Stolas: A Dark Soul Series Novel

by Randi Cooley Wilson

I watch Hope sleep from a chair across from the bed, in the corner of the room. Like I’ve done so many nights before, I can’t stop myself. Nor do I want to. For some reason, I find it calming to watch her while she’s unable to hide, when she can’t put up a wall to protect whatever vulnerabilities she has. And tonight, just like every other night, she’s tossing, turning, and whimpering.

  I walk over to the bed—my normal routine—and sit down next to her. With my presence, she settles, almost as if she can feel me.

  I’m frustrated at myself for becoming attached to her. Without even realizing she’d done it, her mind screamed for me during her vision of Malia. Something in my chest tightens at the thought she feels safe with me. I like it. Crave it even.

  She isn’t mine to protect—my vow to Gabriel aside—but I’m going to do it anyway.

  My palm hovers over her forehead, as I mutter a protection charm in Italian that will provide her a peaceful night’s rest. Only tonight, her body doesn’t calm or relax into a blissful slumber.

  After a few flutters, her eyes open and she peers at me through her long, dark lashes. Her intense cobalt gaze makes me feel something I’ve never experienced before. For a split second, I see something familiar in her bright stare.

  Something I’ve always seen in my own reflection.

  Loneliness.

  I can’t help but notice how tiny and vulnerable she looks. And it does unusual things to me. For example, I’ve never wanted to kiss someone as much as I do her in this moment.

  I reach over and caress the side of her face. Hope leans into my hand like she’s been waiting for me to do this since the second I sat down beside her. My thumb traces her pouty lips, causing her mouth to open slightly.

  Her breath hitches when I pull on her bottom lip. Then I move to grip the back of her neck and bring her to me; my eyes locked on hers.

  Damn, we are bad for each other. For so many reasons. I know this is wrong, and I should stop—but I can’t. I also know if my lips touch hers again, there will be no coming back from it, not this time.

  She slowly licks her lips, trying to control her unsteady breathing.

  Fear and sheer desire roll through my body. Two feelings that should never mix.

  “What are you doing, Stone?” Her eyes flick to my lips.

  Before I can stop myself, our mouths collide and she releases a soft moan.

  I draw her bottom lip into my mouth with my teeth, nibbling the soft flesh. Digging my hands in her hair, I lift her and pull her closer. I part her lips with my tongue, stealing parts of her with each stroke. Her tongue fights back, tasting and dancing with mine. I’m gone. I retreat for only a moment before I approach her mouth from a different angle, getting lost in her kiss; lost in the sensation of her lips pressed against mine. The way she tastes is my favorite new addiction.

  “We should stop.” My voice is deep and gravelly against her lips.

  “I totally agree,” she replies, but doesn’t move away.

  “You agree with me? That’s a first,” I tease and she laughs.

  I hadn’t been prepared for the sound, or the adoration she gives to me freely. It takes everything in me to keep the demon at bay, and not climb on top of her and ravish her body.

  But I don’t, because that isn’t what this is about.

  Without realizing it, the barrier protecting my mind falls, and Hope stills in my arms. I pull back, searching her face, which is blank. I’ve seen this look enough times now to know she’s having a vision. I wait, until she blinks away the prediction and her chest heaves.

  I search her wide-eyed expression, curious about what she saw. Panic replaces lust.

  She sits up and pulls her knees to her chest, and swallows audibly.

  “Hope?”

  “I had a vision. About you.”

  “What about?” My tone deepens. “Something about tomorrow?”

  “It was more like a scene from your past. You were a baby, in your mother’s arms.”

  My blood runs cold and I sit straighter, taking in a deep breath. “My mother, Tazia?”

  She nods. “She was in a glowing room, standing in front of a council.”

  My brows furrow. “Maybe the Council of Archangels?” I surmise.

  “They were discussing your lineage and divine blood line. She was arguing that you were just a baby; that you shouldn’t be used as a pawn in their war,” she continues.

