Chapter Text
Terrified of what Haemon had in store for him, Leo leaned back as far as he could as the Commander loomed over him. His eyes darted around wildly in search of a stick or a rock – anything he could use to defend himself; but although the beach was littered with debris left by the deluge of countless seasonal floods, there was nothing near enough at hand to be of any use.
“Look at me,” Haemon hissed. “Did you, or did you not, just promise me whatever I want?”
Cringing slightly at the Commander’s tone, Leo timidly tilted his head up so he could meet the other Wraith’s lascivious gaze. As he did, he felt his long ponytail slither off his shoulder and fall into the rushing water behind him.
The current that caught it only tugged playfully at the knot of hair, but in his distraught, enervated condition, it was almost more than his already-compromised equilibrium could take. Knocked hopelessly off-balance, the scientist’s submerged hand slipped on the algae-covered rocks. His eyes wide with alarm, he shifted his palm around frantically in an attempt to gain a better purchase on the water-smoothed stones when the sensitive slit accidentally brushed over something leathery. Thinking it might be a water-dwelling Earth creature of some sort that had made its home in the stream, his first instinct was to pull away from the organic material - until he touched cold metal.
Marcus’ knife!
The discovery sent a potent shot of adrenaline through him, and an involuntary gasp escaped his lips as his eyes flickered automatically from Haemon to Marcus, wondering how the weapon could have possibly ended up there.
Leo’s gaze settled on his lover’s still form, and an unexpected swell of grief bubbled to the surface that hit so fast and with such raw intensity he almost cried out with the pain of it. Just as swiftly, he ground his teeth together against the howl of mourning that beat against them and viciously shoved his rampant emotions aside, unexpressed. Breaking down now wasn’t going to help anyone but the Commander.
Determined not to let that happen, he gave himself a mental shake and forced himself to examine the scene with the clinical detachment of his calling. Drawing on his experience as an archaeologist, he mentally mapped out the site like a dig then took a second look through the analytic lens of the researcher. Although he hadn’t seen where the blade had gone when it had flown from the warrior’s hand, after a quick study of the way Marcus’ body was angled on the beach with his outflung arm pointed in Leo’s direction, fingers extended as if in silent supplication, the trajectory made sense.
Hoping Haemon would misconstrue his hesitation for fear, Leo smothered both the fathomless sorrow and the wild burst of gratitude that had kindled in his chest so that neither showed in his face, and sent his partner a silent, heartfelt thank you as he closed icy, water-stiffened fingers around the braided hilt. Thus armed - and he hoped for his and Marcus’ sake - dangerous, a desperate plan began to form in his head; but it would require the Commander to be much, much closer.
Swallowing hard against the revulsion that threatened to close his throat, Leo schooled his features into an attitude of contrition he did not feel and peered up at Haemon, hoping the curtain of long, silvery-grey hair that fell in his eyes would be enough to hide his true intentions.
“Yes. Anything,” he affirmed with a sigh.
Although his tone was cautious and uncertain, Leo subtly arched his back when he inhaled so that his open jacket, which had been perched precariously on his left shoulder, lost the battle with gravity and slid down his arm. “Milord,” he added softly as the Wraithskin sleeve pooled around his forearm, putting just enough respectful emphasis on the honorific Haemon had always insisted he use in their most private moments to imply his complete cooperation with whatever was required of him.
Immediately on his guard, the Commander paused and tilted his head. While his gaze was suspicious, Leo thought he saw traces of hunger in it, as well, as it trailed covetously over the bare expanse of his torso and lingered on the smooth, muscular swell of his exposed shoulder and bicep.
“You care for your drone so much, then, that you would throw yourself at me to protect him?” Haemon’s golden eyes finally came back to rest on the archaeologist’s face once more, studying him intently. At the same instant, Leo felt the other wraith’s mind reach for his a second time, a faint, interrogative tendril of consciousness he knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore for much longer.
Leo bit back the retort that burned on the tip of his tongue at the Commander’s disparaging remark, implying that his beautiful Marcus – so fierce and proud and cunning – was nothing more than one of the masked foot soldiers that occupied the bottom rung of Wraith society. Instead, he lowered his lids submissively, taking the risk even though his instincts screamed for him to keep the hunter in his sights.
