Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2) (26 page)

Abhartach straightened, his eyes sharp. "Ye would make such an oath? A true vow? In exchange for what? I will not let her go, not for anything you can promise me—"

"I know. Alls I ask is tha' ye swear no' to kill her or to keep us apart."

This was the best Aidan decided he could hope for, it was a small risk on Abhartach's part, meant to entice. The demon could do plenty to Heather without actually killing her, and allowing them to stay together also put Abhartach out very little. Both requests were simply intended to bind the demon in small ways that would infinitely increase their chances of escape. "I want yer oath now, before I see her. Once I have
and
I have made she sure she will survive, I will give ye yers."

"Oh that is tempting, so very tempting, indeed." Abhartach breathed the words as if struggling with himself. "So much for so little." He could tell the demon was wondering what he was playing at, but the carrot he was dangling was a large, juicy one. One he had no intention of ever handing over, but Abhartach didn't need to know that.

Aidan leaned forward unconsciously, willing Abhartach to take the offer. The edge of his wrist pressed into the table, that evil, loathsome table and he recoiled as the images flooded into him.

Heather's body on that table. The vision of her was new and bright and vicious, overlaying the other old memory that lurked there for him. It burned away all other thought.

His eyes went wide as he stared down at the stone, he barely heard the demon's next words as her screams echoed in his head.

"I swear that I will not kill the woman, not by my hand nor order it by the hand of another. I also swear to allow you to remain with her so often as you choose. If indeed you do so choose. You may find her less tempting now." The demon chuckled as he slashed his own hand open with one sharp fingernail. His blood dripped onto the table, smoked once and vanished, but Aidan didn't notice.

He stood when Abhartach ordered his
daor
to search him, only vaguely feeling the repulsion as Declan's hands moved over him with reverent care. Aidan missed the flash of disappointment on Abhartach's face entirely when the
daor
gave a small shake of his head and stepped away.

Aidan had been stunned senseless by the vision that flashed in his head. Surely, Abhartach lied. She couldn't be alive. No one could survive what he had just seen…could they?

"We have an accord. Third door on the right. I am sure you remember the way." Abhartach raised an eyebrow when Aidan didn't move. "Well, go on then. What are you waiting for, dear boy? I thought you were anxious for this little reunion."

The man who had moved back to the demon's feet tittered. Abhartach's hand sank into his hair and Declan went quiet as Aidan turned his head at last. The slave's dark blue eyes shone at Aidan with maniacal glee. There was something seriously wrong with that white-haired bastard.

Turning away, his heart cold and heavy as iron in his chest, Aidan contemplated the staircase. It seemed impossibly high, stretching on and upwards far too long to be real. More likely it was his fear of what he would find at the top of those stairs distorting reality. His footsteps rang against the walls as he went up.

When he opened the door and saw her lying on the bed, his first thought was that he had been right. Abhartach
had
lied and Heather was dead. For a moment, gods help him, for one terrible moment he wondered if that wasn't best.

Especially after what he had seen for that awful second below.

The chamber before him was cold and grey, with little ornamentation. It had changed not at all since the last time it had been his. Only the huge, ebony four-poster, hung with midnight blue velvet drew his eye…and the woman lying in it.

He stood there for a long time trying to gain the courage to cross the room. When he finally did, he had to hold on to the bedposts to keep upright.

Her beautiful face was pale, the dusky olive gone white as milk. Eyes closed, the dark smudge of her lashes stark against wan cheeks. Her body was covered by a sheet of lightest blue, a sheet stained with blood, both new and bright, rusty and old. Aidan swallowed. He couldn't lift that sheet, not yet.

Her smell drifted through the air, sweet and unchanged, but he could sense little from her. It was if her psyche was curled behind glass, silenced within an invisible, impenetrable shield.

She took a breath. A shallow breath that rustled through the room, a whisper in the dark.

Aidan laid his cheek into the sleek black wood and took a shaky breath of his own.

"Gods, nobody, what did he do to ye?"

"Aidan?"

He started. He had thought her unconscious. With the tip of a gloved finger, he reached down to trace her jaw. She opened those violet eyes and his heart stuttered. Something brushed at him, something from deep inside her, full of terror and tears and breathtaking cold, then it swirled away. Back behind the glass.

"You sure took your time." Her voice was as insubstantial as smoke, but her full lips curved.

"Well, ye know the power of a late entrance." The flippancy stuck in his throat, but he choked it out.

"For sure. I was fine with it, of course, but your demon….he got a little impatient." She closed her eyes, but not before he saw the sheen there.

"Let's have a look then." He reached for the sheet, his hand shaking.

"No." One soft word. But it froze him instantly.

"Heather. I canna help, if I canna see…"

"You can't help, Aidan."

"Let me be the judge of tha'."

