Silver-Steel Page 17

  “I didn’t. You did. I just nudged you in the right direction.” So Deacon was aware enough to recognize they hovered in a liminal world, somewhere between waking and sleeping. “Deep relaxation should give you some relief from the fatigue you suffer, though it’s not as beneficial as real sleep.”

  “Can you do this for the others?”

  “I can try. You appear to be in better condition mentally.”

  Deacon looked at him, clearly agonized. “I’ve tried to help them, but I’m blocked. I’m their dominant and can’t do anything to support them!”

  Dylan settled in a shaded spot and sat with his legs crossed. “Deacon, where’s your alpha? And what’s happened to your pack?”

  Deacon’s wonder switched to suspicion. “I can’t…I can’t say.”

  “Try. You might find yourself freed in this realm.” Because here, Dylan ruled. He felt a venomous presence pressing in but easily kept it at bay.

  “If I speak, he’ll know. And he’ll punish us.” That was very likely. Dylan thought of the geas that controlled his behavior, and shivered.

  “You have a conundrum, then. I’m just a visitor to the pack, doing this as a favor. I can walk away and let them deal with you and your friends. Or I can try and get to the root of your problem so they can help you. No one wants to see your lives wasted. But I’m not in the best health myself; I’m not particularly interested in wasting my energy over a rabid pack.”

  “We aren’t… You make it sound as though we’re diseased!”

  “You are. It might be organic; it might be magical. Whatever the case, your minds are out of control. Your pack attacked two wolves in their own territory. You attacked to kill and injured a younger, weaker wolf. Now that you’re inside the town, you are nearly insane. You terrified a female the other day. Somehow I don’t think this is who you are.”

  Deacon stared at him in horror. “I remember…” He broke away and paced. “What have they done to us?”

  “Who?”

  The wolf looked at him in despair. “Our alpha. He…took a lover. After that, things changed. Slowly. It almost seems like the memory is…unreal. Members were punished for small infractions. Penalties were harsh. I wasn’t allowed to treat the injured.”

  “You’re a healer?”

  Deacon nodded. He was a huge male, a powerful personality. If there was another who dominated him, what was that alpha like?

  “A healer and a physician. I work…worked in a hospital ER until they made me stop.”

  “Who made you stop, Deacon?”

  He was distraught. “The alpha. He drew us all in from our jobs, our occupations. Those who were harder to control moved in…living in tents and trailers on the alpha’s property. We were watched all the time.”

  “Do you think the alpha’s lover influenced him?”

  Deacon frowned, trying to form words. After a moment he shook his head. “I cannot speak of him. Her.” Now he appeared bewildered. “I don’t remember… Can’t picture who it was!”

  Magic, then. Not like his geas, but powerful.

  “A witch, perhaps?”

  The wolf shook his head again.

  “Not a fae. Too powerful and sustained for vampiric glamour. Demonic, then.”

  The flare of fear in his expression answered Dylan’s question.

  “Since you’ve entered Arcada, you’ve been very distressed. Is it because you cannot fulfill your orders?”

  Deacon dropped to the forest floor and wrapped his arms around himself. “Orders? Did we have orders?” He blinked in confusion. And then he stared at Dylan in shock and alarm. “Eliminate the dominants. Force our way in. But…” He stared hard at the damp forest floor. “Why can I speak of some things and not others? How long has it been?”

  Dylan told him the date, and Deacon was stunned.

  “My last memory is from over a year ago. We’ve lost so much time.” He stood, then swayed slightly. “I need to leave this place.” He didn’t mean the dream; he meant Arcada. “I have to go back, try to rescue our alpha. He’s not a bad man.”

  “Deacon. You cannot leave Arcada.”

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  Dylan also rose, then walked slowly to face Deacon. “While you are inside the town, you are buffered from the influence of the demon who has taken over your pack. As soon as you leave the city limits, you’ll fall to him again.”

  “No.” He pushed a hand through his unkempt brown hair. “I know now. I’m strong. I can overcome this now that I know.”

