Stolas: A Dark Soul Series Novel

by Randi Cooley Wilson

  Strangely, disdain plays across his features, but it’s not for me.

  “Do you play?” I purse my lips, waiting for his response.

  It’s an odd question, but one that I felt was safe.

  His intense focus causes me to contemplate his hands. They’re covered in smudges of black. The desire to reach out and caress his fingers to see if he exists is almost overpowering. I swallow, even though my throat and lips are completely dry.

  “Are you real?” I barely manage on a quiet exhale.

  “No,” a deep, enthralling voice answers.

  At the sound of his voice, my gaze snaps back to his. “No—you aren’t real?”

  “No, I don’t play. Yes, I am real.”

  The electricity sizzling between us is palpable.

  A loud crack from the fireplace echoes throughout the room, causing me to jump.

  “Are you afraid?” he asks in a murmur.

  I feel like his question goes deeper than our immediate surroundings. “No. Are you?”

  A small smile plays at his lips. “Terrified,” he whispers.

  I can’t help but smile at the oddity of our conversation. Needing something to do with my hands, I reach out and caress the ivory keys in front of us.

  “Why are you sitting at a baby grand piano, if you don’t play?”

  “I was waiting.” I must look confused because he adds, “For you.”

  My neck cranes as I look at him. “Me?”

  He leans in closer, until his breath is fanning my face. “You.”

  “Why didn’t you just speak to me earlier?” I inquire, curling into him.

  His eyebrows curve up as he offers a you’re cute expression. “You needed to come to me of your own free will. I wouldn’t want to enthrall you. It has to be your choice.”

  Confused by his answer, I scan his tight expression. I don’t understand why, but I’m no longer afraid of him. I lean in, our faces so close I can feel the heat radiating from his perfect skin. “Then it would seem as though I’ve chosen you. Of my own free will.”

  Another round of lightning flares across the sky, bringing with it loud booms of thunder. With each shrill blast, the air rumbles furiously, as if it’s weeping and mourning.

  Snow begins to fall in large, fluffy flakes, floating elegantly from the sky.

  “So you have,” he replies obscurely, looking like a cornered animal.

  My heart stops beating again. I thought he was terrifying before, but this on-edge version of him makes him even more so. A tremor of fear creeps back into my veins.

  His muscles twitch and flex in anger as he studies something over my head. “I love when your kind thinks they’re on the same level as us,” he says smugly, but not to me.

  The rage growing behind his eyes is so intense, I can feel it rolling off him in waves.

  My instincts tell me not to turn and see what has made him so angry, or who he is talking to. Without thought, I place my hand on his wrist, where his pulse is beating wildly.

  “I’m Hope.” My tone is unflinching.

  His entire body sags in some weird form of defeat.

  My voice—or maybe it’s my touch—penetrates through whatever shadows haunt him.

  Slowly, I bring my fingers to the crown tattoo on his forearm, allowing my finger to trace the design and the writing etched on it. He doesn’t stop my forwardness.

  “Hope Annandale,” I continue, trying to calm him.

  At my caress, he swallows hard and I swear I feel him shiver.

  Peering at him from under my lashes, something unexplainable passes between us, as our eyes lock. “Your tattoo has Stolas scripted on it. Is that who you are?” I ask quietly.

  His silence stretches out, before his soft, silken voice answers, “Stolas is a pretense I wear. Beneath the mask, I’m Stone.”

  “Stone,” I repeat in a soft murmur.

  His words cause me to relax. I slow down my breathing and close my eyes for the briefest of moments. When I open them, Stone has disappeared, leaving me lost and confused.

  Stone

  My fate has always been sealed, but this may just be the first time I want to embrace it. Opening her bedroom door, I’m careful not to wake her. Hope’s sleeping form doesn’t turn toward me, or even acknowledge my presence. The blanket cocoons her body in the warmth of the bed, as I hover over her agitated frame, which is curled into her pillow.

