Page 13 of Paradise Bound (Pride of the Caribbean Book 4)

“Hey, don’t ever do that without telling me! My sister might be worried.”

When Marcus yanked his hand free, Dane felt chagrinned. He wasn’t used to thinking of anyone but himself. “Sorry. I can take you back,” Dane tried.

“No, I can text her.” He patted his pockets. “Shit, no phone.”

Dane reached out to the universe and felt for Marcus’s phone. He magicked it into his hand. The screen had a long crack, but it still had some battery life.

“Here, text her.” Dane held it out, uncomfortable with how disappointed seeing his mate perturbed in any way made him. Especially when his own impatience caused it.

Again.

Marcus stared at his phone suspiciously. “How did you do that?”

“Magic. It was lying in the alley where Lowery shot you.”

Marcus’s brows shot up. “Lowery? That’s who shot me?”

Damnation.

He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Yes. I will explain later.” At the mingle of disappointment and annoyance in his mate’s expression, Dane quickly added, “If that’s acceptable?”

Face going neutral, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Just no more surprises, yeah?” He took the phone. “Thanks.”

While Marcus texted an apology to his sister, Dane set his sketchbook on the closest table then retrieved the book on North American lore he’d been reading earlier. The Goddess was often surprising in the way she manipulated things, having Dane reading the very book to explain his mate’s origins.

When he found the entry, he laid it open for Marcus to see.

Sliding his phone into the pocket of his cargo shorts, the move showcasing broad muscles Dane had a hard time ignoring, Marcus came closer and read the page.

“Spiritwalkers?” He shook his head. “That’s just a term made up by Hollywood and video games. It’s not something in Navajo beliefs.”

“Oh, Marcus, indeed they are very real. Just like the stories you were doubtless told as a child, spiritwalkers exist right along with ghouls, trolls, wizards, dragons, unicorns, and mermaids.” Dane gave him a wink. “Just where do you think fairy tales came from?”

Marcus made a sign of acquiescence.

“Most native human tribes throughout the realm have always been connected to the Goddess’s magic. They had powerful witches, warlocks, druids, and wizards in their tribes, though they did not use such names. They also had shifters—hawks, mustangs, buffalo, eagles, wolves, mountain lions, bears. Possibly more. But between the Great War, tribal conflicts, and westward expansion on the continent, many paras were killed. Some Native American tribes were blessed with spiritwalkers, humans gifted with visions from the dead. I should have thought of this earlier.” Dane waved his hand impatiently at himself. “But with everything happening, and me not realizing you were part Navajo, it never occurred to me. See here.” He pointed to a paragraph. “Here it mentions skin walking. Your grandfather and father were a little misguided in their plans that evening, however.”

“Big surprise.”

Considering his own troubled relationship with his family, he didn’t question Marcus’s obvious contempt for his father, so he continued.

“Skin walking is a twisted dark magic that goes against the Goddess’s will. If She did not gift you with power, you should not seek it by unnatural means. Medicine men came in many forms. Earth wizards who stem from light magic, dark warlocks, shifters, and other paras. Some were human oracles called spiritwalkers, like in your family. Skin walking is different. It an ancient, questionable rite where a medicine man tries to bind their soul with an animal spirit to commune with the dead. Such a ritual would be unnecessary for an actual spiritwalker, and unholy for anyone else. But perhaps your family didn’t understand that. So much of legend has been lost since the Great War.”

“The one your first king started,” he clarified.

Dane flinched. “Yes, the same. But maybe you shouldn’t mention you know of King Vandor’s treachery. It is really just a well-founded court rumor very few alive even remember.”

“Sure, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good, because if the rumor began again, it would cause a lot of turmoil. His Majesty is nothing like his father. He is benevolent and cares for all of us under his care. He doesn’t deserve to have all of his good work besmirched by an asshole father.”

Marcus conceded with an empathetic nod.

Dane returned to the book. “It says here many weak paras and humans have used the practice of skin walking in an attempt to become shifters.” He scoffed. “That’s not how it works either. Humans are so misguided when it comes to our world. You’re born a shifter or you are not. Twisted dark magic though it might be, it seems the skin walking did transform people into the animal sometimes, but very briefly. There was plenty of communing with the dead and visions given by the animals as well. Just like your father experienced.”

“So we’re believing him?” Marcus didn’t hide his irritation.

