by Kiersten Fay
He gave her a heart-stopping grin and stood to kiss her with renewed hunger. Her arms clasped around his neck and she hitched her legs around his waist. Taking her full weight, he carried her to the bed, following her down onto the mattress. He kissed her in quick succession, finding a new place each time: the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, making his way to her cleavage.
The sensation made her squirm.
She pulled at his shirt. He sat up to shrug out of it, and then went for her dress. As he pushed the hem up her thighs, he made sure to trail his hands along her skin, making her shiver. He discarded the dress to the floor. His belt and pants soon followed.
He returned to the cradled her thighs and his delicious muscles covered her. He found her center and entered. They both let out a guttural sound. As he began to move, euphoria took her and ecstasy assailed her. She became intoxicated by pleasure. At first, she matched his speed with her hips, but soon his thrusts became frenzied, and she could only accept him and the bliss he offered.
Powerful jolts shot through her, and her orgasm burst out in the form of a primitive cry. He followed with a rough groan. Finally, he stilled. His weight came to rest on her while they both gathered their breaths. Her fingers trailed over his back.
Then his head snapped up. “I love you, Priya. I never want to lose you again. Marry me.”
She choked on a gasp and searched his expression. He looked sincere and anxious.
“It’s a little soon for proposals, isn’t it?”
“Not for me. I’ve spent far too long without you. I know I only have a tiny sliver of your heart back, but I am going to hold onto it with everything I have. You want a ring? I’ll get you a ring. More necklaces? I’ll buy them all.” He paused. “Being without you was like being without my best friend. I don’t want to go back to that.”
Her vision blurred. Could this truly be happening? He’d made a mistake that day, a humongous mistake, but so had she. If she hadn’t acted so rashly and jumped the first flight out of there—or perhaps left him a note—she might have saved herself countless night of misery.
“Would you really have come for me?” she found herself whispering.
“Without a second thought.” His voice held no hint of doubt. “I will never forgive myself for missing your little clue.”
She offered him a tentative smile, when what she really wanted to do was laugh till she cried.
Lifting her hand to the side of his face, she stroked her thumb over his cheek. “Ask me again when we’ve won Phase Nine.”
Continue on for an excerpt of Demon Possession (Shadow Quest Book 1)
Originally published in the Mammoth Book of Futuristic Romance anthology, this short story gives a glimpse into the world of Kiersten Fay’s Shadow Quest series; a series of full length novels available now.
More books by Kiersten Fay:
Demon Possession
Shadow Quest Book 1
Demon Slave
Shadow Quest Book 2
Demon Retribution
Shadow Quest Book 3
Demon Untamed
Shadow Quest Book 4
Demon Possession
(Shadow Quest Book 1)
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Analia crouched in the shadows of the docking bay—shaking with fear, anticipation—hidden behind a large pile of cargo. Heavy adrenaline coursed through her body. Damp blond curls tangled around her face, falling toward her ragged excuse for clothing and dirty bare feet. She struggled to steady her breathing, afraid someone would hear her. Her body threatened to collapse under the weight of the ship's artificial gravity, as fatigue began to set in.
The sounds of the ship, like a living thing, enveloped her. Embracing her both as an old friend, and hated foe.
Soon she would be free.
She hoped.
It was the only thing that drove her on.
She’d known a merchant ship would be docking today. Two or three ships were scheduled every few days, in order to maintain a variety of stock. In space, no two ships offered the same supplies, which meant many ships were often commissioned simultaneously.
She watched with frustration as the blond guard stood sentinel mere feet from her. She mentally retraced her steps, hoping she hadn't left evidence of her spontaneous and unplanned escape.
As usual, she'd been in the middle of a punishment. Locked in a room for two weeks—no food and little water—with another week of the same to look forward to. The punishment had been the result of trying, and failing, again, to refuse Darius' advances.
Captain Darius of the Extarga, a.k.a the Hell Ship, had become full of rage at her continued resistance and ordered her locked away until she could accept her lot…accept him. Something she would never do.
She could never give her heart, body, or soul to someone like Darius. He was heartless and brutal.
As she had crouched on the floor, a man entered her cell. She'd seen him before. He'd tended to her many times. Each time, she'd attempted a conversation, with no reciprocation.
She couldn’t fault him, though. Darius strove to keep her isolated on Extarga, hidden away from most of the crew. Those few who had come into her presence—to bring her food or a fresh change of clothes—were ordered not to speak with her, or be disciplined. None had risked themselves for her conversation. Not that she didn't continue to try.
“How is your day?” she would say to whoever had been sent to her room. It was a phrase she'd heard before, through stolen moments from the ship's surveillance. “What is your name?” she would ask, hopeful for a response.
When they ignored her, she would only continue as if the conversation were two sided instead of one, telling them anything that popped into her head: her thoughts of whatever room she was in at the time or how she missed the view of space. She hadn't been allowed to see it in decades.