She didn't open her eyes, but he saw her throat work.

"You're gonna be a stuborn ass about this, aren't you?"

"O' course I am, would ye expect anything less?"

"Fine."
Her voice was resigned.

Gently, he pulled the sheet back. Heather turned her face into the pillow, but Aidan didn’t notice because his mind had gone utterly numb.

His knees hit stone.

Her body, that lovely, perfect body, had been more than ravaged, it had been turned into something unrecognizable. Oozing crimson trails crossed every inch of skin from her collarbone to the soles of her feet. A twisted map of Abhartach's cruelty in living flesh. How had she ever endured this?

He bit his lips so hard, blood spurted over his tongue. The taste of it finally shook him from his horror. He got to his feet slowly, feeling every year of his long life in that moment.

"I
can
make this better. I canna heal ye entirely, but…there is something. Will ye trust me?"

As soon as he spoke the words he wanted to suck them back in.
Trust him?
The last time they had spoken he had been fucking vicious, and then he had left her in the hands of a monster for nearly 24 hours. How could he even think she would—

"I do." She hadn't lifted her head from the pillow, so the two words were muffled, but unmistakable as a lightning strike through the heart.

Damme.

Aidan staggered a little. Then he nodded, though she couldn't see him. It was more to convince himself than her, anyway.

"Okay then, this may…. Oh bugger tha', this is going to hurt like fuck all, love. I am sorry…but if ye let me use my power, I can ease it—"

She cut him off. This time she lifted her head, her dark hair scattered over her face, but he could see the dark fire of that purple gaze.

"
No
. What's a bit more pain, all things considered?"

"Aye," he sighed reluctantly as he lifted his wrist to his lips. Even now, she refused to give up control.

Her eyes widened at the sight of his fangs, but she didn't say a word, watching him steadily. He tore deep into his own flesh, opening both arteries and veins, wanting a strong, steady flow.

She gasped when he stretched his hand over her body, letting his blood flow over the cruel wounds in her skin. For a moment, she seemed frozen in shock. Then her head rolled back. Her back bowed off the bed as her scream ripped through the room.

He moved over her instantly, his gloved hand curving over her face, pulling it around to him. She swallowed, shaking her head at the glow in his eyes, closing her own tightly. The scream turned into a series of short, breathless gasps as she tried to twist away from him.

"Stop, Aidan! I can take it…"

"But
I
canna! Look at me. Come on, love.
Please!"
His fingers trembled on her cheek. Finally she opened her eyes.

Instantly, he slipped inside her mind. For a split second Aidan couldn't breathe. The screaming inside her was piercing, unending and all-consuming behind that glass she had put up. Put up to protect
him
, he realized with a bone-deep certainty.

It hadn't been about control at all, her refusing his power. She had just been trying to spare him
this
.

Her agony ripped him out of himself. It was so black, so horribly complete that for a minute he was lost. It seemed an eternity before Aidan started to gain control. Like a man working his way up an icy slope, he forced the pain away step by slippery step, the fear, the torment…all of it.

Heather's spine unlocked and she sank back into the bed as he pushed her headlong into unconsciousness. He felt the shivers dancing over her skin, saw the sweat glisten as his blood worked to heal her. Her breathing had settled, thanks to his interference.

Vampire blood could heal, but the way of it was harsh and agonizing.

She'd be scarred, though. Terribly. He couldn't do anything about that. Not unless he let her drink from him directly. And that he would
never
do.

It took all that night and most of the next day for Heather to heal. She never woke without seeing Aidan somewhere close. He must have left at some point, because he used his blood on her twice more, so he had to have fed. She didn't want to think of from who.

He was sleeping in a chair next to the bed when she opened her eyes to find herself free of pain for the first time since Abhartach had hit her at the Fitzpatrick's.

Aidan was sprawled in that careless poise of his, all lazy, beautiful power. His curls were tangled, as if his fingers had streaked through them only a minute ago. He was pale. Paler than she'd even seen him. There were blue smudges under his eyes and his cheeks were hollow.

Heather watched him. Her hands twisting the bedcovers, remembering how she had looked at the painting of him while she lay on that cold table. How she had drawn strength from his mere likeness. Having him here in reality was far better, just as she'd told Abhartach.

Wasn't it?

He'd get them out. Aidan had to have a plan. That was what had taken so long, surely. He had been working something out. That was all.

"Why are ye crying, love?"

She blinked. She hadn't seen him open his eyes. Heather ducked her head. "I'm not crying."

"O' course, yer no'. 'Tis just raining. Inside. On yer face."

She smothered the mad urge to giggle against the sheets. "And what a face it must be."

"'Tis a very beautiful face, nobody." She caught the unspoken 'still'. Abhartach had not touched her face with his blade. Aidan was reminding her of that, however gently. It made her mad.

"I'm not vain."

