Spellbound (21 page)

“You forgot this,” he said coolly.

“Oh. Thanks,” Elion said as he reached for it cautiously. “You didn’t have to bring it all the way over here so late.”

“Couldn’t have you getting cold, could we?” Malachi chuckled, eyeing Elion like he was a hunk of meat and stepping in without waiting for an invitation, or for Elion to even step aside.

“How did you know where my apartment was?” Elion asked. He swallowed against the heartbeat pounding in his throat as he followed the man’s eyes to the stacks of scattered papers and knew the exact second that Malachi was done playing his game.

The larger man took calm strides across the room and thumbed through Elion’s paperwork like he had every right. Elion quickly deliberated on his options. His cell phone was on the couch behind Malachi and his issued weapons on the other side of the room. He could slip out the door, and then what? Hope Malachi didn’t run away before he could get back up? He knew that while he wouldn’t go down easily, without backup or a weapon, Malachi could easily shift and rip his throat out.

“You’re too nosy for your own good, little elf,” Malachi growled. “It’s just as well, I guess. That game was getting old fast. I told Victor you weren’t as dumb as you looked.”

“So what now?” Elion asked bluntly. Malachi arched a thick brow and smirked.

“Now, you and I are going to go for a trip to get that amulet, and if you’re a good boy, Victor may be lenient.”

“What makes you think I know where it is?”

“Don’t play stupid, it’s not a good look on you and I have little patience left. Victor’s made me keep my nose clean at that awful fucking place for far too long and I’m sick of it,” he spat.

“I won’t tell you where it is,” Elion said firmly.

The corner of Malachi’s lips quirked upwards and he cocked his head like a curious pup. “Figured as much. That’s why we planned a little incentive,” Malachi hummed thoughtfully as he began to step into Elion’s space. “We’re going to go for a trip and you’re going to-”

Malachi’s orders were cut off by a pained howl when Elion’s elbow met his rib with as much strength as he could muster. His knee connected with the man’s solar plexus and gave Elion just enough time to turn before fingers knotted in his hair and yanked harshly. His eyes watered and his jaw tightened against the way his throat was forcibly exposed. The unseen fingers held him firmly and a deep, unfamiliar voice in his ear made him feel sick.

“Enough. I told you to get him and move, not play games,” the voice barked. Malachi lowered his chin apologetically before shoving himself to his feet. “He is a feisty little thing, isn’t he?” The voice chuckling lowly was the last thing Elion heard before there was a blinding pain in his temples and his vision blackened.

~~

When Elion opened his eyes he realized that, hazy vision aside, he was in a very dimly lit room that smelled like mildew. There was an intense wet itch on the side of his face, but found his hands were bound when he tried to reach up. He groaned when he attempted to sit forward to see better, his head spinning and stomach threatening to purge itself.

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice ordered and Elion found himself whimpering quietly in relief, though it was short-lived.

“Stavros,” Elion whined, struggling against the tight binding around his wrists.

“Don’t move, Elion. You could make your injuries worse.”

“He showed up. I thought it was you and I opened the door-”

“I know. You’re an idiot for this,” Stavros sighed, defeated, and it made Elion ache in a whole new way. “What were you thinking? Do you ever use that head of yours?”

“I got more done in two weeks than you did in two years,” Elion retorted, though his words were slurred, no doubt an indicator of a head injury. “Maybe if you wouldn’t have kept fucking it up-”

“Me? I fucked up your ridiculous plan?” Stavros snorted. Elion desperately wanted to see his face, but through the shadows and blurred vision all he got was an outline of the shackled man slumped against the wall of whatever musty room they were in.

“Yes,
you
. Mikhail and I had a
plan,
Stavros. If anyone’s the idiot here it’s you for not seeing this from the start!” Elion accused. “Maybe if you could come down from your fucking pedestal you would have seen
something
, but no, an idiotic little brat is the one that put the pieces together, huh?”

