Fear me, Love me

Sworn Brothers

Rylan Grey gazed at the multitude of freed slaves huddled against the cold.

"Can you take them from here?" Lewis asked, he was shifting uncomfortably on his feet anxious about the approaching dawn. Rylan nodded.

"I'll get them to safety. What about you? Come with us." Lewis shook his head. "I've told the others about you – about all you did for me in Venice-"

Lewis clapped Rylan on the arm.

"I'm needed elsewhere. But there is something..." he ran his hands through his messy hair.

"Yes?"

"Have you encountered seers before?"

Rylan frowned, "fortune tellers?"

"If you have or others of the resistance have get them to hold this and concentrate on its owner." He handed Lewis a beautiful lilac heel – worn once at the opera.

"Why?"
"It will show them that what I have to say is the truth." Lewis glanced at the people around them and steered Rylan away from curious ears. "There's a woman who will defeat Wabyt," he whispered.

"That's-"

"She's imprisoned at the Nouveau Bastille. The resistance must free her." Rylan's expression mirrored Lewis' in severity.

Ryder's rooms at the villa were scantly furnished. He sat on a filing cabinet, staring down at his hand as he bound his bloody knuckles. Through the shuttered window they could hear Peter training in the courtyard below.

"You did well – there's nothing to connect it with me. With any luck Wabyt thinks the resistance have him now." Quickly irritated Ryder threw the bandage away from him – sighing in frustration.

Lewis skulked in the corner of the room – keeping into the shadows despite the lack of natural light.

"Want my help?" He offered. Ryder looked up at him suspiciously.

"Why aren't you angry with me? Even slightly?" He demanded. Lewis' jaw clicked and his gaze fell to the ground between them.

"She loved you – didn't she?" Lewis voice was soft and hesitant.

"What?"

"Lauren cared about you." Ryder froze – a misery of torment swirling in his dark gaze. "I don't understand how or why. But I think that must be what happened." He still couldn't meet Ryder's eyes. His fingers drummed slowly against the wall.

"There are various legends about werewolf mates, about where it comes from and why it's so precious to my people. One legend has it that in a previous life mates were one person." Ryder's frown darkened – he didn't want to think about Lauren having a soul mate – a man he'd have never been able to compete with. "And that in death the soul was split. When we see our mate for the first time in this life, some say it's the other half of our soul that we're recognising."

"Fascinating," Ryder interrupted sarcastically.

"I should be angry with you. When Lauren died I...I become consumed with the idea of having to find you. At first I thought for revenge but-"

"But?"

"I can't hate you properly." Finally he looked up and met Ryder's intense gaze. 

"You," his voice shook, "you think you might care for me?" He got to his feet, clenching his trembling hands into fists, "you're wrong. She never loved me!" He swept from the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Sighing Lewis rested his head against the wall and shut his eyes listening to the sounds of Ryder's rampage.