Discord (Bound to the Fae Book 1) Read online

  When he finally drops my wrist, I’m panting and sweating, but I never let them have the satisfaction of broadcasting my pain. I’ve taken my fair share of ass kickings over the years, but this is on a different level. This goes beyond skin deep pain to settle into my bones and bleeds into every muscle of my body. Yet still, I was trained to handle situations like this without showing weakness, and I’ll be damned if I let something like this break me.

  I risk a quick glance at the others. Dorian in a similar state as me, but Lucien? You can’t even tell he’s in pain. Not only isn’t he shaking or sweating like us, but his eyes don’t radiate seething hatred or malice. They show nothing at all. A soulless, icy glare akin to that of a stone sculpture, devoid of all feeling.

  Even Cambria, who a man is still carving away at instead of burning, remains stony faced, but she can’t hide the hatred emanating from her in waves. Her eyes bore daggers into Rickon’s skull as he moves from the first hand to the other, followed by her chest directly over her heart. When he tries to cop a feel while shoving the blade deeper, she smacks him, hard. Blood spatters onto his face from her still bleeding wounds, but the sick fucker just grins, pressing harder into her skin while she hisses in pain.

  After several agonizingly long minutes, Rickon steps back from her and wipes his bloodied hand on his pants. The three of us are released from our bindings and I get to my feet in a hurry, despising feeling so vulnerable.

  Rickon licks a drop of blood off of the tip of his knife before stowing it. “No second chances, even for you.” With that, he and his buddies move on as if they can’t be bothered to waste any more time on us, leaving a gruesome mess in their wake without an ounce of remorse.

  While the brand in my hand never so much as bled, cauterized instantly, the same can’t be said for Cambria. Her wounds are openly weeping and her once white shirt is thoroughly soaked through at her chest, like a giant, scarlet mark of shame.

  “Come on,” she states, jaw still tightly clenched and sounding defeated.

  “Where are you taking us?” Lucien demands, and something tells me he hasn’t fully comprehended what just happened here, what I’m still trying to wrap my head around. But even I can appreciate how much a stranger just suffered when she very easily could have left us to die.

  “Home,” she retorts coldly, helping pull Dorian to his feet as he’s still staring at her from the ground, entranced. “So let’s get moving before you end up having to drag me there, since it’s not like you know where you’re going.”

  She starts walking and I share a look at my friends, debating for a minute if we should just haul ass back to the stupid circle and try to get home before the guards can catch us. But as soon as the thought occurs to me, Cambria hisses in pain and I start walking towards her instinctively. The engraving on her chest is only getting worse and now her stomach is soaked in blood too, matting her shirt to her skin.

  She turns back to glare at us impatiently, already pale. “I don’t know about you three, but I’m not enjoying the whole scarlet letter look. So if you could get your asses in gear, that’d be lovely.”

  Walking away, she doesn’t turn around again, instead keeping her head held high and actively ignoring the people staring at her. They gawk, point, and gossip with amusement, not even trying to hide their disparaging remarks.

  When she stumbles, Dorian is there offering his hand, trying to help her, but she brushes him off. She keeps her chin up high, lest she show weakness in front of this bloodthirsty crowd. He picks up on it and stops trying to help, biting his tongue and glowering at the others on the street instead.

  We carry on in tense silence for quite some time, moving past the affluent houses to what is a weirdly pristine version of an apartment district. Gone are the magical houses and in their stead are nearly solid white, plain buildings. They’re no more than rectangular boxes with windows, not so much as a speck of dirt to be found.

  Cambria’s steps come slower and her feet drag more between each step, but I do her the courtesy of pretending not to notice. She’s made it this long without collapsing; I’d hate to rob her of that strength when she’s this close to the finish line.

  She heads towards her building and Lucien, ever the gentleman, opens the door for her as she mumbles a weak ‘thanks’. We step inside, a series of stairs leading to each floor that she begins to trudge up, letting her composure slip a bit now that we’re off of the street.

