Illusion

by Dy Loveday

  A flush of heat passed through her body. She should probably stand on her own feet, but having him close brought a rush of tears to her eyes. She blinked hard.

  “Don’t ever take such a risk again. We’ll work this out together, understand? You don’t belong to Molokh, or to the Earth realm.” Thunder rumbled in the background, a sudden counterpoint to his implacable tone. Up close she could see lines of strain around his eyes and mouth.

  She recoiled a bit at his candor. “Are you okay?”

  “I heal fast,” he said. In his jaw a muscle twitched.

  “What if the visions drag me into the Abyss?” She knew he must have seen it in her mind when they had been joined. Her skin flared with shivers and her breath caught in her throat as he walked into the next room.

  “There’s no hiding from Molokh. We’ll face him when the time comes. We belong together. I’d rather be with you than any other. I won’t leave you to battle this on your own. As long as I live I’ll stay with you. And protect you.”

  She eyed the width of his shoulders, knowing he was the best champion she could imagine. What did he see in her? His hair was brushed back from his harsh features, falling to his rigid shoulders, making him look beautiful and foreign at the same time.

  He smiled at her, lighting his tense expression. “No games. Who knows how long we have,” he said gently, right next to her ear. He laid her on her bed. A lustrous light flashed in his pupils. It was the strangest thing, one minute obsidian black and the next glittering silver.

  “None,” she agreed. What else could she say? Tomorrow he’d have more to answer for, but tonight … well, maybe she could focus on pleasure instead of death.

  Maya’s eyelids were heavy as she watched him remove his shirt in the dim light. Thunder rocked the castle, so close it seemed to rattle the bed frame. Her head fell back on the pillows as he joined her on the bed. Patches of white gauze obscured his wounds, and he smelled faintly of herbs and incense.

  The silence stretched out between them. He leaned on one elbow, watching her with dark eyes. Her heart beat too fast in her chest. She resisted the urge to check the rhythm—she knew she shouldn’t trust him, but she needed the closeness she’d felt when they’d crossed the Abyss. Being alone didn’t hold the attraction it used to.

  He touched her face and drew a fingertip down one cheek, her jaw, and neck. She raised a tentative hand to brush his scarred mouth, touching the ridges and bumps and the lush corner of his lip. What changes had come over him in the Abyss? Could a man go through that kind of torture and still remain the same inside? Apart from several bandages, he seemed intact. She tensed at the thought and her hand fell away.

  He stroked her collarbone with the rough pads of his fingers, smoothing the bones and muscles with a soft touch. His jaw looked tight and hard, the muscles in his chest standing out in harsh relief. His gaze followed his hand, touching her breast, fingers spread as he captured the heavy weight, thumbing her nipple.

  “Something happened. I took one of Jhara’s spells…” Her words sounded garbled. She wanted him so much it hurt, but could she trust him?

  “Shhh.” His voice dropped, eyes intent on her body. His gaze met hers—eyes obsidian, bottomless. “Let me touch. I won’t hurt you.”

  She shivered, goose bumps rising on her arms. He bent his dark head and kissed her collarbone. It dawned on her that he was being extra careful. She watched his hand sweep down her ribs, then her belly, his rough calluses rasping. A rush of blood followed his hand, raising tingles on her skin. She sucked in a breath, shaken by the lush burn coursing through her body.

  His lids lifted. “I love your skin, it’s like milk.” His irises were pewter, glowing iridescent in the darkness. “I sense you aching.”

  Her breath hitched, body taut with expectation. His eyes were beautiful, endless black ice glittering back at her.

  “How can you tell?”

  “Because I feel it too. Right here.” His voice was right in her ear, deep and rough. He placed her hand low on his abdomen, just above his pants.

  She imagined his body caging hers and she shifted on the sheets.

  “That’s right. I’m yours,” he said. “Take what you want. But remember. What’s mine, I keep. There’s no turning back. Not for either of us.”

  She hesitated, her hand an inch away from his muscled stomach. Then she brushed past a bandage and touched his skin. A thin layer of sweat and heat chased away her doubts. He sucked in a deep breath as if taking her scent into his lungs. Silver lightning streaked across his eyes.

