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Millie pauses, then frowns. “No. She…simply broke with him.”
Astonishment reverberates through the room.
Duke breaks the silence. “Did Shock somehow convince her, after all these decades, to part with Lucan and accept his Call?”
“No,” Bram insists. “I’m sure Shock wants that, but Anka has been devoted to Lucan for nearly a hundred years.”
“Then, why…?” I gasp. “Oh, god. Do you think Mathias captured her and forced her…?”
“That’s precisely what I think.”
Horror washes over me. “We have to find her!”
“It’s probably too late.” And Bram looks sickened by that reality.
Marrok thunders toward him. “You know what that motley-minded miscreant will do to Anka.”
Bram flinches. “I do.”
“We cannot leave her to suffer such a cruel fate.”
“He’s right. And if you bring her back, Lucan will be whole again,” I argue.
Bram turns to us. “If you were Mathias and the three things you needed most—you, the book, and your key—were in one well-protected place, what would you do?”
Marrok swears. “Stage a distraction.”
“Exactly. You said yourself, Olivia must be protected, no matter what it costs or how many die.” He sighs. “I just never expected that statement to be tested so terribly or so soon.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Hours pass. After the unhappy admission that she can’t do anything more to help Lucan, Aunt Millie leaves. Once she’s gone, only his raw screams shatter the thick silence. Sleep is impossible. As the sun rises and people stir, tempers flare and nerves run thin.
Everyone is on edge.
Despite the fact I was chased by Anarki out of Marrok’s cottage, somehow this danger feels more real and menacing.
Marrok takes Ice and Duke outside to resume training—and to avoid their fellow warrior’s anguished screams. Apparently, beating the crap out of each other has calming qualities.
From a chair in the corner, I watch Bram struggle to hold himself together as he hovers over Lucan’s pale, tense form. I’ve never had a best friend, but I’m sure it’s agonizing to see someone you care for lose their mind. My guess is, it’s ripping Bram apart.
I shift in my seat, almost afraid to break the momentary hush. “Will he make it?”
“My mate?” Lucan scratches in the demented growl that never fails to make me shiver as he bucks against his restraints. Then he sniffs the air. His eyes fly open, crazed and black and ready to tear me apart. “No! No! Where’s Anka?”
I’m afraid of the answer to my question.
The anguish on Bram’s face tells me he harbors the same fear. “I don’t know. What happens next isn’t my decision. His condition is far too serious. We must call his next of kin.”
I don’t know Lucan well, but a vivid memory of him and Anka at Bram’s party—was that a scant two days ago?—haunts me. They looked so in love.
“Are you sure Mathias forced Anka to break their bond?” I mutter even more quietly. “Maybe Lucan cheated on her.”
“Never. Once mated, a magical man relies on his other half for his emotional sustenance and energy. He will reject all others.” He sighs. “Unfortunately, Lucan will run out of energy soon, and if I cannot reach his family…”
“Energy? Doesn’t he eat for that?”
“For his body, yes. To power their magic, witches and wizards require connection with another, an exchange of strong emotion, if you will. We store up the energy gleaned during sex. For the unmated, if the experience is not a powerful one, we must recharge often. With a mate, the sex is more meaningful, so the energy charge is stronger. It will last longer. If anyone magical goes too long without repowering, they fade into their nextlife.”