  “Cambria, please,” Dorian finally asks, his voice strained. “Let me at least help now that there’s no one around?”

  But the stubborn girl shakes her head, gripping the railing and tugging herself up slowly, one step at a time. “Walls have eyes,” she mumbles with a heavy breath, sweating and pale. “Nowhere is safe but home.”

  I grind my teeth, staying close behind her in case she starts to fall. I share a look with Lucien who’s as stony faced as before, though his could be just as much from the surreal nightmare we woke up in. One never knows what’s going on in that head of his.

  Blessedly, she approaches a door. Fumbling for her keys, she gets it open on the third attempt and stumbles inside. We quickly slam it shut behind us and I flip the lock, Lucien giving up all sense of pretense to pick her up before she collapses to the ground. She doesn’t fight now that we’re away from prying eyes, closing hers in relief as we move further into her studio.

  “No passing out on us,” I demand, gently patting her cheek to keep her conscious. “You made it this far; it’d be some real shit to die now.”

  Her eyes flutter open, glazed over and out of it. “Can’t give them the satisfaction,” she agrees on a mumble and I smirk.

  “Damn straight.”

  Lucien moves to lay her on her bed at one side of the room, but I redirect him to the table so all of the blood doesn’t ruin it. The girl certainly doesn’t look like she can afford new sheets, let alone a bed.

  I whip out a pocket knife, passing it over to him. He apologizes as he cuts a line down her shirt to assess the damage and it’s far more gruesome than I gave her credit for.

  Her shirt clings to the wound and she hisses in pain as Lucien peels it away. The same symbol that was burned into our hands was literally carved into hers, and it looks like they went all the way to the bone. Dorian appears with a wet washcloth and a bowl of water, adjusting her carefully to slip a towel underneath.

  Lucien starts cleaning the wound on her chest first while Dorian and I take care of her hands. Between the three of us, we get her bandaged up, but it takes far longer than I would have liked; she just kept bleeding through them. She’s far too pale and has completely passed out at this stage despite my attempts to keep her awake, so at least it’s a small mercy that she isn’t in pain for the time being.

  The blood has run down to stain parts of her hair, adding a morbid dye that mats it together despite my attempts to rinse it out. But a bloody rag and a kitchen table don’t make for the best environment and I doubt she could survive getting jostled into the bathtub next too.

  After all is said and done, I lift her up as carefully as possible to lay her in bed, nothing left to do but hope for the best. Turning to the others, coated in this thief’s blood and at a loss of what to do now, I release a shaky breath.

  “So...that just happened,” Dorian attempts in a pitiful shot at humor, beating me to it as he washes up in the kitchen sink as much as possible.

  “Which was what exactly?” Lucien grimaces, stripping off his shirt and glaring at the bloody stains as if they personally offend him.

  “We got robbed by a fae and then she adopted us,” Dorian chirps, enjoying this far too fucking much.

  “She can’t adopt us, we’re nearly thirty!” I snap, Cambria not even flinching at the rising volume around her. “And Lucien’s even older than us, so no. Just...no.”

  Dorian shrugs. “She claimed responsibility of us, which is pretty much like getting custody. Same thing.”

  “No. I’m not doing this,” Lucien booms, s
torming off towards the door and yanking it open.

  As soon as he does, Cambria whimpers in her sleep and the bandage around her chest starts staining red as the wound reopens. Dorian glares at Lucien and yanks him back inside, slamming and locking the door while I look on at my mild mannered, geeky friend in surprise. I’ve never seen Dorian this hostile, especially towards Lucien. Honestly, I’m surprised he had the balls to manhandle the psycho, but more so that Lucien tolerated it.

  “That woman is nearly dead because of us, and you’re just going to leave without a second thought? Why the hell do you think they marked us like this, Lucien; decoration? We all bear the same mark as Cambria now, and she has three, one for each of us. We try to leave, she suffers for it. That’s what it means to claim responsibility. You’d think with how you’re always preaching, you’d know this without me having to spell it out for you.”

