by Kim Knox
Marek let out a slow sigh and the burn of his magic flickered and died back. He gave a quick nod. He tilted her chin and his gaze gripped her. Emotion moved through the darkness of his eyes and she ached to feel the connection that should have surged between them. She’d taken him as her primary. With his rare power, he had chosen not to fulfill their promise. Maybe he was right. Maybe the unity she wanted simply wasn’t possible with him. He wasn’t a full-blood, not like Lucas.
A brief smile touched his mouth and his mind became a wall of granite. “I will save him for you.”
“Marek…”
“Don’t want to fight, Marek?” Kanda’s clipped voice cut through her words. “Only that Lord Zorion wants you alive, I’d burn you where you stand.”
Marek turned to him and his hand gripped hers. His fingers gave a reassuring squeeze. “No, you would try.” His head tilted. “And you would fail.”
“You have no more power than the rest of us.”
He straightened and Ash felt the rise of his strength. Pride thickened in her gut and she pushed down the quick pain that it wasn’t real, that the joy in her primary was simply a fantasy. That knowledge tempered her emotion. But still, she lifted her chin. Marek wasn’t like them. Not at all.
“My mother was a prime custodian.” He wet his lips. “And my father was a dark soul. How much power do you think that gives me, Kanda?” Behind Kanda, the men shuffled and tugged on the reins, forcing the dogs to growl and scrabble against the stone floor. Marek glanced over Kanda’s shoulder to the suddenly nervous handlers. Ash pressed her lips together, denying a smile. “Your men seem to think it means something.”
Kanda’s pale blue eyes narrowed and a tic started in his cheek. “I know what you are, Marek. Thankfully, Lord Zorion kept your stink from the citadel. He has power you could never hope to understand.” His hand slid under his tunic and pulled free a small pouch. “He was prepared for exactly what you are.” He held up his palm and deliberately teased back the fabric, exposing a small shard of black crystal.
Ice spiked under Ash’s skin and unexpected panic hit her. The dogs started to yowl, a strange, keening cry that forced her hair on end. But their noise didn’t block the ripple of sharp sound from the glittering crystal, sound that, like the words Lucas and Marek had spoken, pushed at her flesh, digging, stabbing beneath her skin.
“Ancient magic,” Kanda said. A smirk cut his mouth. “Your people’s magic. Dark souls were insane, they played with powers to which they had no right. Lord Zorion will end your race.”
Marek’s fingers tightened around hers and it spurred her to fight the pain slicing into her flesh. Here was her proof that she was a dark soul. She willed her head up and focused on Marek. His jaw clenched and his skin whitened under the strain of ignoring the rush of stabbing sound from the little crystal. And there was his proof. Marek was as much a demon as she was.
It gave her little comfort, little hope, couldn’t as the song of the stone bit into her skin and muscles. Her vision grayed and her legs wouldn’t hold her up. Her world tilted as Marek swung her up into his arms.
“Stay with me, Ash.”
But the hollow ring of his voice and the deepening shadows spun her thoughts. She hated that she was weak and fought to stay awake, to deny the hot pulse of pain in her body. She couldn’t. The ripple of sound pushed at her, overwhelmed her and the last sensation she felt, beyond the agonized whine of the dogs, was the warm press of Marek’s lips against her forehead. Then blackness took her.
* * * * *
Ash groaned, dug the heel of her hands into her eyes and pressed—hard. It didn’t stop the dull pounding in her skull. She had the quick, panicked thought that nothing would and it jerked her upright. The room was dim, a single oil lamp flickering high on a white marble wall. The air was cold and something twisted through it, something that made her wince as she tried to think what it could be. She dropped her slippered feet to the floor and rolled her neck. Where was she? Her gut knotted. Where was Marek?
“Ash!”
Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her, pulling her up, bringing with them warmth and strength and easing the ache in her skull. She let out a slow breath and rested her head against a strong shoulder. A familiar scent threaded through her clouded senses, the soothing mix of linen and male skin. Her heart twisted, her relief almost a physical pain in her chest. She closed her eyes and tears leaked onto her cheeks. “Lucas.”
