Marked for Darkness

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Marked for Darkness Page 21

by Raven Woodward


  “Sorry,” he said as he turned his hips and dumped her back onto the bench seat. “I don’t wet my dick with a pussy that’s been used by my brother.”

  Onoliza tilted her head back and crowed a deep laugh to the burgundy carpeted ceiling. She nudged him with her shoulder, letting Arian’s rejection roll right off, as if she hadn’t even noticed. “I’d let you have any part of me, Dominicus. There’s plenty to share.” She winked.

  Arian grimaced.

  Then she sighed, suddenly bone-weary with their exchange. She pulled up the straps of her dress back onto her shoulders. “How many more centuries must you make me wait, princeling?” Her fingers stroked up and down his thigh languidly, her eyes glistening with moisture. But it couldn’t be tears. In order to cry, the witch would have to have a heart. And she most certainly did not.

  With another dramatic breath she waved a hand dismissively. “My powers might not work on you, but soon you will come to realize that an eternity is lonely when spent with mortals who perish if you fuck them too hard.” Straightening the gauzy, sheer golden gown around her ankles, she said, “I will not break. I will not tire. And one day, you will beg to serve me.”

  He forced a tight smile. “With all due respect, Highness, there are some distances between people that are too far and too treacherous to cross.”

  She simpered, “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

  “Just simply visiting. I find it helps me re-center my focus.”

  Her eyes flared brightly. Dangerously. She lengthened her spine and canted her head to one side, suspicion etched across her skeletal face. He flinched when she leaned toward him again, the seat creaking beneath her. She pressed a cool kiss to the same cheek she’d licked—a tender gesture. Another manipulation.

  She winked. “I’ll wait for you, princeling. You’re worth it.”

  Leaning further away, Arian stiffened, unsure of what the mad empress was up to, when the door handle clicked and the door swung open.

  They were at the edge of the city, just over the border. Before the offer could be rescinded, Arian climbed out, landing in tall grass filled with delicate yellow blooms.

  “Oh, and Dominicus,” Onoliza called. “Take the mortal girl back to her planet and leave her to her inevitable death.”

  Arian’s veins froze solid. Turning, he bent at the waist with a stiff bow. Then the door swung shut and the carriage rose from the ground and flew back into the city.

  He broke into a sprint, a trickle of sweat slipping down his neck.

  She knows about Harlow.

  She knows about Harlow.

  She knows about Harlow.

  He ran harder, determined to return to his Marked.

  Harlow

  “He’s been gone a long time,” Harlow said as she sipped a cool, fruity tea from a beautiful stone mug.

  “Relax,” Olivia chided from the kitchen. “Males always say one thing, then do another. Hey, we should go watch a movie in the kick ass theater he has here. By far the best one. The screen wraps around you so it feels like you’re really there—”

  A dark blur passed by the window and Harlow jerked back a step. “What was—”

  Her words died in her throat as Arian slowed to a brisk walk up the cobble stone path. His face was dark with anger and his hands fisted at his sides. Olivia had rushed to her side at some point, spotting Arian as well before darting to the door. Harlow followed after her, stopping just as the door was thrown open, narrowly missing Olivia.

  Arian didn’t pause, sweeping by her and went straight for Harlow. He wrapped his arms around her in a bone-crushing hug. Sweltering heat radiated from every inch of him.

  She stood there, stunned, for several moments. His nose buried into her hair as he breathed her in deep. His taut muscles began to relax, but his grip on her remained unyielding.

  “Arian?” Olivia broke the silence.

  He released Harlow and cleared his throat. “The Empress knows we are here.” His eyes bored into Harlow’s as her heart stuttered. “Including you.”

  “What?” Olivia shrieked. “She saw you?”

  A muscle in his jaw feathered. “Oh, she more than saw me.” His words were grated and bitter.

  Harlow desperately wanted to ask what he meant, but Olivia began rushing to and fro, shoving their belongings back into their bags. “Okay, we can be out of here in ten minutes, but where are we going to go? Isn’t this going to screw up the timetable we have…?”

  Her words faded out as Arian took Harlow’s hand. His swallowed hers, the callouses on his palms soothing.

  “Your sister is here.”

  Harlow barely heard the words, her brain refusing to process them.

  “Here, where?” Her lungs tightened. She looked around, foolishly, as though her sister had simply hidden behind one of the large sofas and would jump out yelling, “Surprise!”

  “She’s in Eqoraline, several hours from here. She’s safe; they all are. But she’s asking for you. I had intended to take you to see her tomorrow, but with the Empress’s attention there’s no way I can sneak you back into the city without leading her straight to your sister. And that’s the last thing we want right now.”

  Harlow’s face fell, but she recovered quickly, steeling her spine. “I want to see her. I need to see her.”

  Arian huffed. “I understand that, Ms. Marks, but unless you want to put them all at risk you will have to wait.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out.

  Olivia rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed sympathetically. “Give it time.” She shared a look with Arian before saying, “I’m going to grab the last of our stuff.”

  “Don’t pack,” Arian said. “We’ll leave tomorrow as planned, just a few hours earlier.”