“No,” he replied evenly, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking. “It’s that I’ve realized I used him for my own selfish ends, and I don’t want him to have to pay with his life when I am responsible for this whole ugly mess. None of this is his fault. It was mine; I encouraged him.” Leo canted his coppery eyes up until they met Haemon’s, silently begging him to believe him.
After all, it was nothing less than the truth.
“No?” the other Wraith mimicked, his brow ridges rising and his tone doubtful. “You don’t love him, then? Why the sudden change of heart, my love?”
The scientist’s cheeks flushed a deep, angry grey. As usual, his attempt at talking to the Commander was unraveling before it had a chance to begin. Haemon had always had a penchant for twisting his words until he reduced Leo to confounded silence, making it nearly impossible to carry on a reasonable conversation. But even as the archaeologist compressed his lips into a thin, frustrated line, he knew that this time, he couldn’t allow that to happen. Not only was the swift-flowing water of the stream so cold that he almost couldn’t feel the weapon in his hand anymore, he was well aware that he only had a small window of opportunity before Haemon discovered the blade.
He had to push through, like it or not, and he needed to be quick about it. Give up wasn’t an option.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Leo tried again. “I do care about him. I cannot deny that; but I belong to you. You’re my mate. I was foolish to challenge you – to run from you when we are connected by the deepest and most profound of bonds. You are my destiny, and my place is by your side.”
He paused to gauge Haemon’s reaction, looking for some kind of sign that he’d heard him – some flicker of emotion or acknowledgement. To an outside observer it would have appeared as though he was genuinely seeking reconciliation with his estranged partner. In truth, he was checking to see if the Commander was buying his story.
But for all his searching, Haemon’s features remained impassive, his eyes shuttered. The only indication that he actually seemed to be entertaining what Leo was saying at all was the fact that he hadn’t already attacked.
The archaeologist, for his part, was desperate enough to interpret the other’s inaction as a good sign, even though he was painfully aware that he was grasping at straws. Eventually his opponent would make his move, and Leo knew that if he wanted to successfully draw him in and get him to let his guard long enough to strike, simply declaring his allegiance wasn’t going to cut it. He was going to have prostrate himself before the altar of Haemon’s pride, and fan the flames of the Commander’s obsessive desire to subjugate him to the utmost fiber of his being.
For a fleeting second, Leo’s mind balked and his body rebelled as some autonomic survival instinct clamped his mouth shut so he couldn’t speak, couldn’t offer to walk down that dark and terrifying path voluntarily. Then he thought of Marcus, who was lying on the beach just out of his range of vision like a thoughtlessly-discarded toy, and an unexpected surge of reckless protectiveness rose up from a core of inner strength Leo didn’t know he possessed, breaking the spell that held him mute. He was the one responsible for dragging the Wraith he loved into this century-long domestic dispute, and now he was the only thing standing between Marcus and certain death. He would do anything to save him – even this.
Even if it meant destroying himself in the process.
Gathering his tumultuous thoughts, Leo pressed on with words that flayed his soul as they tumbled from his numb lips.
“I was a fool to fight against you for so long. To disobey you time and again, and throw Marcus in your face any chance I got in some juvenile effort to defy you. I’m sorry that it took something this drastic for me to see how wrong I was, about Marcus – and you. While he blinded me to my place and my duty, you did everything within your power to uphold our laws. By your actions and integrity, you have proven indisputably that you are superior in every way, and are a much worthier partner than he could ever aspire to be. I realize that now.”
Leo paused for a second, poised on the precipice as he abandoned his last shred of self-preservation, then drew a shaky breath and plunged into the abyss head-first. “I was hoping – if you’ll still have me – that we could try again. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I would be a better consort to you on all levels; I swear it. I would give myself to you willingly and without reservation.”
A note of pleading had crept into his voice that felt so oddly genuine Leo almost stuttered to a stop mid-sentence, horrified by the sound. The plaintive throb reminded him of all the times he’d petitioned the Commander for leniency that never came; and it made him cringe inwardly to hear himself revert into the sniveling, whining mess Haemon had always been able to reduce him to so easily.
