Hidden In Darkness (A Seven Realms Book Book 1)

by S. J. Stewart

  Orren shook his head. “There’s a depth to his scent, but old blood is the most potent.”

  Huffing his chest, Andrei rolled his eyes. “They’re just jealous.” He murmured under his breath.

  “And an Incubus?”

  “He smells a bit like rain on a summer’s day, fresh and exhilarating. Orren’s scent is different than other Incubi because of his level of strength and age. There is none as powerful as he in his kind. It layers his scent.”

  Andrei rolled his eyes. “Berserkers smell like wet bear and death.”

  Confusion quirked Melas’ brow as she looked down at Zura. She gave her a shy smile before shoving a piece of fruit she’d never seen into her mouth. “Why bear?”

  “It’s my second form. I can battle in this form quite easily. As my rage increases, I tend to lose control and my form changes. First into a bear of sorts. Then, to my Berserker form which is—” He let his words fall away before lifting his shoulders. “It’s best I don’t get to my Berserker form. My beast is quite unmanageable. Pulling out of that form is difficult.”

  An unmanageable beast.

  Melas couldn’t help but wonder what that looked like. From his size, she could only imagine how large he would be as a Berserker. This all seemed so surreal.

  Men changing into bears.

  Vampires.

  Sex demons.

  Orren’s eyes still bore into her. She could feel them like a cool breath on hot skin, causing goosebumps to trail up her arms and down her back. She kept her gaze on Ridhor. His blank expression was safe. Looking at Andrei as he sulked would just make her laugh.

  Andrei was insanely good-looking. The kind of guy most would rip out of magazines and put up on their wall. Everything about him was flawless, from his smooth skin to his brown hair. Every strand perfectly swept back coming together at a smooth point at the nape of his long, muscular neck.

  He wasn’t what she expected when he said he was a Vampire. His skin was not pale like the dead. It was actually a warm brown. She would guess he was from somewhere warm, without seasons. His hair was chestnut brown, his eyes, golden, were light and playful instead of dark and brooding. His looks would be intimidating if not for his personality. Slumped back in his chair, sexy the way he effortlessly leaned back. The chiselled jaw. The smouldering eyes. Then, you threw in the way his lips were pursed as he sulked and it made the whole thing quite absurd.

  Ridhor was good looking too, in a very dangerous kind of way. He was pure brute masculinity that would make most with a lick of sanity shy away. He was what she would imagine a Viking would look like; hard and intimidating. Yet, every time Melas caught him trying to get Zura’s attention she saw a side of him that made her want to stab him just a little bit less.

  Orren was intense, dark beauty. The unpredictability of navigating dark waters without a star in the sky to light your way. His brown skin was deep, rich soils you could plant seeds of lust in you knew would blossom and bloom into a garden you lost control of. He vibrated with something that ignited your sexual appetite, calling to your desires in a way that made you blush at the filthy thoughts taking root. It was carnal, a craving you couldn’t avoid the longer you looked at him. His intensity was uncomfortable. She didn’t know how to feel under his gaze.

  This group wasn’t lacking good-looking men. His white henley was unbuttoned, the fabric pulled taut across broad shoulders and a muscular chest. His presence was a black hole, sucking at anything nearby and threatening to make you get lost in it.

  Maybe that was what was making her so uncomfortable. It’d been a while since she’d been around men who prompted any kind of primal response.

  Or had it?

  She honestly didn’t know anymore. It felt like that was true.

  Melas told herself to look away from Orren, keeping her eyes on Ridhor. “And me?”

  The dimple on his cheekbone flexed and deepened for a moment, his one hazel eye suddenly intense. His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled her, even from where he was all the way over at the end of the table. “Your smell is like drinking until you’re dancing the line between consciousness and oblivion.”

  Her eyes widened.

  What the hell did that mean?

  Ridhor sat up a little straighter, leaning towards her as his nostrils flared again. The intensity in his gaze told her he was no longer a safe place to look. She looked to Andrei, who was the next safest bet. She would laugh at his sulking and defuse the tension building around her.

