by Jamie Magee
“You would fare well with Talon being with another? In your breaks did that sit well with you?”
Fury came to Reveca then. “No.”
Cashton let the oars settle. “You now see what I’m against. Talon is not made of you, yet your jealousy is present.”
A murderous stare came to her. “You said you haven’t met my sister.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then why did you assume what you just said?”
Cashton let an audacious smirk come to him just as he leaned forward. He spoke low, evenly. “When souls with as much power as yours find their mate, there is no limit to their power. If anything, it grows too great too fast. You don’t linger with the living, play with ordinary magic for the fun of it. You do so because you are limited.” Cashton lifted his chin. “And you don’t glow with Talon’s touch.”
“Do what?”
“Glow,” Cashton said as he reached his fingertips reached for her arm. “When your soul recognizes its counterpart, the soul gleams, your auras connect. My dear Queen of the Edge, you are far too regulated and dim to have found your mate.”
“This is obvious to you?” Reveca said with a lifted brow wondering if this weakness was as openly displayed as she feared.
“To me yes, but my heritage demands that I recognize that aspect. I have my doubts anyone else, including Talon, is aware.”
Reveca looked away, knowing that was not true. Talon felt this gap in her. Felt her grieve for something she should have let go long ago.
The night became silent, the water still, the stench barely breathable.
“So are we just crashing this party or what?” Cashton asked.
“Saige set it up. He knows we’re coming, what we want, what we have.”
At the dock, men in long black shrouds were waiting with lanterns.
Cashton ensured that at all times he had one hand on Reveca. It was a claim among these men. It didn’t mean that she was Cashton’s, it meant that Cashton was charged with ensuring her safety, and would reverently—and if needed, violently—do so.
The dock led to a jagged path, and then deep into a cave. Reveca kept an utterly bored look on her face, but she was disgusted. The Lords could manifest anything they wanted, they could live in massive palaces if they wished, and this one lived in a hole. That was proof that he wasn’t going to be easy to trade with.
At the very least Crass decided to mock a throne, one made of red rocks. He himself was wrapped in a shroud of black. His head was bald, with a tattoo that started at his brow and reached the back of his neck, some odd pattern. He was heavy, and he smelled like sour milk. The entire room did.
“Well, well, well,” Crass said as he leaned back. “When I heard you were coming I thought to myself I must be trapped in some erotic fantasy of mine.”
“Always so flattering,” Reveca said as kindly as she could manage. Being discreet as possible she glanced around the room, finding nothing but sodden gross souls just like Crass.
“You’re looking for my inventory.”
“I am.”
“Someone specific I assume.”
“You know who I want.”
He chuckled. “And what shall you give me for this specific soul.”
Reveca raised the box in her hand, watched as Crass inhaled. A soul as twisted and selfish as this was a five-course meal to him, a treasure. One that had crossed him in their breathing days, well, that would have been impossible for him to resist. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to toy with Reveca, though, and she knew that.
“And just where did you find this treasure.”
“Fell at my doorstep.”
He laughed, a big bellowing laugh. “You. I like you.” He nodded to the man at his side. “Bring them in.” Crass leaned forward on his knees and gave Cashton a once over before his attention went back to Reveca. “You want King.”
“Clearly. Is he your best? I didn’t bring you a small trade. The barter must be even.”
Crass smirked showing his yellow teeth. “All the ladies seem to think so.”
“Well then it should be a relief for me to take him from you. I doubt you want another distracting your females.”
“Not really. I just made the others look like him. It stopped the squabbling.” He stared for a long moment. “Why do you want this false king?”
“A king?” Reveca said with a lifted brow. She was ready to murder her sister. She sent her to this Lord with a sleaze of a soul expecting him to trade for whom was assumed to be a false king.
If by some miracle Reveca pulled this off, she would have this King’s enemies to contend with as well.
She recovered well from being caught off guard. “Perhaps we do need to barter for more than one soul. A false king is a nightmare to be had.”
Crass’s eyes gleamed. “Well played. You see, you are not the first that has come for him. Won’t be the last. But you’re different.”
“How so?”
“You roam the living and the dead. You rule the Edge. You can bring more than one soul to me.”
“Can. But won’t.” She nodded to Cashton. He dropped the duffle bag he had in his hand. All the smokes and liquor inside of it could clearly be seen. “I can bring you this, though.”
Crass moved his head side to side. “You are a sly one, tempting my vices.” He hesitated as if he were in great thought. “I’ll make you the same deal as the others. You take the one you pick. If you pick him, you win. That is of course if you agree to see me more often.”
“Bring you more souls,” Reveca said as she narrowed her stare.
“Well, if I had new souls to enjoy the company of, I might forget to tell others that I no longer have King. I might forget to take the illusion of his appearance away from my men…I would imagine that would make your life easier on the top side.”
“Who is hunting him?”
“Everyone. He’s a vile son of a bitch. Fits in perfectly here.”
“How long has he been here?”
“Not long enough. Not sure I want him to part just yet. He can be rather entertaining.”