  She’s whimpering, in a distressed and frantic state, crying out in her sleep. I place my palm over her forehead and whisper in Italian for her to rest without fright. Almost instantly, her body settles and calms as her face transforms into a peaceful expression.

  I take in the room that’s currently her world; something a small part of me desperately wants to become a part of. Ever since she laid her hand on my brand, my world has been turned upside down. Never did I expect anything like what happened tonight. Each of our brief encounters has been from a distance. Watching. Studying. Assessing each other.

  Tonight, I assumed she’d simply turn and run the other way. Most oracles in her position would have, the second they sensed the darkness. Not her, though. Without thinking twice, she approached me—almost as if she was tempted by the shadows.

  Then, without fear, she sat herself next to the prince of darkness. All I know is that she set my nerves on fire, to the point I couldn’t think straight. The way she spoke to me, inhaled me. And Christ, when she touched my crown tattoo, I felt it tug at my soul.

  Tendrils grew and spread around us like wildfire, bonding us to each other. She chose our side, causing a now permanent goddamn ache to form within my core. Regrettably for Hope, she had no idea she was binding herself to the Circles, or to me, but the divine did. Hence the thunder and lightning show, and Gabriel’s sudden appearance over her shoulder.

  I know she didn’t see him, but I certainly did. And he was pissed.

  As a being created by the divine, the oracle’s word binds her, which means that even though Hope didn’t realize what she was doing by choosing me of her own free will, she now belongs to the dark souls—and my vow to Gabriel must be enforced, which means she is now under my protection. Mine. The weight of our sudden bond had me vanishing from her side at the piano, as it became too much, too soon.

  Dark thoughts loom in the back of my mind as I hover over this mortal. As much as she intrigues me, my frustration with her for trussing me to this self-imposed protection detail is festering. I’m programmed to despise human and divine life, not bind myself to it.

  “I’m the prince of darkness, sweetheart, not a bodyguard,” I whisper into the night, and brush the hair away from her face, wanting to feel her soft skin against my fingers.

  I’d allowed my temper and frustration with the archangel to get the best of me, tethering myself to this oracle. A mortal with a divine soul. One my father wants to use for his own selfish revenge. The dull irony is that I’ve vowed to safeguard her from the one thing I will never be able to protect her from—my own birthright.

  I move away from her, even though it’s the last thing I want to do, and take a seat in the chair facing her bed. I should have made her leave last night, but it doesn’t matter now. I couldn’t stay away from her any longer. Vassago wouldn’t allow it.

  She is my mission.

  She has chosen her fate.

  And I’m bound to save her from the one thing I can’t protect her from—my dark soul.

  The car climbs up the winding mountain road, hidden on both sides by a thick, wintry forest, toward the private modern villa. Minutes later, my driver opens the door and I step onto the expansive lot, taking a moment to admire the snow-covered, park-like gardens.

  The panoramic view of Lake Zurich and the surrounding mountains make it an idyllic and pleasant residence on the Swiss Gold Coast.

  “Thank you, Virgil.” I nod toward my trusted handler and head into the house.

  The stylish home is open and airy. The floor-to-ceiling windows and terraces off each main room al
low guests unfettered access to the lake, mountains, and rich colorful sunsets.

  It’s a stark difference from my home in the Circles.

  The main floor is comprised of an open-concept living area, dining room, and a chef’s dream kitchen, while the upper level contains the master suite, intended to be a separate area from the rest of the house. The suite includes an office with a fireplace, a large bathroom, and separate his and hers dressing areas and closets.

  Four additional bedrooms, all with their own private baths, are located on the lower floor, along with the sauna, fitness area, wine cellar, and various other rooms.

  All three living spaces are connected by an elevator, which opens into the garage, housing Lev’s Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren 999, and Vassago’s Maybach Exelero.

  My boots thud on the dark hardwood floors as I throw my house keys onto the short bookcase separating the dining area from the living. The keys slide and hit one of the three modern lamps providing ambient lighting to the room.

  I enter the living room and come to a stop, under scrutiny from the four beings watching my every move. Each slightly bows their head out of respect before I nod to Vassago, giving him permission to speak freely.