Dane shrugged. “It explains everything really. Spiritwalkers are humans used by the dead to pass information from beyond the veil. Apparently, your father doesn’t have a good connection to the spirit world, so he hoped skin walking would refine his skills. He had a vision, obviously, but whether or not he hears the wolf now is highly unlikely.”

“You figured all that out in one half-assed conversation?”

Marcus looked doubtful so Dane encouraged him to read the description in the book. “This book was written by a powerful air wizard from the Pueblo tribe. He is no fool or charlatan. His research is universally renowned as indisputable among magickind. Darrius has every book he’s ever written and holds them in the highest regard.”

Marcus made another doubtful face as he picked up the book and read. After he finished the first few paragraphs, the tension in his shoulders lessened, perhaps as acceptance crept in. Eventually he said, “So the men in my family are spiritwalkers. Conduits for the dead to speak to the living.”

“Exactly,” Dane said, unable to hide his grin. “They can be found in many cultures but are quite rare. The spirits must be inspiring you what to draw. Twice, that we know of, they helped you draw paras who were or had been in peril, which is quite promising. They might’ve been trying to show you the magical world while you drew passengers on the Pride, as well. And they seemed to point you towards me. Do you see, Marcus? They are speaking to you through your gift of art. You just need to learn how to listen.”

Marcus stayed silent for a moment, then he wore a wry smile. “I guess that’s better than screaming at me like they do to my father.”

“You are not close with him.”

“I’ve been too close with his fists over the years, but these days I chose to stay far away from him. He’s bipolar and schizophrenic, and he self-medicates with booze and drugs.”

Another puzzle answered. “No doubt the defects in his human brain do not allow him to commune effectively with the spirit world.”

Again, Marcus studied him for a long time. “If you say so.”

“This is quite wonderful.” Dane enthused, picking up the book and studying the drawing of a native man in a dream state with spirits all around him. “You are a spiritwalker. You’re not a mere human.”

Marcus looked taken aback by that comment, and Dane instantly regretted allowing his enthusiasm to make him speak without thinking.

Again.

Dane scrambled for something to say to not offend Marcus but came up blank.

I suck at being a mate!

He hadn’t wanted this soul bond, but he’d promised the unicorn he would make it work. She claimed the Goddess had plans for them. Could this be a clue to those plans?

“I’m glad to stop disappointing,” his astute mate snarked, his face a combination of irritation and hurt. “I’d ask you what I ever did to you to create such hostility between us, but I guess the better question is what did humans do to you?”

His throat tightened, and because he could not lie to his mate, he said nothing while he gathered his thoughts. He had not spoken a word of the torture he’d experienced over the last several decades. The last time he’d been free was in the 1950s. He still felt like a clueless idiot when it came to computers, technology, and modern beliefs. At least Netflix taught Dane no one said things like jeepers, daddy-o, or cruisin’ for a bruisin’—which Dane was probably doing with his mate if he didn’t watch it.

Sighing, Dane put his back to Marcus and began straightening the spines of the books on the cart which were already in alphabetical order and needed no straightening. He needed something to keep his hands busy.Pleased his mate had patience to wait for him to answer and did not bombard him with questions allowed Dane to breathe a little easier.

“Trust your heart,” the unicorn whispered.

He flinched, looking around, unsure if the voice was real or in his imagination.

He took a steadying breath.

“I was in Detroit, Michigan when it happened,” Dane finally said. “It was 1956 and every weekend, all the cool guys—or cool cats as we called them—would cruise and drag on Woodward Avenue in their machines. Uh, I mean their hot rods.”

“Like in American Graffiti?”

“Yes, just like the movie,” Dane said. He’d stumbled upon the film a few weeks ago and while it had brought back good memories, it had revived some awful ones he longed to forget. “It was similar but there was sex, drugs, and alcohol, that sort of thing too. I met this good-looking guy named Joey. It is not difficult for a Fae to find lovers. Especially human ones. They tend to fall under the spell of our beauty.”

Marcus chuckled. “I can relate.”

