Rogue Within

by Mima

  Reluctantly, she backed away, barely, to face her Queen. They were in the small day hall, in the Royal private quarters, which explained the lack of guards. There was the usual crowd of familiar faces around the Queen, except for one. He dressed in a black leather skirt and knee-high boots, with a fitted gray cloth tunic belted with a black braid of leather strips. He was so darkly brown she placed him from Seventh City, but when she considered his face, she changed that assessment. This must be the man Donte had expected. Dom. A trux of some import.

  Moriko sank into a Royal curtsy, deep enough to feel the pinch in her knees. She’d noticed this new ache after her thirty-third birthday last year. Donte seemed to give some sort of weak bow beside her. Moriko remained in the curtsy while Shebu finished screaming.

  “That will be quite enough, Shebu,” the Queen said calmly once the woman seemed to have hyperventilated. “Rise, Chatelaine.”

  Moriko gratefully rose, keeping her hands folded before her and her gaze down. To her surprise, the Queen stood from her settee and came toward them across the colorful, woven straw flooring. Moriko recognized the pattern as one of Tondi’s. It was stunning with the white furniture.

  “I hear you have killed.”

  Abruptly, the pastiche of vibrant colors washed away with the memory of oozing garnet.

  “And I’ll kill again. I’ll kill every single one I find.”

  Shebu whimpered and cousin Royu snapped his fingers. She choked it back, but fled the room. Chancing a glance at the Queen, Moriko saw her face was serene, thoughtful.

  She shot a look at the dark-skinned Dom, with his short black hair and glinting, obsidian eyes. He sensed her gaze and met it, so she quickly looked away.

  “Yet I see my niece before me, burned, the subject of a dishonorable, outlawed attack and her assailant still lives.”

  Donte said nothing.

  The Queen breathed deeply. “Wisely played, Bear. By showing restraint against a man who had harmed Moriko, you have saved yourself.”

  Squeezing her eyes shut meant the precious words could be repeated in the cradle of her heart. She bit her lip.

  The Queen turned and drifted to the high tea table at the side of the room. Today she wore soft pinks, and her hair had been elaborately curled. “Dom believes you are dangerous to us. He says you were their pet and are still subject to those ties. He says you wear your Bear too often and too easily. He says you are too damaged to walk our streets, let alone sleep in a princess’s bed.”

  The Queen poured herself a cup of tea, the scent of wintergreen sharp in the room over the tinkle of the liquid. “I think Dom says far too much.”

  No one moved. Moriko watched the Queen under her lashes. She was up to something…

  The woman rotated with perfect posture and returned to her settee, holding her cup before her. “Growl for me.”

  To her surprise, Donte growled immediately. It wasn’t like a human tone of agitation. It was a bass rumble, very menacing.

  The Queen sat poised. “Kneel.”

  Breath catching, Moriko couldn’t believe it when Donte went to his knees with a thud.

  “Tell me you will cleanse my City.”

  “I will go through every room of every house if you so choose.”

  The Queen took a deep breath and Moriko held it with her. Exhaling, she looked away at an ancient mosaic on the wall, colors dulled by time. When she spoke, her voice was throatier, softer. “My people argue we have no way of knowing if the man you killed was a darkmage. They say the people will rise up without the rule of law. They tell me I will destroy the love I have so carefully crafted and that simply replacing the darkmages’ fear with my own is not honorable.”

  She sipped her tea, set it on the carved ivory table before her. She stood again and approached Donte. Every muscle in Moriko’s body went to stone. But she didn’t touch him.

  “Tell me, poor scarred brute. What are we to do with you?”

  “Give me sanctuary. Make me your champion. Honor my mate.”

  It would have been better if he’d formulated those demands into court speak. But the Queen seemed surprisingly receptive to his blunt speech.

  “I like this word the Chatelaine used—darkhunter. Shall I use you?”

  “Yes.” He held her gaze, again breaking etiquette.

  Her lips curled, pleased, cold. “Tonight, we will have a test, I think. I want my home back.” She gestured. “Are the people in this room of the Sacred Couple?”