With effort, the scientist pushed down the familiar feeling of self-loathing that having to abase himself triggered, and continued. “We have nothing but time - and a whole new world full of unwitting, untainted humans to feed upon.” Here he paused to lift the hand that was resting on the beach and stretched out his arm, bare from shoulder to elbow. He gestured vaguely at the forest around them before letting it fall to his side again. The midnight sand was rough and cold against his sweaty palm. “My dream – my wish - is for us to explore it together.”
“And what of him?” Haemon stabbed a clawed finger in Marcus’ direction. “You’re ready to give him up so easily? Your lover? His tone was acid, his expression still closed – wary, although there was something in his eyes now that hinted at uncertainty, almost as if he wanted to be convinced.
Leo bowed his head and looked away, disguising the panoply of feelings that he was sure showed plainly in his traitorous features behind a graceful fall of hair.
“He is not my lover anymore. He hasn’t been for a very long time,” he murmured, imbuing his response with all the weary resignation he could muster. It wasn’t difficult. “He missed me after you claimed me as yours, and I was deluded by the memory of a bond that could never be. I’m ashamed to say that I led him on – made promises I had no business making and knew I could not keep. But that was it. It never went beyond a few embraces and some passionate words. Like the worst kind of manipulator, I inflamed his ardor just enough to keep him buzzing around, doing the double duty of shoring up my fragile ego and annoying you to no end, while I, myself, felt next to nothing.”
His gaze wandered to the unmoving figure sprawled a few meters off and he felt his throat constrict with regret. Not only for the sight of his fallen paramour, which tore him up all over again every time he looked; but for the core of truth: twisted, embellished, and larded through with lies though it was, that he was dredging up and spewing forth. Things he’d hidden away in his innermost heart-of-hearts, doubts and misgivings and self-recrimination that he’d never thought he’d be called upon to confess – least of all for Haemon’s edification – and his breath hitched on a strangled sob.
Swallowing what little pride he had left, Leo forced himself to go on, his voice rough with more emotions than he could put a name to. “If anything, he is to be pitied, not destroyed; and I humbly request, for the sake of what he and I once shared - what we once meant to each other – that you let him live. Allow him to pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move on without me. It’s not a large planet, but it has several land masses and is densely-populated. Once we part ways, we never have to cross paths with him again.”
“And what is to keep him from following us?” the Commander challenged. “From dogging our steps and making a nuisance of himself until I am forced to end him anyway?”
“I will tell him that I have chosen you, and that it’s over in no uncertain terms,” Leo replied glibly, although it was killing him inside to speak the words aloud, fallacies though they were. “The only reason he persisted was because I gave him hope. Without it, I can guarantee that his interest will wane quickly.”
The archaeologist fell silent then, holding his breath. He could sense that Haemon was interested in spite of himself. Intrigued. Could feel the press of the Commander’s consciousness against his own, seeking entrance in response to his impassioned speech so he could confirm for himself the veracity of Leo’s assertions.
The feather-light telepathic touch was gentle but insistent, and Leo knew he had no choice at this point but to grant Haemon access or risk exposure. He also knew without a shadow of a doubt that he and Marcus would die long, slow, agonizing deaths if the Commander caught wind of his deception.
Compelled by a ruthlessness borne of desperation, he bottled up the fury and grief and sorrow that roiled like an angry sea just below the surface of his calm exterior, and shoved it down to join the cold calculation and fear of discovery he’d already buried deep. When all but a remnant of feeling remained, he took hold of it and shaped it into something new, named it yearning, and flooded his mind with it to blanket what lurked beneath as best he could, then schooled his features into a perfect mask of submission to go along with it.
His emotions on lockdown, he lowered his mental defenses just a bit – just enough for Haemon to taste his duplicitous sincerity as he looked up at the Commander through his lashes. “Please, Milord,” he whispered, an expression of wistful longing playing over his face, “I implore you to let me show you how I feel. How I could have felt, if I had but allowed myself to do so before.”
