Arian couldn’t control the shift.
In a flash his beast had the man’s head in his jaw. He bit down, severing through bone and sinew, tasting the hot, bitter tang of blood.
He knew the madman’s truth as surely as he felt the pull of his Marked.
Why didn’t I kill that bastard when I had the chance? Shifting back to man, his voice guttural and coarse as rocks, he shouted, “Elentis! Find Rex Almstad. I want him dead!”
His brother’s cool gaze wavered. “You’re not thinking clearly, Brother.”
“My mind is clearer than it’s ever been,” he snarled, storming back toward the house. “I want to know everything about him. If he indeed is a Morovitz, kill him.”
Arian leaned in the doorway, listening to the rhythmic breathing coming from inside the room. It soothed his frayed nerves. If not for the invisible barrier that prevented him from entering, he might not be able to stop himself from going to her. As it was, he contemplated waking her.
Inside his pocket, his phone chimed. With a sigh, he pulled it out, pausing at the words he glimpsed beneath Elentis’s name.
He opened his texts and read it again.
Rex Almstad is missing. We’ve found something strange. Will have to wait for dawn to confirm, but best guess is he’s a repressed elementalist.
Arian’s fist tightened around his phone until it groaned then crumpled like a tin can.
He turned, feeling his body begin to expand again.
Will the extent of my curse never end? he thought.
If this was for sure, he couldn’t let Harlow know. A potential bond brought to light would have her trying to save Rex from whatever Oricus had planned.
The fact that his brother had sent Jackos instead of Rex’s head was proof he didn’t intend to kill the Morovitz.
At least, not yet.
Part Three
The Curse
Rex
Pain.
It came in waves that pummeled him like rocks against the sea floor. Each breath burned. Until at last it eased. The searing agony in his skull became a dull ache.
His lungs filled with blessed air without the sharp sting he’d grown accustomed to.
“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” a voice floated overhead. Undoubtedly male. So cold it made Rex shiver.
Rex pried a single eye open. Light poured in from a slat across from him, revealing concrete walls. His hands fisted the threadbare blanket beneath him. The cot was hard and lumpy.
He opened his other eye, feeling the ache behind them intensify as they adjusted to the lighting.
“My apologies for the method used to procure you, Mr. Almstad,” the smooth, icy voice said from his left.
Rex swiveled his head, trying to ignore the wave of nausea that followed. In the corner, drenched in shadows, was a man with silver eyes.
An odd smile played on the man’s lips. Cold. Detached. The kind that told Rex when this man smiled, it was usually a very bad thing.
Rex forced himself to move, to try to sit up, but his head gave another throb that made his vision blur.
“Ah, yes, go slow. You sustained a concussion and a few broken ribs in transit.”
Flashes of memory returned, including rushing out of his mother’s house and into the forest behind it to release the pressure like he usually did once a week. Until a bag had been thrown over his head and someone kicked him in the ribs.
“In transit?” Rex rumbled.
The man’s smile grew. “My name is Oricus Dell.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your name is,” Rex said. “I want to know why I’m here.”
The man stepped forward, letting the light wash over him. “You are here, Mr. Almstad, because I know what you are. I know what has been taken from you, and I want to help you get it back.”
Rex’s brows furrowed. He touched a hand to his temple, feeling for a bump or a bruise. Anything that would explain the pain. He’d already released himself in the forest less than a day ago…
Unless…
“How long have I been here?”
“About a week I’m afraid.”
Rex groaned. “That explains it.”
“Do you know what you are, Mr. Almstad?” Oricus asked with a knowing smile.
“A freak?”
The man chuckled as he brushed his thumb along his chin thoughtfully. “Not at all. You are a rare breed of human called a Morovitz.”
“A Morovitz?” Rex asked, brow raised. He looked up to stare at the concrete ceiling. “I think I preferred freak.”
Oricus sucked in a breath as though trying to reign in his patience. Rex didn’t care.
