He stepped around Maris to grab her by the arm.

"Darling? I-"

The frigid look he gave her froze her vocal cords. "I am the Caronese governor, with one of the purest aristocratic bloodlines in the United Systems. You will refer to me as 'Your Majesty' or 'my lord.' Do you understand?" He literally spat every syllable at her.

She nodded.

His grip tightened on her elbow as he pulled her from the room.

She looked back to see Maris following after them. She considered fighting Darling, but her sanity kept her from it. In the mood he was in, he might kill her if she tried.

Without slowing his determined stride, Darling hauled her through the palace and into a huge, industrial kitchen. There he flung her toward an older, portly woman who appeared to be in charge of the area.

The woman and her all female staff bowed low to Darling.

When he spoke, that raspy growl chilled every part of her. "You have a new slave for your staff. Do with her what you will." He turned and glared at Maris before he left her there like a discarded toy he'd grown bored with.

Her sight blurred as she saw the relief on Maris's face that Darling hadn't hurt her. At least not physically.

Emotionally, however, she felt kicked and bruised by his rejection.

What were you expecting?

In all honesty, she should be grateful he hadn't beat or killed her. This was far kinder than all but one of the things she'd imagined for their reunion.

In that one, Darling had actually welcomed her.

You're an idiot.

He would never welcome her again. Why should he?

And this finalized it. Darling hated her. He had every right to.

"Maris!"

Maris jumped at Darling's gruff bellow. He gave her one last look of sympathy before he went to see what Darling needed.

Zarya swallowed. There had been a time when Darling had needed her.

But never again.

By her own actions, she had destroyed his love for her. The worst part was that she couldn't even blame him for it. She'd done this to herself.

"Here." The kitchen warden shoved a filthy trash bin into her hands. "Dump that in the receptacle out back... my lady," she sneered, then broke off into mocking laughter. "And try not to muss your hair or get shit on your dress."

The others laughed, too, as Zarya headed for the door. Yeah, she could just imagine how pathetic she looked dressed like this while she went about household chores. Every one of them knew exactly what had happened.

Their governor had rejected her.

Even so, she kept her chin up and her spine stiff. Let them mock her. She didn't need their approval or their friendship.

All she needed was a man who hated her guts.

Darling glared at his oldest friend as he toyed with the idea of gutting Maris where he stood. "What the fuck was that?"

"I thought she'd cheer you up."

He curled his lip. "Don't lie to me. You thought you could weaken me with her. Admit it."

A tic started in Maris's jaw-something that didn't happen often. It took a lot to make Maris lose his temper, especially with Darling. "I'm not trying to weaken you. I'm trying to help you."

Yeah, right. "Help me what? Get killed?"

Maris sighed. "You know better than that. But what am I supposed to do?" His tone sharpened as the fire returned to his dark eyes. "Stand by and watch as you drink yourself into another coma? Really? And when was the last time you bathed or shaved? You look awful and you smell like the back end of a dead, rotting yaksen's ass."

Darling wanted to kill him as those words cut to the core of his battered soul. The impulse was so strong, he wasn't sure how he kept from it.

How could Maris say that to him?

Maris had always been so intuitive, but in this...

The bastard was wrong.

Dead wrong.

"You want to know why I don't bathe?" Darling snarled at him. "Because I have to look at this." He jerked his mask off and threw it at Maris. It was the first time since he'd been rescued that he'd allowed anyone other than Syn to see what was left of him.

And it was truly repulsive.

His expression unreadable, Maris caught the mask to his chest. Tears welled up in his friend's eyes as he finally saw the true horror of what had been done to Darling.

And that was just on the surface.

Darling turned away as agony washed through his entire being. It was the internal damage that tore him up the most. Every time he saw his face or his skin, it took him right back to that room where they'd hung him up, naked, like a piece of meat to be butchered. All of it hit him again as if it were still happening-as if he'd wake up and be right back there at their mercy. He felt every stinging emotion of being abandoned and alone and hopeless.

Helpless.

He, who had the power, speed, and skills to kill a man with the ease of a League assassin, had been completely unable to stop them from violating him.

Over and over.

With every glimpse of his skin, Darling smelled the blood, the shit, and the urine. The vomit. Every vicious thing they'd said to him while they'd carved him up-the laughter and joy they'd taken in their cruelty rang in his ears until he was deaf from it.

Nothing could silence it.

Nothing.

And above it all, was the sound of Zarya on the other side of the door, going about her daily routine while they viciously brutalized him, day after day, month after month.

Even then, he'd prayed that she, the woman who'd sworn she would never betray or hurt him, would just open the door and help him.

Instead, when she'd finally come inside, she'd slapped and cursed him like all the others.

That was what he couldn't face.

And now Maris dared to bring the bitch back into his life...

Maris was lucky he hadn't punched him.

Sick to his stomach and battered to the core of his soul, Darling fished through the mess he'd made in his office and pulled his bottle of Tondarion whisky up from the floor where it'd rolled after he'd overturned his desk.

This had been the only comfort he'd had since they'd rescued him. Nothing else eased the bitterness in his dead heart. While the whisky didn't get rid of the voices entirely, it at least dulled them enough that he could function around the memories.

He took a deep swig straight from the bottle and let the liquor burn down his damaged throat. The one thing he'd learned in his useless life was how to find pleasure in pain. It was all the gods had left him with. "You'll have to excuse me if I'm not feeling up to a shower or shave right now."

Maris closed the distance between them. He set the mask down on the shelves to Darling's left, then pulled the bottle out of Darling's hand and placed it beside the mask. "I don't care what you look like, Darling. I never have. It's your heart that's beautiful."

Darling cursed him for a liar as he reached for the bottle again.

Maris caught his hand to keep him from touching it. "You don't need that."