Leo sensed it the instant the other Wraith took the bait. Felt it in the exultation that surged through the tenuous, flickering connection as Haemon lifted one booted foot and stepped over him where he sprawled helplessly on the beach. Heard it in the Commander’s satisfied snarl as he planted his boot in the wet sand by the rushing water on Leo’s other side so he could tower over him majestically and feast his greedy eyes on his prize. Saw it in his actions when, still cautious but captivated by the submission he’d been anticipating for so long, Haemon dropped to his knees and straddled the archaeologist’s hips with his powerful thighs.
Leo didn’t dare move or breathe for fear of giving himself away. Pushing excitement and desire through the link, he steeled himself and met the Commander’s gaze squarely, although his heart hammered against his ribs as his hindbrain recognized the danger he was in and flooded his system with adrenaline.
Haemon’s spiracles flared slightly to taste the scent of Leo’s pheromonic response. “You know what you are offering,” the Commander murmured as his eyes narrowed, glittering and intense. It wasn’t a question.
“I do,” Leo nodded, lowering his lids while his body tensed involuntarily in silent protest when he spoke the words. Doing his best to suppress the shudder that ran though him, he could only hope that Haemon would mistake his reaction as eagerness and not disgust.
The next thing he felt was fingertips caressing his cheek, urging him to look up with a touch that was commanding yet oddly tender. Although his skin crawled at the contact, knowing who it was, it was such a drastic departure from anything Leo had ever experienced with Haemon before that he found himself complying automatically.
As he raised his eyes to meet the Commander’s, however, the fingers that had been touching him so gently suddenly clenched his lower face in a bruising grip. He gasped in pain and instinctively tried to pull away, but Haemon held him fast. Trapped and at a disadvantage, the archaeologist had no choice but to stop struggling or dislocate his own jaw. In spite of his panic, he forced himself to stillness, but his eyes were wary as he looked up at his captor, wondering if he’d overplayed his hand.
Haemon’s pupils were blown wide as they locked onto his. "You are mine," he growled when he had Leo's full attention, his voice low and threatening. "I will kill him while you watch if you are lying. Do you understand?"
Swallowing with a dry click, Leo made an abortive attempt at a nod. He saw a hint of amusement in the smirk that played at the corner of the Commander’s mouth, and it took every ounce of discipline he had not to drop the act and lash out at Haemon right then and there. Desperate to control the spike of anger before it leaked through and ruined everything, he conjured images of himself and Marcus together in happier times to draw on so he could maintain his carefully-crafted illusion. He knew that if he lived through this, he would hate himself later for sullying his memories of the warrior in the way, but there was nothing for it. Grasping at the borrowed emotions, he shored up his crumbling façade and let his eyes go soft and liquid as he gazed up at his mate in his best approximation of adoring servitude and waited for permission to speak.
His patience was rewarded not long afterwards, when, apparently satisfied that he’d reminded Leo who was in charge, Haemon released him.
“Well?” the Commander prompted.
“I understand now how things are,” Leo replied in a small voice, pretending his face didn’t hurt even though he could still feel the imprint of Haemon’s fingers where they’d dug so cruelly into his skin. “I am yours for all eternity.”
“Show me.”
The abrupt command sent another shockwave of adrenaline through the scientist, but this time he was ready. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. Turning his head away, Leo looked out across the rushing stream then deliberately lowered his eyes in a sign of capitulation.
“Mark me.”
He heard Haemon’s sharp intake of breath, felt the small tremor of surprise that shook him before he recovered.
“I have already done so,” the Commander scoffed, although Leo could sense the rush of underlying excitement his invitation had incited in the other Wraith through their bond, how close he was to the edge. “Why would I need to do it again?”
“You imposed it upon me last time – took me against my will,” the archaeologist countered breathlessly, subliminally nudging Haemon nearer still with a thousand images of himself lying raw and broken and bleeding beneath the Commander, reminders of his weakness and Haemon’s power over him. “I am offering myself of my own accord this time, Milord, with all that implies.”
It was enough. Like a dam breaking, he felt his estranged mate lose control at the same moment Haemon suddenly wrapped his arms around him and gathered him close, all hot, heavy breathing and sharp teeth nipping at his ear. It took all the discipline he’d developed over his lifetime not to resist the unwanted intimacy, but as Leo was pulled into the embrace, the hand clutching the knife was scraped along the bottom of the stream and he found himself struggling anyway, trying to maintain his position so his subterfuge was not discovered.
