by Bailey Dark
He drags his gaze over me as I step out of the pool. His dangerous eyes are heated, narrowed on me. I reach for my dress, knowing the light fabric will cling to me and never be the same after I wet it. But I can’t stand naked in front of my betrothed all night. Even though his eyes are telling me I could. He lifts a hand and I flinch, not sure if I expect him to stroke my skin or strike me. But then a towel appears in his grip. He tosses it to me, moving his gaze from my slick figure to my eyes.
"I'm surprised you found this place, it rarely chooses to appear to anyone," he says, breaking the silence. He studies me curiously and then he closes the distance between us. I lurch backward, fear and anticipation thrumming in my veins. He looms over me, a familiar move by now, but I still relish it. I hold the towel tightly between us, the only thing separating my bare skin from his silky clothes. His fingers trace my jaw gently and my heart stirs with emotion. "Tell me, little mortal, how is it that you found it?"
“A window,” I say. My voice is husky and raw, and his eyes glimmer at the sound of it.
“You saw it through a window? Little mortal, there are no windows that overlook this garden.” His voice is tantalizing, hypnotizing, and I lean into it unconsciously. Our lips hover a breath apart, my body aches and throbs, desperate for just a simple touch. My tongue flicks out over my lips, wetting them, and the subtle movement breaks his focus. He pulls away, eyes hardening with anger again until he looks just as he normally does. I bite my tongue, clamping my mouth shut so I don’t mewl my disappointment.
He studies me curiously, arms crossed again as if to bar himself from me. “This was my mother’s garden before she chose to leave the Underworld. People are forbidden from entering this place, and yet somehow, it opened for you. Curious.”
“I didn’t know,” I say softly, tugging on my gown to hide from him.
“It matters not.” He waves a hand lazily. “It opened for you. You may visit whenever you like.”
“Thank you.” I am grateful. I needed somewhere like this garden, somewhere peaceful and blessedly empty. Once my dress is mostly laced, I abandon the rest of it, I would need help from a lady’s maid. “Your mother?”
“Desona,” Kane drawls, a mask of boredom on his face. “The Goddess of Life.”
My brows raise in surprise. Desona is one of the most revered deities in the world above, one of the Three, though I never knew she birthed Death himself. “Will she mind if I use her garden?” I ask. I want to ask why she left and if she will return—if she even knows about me—but I hold back.
“It doesn’t matter, the Underworld is my realm,” Kane says bitingly, lips pressed into a thin line. I nod solemnly but then his eyes soften and he sighs. “If it makes you happy, I want you to use it.”
My heart flutters in my chest as heat flushes through me. I smile stupidly at Kane, his words sparking fresh happiness in me. “You’re nicer than you let people believe,” I say. “Kinder than you want people to think.”
Kane grins, but the smile isn’t one of joy, it’s a cruel grin. He’s closed the distance between us in a single stride and presses my back up against the stone wall surrounding the garden. I gasp, winded from the force of the jolt. His hand wraps around one my wrists painfully, and the other caresses my throat. I can hardly breathe as his eyes rove over my neck, as if he would tear my esophagus out of my throat with nothing but his teeth.
“You know nothing about me,” he hisses. “Stupid, naïve, mortal girl.”
I hiccup as fear courses through me and his lips lower to my neck, teeth bared. I wish I had the dagger my father gave to me before the day Kane collected me. Years of training in self-defense make my fingers twitch but I hold back. His teeth graze my flesh and my fear skyrockets. “But,” I breathe. “I want to know you. Please.”
He pulls back, breath wafting over my cheek. His eyes are dark, as black as night, and just as powerful. “You want to know me?” His lips brush over my cheek, sweet and gentle. But when he leers at me, hand tightening around my wrist, I know he’s anything but sweet and gentle. “You can know me. But only if you fuck like a grown woman, naïve little mortal.”
His words, spoken with such silky condescension I almost lean into him, hit me like a boulder. I flush scarlet, anger and shame blooming in me. He knows. He knows I had to keep myself pure ever since I was a child. I hardly even touched myself in anticipation of our betrothal. Kane is no fool. He speaks only to humiliate me.