“I want to speak to you about Harlow Marks. Formally known as Harrietta Marks.” Rex’s attention snapped to the man. “Ah, yes, I had hoped you’d remember who that is. No doubt my brother tried tampering with your memory.” He paused. “But you shattered that silly little spell, didn’t you? All on your own.”
Rex scrubbed a hand down his face. “I mean, I guess. All I remember is bits and pieces, but I remember Harlow. I…I dream of her…sometimes.”
Oricus nodded. “Yes, there’s a reason for that. You see, Arian Kalvar is the bastard that has Harlow. He’s the one that tried to make you forget her. But you can’t forget her, because she too is a Morovitz. Usually only one Morovitz is born at a time and often only once every few centuries.” He slowly walked around the cot, moving about the small space as shadows passed over him. Clung to him. “When two Morovitz exist at the same time, it is always a bonded pair. It is why she was drawn to you the moment she stepped into the city. It is why you dream of her, why you can’t successfully forget her, even with the help of a little mind manipulation. She is yours and you are hers.”
His words made Rex’s mind reel. He felt the truth of them in his bones, yet, it felt too medieval, too weird to imagine he’d formed some magical bond to a woman he barely knew. But his jealousy, his anger…it all made sense.
“Is she hurt?”
“Not quite,” Oricus said. His pause ratcheted up Rex’s heart rate. Finally, he continued. “My kind also forms a bond with one person. We call the bond a Soul Mark. It would seem my brother’s Marked is also Miss Marks.”
An ugly emotion reared up inside Rex at those words. “How is that possible?”
His captor raised a shoulder in nonchalance, but every moment that the information sunk in, the hotter his anger burned.
“How do any humans possess magic to begin with? It is just the nature of the universe I suppose. However, Harlow has a choice. She has to be the one to complete the bond with whomever she chooses.”
“It’ll be me,” Rex answered, jumping to his feet. “She’ll choose me, I’m certain of it. She was terrified of that guy.”
Oricus’s eyes narrowed in warning. “Let’s just say my brother can be very persuasive. And at any rate, you’ll never be allowed near her as long as she remains under his protection.”
Rex’s fists clenched as his sides. “I’ll get her out somehow.”
Oricus’s face split in a cruel slash of white. “Actually, I want to help you cultivate that magic you so wastefully dump whenever the pressure gets to be too much.”
Rex’s jaw tightened. “To what end?”
“Oh, a mutually beneficial agreement to be sure. You help me, and I’ll help you. Starting with more comfortable accommodation.” When Rex started forward, Oricus placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “If you can prove your loyalty. You understand, don’t you?”
Rex’s teeth ground together.
He had to play this smart. Whoever this Oricus was, he was clearly dangerous. Rex’s priority was Harlow. Her safety.
Her kiss.
The feel of her intoxicating curves.
He mentally shook himself. It was true, that bond. He could feel it. As though an awareness made the thread visible for the first time. He wanted to wrap it around his fist and pull Harlow to
safety. To him.
To Oricus, he nodded.
Mutually beneficial, he’d said. Fine. Rex would do as he asked, and in return, he’d have Harlow returned to him.
His mate.
Harlow
“It’s a pity that vampires don’t actually exist,” Olivia said as she grabbed another handful of popcorn from the bowl in Harlow’s lap.
It had become their nightly routine no matter where they were. Not even Harlow was sure where they were any more. She hadn’t seen Arian in a week. Every day or two, they went to a new location, and only Olivia had been a constant. She was kind and funny, and morbidly fascinated with vampires.
Prodepheus scoffed from Olivia’s other side. “You just like them because they sparkle. Fuh’jor help the poor sod that falls in love with you because they will be broke. Besides, we’re as close to vampires as this world is ever going to get.”
Olivia tossed her entire handful of popcorn at Prody, scattering it all over the worn, stained couch the three of them squeezed onto. Prodepheus chuckled as she shushed him in time for the tanned werewolf—Jacob—to enter the scene.