  Dorian storms off to get a new wash cloth and bandage, coming back to fix Cambria up again, all the while pointedly ignoring us. I look at Lucien in shock, not really knowing how else to react to everything that’s happening far too fast and way more intensely than I’m used to dealing with.

  “So what happens now?”

  I wait for Dorian to look at me, because if any of us has a shot of wrapping their minds around things, it’s him. “Now we pray she wakes up, because we are just as tied to her as she is to us.”

  Chapter 5

  Cambria

  “Why the hell didn’t she just let us die? Why’d she come back for us knowing this was going to happen to her?” Atlas growls.

  I fight my groggy brain that’s still swimming in that stage of not quite asleep, but not quite awake yet either. Hissing in a sharp breath as pain lances through my chest, I start to sit up as the reality of what a colossally stupid mistake I made settles into my bones just as deeply as my new marks.

  “Because she may be an idiot, but she isn’t that much of a bitch,” I declare with a groan, tossing the blanket back and pulling myself up. “A bleeding heart, if you will.”

  Dorian huffs out a humored breath as he comes over and offers me a hand. This time, I gladly take it to help stand. My head is absolutely swimming and I’m not sure I could stand on my own yet if I tried, but most importantly, there aren’t any other fae around to witness it.

  Those bitches are fucking brutal about that stuff.

  “Thanks.”

  “No, we should be the ones thanking you,” he instantly replies. “Sorry we followed you, I really didn’t imagine something like this would happen,” he starts rambling and I cut him off.

  “No use crying over spilled wine. What’s done is done.”

  Lucien comes into view as I head towards the bathroom. “Don’t you mean over spilled milk?”

  I give him a confused look. “Why the hell would you cry over milk? It’s milk. Wine on the other hand is a completely valid reason.”

  Ignoring them all, I lock myself in the bathroom, relieve myself, and struggle through a shower. Once all the remaining gore is gone and I’m feeling more clear-headed, I finally hazard a look.

  Both hands, now scabbed over, have identical symbols. A series of twisting lines without a beginning or an end, similar to a Celtic knot. I trace the far more painful one over my heart, still raw and tender.

  Thank fuck there were only three of them. I don’t think I could have survived another.

  My skin is still far too pale from all of the blood loss, but I’m standing. Alive. And I don’t have their blood on my hands, so I’m just going to chalk this one up as a wash, because it’s a far cry from a win.

  Wrapping myself in a towel, I head out to my, well, not bedroom, but the one room that isn’t the bathroom, and tug some clothes from a basket. I struggle through donning my bra and a shirt before turning around to a blushing face. Dorian is trying to politely inspect the ceiling while Atlas tilts his head to check out my ass shamelessly. Lucien scowls as he comes over to tug the hem of my shirt down to cover my panties, tossing a reproachful look at Atlas. I have to fight a laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing is, but the pain lancing through my chest keeps my expression relatively sober.

  “Did you bring a chastity belt with you too?” I tease, unable to stop myself.

  Dorian snickers right alongside Atlas as he glares at them both. “In case you children forgot, there are people out there ready to carve into strangers and slit our throats. So maybe stop thinking with your dicks for five seconds and focus on the bigger problem.”

  “Sorry, sir,” I mock salute. “I promise to quit thinking with my dick.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he goes to sit in the chair by the table while I tug on some shorts and try to curb my sarcasm. “If all it takes is some ass to get you flustered, you’re in for a rude awakening. Fae are incredibly open, voyeuristic, and typically shameless.”

  “Is that why your walk of shame was such a big deal?” Lucien asks and I narrow my eyes at him.

  “Exactly.” I wince and rub at my stinging chest. “Thank you so much for reminding me.”

  Atlas gestures to the refrigerator. “You don’t have any food,” he accuses. “Not even any ice.”

  I roll my eyes. “Ice isn’t a necessity, nor is it food.”

  He gives me a weird look, confusion obvious in his dark green gaze. “It’s free. You have a sink right here,” he points out, gesturing emphatically.

