Font Size:  

“You gonna do that again?”

Regan shook her head. “No, I guess not.”

Though the agony had passed, Regan’s head throbbed. She accessed her healing vibration and let it flow. In doing so, however, she could tell that the spell Margetta had installed would deliver pain whenever she attempted to path anyone.

How would Ian ever find her if she couldn’t communicate with him? Besides, she still didn’t even know where she was. Ben’s home could be anywhere in Camberlaune.

Margetta released the bindings on Regan’s arm. She could move now and pulled both arms over her chests protectively.

Ben drew close, settling his hand on her shoulder. She could hear him draw in a deep breath. “What am I smelling? A very rich fragrance, very floral.” He released his breath, closing his eyes at the same time. “So this is what it’s like. To be near a blood rose.”

Regan had two thoughts at once. First was a realization the blood tattoos were completely gone and no longer protected her. Second, she thought Ben the most beautiful vampire she’d ever seen.

She could also tell he needed to feed.

As one in a trance, she sat up and extended her arm to him. “Take from my vein.”

~ ~ ~

Ian flew back over the Dauphaire Mountains, hunting for Regan, crisscrossing the land faster than he ever had before. He kept calling out to her telepathically, but nothing returned to him. He’d left Stone in charge of combing the fortress and the deserted camp for anything that could help him locate Margetta or Regan.

But searching in this way made little sense. Ben had her, which meant she was back under Margetta’s thumb. It wouldn’t do much good to use a scattergun approach in trying to find her.

Reaching the northeastern section of the mountains, he headed to his cabin. A few minutes later, he landed on the deck and paced the length in quick hard strides, shoving his hair away from his face since the clasp was long gone.

A sickness had taken hold of him, a guilt so profound he could hardly breathe. He’d misjudged Regan for five long centuries. He’d convinced himself she’d enthralled him, that she alone was responsible for Raven’s Overlook.

Instead – Goddess help him – the horrendous killing had been orchestrated by Ben. Ian couldn’t fathom how he’d completely misjudged the man. How could a warrior he’d trusted with his life, for such a long time, have done these terrible things?

He continued to march. He had to think this through, had to figure out how to find Regan.

He paused in his marching and lifted his arms up. He’d been so caught up in his distress he hadn’t realized the blood tattoos had now disappeared. Margetta had severed his connection to Regan, leaving her vulnerable to another mastyr, to Ben.

In sheer agony, he dropped to his knees and roared into the night sky. This was Margetta’s work. He could feel it in his bones.

But how had he gotten here? Was it truly because he’d trusted the wrong person all these years?

A cool night breeze blew along the deck, lifting his hair.

In the end, this was all his fault.

When he thought back to the massacre, especially to the horror of finding his beautiful sister dead, he’d fallen into his grief then and there. He remembered feeling like he’d been thrown into a pit he’d never be able to escape.

Regan had been with him. She’d sought comfort in his arms, but he’d pushed her away. Somehow, she was responsible for the massacre, at least that’s what he’d chosen to believe. Whether she’d enthralled him or not, his love, desire and need for her had kept him from Camberlaune.

For a long time afterward, Ben had remained silent. But at what moment had he started to support Ian’s conviction Regan had been to blame for Raven’s Overlook? Was it Ben who had first suggested Regan had enthralled him? He could recall Ben hinting: hadn’t Regan’s eyes turned silver on several occasions? If only Ian had been in Camberlaune that night, that’s what Ben had said to him. Repeatedly.

So, Ian had made Regan his scapegoat. But the last thing he could have handled at any point following the death of his sister, was admitting he’d been culpable. He wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. His guilt had ruled him.

As he lay the entire situation out in his mind, one question arose. Why had he never doubted Ben’s loyalty? Why had it never crossed his mind that Ben might be a traitor?

He had only to think back to the night of the massacre and he knew why. When Ben had found his brother’s body, he’d gone wild with grief and had been completely inconsolable. And not just that night. Ben had been out of his mind for weeks.

Looking back, Ian knew Ben hadn’t been putting on a show; his grief had been real. Ian could only suppose that whatever the nature of his plans, which had included the murder of his brother, the reality afterward had been something entirely different. Ben had experienced real pain for what he’d done and had been a wrecked man for months, eyes reddened day after day. Ben had lost weight and muscle, something warriors should never do. Killing his brother had hurt Ben

Because Ben had been grief-stricken, Ian had thought they’d suffered in the same way. Now Ian realized how wrong he’d been. Feeling bad after the fact was a far different cry from choosing not to commit a treasonous, murderous act in the first place. Ian’s view of Ben had always been slanted by the depth of Ben’s grief. He’d misinterpreted the signs completely and had placed his absolute faith in Ben. Now Ben had control of Regan.

Ian had little doubt as well that if he had continued to see Regan after the massacre, Ben would have found some other means of forging a divisive wall between them. Maybe he would have continued killing off more Camberlaune Realm-folk until Ian’s guilt sent Regan away. Or maybe he would have simply had her killed.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like