  My unease increases with every word she breathes.

  Her piercing gaze pins me as her expression twists. “Gabriel was there. He was angry, and going on about how your mother was born of fire—all of them were. They were unconvinced she’d truly been pregnant or given birth to you, since you weren’t human. He was accusing her of lying to all of them. She kept denying it.”

  Gabriel. Of course.

  I resist the urge to grab the pillow next to her and rip it apart. I continue to listen to her retelling of the vision, ignoring her fatigued expression and troubled eyes.

  “What else did they say?” I demand quietly.

  “Another member managed to convince the rest of the council that if you were really the child of Lucifer and Tazia, both you and your mother should cease to exist. That you were evil, and therefore forbidden to grace the divine gates; that your father should fall for his sins.”

  Hope scoots closer, taking my face between her palms as I clench my jaw.

  “Gabriel stepped in front of your mother. He was angry that you were Lucifer’s child, but he loved her. So much so, that he convinced the council to keep you both alive. That perhaps you were not immoral, but a divine miracle, sent to them so that one day, your divine blood would rise and you could be useful in their war efforts.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Gabriel convinced the council to allow you to fall with your father.”

  “What?” I bark, causing her to flinch.

  “Not for the reasons you think.”

  “No?” I huff out in disbelief.

  “He argued that your existence was important to the divine gates. That if they sent you to the Circles, one day, your divine blood would rise, triggering the divine war and gifting you the strength to betray Lucifer, ending his existence and uniting Heaven and Hell.”

  My stomach clenches with fear and anger. “And my mother?”

  “Clutching you to her chest, she fought and said no. After a lot of convincing, she finally agreed, but only if she could continue to exist, solely to watch over you after you fell.”

  I absorb the meaning of her words. “Meaning, she chose to fall—to become human. It wasn’t a punishment for loving my father, as he thought?” Bolting off the bed, I pace the length of the room, my hand trembling at her declaration, my shoulders tense.

  “There’s more.” Her voice is so small.

  “Tell me,” I demand, not meaning to sound like the asshole I do.

  “She also made the council make a promise to her, in the event she didn’t survive.”

  “What kind of fucking promise?”

  “The divine would create an oracle who could read dark souls; tempting Lucifer to capture and use the soothsayer for his own selfish desires. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the power. They agreed, decreeing the oracle’s sole purpose for existence would be to protect you and enlighten you of your true purpose and reason for existing, as is your birthright. The gods didn’t create her, the divine did. To protect and guide you.”

  I turn and face her full on, watching as the blood drains from her face. “What?”

  “They called her the Oracle of Lost Souls.”

  GODS AND MONSTERS

  Stone

  I STARE AT HER LIPS. A moment ago, I’d wanted to devour them. Now, the words coming out of her soft, vanilla-flavored mouth have me ten seconds from coming unglued. My mind churns, running through all the years of torture and suffering I’ve endured at my father’s hand, under the guise of being the next heir—my birthright.

  He’d molded me into the prod
igal prince and son, always reminding me that one day the Circles would be mind. “MOTHERFUCKER!” I scream out in frustration.

  Hope jumps off the bed and grabs my shoulders. “Stone.”

  Enraged, I grab her and shove her against the wall, then slam my mouth over hers. I take everything from her, not asking permission as I forcefully push my way into her mouth with such passion, she lets out a gasp and moan.

  Hope’s body arches into me as I inhale her—demanding more than she can give. Feeling my demon rise to the surface, and I pull back, only to plow my fist into the wall directly above her head. The sound of cracking plaster and white dust falling in her hair has Hope skittering away from me.

  “Are you saying the divine allowed me to fall, with my mother’s permission?”

  “Yes.”

  “To be used as a pawn in their war. To defeat my father and ruin the Circles?”

  She pales.

