by Bevan Greer
Even the devels of Dark World usually fought against the demons for a reason, for some power they might wrestle to control or to right a wrong felt done to them. Yet the Cazeth had lived and fed off of Mystique hoping what? To one day destroy it all? For what purpose?
“For that purpose,” Orsan said, reading her mind. “You, Naria, you come from Dark World. You know how things should work.”
Orsan landed them both before the throne and plunged a large hand in her hair, forcing her neck back as he stared at the slim, white column of her vulnerable throat. He leaned down and bit her softly, making her gasp in pain as she felt a trickle of blood run over her neck.
“So tender,” Orsan murmured thoughtfully. “Such lovely flesh for a Dark Worlder. Or should I call you an Offworlder now? Seeing as how you refused your people for the affections of a mere Psi?” Orsan sniffed in disdain and Naria wondered at the hint of pride that tainted him.
“Why am I here?” Naria asked. “What do you want from me?”
Orsan dropped her suddenly and Naria fell to her knees painfully on the solid rock beneath them.
“I want nothing from you,” Orsan said in a mild voice, his many cadences blending curiously into one as he studied her. “Nothing except to pleasure you beyond your wildest dreams.” Orsan smiled. “Imagine what that might do to your lover, Naria. To see you writhing beneath me, to watch me plunder your tender flesh and fill you with my seed,” he said, his eyes mottling from black to white and back to black. “I do believe that sight might very well take precious Jace Arel into madness. Oddly enough I couldn’t break him using the elements or with mind control. But you, Naria, you are the key.”
Naria flinched under his hungered gaze and refused to look above her, needing to control her fears and shield her thoughts.
“You won’t break Jace, Orsan,” she said quietly. “There is a strength in him that you have never seen, nor have I, for that matter.”
“Nonsense, girl.” He flared his wings behind him and curled his hands into fists. “Jace is the only creature ever to escape from me. And I find his challenge thrilling, alive and so very, very tempting.” Orsan stopped speaking then and tilted his head as if listening to something.
Naria could pick up the faint sounds of that foreign clicking before it faded.
“So he’s got more friends now, does he?” Orsan smiled evilly and turned his attention back to Naria. “Well then, let’s give them all a little show, shall we?”
Just as Jace and the others had rejoined in the jungle, they all fell to their knees in anguish as a large mental roar echoed throughout the kingdom. Koneru tried to shield Jace but could not stop himself from falling to the ground. Jace tumbled from Koneru’s arms, his scored flesh bitten with sticks and dirt from the ground.
Jace said nothing, merely waited to see Orsan’s latest vision of evil. But what he saw made his blood run cold.
Before everyone floated a vision of Orsan holding Naria naked in his arms. She lay stunned, limp and staring sightlessly out at them. Then Orsan bent over Jace’s woman and kissed her brutally, his long taloned fingers carving lines of pain and blood into Naria’s soft flesh.
Jace growled low in his throat, his heart churning as his control began to slip. How he had managed to maintain his core of strength under Orsan’s earlier torture had surprised him, but he had maintained. Threats to Naria, to his very heart, however, undid him as nothing else could. Even knowing Orsan only did these things to provoke him couldn’t stop Jace’s temperature from rising, his anger growing uncontrollably.
“Jace, don’t let him control you!” He heard Naria’s mental shout before the vision faded, Orsan’s cry of outrage overwhelming Naria’s tired mind.
“Naria,” Jace groaned and sagged on the ground, struggling to control himself until the time when he could again see her, touch her to make sure that she suffered no fatal harm. Jace cursed at his physical weakness and withdrew into himself, needing to heal at this critical moment when all seemed lost.
Jace could not lose Naria, not now, he thought. Mystique herself held not the allure of life that Naria did in her deep purple eyes and welcoming smile.
At his thoughts, the planet seemed to shimmer around him and Jace heard the others gasp and murmur as the ground trembled beneath their feet.
“Come,” Castor shouted over the noise. “We have to get to safety!”
