. “I am sorry too.”

Marcus leaned in and brushed their lips together. “Hey now, didn’t we say no more apologizing?”

“You’re the one who started the apologies again,” Dane countered with a coy smirk.

“Can you forgive me for not supporting you?”

“Hush now,” Dane cooed, smiling genuinely. “How were you supposed to know how to support or understand me when you did not even know anything about me?”

“I know, but—”

“No, Marcus. I do not wish for any more hurt caused by others to affect what we have. Let us move forward with trust and affection. Let us leave all of it in the past. What do you say?”

He gave him a trembling smile. “I say, hell yes.”

A throat clearing startled the new soul mates, reminding them they were not alone.

While the men in the room pretended not to be listening in, the king openly watched them. Marcus wondered if he approved of their soul bond. Either way, he wasn’t embarrassed of their heartfelt exchange and tightened his arm around Dane’s shoulders.

Phone in hand, Theron told them, “I’ve sent two mated Fae Lords to search Mortimer’s last known location. They’ll check out all the other locations too.”

“They’re probably scrubbed clean by now,” Kevin muttered irritably.

“Luca and Enrique will have answers for us shortly,” Theron said. “They were quite effective with our captured guard.”

Marcus had all but forgotten that they’d kept a man for questioning yesterday. Before he could ask what they’d learned, the king was moving on to another topic. “Thank you, Theron. Now we need to discuss security. I don’t like that a gargoyle was on my ship. Or that it broke through our wards. It is unacceptable.”

Briggs blanched. “I am sorry. It’s not an excuse, but I suspect the looser wards on the entrance ramps allowing paras to board the ship may have been a point of entry.” He nodded at the wizard. “It could also be the portal to his library.”

“I’ve shut that portal down permanently,” Darrius said. “Select personnel will still have access to the library, but for now, it remains closed.”

“I have my team combing every inch of the ship looking for any other sign of weakness,” Briggs added.

“I thought the same about the library portal,” Theron agreed. “I believe new wards should be cast over the entire ship, any of our boats, and the islands.”

“I’ll ask Kaleeb to alert those below the sea,” Briggs added. “Perhaps Aleek as well. He swims far, he might hear something.”

“I’ll contact Galen.”

“Agreed, to all of it,” the captain said. He’d been quiet this whole time, standing in support of his mate the way Marcus was trying to do.

“I’ll get right on top of this, captain,” Briggs assured him. “Theron, will you add your juju before you get yourself hitched?”

“Of course.”

Marcus felt bad Theron had been dragged into this with his wedding at sunset tonight. But his stalwart friend was all business. Hopefully Lewis wasn’t upset they’d stolen his fiancé for the day. Marcus figured as long as the wedding happened perfectly, what Theron spent his day doing wouldn’t be a big deal. Lewis might be a bridezilla, as Kendra claimed, but his priorities were in order.

Saving lives took precedence over wedding cake and flowers.

Marcus fought a yawn. Not the company or topic, rather, exhaustion from staying up all night while having his heart broken and put back together after his mate explained everything he’d suffered. Then, because they’d been too keyed up to sleep, they’d made love again—Marcus tenderly taking Dane, face to face. Late into last night or perhaps early this morning, Marcus and Dane had continued the conversation from the bar about second chances. Though not ready to forgive Lowrey, Dane had realized the gargoyle was better alive than dead. He could be valuable to their mission in finding lost or kidnapped paras and Marcus agreed.

If using Lowry could save paras, the reward outweighed the risk.

So Marcus joined Dane for a meeting with the king, Captain Leonides, Theron, Darrius, Fae Lords Kevin and Jacob, along with the security guy Briggs. They’d convened early this morning in the same conference room, with the addition of the gargoyle statue Marcus had once thought was cool but now hated.

While little was known about the creatures, Darrius believed whomever laid their hand upon the stone and did the summoning became its new master. They all agreed Dane should do it. Marcus had been concerned, until Dane had explained direct orders controlled the dark creature and the risk was minimal. A gargoyle was unable to harm its master, and if Dane commanded the fucker to help them find missing or injured paras and never hurt an innocent, he would have to obey as well. Briggs seemed uncomfortable with the entire situation, but once they summoned the bastard, Marcus hadn’t strangled the guy, Dane hadn’t blasted his stone, and Dane got the new directives ordered onto the gargoyle, the whole thing felt like a win.

“I want our tech team on high alert too,” the king was saying. “We’ve gotten too comfortable. We’ve lost three sanctuaries before the Pride, I will not lose this one.”

“Your Majesty, your team will not allow that to happen,” Theron assured him.

“I believe having the gargoyle under compulsion to aid us may end up being the break we’ve needed in locating paras in need,” the captain added.

Theron nodded. “We will prevail. We just saved the prince and three others. We will not stop fighting to get the rest of our people back.”

After a full, empowering breath, Dane stood, drawing Marcus to his feet with him, still holding hands. “Marcus and I will continue to seek any information or clue as well. With Lowry magically compelled to assist us, the masterful hunting skills of the last Magus, and my spiritwalker mate, the Goddess has blessed us.”

“The Goddess truly has granted us every advantage,” the king agreed.