  I growl, because deep down, I’ve always known I didn’t really belong here. I never have. I’ve always been torn between two worlds, filled with gods and monsters. But the truth is more than I can handle. My mother and my divine blood rejected me, then used me for their own selfish needs. My father didn’t want me. He was forced to claim me, and then when he did, he used me to his own advantage as well.

  My eyes find Hope’s.

  Even she’s a lie, designed to manipulate me.

  I suck in a large breath, feeling like I’ve just been sucker punched and can’t exhale.

  “Stone, I—”

  I hold up my hand. “Don’t.”

  “You don’t understand. Let me expl—”

  I let out a bark of laughter. “Explain what exactly?” I move toward her, watching her eyes fill with hurt. “How shitty it is to find out that no one wanted me, ever? That I was simply a bargaining chip my mother used to save her own ass? Or how about, how I was handed over by a council, whose sole purpose is to offer kindness and redemption, and forced to become fallen. Fuck, Hope! My entire existence is a lie. As are you.”

  She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

  “I have nothing. I have been tortured and treated cruelly my entire life. I have done things to others—things that would blow your fucking fragile, human mind. And for what?” I shout, causing Hope to startle again and step back.

  “You’re right,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

  I look away, too disgusted to even make eye contact with her. “And you. You’re just another string they fucking pulled. Are you working for Gabriel? Did he goad me on purpose that night in the club, manipulating me into vowing to protect you? Is that why you want me? So that you can use me too? Did you brainwash my mind so that I would be attracted to you? Want to protect you?”

  “No.” Her voice quivers.

  “Then why the fuck did you tell me this shit?”

  She grips my arm. “I did it to keep you safe.”

  “Safe?” I snarl. “Right. You’re worried about my safety, mortal?”

  “I understand you’re upset, but stop being such an asshole. I am not your enemy.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  My eyes narrow on her hand. “Let go. I’m fucking serious.”

  “No.”

  The muscles in my arm twitch as I pry my arm away from her.

  “Do me a favor, stop pretending to care about me. I can’t do,” I pause, motioning my hand between us, “whatever this back-and-forth thing is. I can’t do it.” I lean over her, seething. “I don’t need your sympathy, mortal. The only thing I want you to feel, when it comes to me, is fear.”

  “Well then, job well done.”

  “Malia will be here in the morning. We meet my father tomorrow.” I storm out, slamming the bedroom door behind me. The distance I’m putting between us is doing nothing to ease the sinking feeling in my stomach, or the ache in my heart.

  A fucking pawn.

  That’s all I am.

  And Hope . . . my growing feelings for her will end up killing us both.

  Because in the end, regardless of her visions or words, I will choose the Circles.

  Impatiently, I look around the ancient graveyard before walking into the archaic tomb. I make my way down the few stone stairs, and follow the fire-lit path to the wooden doorway leading into the vault. I open and close it behind me as I step into the quiet vault.

  The candles burn low, their wax dripping into puddles on the metal holders, and down onto the stone floors and table—just as they’ve done for centuries. The oak bookcases and tapestry-covered walls add to the mix of faded colors and shadows. Ancient books lay scattered about in piles.

  They’re lost scribes from mortal days; the records sealed in covers of leather and brass to protect them from the ravages of time. Their contents cover the entirety of humanity’s history; the ink and script in ancient style. The tea-stained pages have aged, but the words and stories are clear—providing hope and faith for the mortals to honor and believe.

  “You called?” Gabriel announces his presence, bored as always.

  I turn to face the archangel, searching his violet eyes. “I like how you come when I call, much like a dog would.”

  “Are we here to throw insults? Or is there a purpose to your unexpected demand for my presence?” His booming voice echoes off the stone walls.

  “Where is my mother?” I pin him with a glare.

  “As I have told you over the centuries, I do not know where Tazia is.”

  I step closer, fighting the desire to move in the opposite direction of him. “After she fell, who was assigned to protect her soul?”