Jace found himself again lifted by Koneru as the large party moved quickly into the heart of the jungle.
“Sorry for the rough ride,” Koneru mumbled but Jace was lost to his deep feelings the planet urged him to feel. As if against his will, Jace found himself tracing every step of his adventures with Naria. From their very first meeting in Dark World to the passionate interlude on Rovi and further into Vembi, his memories lingered on her taste and the feel of being deep within her, of feeling joined to her, one in spirit.
And as his thoughts and memories consumed him, Jace smiled and relaxed, comforted in Mystique’s strange grasp.
“I don’t like this, Mikhel,” Arana heard Castor say as the SpaceStalker crew hunkered over Jace’s prone form. “He hasn’t moved in half the night and even his sister says she can’t touch his mind. Maybe what he saw pushed him over the edge.”
“It would have nearly killed me to see Carinna so abused,” Nesham admitted quietly, his gaze drawn to Jace’s still body.
“No, he’s stronger than that,” Mikhel said frowning, drawing Arana’s attention. Arana still didn’t know what she felt about the large male with extraordinary senses. He was unlike any male she had ever met, not that she had encountered that many non-Psi in her lifetime. “I can’t explain it but I feel something very odd forming around him. It’s as if new life is generating but I can’t fathom how…”
Arana approached her brother with more healing towels containing Mystique minerals and hot water. She continued to place them over his burnt body and as the men watched, she cared for him gently. She sighed, thinking it had been years since she had been able to care for him properly. Though junior to her brother in years, she had always held the role of healer in her home, taking after her mother.
“It has been many years since we have seen Jace,” Arana said softly. “And now that our parents have died, it is only fitting that the new king be ready to take his throne once we have disposed of the Cazeth.”
“New king?” Castor asked in amazement. The others around him looked startled as well.
Arana glanced up at them. “Hadn’t Jace told you who he was? I would assume that since he trusted you enough to bring you to Mystique, he would have told you all of it.”
“No,” Castor said with a scowl. “Why don’t you tell us?”
“It’s simple really.” Arana shrugged and returned her attention to Jace, feeling a bit startled that her brother would trust these men with Mystique, his life’s blood, but not the simple truth about his lineage. “Our parents were a part of the Zescha, the royal family of Mystique. Jace and I grew up in the keep. Though our royalty is much more relaxed than royalty throughout the System, it is a position of much authority.
“Once our parents were killed fighting Orsan and the Cazeth, the fight then fell to Jace. I always knew he would one day return to us, that he had escaped with the sole purpose of coming back to fight again. And now that he has, he will assume the mantle of leader of the Psi. It is his birthright.”
Mikhel laughed and everyone turned to look at him. “By the Goddess, but that man has more surprises than anyone I know. He comes from a planet that doesn’t exist, and of course he has to rule it.”
The others grinned and even laughed.
“Of course we exist,” Arana said, affronted. She stood after finishing with Jace and would have left when Mikhel grabbed her arm to stop her.
“No offense intended, Princess,” Mikhel said with amusement, a twinkle of humor lining his bright blue eyes. “But to know your brother and work alongside him, well, it’s hard to see him as a king.”
“Perhaps in the System, but not here. Jace has untold powers that only a Psi ruler can be born with,” Arana said and stared at Mikhel’s large hand on her arm. She didn’t know why this man intrigued her more than the others, but something about him bothered her on a fundamental level she couldn’t quite explain.
She watched as Mikhel stared at her and his eyes narrowed. Incredibly the blue in his eyes intensified and Arana blinked, surprised to find Mystique prodding Mikhel as if looking for something only a Psi would have.
“What is that?” Mikhel asked as he let go of her arm.
“It’s Mystique,” Arana answered, waiting curiously to see what the foreign man made of her words. But instead of scoffing in disbelief or laughing, he merely nodded.
“Of course,” Mikhel said, as if her answer explained his question clearly. “The life around us is very strong, but moreso due to the planet’s life energies.”