“I’d have thought you guys were more like werewolves. You turn into animals and are cursed according to the moon.”
Olivia and Prodepheus exchanged a look that Harlow couldn’t quite make out. “What?”
Prody stroked the tuft of dark hair on his chin as he glanced past Olivia to Harlow. “Nah, you’re probably right.”
Harlow looked to Olivia for guidance, but she watched the small flat screen on the opposite wall with rapt attention. Her lips mouthed the characters’ words as they spoke. She’d be useless for the rest of the film.
With a sigh, Harlow sat back and watched it, her attention slipping every so often, to the man she hadn’t seen since she found out she was the key to breaking his kind’s curse. She wondered where he was and when she’d see him again.
All she knew was that they were trying to draw Oricus out. No one would tell her why or what they planned to do when he did come out of hiding. All she’d been told was that she was bait, but that no harm would come to her.
When the movie ended, Olivia and Prody were deep in debate about whether or not Robert Pattinson was the best choice for Edward. Olivia’s golden, shimmering hair swayed side to side like in a shampoo ad as Prodepheus said something about actors being allowed to use their natural accents, but Harlow tuned them out.
Until he pulled out his phone, checking the time. His face went pale, his eyes wide.
“What’s wrong?” Olivia asked before Harlow could.
He ran a hand over his long, dark hair. “Shit, Kai says Arian’s on his way here. Liv, get Har—”
The door burst open just as Harlow’s heart leapt into a sprint. Olivia shrieked. She barely had time to register his black hair—mussed—jaw darkened with about a week’s worth of facial hair, and eyes bright, the golden flecks swallowing most of the green.
Arian’s pupils were blown wide the second his gaze landed on Harlow. She got to her feet, unable to deny the tug toward him. It was magnetic. For long moments, they stared at each other. Arian’s gaze swept over every inch of her body, assessing, while Harlow stood in stunned silence until someone cleared their throat.
She blinked, suddenly remembering the other two people in the room.
“Leave,” Arian commanded, not looking away from her. The gold pulsed and drowned out the last of his natural eye color.
“No, stay.” Harlow gripped Olivia’s arm, clutching her friend as if she could save Harlow from the intensity that filled the room.
As if she could save Harlow from him.
His eyes narrowed imperceptibly on where she grasped Olivia. She lifted her chin, refusing to cower, even as Olivia swallowed audibly.
Olivia took a step forward after gently extricating herself from Harlow. “I think it’s best that I stay, Arian, but I’ll give you two some privacy.”
She tugged on Prody’s arm, but he didn’t budge. At last she gave up with a sigh and glided into the adjoining room. Prodepheus stood in a ready stance staring his brother down. Waiting.
“You’re dismissed, Brother,” Arian said in an unnaturally quiet voice.
Harlow’s heart beat so hard she wondered if they could hear it.
It was almost strange to see the easygoing immortal who laughed and teased like any normal person so easily transform into a soldier. A protector. Only, it was Arian he was protecting her from. But why? “You’re not thinking clearly. You can see that she’s safe, unharmed.” Prody gestured to Harlow without looking at her. Arian’s gaze flicked back to Harlow, pinning her there. His expression seemed almost…hungry.
Brows knitted together, Harlow said, “What’s going on?” She might as well have been invisible for all the answer she got.
Prodepheus took a step toward his brother—a cautious step that one might take toward a feral animal. “Remember the plan, Arian. This will all be for naught if Oricus’s men find you here.”
Arian’s voice was rough when he said, “She comes with me.”
But Prodepheus didn’t back down. He huffed, a mix of frustration and incredulity. He took another step closer. A string of sounds, both musical and guttural—which she assumed was their natural language—spilled from his lips before he switched back to English. “I know what you’re feeling Brother. I’ve been in your position, and right now you have one thing on your mind. But it won’t help. Look at her, Arian.”
Automatically his attention snapped back to Harlow. Though his nostrils flared, the gold in his eyes had begun to recede.
