From The Shadows: Book 2 in the Mortisalian Saga

by Stock, L. J.

  “You need to be here. You will have to partially heal me so it looks as though I have old wounds. They can't all be fresh. It will stink of a set up. My father is a smart man. He will know we're setting him up if I don't have older injuries.”

  “Shannon—”

  “You,” he whispered.

  I wanted to ignore him and stomp away. I wanted to act as though this wasn't happening, but I'd set the plan in motion and whether or not I was involved, the train was on the tracks, and there was no derailing it now. My friend was asking me for my encouragement and care. The very least I could do was help him and support him the only way I could.

  I gave him one short nod and stepped to the side, where Shannon gripped my trembling hands in hers, and Alexa stepped to my other side. They both knew I would try to stop this madness if I was left to my own devices. Alec and Zander took an arm each and held the large man, my friend, steady while the man I loved stepped forward with dark eyes full of pain. He looked to me only once before he swung and his fist made contact with Grigori's cheek. I turned my head, unable to watch even as the sound reached my ears.

  The beating went on for longer than I could stand, and I winced every time a hit made its mark or a groan of pain was emitted. It felt wrong, so wrong, and I was ready to scream for Damon to stop. My whole body trembled with my need to do something to stop this plan I’d set in motion. This senseless beating should not have been happening, even with Grigori’s consent, and my whole body leaned forward as I contemplated how to end it, but thankfully, it didn't come to that. The first wave died down before the words reached my lips, or my body had taken a step.

  Shannon and Alexa released my hands the moment the other men helped Grigori to the floor. There were cuts on his cheeks and under his eyes, red stained his brow as the blood seeped from horrible gashes and cuts that ran in jagged lines, and his lips were already swelling purple and magenta. Sickness rolled in my stomach as I fell to my knees beside him, my hands raised but too afraid to touch him and hurt him further. I was so angry with myself for coming up with this plan and I was furious at Damon for being the one to volunteer to smack Grigori around. I was also pissed that Grigori had agreed to any of it.

  I finally placed a hand on either side of his face and sent healing waves through myself and into him, making the power uneven so they would be in different stages of healing. The group around me closed in, their eyes drinking in this new power that had come a long way over time and waited with baited breath.

  “That's enough, dorogaya moya,” Grigori slurred through still swollen lips. “He must believe this. You healing me fully will only have Damon working on me doubly.”

  “I really don't like this,” I whispered, dropping my hands into my lap as another tear rolled slowly down my cheek. “I promised you that you'd never have to endure this again and here you are.”

  “This...” He trailed off, his free hand gripping his ribs. “Is my choice.”

  “Doesn't mean I have to like it.”

  He broke into a painful looking smile and nodded to someone behind me.

  I knew who it was without looking, and I held my hand out for him to take as he pulled me from the floor. The raw bloodiness on his knuckles made my stomach turn and resentment for myself run through me. I rested my hand over his and sent a healing wave of light through myself and into him to heal the damage done. It was more powerful than what I had used on Grigori, but my aim was to heal him fully.

  “Thank you,” Damon whispered, leading me to Shannon and Alexa as Alec and Zander helped Grigori up to his feet. I really didn't want to stay and watch more of the brutality, but I intrinsically knew that Grigori wanted me there for moral support. It was the only thing I had to offer him, so I stayed, swallowing the lump in my throat as he stood up against another beating.

  It seemed to take forever to unfold, but in reality it could only have been a couple of minutes. I hated seeing the brutality of it. I winced with every contact made even though I knew it was staged. That didn’t mean Damon was going easy on him. He couldn't if it was going to be convincing. Just as Grigori had said, one slip up and Sentarka would know it was a ruse. I, however, was still questioning whether any of this pain and bloodshed was worth it.

  When the task was done, Grigori was on the ground in a ball, panting for breath as his blood danced free from the myriad of cuts he now had littering his body. The urge to heal him was more than I could fight, so I let my friends anchor me. I wouldn't have him go through all of this pain and call it off. I should have been more adamant to begin with. I never should have let it happen.

  “Grigori,” I called quietly as they led him gently to the stairs of the dungeon. “You want out of there. You need a break, anything... You tell the guards that you will force them to watch you eat my heart.”

  “What?” Damon growled.

  “It has to be believable,” I hissed. “You need to make sure all of the guards know what this means. If he needs to go back in, this will ensure that the guards would be dragging him off for a beating. Oh, and Gori,” I said apologetically, turning to him. “One more thing. Could you make sure he can't escape the cell with magic?”

  He nodded with a ghost of a smile on his lips. I wasn't sure what it was for, but I hoped I had thought of everything. I needed him to be safe.

  “Promise me you'll get out if you need to.”

  He nodded, but that wasn't good enough for me. He was a proud man, and a strong man. He would take it all if it meant doing his job, but I didn't want him to go through any more discomfort for this. I needed to know that he would call uncle if he needed out. I needed him to say the words.

  “Promise me. Give me your word. I will not lose you over this.”