  “Okay, well I’ll just go…knit. Or something.” She shot Harlow a wink before disappearing down the side hall.

  They stood in silence for a moment, Arian rubbing the back of his neck before turning to walk toward the wide, open window that wrapped around the better part of the main room.

  He leaned against the glass, arms folded over his chest. How he didn’t pass out under the overwhelming heat of the suns in that suit, she’d never know.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, finally filling the silence.

  “For what?” Harlow asked.

  “For everything. For getting you in this mess. For endangering your family.” He shifted, keeping his back to the glass as his dark gaze met hers.

  She nodded, though she wasn’t quite sure what that meant. A part of her warmed to him further—she suspected Arian wasn’t the type of man who apologized often.

  Standing on her tip toes, she brought her lips to his—a soft kiss. His hand cupped her cheek with equal gentleness. It felt almost reverent. Harlow’s chest expanded, allowing her to draw a deep, cleansing breath as her tongue brushed the seam of his lips in silent request.

  He opened for her, deepening the kiss. Pulling her to his chest. Clutching her possessively as he groaned.

  “What have you done to me, Ms. Marks?” he breathed.

  Harlow smiled as she renewed their embrace, clenching his lapels and pulling him closer.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Their passion was heady whether they kissed like it was a battle or if it was like this: a silent exchange of apologies and forgiveness.

  As Harlow felt the walls around her heart beginning to crumble, the room left her in a rush.

  She stood in a large, quaint room. Stone walls and an elegant candlelit chandelier illuminated the space. A plump woman with graying hair loosely knotted on the top of her head knelt in the corner of the room. Dark smudges on her face hid most of the fine lines on her forehead and around the side of her mouth, which was pursed into a tight frown. Sweat beaded her frazzled hairline. Inside an oddly crafted fireplace that looked to be a mixture of cement and clay instead of brick, a fire spat occasion
al embers near where her beautiful, pale seafoam green dress pooled around her.

  The woman didn’t seem to concerned, however, as she carefully lifted a black pot from above the fire and set it before her. She removed the lid, releasing a rush of curling steam toward the ceiling. Grabbing a handful of roughly chopped, vibrant purple root vegetables that Harlow recognized, the woman tossed them into the bubbling liquid.

  There was worry etched in her face, a tiredness that rounded her shoulders. But her eyes were as deep green as the shrubbery in the forest—Arian’s eyes. Was she related to him?

  The pots and bowls handcrafted in their simplicity, but beautiful all the same. Vines grew through cracks in the walls, wrapping up and stretching across the ceiling, tiny pink flowers dangling from their limbs. Everything had a vibrant, otherworldly quality.

  Wherever she’d been transported, she could only guess that it was Arian’s home planet. When, was the part that Harlow had trouble wrapping her mind around. Everything about the place suggested the eleventh or twelfth century. If her suspicions were right, it meant this was a part of Arian’s early history. Possibly before he became immortal.

  A young man thrust the door of crude metal open with a bang. The woman and Harlow both jumped.

  Then her heart stopped.

  There in the doorway, looking young and as impossibly gorgeous as he did when she’d just seen him, was Arian. Cloaked in a heavy fur coat, his jaw decorated with at least a month’s worth of dark facial hair. His green eyes glittered with mischief. Harlow’s best guess was he was only a few years away from being forever frozen in his current state.

  The woman on the floor smiled and leapt to her feet to embrace him. He began speaking to her in a language Harlow had never heard before. The woman responded, chittering so quickly in the same strange language she’d heard Prodepheus speak before.

  Arian laughed just as another roguishly handsome man clapped him on the back, stepping into the tiny space. Her stomach dropped as she recognized him too. He looked similar to Arian, though there were many notable differences; where Arian’s jaw was wider, more squared, this man was all sharp angles. His shoulders were not quite as broad. And in his eyes—which were not green, but grey—was a cleverness like that of a fox.

  It was the cruel type of cunning that made Harlow shiver. The same man had sat beside her on a throne in her last vision.

  He, too, spoke to the woman a beautiful foreign language. She cupped his cheek fondly, giving it a pat. Several more bulky men pushed their way into the hut, all embracing the woman, whom Harlow guessed was their mother.

  Last into the hut was a severe-looking man. Blood was splashed across his front, matting his furs. He held out two headless animals that appeared to be large birds—not any type of bird that Harlow had ever seen. They were roughly the size of turkeys, with feathers that shimmered a deep blue in the light of the fire. The woman’s smile faltered at the man’s cold stare, and something in Harlow ached.

  The men had all gone silent, an uncomfortable hush that fell on the room like a thick fog. Two of the brother’s smirked, one of them being the fox-eyed man, as if awaiting an inevitable exchange. Arian stiffened—that familiar muscle twitching in his jaw—and his fists clenched, braced for what was to come.

  But whatever they waited for, Harlow did not see. As soon as the woman took the birds—a sadness in her eyes Harlow could only try to understand—she was jolted back into herself.

  She gasped.

  Arian stared down at her, eyes wide. “What happened? What did you see?”

  She panted for breath, her lungs too tight. She pressed a hand to her chest as though she could tug on the imaginary cord that squeezed them, making it hard to breathe. “I-I think I saw your mother.”

