Page 8 of Heart's Flame

Dem frowned at Zeph, but Vian appreciated the directness.

“Marcellus said there might be a way to break the spell that’s taken my memories.”

“Not taken,” Zeph corrected. “She’s had a witch with an affinity for mind magic blot out the memories of her choosing. I imagine you don’t remember me at all because I was dumb enough at one point to let her get her hands on a vial of my blood. As you know, blood is a powerful binding agent for a spell. The rest of the holes in your mind are her just guessing at what was important enough to take from you.”

“I don’t remember Sasha at all,” Vian whispered. “Who is she to me?” Marcellus moved to stand beside Vian, letting their shoulders rest together. Vian couldn’t explain how thankful he was for that touch.

Zeph glanced at Dem. “For all intents and purposes, she’s your little sister. You saved her when she was just a baby after her parents were killed and brought her to Dem.”

“What type of werecreature is she?”

“A fox,” Dem said with a smirk. “And already a sneaky little handful. We all adore her and she adores you.”

A sister. It didn’t matter that Vian didn’t remember her or that they weren’t related by blood, he loved her. Would die for her. He could feel it in his bones. The same way that he knew Marcellus was his. “I’ll be wanting those memories back,” he said, staring into his father’s eyes with a kind of conviction he couldn’t ever remember feeling before.

* * *

The fire crackledhot between them—Vian and Marcellus on one side, Zeph and Dem on the other.

“Face your mate,” Zeph said as he mirrored the movement with Dem. “Now, take his hands in yours.”

The evening meal had been a joyous, bewildering occasion. So many different people—Nulls, werecreatures, witches—all gathered in the same place and all welcoming him with open arms. Not only him, but Marcellus, as well. His mate was obviously well liked and a staple in the lives of these people. He’d spent most of supper listening to stories and sneaking glances at Marcellus, only to find him already looking back at him.

This feeling of hope blossoming in his chest was still a fragile thing, but he wasn’t afraid of it. He wanted whatever was on the other side of the black barriers to his memories. He wanted to remember and build on the bond he could already feel growing between him and Marcellus.

“Marcellus, open yourself to Vian and, Vian, focus on the feeling of your bond; hold on to it and imagine any barricades you feel crumbling to dust. Dem and I will do the rest.”

Zeph and Dem moved from their side of the fire, and his father’s hands settled on his shoulders a moment later. Vian pulled in a breath, holding Marcellus’s gaze. The firelight was licking golden patterns on the side of Marcellus’s face. The shine in his blue eyes was almost playful.

Zeph and Dem started a low chant, and Vian’s heart started to pound. Marcellus squeezed his hands. Pulling in a full breath, he cleared his mind, focusing on Marcellus’s hands in his—warm, rough, solid, and so very strong. He closed his eyes, letting the strength he could feel where they touched seep into him. He imagined golden threads, reaching out from the middle of Marcellus’s chest and spanning out—up his shoulders and down his arms, spilling over into Vian.

Those threads paused in Vian’s hands, as though something was blocking their way. The chanting got louder, words of magic in a language Vian didn’t know. He held on, grasping at those threads with the same will he used to harness the mage magic that flowed through him. He pulled, willing the threads to push past the resistance. The golden light pulsing in the threads intensified—Marcellus working in tandem with him, pushing as he pulled.

Pressure built in his head, throbbing in his eyes and squeezing his skull. He gasped, struggling to stay focused on the threads as the pain inside him mounted.

The grip on his hands shifted, fingers interlacing with his as a warm presence pressed all along his front. Where the golden threads had only been stretching through his hands, now they seeped in from every point of contact between him and Marcellus. The glow was almost blinding.

Soft lips brushed over his. He gasped at the feel of them, holding on desperately to the man in front of him.

“Let me in,” Marcellus whispered against his mouth. “Let me face this with you.”

Vian nodded, pressing forward without ever opening his eyes, taking Marcellus’s mouth with his own. The chanting, the heat from the fire, the ground beneath his feet—it all faded away until there was nothing but Marcellus’s lips moving against his and the taste of him on Vian’s tongue. The pressure building inside him broke open, crumbling all his resistance.

The golden threads he could still see behind his eyes shot forward, filling him until he was as bright as the shining man before him. The black holes that polluted his mind shattered like obsidian in the face of all that light.

Images slammed into him—Zeph with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, Sasha as a chubby-legged toddler with freckles on her cheeks and a riot of red hair on her head, Marcellus, angry and defiant, standing across a tent from him. Every memory his mother had seen taken from him flooded in like crashing waves against Ferron’s cliffs. His knees buckled, but instead of falling to earth, he was safe, cradled close by strong golden arms.

* * *

The stars overhead were a blur.Vian blinked, trying to clear his vision. He was laying on a bedroll, the gentle crackle of the fire soothing and warm beside him. Once his vision was clear, he turned his head, finding Marcellus’s face only inches away on the bedroll next. His breathing was deep and even, and it was then Vian realized their hands were interlaced in the space between their bodies.

He gave the fingers holding his a gentle squeeze. Bright blue eyes opened and met his gaze.

“How do you feel?” Marcellus asked, voice soft.

“Good, I think. My head aches a bit.”

With a small smile, Marcellus sat up and reached over Vian for a small metal cup that was sitting on one of the flat stones surrounding the fire. “Here, drink this. It’s a herbal tea. Dem said it will help with your head and any other lingering effects from breaking the spell.”

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