by Ana Calin
“As an energy worker who deals with elements, I didn’t expect the cold would affect you.”
“I can work with elements, but that doesn’t mean I can withstand them under any circumstances,” I manage. “I’m only parahuman, not a high supernatural like fae, things can quickly get too intense for me.”
Like right now, for example.
But the warmer I get, the more I realize how cold I’d actually been. It’s like layers of my skin defrost in his arms. Keeping my eyes closed helps, I can control my breathing better, and not give away all the things that this situation makes me feel. His scent of ember and wood seeps into my nostrils. The the latex is like a second skin, and my cheeks light up with shame when I think about that fact that it molds perfectly to the shape of my body, basically revealing me naked, only black and shiny. I can feel Xerxes’ eyes slide down my frame, checking me out in what I think is that way.
Realms, I have to get both his mind and mine off of sex, right now, before I’m so turned on that he can smell it.
“What do we do if the Grand Mage walks in, or one of his delegates, to fetch something, or—”
“You forget, Cerys,” he says in his low, manly voice. “I’m a fae king with restored powers. I can pick up sounds on a very wide range, and on many frequencies. If anyone comes anywhere near this room, I’ll know.”
“Still,” I press. “If the Grand Mage appears with guards, what do we do? Because I insist that you do not hurt them. Consider it a favor, just like this one.” I motion to the both of us, him warming me up, but I don’t open my eyes as I do.
“Just to ease your mind, I don’t expect the Grand Mage to walk into his private chamber with guards. In the worst case, he will leave them outside the door. Besides. He wouldn’t see us, not at first.” Even through my closed eyelids I can see darkness falling over the room, like a cloud covering the sun, casting shadow over a beach that was hot and shiny only a moment ago. I open my eyes slowly to shadows rising from Xerxes’ body, enveloping us like a cloak.
“It will look like a dark mist on his bed. He will approach slowly, carefully, to inspect the apparition, which is when I’ll grab him by his throat, before he can even make a sound.”
“You forget he is the Grand Mage. He can use a revealing spell, and discover us without coming one step away from the door. Besides, the broken window and the cold are telltale.”
“No simple revealing spell will work on me, because I’m not using conventional magic to conceal us, I’m using the shadow and smoke that my body produces. So basically, the Grand Mage would be seeing the real thing. As for the window—”
He casts a shadow over it as well.
“High realms,” I whisper as I watch the shadow transform into a special kind of mist that not only patches the glass, but also blocks the draught. By the time the Grand Mage enters the chamber, the room temperature will be restored.
“But if he notices the darkness as soon as he walks in, he’ll call the guards,” I insist, worried that it will come to bloodshed after all. “What will you do then?”
“Even if he does get his men to assist him, I’ll leap and get him before he can even blink, and I’ll demand that he calls his guards off. That way they won’t be harmed, but they’ll have to stay in the room for the rest of the show. But I promise you—” He leans in, and breathes in my scent. What in the cursed realms? I thought he was as much against our connection as I am. “I won’t hurt them physically, no matter what.”
“You have an answer ready for everything, don’t you?” I mumble. My breathing is so shallow by now, it’s hard to speak.
“I suppose.”
I turn my face to him briskly. The mattress springs lightly under me as he tenses. I stare daringly into his face.
“Why do you insist on speaking to him personally, why not do this my way?”
“First of all, I’m sure you see the sheer absurdity of searching for info and proof in this humongous place. I mean, you have a good plan, but we’re still not very likely to find something in due time, not by a long shot. Your plan is brilliant, but still applicable only in theory. Someone is bound to discover us. People are bound to die, because I wouldn’t be able to leave any one of them alive. Our final purpose must stay secret until we’ve achieved it. If your liege Lysander were to hear about it—”
“Lysander is not my liege.”
“You fought on his side a year ago.”
“I didn’t fight. I followed my brother, who took me away from my shop, my life, the city I grew up in, in order to protect me from you, and for that he needed Lysander.”
