Born of Vengeance by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Ember cleared her throat as she blinked back her tears. "Wondering what Bastien would do."
Brand sighed. "You think he's still alive?"
"I don't know." Yet she never failed to pray for him. Even now, he was still a part of her.
"I do," Kindel said as she and Ashley joined them. "He's too ornery to die. That prick will live just to spite them. You'll see. And he'll be back for his vengeance. Just like he said."
Ash laughed. "He always kept his word. No reason to think he wouldn't keep this one."
"Yeah, especially if he felt like I do right now." Kindel took her jacket off and wrapped it around their mother. "They left us for dead."
"And framed us." Ash shook her head. "I want Barnabas's ass in a grinder."
"You'll get it," Brand assured her. "Right after I cut out Alura's lying tongue and shove it down her treacherous throat."
Yet as Ember sat there, listening to them vent and plot their vengeance, the one thing she knew beyond a doubt was that their lives would never be the same again.
In the blink of an eye, everything had changed.
Everything. And they had no solid ground to stand on. Nothing solid to reach for. Not even their names. Barnabas had taken everything from them.
How could they start over with so little?
And in that heartbeat, she heard Bastien's voice in her head. She saw his handsome, teasing face. Life tries us all, Em. It's going to kick you in the balls and test every bit of your mettle. The true measure of humanity isn't how you cope when everything's coming your way. It's what you do when you're being pile-drived headfirst into the ground. You can lie down and let them kill you. Or stand up with a fist and a finger and shout out "Is that all you got? 'Cause you ain't gonna take me down, bitches. So bring it with both fists. I'm ready."
Yeah, Kindel was right. Bastien wouldn't be dead. Not with that ironclad defiance of his. Nothing had ever rattled her baby. You could knock him down for a minute, but you better duck when he stood up.
And Bastien always got up, dusted off the blood, and went for the throat.
How weird that right now all she wanted was to feel his arms around her and to hear his voice in her ear telling her that it would be okay. That she could do it.
Of all the things she missed the most, it was his never-ending optimism. That screwed-up humor he had when everything skidded into a shit pile. His firm belief that she could do anything she set her mind to.
Why hadn't she fought harder for him?
Harder for them?
And in that heartbeat, everything broke. Sobbing uncontrollably, she doubled over with the pain of all she'd lost. Brand, Ashley, and Kindel gathered her into their arms while Cin and Tasi placed their hands on her head.
"We've got you," Kindel whispered against her ear. "We will stand together. You know that."
It was what their parents had taught them to do. Why Alura hadn't learned that lesson, she had no idea. But what killed her deep inside her soul was that she hadn't given Bastien the same loyalty.
She'd wanted to go after him to help him after his conviction, and her father had talked her out of it.
Now ...
I hope wherever you are, Bastien, that you're safe. Happy would be an unreasonable request given the nightmare he'd been through. Alone. And if she could have one wish right now, it would be for Bastien to find someone he could trust.
Someone who would help him.
Why didn't I do something?
He would never have left her and she knew it.
Choking in her grief, she reached for the necklace Bastien had given her that for some reason she'd never taken off. It was a small heart-shaped piece that held a lock of his hair. She couldn't count the times she'd started to jerk it off her neck and toss it in his face. Yet every time she'd considered it, his words had returned to haunt her.
"Keep this snuggled between your breasts, Ember. And whenever I'm not with you, remember that you have a piece of me here. More than that, you carry my heart wherever you go. The universe can take any and everything from you, but no one will ever take my love away. It's yours alone to have and to hold. Forever."
In fact, that last bit was engraved on the back of it.
Yours alone.
To have and to hold.
Forever your Bastien.
And though she might not be with him tonight, she was there in her thoughts.
Someday, if she survived this nightmare, she would find him. And either kick his ass. Or kiss his lips.
CHAPTER 5
THREE YEARS. THREE MONTHS. FIVE WEEKS. SIX DAYS.
