Dark Pact: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (Her Dark Guardians Book 1)

by Alana Serra

  He got his chance once they returned to Ebonhold. With Rhia’s permission, the other two guardians began working on their plan to build up the keep’s defenses. Through their travels, they’d gained tribute from orcs, gnolls, and even the peixos, giving them enough funds to put serious work into improving Ebonhold as a fortress. And while Wesley would have to focus on shrouding and warding spells, they weren’t on his mind currently.

  All he truly wanted at the moment was to offer his experience in the hopes that it might soothe some of the pain he knew she was going through. He felt compelled to lessen it, if not take it away completely, and it wasn’t just the calling. Something drew him to Rhia specifically. Her resilience. Her wit. Her ability to see beyond her own interests and understand the needs of others.

  Being attracted to her was no surprise at all, and when he’d kissed her in the war room—when she’d been so close to him, her lithe body wrapped around his—Wesley hadn’t mistaken it as anything but what it was. Genuine attraction, a pull toward someone who would have gained his interest regardless of her status as Dark Lady.

  The fact that he’d ruined it by opening his mouth was just his sheer, desperate idiocy at work. He’d felt a sudden, possessive flare when she’d been with him, and he’d wanted the pact to deepen the bond between them. He wanted to be the one she gave herself to, even though he knew Dark Ladies didn’t tend to play favorites with their guardians. Either they were merely her protectors and nothing more, or she took all of them to her bed and treated them as equals.

  Wesley wasn’t bothered by the idea of Karak and Liam touching her, yet he still wanted her lust and adoration fixed on him. It was a selfish thought, and one he needed to abolish. Also one he needed to apologize for, but that could come once he’d opened the steel door she’d slammed on her own emotions.

  Wesley found her in her chambers, his little imps alerting him to her presence there. He rapped the brass knocker against the heavy wooden door and waited. When there was no response, he called out.

  “Rhia? It’s Wesley.” Still nothing. Not even the sound of footsteps. “I just want to talk.”

  He listened again, holding his breath to better hear on the other side. While he wasn’t above asking his little minions to check on her whereabouts, he wouldn’t send them in to invade her privacy. If she wouldn’t open the door to him, he’d just speak through it and hope she was listening.

  “All right. I’m going to talk. If you want me to stop, just say the word.”

  As there was still no response, Wesley pressed on. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say to her, but he’d assumed they would be face to face when he did it. Not being able to see her violet eyes was more of a hindrance than he expected, and he faltered several times.

  It was nerve-wracking, for some reason. Wesley set himself to pacing and dragged a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. Before he could even manage the words, he heard Rhia’s voice, muffled through the door.

  “If you’ve come here to tell me it’ll all be okay and I’m better off without him, you can save your breath.”

  She’d forced the emotion from her voice, but still Wesley could hear hints of it creeping in. It helped center him, and as he looked at the door, he imagined her on the other side. He even placed his hand against the wood, feeling more centered when he did so.

  “That’s not what I’ve come here to say, Rhia,” he assured her. “Actually, I think I’m the only person who will tell you the exact opposite.”

  There was no response, so Wesley continued.

  “Well, maybe not the exact opposite. I do think you’re better off, but there’s more to it than that. The others… they won’t see the nuance in it. How it’s possible to need that validation from someone you care about, even if you know you’re not likely to get it.”

  He turned more fully toward the door, his hand moving over it in a caress, as though in doing so he could touch her, too.

  “I know you care for him, Rhia. I’m not here to say you shouldn’t, even if I think you deserve better. I’m here to say I understand. Better than most. I know what it’s like to make that choice, that sacrifice for another. To have them look at you with fear and revulsion. To know they’ll never understand, never approve of what you did, but to crave their approval nonetheless.”

  Every word he spoke carved deeper into his heart. He’d done so much to bury these feelings over the past few years, because what good were they? They didn’t help him keep Emma safe. They certainly didn’t help him keep himself safe.