In desperation, he drew back enough that he could settle his weight on the heel of his feeding hand to stop his forward momentum, then brought his other arm up with the intention of sliding it around Haemon as if encouraging his advances. But before he got very far, the Commander tensed and reared back, grabbing his wrist and squeezing tightly.
“What are you playing at?”
Leo’s eyes snapped up to meet Haemon’s, his coppery gaze wide-eyed and startled as the Commander snarled in his face, immediately on the defensive.
“Nothing,” he cried, as the other Wraith tightened his grip, grinding carpal bones together painfully. “I swear it! I was merely trying to touch you. To… to worship you as you should be worshipped. Please!”
The tension in Haemon’s frame eased as he let the archaeologist’s wrist go and rested his hand possessively on Leo’s hip, his expression softening slightly into one of intrigued curiosity.
“Very well,” he murmured condescendingly, “I will allow it.”
And he did, sitting very still and watching very closely while Leo reached up and tentatively began finger-combing his hair. With the same slow, careful movements he employed when excavating a fragile relic, the archeologist drew the other’s mane over one shoulder a bit at a time, eventually uncovering the nodules that started at the base of the Commander’s skull and ran down the back of his neck.
When the last strands had been pulled across, he stroked his claws through the shining mass that lay like pale, silken ribbon down Haemon’s chest one final time, then brought his hand up to the back of his mate’s neck. With his fingers hovering inches from the bone spurs, he paused and met the other Wraith’s considering gaze coquettishly, and with a small, seductive smile plastered on his face, he daringly brushed his claws over the exposed skin there. The Commander’s eyes widened slightly and a soft, surprised sound – almost a purr – vibrated in his chest.
Biting back his repugnance, Leo teased the tender flesh between and around the vertebrae, all the while frantically trying to recall the lessons of his martial arts instructors. For this to succeed, he was going to need to strike in just the right spot, and he didn’t want to blow it.
With trembling fingers, he counted down the nodules, trying to locate the correct pair by feel. When he found what he thought might be the ones he sought, he focused his attention there. Outwardly serene, he scraped his nails gently over the sensitized skin while his heart pounded out a frantic rhythm, beating a rapid tattoo against his ribs as he tried to work himself up to take that final, fatal step. Suddenly it was time, and for all his fine plans, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. Although he’d dreamed of wresting his life back from Haemon for nearly a century, he’d always envisioned just running away with Marcus and disappearing, not…
This is it! Do it now, his inner voice commanded, but still Leo hesitated, paralyzed with indecision and wondering if a more ideal moment or a better option might present itself if he held off just a little bit longer.
What he hadn’t counted on was the other wraith’s pleasured moan, or the hard length he could feel nudging his thigh through the Commander’s pants as Haemon snaked his arms around his waist and pulled him closer, until his bare chest was pressed against the Commander’s Wraithskin coat. He gasped at the shock of cold against his heated skin, but before he could pull away, Haemon squeezed harder, overwhelming him with his strength and taking away all his choices as he’d done since the very beginning. Trapped in his tight, unyielding embrace, the archaeologist shivered in his arms, overcome with revulsion and the sharp sting of despair.
“You are mine forever; I will never let you go again,” the Commander murmured passionately across Leo’s throat, then pressed his cold lips against his skin. Restrained and unable to escape, the scientist started to panic as Haemon sank his teeth into the meat of his trapezius muscle at the juncture where his shoulder met his neck.
Too late, he screamed at himself internally, certain that he’d missed his only chance. Haemon had caught him, and now Marcus would die, and it was all his fault. Disheartened by his latest and greatest failure, Leo stopped struggling and let Haemon bite him. He barely flinched as the other Wraith broke the skin and the barb under the Commander’s tongue jabbed painfully into his flesh, feeling like maybe he deserved whatever was done to him, after all.
But as the coolness of the venom that marked him as Haemon’s rushed through his veins, it doused the fear and uncertainty that clouded his mind in a wash of enzymes intended for lovers ready to declare their true intentions, leaving only the sharp, deadly edge of his unwavering hatred behind. In that instant, it was as if a switch had been flipped, and the torrent of emotions he’d imprisoned and denied for so long finally broke free. All the antipathy he felt for this Wraith who’d tortured and abused him, and threatened Marcus’ life if he didn’t comply – all the rage that he’d suppressed for the century of degradation and humiliation he’d suffered at his hands – suddenly boiled over in an explosive rush of scorching clarity, and he knew what he had to do.