I bring my knee up into his groin. Kane doubles over, releasing me and I drop shakily. I don’t wait for him to recover before I dart past him and out of the garden. I slam the door shut behind me, adrenaline pumping in my veins. I assaulted a god. I struck my future husband. I look nervously over my shoulder, afraid the door will fly open and Kane will storm through. Suddenly, I yelp as I rush into a hard chest. I bounce off it, looking up just long enough to recognize Willem.
Our last encounter in the dining room flits through my mind and I swerve around him before he has a chance to speak. The Underworld is no place for a human like me. Everywhere I go, I'll be surrounded by creatures that are stronger than me, smarter than me, and crueler than me. I slip into my room and lock the door. My father was right to train me to fight. If only they could have taught me to be brave.
Chapter 6
Kabe
Pain lances through me as Briar’s knee makes contact with my groin. Her aim is remarkable despite the fact I never saw her eyes flit towards her target before she struck. She pushes away from me, running out the door without a backward glance. I lean against the stone wall surrounding the garden, trying to collect my breath as the pain fades. I feel a flicker of anger that quickly douses itself to become amusement.
The little mortal struck me. I feel a smile prick at my lips and I straighten, the pain dulling to a light ache. I never expected Briar to react in such a way to me. I had thought she was nothing more than a timid, mostly useless, mortal girl. But she’s quickly proven there’s some fire in her. She’ll need it if she’s to survive here; survive me.
I turn to the door and slip out into the hall. She’s already gone, leaving only light traces of her scent; jasmine and cherries. Destructively sweet. Her face pops into my mind as I breathe her in. Grey eyes wide, brows quirked with fright, her lips parted and wet. A shiver trails up my spine and I purse my lips. Perhaps I pushed her too far too soon. My cruelty must be followed by affection, and only be inflicted lightly or I’ll turn her against me entirely. I curse myself internally for acting so rashly.
The sight of her naked, dripping wet had me wrestling with my darker urges. It was a challenge to control myself, and the pent-up passion became aggression easily. I feel that tickle down my spine again as I think of her.
“Domestic troubles?” Willem asks, appearing around the corner. He grins, clearly enjoying the tension in the air.
“Nothing that can’t be remedied,” I say smoothly.
He leans against the wall, stretching his swings slightly as he yawns. “Then you won’t mind if I pay your betrothed a little visit? Perhaps I can cheer her up—pave the way for her forgiveness.”
I study him intently. Though Willem is closer to me than any other creature in this realm or above, we aren’t without our petty competitions. Even over women. But he’s earned my trust tenfold. I wave a lazy hand even though my chest burns at the thought of Briar with Willem. “Do as you wish,” I say, keeping my tone carefully relaxed and perfectly precise.
He grins cruelly. “Excellent.”
My Second disappears back around the corner in the direction of Briar’s room and I grind my teeth. Images of the two of them coiled together on her bed flash through my mind and I gnash my teeth. Fists clenched, I pivot on my heel and stalk away. The further I get from her, the better off I will be. But no distance makes the visions of Briar leaning into Willem disappear. They get stronger, more persistent, more detailed the further I go until my rage is brimming. It spills out of me with a roar, and I lash out at the nearest target;
a painting. I tear my fingers through it, my nails elongating into razor-sharp claws.
The small bureau nearby is next, smashed to pieces by my heels. I leave a wake of destruction and fury behind me, letting it ooze from my being like a fog. It curls through the halls, seeking targets for pain and injury. The glass in the windows tremble with the force of it. The carpet melts under my heel as I stride down the hall, singeing everything I touch. Only when the acrid smell of burning fabric reaches my nose do I stop. I inhale deeply, harnessing my power and anger again before I do more damage. Only five times before have I let my fury get this far, and only one of those times resulted in the death of innocents.
But I won’t let it happen again.
