Page 5 of Replaced Mate

“Azazel said they were trying to traumatize you, so he could mold you into what he wanted you to be.”

He scoffed at my soft explanation. “Well, I was definitely traumatized—kidnapping and torture are pretty solid choices for messing someone up.”

He gave me a smirk that reminded me so much of his brother I couldn’t help but return it.

He led me into one of the smaller houses when we got far enough from the main encampment, and I was shocked to find that it looked so much better inside than out.

This studio apartment was dimly lit, but I could pick out the small kitchenette and bathroom. A twin bed was tucked neatly into the corner, and blankets were drawn up. Instead of a TV or the typical entertainment center, there’s a desk with five monitors set up, each showing a different scene from around the camp.

Auren pushed the aviators up to rest atop his head as I took everything in, and when he turned back to me, it clicked.

Eyes like Michaelson’s stared back at me, but they’re… wrong.

“I’m light sensitive.”

I realized how hard I was staring when he filled the silence with an explanation, so I hurriedly looked away.

His eyes were scarred, crisscrossing lines of raised and darkened skin alike circling each one. It’s a subtle thing, almost missable if the room had been a little darker, and I was glad Sariel hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“I thought we could pretty much heal from anything,” I commented.

“Hybrids, sure. The rest of us aren’t quite as durable. Those damn wolves poured some kind of acid into them, and… well, I’ll spare you the gory details. They’d grown back when I woke up, but the scarring never disappeared.”

Grown back?

Nausea roiled through me at the idea, and I felt Sariel yank on the bond immediately.What’s wrong?

He sounded more aggressive than was really necessary, and I could almost feel him take a long breath before following up.Are you okay?

I’m fine. We’re just talking.

Distrust lingered, but it wasn't directed at me, so I tried not to be offended.

“I’m sorry that that happened to you.”

Auren shrugged at that, his broad frame bending to fish out two water bottles from his mini-fridge before he handed me one. It gave me something to do with my hands as he dropped down in the office chair in front of his desk; I followed suit, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I survived.” He typed something on his keyboard before turning back to me with a small smile. “And I look way cooler this way, right?”

It’s boyish and sweet, a sharp contrast to the persona he’d been wearing since I met him. The smile faded as fast as it came, though, and he took a long drink.

“While I love bonding with my brother’s other half, we do need to talk. I wish Sariel was willing to sit in with us, but… maybe he’ll come around sooner rather than later, and we can catch him up.”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all. Everyone and their mother knew that “we need to talk” was never an intro to anything good. While Auren couldn’t exactly dump me, the words sent a spike of anxiety through me anyway.

“I’m sure you’ve already put together that Azazel was behind the sudden declaration of war on the Free Kingdom. From what we’ve been able to gather, it looks like the only one who tried to vote no on the motion was—”

“Elias Olskin?”

I interrupted after remembering the man’s face when his counterparts had had me strung up on stage for my execution, but Auren cocked an eyebrow in response.

“Actually, it was Lucifer’s appointed representative, Barimuz. I don’t know what angle they’re working since they normally just vote with the majority, but it surprised me. Elias is being blackmailed by Francesca, or I’m sure he’d have voted no as well. It’s hard to preach anti-hybrid rhetoric when your lover is a witch; she’s had him by the balls ever since she managed to get it on video. Not to mention the fact that every other rumor is trying to paint him as a Resistance sympathizer, so he can’t afford to step out of line.”

This information sent my mind spinning, but Auren just carried on like it was no more interesting than the weather.

“When the Council tried demanding the Free Kingdom’s hybrids to keep the peace, they responded by having some of their spies drop cover and leveling three of their isolation centers. Hundreds of supernatural prisoners escaped in the chaos.”

When he finished, something pinged on his computer, and he turned, the clatter of keys too loud in the silence of his apartment. Then, several pages opened all at once, mugshots and small biographies included. Their sentences were at the bottom—a series of bullet points for some—but the one thing they all had in common was…

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