by Grace White
Table of Contents
Contents
Alora
Marcus
Epilogue
PLAYLIST
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Published by Grace White
First eBook Edition
Copyright © Grace White 2017
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
If you are reading a copy of this book that has not been purchased from a licensed retailer, please destroy it. Thank you for your support.
Edited by Andrea M. Long
Cover designed by Shout Lines
Images: Licensed from Shutterstock
Contents
Contents
Alora
Marcus
Alora
Marcus
Alora
Marcus
Alora
Marcus
Alora
Marcus
Alora
Marcus
Alora
Epilogue
PLAYLIST
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alora
I pulled the water toward me, visualizing an arch of rippling liquid as my hand swished through the air. I felt it grow, it's power multiplying, until my eyes opened and appraised the beautiful stream of water suspended above my head.
"Alora, what are you—"
The arch showered around me, running off my long hair and drenching my clothes. Allegra, my eldest sister, rolled her eyes as I gathered my hair over one shoulder and wrung it out. "That serves you right," she scolded.
"Oh, please, like you don't cast every chance you get."
"Alora." I knew that tone. It was her voice of disapproval. "We are here for Father. Not to indulge."
Indulge? Was she kidding? In a place like the Complex, indulgence wasn’t something you wished for, let alone attained.
"Alora."
I ignored her, going to my closet to retrieve a fresh set of white scrubs. Almost a year in, and I still wasn't used to the generic style clothing the Ama Seldova (AS)—the mixed Meta and Human government responsible for this experiment—insisted we wore. It felt scratchy against my skin, and did nothing for my figure. As I undressed and slid on the dry clothes, I imagined slipping into one of my silken gowns, feeling the luxurious material against my curves, wishing that I'd have smuggled one in the single bag I arrived with.
When I re-entered the room, Allegra had made herself comfortable in one of the two chairs in the living area of the place I called home. A far sight from our Kingdom on Vaimm, in the Seas of Sequoia. This suite was no more than a holding cell: a clinical and sterile room with its white walls and sparse decoration. It was on a par with our living quarters during the long war fought between Metas and Humans. At least then, we could use our powers freely without judgment or fear.
"Where is Allendra?" I asked.
"Doing whatever it is Allendra does to pass the time." Allegra helped herself to a berry from the bowl in the middle of the steel table and popped it into her mouth.
Over the last few months, our other sister, Allendra, had become increasingly restless. Much like myself. Except, where she found peace in things such as exploring the vastness of the Complex and forging friendships with other Metas, I did not. I grabbed the optho-visor, slid it over my eyes, and moved to the window, watching the farm below. Men waded in shallow pools, darting spears into the water and plucking out fish then throwing them into the buckets placed at their sides. Others picked fruits from the vibrant green, leafy bushes growing at the water’s edge.
"What do you find so interesting about them?"
I shrugged, not bothering to reply to my sister.
"They're all criminals, you know.” The derision in her voice made my skin bristle. “The worst of the worst. They live in dormitories like caged animals."
My eyes found him, the way they did every time I watched. His silver hair shimmered in the sunlight. It was too far to see his face, to make out his features, but I'd spent hours, days, even weeks, watching this man work the farm. He worked harder, faster and longer than anyone else out there. It was the first thing I noticed about him and I often found myself wondering what drove him to work until the day turned into night and the overseer demanded he take leave.
Allegra sighed over my shoulder. I hadn't heard her move closer. "Look at them” She snatched the optho-visor out of my hands and brought it to her eyes. “So dirty and disgusting." She shuddered thrusting it back at me.
"They fascinate me,” I said, my eyes following him once again.
"Fascinate you?" She sniggered with contempt. "We are immortal, sister. They are merely Human. We have lived an age, basked in the glory of Vaimm, seen Gods rise and fall, and yet here you are, obsessing over a bunch of dirty, mortal criminals."
"What do you want, Allegra?" I sighed, turning away from the window. When we'd first moved in to the Complex, I was relieved that Father had arranged for us to have adjoining suites, now I wished for some privacy. The longer we stayed here, the more things between us changed. The more I changed.
"So touchy," Allegra snipped. "I wondered if you wanted to come into Main City with me?"
"I think I'll stay here."
"Suit yourself." She stood up and flicked her long dark tresses over her shoulder. "Try and keep your urges to yourself and don’t forget you’re working at Uni Ice Spa later. Madam Dubraire said you missed your shift last week."
I pursed my lips. We both knew I wouldn't listen. Casting was who we were, it was an intrinsic part of us. And, unlike my sister, I refused to hide that. To conceal it away like some dirty secret. In the confines of my room, I was free to be myself. I wasn't harming anyone.
“I’ll be there. You don’t need to worry.”
Her eyebrows quirked up. “Don’t I?”
Allegra held my gaze for a second before shaking her head and leaving my suite. She sensed the change in me, my growing displeasure at being here, but I suspected she knew it was more than that. That lately, I’d felt disconnected from who I was.