He buried his face against her neck, his lips hot on her skin, and their connection, the heat of his thoughts rushed through hers, wiping away the remaining agony of the stone Kanda had used against her. Snatches of images, hot, seductive, delicious, fired under her skin. Lucas wanted to do so many decadent things, starting with eating her right there, right now.
She bit back her laughter and squeezed him tight. “Is that all you want me for?”
He grinned against her neck before he pulled himself away to look at her. The weak glow of the light pooled in his eyes and his beauty caught her breath. He was hers. He lifted a dark eyebrow. “There’s more to you?”
Her laughter broke free, she thumped him. And then he was kissing her, his fingers tangled in her hair, his mouth hot and ruthless. Her spine hit a cold marble wall and Lucas pressed into her, his erection firm against her belly. Their bond surged between them, the joy they found in each other, the relief, affection…love…intensified every touch, every soft, aching moan.
She wanted him, wanted him stripping her, licking her, readying her body and then fucking her hard and fast. Her blood pounded. Her need for Lucas burned through her, the throb low in her belly forcing her to grind her pelvis against him in search of relief, in search of uniting to find the pleasure of magic.
Lucas groaned, found her hands and pinned them to the wall. The desire, the need in his gaze fueled her own. “I want that. Want you naked and me buried in your ass.”
“Now is not the time or the place.”
Marek’s clipped words broke through her rise of lust and Ash closed her eyes. He was their primary…and she obeyed him. They both did. Lucas exhaled in a quick burst of obvious frustration, but his hands eased down from hers in a slow, lingering slide. Ash quivered at this touch and met his gaze. Humor sparked there and the ripple of affection made her smile.
She cupped his jaw, her thumb wiping away the moisture from his lips. He was alive, but none of them knew for how long. He knew how she felt—they could keep nothing hidden from each other—but she needed to say the words outside of her own head. It would make them real, lasting. “Whatever happens,” she rose onto her toes and placed a soft, gentle kiss on his mouth, “know that I love you.”
Pain unexpectedly twisted her gut, sharp, quick, and then it was gone as if it had never happened. Lucas folded his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her hair and she began to doubt the sudden rush of agony. She felt his smile. “And I love you.” His smile deepened. “Even if you smell like fish guts.”
Ash grinned. “Marek and I were having too much fun to notice.”
“Really?” Lucas tilted her chin to make him look at her. Heat burned and the rise of the demon in his blood caught her breath. It tugged at her every time. She couldn’t deny it. “Show me.”
“I said enough.” Marek’s boots echoed over the stone floor and his hand fell on Lucas’ shoulder. His fingers squeezed. “We have more important things to think about than how you can fuck her.”
“I’m holding you to that promise to show me.” Lucas released her, his hands stoking over her waist, her hips before he pulled free. He took a step back. “Happy, Marek?”
Their primary’s face was a mask of stone, the touches of golden light carving his face. His dark eyes glittered, but his mind was as closed to her as the marble walls. “We’re in the lower palace from the feel of stone.” His gaze narrowed on the wall behind her. “I can feel the press of earth and rock beyond it.” His mouth thinned. “And something else.”
Ash frowned. Was that something
else the sour twist weaving through the air? She could feel it again now that Lucas wasn’t touching her. It was still…strange…to know that she was like these men, that magic curled and twisted through her veins. Magic accompanied her need to get them naked as often as possible. Sex and magic seemed to be the same thing for a dark soul. “The air tastes rank.”
“They’re suppressing the ancient magic.” Marek gave a soft laugh. “Kanda was right about one thing. Dark souls know how to fuck with their own kind.”
Lucas ran his fingers through his hair and the light touch of his suppressed unease prickled her skin. “The matriarchs, the queens, take a perverse pleasure in it.” Images flickered briefly in Ash’s thoughts, of an ice-crusted cavern and a beautiful woman stretched out before a hearth…but then with a quick smile at her, Lucas thickened his obscuring thoughts and the images faded. “My past, Ash. I’m not ready to share it… not yet.”