  As he was composing his thoughts, clearing his throat to try and chase the roughness away, he heard footsteps within Rhia’s chamber. When she reached for the door, he could almost feel it, and the sound of the latches being undone and the hinges relenting as she opened it were far more validating than they had any right to be. Seeing her, though…

  She hadn’t cried any further on the trip back to Ebonhold. She’d been stoic and mostly unresponsive beyond doing whatever needed to be done. Now, though, her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks had tear tracks running down them, and she looked as if she’d spent the entire time locked in here sobbing her eyes out, with none of them the wiser. He should have come to her sooner, should have offered whatever comfort he could. He was tempted to do so now, to pull her into an embrace and let her cry against him, but he didn’t want to force her.

  If she wanted to lean on him, she would. Until then, he would do whatever he could to help. Including answering her questions as honestly as possible.

  “Your sister?” she asked, her voice scratchy despite the fact that she cleared her throat.

  Wesley nodded, standing somewhat awkwardly in the entryway as Rhia walked away, toward the bedroom. The door was open and he could see her sit down on the edge of the bed. When she rested a hand on the space beside her and looked up at him, the relief he felt was immeasurable. He wanted to be close to her. To touch her, if she would allow it. Just take her hand, stroke her cheek, wipe away her tears. He wanted to feel her warmth even if he wasn’t holding her.

  In that moment, he thought he even needed it, and not just for her sake.

  Shedding his coat and folding it over the back of a chair, Wesley came to sit beside her. Without prompting, Rhia leaned against him, the side of her head resting against his shoulder. Wesley put an arm around her and rubbed her arm through the long sleeve of a simple frock. Possibly even a dressing gown, given how light the fabric was.

  “What happened?” she asked after several moments. “You don’t have to tell me, but I—”

  “I’ll tell you,” Wesley said softly.

  He was quiet for some time, though, his fingers tracing soothing, rhythmic circles over her arm. It was as much to comfort himself as it was to comfort her, and it seemed to work. Just being near her was enough to calm that aching void inside, making it easier for Wesley to open up.

  “Emma and I were very close. She’s nearly ten years younger than I am, but we were all each other had for most of our lives. Mother died giving birth to her and Father was always working, trying to keep a roof over our heads. At first, anyway.”

  Already he could feel bitterness creeping in, but he pushed it back. He’d get to that part of the story in due time.

  “She was such a bright girl. I had to study for everything I learned, but all she needed was the barest explanation and she understood it. I was always a little jealous of her,” he said with a small smile, “but proud, too. She would have put me to shame at the academy, and I would’ve been glad for it.”

  Rhia snuggled a little closer to him, reaching out with her own hand to touch him in the same way he was touching her, caressing soothing circles into his waistcoat, her hand lingering right above his heart. “What happened?” she asked after a moment, sympathy evident in her tone.

  “Our father was… well, he had some idiotic ideas about how to improve our lives. He was always into one scheme or another, but most of the time it didn’t matter, because he was working and
so was I, when I wasn’t at the academy.” He left out the fact that he’d worked himself to the bone while his father did the bare minimum, choosing to devote as much time as possible to his grand ideas. “He fancied himself an inventor for a while. Then he was convinced he had dicing knowledge that no other man in Platsia possessed. Once he invested nearly all of our money into a stud horse, certain he’d recoup the cost the next foaling season, but he knew nothing of horses, and the groom who sold him the beast was well aware. The stallion went lame before the season ever started.”

  “People always seem to act against their better sense when they’re desperate,” Rhia said, her compassion shining through even as Wesley was deep in his own bitterness.

  “I understand desperation. I understand it all too well. Desperation was having to beg for food without my father knowing about it because it would have hurt his pride.”

  He knew his words were clipped, but Rhia didn’t pull away from him. She put both arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder for a moment, looking up at him with a kindness he wasn’t sure he deserved.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I only had to look out for myself when I was doing that, but I wouldn’t wish even that on anyone.”