Arana looked to see what the others made of his words but found that they had drifted away, now conversing with her people. Arana frowned, not liking that she’d been so wrapped up in the Fenturi that she’d disregarded her surroundings.
“How is it that you can accept this so readily?” she asked Mikhel curiously.
“Ah, sweet,” he said in a husky voice as he stared at her. “I’m a full-blooded Fenturi. Know you anything of my people?”
Arana frowned and stepped back from him, not wanting to be caught in his seductive web again. She had too much to worry about to fall prey to his advances, and yet her body refused to acknowledge the truth. Instead, it leaned towards his touch, reveled in his affectionate words and heated glances.
Arana shook her head and moved away, needing a brief respite from the overwhelming male. She knew the Fenturi were reputedly fierce warriors and devastating lovers, a sensual people that were soon to vanish into extinction at the hands of the Bylaran king.
She smiled grimly, recalling her lessons on System history and how loudly she and her brother had protested the world outside of Mystique. But their parents had been adamant to learn as much as they could about the worlds around them, suggesting that the time had indeed come to walk outside the safety of the planet. Unfortunately the Orsan had arrived before that could happen. And now Arana wondered if the time might come when the Psi would readily leave their world to explore life outside of Mystique.
Arana looked up as a loud murmur of voices grew. She noticed the SpaceStalker crew in heated debate with several of her people. And then something happened that Arana knew she would never forget, not to her dying day.
The jungle around them quieted and Mystique seemed to scream out in warning as the air around the small group shimmered into dark and frightful forms of life.
“Where exactly, is my daughter?” a large man asked. He had the palest skin, dark hair and surprisingly handsome features. But when he smiled without humor at Castor and his crew, his teeth glistened, their sharpness punctuated by the gleaming points of whiteness. His eyes were as dark as Jace’s, but what really grabbed Arana’s attention were the two dark black wings that rose and stretched behind him, flexing in strength as the large man’s irritation grew.
“Lord Demise,” Castor said with no small surprise. “How did you get here so soon?”
“Did you honestly think I’d wait for your signal to deal with the Cazeth?” Demise answered with a handsome sneer. “Really, Castor. You could use more time in Dark World.”
Arana gasped as she realized what type of creature stood before her. Another Dark Worlder had entered Mystique uninvited, and this one surrounded by demon-like creatures staring around with hunger.
“And who is this lovely young morsel?” Demise asked as he noticed Arana.
“Arana. She’s Jace’s sister, and none of your concern,” Mikhel said, smoothly stepping between Demise and Arana. Arana stared at Mikhel in surprise, as did Demise.
Then Lord Demise surprised her by chuckling. “I see. Very well. But perhaps she can explain why I no longer sense Naria? And what of the young blond fool there? He didn’t get himself killed yet, I hope.”
Still battling his consciousness and the firm hold Mystique held over him, Jace could only dimly recognize what sounded like Naria’s father asking about him.
He needed to heal, to get stronger, he thought with frustration. He needed to rid Mystique of Orsan. He needed… Naria. Suddenly his heart overflowed with love and he sighed as a peace stole over his body. He thought perhaps that he heard others yelling around him but he could only feel Mystique as her energy poured through him.
When his lassitude finally wore off, Jace sat up hesitantly, expecting to feel the lingering aftereffects of pain that had been inflicted by Orsan. To his surprise, and that of everyone around him, he bore no trace of scarring or injury.
“Amazing,” Arana said, her blond brows arched in astonishment, her dark eyes seething with curiosity and concern. “Jace, are you alright?”
“I think so,” he said and stood with her help. Once on his feet he closed his eyes and thought he could feel Mystique’s energy surging through him. Jace opened his eyes and saw Lord Demise and his minions staring at him with something akin to dislike. “What happened to me? And how did they get here? Has it truly been a whole day?” he asked, fearful now that his memories were returning. Had Naria been in Orsan’s clutches all day?
“Well, Psi,” Lord Demise answered him. “It looks like the rumors were true,” he said and stared down at his feet in disgust. “Your planet is indeed alive and apparently it healed you.”