No doubt he was. If this King person had been there less than a century he was stark raving mad. He would have no memory of his life. Not the good memories anyway. Basically he was sitting in judgment. His mind was amplifying each and every deed he did. In this environment, Reveca doubted he was finding peace with anything he discovered.
Right then a line of men began to walk in—not men, walking Gods. Each stood at least six foot four, broad shouldered, dark hair. And the eyes, the eyes were indescribable. So blue they were nearly clear, and they were wrapped in long thick lashes.
Those eyes. Reveca felt the wind knocked out of her. Couldn’t be, she thought to herself. But memories from long ago started to emerge. The eyes, that was what she never forgot. That and the memory of his kiss, the feel of his soul.
Reveca looked from soul to soul, all with the same image, all the while feeling a whirlwind of emotion erupting inside. She was a scared twenty-year-old girl all over again.
She felt Cashton’s stare on her. That helped. It made her realize that she had to stay calm, uncaring.
He leaned into her. “Conceal your energy. Don’t touch any of them.”
Reveca looked up in question. Cashton was well versed in the knowledge of all the tricks the Lords of death were known for. “Focus on the eyes.”
The eyes were what was making her crumble, but she surely couldn’t tell him that.
Each and every one of the souls were lined up along the wall. With a nod from Crass their shrouds were taken off. Bare chested, in nothing more than ragged pants, they all stood. Every ridged muscle taut, glistening with sweat, scuffs of dirt here and there. It took all she had to breathe, to not lick her lips in some inappropriate display of seductive want.
She managed to show no expression. Each one was looking her way, standing obediently still.
“Which one, my dear?” Crass said as he leaned to the side
of his throne and brought his fist to his chin.
Reveca slowly moved to the line, began at one end and paced. She felt a pull on her, one that she hadn’t felt in forever, one that was so blissful that it nearly hurt. He was the third one. She had no doubt, but she kept walking, looking each up and down, even pausing at a few, letting her nails run down their chest.
“Enjoying yourself?” Crass asked.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”
Crass stood from his throne and walked to where she was, standing before the fourth man in line. He breathed in when he reached her side. “That man I sense on you, the one that is a mix of every paranormal being said to be presently born, how’s he going to feel about your new toy?”
She felt it, she didn’t see it. That energy that was pulling her began to prickle with jealously. That feeling was justifying her dormant memories.
“He wouldn’t be a man of mine if he carried insecurity.”
“See, that’s why I like you. You and me we’re one in the same. The universe and all the realms are too large to search for the ‘one;’ it’s easier to create them.”
She didn’t bother responding. Instead she stared up at number four, even held his gaze. “Our deal is I take who I chose, and I bring you souls such as the one I have found today when they land on my doorstep.”
“Land on your doorstep or not, it will take souls for me to forget where our dear King is.”
“Vow it.”
“I vow this barter to you. Guards, release him,” Crass said looking at the fourth.
“No. It’s him I want,” Reveca said moving her stare to number three, to the one that had yet to meet her eyes, to the one that seemed the fiercest of them all. The one she felt calling her very being to life.
“Him,” Crass said coldly.
“Yes. Him. You vowed this deal.”
Crass looked down at Reveca. “You are one sly little bitch.” He smirked. “Let me warn you, darling, my memory, it slips often. I surely hope I see you soon.”
Reveca handed him the box that carried the soul she brought. “Take him,” she said to Cashton.
He stepped forward, took King by his arm, and began to lead him forward.
Not a word was said until the boat had made it far down river. Reveca felt nervous, downright shaky in this small space with King and Cashton. The tension would be great without this awakening within her. What was occurring now was near impossible to handle.
“What’s your real name?” Reveca asked.
King refused to meet her eyes.
“You have a name and it’s not King. What do you remember of your life? Who would have wanted you out of that prison?”
Right then that stare that was as cold as ice met hers. That stare sent a tingle to all the wrong places. “No. It’s not King, but it is the one I’m keeping for now,” he said as he glanced at Cashton.
There was anger in that glance and it made no sense as to why it was there. “Everyone I know, care about, was safer with me in that prison.” With those words he made sure his stare was dead set on Reveca.
“You belong to me as of now. You need to understand that.”
“That is abundantly clear to me.” His voice was so deep, so smooth, it carried a command that would make anyone think he was a king.
Doubt. She wanted to feel that. Deny that it was not him, her first, her only love, but she couldn’t grasp it. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to act as if he were a stranger. “How old is your soul?” she nearly whispered.
His stare dipped to Reveca’s lips, then moved back to her eyes. “Older than yours, sweet. Yet there comes a point where time is irrelevant, yeah?”
She didn’t answer that. Couldn’t. She had heard those words long ago. She wanted to call him on his bullshit, this cold anger he had pouring off him. Wanted to tell him that she knew who he was, but it would have been pointless.
Right now, in King’s mind it was like a dream, coming in and out of focus. There was no way for her to know if he truly remembered the young, naïve girl she was long ago. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to remember that lovesick girl, because she was anything but that now.
“He has to be dressed before we take him back,” Cashton said trying to sway the conversation in a different direction.