  Guilt crept into Wesley’s consciousness. He’d come here to soothe her, to help her realize it was okay to not be able to move past this immediately. Yet here he was leaning on her for support, basking in the empathy she showed him. He soldiered on, though, knowing self-loathing certainly wasn’t going to help matters any.

  “Because he had a new scheme every week, and because that was taking up so much of his time and energy, my father lost his job at the mill. I was prepared to leave the academy, work as many jobs as it took until Emma was grown, but he said he’d take care of it. He was adamant about it. I’d never seen my father cry before then, but he did that night. He told me he’d failed us as a father and a man, and promised he’d make it right. And… he did, I suppose.”

  Wesley drew in a breath, knowing the worst was yet to come.

  “Within a week, he came home with more gold than any of us had ever seen before. More than enough to pay for my tuition and eventually Emma’s. Enough to repair the house that was falling apart by that point. Enough to actually have meat on the table, and not just the occasional scraps in a stew. He told us he’d found work as a gardener for a baron, and we believed him. I believed him, even if every sign pointed to it being a lie.”

  “He’s your father,” Rhia said, her voice quiet and soothing, her touch even more so. “Of course you’d want to believe he could change for the better.”

  Wesley rested his hand atop hers, grateful for her words, though still annoyed with himself for needing to hear them.

  “Some months later, two men came to the door in the dead of night. They were armed with blackjacks and crossbows, and they didn’t hesitate to pull them on my father. Threatened to beat him bloody in front of his children if he didn’t pay up. He said he didn’t have it, wailed and pleaded with them to give him more time, so they did exactly what they’d promised. Beat him so badly I had to drag him to the temple for healing.”

  Rhia turned her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. He shifted a bit so that she could settle more comfortably against him, his arms slipping around her in turn. It felt not only comforting, but natural in a way few things had for him in years. Uncomplicated, and without some ulterior motive or cost associated. It was simple affection, given and taken in kind, and he craved it.

  “Once he was healed, Father explained that he’d never worked for Baron Tremont. He’d solicited a loan from him, with the intention of paying it back with yet another scheme. But he spent the money in a hurry, never coming up with a way to make it back, and the baron sent his thugs to collect. By that point, I was almost finished with my schooling at the academy and I thought I could appeal to the baron—offer to be his personal sorcerer to work off my father’s debt. But I never got the chance.”

  Wesley’s lips curled into a snarl, the memory surging forward in his mind with brutal clarity. He’d been filled with hope, resolved to do the right thing and save his family with what he’d learned at the academy. He’d dressed up, prepared to appeal to the baron in person. Yet when he’d opened the door, the baron’s carriage was there, sitting in such stark contrast against the backdrop of the slums.

  “Baron Tremont showed up at our home, dressed in all his finery. He demanded recompense on the spot, and—with two city guards behind him—threatened to have both my father and I thrown into jail if he didn’t pay. I tried to tell him I would work for free, do whatever he wished, but then he…” Wesley drew in a shuddering breath, his body growing suddenly tense. “Then he saw Emma.”

  He could still remember the look in the man’s eyes. Lecherous. Sinister. It made his skin crawl back then, and it made him ill to think on it now.

  “He said he would take her as his ward. She was fifteen at the time, still just a girl. She was to be there three years, during which he said he would provide for her, educate her, and have her taught the social standards of a lady meant to keep her husband’s home.” Bile rose in Wesley’s throat and he had to fight it down. “A blind man could have seen what he intended. The way he looked at her…”

  “Goddess,” Rhia breathed. “Please tell me your father resisted?”