Haemon’s lips were still sealed over the wound, lost in the euphoric haze of bonding, when Leo brought his arm up out of the water in a shining arc. For one brief, terrifying, cathartic second, the ice-cold metal flashed in the moonlight before he plunged it between the exposed vertebrae on the back of Haemon’s neck.
Entangled as he was in the Commander’s arms, he couldn’t really see the strike even though it was mere inches from his face, but he could feel the satisfying sensation of the blade skittering on bone and catching on gristle as he sank it deep. A guttural growl of triumph rumbled in Leo’s throat, rising and falling with his exertions as he wrenched the knife back and forth viciously, and when a spray of black blood gushed forth from the gaping wound like a fountain, he reveled in it. His eyes narrowed to slits of righteous joy when the first drops hit his skin and bathed his face in hot gore as he sliced through arteries and nerves with abandon, every ounce of his energy focused on cutting the cancer that was Haemon out of his life forever.
At the first unforgiving kiss of the blade, the Commander reared back with a roar, his arms spasming and his back arching as severed nerve-endings misfired. His uncontrolled movements threatened to push Leo away, but as he was still straddling the scientist’s thighs, there really wasn’t anyplace for either of them to go. Unwilling to let go of the weapon, Leo hung on doggedly as he yanked the knife out of the other Wraith’s neck, doing his best to avoid being hit while Haemon flailed and jerked in his lap. It wasn’t until he felt the sharp sting and the warm, viscous flow of his own blood running down his face to mingle with the Commander’s that he realized he’d scraped the blade across his own cheekbone in the chaos of convulsing limbs, barely missing his eye.
Thankful that he’d avoided damaging of the few parts of his body that it would have taken many cycles of deep, restorative sleep in the belly of a Hive to heal, he only had an instant to register the injury before Haemon’s contortions stopped and his full weight toppled forward, driving them both down onto the sand.
Leo’s head and one of his shoulders landed in the stream and he went under the fast-moving water for a second before he came back up again with a gasp. As he broke the surface, he came face-to-face with the Commander who was lying heavy on his chest.
Even though Haemon couldn’t lift a finger, he was alive – as Leo had hoped – and conscious, and they were so close that the Commander’s perfectly coifed hair, now hanging in tangled strands, dripped water and blood onto the scientist’s face. Leo was quick to note that the bleeding from the other Wraith’s neck was already slowing to a sluggish crawl as innate healing abilities took over, before his eyes were inexorably drawn to Haemon’s. The baleful golden glare that locked onto his gaze bored into Leo’s very soul, while labored breathing blew hot against his chilled flesh with the steady stream of invective that tumbled from the Commander’s lips, promising unimaginable pain and suffering once he recovered the use of his limbs.
At any other time, Leo would have been cowering in a corner by this point, wilting under the vituperation and waiting for Haemon to exact his vengeance; but this time – for the first time - he was the one doling out the punishment for a change, and it felt good. Powerful. He wasn’t about to waste a second of it in fear.
Tightening his core to hold his upper body clear of the water, he awkwardly clung to the knife as he grasped the Commander’s shoulders and pushed Haemon’s dead weight off him. He rolled them both in the direction of the beach until he was on top and straddling the Commander’s paralyzed body, effectively reversing their previous position.
Through it all, Haemon cursed and spat with impotent fury. “…Just wait until I get my hands on you, you treacherous little insect!” Though the Commander’s limbs were unresponsive, his face was animated. Angry. Murderous. “I will destroy you! I will beat you bloody and mount you over and over until you beg for death!”
Leo leaned over and snarled defiantly in his face, bringing Haemon’s tirade to a stunned, disbelieving halt although his golden eyes blazed with indignant wrath as he glared up at him.