I press my claws into my chest, pushing until I pierce the skin. They recede back into well-trimmed nails and I sag as the spark of anger burns into nothingness; just a wisp of memory. My eyes slip closed and I steady myself in darkness. Sharp footsteps reach my ears and I open them in time to see a messenger round the corner. Nothing more than a mortal soul, his gray eyes flit over the hall, taking in the destruction.
“Your Majesty,” he says, bowing.
“What is it?” I ask, waving a hand behind me and sending my magic to repair the broken bits of furniture and singed flooring.
“There’s been a murder,” the messenger says, his voice laced with fear. “The body was found without a soul.”
My jaw twitches at the news. Another victim of the Nephilim. “Show me,” I demand, striding towards the messenger.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he stammers, turning back the way he came.
I follow the messenger out of the castle walls and into the city. Built of gray stone and black obsidian, the city is a hodgepodge of different architectural styles. Its eccentricity is part of its beauty, and we move purposefully through the wide streets and boulevards, down through the different levels of the city. The people here don’t bother me, they don’t gawk and stare. I can smell the fear rippling over them, but they don’t let it stop them from bustling through the streets on their errands.
We jog down another staircase, this one worn and crumbling, into the narrow streets of the Moarte district. Here, the homes are tall and thin, with curved roofs and arched windows. The streets are narrow and rambling, but the messenger seems to know his way. I can smell the body before I see it. We round a corner into an alley with a dead end. There's a crowd of city guards near the end, staring silently at the ground.
I let my power ooze towards them, alerting them to my presence without speaking a word. The guards shudder as tendrils of my dark power coil around their necks. They move aside, standing at the ready as I pass between them. The corpse is a woman, a Fae by the looks of her ears and fanged canines. Her mouth is open, gaping, her tongue stiff and jutting out of her mouth in rigor mortis. I crouch beside the body. She’s splayed on the ground, her hair flowing out around her head like a halo. Blood is caked beneath her nails, as if she put up a fight.
But it’s her eyes I focus on. They’re empty, blank, and dry. The pupils have dilated to cover the entire iris, but there is no richness to the black. It’s as if nothing were there at all. I sit back on my haunches. This is the third corpse, the third soul-leeched victim in my city. I run my tongue over my teeth angrily. There hasn’t been a rogue Nephilim this active in thousands of years. And it’s right under my nose, taunting me.
I lay a hand on the woman’s forehead and close my eyes. My magic stirs, seeping from me into her and then back again as I play the images of her last memories in my mind. I can hear and feel her heartbeat, pounding quickly like a rabbit’s. Her breath is hard and fast, panicked. I see the alley, the sight bobbing as she runs. But she isn’t fast enough, and a hand grips her from behind. A scream wrenches from her throat, so vicious I taste blood. When the hand closes over her mouth and I feel her soul ripped away from her, I open my eyes.
Whoever her attacker was, she never saw his face. I pull my hand away, letting the remnants of her life fall away from me. The guards watch solemnly, armor clanking with each slight shift. “Make this your highest priority,” I say to the commanding officer as I rise. “Double patrols and report any suspicious Nephilim to me immediately.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the commanding officer says gruffly, bowing.
I leave the messenger and the guards behind to their work. I doubt they’ll find the culprit. Nephilim are clever creatures, able to disguise their bright, white wings if they don’t want to be recognized. Unless the Nephilim is a mad fool, he’ll look just like anyone else. I grit my teeth as I make my way back to the castle. First the Carrion House, and now the Moarte district. The Nephilim is only choosing locations with seedy reputations, places where an assault might go ignored or unnoticed. He’s clever.
By the time I arrive back in the castle, I’ve made up my mind to conduct my own investigation. If word of these attacks spreads too quickly without at least some results, the people won’t be pleased. Fear can make people do terrible, surprising things. Like rebel against Death. I push open the door to my office, resolving to interview known Nephilim. They’ll turn on each other in a moment’s notice if it means they live.