Elemental royalty.
Our Father, Agamonra Undaniosis, was ruler of the Undines. He had once commanded the Seas of Sequoia and all that inhabited its waters, but since we were forced from our planet and into a long bloody war with Humans, everything had changed. Species that once lived in relative peace and harmony, now fought for power and control on the three Meta planets in the Seldova solar system. And here, in the Complex, things weren’t much better.
For the first time in my life, I wondered if immortality was the gift I once thought it to be. Because the prospect of living until the end of time in this strange solar system didn’t fill my heart with hope or joy, it filled me with dread.
~
“Ah, Alora, how lovely you decided to join us this week.” Madam Dubraire smiled, but it didn’t reach her wrinkled eyes.
“I’m sorry about last week.” I lied. “I didn’t feel so good.” Another lie.
The old woman regarded me for a second and then blew out a short breath. “Never mind, you are here now and we are busy. I need you in Room Three.”
“Really?” My lips lifted in a surprised smile.
“That is your specialty, is it not? If you don’t feel ready I can always ask one of the Nymphs.”
“No, no,” I shook my head eagerly. “I can handle it. I promise.”
“Good, then get to it, your first client is waiting.”
For the first time since working here, I felt a seed of excitement blossom in my chest. Father had arranged for all three of us to assist Madam Dubraire, a Sprite, at the Uni Ice Spa, one of three Spas in Main City. I only worked one evening a week, and filled in when she needed me but, until now, I hadn’t been allowed to handle private clients. My father’s doing, no doubt. I still wasn’t entirely sure how he managed to influence our positions here in the Complex, but he’d found a way. And despite being an immortal, I was his baby. He treated me with a level of coddling he never subjected Allendra and Allegra to.
I changed into a fresh pair of scrubs, emblazoned with the orange U representing the Uni Company that was responsible for all commerce, housing, and resident’s clothing in the Complex, and twisted my hair into a slick bun secured at the nape of my neck with pins. Room Three was a perfect rectangle of white sterile walls and aluminum furnishings. A massage table was positioned in the middle, and a counter lined one wall, housing oils, brushes, and towels. I washed my hands in the basin and dried them on a stiff, gray towel. The door swung open and my eyes landed on the silver-haired man I’d spent hours watching. His dark gaze swept over my body and he nodded perfunctorily, but my eyes were too busy drinking in his bronzed torso and the rippled grooves and planes of his stomach.
“Hello, I’m Alora.” I gulped, still shocked at his appearance. He was the last person I expected to see here. “I’ll be your therapist today.”
He grunted a response as he moved to the table, the white towel wrapped low around his waist swishing with his steady stride, as if he’d done this a thousand times before.
Why did that thought bother me so?
“Make it hurt.”
Hurt?
It seemed like an odd request. I didn’t want to hurt him.
He climbed onto the table, face pressed into the ring. My hands trembled as I rounded the bed taking in his physique. Allegra said he was a criminal. A lowly Human. But no one could deny the strength of his ripped muscles and broad shoulders.
“Are you going to stand there all day? Or get on with it? I’m paying by the hour and I want my coins worth.”
His voice was a stark contrast to the soft, melodic music playing out of a hidden communication device. Annoyed by his snippy tone, I hovered my hands above his skin and closed my eyes. A rush of ice cold liquid expelled from my palm coating my skin like a glove. I couldn’t feel it’s temperature, immune to its power, but he felt it. His body recoiled with nowhere to go as I pressed down.
“Colder,” he barked, as my hands swept up and down his back in firm strokes.
I imagined a glacier. The sting of ice against skin, and he groaned somewhere between pain and pleasure. It made me uncomfortable knowing that this glorious man wanted to feel this, as if he seemed to be punishing himself. Just like at the farm. But for what, I still had no idea.
“Harder,” his voice was ragged as his hands dug into the head of the table and I continued levelling my hands over his warm skin. Taut muscles rolled under my palm, and his neck corded tightly. And while I couldn’t see his face, I sensed he was gritting his teeth.
“Fuck, like that. More,” he rasped out. Something about the desperation in his tone spurred me on and I kneaded his shoulders harder, until my own muscles ached. The layer of ice between us, his skin and my palm, cracked with the tension and I lifted away, creating a new layer.
I’d dreamed of the day Madam Dubraire allowed me to use my powers, but I hadn’t expected this. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Time seemed to blur until a digiclock on the counter bleeped, cutting through the room.
“Fuck, that was good.” Silver Haired Guy said and I jerked back, droplets of water falling onto his skin and trailing on the floor. He twisted his body and swung his legs over the side, rubbing a brisk hand over his head. “What’d you say your name was?”
“Alora,” I croaked, my mouth dry. What was happening to me?
“You here every week?”
I nodded, rendered speechless by the hunger in his eyes. He tipped his chin and stood. “Good.”
And then he left.
~
"It went well?" Madam Dubraire said as I entered the reception area. I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"Good. You'll take Room Three from now on. Thursdays, and I need someone Sundays, if that works?"