“I wasn’t looking for you. He didn’t have to—”
“Your enemies would have searched for me sooner or later. It was already transpiring that I would become your fated mate. They would have tried to kill you by killing me—I’m sure you’ve heard the rumor.”
“Please refresh my memory.”
Hot blood pools in my cheeks, remembering what he did with the warlock who spoke about this at Castle Rock. He took the man’s voice away. “Why do you have to make things hard on me all the time? It’s not like you don’t know Zillard’s theory—that once the connection is created between us, I could become your heart. And that killing me would be equivalent to striking you dead, as absurd as it sounds.”
“It’s absurd indeed.” He measures me like the idea alone was offensive to him. He rolls to the other side of the bed, putting distance between us. “I trust you’re warm enough now?”
“I am,” I reply between my teeth, folding my arms across my chest. I’d sit up, but I’m not sure if that would rip through the dark curtain he created around us to hide us from sight when the Grand Mage walks in. I wonder how much longer we will have to wait.
“All right, and say you grab the Grand Mage by the throat, tie him down in a chair, and interrogate him. What if he refuses to cooperate no matter what?”
“He won’t. He knows better than to cross me.”
“But crossing Apophis is just as dangerous. If you don’t kill him for withholding information, Apophis will for giving it away.”
“No one withstands properly conducted torture.”
“Properly conducted?” I roll onto my stomach, my eyes shooting daggers at him. “Are you serious? That is your plan? What if he truly doesn’t know where the Firestone is?”
“In that case he will give us the next best thing. If he doesn’t know where it is, he surely knows someone who does.”
“And you intend to torture that information out of him?”
He’s been avoiding my eyes, but now they pierce into mine. Normally, his glare alone would be enough for me to back off, but this time I’m too angry.
“It doesn’t have to be that way, you know. I’m certain intimidation will do the trick, why are you assuming the worst?” he says.
“Because I have to get down to the worst case scenario with you, I have to know what you’re capable of.”
“Why?” He snaps so close to me that the breath catches in my throat. His features sharpen so much, his cheekbones and his jaw could cut through stone. “I am the King of Flames, the villain you have been hiding from. I am the one who wanted to take over all the worlds, bring chaos and destruction to all of them, overthrow all leaders and even take Lucifer’s place on the throne of Hell. Don’t you already know I’m capable of the worst? Why probe into it like this?”
“Because I trust you despite all that, and I have to believe I’m not fooling myself.” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. I can’t believe it just slipped out like that. But his attitude pressed the truth right out of me like the juice from a fruit.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean it exactly like that.”
Xerxes
TRUST. CERYS DARK TRUSTS me. After I confirmed that I was all of the things the worlds hate me for. It’s true that I did it in a moment of blind rage, I was giving her what she needed in order to keep hating me. Her kind, people who believe themselves goo
d, they love to hate my kind. But it’s me and others like me that keep real evil at bay. Apophis and Orion are only a couple of the many dark forces of the universe that keep trying to breach our system’s defenses, and it takes villains like me, monsters capable of the worst to keep them from cutting through the realms like knives through butter.
“Is it true?” Cerys whispers. “That you wanted to overthrow even Lucifer himself?”
I started down this road, and I can’t go back now. I give her the truth, but without the explanation.
“Yes.”
“Realms,” she breathes, covering her face with her hands.
I try, I really try to keep my eyes on her head, on the mess of blue-black hair, but they slip down her frame dressed in black latex.
What the fuck was I thinking, getting so close to her? Taking her in my arms, basically groping her body. Taking advantage of the first opportunity to touch her, to plaster her to me. To breathe in the scent of her skin. I wasn’t myself, I wasn’t thinking.
Maybe I’ve just been without a woman for too long, and lust overwhelmed me. It doesn’t help that she’s wearing that catsuit that molds to her perfectly shaped body. She might not be the most athletic woman, but she’s got perfectly round breasts, a tiny waist, and love handles that I’m burning to grab.