“Some job you did,” Stavros hissed.

“If you would have done yours, this would never have happened to begin with. Did you know it was Victor the whole time? Did you know he was using you like a puppet?”

“Shut up,” Stavros growled.

“Or what? You’ll do what, Stavros? So tell me what you could possibly do while you’re sitting there tied up and helpless.”

Stavros was silent. Elion slumped against the wall behind him and tried to breathe around nausea and the pulsating throb in his head. The room was too dark for him to see the door, but the sharp squeal as it was opened told him that it was heavy and metal. Boots carried across the floor without pause and calloused fingers grabbed Elion’s chin and forced him to look up.

“Let’s go,” Malachi ordered, unfazed by the blood smearing onto him.

“Let him go,” Stavros commanded. The harsh hold on Elion’s chin was gone and Elion’s eyes darted towards the voice. The burned light that flowed in from the open door was enough to illuminate Stavros. His arms and legs were shackled to the wall and his face was bloodied, yet he still managed to look lethal. Elion knew that drooling over how beautiful Stavros looked with a wild fire in his eyes really wasn’t appropriate for the moment, but Stavros always made everything so complicated.

“Do you really think that’s how this is going to work?” Malachi drawled. Elion flinched when he felt cold metal being pressed just below his jaw. “I run this show, not you.”

“Don’t tell him anything,” Elion ordered, earning him tightened fingers in his hair. His scalp burned so intensely that he expected the flesh to tear from his skull.

“Elion,” Stavros warned.

“Fuck off, Stavros. I’m sick of your shit,” Elion rasped. Malachi’s chuckle made him cringe, but the flood of pain that surged through him as he was pulled upright overtook it.

“Seems your pretty face still hasn’t gotten you anywhere,” Malachi hummed as he gripped the binding around Elion’s wrists. Elion wanted to spit in Malachi’s face, wanted to take the enchanted rope that was burrowing into his wrists and wrap it around his throat until it collapsed, because those few simple words made Elion
furious.

“This is so cliché bad guy,” Elion taunted. “Can’t wait to meet the stud that has everyone’s panties in a bunch.” Malachi tightened his grip at that and Elion smirked through swollen lips as he was dragged forward. “Keep your mouth shut,” he said to Stavros who simply nodded in the shadows.

Elion was shoved into a rickety wooden chair in a room with a few harsh lights and a wheeled cart in the corner. He closed his aching eyes and tried to feel for the strumming pulse of magic, but quickly realized the heavy air was laced with draining magic of its own.

“Your earth magic won’t work in here,” the unfamiliar voice from earlier said from behind him. It was a calm tone, authoritative, but soothing in the most haunting of ways. “It was good thinking, though.”

“What do you want?” Elion questioned, his shoulders tensing as the man came into view. He was taller than Elion by at least a head, but he was much thinner. Despite his lanky frame Elion knew that he possessed a strength that was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe it was the way he held himself proudly despite the thick, jagged scars running across his face and through his left eye. Maybe it was the way he stood in front of Elion, curiously studying him with his hands resting in his pockets as if they were having a casual meeting, void of absolutely any apprehension.

“You know what I want.”

“I won’t tell you anything.” Elion’s tongue darted over his bottom lip and he grimaced at the coppery tang that hit his tongue. Victor scrunched his nose and reached out without hesitation, running his thumb over Elion’s bloody cheek before popping the digit in his mouth and sucking with a content hum.

“Malachi has such a temper. Always making a mess of things,” Victor said fondly. “It’s so hard to break him, unlike Stavros.”

“You didn’t break him.”

Victor smiled, all fang and malicious intent. “You’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?” he mused.

“I’m a riot,” Elion scoffed. “You’re not going to get anything out of either of us.”

Victor hummed thoughtfully and crouched down to study Elion’s face with stormy eyes. “We’ll see. Let’s begin, shall we?”