  His hands fell on her shoulders and blocked out the dim light. He pulled on her bottom lip with his thumb and his mouth followed, sucking gently.

  “Open your mouth.”

  As his tongue slid inside, the wetness hit her between the thighs. She dragged his chest down to hers, gripping him with her nails, trying to get as close as possible to his body. She turned her head, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding her body, thighs clenched together.

  “Let me in.” He gripped her chin, turning her face back to him. His mouth dropped again, tongue circling hers, a rhythmic penetration. The towel unfolded beneath his insistent hand, dropping back on the sheets. His hot palm spread on her sensitive belly, fingers going lower and lower, brushing the apex of her thighs. One finger reached farther, touching her intimately.

  Her body flooded with heat and she moaned, squirming closer, grasping at the hardness beneath his fitted pants. She needed to touch him.

  He dragged her hand away. Holding her wrists in one hand, he pulled them above her head and pressed her back to the bed with his chest. “You’re delicious, perfection.” His fingers returned to her body, opening and probing until he circled a bundle of nerve endings.

  She cried out, body lifting from the sheets as if hit by lightning. Her body tightened under the fickle pressure. She twisted, angling her head and capturing his hard mouth with hers.

  His tongue speared inside, wet and hot.

  “Resheph.” The door hammered beneath an insistent fist, breaking through the thickness in Maya’s head. “You’re in there; I can sense you. Resheph.”

  “By all the gods,” Resh cursed, burying his head in her neck, breathing hard. His hand cupped her possessively. “Go away, Esmonda. We’ll speak tomorrow.”

  “Now, brother. I need to see you. It’s urgent.”

  Maya stiffened, horrified the sorceress would materialize in the bedroom.

  Something hard hit the door, cracking the wood, allowing patches of light to break through.

  “Touch that door again and I’ll teleport you to Tau,” Resh bellowed, eyes flashing with rage in the dim light.

  A short silence. “Well, come out then.” Esmonda’s voice softened. “Please.”

  “Go. Before she barges in here and finds us like this,” Maya said. A vivid picture of her bare ass scuttling under the covers flashed through her mind.

  “Curse the bitch.” Resh brushed her cheek softly. “I’ll be back.”

  Would he? The thought rushed at her as she buried her head in the pillow. He hesitated for a moment, then braced himself on one arm—a wall of muscle leaning over her body.

  When he started to move, she put a hand on his thigh.

  “She wanted me dead.”

  He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest, and grasped her chin, tugged until she faced him. “I’ll settle the challenge,” he murmured against her mouth. “It must be important. She wouldn’t dare interrupt otherwise. Watch your thoughts around Esmonda. She’s a telepath.” His eyes gleamed silver. The calm voice was at odds with the flash of cruelty shifting over his expression. It freaked her out. This was definitely something new. His eye color had changed, while the lines on his face … she couldn’t think what they meant. Like something else existed just under the surface, waiting to break out.

  He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit gently, then released it with a soft pop of sound. They measured one another in silence. She willed herself
to look serene and meet his penetrating gaze. He gave her one last lingering kiss before he moved away. The bed shifted under his weight as he rose. She turned to face the wall, and heard a rustle of clothes, but didn’t watch.

  “Don’t go anywhere. Please.” His hand trailed along her neck and sent hot shivers down her spine. “Try to sleep for a while. We don’t know how much rest you’ll get over the next few days.”

  She didn’t hear him walk across the floor, but his shadow flickered on the bedroom wall. Was he faster as well? The door opened with a whisper of sound and bathed a slice of the bed with light. It closed, leaving her alone. The faint sound of voices faded. She exhaled slowly.

  Was she afraid of him? Maybe that was a good thing. It might keep her sensible for a while. Maya lay there, tried to even her breathing, count sheep. The vacant side of the bed was cold, and the chill seeped into her body.

  Her father had also left her with a drug-addicted whore who’d sold a child to feed her habit.

