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I stared at him, feeling horribly helpless and utterly confused. He just lay there sobbing. After what seemed like a lifetime, the sobs began to subside, and the sounds of heavy breathing and the erratic thud of his heart was all I could make out. “Austin, Austin, it’s Tory. Austin, what’s wrong?”
He fell completely silent, holding his breath. “Tory?” His voice sent chills over my skin. He sounded so utterly desolate and vulnerable, my heart ached for him. He reached out slowly, his fingertips just touching my hand, then he jerked them back. “You’re real?”
“I’m real,” I assured him.
His eyes darted around the room. “Where...”
“We’re in an empty tomb at the temple of Ra at Heliopolis. The tunnel flooded, and you saved us by shutting us in here, remember?” A heavy weight settled on my heart as he slowly uncurled himself.
He swallowed several times and looked anywhere but at me.
I reached out and wove my fingers through his. He tried to pull away, but I tightened my grip. “I think it’s time we talk.”
He took a shuddered breath. “Now?”
“Now.”
He closed his eyes in defeat and nodded. “I’m not sure where to start.”
“Start by telling me how long you’ve been having flashbacks.” I doubted myself for a moment, but then he sighed.
“Since I got my memories back.” He pushed himself up and shuffled back, sitting with his back against the wall.
I moved forward slowly and crossed my legs, holding his hand in my lap, but not touching him in any other way. “Where are you?”
His eyes flashed up to mine, then away again. He was ashamed, and it hurt to see it. This giant, alpha of a man was so ashamed of his own suffering he couldn’t even look me in the eyes. I fought against the tears. It was my turn to be strong for him.
“Where are you, Austin?”
“Libya. 1996. We’re at a terrorist camp in the desert.”
“Why are you there?”
“They set a trap. We thought they had Ptah. Cameron thought we should wait, but I didn’t listen.”
Cameron Bell. The name danced through my mind, as well as a face—brown hair and eyes, and a cheeky smile—but I knew him instantly. It was Jasper. He faded, and I saw the others dressed in desert camouflage, each carrying guns, and each with a different name and face, but they were still my priests. My men.
“What happened?” I asked gently.
“We stormed the camp. There were cameras everywhere, and we didn’t want to risk footage being leaked of us shifting, so we went in our human forms. I was so confident, so sure we’d find him and we’d be complete again. Your husband. My brother—not in the flesh, but as close as brothers could be. After all this time, we’d be reunited.” A tear ran down his face, and I reached up to brush it away. He grabbed my wrist, though not roughly. “I never wanted you to see me weak again.”
I smiled sadly. “This isn’t weakness, Austin. Facing the memory of something that terrified you as much as this clearly did is strength, not weakness.”
He took a deep breath, steadier this time, and continued. “As I said, it was a trap. We were gunned down as soon as we reached the centre of the encampment. The guys were... They just fell like... There was no glory, no incredible deeds, they just dropped where they stood. And then I was hit, and I was on the ground, and they took her...”
“Austin, who’s Lucille?” I asked, though I thought I had probably worked it out.
He reached out with a shaky hand to run his finger down the side of my face. “Lucille Laurent. When I found her, she was a jazz singer in a smoky club in Paris. She dressed like it was the twenties, with blonde hair and amber eyes that would have you begging on your knees. She loved pearls, chocolate croissants, white wine, and red lipstick that left marks on my skin...”
A memory slipped into my mind—candlelight, soft jazz playing in the background, and the slick of red lipstick on my mouth as I leaned close to the mirror.
“Lucille is me,” I said softly.
Austin nodded. “It was a trap for you. I was still alive, and they tortured me for days, trying to get me to reveal your secrets.”
“Oh gods, Austin.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it. They tortured you too. They hurt you over and over, trying to get answers out of me. For days and nights, all I could hear were your screams.” He was shaking, and I squeezed his hand tightly. “Eventually I told them. I told them everything.” Another tear fell, and a third. He swallowed.