“She,” Jace corrected. “Mystique has a decidedly feminine aura about her,” he said. Then he smiled down at his sister and hugged her to him. “And she is most pleased with your efforts over the years,” he told Arana.
“Now it seems we have everyone in place to finally rid this world of the Cazeth. Lord Demise? I assume you and your army are ready?”
Demise nodded. “Quite. Let’s get to work so that we may get out of here as soon as possible. This planet is definitely most unwelcoming,” he said with discomfort. His minions looked the same.
“Yes, let’s hurry this up, shall we?” another familiar voice sounded. Jace grinned to see Demise’s expression turn even more sour as Devel Keep Krital appeared. “This world is ten times worse than Wern,” Krital complained. The cloven hoofed devel caused several of the Psi to step back, as if Demise had not been enough of a shock already.
“And what are these creatures? Psi? I thought they didn’t exist,” Krital said in confusion. “Demise? Explain this.”
Jace held up his hand before an argument could ensue. “Gentlemen, ladies? If I could please have your attention? The Cazeth are at this moment bent on torturing Naria to death. And as Dark Worlders I know you can’t let this happen.” Then he turned to the Psi. “And since Naria is my mate and thus your queen, I know you will not allow this to happen.”
Jace watched as everyone united under the occasion to save the future queen of Zescha, a Dark World shayna.
“Then I suggest you hear what I’ve got planned before we head back in there to destroy the Cazeth.”
Orsan stared warily at the beautiful Dark Worlder sitting at his feet. She shivered on the cold floor, wearing only a brief loincloth and scrap of material to cover her breasts. Orsan thought the outfit quite entertaining, as the material hinted at Naria’s ripe fertility while embarrassing her a great deal.
He ran a hand over the curve of one of her breasts and was pleased to see her glare at him, shoving his taloned fingers away. Such spirit, he thought excitedly. Thoughts of breaking Naria were almost as tantalizing as thoughts of crushing Jace Arel’s winsome spirits.
Orsan smiled and floated above her, needing to feel the air rushing through his wings. Ah, but he missed Wern. He had thought himself immune from the pull of his homeworld, but the years apart had only whetted his appetite to return. Even torturing the strong-willed Psi, the most formidable opponent Orsan had found in the System, hadn’t been the enough to rid
his splintered mind of Wern.
Orsan glanced around him and studied the frozen wall of horror surrounding the throne room. The Psi had put up a good fight but their mental powers had been no real match for the Cazeth. When mind control had begun failing the Cazeth, they had relied on their abilities to control the elements. And against the might forces of fire and ice, the Psi had lost their will to fight.
Orsan sighed and stared above him, circling higher and higher until he felt the great emptiness almost consuming him. He wondered that he hadn’t closed the whirling void before now and found himself not caring much if it consumed this world. Always before he had been careful to allow only a hint of chaos to pervade Mystique, not yet wanting to destroy the planet until he had Jace back in his grasp.
But now with Jace so close, Orsan couldn’t control his need for the emptiness above him. How he missed Wern’s blanket of impossibilities and imperfections. The sheer randomness of his world would have made any other creature mad. Yet the Cazeth thrived on it.
“Your time is soon coming,” he heard Naria whisper softly, a grim smile of retribution on her full lips that Orsan found aggravating. The little demon should have been begging him for mercy by now. Yet she merely stared at him with hatred and disdain, still strong despite her physical ailments.
Orsan studied the female closely, wondering again why she didn’t seem to fit in any Dark World mold. She didn’t have the familiar Dark Worlder crimson locks, nor did she possess the black eyes so common to those people. And he could feel the compassion inside of her, another contradiction that seemed to set her apart from what he should have expected.
“You are something special, aren’t you Naria?” Orsan asked as he drifted back to the ground. He watched her for a reaction, pleased when he didn’t get one. His talons grew and he shifted his fingers, sliding the long claws against one another, enjoying the subtle flinch he caught from Naria.
“Orsan,” a raspy multitude of voices interrupted his musings. “We have intruders.”