She willed herself not to think on the woman who had caused him to be bound to a golden statue for four centuries. That wasn’t a pressing problem. Being trapped in an underground doorless room was. “What are we going to do?”
Marek glanced up to the domed ceiling. “There’s nothing we can do. This place is ancient.”
Ash followed his gaze, staring up. In the gloom and shadows of the great curve she caught twists of writing. It shifted, moved as it had on the parchment spread out over Marek’s bed. Names formed and she recognized some of the families that Marek’s forbidden document had listed. “Ancient,” she murmured. “Dark soul ancient.”
Lucas dropped to the wide lip of the bench curving out of the marble wall. “And you didn’t know this was here?”
“The palace is heavily guarded and the emperor lets few in. There are rumors. But I was paid to look after treasure, not put my life at risk for curiosity.” Marek paced the floor, his fingertips reaching out to skim the veined walls. He stopped and sketched a wide arch against the stone. “This used to be open.” He looked around the long room. “A tunnel, maybe?”
“The Dardanas have,” Lucas frowned, “had…a fondness for monumental architecture.” He sat back against the marble wall. “I don’t know what’s left of my city now. But it was like Bukhara. Temples to the ancestors, vast basilicas, aqueducts, arenas and theaters.”
“It could be any one of those, buried under the palace millennia ago.” Marek rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Zorion wants us for some reason. Has kept us alive.”
Ash knew it wouldn’t be good. She sat next to Lucas and his arm came around her, the warm strength protecting her from the icy cold of the wall. Marek watched her, his dark eyes unreadable. Familiar heat burned under her skin. Her newly awakened instincts demanded that they complete their physical union and achieve deomos. Her thoughts would circle with her desire until that point. A small smile pulled at her lips. And if they got out of this insanity with their lives, she doubted that she would stop wanting either man.
Lucas’ arm slid down her back and he traced the crease of her thigh with slow fingers. Heat slashed across Marek’s cheeks and a pulse jumped at his temple. She could feel the almost physical press of his need against her skin and it set the low ache in her belly throbbing.
“It’s almost palpable. The need you have for each other.” A stranger’s voice broke into her growing desire.
Lucas pulled her tight to him and Mark jerked forward, standing in front of Lucas and herself, blocking her from the stranger. The arch Marek had traced had opened up, stretching back into a wide tunnel.
Custodians with torches and flanked by men with the magic-bred dogs stood behind the stranger. Ash craned her neck for a look at the man. He was tall, dressed in a custodian’s tunic, and had once held a sharp beauty. It was there in his aging face. His hair, cut short in the imperial style, was streaked with white. Dark eyes fixed on her and she felt their chill down to her toes. He seemed…familiar, as if his name burned on the tip of her tongue.
“You have us here, Zorion. What now?”
Zorion. The man who had fathered her on some poor slave and handed her over to the priests of Fausta. Her gut twisted, but she didn’t know what she felt.
“I have read the marker and it brought me here.” He held a long, clear crystal in a tight first, the light sparking in its depths. It called to Ash, a living pulse under her skin. Was that the crystal map?
Zorion glanced around the dim marble room. He fixed his attention back onto them and it forced a shiver through Ash. Lucas’ hand tightened against her hip. “I’ve planned for this moment longer than you’ve been alive.” His gaze shifted to Lucas. “Any of you.”
“Gloating later, perhaps?” Marek tilted his head. “What does the marker show?”
“All right.” Zorion’s shoulders lifted and he smoothed down the front of his leather tunic. “We can move to the end.” A dark smile touched his lips, cold, lethal. “In return for power, I offer up a deomos.”
“Offer up?” Lucas barked the question and something shifted through his thoughts. Ash tried to hold onto it, but the shock—and the terror—made it impossible. “That has always been forbidden.”
“By those too afraid to hold real power.”
Marek glanced back at them. “Sacrifice?”
The word stopped Ash’s heart. Zorion, her father, planned to kill them? No, it was more, Lucas’ terror offering something more shocking than simple death. She pushed herself to her feet and took strength from Lucas’ hand finding hers. She couldn’t lose either of them. She wouldn’t. Ash pulled in a breath and committed herself. “Let them go. The beast wants me.”