  Arian’s brows slashed downward. “What else?”

  She took several more breaths, her heart beating like a drum. “It-it was your house, I think. There were vines growing up the walls, and there was a fireplace, and everything looked old, like, I don’t know, maybe the twelfth century.”

  Arian’s eyes went vacant. “Tell me more.”

  She tried to recreate the scene that had unfolded in her mind, adding as much detail as she could recall.

  When she was done, Arian’s head fell back against the glass as he blew out a harsh breath.

  “What?” she asked.

  He didn’t look at her when he answered, “You saw one of my memories. Or rather, one of my mother’s memories, seeing as you said it seemed to focus around her.”

  “What…” She swallowed hard. “What happened…after?”

  Arian’s jaw clenched. “I think you know.”

  Her lips parted on a breath. “He hit her?” She paused, worrying her bottom lip. “Did he…did he hurt you too?”

  He looked at her then. “Only until we were big enough to fight back. It was how we earned his respect.”

  Harlow’s stomach turned. “I’m sorry.”

  Arian nodded, “I didn’t like my father, but I loved my mother. We protected her from his wrath when we could. She was an incredibly strong, yet kind woman.”

  Harlow smiled sadly, staring out at the buttery yellow sky. They stood in companionable silence, each recalling their late parents with a mix of emotions.

  It felt good to have someone near, even if they didn’t touch. Didn’t speak.

  When Arian wasn’t looking, she stole glances at him. At his stoic expression which so meticulously hid his inner pain.

  And for the first time since she’d met him, she wished to know him better. To find every source of his pain and ease them all.

  Whatever was going on between them, she wished she didn’t have to deny it or hide it.

  She wondered if perhaps their circumstances were a little different, she wouldn’t mind being his.

  “Isn’t it dangerous to have so much of the house made of glass?” she asked after a while.

  Arian’s dark chuckle reverberated through her. “It’s not glass. It’s a transparent material that your planet doesn’t have. It allows us to see out, but no one on the outside can see in. And not even my beast could break it.” He leaned toward her, brushing her hair back to tuck it behind her ear. “Should I show you around?”

  Harlow nodded eagerly. Olivia had shown her the room they would share, which was the first one down the hall.

  Arian smiled then spun on his heel and led her down the hall. He showed her room after, spacious room, including the theater Olivia had mentioned, as well as another room filled with nothing but VHS tapes and DVDs of every single movie ever made. It reminded Harlow of his basement back in New York, but this was a vast collection beyond anything she could have comprehended. She wanted to peruse his collection, but it would have taken an entire day to see them all.

  The library was next: an elaborate, circular room, its walls lined with shelves that were packed floor to ceiling with books. She spun in the center of the room, neck craned so as to ogle them all.

  She paused, noting the symbols inked onto the spines. “They’re not in English.”

  Arian laughed. “Of course not. They’re written in my language.”

  Harlow turned to face him, biting down on her bottom lip. “Will you ever tell me what it’s called? What this place is called? I already tried to get Olivia to spill the beans, but she wouldn’t either.”

  He sighed. “You can call it Growth and Harmony if you want. That’s the English translation of it.” With a scoff he brushed one of the spines delicately. “Though it hasn’t had either in far too long.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, then shrugged when he sent her a quizzical look. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

  Next, they entered a grand room with a silver-and-gold marbled floor. At one end stood the most beautiful piano Harlow had ever seen. Arian strode toward it with purpose. She held her breath when he sat before it. Silence surrounded them. His fingers moved, sliding over the keys with reverence, but they
didn’t make a sound.

  Until he began to play. Harlow’s jaw dropped as Arian coaxed from the ivory keys the most haunting and beautiful melody her ears had ever heard. Everything about his world was painfully beautiful. His voice, the crashing waves. The music he played for her felt as if every single note was carved into her heart. The song wrapped around her. Wound through her. Each breath she drew clung to the hope for more.

  When he caressed the last few keys with painful slowness, his eyes met hers. Her face was wet with tears, his eyes so green she thought she’d fall into them and be lost forever. But she didn’t care. It was nearly unfathomable: a big, intimidating man that had killed, and committed crimes that none but he knew of, losing himself in music that he created. If an instrument could weep for the beauty it wrought, she felt certain this one would.

  This man was capable of cruelty. Yet his soul was absolutely beautiful. He was immortal and held more knowledge and memories than anyone should ever have to bear. Whatever spell he had cast on her, Harlow gave herself over to it.

  The last haunting note echoed through the room. She sucked in a shaky breath, wondering if her overflowing heart shone on her face. The flash of gold in Arian’s irises told her it must have.

  “Where did you learn to play like that?” she asked, voice raw.

  A sad smile tugged at his lips. “I taught myself. I learned every instrument I could get my hands on…but this…” His fingers plucked a few more solemn notes that danced around them.

  “But to play like that…” A chill snaked up her spine.

  Harlow understood every moment of joy and loneliness he’d ever experienced through just one song. If she had lived for thousands of years, she too would want to learn every instrument. Read every book. Watch every movie ever made. If not for enjoyment, then to fill the emptiness with a distraction.

 

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