She drew some satisfaction from the one sided conversation, if only a little. It always meant something to her when they lingered slightly, as though they were listening.
But in that moment she hadn’t been interested in conversation, eyeing the scraps of food the man had brought for her. Scraps of food not even fit for an animal, but she'd take it. She was growing thin from hunger.
Though he hadn't said a word, he had watched her as she ravaged the scraps. The first bit of food she'd eaten in a week and it was not enough to fill her belly. She'd barely tasted it, which, by the looks of it, wasn't a bad thing.
After she finished, she looked up at the man, surprised he was still there. There was something in his expression she had never seen before. Was it sorrow? Shame? Did he pity her? Probably. Who wouldn't?
She’d wondered what she must look like, unwashed and wearing a tattered dress. Her feet were bare, her nails were dirty and bitten, and her hair hadn't been brushed in some time.
When the man turned to leave the room, he hadn't left as normal: by closing the door tight and double checking that it was locked. Instead, he opened the door wide and withdrew in a rush. Without even a backward glance, he allowed the heavy door to fall closed from its own weight.
Analia didn't know what had compelled her to act in that moment, just that she had. Rushing forward, she inserted her fingers in the doorframe, just before it shut her in. She stifled a scream when the heavy door came crashing down on her.
Grinding her teeth, she resisted the urge to cradle her hand and waited.
One heartbeat. Two. Three. Her breath was labored. The first rush of adrenaline entered her system, followed by the spark of an idea. Her heart began to race at the possibilities.
Think. What do I do now?
Then she'd remembered that several merchant ships were scheduled to dock. Perhaps…if she were lucky. If she could only make it to the docking bay. If a ship was even there, it was possible she could escape Extarga.
That's a lot of ifs.
She thought of the consequences if she went through with this and failed. A stream of h
orrific images entered her mind. She would suffer for days, weeks, maybe longer if she was caught. Never had she done anything so bold as to try to escape.
But if she didn't at least try, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life, no matter the consequences. There may never be an opportunity like this again.
Hope flooded her, made her feel light. The idea of freedom, a better life, possibly being within her reach was a heady thought.
What if I do get free and it's worse out there?
The idea spread through her like a poison. If she did escape, and found herself on a merchant ship, what if the people on board were worse than Darius?
She pushed the thought from her mind. It couldn't be possible. Could it? Dark images swirled in her mind, picking at her resolve.
Or, what if they found out about her gift? Perhaps her unusual pointed ears were a clear sign of what she was, even if she didn’t know.
Maybe under different circumstances she would have embraced her ability, but for so long she’d suffered because of it and only wished it gone. Unfortunately, as far as she knew, that was impossible. It was a part of her, through and through, blood to bone. And it was the reason Darius kept her as isolated as he did. To him she was just an object. A piece of machinery.
It could be her gift was a normal trait of her people. If so, it was the only connection she had to them. She had no idea what she was or where she came from. No memory of her people. She’d been but a child when Darius had claimed her.
Analia knew what awaited her here on the Hell Ship—a lifetime of suffering until Darius siphoned every last drop of her will in his attempt to break her. Eventually he would succeed.
When she was sure the hallway was empty, she braved a peek. Then she prayed for the luck of the gods and eased the door shut till she heard the soft click of the lock move into place. Any decision she might have made to turn back disintegrated in that moment.
She glided through the corridors, toward the docking bay. Her bare feet made little noise as she went. She knew this ship better than anyone. She knew it better than Darius himself.
When Darius hooked her up to the ship, Analia had the ability to tap into the ship's heavy surveillance system. It was as though the images from the cameras were displayed directly into her mind, and she could see everything all at once. As far as she could tell, it was the only real benefit of her gift.
Though it wasn’t much of a trade off, considering the pain of being hooked up to the ship was nearly blinding. The sensation of her energy being drawn out of her body and into the ship’s power storage system was agony. To take her mind off it, she watched the crew through the cameras, envying their freedom.
It was her only joy, but right now it was her greatest enemy.
Making her way to a small control panel, she went to work infiltrating the system. For once, her ability would benefit her.
As she hooked herself up to the ship, she felt the moment she became part of it, like one colossal machine working in unison.
Analia shook her head and frowned in disgust. She really was a piece of equipment.
Everything in the ship’s database was her playground. Every piece of information, every secret, and every code belonged to her. If Darius ever found out about the extent of her ability, he would surely use her to spy on his crew. There were not many under Darius' command who spoke highly of him in private conversation.
With the ship at her command, she proceeded, first, to clear an easy path to the docking bay by unlocking any door that might be sealed, and checked to see if any crew members would be in her way. After ensuring a straight path, she erased two solid weeks of recorded surveillance. Then she shut it down completely and locked the system, changing the codes before continuing toward the docking bay.
