Disloyal Souls: Immortal Brotherhood (Edge Book 8) Page 6

  Gwinn’s attention moved to the girl as her brow drew together and an aching moan left her lips.

  Creator help us.

  Chapter Four

  King paced ferociously at Dagen’s bedside. Scarce things could stir his steady mind, but this had rocked him to his core. There were few he had known longer than Dagen. Even less he loved as deeply. Dagen was the reason King was alive. You can’t repay a debt that big, it’s just impossible.

  When you’re ripped from your mortal life, and shackled by a dark god your will and humanity is stripped. You see no end and no beginning. You understand quickly you are nothing and you always will be unless your rise as a noble servant. A broken heart is tragic. A broken spirit is catastrophic. King’s had taken thrash after thrash. He was determined not to give in, but he couldn’t stop himself from breaking.

  The best King could ever tell, Dagen was taken not long after him. King was still imprisoned in a glow of white that was never-ending and completely maddening when Dagen arrived. Day in and day out King had been told horrible tales. How his world was demolished. He’d been shown worse, specifically his lover with another man, happy and content with a child. He needed to believe the hells he was told of. Believing in them would allow him to surrender to the life that had him then and forevermore.

  He couldn’t though. There was nothing his Reveca could do to change the way he loved her. Was he weak, someone who would turn the other cheek, as she loved another? Hardly. If anything he had seen were true, he’d have his say, even take his absence until his ire cooled. Even in anger, he would still love her.

  King’s mindset made his life agony, the torture never ending. Then one day something changed. The air was different. Curiosity hung close to him as he sensed all around him. Amused by his changing mood Revelin placed Dagen in the same hold as a new arrival.

  At first glance, King would have sworn the male was a lost brother he’d never known. He carried himself the same way. When his eyes opened King saw the same blue enhanced by his dark locks. They both shared the same stubbornness as well. Dagen would say “Draxous soul of Zosime,” repeatedly as he lay near unconscious.

  Finally, King had a reason to live, to cling to awareness. It was to protect this lost brother of his, a creature that was enduring the same agony he had. Reason was like hope, very little can go a long way in the darkest of hours.

  It was gruesome to watch. Each time the words came from Dagen’s lips an invisible force would assault the male. King had felt the same pain. He knew it felt like your insides were on fire as each of your bones shattered. Feeling it was one thing, watching another endure it was entirely different.

  Recognizing the same stubbornness in Draxous, King knew this could go on for years, if such a thing existed where they were. He had to stop it. Slowly, he devised a plan. As the male slept, he spoke to him. “Dagen, that is a fine name. A warrior you are. Lover of many, charmed by few.”

  The male would thrash when he heard the words. In a way, they were more painful than the blows from the unknown. King was relentless. He would never wish the pain he had in his heart on another. There was only one way to survive where he was, and that was to let them think they had you. King could not rightly tell the male this, not when they were sensed on every level by their captors. King swore in time he’d find a way to give the male his identity back, but for now, he needed him to survive. He needed an ally.

  By the time Dagen opened his eyes for the first time, fully aware of his surroundings, one level stare from King was all it took to stop him from saying the name he still mumbled when he was deep in sleep. For a long time, they stayed together in their cell of light. Never talking about the past, only vaguely assuming where they were.

  Soon enough, the women came. Nymphs that refused to be stayed. When Dagen and King gave in, when they felt the emotion of exaltation as the females climaxed, they were fed for the fist time. No longer would food and water entice their cravings, only this one emotion through physical interaction. Revelin wasted no time ensuring the males had it repeatedly day in and out.

  It was another way to break them, to put salve on the wound that was the darkness that had taken them. King held on to his identity and Dagen’s, it was his stolen spoil. When time moved forward, and the debts of mortal life were paid, the males were pulled to Revelin’s side. Prized warriors he trusted, or so he said. King was sure Revelin only intended to keep his enemies closer than his friends.