  “Why isn’t the oracle with you?” His voice echoes off the warm white walls.

  “You only said to make contact, not keep it.”

  “She has chosen, yes?”

  “She has a name.” Avi steps between us, defending the mortal.

  At her action, something inside me twists, knowing she has become fond of Hope.

  “Why aren’t you and Lore at Shadowbrook?”

  Avi winks. “The nurses think we’re both in our private therapy sessions.”

  I exhale a long and frustrated breath, before answering Vassago. “Hope has chosen us.”

  Lev grins widely, rubbing his hands together. “Excellent work, Prince Stolas. Now, when can we return to the Circles? All this fresh air and sunshine is giving me a rash.”

  “The environmental elements are not the reason for your rash,” Lore interrupts.

  My best friend levels her with a hard glare. “How was I to know humans carry bacteria that’s transmitted to demons during sexual relations? This is brand new information.”

  “If you weren’t a sexual deviant, it wouldn’t be an issue,” Avi snaps.

  “I’m a demon,” he points to himself. “Sexual deviant comes with the title.”

  “What’s the delay?” Vassago asks, sensing my hesitation to return home.

  I meet each gaze before taking a seat on the white leather couch.

  “We have a complication of the messenger variety.”

  “An archangel?” Lore’s voice is quiet, respectful as always.

  “Gabriel,” I validate.

  Lev’s brows rise to his hairline. “What the hell does he want?”

  “Hope,” I answer. “Apparently, the divine have an interest in this particular oracle.”

  “Their interest is of no matter. The girl has chosen the dark souls. He can’t interfere with her free will,” Vassago points out, as if we don’t all know this information.

  Avi narrows her gaze at me. “It was of her own choosing, right?”

  “Yes. With that said, she doesn’t really know what she was agreeing to.”

  “How is that possible? You didn’t explain it to her?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” she scolds.

  “It’s complicated,” I counter.

  “Everything in the mortal realm is complicated,” Lev whines.

  “Humans are complex. It’s to be expected,” Lore states flatly.

  Avi sits next to me. “It was you she saw last night.”

  I remain quiet, forming my answer. The truth is, I have no idea why I was sitting in the fucking snow, staring at her window like a sullen teenager. My shields had been up, though, and no being, human or other, should have been able to see me. That she did is odd.

  “She had to come to me. It’s the rules. I couldn’t approach her,” I point out. “If I did, the divine could have said I was swaying her. This way, her choice is clean. Unbreakable.”

  “Hope has no idea what she’s even agreed to, Stolas,” Avi growls.

  My focus wanders around the room, landing on Lev for support, which he grants me in the form of a small lift of his chin. Lev and I have been best friends since birth; he knows me better than any being. He also knows there are calculated reasons for the things I do.

  “Why didn’t you reveal yourself to me?” Avi asks, hurt in her tone.

  “Was there a need?” I counter gently.

  Avi has always been like a little sister to me. The last thing I want is for her to be upset at my actions in this mess I’ve unwittingly brought her and the rest into.

  She frowns. “For a slight moment, I really did question her sanity.”

  “I needed Hope intrigued, so she would be drawn to me.”

  “I still do not understand how Gabriel’s interest prevents us from returning to the Circles with the oracle, as we were commanded to do by our king,” Vassago interjects.

  “Gabriel paid me a visit that night in the club, right after you irritated the shit out of me,” I accuse. “The archangel was mouthing off about Tazia. I lost my temper. By doing so, I inadvertently—” I stop myself, knowing what their reactions will be when I tell them.

  “Go on,” Vassago demands, holding onto the last bit of patience he has.

  “I may have vowed to protect Hope if she chose the dark souls,” I push out.

  “Vowed?” Lev repeats, sounding confused. “Vowed—as in, binding yourself to the mortal as her protector?” he asks, dread crossing his expression.

  “Fire and brimstone,” Avi exhales, dramatically. “We are all going to burn for this.”

  “What the hell were you thinking, Stolas?” Vassago roars.