  Big mistake.

  Andrei’s jaw flexed, his eyes once again red-rimmed as the points of his teeth pressed into his bottom lip. His eyes moved over Melas as though he was trying to taste her from where he sat. “Your scent in addition to how physically attractive you are is a lethal blend. Then, you throw in the fact you’re a natural warrior.” He lifted his brow lazily, his eyes still hooded with lust.

  Taking Ridhor’s blade from where it rested on her thigh, she drove it into the top of the table next to her plate. “I would thank you both to stop looking at me as though I should be on one of these platters.” She said through her teeth.

  Ridhor dropped his gaze, picking up his fork and busying himself with his food.

  Andrei merely shrugged. “The scent thing may be enough to throw you, but don’t be coy. Your combat skills are amazing and you have to have some pride in that. You bested the last Berserker and one of the oldest Vampires in one day. As for your attractiveness, there is no way you haven’t seen a mirror. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of advances by anyone with good vision.”

  “Andrei.” Orren’s voice was light, but it was enough to cause him to sit up, picking up his fork to eat.

  Silence surrounded them.

  Ridhor busied himself with his food, his eyes guiltily shooting to Zura as though he forgot she was there earlier. Andrei let out a sigh, lifting a wine glass filled with thick red liquid to his lips. She forced any thought of what it could be out of her mind when Orren’s presence called to her.

  Orren ignored the two, his intense gaze setting Melas’ skin on fire. “I find the condition you’re in quite interesting. How you managed to survive whatever attack took place in the Black Wood has me intrigued. It does tell me there is some type of threat to both you and your child. It would be smart to stay here until we can identify that threat. Not that there would be many beings who would waste their time threatening mere humans.”

  The word tasted sour in his mouth, his lips curling up in distaste. “It seems intriguing to me you would invite two humans to stay with you, since it’s obvious you don’t like them.”

  Orren smiled slowly as she mocked him. “Oh, you’re no human. We have yet to figure out what you are, but that much is quite clear.”

  Not human? How would they know?

  Even solely going off this scent thing they were talking about, it couldn’t be enough to say they weren’t human without a doubt. They admitted she smelled different from anything they’ve smelt, and they didn’t strike her as the kind of beings who spent any more time with humans than necessary.

  Humans could have an array of scents the three of them just never come across. Scents could change, right?

  Frustration filled her as she became aware of all the things she didn’t know. She didn’t know how she even came to be in the Dark Realm. If she were human, it seemed an odd choice.

  Looking past the table, she stared out the large windows to the lavender lake. The sky was an artistic blend of blacks, greys, reds, and pinks that seemed more appropriate on a canvas than the sky. The colours dancing together should be more ominous, more relatable to the Dark Realm most humans would refer to as Hell. However, Melas found it calming; a ghostly beautiful scene.

  The trees surrounding the cabin and lake weren’t the same deadly things as in the Black Wood. The leaves were a blend of oranges, reds, and yellows more akin to trees from the Mortal Realm during autumn. The colours on the trees danced together similar to flames in a hearth and seemed to have
the same kind of movement, but it wasn’t in the burning depths of torturous Hell kind of way. Like the sky, it was breathtaking.

  Zura wrapped her small hand in the dirty fabric of Melas’ shirt. Her hand skimming an open wound causing her to inhale slightly.

  Andrei leaned forward, nostrils flaring as Zura’s eye closed, sleep taking hold of her once again. “Perhaps we should get you cleaned and patched up. I’m sure we could wrestle up a suitable change of clothes for you both now your bellies are full.”

  Orren nodded. “Whatever you decide, you can’t very well stay in your current condition.”

  Weariness still clung to her. Without any other distractions, her body was starting to ache. Her walls slowly falling away to let the pain in.

