Page 11 of Fated Exile

Some part of me expects to find a monster, snarling and fighting his bonds.

Instead I find only Bastian. Sitting on the daybed, head bowed, hands bound together behind his back. His ankles are tied together as well, as are his knees. Every knot is threaded through a rope that leads to the wall, where a few leftover nails from the DIY job on the house have anchored everything.

My heart twists at the sight of him, anxiety dropping down to my stomach like a leaded ball. His long, silky black hair flows over his shoulder as he dips his head down, his arms straining against the ropes tying him in place. In a low voice he murmurs, "Are you sure you want to be here with me?"

"Yes." Closing the door behind me, I step into the room. "I don't know what's happening to you, Bastian, but we're going to find out. Together."

He looks up at the sound of my voice.

His hair falls back from his face, long strands settling against the lean, taut muscles of his scarred fighter's body.

And two eyes meet mine, fear and anger in their depths. Their red, glowing depths.

Bastian's lips peel back from his teeth, and a snarl leaves his throat, low and guttural. The sound of it sends shivers up my spine and lifts goosebumps across my arms. It takes all my courage not to step back, leave the room, and slam the door behind me.

In a low, threatening voice he says, "I'll kill you."

Six

Delilah

"I'll kill you," he repeats, the whine that edges his words twisting my heart in two, his torn emotions surging towards me through my heightened hybrid senses. "I—I can't stop myself, Delilah. I don't even know if these ropes will bind me. You have toleave."

"What's going on?" I take a step towards him, my awareness rippling out. His emotions are taut and heightened: anger, fear, pain, and most of all, an overwhelming sense of shame. Bastian flinches back from me as I approach him, even as he continues snarling at me, his glowing red eyes disturbing. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I fixed Kieran, and I healed a severed mating bond, whatever that means. I'm sure whatever this is—"

"I can't be fixed!" His voice rises, in panic as much as fury. Pulling away from me, he snaps out, "You should go, Delilah. Now. Before something terrible happens."

The heartbreaking confession he made to me echoes in my mind. Licking my lips, I stop a few feet away from him, considering my options. I pitch my voice low, trying to drain the tension from the room, as I tell him, "This isn't the arena. You haven't been drugged by the vampires—you're far from their captivity, and completely safe here."

"I know that."

"So you also know that I'm not your sister," I tell him, wincing as I add, "and you're not going to kill me."

Bastian's breathing grows rapid and shallow, his pupils dilating as I take another step towards him. Twisting back from me as far as his bonds will allow, he whimpers. "You don't know that. I could do anything. To anyone."

"I'm not so sure about that." I want him to be calm before I enter his mind, like I entered Kieran's, but it doesn't look like that will be possible. "I think you're damaged, Bastian. You've been drugged, hypnotized, and—and abused." I swallow, not mentioning the sexual side of some of the abuse I suspect has happened to him. "But none of that means you're broken, or unpredictable. It just means that it may take a while to get you back to normal."

"I attacked you." His eyes fall closed, and even though I sense the danger, I step closer to him. Close enough that, if he broke the bonds holding him tight, he could reach out and grab me. Hurt me. Yet I feel no fear. "I could attack you again, Delilah. Maybe even kill you."

"I'll take my chances."

"You shouldn't."

"I get to decide that," I tell him, voice sharpening. "Who I help, who I heal, who I forgive—all of that is up to me. I've seen a good man inside you, Bastian, and I've felt him too. I'm not going to give up on him. Not until I'm sure that he can't be saved."

Bastian breathes in and out, his lungs rising and falling raggedly. His arms strain, fighting the restraints, and for a moment I think I might've lost him. Then he relaxes all at once, the fight going out of him—and when he opens his eyes to look at me, they've returned to the bright amber they normally are, the eerie red glow gone from his gaze.

"What are you going to do?" His voice trembles, and he licks his lips, arms sagging against the restraints that hold them behind his back. "Whatever it is, don't—don't free me."

"You must've lost half the feeling to your arms by now," I point out, wincing in sympathy at the pale, bloodless color of his normally brown skin. "Let me at least bind them in front of your chest, instead of in the back."

He frowns at me, dark brows forming a harsh slash across his forehead. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"Or the first step of many. We can't keep you like this for long," I point out. "Eventually, someone will have to unbind you. Better that it be me—the wolf-witch hybrid who defeated you in the arena—than someone else."

His mouth curves up at this reminder of how we met. "I probablycouldhave beaten you. I just wasn't expecting a scrawny new fighter to be so hard."

"So I can untie you for a few seconds?"

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