  I fill up the thin metal tray and pop it in the otherwise empty freezer. “There, now you can quit your bitching. You’ll have ice in an hour or two, ‘ya big baby. After what happened yesterday, I think there are a few things that rank a little higher than what is or is not in my kitchen.”

  Dorian frowns. “It’s actually been two days; you were passed out for a while. And we didn’t want to leave you to go in search of food until we understood what was going on better.” As if on cue, his stomach rumbles. He faces me with bright blue eyes, pleading like a hungry puppy.

  I scowl, rummaging in a cabinet and toss each of them a piece of gum. “You’ve been here two days and you’re already trying to eat me out of house and home.”

  “Do fae not need to eat?” Lucien asks and I can see what it costs him to voice the question, like by doing so he’s accepting fae exist and everything he’s ever known might be under scrutiny.

  I try to soften my tone. While my life was just thrown for a damn loop, so was theirs, but on a much more intense level. It will be a hard adjustment for all of us, but if my gut is correct, hardest on Lucien.

  “We do, I just need to go shopping. Bright side, I slept until payday, so we can go pick up my check and grab some groceries.”

  He rubs his temples, elbows braced on his knees and head bowed. “I can’t, I just,” he starts and stops several times. “Spell things out for me here, Cambria. Please.”

  Sighing, I sit on my bed and Dorian joins me while Atlas chooses to lean against the wall. It’s not like I exactly have the place furnished for company.

  “If a fae reveals themselves to a human or a human to our world, there are three options.” I tick them off on my fingers. “Mind wipe so they forget, kill them, or the accused can accept responsibility.”

  “And Illiah was on vacation, so no forgetting?” Atlas adds and I nod.

  Lucien gestures for me to continue, not looking up.

  “The symbols aren’t just a mark of shame for the fae so that everyone can see how they fucked up, but it tethers us together. So if you try to leave without me, your symbol will activate and give me a stab of pain as a warning. If you actually tell any other human, well,” I trail off, not sure if he can handle anymore, but at his glare quickly realize he’s the sort of man that would prefer a clear set of rules.

  “Then we get dragged in front of the queen and she makes a huge public display of torturing us to death to emphasize the importance of secrecy. It’s pretty fuckin’ brutal.”

  I flop back on my bed and throw an arm over my eyes. I’ve only witnessed two of those ceremonies before and they s
ure as shit make a lasting impression. I know I checked the clearing before crossing, but I was in such a stupid hurry that I was careless. Now look where that got me.

  “So why save us instead of letting us die?” Atlas asks again. “Why put yourself on the line for people that you not only don’t know, but just robbed? I still want my cash back, by the way.”

  I don’t remove my arm right away, hiding from reality for just a few moments more. “I told you, I’m not a heartless bitch. And sorry, but that money’s gone; rent.” I then tell them about my mad dash to get enough money to keep a roof over my head and back here in time.

  I sit up when Lucien asks in a voice that’s deadly calm. “So we can’t go back? We’re trapped here and regarded as nothing more than your pets?”

  His tone is dangerous, one I recognize from home that instantly brings back a flood of painful memories. I swallow and push through them, reminding myself of what everyone is dealing with here and that he’s only human. Dorian seems to pick up on my unease and ends up stealing one of my hands, softly tracing the healing mark I’m not sure he even realizes is his. It actually works though to settle me down and breathe easier.

  Oh boy, I adopted an emotional support human. That’ll sound real impressive at the next family dinner.

  “Of course you can go back, how else do you think I’m going to pick up my check?” Lucien’s eyes snap up to mine optimistically so I tread carefully with my next words. “But we need to stay together. You can’t all go home and me stay here, just like I can’t be over there for work and leave you in my apartment.”

  “What’s the range?” he asks, leaning forward with enthusiastic intrigue and I try not to let it sting how anxious he is to bail.

  “We’ll have to test it out, but it’s mostly an intent thing. If we’re all sleeping and you sneak out with the intention of trying to get as far away as possible versus if you plan to just jog down to the store and back.”