Bastien sighed as he marked another day of his fun-filled vacation in hell.
"Not dead yet." Though that wasn't quite as thrilling an accomplishment these days as it'd once been. Because at this point, death might be a welcomed distraction from the boredom.
Suddenly, he heard the rumbling sounds of an engine descending.
That can't be good.
Dumbass! You knew better than to mention boredom ... be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.
His heart racing, he grabbed his gear and weapons and went to scout out his visitors. Don't panic, Cabarro. Might be nothing more than another group of Andarions.
For some reason, those crazy bastards came here a couple of times a year to scale the mountain range. They didn't stay long. Just enough to get to the top and go. He never made contact with them and they assumed the landscape too inhospitable for humans so they didn't look for people out here in the desert.
Occasionally, they left behind some supplies he could salvage.
But as he moved into his sniper position, and focused his distance goggles, he realized this was a different kind of vessel than the shuttlecraft they preferred.
A standard R-class runner by the looks of it. An older one, too, though it'd been meticulously kept up.
He wasn't sure what to make of that. Other than the occupants definitely weren't from The League, either. League military craft were easy to spot and stood out.
No, this style of cargo ship was normally used by merchant shippers or pirates. Sometimes freelance assassins, though that was rare. But then you never knew when a pirate or merchant would hold an assassin's license or when they might be willing to pick up some easy creds by killing a fugitive or Ravin.
Better take a closer look.
Bastien scooted down and stealthily made his way toward them.
Not that he had to go far, as they came off the ship and headed straight for him like he was their target.
Minsid hell. Tavali, by the looks of their impeccable black battlesuits that were marked with gray skulls. Gorturnum Nation would be his guess, given that. Pirate bastards, probably here to scavenge the base. They might have even detected a life form. Though three had left the ship, there could be more onboard.
Bastien took cover.
Two men ... huge effing bastards at that. One of them could make two of him. Damn! What planet were they from and what the hell had their parents fed them to make sons that tall and muscled?
For that matter, the woman wasn't small. Even she was taller than Bastien. And she was old enough to be their mother. Given their height and the fact that they all had various shades of blond hair, it would be a good bet.
Hmmm ...
It would also be a good bet that at least one of them carried an assassin's or bounty hunter's license, given the way they walked and the weapons they were packing. These beings were well versed in military-styled weaponry and walked as if they would kill or maim anyone dumb enough to threaten them.
Maybe they're just here to meet a friend. Do some illegal business and leave.
If that was the case, he'd hang back and not expose himself.
But that was getting more difficult to hold to as they got closer and closer to his home.
While he kept the interior of the abandoned base stark and run-down, it wouldn't be that hard to figure out someone lived there.
And if
The woman let out a slow whistle as she scanned the damage done to the exterior of Bastien's homebase. "What happened? The League?"
"No. My brother. The mother of his daughter, Driana, was murdered here, and his wife was held hostage. Aksel wanted Nyk to come for a visit. Lucky him. He did."
Bastien scowled at those words and the unexpected emotion they kicked up inside him. He'd assumed the blood he'd cleaned had come from soldiers.
To find out it was a female hostage and someone's mother ... that hit home and brought an image of his own mother and sister to his mind he could have really done without.
The male in the middle shook his head. "Needless to say, Nyk was a bit perturbed when he arrived. This is a prime example of 'be careful what you wish for.'"
The other man snorted as they picked their way through the debris to enter the rusted-out remains.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Bastien cursed repeatedly as they went in and he tried to decide what to do. He clung to the shadows as he followed them inside his home.
You know what to do. One way or another, they were about to learn he lived here.
He was going to be exposed, that was a given. So he'd best do it on his own terms. Not theirs.
As they started up the rickety stairs that would lead them to where Bastien kept his electronics and what few personal items he'd salvaged, he knew he had no choice whatsoever.