Emotion hit her, hard and swift, a wild mix of Marek and Lucas and she almost staggered under the sudden impact. Lucas’ hands gripped her wrist like iron bands and Marek glared at her, fury eddying in the darkness of his eyes.
“No.” They said the word in unison.
Zorion’s laughter cut through her and she held down the ripple of a shiver. “I should take her offer. Watch—what do you call it?—the beast devour her.”
Marek blocked her with his body and Lucas tugged her hard against him. Fear and anger vibrated through both men and Marek’s terse “Try” prickled her skin and her birthmark burned.
Ash pulled in her courage and met Zorion’s cold glare over Marek’s shoulder. “If that’s what it takes for them to go free.”
“Ash, shut up.” Marek’s words were little more than a hiss.
Zorion lifted his hand and the men behind him took a step forward. The dogs snapped, straining against their leashes. “It’s an interesting proposition. Your primary and secondary get to watch you die. Torn apart.”
The air stank with the sudden stench of hot metal. Marek’s fists writhed white with magic. “Whatever’s pulsing through the air only affects ancient magic.” He raised his fists and bristling white light twisted over his wrists and forearms. “Not my other magic.”
Zorion smirked and his own magic burst over his fingers, wreathing in and out, catching on his knuckles. “It would be…enjoyable…to take you down.” He snorted. “The honorable but lowly Marek Savada.” He painted the air with light, drawing shapes that itched at Ash’s memory. Ancient, demonic words, a name perhaps? She couldn’t be certain. “I remove the primary and then what? Your whore and your secondary are defenseless. Sport and food for my men and dogs.”
“What do you want, Zorion?” Anger edged Lucas’ voice. “As Marek said, gloat later.”
“The magic of the deomos is at its strongest when you’re naked and fucking.” His forehead wrinkled further. “Thankfully that side of my blood I’ve been able to ignore.” Distaste crawled through his voice. “Taking a slave to produce,” his hand waved at her, “someone like her, was enough.” He shook his head. “So much of your power wasted on your obsession with sex.”
“So you want us to perform?” The cold burn to Marek’s voice sank into her belly and Lucas’ hands tightened their grip. She took comfort from him. “And whatever the marker has uncovered wants that sur
ge of magic.” He paused. “And if we say no?”
“If you don’t? Then I take your precious Ash and let my men play with her before the dogs shred her. She’s dead. Your deomos is broken. But I’ll soon find another woman of my blood to whore for you. Nelek as my First Priest of Fausta will see to that.”
Ash closed her eyes, denying the hot streak of fear wrapping tight and low in her belly. This man had fathered her, but she was just a tool in his search for power.
Marek pulled in a slow breath. “But if we agree, the beast consumes us.”
Zorion shrugged. His calculating smile only deepened the terror twisting her insides. She bit at her lip, for a moment wishing she were a ward back in the temple. An abandoned baby that Rani had found. Not this. Not the daughter of a man twisted in the pursuit of power. But that wish was futile.
“Watch her die or die together.” Zorion’s head tilted. “Your choice, gentlemen.”
Chapter Twelve
“Then that’s a simple choice.” Marek straightened. “Together.”
Zorion’s mouth thinned and disgust flickered across his sagging face. “Just for sex.”
Lucas laughed, something sour and lined with derision. “Your blood is corrupted, Zorion, if you can’t appreciate the joy—”
“Spare me the details of your joy,” Zorion muttered. “Your joy is useful. Your joy will kill you.”
This was wrong. So wrong. They couldn’t die with her. They couldn’t. Her heart pounded and a sudden sweat stuck her tunic to her spine. Marek and Lucas were hers and she belonged to them. She would do anything for them…
Marek’s hand found hers and his fierce grip broke through the fast rise of panic. She knew he gave Zorion a hard smile when he said, “Then we’ll die happy.”
Lucas’ lips touched the shell of her ear. “Our last breath is yours.”