  When King broke free, and Dagen was the first to follow, it was almost natural. Each had a sense this was how it was to be from the start. There were times when King thought to tell Dagen of the words he’d said when he first arrived in Revelin’s prison. King would’ve proudly handed Dagen the knowledge if he had not searched himself and discovered that Zosime had long left the earth. There were not even bones King could take to the depths of the Veil, in hopes that a lingering witch could call forth the lost female.

  It may not have been King’s rightful place to decide that Dagen could not bear the same pain King walked with, but he made the choice anyway. Dagen was a free spirit, lighthearted, and loyal beyond measure. King would be damned if the past burned out the powerful light he had become. So, he also forgot the very beginning, the shame of all they’d endured side by side as their spirits were broken and the lives they loved were erased.

  And now this. There was no end to the woven twists of fate that had surfaced. King was sure nothing would surprise him by now. This? Dagen being a member of a Throng, a dead governing body of the Gods? It was damn near impossible. So impossible that it was possible.

  Revelin had reasons for who he took, they were all strategic moves. Half the time he didn’t know why. Revelin would say to King, “Do you know what it’s like to look at a soul and know they will strive for you demise, but not be able to fathom how or even why?”

  King ignored this random phrase of his until one day it made sense. Revelin had known Dagen was dangerous. He’d known King was. But did he know that King very well could take half his throne and hand the other to Cashton and Raven BellaRose? Could he have known that Dagen was a surviving member of a Throng? A tool that could slaughter him? Forget rising sovereigns and their trials. A Throng needed none of it to place a strong hold on a dark god.

  King doubted Revelin knew what he had when he had it. If Revelin had, he would never have striven to make them loyal. He would have destroyed their souls.

  Even right now, watching Dagen’s body drenched in sweat and tense with rage, King could not fathom that he was right. Throngs were said to be no more. How else could the dark gods have become as gruesome as they were?

  On and on King wrestled with his conclusions. If he were right, the war King and Dagen had been plotting would arrive far sooner than they wanted it to.

  Not only would Revelin not leave a surviving member of the Throng standing, neither would any other God. King had to be wrong, he just had to be. Reason would argue with him. And it all started with Talon. Why had Jamison BellaRose, the devout man he was, ever allowed Reveca or any member of his coven to even dare to conceive the idea of bringing back the dead? There was no way they would’ve been able to achieve it without his blessing. His power had to be applied.

  It was a question King had wrangled with since the first time he laid eyes on Talon. Why this male, of all the males that had ever walked the earth, was chosen for Reveca. He was chosen, no matter what say Reveca thought she had in the matter. King was well aware of the ancient power the Dominarum coven had strumming through their blood.

  It wasn’t for Talon’s likeness to King, in image or personality. At best, they both shared a common talent of mastering war games. Talon was far friendlier than King. He led with brotherhood. King lead with silent composure. Where King balanced his emotions, Talon lived his.

  Did they save Talon’s life because they knew what he was? All the others that came after him, what were they? A cover? A way to hide this one forgotten weapon? If it was, it had to be the
most gruesome cover-up in all of history. Reveca had abused her power, and as a result legions of men suffered not one but two deaths. Even more walked the earth knowing one mistake and they’d be hunted by the Sons and Reveca.

  King never once bought the easy fix of Ambrosia and Talon. Fate did not work that simply. An aged bond between Talon and Reveca could not be overturned by a fire goddess, especially one like Ambrosia. Child or no child, the female had no real claim on Talon. Anyone could sense this. King had despised the female from the first time he met her eras before. There was something untrue about the role she claimed to have. Her careless barters reflected that she was hiding something.

  Dagen had kept his eye on the matter for King. In his absence, no matter how short they were, King watched over the Boneyard. It was weeks back when a cold chill rushed down his spine. Talon was in his cabin nursing a bottle of whiskey, Scorpio was in his cabin writing. From King’s perch, he could see them both. They both cringed at the same time, Talon fell to the floor fighting the same pain that had left him raw. Scorpio stood strong through it.

