this “vision” as an eighteen-year-old memory, thus implying Caro had been here before. And if he was the black blur, then she’d visited this location with him.
His heart skipped a beat.
There was only one reason they would have been here together.
This is where he took you…
“Son,” Osiris returned. “You look healthier than the last time we saw each other.”
It took physical restraint not to show any outward reaction to the inner chaos rioting inside Sethios’s mind. All he wanted to do was kill the bastard before him and find Caro. But he couldn’t move his legs or fight, thanks to his father’s fucking compulsion.
So he feigned nonchalance, a skill set he’d spent a lifetime perfecting. “Well, my hair is growing more naturally now,” he drawled. “My skin also appreciates the fresh air rather than being burned by molten cement.” The calmly spoken words were at odds to the utter agony those experiences had caused him.
“Hmm. And your mind is enjoying its freedom, too?”
“Is it free?” Sethios countered, aware that his father enjoyed deploying delayed persuasive tricks.
He didn’t acknowledge the inquiry, instead asking, “Tell me, how’s Skye? Has she died yet?”
“Is that why you’re here? For an update on those you enjoy tormenting?” Sethios wasn’t interested in playing this game and allowed that sentiment to reflect in his tone. “What do you want, Father?”
It would be wise to keep the old man talking and think through an escape plan, but Sethios found he was fresh out of patience.
Gabriel said nothing, merely folded his arms and watched Osiris with a complete lack of concern. The Seraphim feared nothing. Not even his own death. He was probably working on a plan and just giving nothing away. Meanwhile, Sethios’s only idea was to endure whatever his father had in mind, then break free later.
That hadn’t worked out so well last time.
Except Sethios and Caro had been captured with the notion of not trying to escape. They’d wanted to protect Astasiya. Now that her presence was known, Sethios could fight back.
“Always direct,” his father mused. “Also a wise decision, given that I’m not the only one monitoring this area, and as it’s not tourist season, we’ll absolutely be noticed.”
Sethios remained silent but internally wondered what his father meant by that. Who else is monitoring this location? And why?
“Has the High Council of Seraph demanded an audience with Stas yet?” his father asked. “I imagine they’ll be most interested in her talents. She’ll be a prime candidate to replace me at the table. Of course, if you ever find your wings, so would you.”
Sethios didn’t miss the jab. His father had always faulted him for not being a pureblood. It was Osiris who’d chosen to procreate with a mortal rather than another Seraphim, yet he lay the blame at his son’s feet.
The insult usually rolled off Sethios’s shoulders without leaving an imprint, but today he felt the slice of pain across his heart. Because he should have wings now, thanks to his bond with Caro. Yet he didn’t, and he suspected it had something to do with their time apart.
She’d claimed nothing could break a blood bond.
An insecure part of him worried she might have been wrong.
However, he couldn’t ponder that right now. Not in front of Osiris.
His father fed off fear and pain. Sethios possessed both in spades. But he’d suffer in silence and flay himself alive inside before he ever allowed an ounce of it to grace the air in the presence of his creator.
Osiris studied him for a long moment, his lips curling just enough to hint at his growing amusement. Or maybe it was pride. The old man was hard to read, his mind too psychotic for anyone to truly comprehend.
“Maybe you’re ready after all,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost as though the words were meant for himself and not his audience. “That’s good, son. You’ll need that strength for what’s coming. Especially now that you’ve left my circle.”
It took all matter of control not to ask him to elaborate. Sethios couldn’t afford to appear intrigued, even though the ominous threat about “what’s coming” had certainly piqued his interest.
“If the High Council hasn’t called upon you yet, they soon will. They’re going to want to talk to your daughter. I suggest you don’t allow that to happen if you value her life.”
“And let me guess your next suggestion,” Sethios drawled. “You want me to hand her over to you for safekeeping.”