Aidan snorted, stretching in his chair. "O' course ye are."

"That's not true." As if vanity was anything after what she had been through. Though she didn't have the courage to lift the sheet to look at her body. A body that she wouldn't even know anymore. That she didn't want to know. Maybe he was right.

She bit her lip.

"Oh bollocks," he shot at her. "Ye're one of the most beautiful women in the world. O' course yer vain. Obnoxious about it sometimes, too."

"You fucking—"

"Ass?" He interrupted her angry whisper and her lips twitched.

She shook her head at him, her eyes flashing. "You said it, not me."

And yer not crying anymore,
he thought.
For now.

She did cry, though. Lots more. Mostly when he couldn't see her, but sometimes she slipped. Another night and day went by. Things were hazy. There was still pain. The first time Aidan helped her wash. The first time she walked across the cold floor, the scars on the soles of her feet pressing in like she was treading on tangled ropes. The first time she felt his lips on her skin and shoved him away.

Heather didn't leave the room.

Aidan did.

More often by the third night.

She didn't ask what he was doing. And he didn't tell her. His face became more drawn with each passing hour.

Still, they did not talk about what went on below. But they did talk. For hours.

They mostly avoided his past and her future. They talked about nonsense and drivel and anything but what was important. Another day passed. He slept in the bed with her now, but they didn't do more than touch in passing. Heather wouldn't allow it. When they were awake. Sleeping it was different.

Her body betrayed her.

She woke with her head on his chest, her hip curved into his, her thigh over his legs. Four nights had passed since Aidan had returned. In that time, she had seen no one but him. Had heard no one but him. Tonight that would be different. Abhartach had demanded her presence below. Not in the dining hall, Aidan had promised her that much, but in the throne room. There was no choice, he had explained to her in the hours before dawn, the starlight soft in his hair through the wide open window. His eyes had been hard and unyielding.

She had nodded dully, but hadn't spoken to him for the rest of the night.

She didn't think she could do it. Face the thing that had tortured her. Look into those cold dead eyes, seeing those blackened, red lips. Heather pressed her face into Aidan's chest, her breath coming in hard, fast hiccupping gulps as the panic started.

It was only when his hand slid into her hair that she realized he was awake. Immediately, she tried to roll away, but he held her fast.

It was the first time he had challenged her wishes on this since that first night, when he had held her down to heal her.

The anxiety spread, quickly turning to hysteria.

"Let me go!" She screamed at him. Aidan didn't flinch, only pulled her on top of him, his arms wrapping her more securely against him.

"Nae," his voice was quiet, but firm. "Breathe, love. Face the fear and accept it. Ye can conquer this, yer too damn strong to give up."

She struggled harder, scratching him, clawing him, cursing him until her voice was raw. Her tears splattered on his face and throat before she collapsed, sobbing. His grip loosened at last, his hand stroked her back as her crying slowed.

He would give anything to spare her this, but he was trapped. One more night. He had danced to Abhartach's strings for the past several days, delaying his oath by every means possible and he was exhausted, sick and ill with the things he had done.

It had been worth it to keep Heather from beast for a little while longer. He had hoped they would be gone before the summons came down, but yesterday Abhartach had said the words Aidan had been dreading.

"I want to see your pet again, Aidan. Come now, she's surely healed enough, after all your tender ministrations, for you to be certain of her 'recovery'." Abhartach had spoke the last with false delicacy making Declan titter in that way that set Aidan's teeth on edge.

That they were spied upon, Aidan knew very well. It was why he hadn't spoken a word to Heather about the plan. Not that she had asked, either she was aware they were under constant observation, or she was afraid to question him, afraid there was nothing, no plan at all.

Perhaps she didn't even care.

She was so quiet, like a wraith confined to the four walls of their bedroom and content to be so. When they spoke, she would laugh and tease and play at being her normal self, but that was all it was, an act. The only flash of her real self Aidan had seen was when he tried to touch her.

Then something cankerous and dark would come over her face and she would pull away from him in both body and soul. He was losing her. Worse, she was losing herself. She had survived Abhartach's torture, but he didn't know if she could survive the aftermath.

It wasn't just his touch that brought that look over her. He had seen her shudder at the feel of her own skin, the way her eyes would go blank when she caught sight of her reflection.

Scars covered her like a web from her collarbone to the arches of her feet. Rose and red and purple and white, depending on the depth of the cut that had been made. Thousands of them.

Other than her face, only her back remained smooth as the vampire had not turned her to work there. He had told Aidan smugly that was for the next time Aidan defied him.

"And if you don't give me your oath by week's end, I'll start on that lovely face. I doubt you'll feel so tender toward her if she lacks a nose, eh, my son?"

Aidan repressed a shudder, continuing to caress Heather as her sobs subsided. She had to find her strength, he had to find a way to give it back to her.