  Experiencing the same pain at the same time was one thing. Scorpio’s soul vanishing from his body was another. King had no idea where he went just that the pain stopped moments later, and that both men had collapsed into a deep sleep.

  When Dagen came back from his mission, King had a host of orders he was ready to give him. They were all shelved when King sensed how depleted Dagen was. “What the fuck happened to you?” King demanded.

  “That is one horny bitch. I’ve had nymphs with more candor.” Dagen said as he drew in the power of the Faction restoring himself. “She tried to pin me,” he smirked. “I showed her.” He stared at Talon sleeping across the way. “She’s not going to wait much longer for him. Us bartering with her has only made her want him more.” He paused watching Talon’s quiet, sure breaths. “At least I bought him a few minutes of shut eye.”

  King was on high alert arguing with himself from that point on. Scorpio vanishing right as all talks the Helco Faction had with Ambrosia halted only helped the unbelievable make more sense. Hearing Reveca’s confession of how Scorpio came to be rocked King so deeply that he could do little but remain silent.

  All along Reveca could’ve had an unstoppable weapon in her grasp. Instead of using it, she alienated the gift. Worse yet, she was too stubborn to see that she had. There was no time for King to break this all down and prepare for the consequences. Dagen collapsed. The spell Ambrosia had used was meant to drain his power. Not the power of an Escort, but as a member of a Throng. If she had figured out what Dagen was, others could too. What then?

  King had to get Dagen through this episode before he could think further through this hellish dilemma.

  Jamison had long since taken his hands off of Dagen. There was not a single spell that could be spoken to protect him further. When it was at its worst, Jamison had looked back at King and said, “They’re together now. Creator help them.”

  King swayed on his feet. It sucked being right. Worse yet it sucked knowing that one of the deadliest weapons that had ever existed was awakening. If Ambrosia took any member of the Throng, she’d be undefeatable. If the Throng won... heaven only knew what was to come. Would they be merciful or Vengeful? King was betting on the latter, and his wager came from personal experience. As a mortal, he had guarded Throngs in their holy place. He had witnessed first how now there was zero tolerance for anyone who struck a member. Their punishment was always just and profound, but it was punishment all the same.

  Now the battle was won, King had heard Talon arise, and felt the sick pit in his gut. The same one he always felt before the goriest battles of his life. Dagen hadn’t come around yet. King was fine with it for now. He had no idea what to say to him when he did arise.

  “How long have you known?” King said throwing the same question Jamison had asked when he appeared with Dagen right back at him.

  Jamison kept his eyes on Dagen. “Does it matter?”

  King’s anger thrashed out at Jamison turning him where he stood. “Yes,” he spat.

  “Since before your legion was hired by my father.”

  “Your adopted father,” King pointed out. “What Seer saw this, where was it written?”

  “The scrolls are gone. Revelin destroyed them in his final attack. I watched them burn myself. We are the only living witness.”

  “We?”

  “Saige and I.”

  King narrowed his stare. “Has there ever been a moment that you have not played Reveca?”

  Shame didn’t hit Jamison’s stare, but the remorse was close enough to call him and the entire coven guilty as fucking hell. They had all watched Reveca hang herself with this grief. “We never told her to go to Talon. It was her ways that drew her there.”

  “Her ways, you mean she was dead set on self-destruction.” How could they just stand there and let her hurt herself?

  “I mean that she would do anything to stop Saige from one moment of happiness.”

  “Saige?” King spat.

  Jamison arched a brow. “Reveca’s blows to her sister were promised to be deep and deadly. Thank the Creator Saige knew to expect them, that her faith not only prepared her for their arrival but gave her reason to endure it for countless eras. Otherwise, no soul would’ve survived as long as she has.

  “Her fucking faith. Speak clearly for fuck’s sake.”

