Love in the Land of Fire Brochu, Rebecca (books to read for 13 year olds txt) 📖

click and Josiah surges forward, hands darting out to cup Zweil’s face in his palms so that he can look into his eyes. The pupils are blown wide, the color almost eclipsed by black, and Josiah can practically see whatever drug the other man had injected into himself swimming there in the depths of his gaze. Cursing savagely he takes a brief second to thank Eagan for his foresight in thinking to keep an open channel between them.

“Eagan, I know you can hear me. You need to send Marcel and that medical unit to my location, stat!

Zweil’s injected himself with some sort of drug and I have the feeling that he doesn’t have much time left so tell them to hurry the fuck up!”

Teeth gnashing, Josiah curses his own stupidity in underestimating just how far Zweil was willing to go. No wonder Zweil had been so intent to stall, so eager to talk and keep Josiah distracted. He’d been biding time, trying to make sure that enough passed so that the drug in his system couldn’t be reversed. Not willing to let it happen, not willing to let him go that easily, Josiah cups a too slack shoulder in one hand and slaps the other man across the cheek hard enough to sting and hopefully to make him focus a bit with the other. Sure enough Zweil’s eyes sharpen for a moment as they focus on Josiah’s face.

“What. Did. You. Take?” Josiah grits the question out through clenched teeth, each word its own separate sentence as he tries to contain his rage.

“Hmm. A little of this…a little of that. You don’t have to…worry…about me…anymore…”

Zweil’s losing coherency fast, the drugs finally taking ahold of him and stealing away his senses. Josiah can feel his own control slipping in a way that it never has before, can feel panic creeping up on him where calm has always been.

1“Zweil! Zweil! Rafe! Snap out of it and tell me what you took, damn you!”

Josiah bellows the words but they have no effect. All he can do is clutch uselessly at the other man’s loose form and pray that the sirens he can hear in the distance will make it to them in time.

1Chapter Five

Josiah scrubs a hand roughly across his face, fingers scraping through the build-up of stubble that coats his cheeks. He’s basically been playing guard over Rafe’s bedside for the past three days and he’s beginning to get frustrated. He’s given up all thoughts of not calling the man by his given name. Josiah figures it’s a small reward for all of the bullshit he’s had to put up with.

The situation had gone downhill at an almost awe-inspiring speed after the medical unit had finally made it to the ruins of Rafe’s old home. The submissive had flat-lined twice on the ride back to the city and on the second time the medics had barely been able to revive him again. The large dose of distilled quiesco root, a plant that acted as a powerful sedative, that he’d injected into his arm had stopped his heart before the medics had been able to flush his system completely. They’d almost been too late.

He’d almost lost Rafe before he even had the chance to have him.

Josiah pushes that thought away harshly. Rafe isn’t his, cannot be his, and does in fact belong to someone else. Someone Josiah has spent the last three days making damn sure is unable to come within two feet of the vulnerable man. He knows that he should have went home instead, that he should have left the hospital as soon as it was clear that Rafe would live, gone home and washed the feel of ash and death off of his skin with scalding hot water. Instead he’d glued himself to Rafe’s side, ignoring or practically snarling at anyone who suggested he should leave. Eagan had walked in, taken one look at him before shaking his head and wishing him good luck.

What he meant Josiah isn’t exactly sure he wants to know, but he appreciates the sentiment anyways.

Frisch had been particularly hard to get rid of, but Josiah had taken an almost feral delight in intimidating the lower tiered dominant into leaving. So far he’d been the only visitor; there’d been no friends, no other family. The unconscious man’s Head of House hadn’t even bothered to show when she’d been notified of his condition and location and that alone spoke volumes about Rafe’s home life. It was something that set Josiah’s teeth on edge and his fingers itching for his rapier.

Especially when the medical workup on Rafe had been completed and Josiah and Marcel had been presented with irrefutable proof that the submissive had been treated poorly for what had to have been years now. The physical scars were few but the in-depth scans had told a different, more terrible story. Josiah has a not so sneaky suspicion that it’d all began when Rafe had been separated from his father’s Bonded. He’s got feelers out in some discreet places to see if he can locate the other man; it’d only taken a few discreet messages on his p.a.t.c.h to start the process, but he’s more than aware of the fact that after so many years any important information might already be gone.

Now all they can do is play the waiting game and hope that Rafe will wake up soon so that Josiah can get his testimony and have Frisch’s abusing ass thrown somewhere where he won’t see the light of day for a very long time.

“You know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite this invested in a case before, Josie.”

It’s Marcel, her platinum blonde hair swept up in her trademark twist as her dark brown eyes almost twinkle at him despite the seriousness of the situation.

“Don’t call me