  Wrapping her arms around Zura, she lifted her from the chair. Her head fell to rest on Melas’ shoulder, her mass of curls blending with Melas’ to hang down her back. “A bath would be good.” She admitted, reluctantly. Picking Ridhor’s knife off the table, she held it in her free hand. “With the knife.”

  Andrei laughed. “Of course. With the knife.”

  Ridhor pushed away from the table, getting to his feet. “It’s a good knife. Excellently crafted. I’m not surprised you’re reluctant to part with it.” He moved around the table, stacking the plates before disappearing out of the room.

  Orren didn’t stand from his seat, his eyes still watching her as though she were a puzzle to be solved. “I trust Andrei can show you to the bathroom. I have things I need to attend to. It shouldn’t take long. I’m around should you have any more questions.”

  All she had were questions.

  6

  ORREN

  When he first saw her, he thought she was feigning ignorance. The longer he sat with her, watching her beautiful face change in reaction to the answers they provided her, it became clear she had no idea what she was.

  That was just another frustration. Yet another place he couldn’t look for answers.

  Ridhor could be heard in the kitchen, tidying up after their supper. It was odd for him to lose his mask and show them a glimpse of the emotions he locked away inside himself. His attraction to the woman was clear as the nose on his face as he breathed her in. His eyes filling with a hunger Orren never saw on his dear friend.

  No one was more uncomfortable with that development than Ridhor. He would likely clean meticulously even though there were Demons who saw to the cooking and cleaning. When there was no more cleaning to be done, he would take to the woods.

  How exhausting it must be to have to hide your emotions, steer them like a ship on tumultuous waters. He couldn’t feed his beast. If he fed into his beast he would lose control.

  Ridhor was constantly balancing himself on the prick of a pin.

  If he could convince the woman to stay, which he would because he rarely failed when he set his mind to something, he wondered how it would affect their Berserker.

  He waited until Andrei and the woman’s footsteps fell away before pushing up from the table. He made his way through the long hall towards his study. It was a dimly lit room, the log walls covered with bookcases. The only break in the shelves the large window looking out at the forest and a floor-to-ceiling mirror with an intricate copper frame. Copper hands grabbing over one another to reach into the reflective glass. It was eerily beautiful. Piles of leather-bound books were stacked all around the room. The only furniture his large desk and a set of brown leather chairs.

  Walking over to the mirror, he reached a long finger out and tapped it to the glass.

  It rippled, a drop in the water around his fingertip before a woman appeared on the other side. A thin layer of transparent grey fabric hung over her from her head down to her feet. It clung to her every line, being pulled tight against her by some unseen force trying to hide her from the world. She stepped towards the glass, pressing her fabric-covered palm to her side of the mirror. “Orren,” Her voice was low and sounded far away but still boomed inside his mind. “You come to me for answers.”

  Stepping back from the mirror, he leaned his hip back against his desk folding his arms over his chest. “Always a pleasure, Ela.”

  Ela threw her head back, arching her back in an unnatural way as she kept her hand pressed against the glass. The fabric on her head pulled tight, her movements ticking like the hands of a clock, jolted and harsh. “It seems you have guests.”

  “I have questions.” He told her.

  She laughed. “Everyone always has questions when they call for me or my sisters. I don’t need to be an Oracle to know if I am here, you have questions.”

  Orren nodded. “Of course. Ridhor came upon two females in the Black Wood.”

  “A woman and a child. Important parts of her mind blank. Shadows of truth buried too deep for her to find.” Ela twisted again, pushing against the fabric, a prison binding her beneath it. “She claims to be human, but you are not so sure.”

  “I’m sure she is not human,” he replied.

  In the dreamscape he couldn’t smell a being, however, other markers made it obvious. An aura surrounding them, a flicker of their inner being for those with a more human form. For others like a lot of the Fae and Demons, their forms made their beings evident. She’d shown no signs in the dreamscape to point him in the right direction. If he didn’t know any better he would believe she were human. Yet, he knew without a doubt she wasn’t.