The system was only checked once every few months, and anything recorded was only viewed when there was a discrepancy. No one would think to check it until long after she'd gone. If they wanted in, they were going to have to hack the system in order to gain access. And because she was the system, she knew they would have a hell of a time of it.
Only once, as she carefully traversed the maze of passageways, did she come across trouble—a couple crew members, advancing toward her. She heard them before she saw them. They walked confident and loud, boots thudding on the hard shiny floor.
Dread engulfed her, almost overtaking her senses. After a moment of panic, she was able to calm her emotions, knowing she needed to find a place to hide. The voices were close, laughing and talking with ease. Just before they entered the corridor, she dove for a door to her right.
Inside, the room was small and dark like a closet, but empty and unused. Her body had begun to tremble with worry; her hands were the worst, shaking uncontrollably. Opening, closing, and rubbing them, she tried to relieve the tremors.
The voices became loud, just outside the door. She froze. Her breathing stopped. Only when the voices and footsteps continued past the door did her body relax.
She was tired, so tired.
The couple of weeks without food had greatly weakened her. And she had slept badly on the cold iron floor, sometimes only falling asleep when exhaustion overruled the chill in her bones.
She pushed into the now empty corridor and continued with caution. The hallways remained quiet.
The path she had hacked allowed doors to open at her approach. With each threshold, her anxiety was reborn. Each hallway was like a repetition of the first. There was nothing distinguishing, nothing but grey walls illuminated by dim overhead lights.
With her nerves grated, she had finally made it to the docking bay.
A merchant ship was indeed docked, both ships connected and open to each other. She'd almost cried out with a surge of an unfamiliar mixture of emotions.
Joy. Relief. Anticipation.
That is, until she’d spotted the blond guard blocking her path. A large, strong looking male, a bored scowl etched in his features. Spiky blond hair framed his face and a black short sleeved shirt revealed his muscular arms and chest. Black pants and a pair of black boots covered his lower half. He leaned against the wall of the ship, wearing an aura of danger. Like he could rip you apart with his bare hands, while maintaining that look of boredom.
Luckily, he hadn't seen her. She was already halfway hidden behind large piles of cargo. The stack of boxes towered high enough to hide a body three times her size. She had to hold her nose to contain a building sneeze as she caught a whiff of spices.
She didn't know how long she remained in her semi-hidden position, but the time dragged. Any minute now, the docking bay would be flooded with workers, sent to gather the goods. She could only wait and hope for an opportunity, the perfect moment when no one was watching so she could hide herself away on the merchant ship. She prayed for a distraction.
The docking bay was a huge room. The ceiling stretched high overhead, and the walls were covered in white. Three floors tiered around the great round room. Massive machines used for lifting heavy cargo loomed above her, bolted to the thick retaining walls. No one was currently manning them.
Usually a slave or two was brought with each delivery, though she didn't see any this time. Darius liked to acquire things, people included. Although most of the crew were free, many were slaves, mostly women. And though they were treated just as poorly, they were rarely kept as isolated as she was.
Each crew member, slave or not, had two things in common. First, they were all handpicked by Darius, selected for their great strength, knowledge, or beauty. He demanded only the best at his command. Second, they feared their leader.
When he wasn't punishing Analia for some perceived infraction, he often forced her to watch as someone else suffered. In order, she suspected, to frighten her into submission. It worked.
She was once forced to witness a group being disciplined. One of the men had been condemned to death. The other three were ordered to take his life or die themselves.
Analia never learned what the
y did to deserve such a punishment. They were given no weapons to carry out the act. Horror struck, she watched as they pounded at the condemned man with only hands and feet to save their own lives. If she didn't watch, if she’d closed her eyes, then she would be on the receiving end of her own punishment.
She shook the memory away. This was her first real attempt at escape. She'd thought of it many times before, dreamt of what it would be like to be in possession of her own life. To do what she wanted when she wanted. Oh, how she craved freedom. To think, act, and speak with no fear of consequence. No one forcing her to use her ability until her body, drained of almost all its essence, gave out in exhaustion. No man to encroach on her body, when she hadn't the energy to fight him off. She shook her head.
Focus.
She peeked from behind her hiding spot. The guard was still there, blocking her escape. He hadn't moved from his position since she last chanced a look. She'd never seen the man before, which meant he was a member of the merchant ship, and was standing there for the sole purpose of keeping people, such as her, from trespassing.
Her plan had been simple, well…in theory. She planned to sneak onto the merchant ship, hide until it next docked, and then sneak off the ship, disappearing forever from Darius' reach. Easy, right?
She just needed a little more luck, just a little to get her on that ship, one step closer to freedom. She deserved it, dammit! How much more should she be made to suffer? How much more could she take?
“Calic!” a male voice shouted.
Analia jumped at the sound. She peeked to see the guard's attention diverted to something inside the other ship.
“What?” the blond guard snapped.
“The last load is stuck!” the other voice yelled. “We can't get it through the doorway! It won't fit!”