Mark of the Fallen: A Fallen Novel

by Jones, Tanisha

  "Come for me,” he whispered against her heated skin. "I'm waiting for you to come for me,” he said in that lilting language, his mouth searing and sweet with the taste of her blood. She was just about to come apart, her heart racing as the slow burn began.

  ***

  "Hey, Ce." She was being shaken by strong hands, her head bouncing on the mattress. She rolled onto her side, away from the bastard who had the nerve to wake her from the most delicious dream. If she were lucky, she would get back and finish the best orgasm she’d ever had. Real or not, she could feel the damp of her panties against her skin, the teeth in the flesh at her neck and the massive swollen cock filling her.

  "Wake up." The shaking became harder, more persistent, and she growled, slapping away the person ruining the best dream she'd had in centuries. Hell, it was the first dream she had, in she couldn't even remember how long, that hadn't devolved into a nightmare. And now she was being rudely interrupted by this person who seemed to want to punish her for some reason. He pulled the covers off of her and tossed them in a pile on the floor.

  "Out of bed, Princess, " he said and she groaned, pulling a pillow over her head to shield her eyes to the increasingly bright sunlight being forced upon her. He sighed and pulled the pillow away, tossing it into a chair, before he continued throwing open the heavy burgundy curtains.

  Shielding her eyes, she saw the slim but muscular frame of Remy Kent as he moved around the room with a grim determination that she usually adored but now she wanted to kick him. The sunlight picked up the flecks of gold in the gilded wallpaper casting a cheery summer glow across the much too large bedroom.

  When he was done, he turned, his hands on narrow hips, his hair standing on end in a shock of dark curls that pointed in every direction. Remy, the youngest of her adopted siblings was at times her best friend and others her worst enemy. Today, it seemed, he had chosen enemy. She lay flat on the mattress exhaling as she stared at the ceiling, the reflection from the pool downstairs casting strange shapes that danced like shimmering water above her. She sighed heavily as the last twinge of lust seeped out of her and she lay frustrated and more than a little annoyed. This, she thought, was why she rarely slept at the family home. She preferred the solitude of her penthouse in New Orleans. At least there she could have a wet dream in peace.

  She rolled onto her side before, sliding her legs over the edge of the bed, where her toes dangled mid-air for a moment before they sank into the deep, plush snowy white carpet. She stared at Remy for a second, standing backlit by the early July sun, his arms folded across his chest.

  "You had better have a helluva good reason for coming in here like this. I was -"

  "Having one monster of a sex dream when I came in. I know. It was pretty sexy to watch. The writhing and moaning, got me a little hard, I must admit. I can still smell it on you," he said, slinking closer to the bed. She noticed it as well, the scent of spice and fresh male mingling with her own natural scent of lavender that always floated on her skin. She buried her face in her shirt inhaling the scent, burning it into her senses. Remy bit his lip and started making soft purring sounds, running his hands along his chest. "So fucking sexy," he leered.

  And now this, she thought. Perfect.

  "You are a horrible human being." There were days when he thought of her as a sister, and then there were days like this when Remy was, well, Remy. His older siblings, Gaston and Lisette saw her as their sister, in every sense of the word, Remy had never been so inclined. They shared no bloodline and he was well aware of it. He had made it clear that if she ever had an itch, he was more than willing to enthusiastically scratch it. Over the years, he'd been forced to curb his rather inappropriate advances toward a woman the outside world only knew as his little sister. In public he obliged, but in private it was no holds barred. In Remy's world nothing was taboo.

  He came to sit next to her on the bed, one strong hand moving up her exposed calf, feeling the smooth skin with practiced ease. Slapping his hand away and pulled at the hem of the plain white t-shirt and bright green Tulane University gym shorts she had chosen as bed clothes.

  "Well then I guess it's a good thing I'm not human." He leaned back on his elbows and stared at her.

  "Not now, Remy," she grumbled, drawing her legs away from him. Her thick dark hair rested over one shoulder in a tangled matted mess, her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she inspected her ‘brother’.