“Yes, but that’s because you are my mate,” Dane corrected, feeling more comfortable at the soft sound of Marcus’s voice. “But Joey was a warlock, albeit a weak one, so it was really nice I could be myself. We were lovers for a little while. And one night after cruising, he invited me to a party with some hipsters he knew. I had no reason not to go. I am Fae. Even unmated, as a royal, I was far more powerful than a mere warlock. That’s why I never saw it coming. When I walked into the party, music played but no one was there. There were sigils painted on every surface, floor, ceiling, the walls. Painted in Fae, gnome, witch, warlock, and demon blood. They were the same type of sigils painted in the room in Jamaica where you were the bait in a trap for me. A Fae trap.”

Marcus did not question him, but listened intently, warm brown eyes intelligent and sympathetic.

Dane took another shaky breath. “I was no match for the combination of light, dark, and neutral forces twisted into evil. The perfect trinity of power, strengthened by blood magic. Blood contains iron as well, which makes it the perfect weapon against a Fae. Joey said nothing to me as I screamed out his name. He shut the door and left. I was a prisoner.”

“I’m sorry he betrayed you,” Marcus offered.

Dane stared at him, not wanting to direct the anger still inside him onto Marcus. “It was so much worse than the betrayal of a lover. I remember it all so clearly. The music was still playing. “Ain’t that a Shame,” by Fats Domino, ironically enough. I will never forget that song.”

Lowery used to play it for hours on a loop, just to torment Dane.

He pushed the memory away and continued, “I screamed for Joey to come back, but I was alone, and growing weaker by the second. Then the masked warlocks came in. They’d waited until the sigils had weakened my magic enough so they could knock me out with a club to the head.” Marcus flinched but Dane stoically pushed on. “When I awakened, I was in a cell with enchanted iron manacles on my neck, wrists, and ankles. To put it in layman’s terms, iron is kryptonite to the Fae. The collar around my neck was spelled with my own blood. I could not feel my magic. I was terrified.” Dane turned earnest, violet eyes upon him. “You see, Fae are magic, not mere magic users like other paras. To be separated from my very essence, my soul was the worst torture. That cell would be my home until I escaped less than one year ago.”

“Oh Dane.” Marcus reached out, gently caressing his arm.

Dane closed his eyes and fought the swell of tears and the desperate need to feel Marcus’s arms around him, not as passion from incubus driven lust, but from the warm comfort of a mate he’d dreamed of his entire existence. Someone to hold him close, support him and love him.

Somewhere he was safe.

He fought down the urge, needing to get the story out while the words were flowing. “There was a gargoyle in a cell next to me named Lowrey. He too was a prisoner. Daily they cast spells and experimented on us. I never left my cell, but they would take Lowery away for hours at a time. He would return after being tortured in ways you cannot imagine, bleeding, and beaten, refusing to speak of what they did.

“We became friends, victims together. I was a fool. Lowery had been a spy the whole time. They were using him to get information from me. Secrets to weaken me further. Somewhere along the way, things changed and Lowery was no longer in prison with me. He became my jailer, torturing me and draining my blood.”

“What did he do with your blood?” Marcus questioned, voice roughened with emotion.

“I am unsure if Lowery did anything with it. Warlocks are dark magic users, but not all are evil. Just like not all light casters are good. But some evil warlocks use blood magic in their potions and spellcasting. Such defiance against the order of things, against the Goddess Herself, is what twists a soul to evil.”

When Marcus scrunched his face in confusion, Dane explained further, “Elemental wizards are born with their element inside them—earth, air, fire, or water. They are connected to their magic on a cellular level and can either use an external source of their element to draw their power from or that which is inside them, though the latter comes at a cost. You’ve met Adam? He is greying because he draws on his inner power rather than his element.”

“Why does he do that?”

“Well, because he can’t properly access his element, but that is a long story. For the sake of this one, know that witches and warlocks are not born of a specific element. They are born of mostly human lineage with an ability to cast. However, they rely on potions, crystals, talismans, and other things found in nature because they have no inner source of magic. Blood is a magic found in nature, as it is the soul of an individual. Many witches and warlocks use animal blood in their spells, but to use the blood of a human or a para? That is evil magic indeed. To use blood in such a way corrupts the caster’s soul and their magic. The more power the blood contains, the more corrupted the magic becomes. The humans and warlocks who held me captive used my blood for many evil purposes, though in every way I do not know.” Dane shuddered.

Marcus caressed his arm, the comfort welcome but scary too.