“At least we know what some of the enemy looks like,” Briggs said, glancing at the images the gargoyle had made. “I’ll make copies of these and distribute them to my team. A fucking gorgon? I thought they were extinct.”

Darrius took one drawing with a frown. “They may well be. I don’t relish finding out.”

“What do you suppose he meant that a Fae had spoiled his blood?” Briggs asked him. Heads close as they studied the images, they seemed quite comfortable with each other. “Is that a thing?”

The king, captain, and Theron exchanged glances.

They knew something, but what?

“Apparently it is,” Darrius said sadly.

A knock sounded on the door and Kevin answered it. A moment later, he announced, “Your Majesty, the tech crew has arrived.”

The “tech crew” consisted of Jeremiah’s brother, Mitch—a regular human dating a half-mermaid. Jeremiah explained yesterday that Jasmine not only worked in the ship’s spa, but assisted in meteorological predictions. Apparently, merfolk predicted weather at sea better than Doppler radar.

The shock to his system, realizing so many people he knew were not human, would never grow old.

“Mitch,” the king said. “Come in. We must update you on these new developments. We’ll need you to use your internet thing to help.”

Very briefly and in detailed yet somewhat generic terms, the king explained to Mitch about warlocks in cahoots with humans and other paras threatening the safety of their people, both on the ship and off. The king withheld the detail about a gargoyle getting through their security forcefields, probably not wanting to incite panic among the crew. He wanted Mitch to work with Briggs via his “internet thing” to search for information on Mortimer and his cronies. Meanwhile they would distribute the images among trusted para leaders to keep a look out.

“I will contact other High Order wizards. Since the gargoyle mentioned vampires, we should contact the Conclave as well,” Darrius said.

“I hate those guys,” Briggs muttered.

“The Alpha King is another good place to start,” the captain suggested.

“Excellent idea,” the king agreed. “Fitz has packs everywhere and we’re hosting his birthday in a few months. Maybe he’ll have some clues for us by then.”

“We’ll get these pictures to the Conclave, the Alpha King, and whomever else you want involved, Raoul,” Mitch assured him.

It amused Marcus when Dane, Theron, Kevin, and Jacob bristled at the hubris—as they called it. Raoul insisted everyone on the ship not use his title, but it seemed Fae Lords and the last Magus were completely unable to break with tradition.

“Maybe I can get my hands on some facial recognition software,” Mitch muttered, thinking aloud. “These people have to have walked in front of a camera somewhere.”

“Unless they walk around cloaked,” Briggs added with a “duh” face.

Mitch looked like Briggs just kicked his cat. “Well... it’s worth a shot.”

“It is worth a shot,” the captain said, making Mitch smile. “Buy whatever software you might need. We must use everything at our disposal.”

The king remained all business. “While you’re on your honeymoon, Theron, my lords will visit these other locations. Hopefully, upon your return, we will have more answers.”

“And more rescued paras,” the captain added.

“Marcus and I will attempt to produce more drawings too,” Dane offered. “Now that we have these images, perhaps the spirits will give Marcus a clue as to where some of these bastards are. If you’re feeling up to it, dear?”

Marcus played it cool but was fucking beyond thrilled at the easy manner which Dane called him dear. “Sure.”

“Excellent. So we have a plan,” the king said. “Let’s get this ball rolling. Time is of the essence, people.”

While the photos were collected by Kevin, the captain offered Mitch a pat on the shoulder. “How are things going with Jasmine’s father?”

In the chaos of the last few days, Marcus had all but forgotten Mitch just met his girlfriend’s Mer-father the other day. Seeing as poor Aleek had been banished from his pod for being gay, the twins’ odd behavior around Kaleeb made a lot more sense now.

Mitch squirmed, then he shrugged. “Kaleeb doesn’t like who I am and who I’m not,” he said, gesturing vaguely below his waist. “Not being Mer is just one more thing on his list.”

It had been years into his friendship with Jeremiah before Marcus learned Mitch had been born Michelle. He’d only ever known him as Jeremiah’s brother. Considering how the Mer treated Aleek, it was no surprise they wouldn’t roll out a welcome mat for Mitch.

To Marcus’s surprise, Dane said, “You straddle two worlds, just like Jasmine. If her father cannot see that draws the two of you together, I pity him. Family is not always what it is cracked up to be.”

Mitch offered a sideways smirk. “Thanks.”

Dane squirmed. “I am sorry for treating you disrespectfully. I hope we can move on?”

Marcus didn’t know what he meant, but Mitch sure seemed to. “Yeah, we’re cool.” He tossed Marcus a wink. “I think everything worked out just the way it was supposed to.”

“So it shall for you,” Dane assured him.

Darrius, Briggs, and Jacob left the room with purpose in their gait. Every man on a mission.

“Well,” the king said, his brusque demeanor softer now. “It seems many things have begun today. But for now I must get ready. I have a Magus and his soul mate to marry.”

Theron grinned at his king. “Indeed you do, Your Majesty.”

“You have the gift ready for your Lewis?” he asked. Marcus had a notion that the king was a romantic at heart.

Theron patted his pocket. “I do.”

“Off with you, then. Do not keep your Lewis waiting.” The king made a shooing gesture. “And you too, Kevin. Can’t have the Pride host the wedding of our last Magus without your special talents.”