  “I wasn’t. That’s the fucking problem.” Pushing off the couch, I stand to my full height and slide my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. My gaze drops to my boots, unable to look my guards in the eyes. “So, you see, I’m bound to protect Hope’s soul. Therefore, I can’t return her to the Circles, since Lucifer means her soul harm,” I lay out, attempting to hide my annoyance with myself.

  “And we can’t return because we’ve taken an oath to protect you,” Lore chimes in.

  Lev scowls. “Isn’t this a delightful bag of shit you’ve gotten us into. And the girl?”

  I glare at the only other being I trust with my life. “Hope is not anyone’s concern but mine. Are we clear? No one is to lay a finger on her. She’s mine to protect and deal with.”

  Silence.

  Seconds later, Lev’s laughter erupts as he throws his head back. “Oh man. You’ve got it bad. For a human. Never in my existence did I think I’d see the day. The Circles must be a chilly place after freezing over.” Lev’s eyes find mine. “Lucifer won’t allow it.”

  I throw him an angry, pointed look. “After what happened to your parents, Lev, you know better than anyone else in this room the consequences for breaking a binding oath.”

  I don’t elaborate. I know he knows what I’m alluding to, and that is all that matters.

  “What the hell are we supposed to do here, Stolas?” Vassago hisses.

  “Now that Hope has chosen, there is no need for her to hide at Shadowbrook. We’ll bring her here. Eventually, we’ll explain the situation, while I keep my word of protection. Together, we’ll figure out a safe way to bring her into the Circles, to my father, so I don’t break my protection oath to her, or my promise to the Circles. Besides, now that she’s chosen, her visions will manifest, and she’ll need guidance to sort and understand them.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think she knows she’s an oracle,” Avi says. “I’ve been speaking with her for days. She thinks schizophrenia is the reason she sees the dark auras.”

  I close my eyes, trying to regain control of my thoughts and emotions. The idea of Hope not knowing, of me being th
e one to turn her world upside down, is strangely unsettling.

  “One more thing to explain to the mortal during her impending stay with us, then.”

  A small smile touches Lev’s lips as his eyes scan mine. “How are we getting her here?”

  I exhale, meeting his gaze. “By force. There’s no way she’ll come willingly with us.”

  The group reluctantly throws side glances at one another, angering me.

  “Is there a problem?” I ask. “Taking a human should be easy,” I darken my tone.

  “Personally, I love a good mortal kidnapping,” Vassago says sarcastically, only to be met by the group’s collective stare. “What?” He motions to Lev. “He can be snappy all the time, but I can’t? We’re demons; taking a human girl should be as easy as breathing.”

  “You can joke, Vas,” Lore replies with a gentle calm. “It’s just . . . not your style.”

  “What do we tell Lucifer when the king notices the four of us, plus his royal heir, have not returned with the oracle as directed?” Lev questions, ignoring Vas and Lore.

  “We tell him nothing. There is still plenty of time before our deadline expires,” I reply.

  “Sounds like a nightmare of a mortal babysitting job,” Leviathan grumbles.

  I step into his personal space. “I did my part. She aligned with us. Now do yours.”

  FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE

  Hope

  I WALK AT A SLOW and steady pace, counting every second that goes by. For some reason, I’m on edge today. It’s strange. Since my interaction with Stone days ago, I feel as though I’ve been wandering aimlessly around the retreat.

  Like I’m searching for something I’ve lost, but I have no clue as to what.

  I’m unfocused.

  Even though the night I met Stone, I slept the best I had in years, the nightmares are getting worse and the black swirls and shadows that stalk me are everywhere now. Maybe Dr. Foster needs to rework my medication, because I may appear fine physically, but mentally and emotionally I am far more screwed up than I was before I arrived here.

  I come to a complete stop in the hallway. The world tilts and my vision blurs, forcing me to place my hands on the wall for support. I take in a deep breath through my nose, then exhale slowly through my mouth. Trying to focus on the motionless cameras, it dawns on me the lights are off. They’re not following my movements.