If she went to Abhartach in this state he would eat her alive. Possibly literally. Aidan had been trying to think of what to do to get through to her, but then he had woken to this. She was shakier than ever.

Dread crept over him, if they couldn't get through this night, all was lost.

"Ye canna give up, nobody." He hadn't meant to say the words aloud again, but he did, and his voice shook.

She lifted her head. Her wild hair was a dark curtain framing a face was tear-streaked, blotched and pale. Violet eyes burned into his. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and if he had to watch her suffer any more…

Heather's eyes searched his face. She frowned.

“I
did
give up. Aidan, there was a time…I tried very hard to make him kill me, to end it. “

She felt Aidan’s hands tighten into fists under hers, and slowly she pried them apart, forcing his leather-clad fingers to uncurl and relax until they were palm to palm once more. Knowing that he was letting her, knowing he was likely to allow her anything at this fragile moment and choosing to use that deliberately. “Do you want to know what I said to make that monster lose control, Aidan?

He swallowed, but she didn’t give him the chance to answer. “I told him the truth, that he couldn’t break you. That you’ll never be like him, no matter what he does.”

“Ye donna know tha', Heather.”

“I really
do
.”

“Bullshit! I am no longer tha'
hero
,” he spat out the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, “ye have in your silly head, if I ever fucking was. Damme! Donna put tha' on me!” Agitated, he would have rolled off the bed but it only took her hand on his chest to stop him. Something was wrong with him.

For the last few days he had been the stoic one, showing her nothing but a façade of strength and resolve, but something had shook him now. He was losing hope, and that was enough to terrify her out of her own stupor. He needed to be strong.

She needed him to be strong.

“But, Aidan,” her voice was as gentle as her fingers against his skin. “You put that on
yourself
. By coming after me. I told him you wouldn’t, but I knew you would.”

“So did he.” Aidan’s voice was bitter.

“Yes, because he knows that part of you. He knows it is stronger than him and he is so very,
very
furious he can’t extinguish it.”

Aidan looked at her blankly. “Do ye really think I am the good one here, the
pure
one, fer god’s sake? Do ye have any idea the things I’ve done? What he's forced me into these past few days 'tis bad enough, but at least it's only been his slaves so far. Tha' first time though, the last time he had me here…” He shuddered and pulled away from her. "Heather, ye'd hate me if ye knew the truth of it."

“You killed someone, I imagine.”

She sighed, not in dismissal, but only to steel herself to accept what was coming. Aidan didn't take it that way, though.

““Donna say it like tha'!” Aidan hissed. “Donna say it like it was so long ago tha' it does no’ matter.”

She wondered if he realized that this was exactly what she was talking about, that his ability to care was so deep and wide that even after what had to be hundreds of years his ‘crimes’ weighed on him so heavily.

If
anything proved to her Abhartach had no chance of bending Aidan to his will, it was Aidan himself.

But all she said was- "Tell me.”

He got up from the bed, moved to the wall, then back again. Tension hummed from him, raising the hairs on her upper arms.

“There was this woman, this very young woman from the village a little ways from my da's keep. She was the tanner’s daughter, Siobhán. She had brown hair, wavy like yers, with just a touch of red. We’d danced a time or two like ye did—I kissed her once. Maybe twice.” He spun around, his eyes blazing at her through the gloom.

“No more than tha'. I wouldna trifle with the likes of her, nae back then. It woulda ruined her and even I was no’ so careless. Especially after Jo…well, after.” He wiped his hand over his face and turned away.

When Heather didn’t press him, he turned back again. “Abhartach kidnapped her from the village. She was bound to the table when he summoned me to the hall that night.”

Despite herself Heather’s hands dug into the sheets. That awful table. God in heaven.

“He bid me take her at my leisure, to drink from her. I refused. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I was so starved by then, I was half-crazed. It had been a week or so since he’d turned me.” He laughed harshly. “I think the bastard was actually starting to fear I would die before he could get me to drink on my own. They had to force blood down me each night to keep me from dying again. He needn’t have worried though, later tha' very same night he…” Aidan swallowed and again wouldn’t look at her. “He found my weak spot.”

“Weak spot?” Heather echoed.

Slowly, Aidan dragged his eyes back to hers. “Yes, he found the one person I loved most in all the world. After he marked her, he made me swear to do whatever he wanted. And I did.”

Oh.
Her.
Not this Siobhán, but yet another woman in his life. Somebody who had held his heart.

Jealousy was ridiculous, she told herself sternly, even as her own heart tightened in her chest. It was Aidan’s pain that mattered here, not her stupid insecurity over some poor long-dead woman who had probably suffered greatly at the hand of that monster below. Heather shook herself and reached for his hand. While he didn’t pull away, he didn’t sit down beside her either.