  Pushing off the desk, he paced around it before settling to look out the window. Night was coming, hopefully with it would come a sense of peace. He was a child of the night, thriving when the sun had long retired for the day. He called to the night in hopes it would bring him a sense of clarity but since the woman came into his life, clarity had been elusive.

  The woman, he thought. He hadn’t even bothered to get her name.

  “Melas,” Ela said, as though reading his thoughts. To his knowledge, an Oracle could not hear your thoughts. But thoughts imprinted on you like little truths, and truths were an Oracle’s bread and butter. “The woman is called Melas. The child; Zura.” She paused. “The presence of a child would make human the only plausible species for the woman. None other in the realms can procreate because of the curse.”

  He nodded. “Nothing about any of this makes sense, Ela. She came to me in the dreamscape, seeking me out. That shouldn’t be possible. Yet, she did on numerous occasions. She’s in the Dark Realm, which seems just as impossible for a human as bearing children would be for any being outside the Mortal Realm. Her scent is just as perplexing. Perhaps a Mage?”

  “Even I cannot see her species from here within The Veil.” Ela paused. “Curious indeed.”

  An Oracle as powerful as Ela should be able to identify a mere human with no trouble no matter where she was. Being unable to tell Melas’ species from inside The Veil only solidified his suspicion she wasn’t human.

  Even the strongest Caster couldn’t hide its species from an Oracle.

  “I need to feel her flesh,” Ela said finally. “The answers are hidden there.”

  Orren wondered if Melas would be receptive to allowing Ela to touch her. From the wounds on Andrei and Ridhor, it was clear she wasn’t someone who wanted to be touched. “I will need to speak with her first.”

  “No harm can come to me from the warrior, but it is best to be sure she will allow me to uncover her secrets,” Ela confirmed.

  Right.

  No problem.

  He just had to get the knife-wielding woman in the bath to agree to let a strange Oracle touch her so he could learn all her secrets.

  Easy.

  7

  MELAS

  The bathroom wasn’t what she expected in a log cabin in the middle of the woods. The walls in the large room were still the dark log and white chinking, but the floor was covered with a reflective copper tile that felt like walking on mirrors.

  The far wall was floor-to-ceiling windows similar to the dining room. The huge circular tub was set in the middle of the room. More a pool than
a tub, sunk into the floor. The rim a massive copper polished pipe. Against one wall was a glass shower with no visible dials or knobs. The opposite wall had a large white counter stretched from wall to wall. Above it, a framed mirror went from corner to corner along the length of the room. Plush white towels sat on the counter, four copper sinks evenly spaced out.

  Heavy candleholders surrounded the room. On the floors, the counter, surrounding the tub. There must be thirty or forty of them in the luxurious room. It made her feel like she lived in a time with no electricity having so many candles surrounding her, or like she was in the process of being seduced.

  Neither was true.

  By the bathroom door, there was a spacious closet where Melas assumed the toilet was hiding.

  Zura leaned back into her chest, her eyes still heavy as Melas soaped her arms. “You have to be sure not to get too comfortable here,” Melas whispered. “Always be alert. Try to remain unseen as much as possible.”

  “Yes, mama.” She nodded, opening her mouth in a yawn.

  “Make sure there’s never too much space between us and you always know where I am.”

  “Yes, mama.” Her voice was heavy with sleep as Melas shampooed and conditioned her hair. They’d been through so much in such a short amount of time. She felt as exhausted as Zura looked. “The food was yummy.”

  Melas smiled. “Yes, it was. I was surprised how much you put away.”

  Silence built between them as Zura played with the frothy bubbles surrounding them in the pool of a tub. They could easily fit another four or five people in here.

  “I don’t remember anything before downstairs,” Zura said.

  Neither did she. “We’ll figure everything out, my love.” She kissed the top of her head. “Bellies are full and we’re just about clean. Now, all that seems to be missing is a good night’s sleep. After that, things will be more clear.” She hoped.

  Yawning, Zura nodded. “The big one is funny.”