  “You don’t want me to,” Jamison said in his calm southern gentleman way.

  King’s vim thrashed against him.

  “Fine,” Jamison said as his expression turned cold. “Reveca had her tantrums. We endured them all the way to the old world. When she decided to participate in society, she targeted every male that bothered to look Saige’s way. Her actions destroyed marriages, treaties, started wars and so on. She was so vile that Saige rarely let her eyes meet another. Her pronounced chastity quieted the waters until one night Saige looked up and right at Talon.” His expression was grim. “Before the moon had fully risen Reveca had acted as she always had. She had seduced away happiness that was not meant for her.”

  The sick pit in King’s stomach only twisted further. He had no idea which way to push his rage. This unruly female Jamison was speaking of was made of King’s soul. When she was his, she was innocent, curious and not afraid to ask questions, yes, but she was devout to her passion. Revelin and his evil had turned her into this person he’d never know or understand.

  “You kept Talon,” King pointed out briskly.

  “I did. Saige was aware of what was in his soul. As was predicted.”

  “You couldn’t tell Reveca? Did you not think she was wise enough to respect sacred beings from her homeland?”

  “Throngs are from every homeland. And no, she was not wise enough. Reveca had abolished all her faith. She’d lost her humanity. Stricken by bloodlust. If she knew what was inside of Talon, she would have killed him and thought nothing of it.”

  “You are fucked up,” King said holding his glare in place. “You’ve played them all, and because you did you have destroyed what would’ve been an unstoppable force.”

  Jamison stared knowingly at King. “The force is still unstoppable. The players are simply not as you wish.” He left the room in the blink of an eye. King could have followed him anywhere, but he wasn’t leaving Dagen.

  As he paced, he could not find a way to think through any of this. Civil war would destroy the family his woman loved. Souls she had prided herself on protecting and nurturing would look at her like a stranger. He could not imagine the pain she would go through. Jamison wasn’t wrong, there had always been strife between Saige and Reveca. And even though it turned his stomach and flipped his rage switch, he had no doubt that any part of what Jamison said about Reveca going to the men who favored Saige was false.

  It all began with him. Reveca’s father trying to sway him to love his devout daughter. King couldn’t even see Saige when she was next to Reveca. What was Reveca thinking once he was
taken? That robbing her sister would bring her company in misery? Or that if she did she might find the same feeling she had with King again?

  She found something, sure as fuck. A sleeping member of the Throng that she built an empire with. There had to be a way to make peace with all of this.

  All at once Dagen shot up gasping for breath like he had been under miles of water. King was at his side bracing him as Dagen’s chest heaved and his eyes stared wide into nothing.

  “Right here,” King said trying to get his attention.

  “Draxous soul of Zosime,” Dagen said in a dead language.

  King froze where he was. He’d assumed that Zosime was a mortal girl long since perished. He’d also assumed Dagen was only a warrior too. What had awoken in Dagen? Had he remembered or connected to this female?

  “At one time,” King admitted regretfully.

  Dagen’s attention shot to King.

  With deflated shoulders, King sat on the side of the bed. “I never inquired about the line. It was the one you said before you woke for the first time. I assume it was your truth.”

  Dagen’s eyes remained wide and fear soaked.

  “I talked you through the pain. Gave you a new name,” King admitted.

  Dagen thrashed out but was too weak to make any impact on the likes of King.

  “She’s dead, long gone before we ever made the Helco Faction. I checked.”

  “You fucking checked?” Dagen asked on a short inhalation of breath.

  King wanted to look away but forced himself to look him in the eye. “I can’t say I was right, only that I thought it was at the time.”

  Stiff silence rained on as Dagen’s breaths tried to steady.

  “Dagen do you understand what a Throng is?” Most dark angels were aware of the old enemy that had been slain but to speak of them was to invoke them, few did.

  “Do you?” Dagen’s tone was draped in venom. “Do you know that they sense every emotion, more so their own Throng.”