Making sure they couldn't see him, he clicked his weapon from stun to kill and deepened his voice for maximum impact. "Don't."
The bearded man in the middle held his hands up slowly. "We mean you no harm."
Yeah, right ... Like he was dumb enough to fall for that? "Then why are you here?"
Bastien expected an answer in words. Instead, it came in an invisible wave that knocked the blaster from his hands, lifted him clear off the floor, and pinned him to the rusted-out wall behind him.
Fected hell! Trisani ...
A race that was virtually extinct, which was why the mere idea that these three might be part of that rare breed hadn't entered Bastien's mind. He'd never thought to ever meet one in real life. Possessed of unbelievable psionic powers, they were more myth than reality.
But there was no legend to the fierce power that held him in an iron grip he couldn't escape. Worse? The force on his neck was about to snap it in half.
"Wait!" the bearded Tavali shouted as he held a hand out toward the one who must be holding Bastien up.
"For what?" the Trisani sneered. "A fucking invitation?"
The other Tavali smirked with a reckless disregard for the Trisani's life-and-death abilities. "Set him down."
Growling low in his throat, the Trisani obeyed. "A living enemy makes for a dead you."
Bastien had to agree with that logic as he hit the ground hard enough to rattle his bones and what little sense he'd managed to hang on to.
The Tavali gave the Trisani an amused stare. "I see you've been reading the Book of Harmony again."
"Fuck you, Andarion," he snarled under his breath.
Those words stunned Bastien.
Andarion? With blond hair?
How?
Bastien scowled. Every Andarion he'd ever seen had been dark-haired, dark-skinned, with eerie white eyes. And while the woman with them had the traditional Andarion eyes, the bastard standing between them appeared human, except for his enormous size.
Yet unlike the woman, his eyes were covered by dark red-tinted glasses. Bastien had assumed them human in color, not Andarion.
He snorted at the Trisani, who obviously was not his brother, Bastien realized, even though they fought as if they were. "And another lovely quote from your peaceful scripture."
Bastien glanced to the older woman. "Who are you people?"
"We're just passing through." The Andarion shrugged his survival pack off his back. He held it out toward Bastien. "Let us look for what we came after--has nothing to do with you--then you can grab a shower on our ship. I'll leave you with some clothes, food, and water."
In that moment, as their gazes met through those dark glasses the male wore, Bastien had a sneaking suspicion.
No ...
Couldn't be Jullien.
This Tavali was too fit and trim.
Too sober.
And yet, last Bastien had heard before his own parents had been killed, Jullien had been disinherited by both his mother and father. Thrown out of their empires during a bloody coup on Andaria that preceded the one on Kirovar by only a few months. Jullien's brother, who'd been presumed dead before Bastien's birth, had been found alive, and with his return, Jullien had lost everything.
That had been four years ago.
A lot could happen in four years. He ought to know. His life had skidded to absolute hell in a matter of weeks.
Still, it was hard to think that this might be Julie. Bastien raked him with a suspicious glare. "Why would you help me?"
"Because you look like you could use it."
Yeah, no one else would bother. He'd learned that lesson the hard way. People only helped when they had a reason to.
Bastien narrowed his gaze on those hazel eyes he was now sure belonged to his cousin. "Do I know you?"
"No."
A peculiar expression came over the Trisani's face while he glanced to the woman, then the Andarion. They had to be talking telepathically, which unnerved him, as he'd love to know what they were saying.
If they were planning to attack him.
Bastien tensed the minute those silvery-blue eyes focused on him with a great deal of suspicion.
The Trisani arched a disdainful brow. "You're that Kirovarian prince who slaughtered his whole family?"
Raw unmitigated fury ignited inside Bastien. Before he could catch himself or think better of it, he slammed the pack down and started for the Trisani, only to have the bastard throw him against the wall again with his powers.
"Put him down, Thraix!"
