Dark Burn: Fated & Forbidden

by Decadent Kane

  Again she slammed herself into the barrier. She shoved into the barrier with her whole body and spirit, shoulder after shoulder. But there was no give. She screamed in her head, but her vocal cords were silent. She kneed him in the balls, but her leg stayed stubbornly straight. Nicholas was removing his button-up shirt. Slowly. Watching her as if he'd played this exact scene out in his head over and over. Gads, he probably had! His shirt slipped from his barreled chest. Her stomach churned yet again.

  "You know the hardest part for me about all of this? I wanted you to want me on your own. But when you came to the bank, when I saw you, I knew you were leaving and never coming back. I had to have you now or never. I choose now. I waited to give you time to come around." He sneered at Priya.

  She wanted to punch him in the face. How could he be so delusional as to think she would want someone like him? She glared at him from inside, wished with all her might that he could feel her anger. She would never want someone who could do this to another person, someone who could use, abuse, and most likely kill. If he'd taken care of that young man from the farm . . . was he dead? He'd only been a one-nighter, but his life was important. All life was important. And she wanted to fucking keep hers. Again, she slammed her essence into the barrier, wanting freedom, wishing with all her might the barrier would lift, or even weaken enough for her to crash her way back to control. Nothing happened except for fatigue and a slight headache. If she gave up, gave in inside her head, would she still respect herself if she managed to find a way out later, when control came back to her body? No. She had to keep trying, had to keep swinging. Eventually, something would have to give, and it wouldn't be her.

  He yanked his belt out of his pants in one long sweep, and she fell to the figurative floor in her mind.

  Chapter 9

  "You are here because I willed it so," the red-haired, otherworldly woman said. "I am she who created all."

  Doulzen heard her voice as if this were the here and now. He couldn't recall all the little details but some things did stand out. He still could smell the forest, feel the sunshine. Yet his sight only took in the gray stone of the room, the moons of the floor, the other creatures beside him. His shadow magic lingered around beings revealing their inner beings. Wolf shifters, beings with fangs, even others with wings and pointed ears. Creatures he'd never before laid eyes upon.

  "I know each and every one of you. I know you, Shadow Hunter Doulzen." Her voice boomed cold, harsh, an immovable force. Images of the creatures' and the false creators' face swirled around Doulzen, slipping in and out of his dream memory. "It ends now," the false creator said.

  Doulzen knew her to be false because Erebus had created the shades, Erebus who was one with the dark. The god who ruled within the deep, sinking depths of black. But she did know his name.

  "What do you mean?" another beside him asked.

  "I made you and I will unmake you if such is my desire." Her voice carried a note of sadness, and the room fell silent. Everyone watched this creator, this woman who claimed they were all hers.

  Confusion littered Doulzen's thoughts. What was there to unmake? If she wanted them dead, she would not have said a word. Horror struck him as an ugly thought reached him: she was threatening to take away everyone's powers, the powers of all the beings, all the species represented in this room. Their powers, their abilities were what made them different, made them more than human. And in the very depths of his soul, he knew this false creator intended to turn them all human.

  But Doulzen would not fear her. He stepped forward with his arms crossed. "Except," he said calmly, "if all you wanted was to 'unmake' us and everyone else who is like us, you'd have just done it without bringing us here to tell us about it. So why are we here?"

  "Very good," she said, smiling. Almost like she was proud he had challenged her. "I'm glad to see reason can still prevail even where anger and fear grow wild. You are right. I didn't need to bring you here. My first plan was to wait for the Blood Moon and simply act, but Zaan"—she inclined her head toward a man standing a little off to the side—"pleaded with me to offer you one last chance, and because he had a hand in creating you, I will grant him that request."

  She paused.

  Doulzen's head began to pound as the false creator spoke again.