  His skin glowed like burnished bronze, his dark hair was a little too long, curling at the collar of his shirt. She watched as brown eyes shifted to deep green, then amber, his face relaxing. Remy was a pretty man, with soft, almost delicate features. He was sort of androgynous in some ways, with full pouty lips and high cheekbones, a straight Moorish nose and eyes that were gently slanted upward. He moved with the grace and elegance of an animal. She had known him long enough to know that his easy grace and sexuality were disarmingly dangerous. It was part of who he was, of what he was, a hybrid. Remy was a shape shifting Dhampir, giving him more animalistic tendencies. His brother and sister were pure Dhampir; vampire-human hybrids or day-walkers. His mother, Jonas Kent's second wife, was a special breed of shifter, an element of nature that was so pure that Remy was an even more complex entity.

  "Why are you in uniform?" she asked, eying the deep grey button up and darker grey slacks. His shoes were shiny and black, polished until she could see her reflection staring back at her. The uniform of the Grey made him look like a 1950’s communist, especially without the jacket. This was not normal. Remy was a skinny jeans and t-shift shirt kind of guy.

  "That's why I came to get you. The Collective has convened. Your presence is requested, Commander."

  ***

  She stood in the shower, letting the heated mist wash over her. She closed her eyes and was immediately bombarded by images of neon blue eyes and soft lips. Her heated skin tingled and her nipples tightened at the memory of strong hands stroking her in the dark.

  "No, you don't." She turned the hot water off and yelped when the spray turned icy. No time for daydreams, she had work to do. She quickly washed and dried herself, stepping into the artificial heat of the bathroom to dress in her own uniform. As Commander of the Grey, she wore a slightly modified version of Remy's uniform. She slipped on her plain white bra and panties before sliding slate grey leather slacks over her muscular thighs. Remy wandered into the dressing room and slouched against a wall, watching her fasten pants that hugged her ample curves and molding to her long shapely legs. Tucking a fitted camisole into her pants, she searched for her uniform shirt and coat. She spotted the gunmetal silk top hanging on the wall that housed what had to be the entire spring collection of Jimmy Choo shoes.

  "What's taking so long?" Remy grumbled, his eyes roaming the room. He was always a bit taken aback by the size of her dressing room and the sheer volume of clothing it housed. More than once he’d joked that there was probably a small village hidden in the folds of gowns at the back wall.

  "I'm hurrying." She mumbled before turning to the mirror to deal with the issue of her hair. She leaned forward, letting the black silk curtain of hair fall forward so that she could comb out the tangles, before securing it in a ponytail, which was neatly plaited and twisted into a bun. Remy's eyes landed on the mark that peeked out at him at the nape of her neck. He moved forward, brushing aside the curls that framed the dark red tattoo at the base of her skull and stared. It was a delicate and intricate design of a heart encircled by tribal wings that sprouted on either side. She had been branded with it years ago, but had no idea what it meant let alone the when, why or even how she ended up with it.

  "What's wrong with your tat?" Remy brushed aside the curls to get a better look at the irritated flesh. "It's all red," Remy said. It wasn't just red; it seemed to pulsate with a dull red glow.

  She reached up and touched the slightly raised area wincing when her nails moved along the mark. It was tender and hot, like she had been burned or better yet, as if she'd been branded.
>
  "I don't know. I must have scratched it when I was combing my hair. It’s fine," she said. Or maybe she really was branded by her dream lover. She quickly slipped on the silk shirt buttoning it with a rapid ease that would have been unnerving if Remy hadn't known who she was. She slipped into knee high leather boots and reached for her gunmetal trench before heading out of the dressing room. She stared at her face in the mirror and smiled a little. Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all for a nearly two-thousand year old deity. She turned to face Remy who smiled at her the way he did so often.

  He was totally entranced by her. She had a glow about her and with her face scrubbed clean she didn't look a day over nineteen, maybe twenty. Her eyes were a startling blue, not really blue, more turquoise, with thick, long lashes, high cheek bones from her Egyptian father, a straight nose from her Greek mother and soft full lips that were all her own.

