Page 9 of Hunted (Love and Revenge #5)

Sadavir

T he training room was underground, sealed by extra layers of warding and built into a bed of ancient stone. I’d seen the place withstand a raging dragon. It was the only place I trusted myself to let out the full force of my frustration.

The lights were dim. Just the way I liked them. For once, no one else was here. I stripped to the waist, bound my hands, and stepped barefoot into the small circle off to one side of the spacious room.

Pausing, I squatted down and traced the lines of the sigil that was carved into the floor, letting a bit of my innate magic trickle into it, the way Sanka had shown me.

It activated additional short-term training wards that did a bunch of safety stuff I hadn’t really paid much attention to at the time.

The circle flared as it activated, then dimmed to a low background hum I could feel through the soles of my feet.

My aura pulsed in time with the perimeter enchantments—low, simmering.

I needed a target, and I honed in on the pillar in the center of the sparring circle.

Harder than a punching bag. Padded, enchanted, built for impact absorption.

I doubted it was load-bearing, since it was inside the sparring ring.

From the myriad of chips and dents in the thing, at the times I’d observed the others at their training, it was mostly used to incorporate an obstacle into a fight.

Pausing for only a moment, I veered over to a low table in the corner and wrapped my hands, more out of habit than any desire to protect myself. Then I returned to the circle.

Jab. Cross. Step. Hook. Turn. Again. Each hit landed with a satisfying thud and a jolt of impact. My body knew this language—movement, force, breath. Pain.

The pillar wasn’t Acacia. Wasn’t the syndicate. Wasn’t the emperor. I would get my chance to pummel them all, one day soon. But right now, the hard target could stand in for all the things I couldn’t physically fight.

Like the hunger and despair eating Josh from the inside out.

He’d been my advisor and guide nearly my whole life. The steady one. Responsible. Calm. He’d kept me grounded all through my younger days, back when my natural power and my arrogance had threatened to make me into something my family would have wept to see.

He used to sing under his breath when he cooked.

I couldn’t hear him, but I could see the way his chest moved, catch his lips moving when he thought I wasn’t watching.

In unguarded moments, he used to tap rhythms on his thigh when he was happy, and wrap himself around me at night like a cat looking for warmth and safety.

Those times were less once we were taken from our home with my people.

But even in the midst of the cruelty and danger of the vampire court, he'd worn softness like armor, and kindness like a battle flag, wherever he could. Now he couldn’t trust his own body, his own mind.

He was mine to protect. And I couldn’t help him.

I threw a punch hard enough to split the outer wrap on my knuckle. My skin tore. Blood bloomed.

I didn’t stop. It would heal quickly enough once I was done, thanks to my strong naga constitution—one more skill of mine that was absolutely no help to Josh.

I was strong, powerful, smart. I was proud of my naga heritage.

And yet, nothing I was could help him. For the first time in my life, I regretted being born a shifter.

In that moment, I wished I had been born a sorcerer. A magic user of some kind. Someone with some hope of breaking Acacia’s hold over Josh and ensuring that nothing like this ever happened to him again.

Pain grounded me. The burn in my lungs gave me something to hold on to. I was royalty. A prince. Born and raised to lead my people. I could handle this. Somehow. I could save the one member of my family who still existed in this broken life of mine. Somehow, I would get Josh through this.

The door creaked open behind me. I didn’t turn. I felt the chilling magic signature before I saw the creeping shadows.

Dusek.

He didn’t announce himself. Just leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, pale eyes catching the low light. I kept hitting the pillar.

When my vision blurred, I stopped. Just enough to fall to my knees, breath ragged, aura fraying. I should feel embarrassed to be seen like this. But I couldn’t find it in me to care.

Dusek floated across the room like a fogbank, and I thought even if I could hear, his movements would be utterly silent. He dropped a towel beside me. I didn’t take it.

He raised one brow as he signed. “Done?”

I sighed. “Not enough.”

“You’ll break something,” his starkly handsome features were stormy, his concern would probably feel threatening to others.

“Something is already broken,” I signed, feeling utterly defeated.

He crouched beside me, not close enough to touch, but not far enough to ignore, his tall, lanky presence looming along with his darkness, just at the edges of my aura.

“You’re bleeding,” he said aloud. I watched his lips move, mesmerized, for some reason. I think my mind had finally reached its breaking point.

I finally registered what he’d said and looked down. Blood dripped from my hand, trailing along the back of my wrist.

“I know,” I signed. It seemed so unimportant.

He reached for the towel and pressed it to my knuckles with a surprisingly gentle touch. I let him. “You’re always like this when he shuts down,” he said, speaking slowly so I could follow him. “Must have been a bad day?”

Dusek never really got involved in the whole Josh situation, other than to argue for Acacia’s death. But I had gotten to know him enough to understand that his distance didn’t mean he didn’t care. He saw more than anyone, always watching from the outskirts.

I didn’t respond to his question. Bad day.

What a fucking understatement. I’d almost let Acacia seduce me using Josh’s body, then refused to fight back when I knew she’d kill me and leave Josh to hate himself for the rest of his life.

Some leader I was. Some protector. No wonder Ruya didn’t want a true mate bond with me.