  Dane and Lukas would not allow him to leave. Deacon’s problem juxtaposed neatly with his own. He wanted to stay but would soon face the reality that he’d secure his prey and leave—forever. Could he face down a demon? His geas would protect him from the magic of the creature. Yet if he succeeded in capturing this final prey, he’d be free of the geas.

  In all the centuries of his captivity, he’d never believed there could be a benefit to the ancient spell. By keeping his will wrapped up tightly with his master’s wishes, he’d been immune to the wiles of other malevolent creatures. If he’d known about this demon six months ago, he could have helped this unfortunate pack.

  But would he have bothered? It wasn’t until he’d met Travis that his dormant compassion returned to the fore.

  “Tell me, Deacon, what is the purpose of the demon? What does it want?”

  “Power. This location. It eliminates the strongest and assimilates everything in its way.” Deacon’s eyes went large. “Why did I know that?”

  “Because it’s not forcing you to remain silent. As long as you remain in the city limits, the demon’s influence over you is lessened.” He paused. “When you awaken, you can and you will talk to Dane and Lukas about this.”

  “Will she come to me again?” His mood had changed rapidly.

  “Who?” Melody, of course. But Deacon needed to say the words.

  “I need her.” His dark gaze burned; molten gold swirled in his eyes. He was very close to shifting right here in this fragile dream world. “The black-haired woman.”

  “She’s afraid of you, Deacon.” He had no obligation to Melody Feris, but he did have a vested interest in Travis. “She’s not all wolf.” He wasn’t sure how the wolves handled mating or what the trigger was, but somehow he didn’t think anyone would agree to this particular pairing. Most especially Travis.

  Deacon was devastated. “She…fears me.” He gazed down at the forest floor. “She doesn’t seem part human. And if she is, I don’t care!” His defiance returned. “When I am well, she won’t be afraid anymore. But I need her.”

  That might or might not be the case, but Dylan wasn’t getting through to the shifter. “Deacon,” he said gently, “you frighten her. You would frighten any female right now. You don’t need to put that burden on her. You don’t need her to recover. You need to find the strength within and help yourself. Then perhaps she’ll be willing to talk to you.”

  “But you must understand… She’s the one.”

  “That may be true for you, but what if you aren’t the one for her? You won’t know unless you meet her as a man, not a ravening beast.”

  “Oh dear God… That’s what she thinks of me…” He turned abruptly, and the dream began to shimmer, to fade. He was rising from the trance. With a sigh Dylan stepped out of the dream and opened his eyes in time to see the huge shifter surge from his chair. He clasped and then let go of the silver-plated bars.

  That was good—he was aware of the pain.

  “Did that just happen?”

  Dylan stood, then carefully stepped away from the cell to sit on the edge of the cot. He hadn’t found anything that would help the stricken shifter, but he could possibly put the others into a brief hypnotic trance. If for no other reason, they’d gain some rest. The more he thought of the situation, the more he wondered if they were developing psychosis from sleep deprivation rather than the demon’s magic.

  Deacon paced the short range of his cell. He paused, looked at Dylan,
and then sat again, much calmer. “I can control myself.”

  “You can. I’ll come back later and help you rest again.”

  “Can you help the others? Please?” He started to grip the bars again but pulled away. “Please?”

  “I’ll try. That’s all I can do, Deacon.”

  Dylan’s mind whirled. He needed to stay out of his own room. The steel in the walls inhibited him just as much as the shackle on his leg had. The gremlin had been smart that way. All they had to do was line the door in steel and lock it from the outside. He would be unable to leave, physically or spiritually. And the only way to stay out of his room was to stay with the rogues.

  Travis would be back soon and his mother with him. The thought of Travis aroused him; the thought of the medicine they’d bring made his ankle throb. Perhaps with treatment he’d improve, grow stronger. Perhaps he could actually help these men. Dylan knocked on the door and turned to look at Deacon one more time.

  “I’ll try, Deacon. Tonight.”

  Chapter 14

  Dylan sat cross-legged on the bed, idly rubbing his ankle. Melody had slopped a paste on his reddened skin and wrapped it up in gauze and that sticky bandage stuff the athletes had used when Travis had attended high school. He was shirtless; she’d tended to the pink scar on his side as well.