  "I chose each of you to be a representative and champion for your people. And I chose each of you for a simple reason: none of you has found a life-mate yet. Though you may have had lovers or companions, you have yet to recognize the one true love of your life, the person who is destined by Fate to be your match, to fit into your heart and body like a key and its lock, the person who has the potential of making you happier than anyone else on this Earth or beyond could. All of you either already know this person or will meet them within the next month, before the Blood Moon. And all of you will come to realize that you're not supposed to be with him or her. They may be the enemy of your family, or someone who despises you personally. They may be human or from a different breed, someone you were taught you should not associate with. They may have inflicted great harm on you and yours, or you on them. They may seem wrong for you, or you for them, in every single way. But forbidden or not, wrong or not, they are still your fated mate if you choose to go against your very nature for the sake of love."

  His eyes watered as her words reverberated throughout his body. His ears rang from the sound, and yet she still spoke as if she were in the forest, right beside him. Doulzen tried to shake the voice off, tried to get up and move away, anything . . . but he was still lost between this realm and the dream.

  "You have four weeks to find your destined mate and form a life bond. If all of you accomplish this task before the Blood Moon rises, then I will forego my plans and leave you and yours in peace. But should one of you fail, you will all have failed."

  Moments passed by and silence wound its way back into his mind. He saw the gray stone again, the moons at his feet. His mouth moved. "And how are we supposed to know which person is our mate?"

  His wrist burned as Doulzen lay on the cool earth, the grass barely keeping him linked to his realm as the dream continued to play out. The woman cupped her hands and a ball of light grew in her palms. She flicked her wrist, long tendrils shot out of the ball of light and headed toward Doulzen. They grasped his wrist and wound their magic around his skin, sinking slowly into his flesh as his body absorbed their power. The false creator clapped her hands and Doulzen gasped as he came out of the dream. His wrist burned where the tendrils had branded his skin, the mark just a bit darker than his natural tone but its faint outline still visible.

  Three stars in the shape of a crescent.

  "Did you intend for this, Erebus, my god, my power, my creator? Did you know I would have a mate?" he asked, rolling onto his back, taking deep breaths into his lungs. A headache shot pain down his forehead and behind his eyes. Erebus wouldn't answer directly. Perhaps he never would. But the dream had clearly been more than just his subconscious or the desire of his heart. This other creator, this woman who had stolen his spirit in the night while Erebus watched, had given him a mate . . . and a piece of shit man had just stolen her.

  Doulzen lifted himself off the ground. He had no idea how much time had passed as he'd relived part of his dream, but he couldn't smell sulfur anymore. Didn't have any sense of Priya or her captors being near. He stumbled to a tree and leaned against the bark. He needed to refresh himself. A little essence would help. Doulzen took out his bag of firebird essence and sucked in a small amount, just enough to stave off the pain. It didn't take long before his headache receded. The sun glistened through the tree branches as he gathered a small amount of the shadows against the tree, tucking the magic-embalmed darkness beneath his coat, restocking his power. He had a feeling he'd need it to save Priya.

  It amazed him how much his thoughts had changed in such a short period of time. Yesterday he would have left her for whatever was coming for her, and today . . . well, today he would be getting her back.
Even if he didn't want to believe in the false creator, deep down in the depths of his soul he knew her words to be true. She would eliminate whatever powers she could and he wasn't sure if Erebus would stop her. Only one to fail for all to fail. Could he be responsible for that kind of damage to his clan, to all other hekans? He didn't believe himself to be the best of men by any means, but he didn't want that kind of horror on his hands either. He'd choose to find his mate. He'd choose to see what would happen next.

  Doulzen pushed off the tree. Nicholas had a head start. Where had Doulzen found Priya? She'd been at the outskirts of Sterling, just like he had been. In fact, hadn't she mentioned something about running into the man somewhere in town, at a bank? He would start in Sterling, ask around, and see what he could find. Once he had his hands on the fat man, Doulzen would show him why humans were afraid of the dark. He smile tugged his lips, and the shadows inside him and beneath his trench flickered through and over his body in anticipation, hoping to play. The darkness he carried was a living part of his soul, like a breathing entity entwined within him but not exactly like him. When he needed it, it would be there, and he was sure the need would rise . . . to his pleasure. He would enjoy breaking the fat man.