I couldn’t even protect my one beta. How was I supposed to care for an omega? Or build a court worthy of her?

My thoughts spiraled into an ever-expanding downward swirl of negativity and despair.

Dusek’s long fingers moved, steady and precise, binding the towel around my hand with an efficiency I didn’t expect. For someone so adverse to physical contact, he was sure skilled at bandaging up self-inflicted damage.

“You love him,” he signed when he was done, studying my face with quiet intensity.

I nodded.

“You think he’s still in there, even when the vampire, or the darkness, or whatever it is takes over?”

Another nod. I knew he was, without a doubt.

“But you’re scared one day you won’t be able to reach him.” He spoke like someone with experience.

I closed my eyes.

“ Yes, ” I said aloud. Like today, for example. One day had arrived far sooner than I thought it would. And I wasn’t ready to face this pain.

He didn’t speak for a long time. His aura pressed against mine, tentative. Testing. He reeled it in like a curious puppy testing the end of its leash.

“You haven’t lost him,” he said aloud, once I opened my eyes. “He’s still here. He’s lost himself, maybe. But that’s not a permanent condition, in my experience.”

That... hurt. In a way that felt almost hopeful. And again, it sounded like something he had personal experience with. Had he lost himself and come back from it?

I didn’t know the bubak all that well. But from what little I did know, he had been a prisoner of the syndicate once, before he ended up with Robin and her defiant rebel court. And I knew enough of him to sense that he acted as if he expected people to treat him like a monster.

I exhaled. Looked at him fully for the first time.

Dusek, the bubak. Death mage. Nightmare to his enemies.

Looming, pale... haunting in a way that made most people flinch when they came in contact with his aura.

But his magic didn’t bite at me now. It settled beside mine like the welcome shadow of a tall oak on a hot day.

My alpha nature was strong enough to withstand any lingering fear.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“ You’re bleeding,” he signed back.

“That’s not why,” I signed impatiently . “You’re not a vampire.”

A faint twitch of his lips. “No,” he said aloud. “But it was the first excuse that popped into my head. I panicked.”

We stared at each other.

The last time I’d touched him had been in passing—brief, accidental—but his presence had sparked more than one kind of reaction in me. I had ignored it then, brushed it off as interesting but not important. But now...

I reached out purposefully. Slowly. Rested my fingers lightly on his bony wrist.

He didn’t flinch, the way he sometimes did when the others tried to get near. His aura stilled. Like a predator watching, waiting. I could feel the fear there, waiting to be unleased. But my own alpha nature let me brush it off without much effort.

“For a second there, I let myself think I was all alone with my pain,” I signed. Then, after a brief pause. “You think you’re alone , too, ” I signed. “ But you’re not.”

He stared at his own hands. Then looked up.

“You are a very different man than I thought you’d be, when I first heard Ruya was sending us a strange alpha,” he signed, picking his words carefully.

The gym was silent, save for the quiet thrum of residual magic.

He moved closer, hesitantly, giving me time to withdraw in terror. I didn’t stop him.

He brushed my shoulder with the tips of his fingers, a gesture that, coming from him, seemed as intimate as a kiss. I let him.

Not a promise of anything more. Not yet. Just contact. An experiment. Maybe a bit of comfort.

After a long moment, he stood and offered his hand. I took it and let him pull me to my feet.

“That’s... weird... often,” he mused as he looked own at our still clasped hands, and I lost the ability to see what he was saying well enough to read his lips. Then he lifted his head to meet my eyes again. “You aren’t afraid of me.”

I shrugged. Then I tugged my hand free of his to sign, “Why should I be?”

His lips curled up at one side in wry amusement, and I realized I was rapidly coming to love that little rare half-smile. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, naga. You’d still piss your pants if I approached you in my true form.”

I raised a brow. “Probably. But does it matter? I doubt you fuck in that form, do you?”

That had the intended effect. My joke and my direct flirting made him rear back before he caught himself, his pale skin flushing faintly.

The moment of surprise had his aura swelling outward, sending shivers of fear dancing over my skin. “Careful naga,” he said, his face suddenly void of expression. “The last person who thought it would be a good idea to tempt a boogeyman got more than they could handle.”

His words seemed dismissive, but I could see the real sadness in his eyes. I was willing to bet he was referring to Ruya. I knew my beautiful omega wanted the boogeyman, and she teased him lightly whenever she got the chance, always gently nudging at his impenetrable black walls.

“Maybe,” I signed to him, “You underestimate what others are happy to endure for your sake.”

And wasn’t that just a perfect bit of advice for my own current situation with Josh. Both of us would endure anything if it meant we could be together, or if it was for the other person. Maybe I just needed to remember that and just fucking endure until we could get rid of Acacia once and for all.

And maybe I should heed my own words to Dusek about not being alone, as well.

“Thank you,” I signed, as we headed out of the gym and down the hall to dinner.

Dusek raised one black brow at me. “For what?”

I clapped him on the back, startling him with the contact, though he played it off as if it was nothing. “For being in the right place at the right time.”

He just shook his head at me. “Ruya certainly has strange taste in mates.” He muttered it, probably assuming I couldn’t figure out what he’d said. But I did. And I wholeheartedly agreed.

At least it kept things interesting.