Page 13 of Against the Veil (Endangered Fae #3)

Chapter Eight

Gathering Storm

T he second morning went much as the first, though this time Lugh fought off his weariness to watch the were-beast change to wolf in the early morning hours.

Though no less disturbing in its sounds, the violence of the evening change was missing.

With more slender limbs, the wolf slipped his restraints during the change and happily curled up beside Lugh to nap.

The last evening of the full moon, again, proceeded much as the second had.

At the moment of change, though, the were-beast hesitated before he began snapping and struggling.

He scented the air with a puzzled whine as if he searched for something.

Lugh held out hope that perhaps the beast was trainable and might come to recognize him as a source of reward rather than threat over time.

The moment of peace was too short, though, and he had to stun Zack again before he could fasten him down.

Holding Zack, touching him, even in this form, was torture, almost as if someone with malicious intent had granted a wish for him.

Yes, you may touch your love, hold him, bring him pleasure, but he will not know you, will only use you to slake his lust, and in the end will not recall your hands upon him or your tender words in his ear.

He allowed himself to lose control more quickly this time, to see if the beast truly did crave his climax. Perhaps it was the waning moon or perhaps it was the scent of his seed that calmed him, but Zack settled into sleep soon after.

Lugh lay beside him, tormented and exhausted. At least his Zack would return in the morning. They would be able to talk then and Lugh would beg his pardon for all he had done.

Toward dawn, a low moan pulled him out of a dazed torpor.

The were-beast pulled hard against the straps, teeth bared.

His eyes rolled and he shifted restlessly before a howl leaped from him.

Thrashing and snapping, the beast began his final change.

Limbs shortened, shoulders broadened, the snout retreated to human features.

Lugh hurried to unbuckle the restraints as they pulled on Zack’s arms and legs. The difference in length would be enough to yank his arms from their sockets.

Finally, Zack lay on his stomach on the mattress, wholly Zack and nothing else. His eyes glazed, he moaned in pain, seemingly unable to move.

“It’s over, my braveheart.” Lugh stroked his back softly. “All will be well.”

“Lugh?” Zack shifted to gather his arms under him.

“Shh, lie still, my dear. You are most likely sore and exhausted.”

“I don’t…” Zack’s voice was raw, as if his vocal cords had been scraped with a file. “What the hell…happened?”

“The change. You have been shifting from were-beast to wolf for three days.”

Zack levered himself up on one elbow, blinking. “I…God…did I hurt anyone?”

“No one. You must rest.”

“Bed…you’re…” Zack sat up with a groan, clutching his head. His eyes roamed over the stained sheets, the restraints at the bed’s four corners, the semen drying on his chest and belly. “What the…fuck? Lugh?”

“There were…” Lugh’s explanation faded in the face of Zack’s growing horror. He swallowed hard. “Zachary, please, let me explain.”

“Explain?” Zack lurched from the bed and fell when his legs wouldn’t hold him. “What in God’s name did you do?”

Lugh rose, realizing too late that he was still stark naked. Dear gods, could it get worse? “The were-beast needed certain things. Hungered for things. It was either slake this need or fight it as it lusted after flesh.”

Zack ran a hand over his back where the product of Lugh’s own climax still lay drying. His expression flew swiftly from confusion to suspicion to horror. “You… Oh, holy shit.”

“Zachary, I was only—”

“You were only what? Taking advantage?” Zack scuttled back when Lugh reached for him.

“It was to keep you safe,” Lugh said miserably, letting his hand fall back to his side. “To keep everyone safe.”

“You couldn’t just chain me up until it was over?” Zack curled up by the wall. “God…oh, my God…”

Lugh knelt out of reach so he wouldn’t be looming. “I hoped to keep you from harm. There was such violence in the beast, such—”

He saw the fist coming before it struck and braced himself so he would not pull away. Zack connected with his jaw with war-hammer force, rocking his head back.

“You bastard! You selfish, fucking bastard!” Zack’s hoarse voice broke and wavered even as he bellowed. “Couldn’t get what you wanted by asking, so you had to take it?”

“I did not think—”

“No, of course you didn’t! There’s no fucking way you could understand!

A two-thousand-year-old being with hundreds, maybe thousands of lovers under his belt, how could you?

” Zack curled around his knees. “Fuck, oh fuck. Please, leave me alone. I don’t want to see you.

I don’t want to hear your voice. Please.

