Page 90 of Sight of Fate

Leif looks at me. “Would you mind sketching your vision? I’d like to see it.”

I dip my chin in agreement, and Alex takes off running, returning a second later with a pencil and a notebook.

With quick strokes, I show the man returning, pouring liquid around the cabin, and lighting it while Annika stands in the cabin with a young girl in her arms. Sofia. In the next scene, Annika and Sofia flee the burning cabin. The man grabs the little girl and holds a knife to her throat while another man forces Annika to swallow a purple flower.

Leif’s hands shake when he looks at the images. “Someone find Bengt.” There’s a rustling in the back of the room, and three men drag a fourth to the front.

Leif glances at Teague. “Get Charli out of here.”

Teague takes my hand, and the four of us get our coats and leave. Howling pierces the night air, and I shiver and tuck myself into Teague’s arms.

“What was that purple flower?”

“Wolfsbane,” Macklin replies, motioning to his truck. “Give me a hug, love. I need to run out to help with the dragons that are hatching tonight.” He holds his arms wide, and I slide into them for his kiss. “Mmm. Sweet dreams.”

Macklin turns to Andros. “Ready?”

Andros is staring at the restaurant. “Your vision. It was so detailed.” He looks at me. “Have you ever had one about me?”

I hesitate.

He grabs my arms. “What did you see?”

Macklin jerks him away, and Teague roars. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I saw all three of you,” I admit with a heavy sigh. “For two years, I dreamed of partial faces, features I searched for everywhere I went. Deep blue eyes, stern lips, a broad grin. Sometimes I got a glimpse of a scene but never a face. I knew when I came to Greystone and saw those features on the three of you that I was meant to be here.”

“That’s it?” Andros asks, his intense gaze demanding the truth. “You didn’t see my past?”

“I swear,” I tell him.

He jerks his arm from Macklin’s and storms off.

Macklin looks at me. “I’ve got to go. Would you mind explaining why he asked? You know he never talks about it.”

Teague nods. “Go after him. We’ll see you in the morning.” He helps me into the SUV, then strides around to the other side.

“What was that all about?” I shakily ask Teague when he gets in.

“Normally, I wouldn’t tell someone else’s story, but it’s unlikely Andros will ever tell you,” he says, his voice heavy. “Andros served as a manservant for a French aristocrat back in the Middle Ages who was both cruel and a drunk. He often beat his servants, especially Andros, because he was always the one who took care of him. One night, Andros tried to put him to bed, and in a drunken rage, he shoved him…and Andros fell halfway into the fireplace.”

I close my eyes as his words hit hard. “That’s why he wears gloves.”

“And formal attire. Shirts buttoned up completely,” Teague expands, then continues. “Unfortunately, some fool turned that bastard into a vampire, then he turned Andros because he was unwilling to live without his favorite servant. For two hundred years, Andros followed him. Accepting whatever punishment he dished out.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “And there were a lot of punishments. Cruel games.”

A knot forms in my throat, and I swallow hard. “It’s hard to picture that fierce, intelligent man as a victim of abuse, but I see it. The way he responds to everything, as if it’s amplified, a current he’s constantly swimming against.”

Teague parks, and we head toward the elevator. “He wasn’t the man you see today. His sire controlled him by keeping him ignorant and dependent. He couldn’t read or write. Nor could he feed unless it was from his sire. Another mechanism for him to use. Starved him for every little transgression.”

He opens the front door and pours us both a glass of wine, then removes his sport coat. “Andros finally had enough. He ran away to die. Unfortunately for him, he hid out in the church where Macklin and I were stationed, and we refused to let him. We slowly taught him how to survive, to read and write, to fight. Took us a few years.”

Realization dawns. “He’s afraid I’m going to touch him and see his past.” My fingers slip inside the shirt I’m wearing and caress the scars on my shoulders and upper back.

Teague nods and sits down on the couch, then pulls me into his lap. “He’s terrified. It took him a long time to trust Macklin and me. Not that his past is an excuse for him to act that way, but we thought you should know in case he has any redeeming qualities you might want in a mate.” Leaning forward, he places small kisses on the side of my neck. “But I think he’s also scared because you make him feel. Something he’s managed to avoid almost all his life.”

“So, you met him and helped him, then he came here with you?” I ask, fingering the button on his shirt.

“If the horde hadn’t been rampaging across Ireland, I still don’t know if he would have come with us.”