“They also had human cohorts who consumed para blood,” Dane hastily continued. Now that he’d started his tale, it was imperative he get it all out. “A human who drinks Fae blood can imbibe their fragile bodies with our magic to become almost immortal. There are humans who have walked this earth as long as me, if not longer. They are men and women of immeasurable influence among your kind, but they do not work alone. Paras work with them, for what end game I cannot begin to guess. But a human can gain endless life as long as they continue to consume our blood.”

Dane had seen the process, both awe-inspiring and horrific, as his own essence gave the mostly-dead life. He almost mentioned the tattoo he’d removed from Marcus, the grisly reminder of his past horrors. But the subject was a sore one with his mate, and he wanted to keep them on track, not disrupt their tentative truce.

“How did you escape?” Marcus questioned.

Grateful his mate did not ask what sort of torture he’d been put under, Dane didn’t think he could voice the beatings, the blood draining, the slicing, the painful spells and toxic potions, the starvation.He shook his head. “No. Perhaps another day. This is already more than I intended to share.”

Marcus pursed his lips, but the understanding in his rich brown eyes soothed Dane’s soul. He’d felt a similar peace only in the unicorn realm. “When I was able to teleport from my cell, I went to the place you drew with the indigo sand and the pink moons. Then I saw her. The unicorn. She healed me and returned me to this realm. She removed my memory of her that time. The king found me on a beach and brought me here. The rest you know.”

A long silence fell between them, until Marcus finally whispered, “After what they did to you, I can understand why you didn’t want to bind your soul to a human.”

Awash with relief and gratitude his mate understood his reservations, Dane offered, “I would have been equally upset had the Goddess bound me to a warlock or a gargoyle, if that makes a difference.”

Marcus offered a sad smile. “It kinda does.”

That was something, and Dane would take it.

“But what do we do now that we’re bound?” Marcus questioned.

“I don’t know,” Dane whispered. “But our bond is for eternity.”

“You sure about that?”

“Does this bother you?”

Marcus shook his head, once more seeming taken aback by yet another huge life-changing piece of information. Eventually, he said, “No, I don’t think so.”

Shocked a bit by his boldness, he said, “Then maybe we continue with our plan to become good friends. Perhaps more?”

He offered a faint chuckle. “When I first saw you, I was convinced you were the man I would marry. My friends thought I was crazy. Turns out, I guess I wasn’t. Maybe the spirits were telling me?”

The same way the unicorn told Dane to work things out with his mate?

Perhaps.

Though unsettled by how giddy he felt at hearing Marcus say such things, Dane asked, “So... this makes you happy?”

“I think so,” Marcus replied. “I’ve enjoyed all my time with you. Well?” He gestured to his bare forearm. “But before that, it was pretty enjoyable.”

Ignoring the conflicting surge of arousal at his mate’s sultry expression coupled with his irritation about those damn tattoos, Dane suggested, “Perhaps breakfast tomorrow? Before we meet with His Majesty and Magus Theron.”

“Why do we have to meet with Theron and your king?”

“His Majesty will need to be informed of your abilities. The Magus has been hunting for any missing people, and you seem to be drawing those in need. If you can help, they might be able to tell us how.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense, um... I guess. And yeah, sure, breakfast would be great.” Marcus squirmed awkwardly. “Is it okay if I talk to my friends about us?”

“They know what I am, and you won’t be able to deny our blood bind from the Magus, the merfolk, or the incubus.”

“It’s weird to hear you not use their names.”

“Those not close to another para often refer to them by their race. It is much like your kind says sir, or ma’am.”

“Oh okay.” Marcus looked around the library. “So how do I get back to my cabin then? I’ve never been in this library before. What deck are we on?”

Disappointment filled Dane at the prospect of spending the night apart. It was stupid because he hadn’t even wanted this soul bond. While they’d broken in their physical union earlier, thanks to the incubus, the passion hadn’t been his own.

Would he ever share such a gift with Marcus?

Quickly pushing away his swirling emotions—this isn’t one of Adam’s romance novels!—Dane offered Marcus a faint smile. “I would have to teleport you. With your permission, of course.”

“Thank you, but isn’t there a door?”

Dane shook his head. “We’re in a different magical realm that has access to the Pride through an open portal. Humans cannot come here or leave without the assistance of a fairy or Darrius. I can walk you back, but teleporting is much easier if you are in a hurry.”