  "Come on. Do you know if this is business as usual or something else?" He obediently followed her, slipping on his own heavy woolen pea coat as they moved out of the room and down the long and winding hallway that was her wing of the third floor of the massive fortress their father called a home.

  "I think they are adding a new contingent to the Collective. By order of the Council, and you have to be there. They won't make a decision without a full vote," he said and she rolled her eyes and sighed before rounding a corner and walking down another winding hallway. The soft gold paint of the walls made everything in the house feel warm and inviting. The artwork was all original and expensive collected over centuries by their father Jonas Kent. She absently touched the tattoo again before her mind wandered to the Collective and her work there.

  The house was enormous, decorated in French Baroque style, everything in deep reds and rich golds, the grand stair case was right out of a palace, complete with hand carved marble banisters. The house itself had been moved stone by stone to Louisiana when the Kents had relocated from a France what felt like a million years ago.

  Remy matched her step for step as they marched across the marble floors, the click of heavy heeled boots making a staccato rhythm that echoed through the cavernous hallways. He glanced at her. She was tall, six feet in her stocking feet; the heel on her boots gave her another three inches. But she seemed delicate, with all of that power radiating from her; there was a vulnerability to her, a softness that made him want to protect her. Shaking off the thought, he looked at her uniform then at his own. She made the drab grey look sexy; hell she looked like a fucking superhero, making him her sidekick.

  "Why do you get to be all bad-ass in the leather?" Remy grumbled.

  "Because," she said with a smirk, "I am a certified bad-ass."

  He smiled. It was true; Celeste was indeed a certified, card carrying, natural born bad ass. One of the most dangerous and sometimes vicious warriors he had ever known, and that was saying a lot. Remy had been a soldier in every war from The Crusades through World War II.

  Watching her in battle was a visceral experience, her brutality was legendary. It was surprising such brutal force and complete savagery could emerge from such a delicate, beautiful package. She had been the only logical choice to lead the Grey, an army of bloodthirsty preternatural creatures. They had slaughtered hundreds, yet they cowered when she approached.

  They moved quickly through the foyer of the mansion towards a small door hidden beneath the stairs. Remy put on his garrison cap and waited until she had slipped leather gloves over her hands and secured her beret before opening the door.

  "Are you going to tell me about the dream?” he asked as he waited.

  "Nope," she said before stepping across the threshold into the awaiting mist.

  He followed closely, pulling the door closed behind them. The mist surrounded them making them queasy as they moved from one plane to the next, traveling through time and space in a blink. She hated using the portals, but it was the fastest and easiest way to the Collective’s compound.

  "Was I in it?" He ventured.

  "Nope," she said, not looking at him.

  "Would you tell me if I were?"

  "Nope," she laughed.

  ***

  The air became colder, light spreading before them as the mist cleared. Their silent footfalls became audible as they stepped on something slick and hard; stone she thought. She shivered, her feet crunching on ice, snow blowing across her face. The compound came into view and she groaned while glancing around. They had moved the entire place again, this time to some frozen tundra.

  The Collective, a paranoid bunch of preternatural beings constantly moved the headquarters making it nearly impossible to track, therefore rendering any plan of attack a non-issue, for the most part anyway. There had been a few spies from the Dark Fae who’d been able to gain access to the fortress, but none since she had been made commander. But as long as there were Dark Fae and treacherous double-dealings, anything was possible. She had learned that in the most horrific way.

  "Norway? Germany?" she asked staring at the keep that was half buried in the side of a snow covered mountain. The bridge that they walked across emerged from the mist, grey and deteriorating, with cobblestones worn smooth with age.

  She looked back to see that everything behind them had fallen off into nothingness. The mountain was dotted with snow and frosted pine trees; the keep surrounded by an ice covered lake. The wind tore through her trench and she wished she'd grabbed the heavy fur lined poncho she had tossed aside. She could see it lying across the chaise in her dressing room, the soft grey mink beckoning her. She exhaled and the poncho appeared, replacing the trench and she sighed, snuggling into the warmth of her collar. Remy rolled his eyes, looking around to try and gauge their location.