I pause, noticing a golden envelope on my desk. Only one person would insist on sending such an opulent letter. I groan, reaching for it. With a nail, I slit open the envelope and withdraw the letter. My lip curls as I read my mother’s flourishing handwriting. I drop the letter back on the desk and toss my head back with a sigh. I had hoped to keep news of Briar from her for as long as I could, and I suppose twenty years is an accomplishment. But now that she knows, she’ll be here within the week. And she’ll expect a celebration, a celebration that I rightfully should have already had for Briar.
I sag into my chair, legs splayed before me. I can’t stop my mother from entering my realm, though I wish I could. Rolling my neck to work out the kinks I sit forward and pull fresh paper towards me. I have work to do. It will do me no good to mull over my mother’s visit or Briar’s friendship with Willem. No, I think as I dive into my work, the Nephilim pose the greater threat than either of them.
Chapter 7
Briar
My room is awash in a rosy glow, courtesy of the ever-setting sun hanging low in the sky. I pace anxiously, eyes darting towards the door at the slightest sound. Kane has yet to come and berate me for striking him, and his absence is only making me more nervous as I imagine what kind of consequences he must be plotting. Up above, I heard stories of Death plunging traitors into vats of hot tar or drowning them only to revive them to do it all over again. I shudder. It’s difficult for me to envision Kane like that, but fear takes my imagination to wild, unpredictable places.
Suddenly, there’s a sharp rap at the door. I swallow hard and turn to face it. It’s better that it happens now instead of later. At least now, I won’t worry myself over it any longer. I take a deep breath to steel myself before opening the door. But it’s not Kane’s frame that fills the doorway. Willem waits in the hall, his wings tucked tightly against his back. I drag my eyes away from the feathers and to his eyes, expecting them to be hard and vicious.
“Briar, may I come in?” Willem asks, surprisingly polite.
My brows raise in surprise, but I stand aside mutely. He grins, sauntering inside. My stomach is a coil of knots as he turns in the space, taking it in. My few belongings are scattered across the desk or shoved haphazardly into the closet. I straighten my back, trying to appear brave as I wait for him to tell me what consequences Kane has in store for me.
“Stop that, you look like a child waiting for the switch,” he says, a grin pulling at his lips.
“That’s not far from the truth,” I admit, relaxing only slightly.
He crosses the room to the balcony, throwing the doors open wide. “You have nothing to worry about. Kane won’t be punishing you for defending yourself against him—he isn’t a complete idiot,” Willem teases. My lips pinch together at his brazen words. No one in Ryrn would ever dare to s
peak that way of my father. “Besides, he’ll have forgotten it by now.”
“So, you do know,” I say, picking nervously at a fingernail. “Did he send you here?”
“Kane?” Willem snorts. “No. I came because when I saw you in the hall, you looked upset.”
“Oh.” My voice falls flat as I hide the tremor of curiosity that flutters through my chest at his words.
He turns to me, pale blue eyes flashing with something like melancholy. "As a Reaper, I've seen many mortals upset, morose, even devastated. Usually it means nothing to me. Mortal tears are simply annoyances. But when I saw you, time froze. I understood your heart pounded with fear, regret, pain, and sorrow. I had to follow you."
I don't know the words to speak, so I simply stare at him. Our eyes meet and his pupils dilate until almost all of his icy irises are covered in darkness. No man has ever spoken such words to me before. They're the kind of words girls dream of hearing someday from a lover. I bite the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to be swept away by his silver tongue. Willem waits, cocking his head to the side. His long hair spills over his shoulders and down to his chest at the movement, and I suddenly wonder what it would be like to run my fingers through it—if it's a silky as it seems.
“You’re a difficult one,” Willem purrs, breaking the silence. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Difficult?” I echo.
His gaze makes me feel like a rabbit in the sights of a diving hawk, too weak to escape its talons. “Perhaps Kane and I both underestimated you, little Pet.” He shrugs, eyes losing the predatory edge. “Yes, difficult. Mortals are, on the whole, untrustworthy creatures and weak-minded. I had expected the same, but you seem to resist the Will of creatures like me quite well.”