“I’m not in a hurry,” Marcus assured him and Dane couldn’t deny his pleasure. “And I thought we decided, I’m not really a human.”

“Oh, but you are,” Dane disagreed. “Unlike a witch or warlock who are sometimes born of humans, you are 100% human. You just happened to be a conduit from this realm to the spirit world. That is the unchecked essence I felt around your very human soul. That rawness must be the channel with which they communicate.”

Marcus tipped his head and Dane wanted to run his fingers through all that hard crispy gel in his hair and make it soft so he could grab hold of it while he shoved his cock deep into his throat...

Goddess, the things this man does to me!

“Guess that’s less of a disappointment, huh?” Marcus said. “Than me just being a mere human.”

“I am not disappointed,” he assured his mate and the words could not be a lie. “Perhaps we can put all of that behind us and simply move forward?”

“Okay,” Marcus said, his hand fidgeting nervously against his large thigh.

“Would you like me to teleport you to your cabin now?”

Marcus nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Here.” Dane snatched up Marcus’s sketchbook, handing it to him. “We will need to show your drawings to His Majesty.”

He took it. “Yeah, okay.”

Though Dane longed to accompany him, he sent a small bit of magic toward his mate and returned him to his cabin. Once alone in the library, he plopped heavily into a chair and let his head fall into his hands. He shook it in frustration.

Just what would happen now?

Not having an answer, Dane teleported himself to his own cabin.

“Dane?”

The voice in the darkness startled him, and instantly his hands glowed white. But a millisecond later he drew back his power, pleased it worked so instinctively and so smoothly.

He could definitely get used to that.

“Where have you been?” Adam demanded. “I was worried.” A moment later, the fireplace whooshed to life and the small cabin glowed with golden light. Adam sat up in his bed, salt-and-pepper hair askew.

“My apologies.” Dane moved toward his own bed, wanting nothing but to teleport himself to wherever his mate now slept. The sensation had been there since their first meeting, but now the intensity of the need almost stole his breath, aching and pulling tight on his heart.

“Wait... there’s something different—ohmigod! You completed your soul bond with Marcus!”

Dane plopped on his bed, the mattress bouncing a bit. He rubbed his chest, an ache settling in just behind his heart, the tether linking him to Marcus strained by the separation. “Yes, I did.”

Adam threw back his covers to face him, the cotton pajamas on one leg rucked up to expose his calf. “How did that happen? I mean, congratulations, but wow. I didn’t think you wanted... just wow.”

Dane let out a rueful sniff. “I was given little choice if we were both to live. Now I fear I forced Marcus into something he had no choice in and he will only grow to resent me.”

Admitting that aloud made the tether behind his heart yank painfully.

“There is so much to unpack in that statement, but first I’m gonna remind you of one thing. Marcus has been looking for you since the moment you met. He’s crazy about you.”

“Yes, but I made him immortal and his twin is not. They are very close, Adam. You should see them together. My aversion to our soul bond almost cost him his life. He was dying right before my eyes. And our bond was completed out of desperation. Not only did I take away his choice, but he will have no memory of our union. Which I suppose might be for the best, considering he was bleeding to death. Thank the Goddess the unicorn was able to heal him. But then stupid Nathan had to go and have sex again so I practically raped Marcus. He said he enjoyed it, but seriously, Adam. What in the Goddess’s name is wrong with me?”

Dane had been keeping it together since their bonding—well, except for that whole incubus magic incident—but none if this was going the way it was supposed to. And once he began venting, it seemed he couldn’t stop. “When I learned that he’s a spiritwalker, I was so much happier because he isn’t just a human. But he’s still the same man I rejected, even if he is a conduit for the dead. He’s still completely human. And he knows I’m relieved he’s got this power, and I think it hurt his feelings I didn’t like him for just him. I keep fucking it all up! What am I supposed to do?”

Adam, naturally—and perhaps prepped by years of reading romance novels and practicing the Zen of yoga—had the perfect thing to say. “The fact that you are upset and worried you hurt him is a good start toward fixing whatever’s wrong. But, um? Could you, like, maybe explain everything else? Like why Marcus was bleeding to death? Or how he’s a conduit to the dead? And uh... did you say unicorn?”

Dane let out a chuckle, grateful to have found a friend aboard the Pride. Scooting back on his bed, Dane sat cross-legged.

Adam was in for a long tale.