  "How did you do that? I can't transport when I'm in the compound,” he mumbled.

  "We're not in the compound yet. Besides, I'm a freakin’ goddess. Does this look like Greenland? Switzerland?"

  "I think we may be in Siberia or on the dark side of the moon,” Remy mumbled, quickening his pace to keep up with her. The cold did not affect him as it did others, being a shifter, his body ran a few degrees hotter than most. Shifters, skin walkers and Lycans were easy to spot because of their elevated heat signature, just as vampires and demons leaned on the colder side. All those between, like Celeste, on the surface, passed as human.

  "I don't guess it matters. I just wish for once they would pick somewhere warm. What do they have against Bali or Tahiti?” She said. "Let's go before they send someone out here to retrieve us." She looked heavenward, trying to get her bearings, before giving up on the endeavor. They were where they needed to be and that was that.

  "Did I even make a cameo?" Remy asked

  "No!" She laughed.

  ***

  The Collective compound, to the naked eye, resembled a ruined turret of a castle, falling stone lying scattered in some isolated place in the world, hidden by the mist. An unassuming memory of times long past. In reality, the ruin was only the entrance into the state-of-the-art stronghold; the majority of the compound ran deep underground.

  They crossed the icy slick cobblestone portico, waiting at the heavy stone gate. Celeste looked up at the camera she could not see, but knew was up above them somewhere. It took a moment and then the heavy doors parted, slowly opening just enough for them to slip inside. She and Remy stepped into a foyer as the doors swung closed behind them and waited for the steel door opposite them to slide open.

  The wall slowly rose, revealing a spiral staircase carved into the wall that led down into the heart of the compound. Celeste stepped down first, a light illuminating each level, Remy following closely behind. The steel door slid closed, and they were sealed into the cylindrical stone walls of the base of the turret.

  When they reached the bottom of the staircase, another heavy metal door greeted them, this one with a retina scanner. She leaned forward and let the electronic eye sweep her face.

  "Good Morning Caelestis, granddaughter of the primordial Nyx, Daughter of the
Goddess of Vengeance Nemesis, Daughter of the God of War Anhur, Goddess of Redemption and Justice, Commander of the Grey," an electronic voice sang before the door slid open. She frowned but made her way into a small alcove, Remy, hot on her heels. She had asked several times to have that changed to Celeste, just Celeste. Or Celeste Keegan Kent, which was the name she went by in the human world. Instead they had uploaded her entire identity into that stupid machine.

  At the next door, Remy pressed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner.

  "Good Morning, Remy de Noe Laurent Kent, House of de Noe, Lieutenant Commander of The Grey." He gave Celeste an apologetic shrug.

  "You have a longer name than I do, Caelestis." Remy said with a slight degree of amusement. She didn't bother with a response. The second door slid open, revealing a long marble corridor lined with pale marble columns and floor to ceiling windows, that opened into a lobby that could be found in any office building anywhere in the world. As they walked towards the guards that manned the lobby, the two men stood quickly saluting as they passed.

  Celeste returned the salute, not really looking at the young men but was immediately struck by the earthy scent of Lycans. She never really noticed the soldiers, only out of necessity. She didn’t want to know the men and women she sent into battle. It was too hard on her when they didn’t return.

  Remy on the other hand, paused, staring at one of the young guards. He was huge, with crisp green eyes, his hair a bright red, a smattering of freckles across a fresh angelic face. The uniform stretched over muscle, the buttons on his shirt straining against the sheer mass of him. Celeste watched Remy take the young man in, closing his eyes to inhale his scent.

  "What is your name soldier?" he asked, his eyes moving down the immensely muscled body. Even for a lycan he was large, but his face was open, innocent. She rolled her eyes and looked away, knowing what was coming next. Remy was going to soil that innocence with his Remy-ness. It was amazing to her how quickly Remy could shift gears. Just moments ago he was watching her ass and flirting with her, now he was all about this soldier. Lust had no limits she supposed.