  Donte didn’t move. “No one here is a darkmage.”

  The Queen went back to her tea. “Here is what we shall do…”

  Chapter Fourteen

  On the balcony of the Princess Moriko’s personal room, Dom stood next to Donte in the bright sunlight, staring at the truly magnificent view of the ocean.

  With typical oddness, Donte scanned the swath of sandy cove and muttered with disgust. “Fuck.”

  Ignoring his faint interest in how this man’s mind worked, Dom asked the essential information. “How did you know?”

  “The darkspell I hold echoes whenever I’m near one. It did in the fortress and I’d hoped it would here. I follow the pull and it’s like a path right to anyone who’s used darkcraft, if they’re close enough.”

  “So you say.”

  Donte shrugged. “So I say.”

  “You don’t smell like a lie.”

  “Nope.”

  Dom pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back the pounding headache. He hadn’t slept in days, but that wasn’t terribly unusual. Donte was the special component to the beating in his skull. “How do you know about the Bone Shield?”

  “I read about it while training with the council spiritmages.” He shifted.

  By Sand, the man was huge.

  “I caught this look on your face when I brought it up. I didn’t understand it when I read it but I didn’t know about you then. It’s you isn’t it? Since I’ve come back from them, I can smell you.”

  Ah, had he been so unguarded? Donte’s arrogant, twisted puss issuing the demand should have been as outrageously laughable to him as it had been to the gathered leaders. If not for Rowan’s amazing prophecy. Stand behind the bones of your mothers. If something did not change very soon, the clans would be forced to send women into the fortress against the darkmages.

  It was Dom’s role to keep the clans sane. So Rowan’s phrase evoking women warriors and Donte’s use of Dom’s rarely used title had sent shivers of premonition through him.

  Recalling her bland words that Donte had brought her food in captivity was the final tipping point. “What did you read about the Bone Shield?”

  “In times of great sorrow, the Alphas can summon a great Shield. Not just a brother protector for their own clan, but for all. The Shield can access all of their beastspirits, and reach ancient powers.”

  Dom’s blood chilled and his cats leaped. “I want to know where you read that.”

  “I can tell you.” He turned to face Dom. “So is it true? Is that what you are?”

  “I cannot answer that.”

  “How do they not know? The ceremony to create a Shield is so … physical.”

  Dom snorted. “What makes you think they don’t?”

  “Why don’t you wield more power, then?”

  Like he needed any more responsibility. “Have the clans gone to war?”

  Donte was silent. He turned back toward the sea. “You’re not a defense against enemies, against creatures and darkmages. You steady the Alphas.” He smashed his fist down onto the carved marble. “Fuck. I was so sure I could call you out and force you to fight.”

  Wolf’s hackles rose and groundbear flattened, snarling. Standing completely still, Dom focused on the warm stone, the high, searing sun, the salt and shush of the waves. “Do you think. I have been cowering at River Mountain. Hiding. Letting othersss die before me?” Teeth clenched, Dom stared away from the shit, at the shred of jungle that edged the point in the distance.

  “Yeah. I
kinda did.”

  Bloodlust swelled. Lizzeed lashed his tail. “Walk away. Now.”

  “Fuck you.” But the man did give him some space, moving a pace away to sit on the railing. “What do you think of the Queen’s plan?”

  Dom didn’t answer for long moments. It was like trying to stuff a geyser back into its hole. There was no reason for Donte to so insult his honor, but the criticism stung despite its unfairness. Because it was the same seething fire that haunted him. If only he could harness these beasts and fight. Losing Dom would spell disaster for the clans. Oh, Dom would fight. He was too powerful not to, but only when the battlefield was clear. Right now, the fortress was forbidden to him and the Cities a desert of shadows.

  “If I ever prove you’ve killed an innocent, I’ll take your heart and dine on it with Wolf.”

  Donte grunted.

  “You truly went to your mate while she was under attack and managed not to destroy her abuser. I’m deeply impressed, confused, and outright shocked. I never would have guessed you had it in you, not for the Donte who declared himself Lone, and not for the man they made you.”