King’s eyes moved sharply to Cashton. “Who are you to her. I know you’re not her adored. No, you’re one of The Selected, slayer of Gods.”
“Slayer of Gods,” Reveca repeated without one single ounce of shock. She’d heard those rumors about Cashton before. They all stemmed from her sister’s faith in a Rapture occurring. “This slayer is in my care just as you are. That’s all you need to know about the likes of him.”
King’s top lip lifted ever so subtly. “You make it a point to collect men?”
Someone that had crossed her mind for ages, someone she never let go of, but yet convinced herself was nothing but a fading dream was now before her and he was an asshole, blaming her for having some kind of life when she just rescued him from one of the vilest Lords there was.
There was no telling what infractions he committed to earn his way there, what he did while he was there. It took every ounce of stubbornness she owned, but she refused to let him know what his presence alone was doing to her, refused to let him know that now all of the pain she had pushed down was new once again—and worse the second time around.
“You could say that. What can I say, maybe I had a void I was trying to fill.”
King smirked, shook his head, and looked to the side. “I bet you wasted no time doing that now did you?”
“I’ve wasted plenty of time. Apparently so have you if you landed with the most vile Lord of death there ever was.”
King’s eyes slithered down Cashton. “I did a good deed.” He licked his lips. “Some poor girl’s boy was too busy on his own jaunts to know she needed him. I fought his war.”
Both Reveca and Cashton went ridged; the tension could not have been more penetrating. That comment, that stare, it was way too personal, too directed. Without a doubt it scraped against the demons that Reveca was abundantly clear that Cashton was currently fighting.
“You have a problem with me, mate?” Cashton asked.
King started to laugh. It was a low laugh, one filled with hysteria. “Me? Why would I have a problem with you.” He nodded to Reveca. “You’re a man who knows how to enjoy himself.” He winked. “Good taste in women. I’ll give you that.”
“You’re never going to survive in my Club if you speak like that,” Reveca said. “I have nothing but friendship for Cashton. You’re delusional. It’s your transition. I’d wager you’ll go half mad before you find any sanity.”
King leaned forward, reached his hand toward Reveca, let his fingertips outline her jaw. She could feel his breath, that’s how close he was. That wasn’t all she felt. A raw surge of power rushed through her being, elevating her past any high that she’d ever experienced. “Trust me, sweet. My mind is crystal fucking clear right now.” He let his fingertips trace down her neck. “Yours, however, is not.”
The boat had reached the bank. Cashton stepped out, Reveca stayed, stared into those eyes of King’s. She had no choice but lie right then. If she didn’t he’d never make it back to life. Talon wouldn’t allow it. “I don’t know you. I don’t know who you’ve pissed off but trust me when I tell you that you do not want to add me to that list.”
King stood. “Why, will your Selected mate descend and destroy me? Or is that child he gave you now powerful enough to slaughter his enemies.”
Lover? Child? A silent curse left her lips. Saige. She’d fallen for a man that was said to be from The Selected, another realm. Lorecan. He was the man that overrode Reveca’s magic when she tried to save her own lover. He was the man that did give her sister a child, and vanished almost as suddenly as he appeared.
By the time Reveca realized that somehow long ago her first love had mistaken her sister’s actions as her own and thought
to say differently, King was on the bank—all the Sons in the life were present. Each appraising the soul she had just bartered for.
Reveca stood there still as a statue staring forward as King returned the murderous glares the Sons were giving him.
Fury met Reveca’s soul. The mere idea that her love had found a way to return to her back then, after all the hell she endured, and mistaken her sister for her, thought that she had moved on, was sickening.
If the roles had been reversed, if she had seen such things, she would’ve been self-destructive, done everything that she could to mask the pain. Apparently that is exactly what King had done.
As King stood face to face with Talon, Reveca saw two lifetimes colliding. Two worlds that should never know the other, meeting for the first time.
She felt Cashton’s gaze on her. He had already given a play by play of what went down to the others, but he left out the rest. He left King’s words dormant for Reveca to reveal if she chose to.
That was a bold move in and of itself. This was an MC, a paranormal MC, men with the ability to kill you with a thought. Respect wasn’t requested, it was demanded. Withholding the secrets that Cashton knew could very well expel him from the path he was granted each month. They could take him from this elusive girl he was dead set on loving. Reveca didn’t know what to think about that. She surely didn’t know what to think about how King had called him a God slayer.
Right now she and Cashton were the only ones aware that Saige had just asked Reveca to barter for a love that she had been waiting lifetimes for.
Too many thoughts were rushing through her mind. Her sister’s enigmatic weaving across her life, her beliefs, what was taken from her and what was returned, the wars she had aimed at her in every direction.
Reveca was playing with fire and she knew it.
She didn’t care how lucid King thought he was. As soon as he left the Edge, as soon as he was within the realm of life his memories would be hazed again. She had time to understand him, maybe even time to lead him to believe it was lifetimes after he left her that she found Talon. Of course there was no way to explain away the lifetimes she had since then, no way for her to ever claim not to have deep-rooted emotions for Talon. And she shouldn’t have to; clearly both Reveca and her first love had long ago moved on.