If you ever felt anything for me, just go. ”

“I cannot,” Lugh said as he stared at the carpet. “Diego must let us out. Unless I break the door apart.”

Zack crawled to the door and began pounding on it. “Diego! Diego, open the damn door! Now! Please, please, open the goddamned door!”

The door across the hall slammed open. Bare feet slapped against the hardwood in the hall. “Zack?”

“Diego!” A sob cracked Zack’s shout. “Open it! Now!”

Heavy scrapes sounded on the other side of the door. The edges of the wood glowed white where Diego removed his barrier spell. The door flung wide even as Zack pounded on it.

Diego crouched to catch Zack before he could fall into the hallway. “Easy, easy, there. What’s happened?” He glanced between them, face pale with shock.

“I have done harm here,” Lugh murmured as he rose. He wrapped a towel around his waist, shaking his head. “I did not intend it, but I have. Zachary, I am so sorry.”

“Sorry. He’s sorry,” Zack got out in a choked whisper. “I guess that makes it better.”

Lugh heaved a shuddering breath, the ache in his chest growing to a sharp, agonizing pain.

His heart was breaking. He felt as if he might die from it.

Further words stuck in his throat as Diego took Zack in his arms, rocking his shaking frame gently.

He didn’t quite understand it, but Zack’s anguish permeated the air.

Somehow he had done terrible harm and had lost something infinitely precious.

He stumbled from the room, barely keeping his feet. Down the stairs, through the halls, he finally collapsed in one of the kitchen chairs, staring at the knots and whorls of the table. The meaning of the patterns eluded him, though, as he sank into silent despair.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Zack allowed Diego’s soft voice and gentle hands to propel him toward the bathroom.

A few years before, his unit had been caught in a mountain blizzard.

In howling winds and frigid cold, they’d had to leave the shelter of truck canvas to dig and push the vehicles out.

Every muscle had burned, his limbs so heavy he felt as if he might break through the frozen ground.

He felt something like that now, except nauseous and dizzy on top of it all, and with a terrible sense of a dark chasm opening up under his feet.

“So Finn says that in his experience,” Diego was saying as he filled the tub, “and, frankly, I don’t really want to know where he gets experience with werewolves, but he says he has known them to be depressed after the change.

I hope that’s all this is, hon, and that you’ll feel better after some rest.”

He slid his hands under Zack’s arms to help him up. While Zack wanted to protest that he could get into a damn bathtub on his own, his legs barely held him. Would this happen every month? Did it get better or worse?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as Diego lowered him into the water. The heat eased the ache in his muscles and joints but not the heavy pain in his chest.

“For what?” Diego sat on the tiles that surrounded the sunken tub, one hand still on his arm as if he feared that Zack might decide to slip under the water and drown. “So you planned to have a werewolf attack you and nearly kill you?”

Normally he would have laughed. He wasn’t certain he recalled how. “For…I don’t know. All the trouble. Worry. Strain.”

“We care about you, hon. Can’t help that.”

“Yeah.” Zack turned his head away, afraid he might see pity in Diego’s eyes.

“ Mira , you don’t have to tell me what happened. But I’m here if you need to tell someone.”

“Was it bad? The change?”

Diego laced their fingers together. “I don’t know. I didn’t see it.”

“No one but him?”

“Right, no one but Lugh saw the actual changes.”

“So that stuff he was saying about terrible hungers…he could’ve made it all up?”

“Well, no. I didn’t see it, but I felt it. The were-beast, the madness, that is. And Finn did, too. It felt like…” Diego stopped, chewing on his bottom lip. “That black, hollow emptiness, the ravenous hunger. The wendigo felt something like that.”

“Oh.” Zack clung to his hand as the room tilted. “I don’t feel so good.”

He realized he had grayed out when a cold cloth pressed over his forehead, Diego calling to him from a few hundred miles away.

“Still with me?”

He glanced up at Diego, relieved when he only saw concern in those dark eyes. “I hit him.”

“I figured that much. Your knuckles are split from hitting that hard head.” Diego handed him the soap. “Wash up so we can get you back in bed. You want to tell me why you punched him?”

Zack ran the soap over his arms and torso mechanically, pulling on sore muscles. His eyes followed the ripples from his movements. “He tied me down to the bed and used me like a sex toy.”

The long silence made him wonder if he’d embarrassed the hell out of Diego. Finally, Diego spoke gently, though a hard edge ringed his words. “Was there penetration? Did he actually use you that way?”