Aghast, Thraix glared at the man Bastien was even more convinced was his cousin Jullien. "You would really spare a snake this treacherous?"
"I didn't do it!" Bastien roared, sick of being accused of something so grisly it gave him nightmares every time he closed his eyes.
Thraix scoffed. "That's what they all say."
Jullien exchanged a glance with the woman, who was remaining oddly stoic and silent through all of this chaos. "I believe him. They never had any real evidence against him, other than the word of his own uncle, who now sits on the throne he inherited after he testified against Bastien. And Bastien's ex-wife, who inherited everything they took from him."
Thraix laughed bitterly. "Oh, okay, 'cause the younger son never murders the older one for a throne."
The expression on the Andarion's face would have made a sane man shrink back in unholy terror.
Obviously Thraix wasn't sane.
Nor did he value his life or balls.
Jullien curled his lip. "Yeah, and sometimes the second son just makes a ready-made patsy for others to pin their own crimes on. Because everyone but that second son is smart enough to figure out that when the entire family dies, he's going to be blamed for it. Funny, he's creative and ambitious enough to remove the direct obstacles to his succession, yet doesn't ever consider that in the obvious chain of suspicion, he's suspect number one and that either jail or death is a much more permanent hurdle against his ruling. Yeah, right.... That thought never occurs to him, until it's too late. Now, put him down."
Oh yeah, that overly defensive explosion about being a second-born royal son had to be from Jullien. Like Bastien, Jullien had been equally screwed over by his family, because they'd both been misjudged by everyone around them.
Bastien hit the ground with a solid thud that was even more painful than the one before it. Son of a ... he was going to feel this for the next few days.
"Really?" Jullien said to Thraix in the same tone an irate parent would use with a petulant toddler.
Thraix smirked. "You didn't specify 'gentle' as a condition of his release."
Sighing, Jullien growled in the back of his throat while Bastien pushed himself to his feet to confront them. With an agitated grimace, he started back for the stairs. "Aksel's office was on the second floor. What we need, if it's still intact, should be up there." He led them away from Bastien.
Yeah, that's definitely my boy.
And there was one way he knew he could prove that Andarion's real identity.
As they left the room, Bastien called out to him. "Paktu, mi kyzi."
"Estra, mi pleti." No sooner had those words been spoken than the Andarion froze as if silently cursing himself for the automatic response that meant, Anytime, my blood.
It was something Jullien had taught him when they were kids and Bastien had been trying to make Jullien feel welcomed and wanted in a palace and family that had made it abundantly clear they all resented his foreign presence there.
Holding the pack that Jullien had given him to his chest, Bastien stayed back from the group as his cousin turned slowly around to face him.
His breathing ragged, Bastien swallowed hard. "Tell me I'm wrong. But it's you, Julie, isn't it?"
He watched an impressive debate play across his cousin's face. Obviously, Jullien was desperate to deny it with everything he had.
Yet after a long pause, he slowly nodded. "Yeah."
Unable to believe that something good had finally happened to either of them, Bastien stared at him as if he were a ghost. Then he laughed and reached out to pull him in for a hug. "Damn, if you don't look good, cousin! Running looks much better on you than it does on me. You wear banishment well."
"You wouldn't have said that two years ago. Trust me."
Clapping him on the back, Bastien released him. "Thanks for not cringing when I touched you. Believe me, I know I'm disgusting and it's more than I deserve."
"It's all good, m'drey."
Bastien knew better. "No, it's not. And for what it's worth, which isn't much, I tried to get my father to harbor you after you were cast out. It sickened me how they did you. I'm really sorry."
Jullien gestured at him. "I'm sorry for this. What happened to you after I was exiled?"
That was a long story he didn't want to even begin to relive. So he shortened it to the pertinent facts only. "League. I'm a Ravin. Been running since Barnabas murdered my family and stole our throne."
Jullien cringed in sympathetic pain. "I figured you were dead by now."