Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) by Eresse

eyes widened. Preferring ignominious escape to a potentially lethal confrontation with the irate hethar , he darted for the door. But Dylen was faster. He barred the way, grabbing Ithan by the wrist when the latter tried to strike him. He flipped Ithan over on his stomach. Ithan landed hard, his nose and chin connecting agonizingly
    with the floor.
    Dylen quickly straddled Ithan’s back and, grabbing his arms, twisted them behind Ithan at a brutal angle.
    “ Heyas spawn!” he snarled. “What part of stop didn’t you comprehend?”
    “Wait, you don’t understand—!” Ithan yelped, spitting out the blood that trickled into his mouth from his bleeding nose.
    “What don’t I understand?” Dylen seethed. “That he said don’t and you still forced yourself on him?”
    “Nay, that isn’t—Aaahh!” Ithan looked over his shoulder pleadingly. “You’ll break my arm!”
    “I’ll break more than your arm, dog,” Dylen told him venomously. “I’m going to snap your spine and cripple you!”
    “Nay! Saints above, don’t!” Ithan screamed. “I didn’t do it! I swear I didn’t!”
    “Didn’t do what ?”
    “I didn’t rape him!”
    “Bollocks!”
    “I didn’t! I swear to Veres, I didn’t!” Ithan practically blubbered. “You have to listen. Let me explain. Please!”
    Dylen glared down at him. He suddenly rose, hauling Ithan to his feet. He dragged Ithan to the couch and roughly threw him onto it. Dylen sat down on the low table before him.
    “Talk,” he growled.
    Ithan launched into his explanation without further ado, stuttering and stumbling through it as fast as he could, acutely conscious of the murderous gleam in Dylen’s eyes.
    When he was done, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Dylen’s icy glare had not changed one whit, and he was convinced that life as he knew it was about to end.
    “You had better be telling the truth,” Dylen coldly said.
    “I am!” Ithan yelled desperately. “You have to believe me. I swear I’m not a rapist.
    I’m not!”
    Dylen continued to eye him malevolently.
    Ithan whimpered as a strange sensation came over him. His vision narrowed until he thought he was going blind. A weight settled in his chest—he found it hard to breathe, and his heart was virtually galloping. He clutched at his throat, gasping, choking, terrified beyond belief.
    *
    Dylen did not relent. He had learned long ago to use his gifts to help him tell truth from lie. To know who was upfront and who was operating from behind a wall of deceit.
    After all, his well-being sometimes depended on his ability to distinguish the normal and harmless from the sick of mind who gained pleasure from inflicting pain or worse on others.
    Not that he made it a habit to force himself into another’s consciousness. He neither enjoyed the experience nor sought to exploit his ability. Indeed, if he could avoid inflicting such an intrusion on anyone, he did and rarely regretted it. But this time, he did not care. Riodan’s shame and anguish remained in the forefront of his thoughts, and he would make the Deir who had done this to the youth pay.
    It did not take long for him to summon Ithan’s memories of that night. The Deir
    could not resist his command to yield his thoughts any more than he could stop breathing though it felt as if he would any moment. Dylen focused on the images and sounds that played out in Ithan’s mind.
    He saw Riodan as Ithan had—lying partly on his side on the skins before the hearth, tunic and shirt undone, Ithan’s fingers unbuttoning his breeches. Riodan pleaded with Ithan to stop as he struggled against the hands that yanked his breeches to his knees.
    Obviously slipping into a narcotic-induced haze, Riodan rolled onto his belly in a desperate attempt to crawl away. But Ithan caught him by the hips and pulled his drawers down.
    The bile rose in Dylen’s throat as the unseen Ithan prepared Riodan for his taking.
    The urge to tear the Deir apart strengthened until Ithan was