  Chapter 10

  Priya couldn't look and yet she couldn't turn away. Dammit! His pants fell down around his ankles. He wore a pair of gray boxers, and Priya did everything possible to avoid looking farther down or at the bed behind him. She didn't want to know anything of his below the belt. The grin on Nicholas's face never wavered. He just kept looking at her, his tongue sometimes slipping out. As if he wanted her to admire his appendage. But there was no way she would look. He reminded her of a nasty little snake, creeping its way into somewhere it didn't belong. A foul, slithering beast. She couldn't handle watching another moment of this crap.

  She had to get free. The bedroom walls closed in on her. She needed to fly.

  What if she forced a shift? She might not get her body back, but shifting was primal, not spiritual. If she could just focus hard enough . . .

  Hands were on her breasts, squeezing. Her stomach roiled. Don't think about it. Ignore it. Priya shut her eyes and thought about her bird form. She zoned everything out. The feel of his hands she replaced with the sensation of her feathers erupting from her skin, burning over her flesh, each pristine white fluffy piece a part of her body. His breath she pretended was the wind as she flew through a cloud, relying on her body's ability to remember how cool the puff felt when she broke through. She took herself back to a happy place, back to the sky where she would be free.

  She focused on that moment, driving her thoughts first into the images she had created in her mind, and willed herself to comply. Prompted by her primal desires to be in the sky, in the blue, the familiar burn finally ran down her skin. Excitement took over, and the barrier inside her popped like a bubble.

  "What the fuck have you done? No! You can't!" Nicholas backed up, tripping over his pants.

  Priya took flight, her tail igniting with her emotions. His eyes watched the flame in what she could only assume was awe, or possibly horror. Priya flapped her wings around the room, catching drapes, the bedding, and his other clothes on fire.

  Nicholas seemed to come to his senses as he jumped up, pulled on his pants, and ran out of the room. Priya took the opportunity to search for a way out. She flew down a hall and turned a corner. The sulfur-smelling man stood in front of her. A pail of freezing water splashed over her form. She instantly changed back into her human self. No! Gads! Priya crawled backward, thankful Nicholas hadn't yet started removing her clothes before she'd found her bird form. But this man . . . he could bespell her again, take over her body again, and she couldn't have that.

  She clawed at her pocket, searching for one of her feathers. She felt the soft tip and pulled the white fluff from her pocket. She hadn't trained much in magic, but Gran had shown her a few spells for protection. Priya stuffed the feather in her mouth and the sorcerer's jaw dropped.

  "By fire's will and eastern winds, protect me from this mortal's toxins." Priya felt the buzz of magic film over her body. The sorcerer glared and mumbled more spells under his breath. But Priya felt nothing from him. Success! All she needed to do was find her way out before Nicholas got ahold of her. Was it too much to hope the man had run away scared?

  Priya stood and barreled through the magic man with her right shoulder. He fell into the wall. Stunned, he just looked at her. She didn't wait around though. She took off down the stairs. At the end was the front door. She could make it.

  "Get her, you idiot!" Nicholas's voice echoed off the walls. Footfalls pounded down the stairs behind her.

  She reached for the doorknob and turned it just as a hand grabbed her hair, wrenching her backward. Her fingers slipped from freedom. The feather may have protected her from magic, but apparently not physical contact. She stumbled back. Falling, she hit the floor with a thud, the wind knocked out of her lungs. Priya gasped, trying to recapture her breath. Her head buzzed with the impact, but she couldn't just sit here until she regained her focus. She needed to get up. Needed to run. Her legs kicked out, trying to find purchase. She planted her arms behind her, pushing herself up. Her head fucking hurt. Priya pushed up, but Nicholas blocked her. She fumbled backward, trying to get away from him, but found the chest of sulfur man at her back. Gads! She reached sideways, looking for anything to grab ahold of and pull herself away. The banister met her palm and she focused all of her energy on grabbing the damn thing. Priya pulled and she fell sideways.