Yes, he did. He had nothing else in his life. "There's no beauty left in me, Mari. People are nothing but rabid animals who attack friend and foe for no reason whatsoever. They don't care. They don't feel. All they want to do is crush others and make them bleed as if that will somehow miraculously aleviate their putrid misery. There's nothing left but hatred, contempt, and disgust in my heart. I finally understand what drove Arturo and why I was attacked."

Wanting only to comfort him, Maris wrapped his arms around Darling's waist and held him close.

To his surprise, Darling actually leaned back against his chest and closed his eyes. Then, he reached up to curl his arm around Maris's neck. Darling hadn't allowed him to hold him like this since before his first rape. If nothing else, that told him just how much pain Darling was in.

"How flagged are you, Darling?"

"Very." His breathing ragged, he swallowed hard as he surrendered his weight to Maris. "I'm so fucked up, Mari," he whispered. "All I feel now is unending pain and utter misery. I just want to sleep and I can't even do that. I'm so tired of it all..."

Maris tightened his arms around him, wishing there was something, anything, he could do to make it better. He held Darling tight as a thousand regrets ripped him apart. "I know, sweetie. I've got you. I won't let you fall, I promise."

Swaying with Darling in his arms, Maris brushed the hair back from Darling's scarred face and kissed his bearded cheek before he spoke the words that broke his heart into pieces. "But we both know that I'm not what you need or want. No matter how much I love you, I can't heal you."

Tears swam in Darling's eyes, but not a single one fell. Darling's strength had always amazed him. No matter the firestorm, he'd always stood so proud and defiant in the midst of it.

Leaning his head back onto Maris's shoulder, Darling cupped his cheek in his gloved hand. "Why couldn't I be gay? It would be so easy to love you if I were. You've always been here for me, Mari. You've never hurt me. Not once."

The truth stung him as Maris thought back to all the times Darling had been ostracized, in need of a friend, and he'd been too afraid to publicly acknowledge him. But Darling never seemed to remember that part of their friendship. It didn't tear him apart the way it did Maris.

"You know that's not true, Dar. I got your ass kicked the first day we met."

Darling let out an unexpected tiny laugh at the memory. "But I won the fight."

"Yes, you did." Maris smiled as he saw that day so clearly in his mind. He'd been pinned to the school wall by a bully who'd been pounding on him. Out of nowhere, this tiny little red-haired boy had come charging in like a hurricane. Barely five years old, Darling had been short for his age. But what he lacked in height, he made up for in ferocity.

In no time at all, he'd beat the bully back and had him on the ground, crying for his mother. After making him swear he'd never even look at Maris again, Darling had stood up and come over to him. Forever proud and fierce, Darling had wiped the blood from his lips, then offered Maris his other hand. "Hi, I'm Darling Cruel. We should be friends."

Maris had fallen in love instantly.

And he'd been in love with Darling every day since.

"You have always been my champion," Maris whispered to him.

Darling closed his eyes as he clenched his fist in Maris's hair. "Why couldn't they have killed me, Mari? My mother's right. I have no reason to be here. I shouldn't be alive. The empire would be better off with Drake as governor and not a freak like me."

"Don't you dare talk like that!" Maris didn't want to think about a life without Darling in it. He couldn't face the pain of even the thought, never mind the reality. Not knowing where Darling was had been the worst time of his life.

He didn't care what condition Darling was in. He just needed him to be here.

"It's true and you know it," Darling said, his speech slurred as his hand fell away from Maris's hair. "I'm sick of hurting all the time, Mari. I just want the pain to stop. But it doesn't. It only worsens. I can't even dull it anymore." His words were really slurred now. "I just want..."

Maris tightened his arms around Darling as he finally passed out. "My poor baby." But at least Darling would have a few hours of rest now.

Maybe by tomorrow he'd feel a little better. Not likely, but he could hope.

Swinging Darling up in his arms, Maris carried him upstairs, to the governor's bedroom.

He lay Darling down on the large bed and removed his boots, hood, and gloves. His heart broke as he saw the damage they'd wrought on Darling's face, hands, and feet.

It was so wrong. Damn them for their cruelty.

Darling had been so beautiful in his youth. So flawlessly handsome. But first his own brother had given him the vertical scar on the left side of his face, and now this...

Bastards.

Maris started to remove the explosives that were woven around Darling's tunic, then caught himself. Knowing Darling, they were trip wired. It was extreme, but he understood that insanity, too. Every Cruel governor for the last three thousand years had been assassinated.

All of them.

It was one of the reasons why Darling had been so fascinated by electronics and explosives as a kid. As far back as Maris could remember, Darling had been obsessed with protecting himself from would-be assassins.

Ironically, it had been an assassin who finally quelled Darling's fear of them. Nykyrian had taught Darling every trick a trained assassin had. Even some that no one knew.

And Darling had learned well. He forgot nothing. If any member of his line stood a chance of making it to old age, it was he.

Maris covered him with a blanket.

At least he's talking to me again. That was something. But as he watched Darling finally sleep, he had the worst feeling that it was too late to bring him back from the insanity that had sunk its hooks into him. After all the things Darling had been through, Maris had never seen him like this.

His anger and rage were tangible.

"I just want the pain to stop." Darling's heartfelt words haunted him.

Maris's gaze fell to the scars on Darling's wrists that hadn't come from his attackers or Arturo. Those had been Darling's attempts to stop his pain when he was just a boy. Three times he'd tried to kill himself-once with drugs and twice by slashing his wrists. Three times they'd brought him back against his will. The only thing that had kept him from a fourth attempt had been Arturo's threat to kill Lise if Darling tried again.

Darling's entire life had been a study in trying to find shelter in the middle of an unrelenting storm that was determined to bring him to his knees.