~~

Stavros knew that fighting the shackles was pointless, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He could feel the bones in his wrist straining and the flesh tearing, the blood only making his attempts worse by chafing it further.

He should have seen it coming, but he had let himself slip. For the first time, he had let his guard down and now he was in a position he swore he would never be again. And of course, it was because of Elion. Because, he was being torn apart watching him parade around with that bastard for weeks; watching them flirt and filthy lips being pressed to Elion’s flesh. Because when Elion had called him and told him what was happening, that his own father and partner had gone behind his back to dig into his past, he had become so furious, so hurt, that he couldn’t breathe for a moment, because he didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want them to see how weak he had been and how stupid he had been not to see the truth sooner.             

He let his emotion take over after he disconnected their call and it blinded him to the danger around him. He wasn’t even aware of it until he was being knocked down and out without a chance to even fight back, and when he had opened his eyes, he couldn’t even try. Not when Victor was crouched in front of him smiling softly with his fingertips stroking Stavros’ cheek. It was the sound of Victor’s voice that shook him back to reality. All of the things he said Stavros had heard before; how he was so beautiful for a whore, how he ruined everything and everyone he came into contact with, how he should have just stayed down like the good bitch he was. Then Stavros did fight back, earning himself a bloodied face and screaming ribs. Then Elion’s unconscious form was being dumped in a corner and he felt truly defeated.

When the heavy door opened a short time later, Stavros stopped fighting the bindings, his limbs numb yet somehow managing to still pulsate with pain. Elion was dropped a few feet from him, barely conscious. The door closed again and Elion made a choked sound and slumped into himself.

“You have terrible taste in men,” he mumbled.

“I do,” Stavros agreed, softly.

“Don’t tell them anything. No matter what,” Elion said before going limp.

~~

Elion took every beating with as much grace as he could muster. He had been trained for this from childhood on; he had been readied for the destruction that war brought to the mind and body. With every blow to his already weakened body, he gritted his teeth and took it until the beings in the room began to bellow with frustration and changed their tactics. They asked him before every lash of a barbed whip, their current toy of choice, a simple question,
where
, is all they insisted they wanted to know, but Elion wasn’t dense. He knew that either way they would kill him. Keeping his mouth shut would only prolong it, but he refused to die a traitor to Stavros or those that would die in the aftermath.

Victor liked to talk. As Elion struggled to stay conscious, the man would ramble about the things he had done to Stavros. He laughed as he relayed how Stavros had sounded as he sobbed and begged for Victor to stop hurting him, and how pathetic he had looked chained to his own bed, thrashing around like a feral animal. Victor looked Elion square in the eye when Elion asked,
why,
around the blood oozing from his mouth. Victor had looked genuinely taken back, like Elion should have known without question.

“They tell my kind when we are allowed to feed, how much we are allowed to take from those swine
.
That amulet is my birthright. It’s
mine.
It’s mine to reclaim and do what my ancestors have failed!” he roared, fists clenched and nostrils flaring. “All he had to do was behave, that’s all I asked of him. I kept him blind to everything and this is how I was repaid!” he bellowed, hovering his scarred face a hair’s width from Elion’s. “I treated him like a prince!”

“You hurt him,” Elion spat.

“I punished him when it was necessary,” Victor said pointedly, looking genuinely offended.

“I won’t tell you anything,” Elion slurred, accepting that he was losing his battle with consciousness.

Elion was hardly aware of the moment that he was dumped onto the hard floor once more; the number of times having been lost during his periods of unconsciousness. They had stopped binding him hours ago or maybe it was days or even years at that point. There wasn’t sense in it, he was only growing weaker and they knew it. Elion felt the warmth of a body next to him and tried to focus on the voice calling his name like a beacon in the dense fog he was lost in.

“Open your eyes, brat,” Stavros ordered and Elion could have sworn that his voice cracked, but of course, that could have been a trick of his mind because Stavros simply didn’t crack in any way.