  She started to laugh and heard the sharp edge of hysteria in her voice. When the laughter turned to sobs, she muffled her mouth in the pillow so the castle couldn’t hear.

  She let her anger with life bleed out, along with a torrent of tears. Jane had only wanted to be her friend and look where it had gotten her. Like the grimoire said, the daughter of Molokh brought disaster wherever she went.

  Resh had to feel sorry for her. There was no way she was his equal—in magic or in self-respect. No one could possibly want a spell-addicted hybrid. She hesitated, holding her breath. Maybe it was time to do something about it.

  *

  Any residual pleasure Resh felt dwindled when he faced his half-sister.

  “This couldn’t wait?” Resh asked, impatient with Esmonda’s doe-eyed expression. She used her innocence as a weapon, but it had no effect on him, hadn’t since he’d realized what she’d done to their father.

  “Aseroth left earlier than expected. I’m to tell you the ships engage the Khereb off the coast. War has come to Balkaith, brother. Let the demons have her.” Her catlike eyes reflected light, and her long black hair was plaited in intricate weaves, bound with pink blossom crystals that matched her pouting lips.

  Two warlocks cast them side-glances as they drifted past in the hallway. Resh gripped Esmonda’s arm and turned her to face a long seaward window. “Lower your voice. What are you talking about?” Aseroth would never have shared information with Esmonda. Why didn’t she just say what she’d come to say, instead of wasting his time with games?

  “You can’t expect the entire city to suffer because of one woman. We’re not reliving the histories. Ancient Troy is dead and gone,” she said, turning to face him. “If the hunters want Maya, let them have her.”

  She had to be guessing. If she knew about Maya’s heritage she wouldn’t remark on it now. She’d use it to win power and influence in the fortress.

  “The grimoire said the Khereb would come, Esmonda. Why give her up when her powers might help us? The Tribune sent me to Earth to find out what she can do. You know all this. What do you really want?”

  “She’s evil. I saw the dagger she tried to keep hidden.” She lifted bright eyes to his face, leveled a merciless glare. “I know you blame me for our father’s death, but you never knew the whole truth. Perhaps now you’ll listen.”

  He hit the carved windowpane with the flat of his hand. “You decide to bring this up now? Why the sudden interest?” His voice was so cold he was surprised it didn’t freeze the air between them. Several warlocks gathered at the end of the hall and watched them. One wore the flowing cloak of a Tribune member. Resh glared at them, and they lowered their heads and muttered among themselves.

  “Because I thought I’d lost you. We didn’t share a childhood, yet we claim the same blood. I don’t have any family left.”

  “Go to bed.” He half turned. She should have thought of that before she’d dispatched their parent.

  “She’ll be a weakness, a load around your neck that you can’t afford right now. You’ll end up dead, rotting at her feet. But if you insist on keeping her, then your consort needs help.”

  He hesitated. “You want her dead. The Tribune were prepared to let you have your way.”

  “Who else can ready her for what lies ahead? Train her in our ways? Not Clarice, so old and barren from years of service to her auras and crystals. The skinny runt will struggle beneath the weight of expectations. Perhaps you remember your first time at Balkaith? How helpless you felt until you mastered your powers—could match the others in strength and gain their respect?”

  His shoulders stiffened, and he turned, facing her. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  She watched him, her beautiful face wearing a shrewd expression.

  Sharing blood with her had never sat well with him. Her malicious words and quixotic nature had caused more havoc in the castle than any horde of witches. The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “You had the luxury of our father’s attention until his death. Your mother might have died, but you’ve had ample opportunity to reach out to me. Why now?”

  “I want things to change between us. If you’re set on protecting the girl, then I offer assistance.”

  “Esmonda, your assistance is poison. One never knows when it will take you down, but you can expect to be killed eventually.” She’d been trained well in the art of politicking and scheming and might help them deal with the witches of Tau. Maybe he could leave her with them—her love of death would have her fitting in well with the coven.

