met. Now he would give anything to make her speak. Even a scream would do.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t hear her.” If he said those four words out loud one more time, he might lose his ever-loving shit.
How the fuck was he supposed to find her when he couldn’t even sense her?
Oh, he felt the cord tied to his heart, the frayed edges stabbing his insides like angry little thorns.
But apart from that pesky sensation, he felt nothing. And he hated feeling nothing.
“I can try to sleep again,” his daughter offered softly. “Maybe the dream will be clearer?”
“Or it could consume you again,” Issac said, sounding far too tired. Sethios could see the concern in his gaze, not for himself but for the female he clearly loved.
How will Caro feel about their relationship? Sethios wondered idly. It would shock her, just as it had him. However, he suspected she would approve, if nothing more than because of the way Issac looked at their daughter.
Sethios shook his head. Enough of that. “Let’s see what we can do about Skye,” he said, needing a distraction.
He also wasn’t keen on the idea of returning his daughter to the black hole of her dream state. There hadn’t been anything useful in that reverie, making it more dangerous to her psyche than useful to their search. And Caro would never approve of putting Astasiya at risk for her own benefit.
“Okay,” his daughter agreed, her relief palpable.
Issac flashed Sethios a grateful look, then followed Astasiya as she walked toward the stairs.
Poor Gabriel had each of his guest rooms occupied. Most were sharing space with a few sleeping on couches. But Skye had been provided her own bed.
Ezekiel stood as they entered, his hair tangled and unkempt, his clothes at least four days old. “You need to take a fucking shower,” Sethios told him. “Right now.”
His oldest friend snorted. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, it’s not for your benefit but for mine. You look like shit.”
“Says the man who resembled a Neanderthal last week.”
Sethios rolled his eyes. One of Osiris’s favorite torments was to compel hair growth. It hurt like hell. So did the razor he used to remove it. Just to begin the agony again. That had been Sethios’s punishment for removing the stitches from his mouth a few weeks, or months, or maybe years, prior.
Time was a funny thing. While Sethios could remember almost every detail of his time in captivity, he had no concept of when things occurred, thanks to his bruised mental state.
Regardless, he needed his friend to take a damn shower.
“Skye’s nose will thank you,” he said, arching a brow. “Unless you’re trying to torment her by forcing her to remain in close quarters with you in this state?”
The question was carefully phrased, the word “torment” one of Ezekiel’s hot buttons when in reference to Skye.
It provoked the male into action, his lithe form moving with lightning speed as he attempted to send a fist into Sethios’s jaw. The two of them rarely sparred, but when they did, it was an even match. At least when they were both at full health.
Today, Ezekiel was not at full health.
Sethios dodged him by stepping to the side, causing his best friend to lose his balance. It sent Ezekiel right into the wall, but the bastard traced to behind Sethios and tried again.
They danced in a circle, Sethios ducking while Ezekiel swung.
“I can do this all night,” Sethios taunted. He had a lot of fury to burn off, as did Ezekiel. Osiris had taken Skye from him a century ago and had been abusing the pair ever since.
She’d predicted Ezekiel would be her downfall, had tried to escape him on numerous occasions, but he’d been infatuated with the dark-haired beauty, chasing her all over the earth.
He tracked her with ease, his assassin roots assisting in his pursuit. However, a day after her capture, Osiris had arrived and demanded Ezekiel hand her over.
Which was why Sethios’s best friend had opted to work with Osiris.
Not because he approved of the old man’s inane plans, but because he held Ezekiel’s heart—Skye.
Saving her had been a clear course, except it was driving the poor woman mad inside. Ezekiel bore the brunt of the guilt, his infatuation with her the reason she’d been imprisoned in the first place.
That all led to Ezekiel’s current state and the pent-up rage riding his spirit.
Sethios allowed a fist to graze his cheekbone, hoping it would be enough to pacify the ancient assassin.