A literal hell on earth.
“How long were you there?”
“Too long,” you said mildly. “And then I was given a choice—sacrifice my bloodborn body and act as a courier of souls or serve as a soldier in my new master’s Nephilim army.”
I knew which one you’d chosen. Only I didn’t know why.
“What does your mother have to do with all of this?”
You gave a bitter chuckle. “I suspect it was Lena who seduced the Roman soldiers into ravaging my beloved.”
My breath caught. I didn’t want to believe that charming woman I’d met just a few hours ago could do something so cruel.
“Why would she do that?”
“She was furious that the Romans negotiated our captivity with my father without her blessing. She’s a god in her own right. The Roman politicians and their gods dismissed her wishes entirely. She was also angry at my father for being a coward and submitting to Roman rule—he was punished as a traitor after we left—which meant she’d lost not only her children, but her human companion as well. Lena, knowing I was destined to expand an empire she’d come to loathe, wished to turn me against them. She used to tell me love is for fools and peasants. I was the former.”
I crawled onto your lap and wrapped my arms around your neck. “You’re not a fool.”
You pet my head and drew me closer. “I never wanted to tell you this story, Orlando, but I did so because I want you to understand who my mother is and how she operates. I believe she’d use you to get to me, so you must be vigilant in repelling her. Whatever she promises, she’s lying. If she comes to you, call for me with everything you have. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Henri,” I said solemnly.
I remembered then the card she’d given me. I went to the bathroom and found my wallet, still in my pants from earlier that night. I pulled out the card and studied the inscription for a moment before bringing it to you.
“Before the show, she gave me this.”
You took one look at the card and scowled. You used the flame from one of the candles to burn it right in front of my eyes.
“Did you memorize the words?” You searched my face.
“No.” I dropped my gaze, unable to face you. “What was your lover’s name?”
“Lior.”
You said it with such deep longing and regret. Even before you shared this story, I could tell that you were a lonely man. I wondered now if your isolation was by choice, because you couldn’t risk having to go through that kind of grief again. I’d never leave you. I knew that deep down. And if you left me, I’d never get over it. As far as I was concerned, I was yours for life.
We sat there for a few more minutes, until at last, I broke the silence with, “That was the saddest and most fucked-up story I’ve ever heard. Let’s go to bed.”
You followed me to the bedroom where I undressed you and lovingly tucked you in. That night I held you as you tossed and turned and murmured in your sleep. Maybe you were trapped on the bloody battlefield or still searching for your lost lover. I should have admitted it to you that night, or the morning after, but I didn’t. It was the only time I’d ever lied to you.
I memorized what was on the back of your mother’s card—not to defy you, Henri—but because I believed those words might one day save us.
26
Henri
Acouple of weeks passed, and because Lena didn’t make another appearance, I began to think we were safe. Perhaps I was only fooling myself.
Your innate curiosity caused you to question me at the most unexpected times. For instance, we were lying on the beach one afternoon, soaking up the sun when you turned to me and asked, “Was Lior the masseur you told me about?”
You seemed comfortable using his name, and I was surprised to discover that talking about him didn’t pain me quite like it used to. I raised myself on one elbow and let my eyes trail over your sleek, sun-kissed body.
“Yes. Lior was a caretaker at heart, and he’d often oil me up before a sparring match. Afterward, he’d massage the tension from my muscles. I had a very beautiful body.”
You smiled and studied my bare chest, perhaps imagining it. Xavier was an attractive man and kept his body in good condition, but I’d been a warrior. I’d earned my physique through training and combat. Perhaps I was old-fashioned, but strength that was hard won in battle or through labor in the fields looked different than what could be accomplished in the gym.
“And is that how you learned about essential oils?” you asked.