“Besides, getting to the Firestone isn’t the only reason we need the Grand Mage,” I say in an attempt to shift my attention away from my stiffening cock. “There’s the blood oath, too.”
“You know what, I actually thought I could make do without a blood oath. I really felt I could trust you, even Nazarean did, but I guess we were both wrong.” She strokes her soft-furred companion, who’s just jumped onto the bed. “It rarely happens with him, but it does.”
“You rely on the cat to choose who you trust?”
“Nazarean is my radar. He picks up people’s vibes, he knows when they mean well or harm. And it seemed like you meant well.” She sounds disappointed, but I try to ignore it.
“And I do. For the time being. But that doesn’t mean I’ll change my ways in order to accommodate your shallow views of the world.”
“Shallow views,” she says, baring her small, pearly white teeth. “You call shallow views—”
She stops short when the bolt moves in the lock. My ears shift as I adjust my hearing. Fuck. Completely engrossed in conversation with her, angry at my own lust, I forgot to keep my ears trained on the sounds outside.
We both hold our breath as the Grand Mage walks into the room. My entire body flexes. I’m ready to leap over and silence him before he can make a sound if he notices us, but he doesn’t. The door falls shut behind him, and no guards follow. Good, so Cerys won’t get to see me at my worst. Not that I care. Or I shouldn’t care. Let her hate me, make sure this connection doesn’t deepen, or better yet, that it dies soon.
We both wait, watching from the bed as the Grand Mage disrobes, remaining in a simple white underwear gown. He’s clearly eager to get to something, since he doesn’t even notice the mist covering the window. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this man, when he came to me with information about Lysander’s plans, and his allies. Lysander was already getting close to the Sea Queen, and he didn’t like it.
I could act right away, but I’m curious. Observing your opponent always comes with leverage. The man is in such a keen hurry to whatever he has planned that he doesn’t notice anything is different about his chamber. The temperature returned to normal since I patched the window with mist, otherwise the cold would have been a dead giveaway, but without it, the Grand Mage doesn’t realize anything is wrong.
He walks to his wardrobe that is apparently filled with shiny robes, and retrieves something from the very back, probably a hidden stash, something made of leather. As he drapes the outfit on the back of his desk chair, my lips draw in a grin—it’s a kink leather outfit. Ripped pants, and a studded vest. When he opens a drawer and retrieves a whip, Cerys can’t hold back a gasp.
The man spins around with the whip in his hand.
Now he sees the shadow shimmering on his bed, and his eyes widen. Damn it. He won’t take a step toward us before he calls the guards, but the moment I read the intention in his eyes, I leap from the bed. The shadow shielding Cerys and me dissipates, and the Grand Mage shrinks back as I come down on him like lightning.
He opens his mouth to scream, but before he gets to even inhale, I’ve got him by his throat. I let him have a good look at my face.
“At last, we meet again,” I say through my teeth as sweat breaks out all over him, coating his livid face. It’s an exhilarating feeling, having the Grand Mage in my hands stripped of his robes and jewels, as parahuman as anyone else. He’s got long, lined cheeks, a prominent nose, small lips, and eyes as dark as the night. His irises are liquid like clouds moving in the sky, the only natural status symbol for a powerful mage.
But now, with my hand clenched around his throat, none of his abilities is going to help him, because he can’t speak out spells. I see he’s smart enough to not even try and draw a rune in the air. He’s aware I’d snap his neck in an instant.
“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” I begin, sensing Cerys approaching with small steps. I can already see her in my mind, wringing her hands, a look on her face that apologizes for my behavior. “I’m going to sit you down in that chair, so you can catch your breath and find your voice. When you do, you will keep your tone down. My partner here will bolt the door, so no one disturbs us, and if anyone knocks, you say you want privacy. If you as much as try to get your guards’ attention—because I know you have two stationed outside your door, I can hear them breathing—you will be of no use to me, and I will break your neck. Do I make myself clear? Blink twice if I do.”