  The ointment smelled odd, a combination of salve and herbs. Dylan ran his finger over the scar and smelled the oily stuff.

  “She knows what she’s doing. If I can get away from the steel in this room, I’ll heal up quickly.”

  Travis crossed to the bed and sat down at the foot. He felt shy, a little uncomfortable. Glancing around the room, he saw no sign of iron.

  “It’s in the walls. The other rooms have silver in the walls. I’m sure there’s a vampire-proof room around here somewhere.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Most of the downstairs rooms are used as spare bedrooms. No one else would be bothered by iron. Not unless they’re fae.”

  “Does this room bother you at all, Travis?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. The silver rooms are okay too as long as I don’t touch the walls directly.” Travis rolled over onto his belly and gazed up at Dylan. His long, lean body was a feast for the eyes. “You’re really fair. Do you sunburn?”

  “No. Even when my hair…” Dylan broke off, looking surprised. “I’d forgotten. I mean, I don’t think of it often.”

  “What? That you used to have red hair?”

  Dylan sat up straighter. “How did you know that?”

  “I don’t know. I just do.” Travis nibbled his lip, savoring the sting of the spot Dylan had nipped him. “Maybe from a dream?”

  “Maybe.” The fae didn’t look convinced. For a moment he was quiet, thoughtful. He then moved till he lay on the bed near Travis, their faces just inches away from each other. “Your father and brother want me to help with the rogues. I managed to communicate with Deacon today.”

  “Did he tell you what’s happening to them?” They dropped their voices to whispers, not out of a need to be secretive, but the intimacy of their position seemed to require it.

  “Some. And I was able to put him in a slight trance. He got bit of a reprieve and came out of it a little more sane. He asked me to try with the others.”

  “When?” They were so close, their lips brushed as they spoke.

  “Tonight. I’ve rested, and your mother is finished with my ankle. I’ll spend most of the night with them.” Dylan gently ran his finger through one of Travis’s curls. “You’re quiet tonight.”

  “I’ve been talking to my mother. And thinking.” And for Travis, thinking wasn’t always a good thing. It tended to land him in trouble. “She found out some stuff. It wasn’t pleasant.”

  “About us?” Dylan’s eyes were dark green tonight, like the leaves of trees against the twilight sky.

  “No, she’s actually good with us. She likes you.” He felt the whisper of a kiss and shivered. “She knows more about me than I realized. Like how scared I am to leave town.”

  “You are a magnet for trouble.” Dylan’s lips curled into a smile. He brushed Travis’s cheeks, his fingertips rasping over Travis’s light whiskers. “You don’t have much of a beard for a shifter.”

  “Bane of my existence.”

  “Would you move up to the pillow?”

  Travis changed position; then he and Dylan lay side by side, their faces close again. He pushed a strand of silvery hair back from the fae’s forehead. “So it was red?”

  “Very dark. A family trait. My children…” His gaze went distant, as though he was no longer with Travis.

  “Your children had hair the same color?”

  Tears shimmered in Dylan’s eyes and then faded as though they’d never been there. “Yes, they did.”

  For a few minutes they just lay there, breathing. Travis wanted to rub his chest; it hurt so badly. Instead he laid a palm flat over Dylan’s heart. “Will you tell me about it? Just what you can if it’s too painful.”

  Dylan covered his hand and squeezed it lightly.

  “Their mother was human. A lovely young woman from a village near my forest. We were very young, and I brought her home. My forest was like Arcada: once inside, the outer world almost ceased to exist. Inside the Homewood, humans lived extended lives. We had great happiness for many, many years. We had children. The entire village flourished.” He paused and bit his lip. “Children are rare among the fae, so they were cherished by all. But in time our town was infiltrated. He was fae, but not like us. His name was Ulric, and his intentions were evil. I accepted the collar in order to keep my children safe.”

  “Their mother?”

  “Dead. She was his object lesson, used to convince me to submit. He killed many…randomly. He locked me away for many years. I lived under the ground, trapped in the darkness. I learned to cope, and in time he released me. My mind had changed. I’d grown older if not wiser. My very appearance was altered. Foolishly I thought he’d freed me, but I soon discovered that the geas we’d sworn kept me on a leash.”

