"But Apollo hasn't even shifted yet. If they were after a dragon, the world knows Taranis has returned. Why not go after one of the knights?" Lachlan demanded, crossing his arms so Valentine wouldn't see how much his hands were shaking.
"Too hard of a target," Valentine answered immediately. "And Apollo is a famous alchemist. A prodigy. They might have thought he would be more sympathetic to their cause and want him to work with them."
"Yeah, Apollo doesn't exactly strike me as the team player type," Lachlan grunted.
"Hence the kidnapping. This is good news," Valentine said and stepped away from the body, done with his examination.
Lachlan's fists clenched. "Howis this good news?"
"It means they won't want to kill him straight away," Cosimo said, sounding tired. "Not unless he gives them no other choice."
Valentine and Lachlan shared a look. Apollo was going to be furious when he woke up, which wouldn't put him in a listening mood.
"Find some of his hair, Cosimo. Do whatever tracking spell you need to do. We need to find him," Lachlan said and prayed to whatever gods would listen that Apollo didn't piss off his kidnappers until they got there.
7
Apollo's eyes felt like they had been plucked out, rolled in sand, and shoved back into his head. He ran his face against the soft velvet under his cheek and realized he was in yet another unfamiliar bed. Twice in a day seemed like a new record.
He hoped that he would open his eyes and see the retro movie poster ofHighlanderand that everything was a bad dream. He knew he wouldn't because he couldn't smell Lachie.
My mate! What did they do to my mate?his dragon raged within him. In his mind's eye, Apollo saw Lachie hanging upside down, blood dripping from his side. Horror screeched through his veins, and he tried to force his body to move. It was too much like his mother's accident. He kept those memories in a very small box in the void of his mind. Seeing Lachlan hurt had made every fear in that box burst open.
Apollo needed to find Lachlan. He opened his eyes, and they stung with all the gold they were suddenly staring at.
The room had stone walls and no windows. It was lit with antique lamps and looked like he had somehow ended up in a bedroom in Versailles. There were gilt-framed oil paintings full of alchemical symbology. The bed had a canopy of goldenlace hanging over it and a brilliant golden sun painted on the roof above it. The bedspread was a gold and blue brocade with French lilies on it.
"What in the Louis the Fourteenth?" Apollo muttered. He half expected D'Artagnan to come in, wearing a puffy shirt and rapier.
He got out of bed on unsteady feet. He was still in Lachlan's clothes, but they were stained with his blood. He touched the throbbing wound on the edge of his temple and found someone had patched him up. So they were friendly kidnappers. Good to know.
Apollo opened a gold-handled door and found a small bathroom. Someone had laid out clothes for him that were precisely his size. The hair on the back of his neck rose. They were bespoke.
"This is getting creepier by the second," Apollo muttered, locking the bathroom door behind him. He checked the shower, the light fittings, and under the toilet seat for cameras before he stripped off and got in the shower.
The shower hadChrysopoeiaskin and hair products laid out for him. They were a cosmetics company that charged absolutely obscene prices for their products. They were pulling out all the stops to make sure Apollo was cared for. It made no sense to kidnap him and then lavish expensive products on him.
Apollo may have been weirded out, but he hated being dirty, so he used them all. He couldn't focus unless he was in water at least twice a day. He was sure he would think of an escape plan when he didn't smell like blood and sweat.
He needed to figure out what the hell the Sanguis Vitae wanted with him. If they meant to kill him, he would already be dead. And if they wanted him to suffer, they could have tossed him in a dirty cell . They clearly needed something from himbecause they had wanted him a prisoner, but they wanted him to be a comfortable one.
Apollo dried off and dressed in the clothes that had been left for him. Black trousers fit him like a glove, and the golden tan shirt highlighted his golden hair.
"They really have a thing for gold," he whispered to himself. It was unsurprising. The history of alchemy was tied closely to gold, whether it was the metaphysical kind or the making of it. Gold was incorruptible and unchanging and was always represented by the sun.
Apollo looked about his rooms for cameras and found none. There was alchemical symbology everywhere. Whoever the Sanguis Vitae claimed to be in modern times, they had the design taste of ancient alchemists. Apollo's rooms in the Greatdrakes manor also had nods to his craft, but he was less ostentatious about it.
He tried the handle of the other door in the room and wasn't surprised that it was locked. He needed to figure a way out. There were no entries or exits into the room except for the one. They would have to come for him at some point.
Apollo had never met a person he couldn't charm when he really tried. He only needed to keep himself alive until he could see a way of escape or have someone come and rescue him.
Apollo rubbed at the ache in his chest. His family would come for him. Would Lachlan? If he was alive, he might find him just to kick his ass for not listening to him. The ache got worse.
"Just breathe. He opened his eyes, remember?" Apollo tried to tell himself. He should have listened to Lachlan when he said he was in danger, but he had been so embarrassed, he couldn't face him. He should have dragged Lachlan into his bed and thanked him properly for the rescue.
Claim mate, his dragon prompted.
I can't claim him if he's not here, you insufferable ass. Apollo had made so many mistakes with Lachlan, and now he might never get the chance to make anything right between them. He would never get to kiss those ridiculously perfect lips of his.