  “I give you my word,” he mumbled. He met my eyes and I could see he was resigned to do anything that was needed of him. Yet, the fire in his gaze told me he would never break his word to me. It was all I had to go on. With a nod from him, he was dragged from my sight and into the cold wall that led deep below the ground and into the cells where Sentarka was being held.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Damon followed me toward the main part of the palace and didn’t say a word. The king and the others had decided to check on the situation around us now that Grigori was in place and broke off from our small party, which left the two of us alone. There was a lingering silence between us as I caught glimpses of our new home. I had only been in the lower receiving rooms and the dungeons so far and it wasn't exactly an ideal first glance, but the moment we crested the stairs and slipped through the tapestry I'd rejected earlier that evening, my breath caught in my throat.

  As with the other palace, the stone walls stood tall and strong around us, towering high above. The hall reminded me of the one I had passed through so many times before, yet it was also different. There was a balcony running around the top with deep recesses that I could only imagine led to the other wings of the palace. The lower walls already had the ornamental tapestries and paintings in place, which I imagined was the reason it felt so much like home as we walked slowly along the large runner carpet. At either end of the hall there were staircases that wound to the balcony above. There were four in total and I could only imagine this would expedite any evacuations that became necessary. It seemed built for beauty and practicality, something Brendaro had not.

  I wondered briefly whether the tapestries hid the passages as they had before. They'd saved my life in my old home, and I could only imagine infusing the same theory here would help us in the long run. My father had no doubt built this as a stronghold that would keep us in as much as it would keep others out, which also meant it should be self-sustaining. I had no doubt it would keep us safe the moment we figured out where every passage and room led us. My father was a smart man, which meant escape would be obtained from any room we were located in. Even technology seemed incorporated subtly. I could see small cameras well hidden in the design of the walls.

  Damon led us toward a split corr
idor that was situated in the middle of the main hall. It led us to a slightly narrowed and shallower version of the one we'd passed through only without the balcony. The decorations were the same as they had been in the corridor that had led to my father’s wing before. It was mostly the story of our family's heritage, minus the tapestry of me and my child that I'd hacked to pieces in a fit of rage.

  “Why are we in my father's wing?” I asked, my voice slightly more hostile than I'd intended, my eyes lingering on some of the decorative sconces that were placed evenly down the hall.

  “It's not just your father’s. It’s the royal wing. You have personal wings that branch off from here. He thought it would be better to keep you close together.”

  Damon started to point to doors as we walked. There was a communal dining room, living room and meeting room in the initial corridor. When we reached another leading from the main one, he informed me it was my father's wing, which had a bedchamber, personal living room and study, and a couple of rooms for his personal staff. A second wing was for my mother, grandmother, and brother's family. The third led to my own wing.

  Damon pointed to doors as we walked. There was a room for my personal guard, a room for Melody and any other ladies I should obtain, and one for my personal secretary, Evander. I had a living room and study, too, as well as a room for Damon, which he informed me would be the nursery once we were married. Unable to let my mind travel to the future, I ignored the statement and pushed open the door to my bedchamber.

  It was huge, as the last one had been, but it was more fitted to my style. The decor was somewhere in the midst of medieval and contemporary, and though the design seemed like an odd mix, it worked well and felt like home. It was all sleek lines and neutral colors. The bed was huge but inviting and the windows—too narrow for anyone to get through—could be opened to let in the air from the lake that looked as though it surrounded us. The more I studied it, the more I realized that the palace had very cleverly been built on an island in the middle of a lake that filled a crater. There was only one way on, and one way off. I had a view of the wide expanse of the lake and the tree-lined ridge of the crater in the distance. I only knew there was a bridge because of the shadows cast by the moon. The view and the room were beautiful, and it was mine.

  As much as I wanted to take everything in and enjoy my new surroundings, I knew it was useless. My confusion and anger from what had transpired below the palace came back to me in a vivid flood of images. Seeing Grigori bleeding at Damon's hands wasn't something I enjoyed, especially after the escape from captivity.

  Before I could think it through and stop myself, I turned on my heel and nailed him with a glare that forced his shoulders to drop in defeat. I was sure he'd known this was coming but had wanted to avoid it. I tried my best to reign in the feelings of betrayal and resentment. This was Damon. I knew he didn't relish or enjoy what he'd just done, and yet, he'd been the one to suggest it, and it was that part of the whole thing that left me feeling so… cold.

  “Why you, Damon? Why did you volunteer?”

  He emitted a deep, long sigh and moved toward me, his hands reaching to take mine, and I let him. He tugged me gently to the bed, where he sat and pulled me closer. I was angry, yes, but it didn't mean I'd put my love for him on hold.

  “Honest answer... Because you can forgive me.”

  “What?” I asked, stunned. It hadn’t been the answer I’d expected and nowhere near what I’d imagined it could be. Damon gave me a softer look and trailed a finger along my skin with an unusual timidness I'd never seen from him before.

  “Gori is your friend and you know I'm fine with that. I’m a selfish man when it comes to you, but that selfishness doesn’t make me stupid. I know better than anyone how he would lay his life down for yours should it come down to that. So I knew I had to take this punch for him and everyone. If anyone else had done what I did tonight, you would have changed how you saw them. It's not a conscious thing, but you would have always seen that moment in your mind’s eye. For the guard, that’s not good because it means you wouldn’t trust them. Me, well you've forgiven me for it once, and this being out of necessity, I believed it would be easier for you to forgive me than anyone else, and it would take nothing from our relationship once you cooled down again.”