  “Geas?”

  “It’s a contract, bound and sealed by magic. I am unable to deny his control over me.” He looked away, and Travis felt the world melt from under his feet. The geas was still alive and in place. He gently clasped Dylan’s chin and turned him to meet his gaze. Dylan’s eyes were bright with pain.

  “I cannot stay in Arcada, Travis. Your family is right; I bring danger. Until the geas ends, Ulric has reach anywhere I go.”

  “Even here? In Arcada? The town always protects the people who live here.”

  “But I don’t live here. When I leave, there will be no return for me.”

  “Then don’t leave!”

  “Ulric tricked his way into the Homewood. He would find a way in here.”

  Dylan smiled sadly. They were beginning to argue in circles. He pulled Travis close and ended his arguments with a kiss. He was gentle, exploring, tasting, and showing another side of his nature. Travis pressed closer to him, then hooked a leg up over the fae’s hip, drawing their groins close. But the kiss didn’t end. Lips caressed, and they whispered words that meant nothing—and everything. Travis broke away finally and kissed Dylan’s throat, his jaw, then nuzzled his ear.

  “Why do you want me, Dylan? You can have anyone. I’m no one compared to you. What can you possibly want from me?” He didn’t look at the older man as he spoke, instead resting his forehead against Dylan’s shoulder.

  “Why would you think you have nothing to offer?” He ran his fingers through Travis’s thick curls, holding him close. “You are bright and brilliant, Travis. You are shockingly beautiful, but you know that already.”

  Travis laughed bitterly. “It always comes back to that.”

  “I’ve lived far too long to be easily enthralled by mere beauty. Remember, many of my people hide their true appearance. Like your Pim and Kell, the fae might be radiant and gleaming under their mundane appearance. Or they might be gnarled and ugly, like b
rownies and gremlins often are.” He kissed the crown of Travis’s head. “You resonated with me immediately, from the moment you walked in the door. It was as though our meeting was fated. I felt I knew you.”

  “I thought you were pretty hot—for an old guy.”

  Dylan chuckled, gripped Travis’s hair, and pulled his head up to make eye contact. “You are such a brat.”

  Travis grinned, a little breathless at the manhandling. No one had ever been rough with him in bed. No one ever had the nerve—or the strength. Dylan kept up the pressure until Travis tilted his head back and exposed his throat. The fae lowered his head, then nipped, bit, and sucked his way down Travis’s neck till he reached the high collar of the T-shirt. With a jerk he tore it, baring Travis’s chest and belly.

  “Oh fuck,” Travis whispered hoarsely. Hot. Just hot.

  “I wanted to be gentle, little wolf, but you light a fire inside me I cannot tame.” He bit down hard on Travis’s nipple, causing heat to shoot down his body, straight to his cock.

  “Unhhh…” His back arched, and he pedaled his heels into the bedding.

  “Quiet. And remain still.” Another sharp nip, and Travis fought his reaction, his chest heaving. “Very good.” A warm, wet tongue soothed the pain, further arousing him.

  “Oh…Jesus fucking Christ…” He clawed at the bedding, right on the verge of coming, and they’d barely started.

  “You are very profane.”

  “‘Oh my goodness’ just doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily.” Dylan trailed his hair over Travis’s belly, causing him to whine and twist. A sharp slap to his thigh calmed him.

  “Settle, Travis.”

  “Or what?”

  Dylan rose to his knees and looked down at Travis. “Or I get serious.” He was a magnificent sight, towering above Travis like that. His hair tumbled around his shoulders; his belly was taut and muscled. Hunger radiated from his very essence. He thumbed Travis’s nipple gently, sending him into another writhing fit of need.

  “Stay there.” He deftly unbuckled Travis’s belt, and like a trained dog, his cock strained toward the fae’s touch. It was disappointed, though; Dylan slid the narrow leather belt from the loops of his jeans, then quickly removed it. He doubled the length of the leather and gave it a sharp jerk, snapping the two lengths together with a loud crack.