  “No. Whether he truly believed the baron or was just desperate enough to sell his only daughter to a monster, I don’t know. But he did it. Emma was taken away then and there, and when I tried to follow, tried to demand he take me with her, bring me in as a sorcerer like I’d planned, he had me thrown in the jail for the night.” Wesley drew in a few steadying breaths. He’d almost reached the point he’d hoped to make, but it was a long and perilous road. “I didn’t see her again until a year later. She was in the market with a lady’s maid, and it took an effort just to speak with her alone. She was wearing this shroud and shawl so I couldn’t see her face at first, but then I saw the bruises.”

  He swallowed hard, and Rhia hugged him tighter.

  “I didn’t have to hear the extent of what he’d done to her. I could see it in her eyes. She was broken, and I hadn’t been able to stop it. Her lady’s maid ushered her away before I could come up with a plan, of course, but I sought out anyone and everyone I thought could help. The guard captain, my professors at the academy, the guild. Everyone told me they couldn’t do anything. That Tremont was too powerful, his influence too great, and just to speak of him in such a slanderous way was liable to get my head on the chopping block.”

  Even then, he’d held out hope. With every person he spoke to, every person who cowered behind propriety and told him to never speak of it again, Wesley was sure there was someone out there who had the courage and conscience to stand up to him. But he’d never found that person. Not even the hint of them.

  “By that point, my father spent his days drinking himself into a stupor, so he was no help. And I refused to let Emma suffer, so… I did what I had to do. I looked into the things they’d forbidden us from studying at the academy. The dark magic I’d been fascinated by, but unwilling to use until then. I called upon Aeredus, begged him to give me the power to rectify the situation, and he did. He became the patron of my study, giving me access to powers I never would have dreamed of possessing before. I can still remember how it felt, being able to conjure magic with my mind, shaping it to my needs instead of reading it directly from a spellbook.”

  “What did you do?” Rhia asked, looking up at him. “Did you convince the others to bring justice against Tremont?”

  Wesley’s heart clenched uncomfortably in his chest and he looked away. He wanted to be honest with her, but if he told her the truth of this, she might cast him out. At best she would likely never be this close to him again.

  “Wesley.” She was waiting for him to respond, and so he looked down at her, meeting her eyes. They shimmered with unshed tears, shining with a kindness he was certain he didn’t deserve. “Whatever
it is, you can tell me. I’ll understand.”

  He let out a helpless little chuckle. “I came here hoping to make you feel more at ease, not to rest all of my burdens upon your shoulders.”

  “What, you don’t think I can take it?” She pulled back from him just enough to arch her eyebrow playfully. “I’ll have you know these shoulders have held up the weight of the world.”

  A warm smile overcame Wesley despite himself. “I don’t doubt that at all.” He sighed, knowing he’d resigned himself to whatever fate would befall him the second he’d entered this room. “I did use my powers to seek justice, but… on my own terms. I went to Baron Tremont’s estate myself. I made sure I could get through without harming anyone but him. Avoided his guards and servants, made my way to his chambers directly. He was in bed with one of his whores, so I waited until she left and he was fast asleep. Then I conjured the beasts from the shadows, the ones I’d only read about in forbidden tomes. I woke him up, terrorized him until he was begging for mercy. Then I gave him none.”

  He felt Rhia’s sharp intake of breath, and while a certain amount of shame swept over him, it wasn’t for what he’d done.

  “Don’t ask me to regret it, Rhia. Because I—”

  “I’m not,” she said firmly. “I’d never ask that of you. Not when I would have done the same thing in your shoes.”

  Relief flooded him, so swift and sudden that Wesley let out a long breath, unable to speak for some time. He looked at Rhia, searched her eyes for any sign she was just being gentle with him for some reason. But he could see the same certainty there, that familiar touch of shame mixed with an unabashed conviction.

  “I would never hurt the innocent,” he said in a whisper. “I made sure none of his men were caught up in all of it. But Emma…” He could feel his throat closing, a thick lump keeping him from speaking for several moments. “He kept her in the room next to his. She heard him screaming even though I dampened the sound. She saw me standing over him, those creatures behind me. And she was… the way she looked at me…”