  Damn his logic. He had me and he knew it.

  I hadn't put these pieces together, but that's exactly what Grigori and Damon had done. It was the reason Gori had hesitated, and the reason Damon had stepped forward. Whether I liked it or not, he was right. He knew me well enough to see how I would react and he'd taken action and sacrificed himself, even if it was temporary. It was the only feasible option for them both, and the only outcome either of them could have lived with.

  “I hate being so predictable.”

  Damon's hands moved to my hips and held me in place as he looked up at me. His fingers squeezed the flesh there, sending sparks through my body as his chin rested against my stomach. It was in that moment I knew he was right. I would forgive him for almost anything.

  It was a scary thought, but at the same time it made my love for him flourish in my chest and split off to each of my limbs until I felt warm all over. I knew who Damon was. I knew he would never take joy or delight in hurting others, least of all me. He was considerate and thoughtful and made so many concessions for me, and my constant mistakes, that I sometimes didn't feel as though I deserved him.

  “You're not predictable, Vita Mea. There are very few people who know how you will react to any given situation.”

  “So there's you. That's a small club to be a member of.” I grinned, cupping his face in my hands and bending at the waist to brush my lips across his.

  “I'm not alone. As much as I hate to admit it, Grigori knows you well because he can read you, and because you've let him in. It's why he's so good at protecting you.”

  I was a little shocked at his insight, and I wasn't sure how this revelation made him feel. His face was guarded as he'd said the words. I knew him well enough to guess what he was so obviously trying to hide. It irked him that he wasn't the only one with the extensive knowledge of the woman he loved. He would rather have had the exclusivity, but at the same time, he appreciated just how closely Grigori was able to read me and my action because it kept me safe. Just being aware of all of this, I felt the need to once again reassure him of my devotion to him alone. I needed him to know how I felt.

  “Damon,” I whispered, my hands running against the grain of his unshaven face until my fingers pushed into his hair at the temples. “You know that you have nothing to worry about. It's you I'm in love with. It's you that I want… that I’ve always wanted. Gori is my friend, and the only love I have for him is completely platonic.”

  We sat there staring at one another for the longest time, my fingers stroking the silky hair at his temples as I held his gaze. I tried to open myself up, to pull open the curtains and let him see the truth of my words shining from me. I meant every word I said. He was the only man I would ever love with this much heat and passion. He was the only man I could imagine spending my life with. I needed him to see that.

  After a while, he gave me a slow, heated grin as his hands moved down to my thighs, the tips of his fingers brushing the curve of my ass. I didn't think he was conscious of his hands’ actions, but for me, my whole body seemed attuned to the heat and lingering presence of his palms and fingers over the dress I was wearing. I fought to keep my eyes open even as the hunger clawed from the deepest depths of me. The closer the two of us became, the more I seemed to need these touches and this time alone with him. I always felt breathless and tingly when we were like this. I, more than anyone, knew that my chastity had to be contained until my wedding night, but it was harder than I ever could have imagined to stick to the promise I’d made. My father—who had delicately asked my mother to bring this to my attention—was lucky that I hadn't been a regular teenager in the other dimension. My situation wasn't common in women my age.


  I had no doubt in my mind that if I wasn't the crowned Princess of Mortisali and had actually been just a regular person in my own world, or even this one, I would never have held out as long as I had with Damon. I liked to pretend that my virtue had been easy to hold onto, but in truth, from the moment Damon had kissed me before my accession, all I had thought about was giving myself to him in every way I could. Although, it hadn’t escaped my notice that we were alone, in my room, with no guard at the door.

  Before he had a chance to protest, I slipped myself into his lap, my legs dangling to one side as my arms linked around his neck. If he was surprised at my action, he didn't show it. He simply pulled me closer and pressed his lips against mine with a slow burning hunger that ignited in my soul. It started slowly, a quiet fire kindling under my skin as our mouths moved together, but as the intensity of the kiss grew, so did the paths of our hands. When I finally broke away, my breaths coming in small pants of excitement, I found myself lying on the bed with Damon hovering over me. I had no knowledge of us moving but it was obvious we'd shifted in our entanglement.

  Damon’s lips may not have been on mine anymore, but they were still on my skin, traveling down the column of my neck in reverent kisses and nibbles. He followed the scooping neckline of the gown I wore toward my exposed cleavage. There were daggers concealed in my skirts that I'd long since forgotten, but I could feel them pressing against my body leaving their scabbards my only protection against their razor sharp edges as his body pressed against mine.

  He eventually brought his mouth back to mine and bit down gently on my bottom lip as his hand grazed my breast. My breath stuttered around his lips, and one of my hands came to rest against his chest. I could feel his heart hammering against my palm in his excitement and it matched mine. I was losing myself in him all over again, and I knew that if I let myself go, there was a chance that I couldn't stop this. Regardless of whether or not I wanted to… and I didn’t.