“This isn’t what you want,” Prodepheus said.
Harlow’s cheeks heated. She was pretty sure she knew what Prody was referring to, and to have it so obviously tossed around the room was borderline humiliating. “I’m right here, ya know,” she snapped. “I’m fine.”
Something crossed Arian’s face, a flicker of emotion there and gone too quick to analyze. Then he straightened his bloodred tie, which was askew. His suit—which Harlow had always seen in pristine condition—had dried mud caked on the cuffs and splashed along his front and pants.
The deep emerald green had returned to his irises, and with it, some semblance of sense. Arian cleared his throat. “Thank you for that, Prodepheus,” he said coolly, “but I must insist that Harlow accompanies me for this leg. My giving chase has done little to draw Oricus out from wherever it is he’s holed up. They need a glimpse of her. In order for that to happen, I need to be there to protect her.”
“Then I’ll come with—” Prody started, but was immediately cut off.
“Olivia can sufficiently keep me from completing the Mark, Brother.”
Harlow didn’t need to be standing in front of Prodepheus to notice the cold shift in him. Anger roiled from him in palpable waves. For a second, her gaze darted back and forth between the brothers. From the clenched fists and tight jaws, she half expected them to lunge toward each other in a flurry of snarls.
“That won’t be necessary,” Arian said at last.
With a simple jerk of his head, Prodepheus stalked past his brother and out the door, slamming it closed behind him. It bounced back open, the shattered lock drawing Harlow’s gaze momentarily.
She released a gusty breath the moment Arian started toward her, prowling like a lion fixed on its prey.
She staggered back a step. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t move.” His voice was dark velvet.
A flame sparked low in her belly at the sound. Heat spread through her like warm honey. The pure lust and desire in his gaze was disarming.
Then he was before her, cupping the nape of her neck as he forced her lips up to meet his. Crashing, ravenous bliss. Her knees buckled and he crushed her against him to stop her from falling. He groaned, low and rumbling, as he clutched her to him like she was a raft in the middle of the tumultuous ocean. Harlow’s head spun as her hands roved over his taut body.<
br />
As their tongues tasted and battled, Arian slid one hand to her ass while the other cupped her breast, kneading it. Harlow’s breath hitched. Her hands worked off his jacket, forcing him to release her for a moment. He growled before they clashed back together, their kiss hungry, hot, and desperate.
Desperate to get closer.
Desperate to say what they wanted to say without words.
I missed you. I want you. I need you.
He tugged the strap of Harlow’s dress off her shoulder, then pushed it and her plain black bra down. When her breast sprung free Arian captured her stiff nipple in his mouth. Harlow cried out as pleasure rocked through her.
“You are pure torture, Ms. Marks,” Arian rasped before flicking his tongue over the firm bud again.
“I’m not sure whether or not that’s a compliment, Kalvar,” she quipped breathlessly. When his hand slid under her dress, fingers applying just the right amount of pressure to her aching clit, her head fell back in surrender.
His lips curved in a smile against her peeked flesh as his fingers rubbed torturously slow circles at her apex. Her breathing grew more ragged—an orgasm already building. Legs trembling, her fingers dug into his shoulders while she fought to stay upright.
“This was all I could think about.” He lifted his head and nipped gently at her neck. The scrape of his canines made her body go rigid, yet something about the idea made her core go molten. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
Arian pulled aside the scrap of fabric and dipped a finger into her slick folds. Harlow moaned. He withdrew his finger and brought it to his lips, sucking her slick heat from it.
Fuck, that’s hot, she thought with a small smile.
Then he brought his finger back down, plunging it inside her. She bit back a groan of ecstasy as he pumped a finger in and out while his thumb rubbed her throbbing, swollen clit.
“God, yes,” she breathed, clinging to him.
Arian chuckled. “The thought of finally touching you, of pleasuring you, nearly brought me to my knees. So no, Ms. Marks, I’m not a god. I’m just a man worshipping a goddess.”
Marked for Darkness Page 18