  Her mouth turned up into a lazy parody of a smile. “You need my help, Resheph. I have my talents and I offer them to you, without strings. I know where they went tonight. That idiot, Alexandr, left spools of magic that a novice could trace.” She watched for a response, smiling at his raised eyebrow. “The Khereb hunt something, and I suspect they chase your human. Why else would they storm Balkaith after so long? And how did they cross the threshold between the living and dead? I’m not the only one coming to these conclusions.”

  Thunder rocked the castle slightly, and Resheph glanced up, frowning.

  Excited chatter came from the end of the hall. The Tribune adept pressed his hand against the glass and then pointed at something.

  “They’ll raze this place looking for her, and you know it. Many will die. Can you live with that on your conscience, noble brother?”

  “The Order’s legions will protect the city.” Her words mirrored the worry gnawing at him since he’d rejoined his body in Balkaith and realized the Khereb had arrived through Maya’s journal.

  Esmonda laughed. “There isn’t much worse than the Khereb, brother. Word has spread and the sects clamor for answers. You need to place the girl in a guild before there is bloodshed.”

  She had a point. He sighed, feeling exhausted by the weight of the path ahead. Three sets of hands would be stronger than two. Clarice would have been a better choice, but he needed her to travel to Nephthys.

  “Go find Alexandr. Tell him we leave at dawn. Prepare yourself for hard travel.”

  A hint of self-satisfaction drifted over her face as she turned, ruby overtunic fluttering like autumn leaves.

  “And Esmonda.”

  She stilled, back as straight as an arrow.

  “Give me trouble or betray us and I’ll kill you myself.”

  Their father had less warning than that. Even if the statesman had been a despicable bastard, he hadn’t deserved to be poisoned by his own child. Thank the gods they didn’t share a mother as well.

  “Recant your challenge and refrain from calling Maya foul names. A permanent scar around your neck would ruin your necklines.”

  An alarm sounded, closely followed by the boom of cannon fire. There was a brief silence, filled with Esmonda’s bitter chuckle, while the warlocks moved into action, running in separate directions at the T-junction.

  Resheph pounded down the main staircase to the Guilds Hall. He didn’t trust her. They’d never com
e to terms with their shared past, but she might help unravel the future. Either way, her ability to invade others’ thoughts would come in handy. Resheph arrived at the headquarters of his Order. As the tenets required, he would need leave of absence from his guild. General Markuth would intercede with the Tribune, ensure they had permission to leave the city. Alexandr would also exercise whatever power he had left with the Tribune.

  Warlocks blinked in and out of existence around him, entering the various Guild lodgings protected by sigils and heavily carved doors. Servants scuttled about, carrying platters of food and drink. The next few hours would be filled with military planning and tactical warfare against the Khereb. The leaders would meet and vote on the counteroffensive.

  He’d served this city for years, during long stretches of war. While the Khereb had a presence in the realm, the Order would establish war camps and patrol the mountains and coast. Aseroth had already stepped up to command his unit. Most of the realm’s forces would be employed to fight the enemy.

  Regardless of the war, he’d just have to convince Markuth that the answers to ridding them of the Khereb lay in the Empire’s interior. In the meantime, Maya’s powers would reveal themselves. Her connection with Molokh would save or destroy them all.

  The thunder above the castle drowned out the noise of running feet. People were starting to panic.

  He reached for the doorknob, thoughts on Molokh. The demon lord might want his daughter, but entry to the physical realms was his ultimate goal. Resheph would just have to ensure Maya remained on their side—and with a lot of luck, she’d keep her soul.

  He stepped through the doorway.

  Markuth stood, his face thunderous and his white hair standing on end from endless spearing with his hand. “You were supposed to kill the girl.”

  He bowed to his general. “When have I ever asked for anything? She wears my ward and is under my protection.”

  “You’re a fool. The reality warper owes no allegiance except to herself. You could have made general. Get her out of the city before there is a guild war.”

  Resheph nodded. “A Circle of Eight to summon the Enim warriors—in Tau,” he said in a hard voice. “If someone can get word to the magi…” Markuth shook his head in denial. “It’s the only way. I’ll lead a small group through the interior and await the races in Tau.”