  "This is my home, little bird. Where do you think you can escape to that I won't find you?"

  She looked over her shoulder. Nicholas had his clothes back on. She needed to shift again. Her body still buzzed with the feather magic, so she used that to ease into her firebird. Her body burned, but the feathers sprang up just like they always did. She flapped up to the ceiling, circling it. Again, her tail caught on fire, but the flame was snuffed as it reached wet feathers. She smoked instead, but kept flapping. There had to be an open window or something she could get out of.

  "You are truly beautiful, Priya." Nicholas's voice held awe.

  She flew down, dive-bombing him in her anger.

  How dare he call her beautiful. How fucking dare he look at her as if he truly cared a single ounce about her.

  He ducked but continued to follow her around his two-story home. Priya scratched at the windows with her back legs. Flew back and dove toward Nicholas over and over again. Her wings were sore from exertion, but she couldn't . . . no, she refused to quit.

  She found a window in the kitchen, just above the sink. She threw herself into it, desperate to get out.

  She frantically pulled back and banged herself into it again.

  Again.

  Again . . .

  If just one damn pane would give, she would be free. Priya pulled back and up as high as possible. Nicholas screamed behind her, but she ignored his words. She tucked her wings beneath her to gather speed and slammed into the window.

  Chapter 11

  Dusk had already fallen by the time Doulzen reached Nicholas's house. The only light on was upstairs in the far right corner. To his delight, everything else was dark. He'd be able to slip around easily. He'd gotten the information about Nicholas from a teller at the bank. After a little flirting, she'd been happy to let his old buddy know where he lived.

  As he drew closer to a front window, he caught the faint scent of her airy smell and popped his head up to look through the window. There were cracks all over it, as if something had hit the glass. He touched the lines with his fingers and a small piece fell out. Blood came back. He sniffed the dried scent. It was a firebird. How had that man gotten a firebird? Had he somehow trapped one inside the house? Doulzen pulled on the shadows, drawing himself through them and vanishing inside. There were no sounds on the lower floor. He listened for anything coming from upstairs before moving again. When he was sure no one had detected his presence, he sifted
through the shadows, his body floating in the darkness as he maneuvered himself up the stairs. A white feather lay at the top of the steps. Doulzen rematerialized himself to pick up the feather. He twirled it in his hand before putting it into his pocket—it was just like the other one he had acquired. Was it the same white bird, or were there actually two such rarities in the world?

  Doulzen shook his head. No. He needed to find Priya; he could worry about the bird after she was safe.

  Skulking back into the dark, he slinked along the wall toward the one room with a light on. The door was closed and a soft glow shone below the doorframe. The light would stop him from shadow-walking under the door. He considered knocking, but it seemed too pleasant. Instead, he reset himself, lifted his leg, and kicked in the door. They'd know he was in the house now.

  The room was empty.

  What in the hell was going on?

  Charred pieces of material littered the room. Scraps of clothing, bedding, and curtains. Even the ceiling was scorched. Nicholas must have kept the bird in here. As if to confirm his supposition, another feather greeted Doulzen. What were the odds he'd find so many in such a short time? Why hadn't Nicholas grabbed the feathers? They were worth a lot to hekans.

  A low chant found his ears and he honed in on the sound. It was coming from a basement belowground. The magic was being directed at him. He turned toward the door and ran for the darkness. Whatever the sorcerer was throwing at him, Doulzen wanted to be in his element to deal with it. But when he reached the doorframe, he hit a barrier full force, flinging him backward. He was barely able to stop himself from landing hard on the floor.