“No, Haemon!” the scientist cried, incensed, “you’re never touching me again!” Gripping the collar of the Commander’s coat with his free hand, Leo lifted it slightly and slid the tip of the bloody knife between it and Haemon’s body then, with a single movement, sliced the coat open from neckline to belt, tearing through the Wraithskin like it was tissue paper. With a satisfied grunt, he dropped the gore-spattered blade by his leg and used both hands to peel the leathery material back like he was ripping the rind off a fruit to expose the Second’s muscular chest.
“You dare…,” the Commander growled as realization dawned in his features, his voice tight and strained with outrage.
“I do,” Leo retorted, unceremoniously cutting him off. “You’ve tortured and raped me for the last time. Now it’s my turn to lay my hand on you!” With that, the archaeologist growled triumphantly and slammed his feeding hand down, maw wide open and dripping enzyme as it bit viciously into the Commander’s sternum. It was high enough on Haemon’s paralyzed body that he felt it, and the Commander had no choice but to howl in pain, a ragged sound that rose in volume and intensity as the scientist began to feed, drawing vital energy out of him in great, heaving gulps.
Leo threw back his head in ecstasy as he glutted himself on the other Wraith’s life force, his body tingling with sparks of stolen power. Where energy flowed, healing followed, and a moment later, the sharp sensation of rapid regeneration lanced through him in the midst of his pleasure as all the residual damage left over from his encounter with the tree was eradicated in a painful rush. He flinched at the unexpected pressure of his lung reinflating, and hissed at the almost-unendurable ache of ribs finishing the job of knitting themselves back together.
Meanwhile, Haemon’s screams echoed off the canyon walls as he whipped his head back and forth – the only thing that he had within his power to move. Serrated teeth shredded greyish-green lips and flecks of foam and blood smeared across his mouth as he bit his tongue to ribbons, mindless with the searing agony of being fed upon. Sitting atop the Commander, Leo felt the first quiver of returning sensation run through Haemon’s frame, and knew he didn’t have much time before the severed spinal cord healed itself completely.
The scientist’s lips peeled back from his pearlescent teeth in a parody of a smile as he glared down at his one-time mate. “Thank you for finally giving me the chance to show you how I really feel about you,” he sneered, “but now it’s time for you to go.”
Renewing his efforts, Leo fed for all he was worth, racing against the Commander’s faltering regenerative capabilities, while beneath him, Haemon’s cries tapered off as his face began to shrivel and his eyes grew dull as they sank into the hollows of his cheekbones. Aware that the Commander was nearing the end, Leo was surprised to see his lips attempting to form words. It took a moment of Haemon’s chest heaving until he finally managed to speak, his voice little more than a raw, mangled whisper that barely carried across his flayed vocal cords as he gurgled, “You’ll never be free of me.”
Then the Commander was beyond words as another shriek was ripped from him, louder and more gut-wrenching than the rest. It rose in ululating waves, until it reverberated not only in the cool night air, but in Leo’s mind as well, setting his teeth on edge as it cycled up into a high-pitched whine that tore at his consciousness. Just as the input became unbearable, it peaked, in an explosion of cacophonous noise and brilliant light that suddenly detonated behind his eyes, whiting out his vision and rupturing his eardrums. He had an instant to wonder if this is what it felt like when the Mate Bond snapped before an agonizing stab of pain lanced through his skull, rocking his head back like he’d been slapped.
Temporarily blinded and deafened, Leo jerked his hand away from Haemon’s sternum as a death rattle escaped the Commander’s lips and his body sagged against the sand, still and lifeless. Stunned by the magnitude of what he’d just done, the archaeologist froze as well, his feeding hand hovering uncertainly over Haemon’s ruined chest.
It’s over! We won! The thought rose on scintillating bubbles of elation to the surface of Leo’s mind, potent and intoxicating. With a sigh of relief that ended in a little laugh of incredulous disbelief, he felt all the tension that had been wracking his body for the past century drain out of him. His shoulders sagged, and he dropped his guard for the first time in what seemed like forever as he turned his unseeing gaze inward to try and process the experience while he waited for his sight and hearing to return.
Unfortunately, it was only then that he noticed the trap he’d blundered into unawares in the burst of light and sound which had robbed him of his senses; but before he could do little more than gasp in shocked horror at the realization, its jaws snapped shut around him.