  “Shows what you know.”

  There was a sort of relaxed slur to the words that made Dom look at him sharply. The look on his messed up face was so strange. Dom turned and saw Moriko had entered the room again with a basket.

  She was of average height, a fit, mature woman with a slightly larger bottom and a modest chest. Her nose was too big and she had the Royal eyes, tilted and stretched tight. Her hair was plain brown, glossy and cut to frame her elegant face. There was nothing terribly remarkable about her, but for the confidence and pride that surrounded her like a cloak, drawing people to her steady energy. She smiled at Donte, glanced at him, then dumped the basket on the bed and began to sort the clothes.

  Dom couldn’t deny the way their mutual claim filled the air with a sensual musk. They were mated, through none of the normal rituals of their people. “And how did you do that?”

  “Who cares. She’s mine.”

  It was Dom’s turn to snort. “The council will care. Quor is beside himself.”

  “I found her, I wooed her, I took her into my magescape. Looks like Bear doesn’t care about anyone’s recognition. Maybe that’s what being rogue really means. Independence.”

  Shocked at the insightful idea, Dom studied the warrior. If he truly retained a sense of honor, even while letting his beastspirit ride him, he was a mighty weapon. “They’ll come for you.”

  “Yeah.”

  Looking back through the blowing curtains, Dom studied the humming woman. It was incredibly ruthless to use her to escape the council and access the City knowing she’d suffer darkmage attacks. “You really plan to survive this?” Their estimates placed the number of darkmages in this City alone in the hundreds. All of them scent-masked.

  “Not sure. Would have said doubtful. We’ll see how it goes tonight.”

  “The plan is daring. I’d say you had a good chance, but for my concern regarding how much their leader can still pull at your bear.”

  “I can take my boy Thad. It won’t be the same between us now.”

  The scent of rage and hate spilling off Donte raced across his skin, obliterating the Bond scent. It was sharp and complete, leaving room for nothing else. Dom met Donte’s gaze. He’d never seen a more formidable body, but it was the spirit he wasn’t sure of. Quor had been very clear just how unstable he was, for all the coherence he presented. But pulsing between the two of them was a common thirst greater than their distrust. To gut Thad, the leader of the four remaining master darkmages, Dom would dare much. And Donte had a direct line to the man. Trap? Or Opportunity?

  “Until tonight.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay near her at the Queen’s dance.”

  Rocking his head back, he considered this request. It could be layers of drawing Dom into a trap, but there was no mistaking an invitation to stand by a trux’s mate in battle was serious. Arrogance? Or reluctant ally? “You leave me with so many questions.”

  Donte shrugged and hopped down from the railing, which meant he extended his long legs and stood up. “I’m pretty simple, actually. You think too much.” Striding toward the humming woman, he tossed over his shoulder, “Leaving now would be good.”

  Seeing her turn, look up at the wrecked face, and beam, Dom agreed. He left via leaping from her balcony down onto the terrace two floors below. A few more leaps and he was down on the ground. He made his way to the marten’s post near the sifting stone.

  The cluster of warriors came to eager attention. “Is he dead?”

  Sighing, Dom’s headache boomed harder. Owl hissed. It was going to be a long day.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Is he gone?” She was breathless, aching, tight and damp.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve brought some clothes that might work. You’ll have a fitting later today, but they won’t be ready for a few days.”

  “Okay.”

  She dropped the shirt on the floor. “My neck will have a permanent crick from staring up at you all the time. Maybe I should invent some platform shoes.”

  “I can heal your neck and platform shoes don’t sound safe.” He scowled. “Your healers did good work. Your skin is totally smooth.”

  Licking her lips, she ignored her throbbing nipples. “Yours isn’t. Why didn’t you heal yourself?”

  “Couldn’t. None of the six crafts work at the fortress. Just darkcraft. Do that again.”

  She licked across her mouth slower, with just the tip of her tongue, polishing the center of her lower lip. It felt good, tingling. “We’re together now, alone, really here.” It wasn’t like her to hold herself back, but the barrier of life that had sat between them since his arrival still held her tight. Once she touched him, she’d be gone. It was going to be so good she was frightened of it.