He does, and I sit him down into the chair, crouching down so I can look him in the face from the same level.
“Milord,” he says in a bruised voice when all I do is stare at him in a way that could crush his skull, rubbing the front of his neck with his hand. “You recovered?”
“Surprised?”
“Overjoyed. I—I was hoping—”
“Really, you were hoping?”
“Yes, hoping that you’d made it, that you would return with fresh power, with—”
“What a coincidence, that you should mention fresh power. It’s the very reason I came to see you. A year ago Lysander and his wife Arielle blew my core to smithereens, and I think you might be able to help me get what I need to rebuild it.”
He looks at me confused. “But... I can feel the power coming off of you, you have it, it’s all there.”
“Yes, courtesy of my partner here. But it’s not permanent.” I motion in the general direction of Cerys behind me. “I trust you’re acquainted with Miss Cerys Dark, is that correct? Or at least with her brother. He’s only twenty-something, but still one of the most dangerous warlocks in the world, son of Hades.”
“Yes, I am acquainted with him, as a matter of fact—”
“Well, unlike her brother, Miss Cerys Dark is a light mage, as you can see by her glow. She restored my powers, but they are still draining from me. In order to regain it all for good I need back what was stolen from me centuries ago—the Firestone Crystal of the Fire Court Crown.”
“And you think I have it?” the man breathes, fear sweat glistening on his face. It’s disgusting, how such a powerful man can look so helpless without his robes and jewels. All he’s got is the bleached-out gown he’s been wearing underneath his daywear, and the leather whip he forgot he’s holding. I take it slowly from his hand, and run my hand through the leather lashes.
“I don’t think you have it, no. You wouldn’t have been so stupid as to keep it from me for so long. But I was wondering if you might know where Apophis’ Wraiths hid it.” Danger lurks behind the calmness of my voice, and the way I stroke the whip. He watches the lashes slide between my fingers, shaking and gripping tightly to the edge of his chair besides his thighs. He looks so easy
to break, despite the viciousness imprinted on his face.
He doesn’t answer, and I can feel the tension gathering in both him and Cerys. She, as a creature of light, would do anything to avoid a man being tortured until he tells it all, even one as despicable as the Grand Mage. I wonder—if she knew all the things I know about this man, all the sins and crimes he’s committed, would she feel differently? Probably not.
“Your silence confuses me,” I press. “You don’t know, or you won’t tell?”
“Milord,” he croaks, his lips white and quivering, but he doesn’t know what to say. He tries to smile, to ease some of the pressure that’s filled the room.
I inspect the whip calmly, demonstratively. “I’m curious, Marcus, what did you intend to use this whip for?” I walk around his chair, my finger brushing over his leather outfit. “Why these clothes? Is it some kind of kink?”
He still doesn’t answer, but I’m not sure whether he doesn’t want to, or he simply can’t, because the wood is shaking under him as he trembles.
“Your Highness, please,” Cerys tries. My eyes dart over to her. How considerate of her to address me as such in front of the Grand Mage, even though we’re on first name basis in private. I like how Your Highness sounds from her mouth, but it isn’t lost on me that she didn’t use ‘Milord,’ like she heard the others do.
“Don’t worry, Miss Dark, I won’t be too hard on good old Marcus.” I rest a hand on his shoulder from behind, making him flinch. “But I will ask you nicely for your help, Grand Mage.” I bend down to his ear. My nostrils flare at the smell of his sweat—the scent of fear. I always had a soft spot for it, when it came from those who misused their power to suppress the weaker. “I’m convinced you know something about the Firestone.”
“I, I don’t—”
“Oh, come on. Nothing of value ever gets transported through the Flipside without you finding out about it. You’re much too greedy to let such opportunities slip by. Just like I’m too curious to let your leather outfit go without questions,” I hiss in his ear, so close that my fangs touch his skin. A shudder runs through his entire body. “So tell me. What are you doing with it? What were your plans with that whip?”