  He inhales, his eyes falling on me. “No one. She declined divine protection.”

  “Of course, she fucking did,” I spit out.

  “Your language is vile,” he scolds.

  “Aww. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day.” I smile, willing him to look at me. “Since you’re bound to truth, I want to know. Did you set me up in the club that night to protect Hope?”

  Golden wings flutter in irritation, not allowing him to lie. “Yes.”

  I rear back, as if he slapped me. “You used my emotions for my mother against me, knowing that, out of spite, I would vow to protect Hope. How . . . divine of you.”

  “The oracle has enlightened you then?”

  “Hope,” I bite out. “Her name is Hope. And yes, your little pawn did.”

  A knowing smile curves on his lips. “The oracle was created for your protection.”

  “So I’ve learned.”

  He sighs. “These games are getting tiring, Stone. What answers do you seek?”

  “None.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “To deliver a message. Isn’t that your sole purpose for existing?”

  He remains calm, covering up his intense irritation. “And your message would be?”

  I keep my smile firmly in place even though I’m itching to torture him. “Please inform the council of their plan’s failure. My loyalty remains to my father, and the Circles.” I take a few steps to leave, but his voice stops me.

  “You have divine blood in you.”

  “There is nothing left in me that is divine. It’s all darkness.”

  “Your mother did not want it this way.”

  “That reminds me . . . if Tazia’s soul should resurface, your love for her won’t save her this time.”

  “And the oracle?”

  “She belongs to the Circles. And me. Any sign of divinity left in her, I will destroy.”

  “Don’t do this, Stone.”

  “All’s fair in love and war, Gabriel. Pass that on to your divine Gods and monsters.”

  Hope

  I step out of the bathroom, with the steam from my shower following me, only to come to a complete stop when I see Avi and Malia. They’re standing in front of the closet, eyeing the ridiculous amount of clothes hanging in it. Giggling, they talk in a whispered tone.

  I clear my throat, a
nd both turn to face me.

  Avi runs over and pulls me into an embrace. “I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.”

  “We just saw each other yesterday.”

  “I know, but when you’re a demon, it feels like forever,” she whines.

  “What?” I laugh at her theatrics.

  Malia watches us with an odd fascination.

  “Malerie, come here,” Avi says, and my attendant frowns at the incorrect name.

  “Avi, this is Mah-lee-yeh,” I correct.

  “Oh, sorry. Why didn’t you correct me earlier?”

  “Apologies, but it is not my place, my Lady.”

  Avi waves her off. “Call me Avi.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Malia and I are here to get you ready for dinner.”

  I smirk. “It takes three women to get one dressed?”

  Avi leans in, as if we’re sharing a secret. “It does when the dinner is with Lucifer.”

  Fear begins in the hollow of my stomach and creeps into my veins.

  “This is dinner with, his Highness,” Malia corrects. “And I’m told that all the leaders of the Circles will be in attendance, so you must be fully polished this evening.”

  I ignore her ridiculous statement. “Who told you that?”

  “Prince Stolas, when he called for me.”

  I inhale. He called for her? After sharing my vision with him, Stone had stormed off and was gone for the rest of the day. I hadn’t realized he’d returned. Probably because he hasn’t bothered to tell me. His mental block is up, and I’m positive he isn’t taking it down again.

  Malia approaches me slowly, like I’m a frightened animal. She shows me a simple black dress, allowing me to assess it. There is a V-shaped plunge in the front that looks like it will hit my belly button, the back mirroring the front design.

  “It’s Carolina Herrera.” She smiles.

  “It’s lovely.”

  She holds up a pair of black heels with red soles. “Louboutin.”

  “Get out of here,” I gasp, and she nods excitedly.

  “Leave her hair down,” Avi directs. “No jewelry, or anything to adorn her.”

  “Yes, my Lady,” Malia answers, and proceeds to help me get ready.

  A short time later, I’m all dolled up, and ready to meet the devil himself.