  “You’ll do that on my cock.”

  His dark order trembled through her thighs. “I’d be honored to give you that pleasure.” But not now. Now she couldn’t play, couldn’t indulge. “I need you.”

  “Anything, Moriko.” His gaze was like the shadows of the forest at twilight. His fingers curled into fists by his thighs, then relaxed. “But be ready. Once I’m into your body, I’m not going to give you anything nice.”

  Images crowded her mind. Her leaping on him and riding him on the floor. Him taking her against the wall, over the foot rest, sitting on the balcony banister. Stumbling, she turned and swept the clothes from the bed. Blindly, she pulled her dress off, her slip, her underwear, her shoes.

  She lay down on the coverlet. “I need to know I’m yours.” Her toes curled as the warm breeze blew across her belly. Fingering one swollen nipple, she clenched her other hand in the covers to keep from reaching for him. “Take me, Donte-Bear. I’ve been so lonely. No one understood me. Please, please, fuck me.”

  “Watch my face.” Donte pushed the ridiculous pants from his hips.

  She pinched her nub, twisting it until the strike spread into her blood.

  “Remember how I told you some things don’t translate into the magescape?”

  She nodded. Her legs moved restlessly over the teal satin. Her clit called to her, but she kept her grip in the cool fabric.

  He knelt on the bed and it dipped hard, but it was a very firm mattress and the frame, a wooden antique, held true. Taking her wrist, he drew her hand from her breast and toward his hips. “Touch me.” His jaw clenched, gaze grim.

  She twisted her arm to leave his guidance and touched him. Stroking his hip, she smoothed down his thigh, down and around to his sac. He swallowed, eyes narrowing. Her breath came in outright pants now, but she moved her fingertips lightly across the rough skin there. It was tight and scalding hot. Finding the smoother skin at the base of his root, she combed her fingers all around, pushing his long hairs away. They were both coarse and soft at the same time.

  She tried to ring him with her thumb and fingers, but he was too
fat, so she just began to explore him with firm strokes. She felt the scars, but it was the pulsing veins that distracted her. Her lids lowered, gaze drifting from his flaring nostrils to his flushed cheekbones. The burn scar had turned a deep pink. Her tongue wet her lips again, and she bit into the lower one hard, knowing when it released the sting would lead to the same shade.

  Arching her back, she drew her touch up the strong, swollen muscle. He never moved. The higher she climbed, the wider she spread her thighs, loving the way her wet folds slowly peeled open, and how her own pungent scent drowned out the light citrus room incense she used.

  When she got to the crown, she found the warm resistance of metal. She paused, gaze flickering, but his ruthlessly held her, demanding she learn by touch. Straining the length of her arm up to his tip, she felt a piercing, topped with a round ball cap. Once, she’d lain with a smoothskin, a paid lover, who had worn a ring around his penis. It had been divine. But it had not been embedded in his flesh.

  “Does it hurt you?”

  “If it gets twisted.”

  “It must have been agony to have done to you.” She slid her thumb beneath the button, which rested in the soft flat space on the front of his crown.

  “I don’t remember it. It happened while Bear wore me.”

  “Poor Bear. Why do you keep it in?”

  “I must. Until they’re dead. They must believe I’m still theirs.”

  Her hips were lifting now, feet braced so she could hump the air. “I hate talking about them now.”

  “Look at it.”

  Her gaze flew down his thick chest to where his dark erection rose from a silky nest of black hair. The bar passed through the head of his penis, capped with small balls half the size of her pinky fingertip. She smoothed her thumb over the downy head of him, her jaw sagging in desire.

  “You’re not afraid.”

  “I’ve taken many exotic things inside me, Donte. If it hurts, I’ll tell you.” She pressed on him, compressing the soft head of him into the bar. That’s what would happen to him when he drove inside her. Flicking her gaze back to his, she whispered, “But I can tell this will only add to my pleasure.”