"You want me twice a week?"
"Is that going to be a problem? I assumed you were waiting for this promotion?"
"Yes, I was… I mean, I am..." I sounded like an incoherent child. This was what I'd wanted—to use my powers instead of folding towels and stocking the therapists’ trolleys. But I couldn't stop thinking about Silver Haired Guy. The two clients after him had been friendly enough. They'd chatted idly while I massaged them, my mind elsewhere.
"It's settled then. I'll get you added onto the permanent rota."
"Thank you," I said.
"Mr Denegred has requested you going forward. I hope that won't be a problem…” Her voice trailed off and something flashed in her eyes. It wasn’t like her to not say whatever was on her mind.
“Madam Dubraire?”
Her smile slid back into place and she finished, “Mr Denegred…can be difficult.”
Mr Denegred? That his name? The other clients had introduced themselves after I introduced myself, but he hadn’t bothered. As if giving me his name was too much trouble.
"It's fine." I gave her a polite smile. "I can handle him."
Although, I had a strange feeling that after today, he was the one in full control.
Marcus
“You’re late,” Kyan growled as I dropped onto the stool beside him.
“Five minutes.”
“Still fucking late.” He pushed a bottle of beer in front of me.
“Cheers.” I stretched my neck from side to side. The chick at the Ice Spa had worked a real number on me. The other girls weren’t always so willing, but she’d complied without question. More surprisingly, I’d liked it.
Maybe a little more than I should have.
Kyan raised an eyebrow at me. “What’s up with you? You seem… I don’t know, relaxed.”
A deep rumble of laughter spilled out of me, surprising us both. “New chick at the Ice Spa.”
“Oh yeah?” His lips quirked up. “She give you more than just a massage?”
“You’re such a fucking pervert.” I shook my head. “Is it me, or does this place get more and more overrun with them?” My eyes roved over the room. Uni Bar Lorn Circuit was our usual haunt, but more and more Metas flocked here and, for as much as I tried to ignore their presence, it was difficult.
Kyan leaned in close, clutching his beer bottle to his mouth. “I fucking hate this place. The sooner I get out, the better.”
He wasn’t referring to the bar. Like me, Kyan wouldn’t be getting out a day sooner than required, but whereas he was doing time in the Complex to clear his name and get a fresh start in life, I was doing it for one reason and one reason alone.
Death.
“Human chicks, three o clock.” He flicked his head toward the door and my hardened gaze followed. “Don’t be fooled, my man,” I said. “They don’t all look different, you know.”
“Nah, they’re Human, my dick can tell.” He grabbed his junk and barked a gruff laugh. “By the galaxies, I need to get laid. It’s been too damn long.”
I twisted back to the bar, taking a long pull on my own bottle. Maybe in another time and place, I would have tried to talk to them. But I was done with all that. Had been long before I came into the Complex.
At only twenty-six, I was young compared to most Humans and Metas holed up in the domed prison we now called home, but I’d lived more than most could claim. At just twelve, I’d joined P-Extinction, the war against Metas, and when I’d returned ten years later
to Wreston, the original Human planet in the Seldova solar system, I was no longer a boy. I’d seen too much. Lived too much.
“Hey, where’d you go?” An elbow jabbed into my ribs and I growled at Kyan, but he didn’t flinch. He was used to my abrasive nature by now.
“Just remembering.” I shrugged, taking another swig of beer.
“Dangerous pastime, my friend. I’d rather forget.”
Wouldn’t we all…wouldn’t we all.
~
The sweat poured off me, running in rivulets down my abs and back, soaking my scrubs. Part of me wanted nothing more than to yank off the gray material and work shirtless, but I’d tried that once before and ended up in the Climintra (Intra for short) Enforcement offices for inappropriate behavior. And since I didn’t plan on going back there anytime soon, I put up and shut up. But it was hot. Too fucking hot.
“Marcus, bring in those buckets and empty them out,” the overseer shouted from his workstation. It reminded of a lifeguard’s tower, the ones they had back on Wreston at the public bathing pools, before the Metas turned up and everything went to shit. Except Gardener wasn’t there to save lives—he was there to ruin them, barking orders at us like we were nothing more than shit on the bottom of his boot. A permanent reminder that our lives weren’t really our own, here in the Complex.
I heaved two buckets up and walked over to the weigh-in station. Lucky for me, I had strength a lot of these guys didn’t possess. It meant I was kept on dry land rather than having to wade into the stinking fish-infested pools.
“Here.” I dropped the buckets onto the steel table and the guy checked something off on his clipboard.
“Drop them in the second bin,” he ordered, and I tipped my chin, grabbing the handles and walking over to the line of industrial sized bins. It was tedious work; the same routine day in, day out, but it paid a wage and kept me out of trouble—which was the one thing I couldn’t afford to get into in the Complex.
When the buckets were emptied, I went back to my position on the water’s edge, waiting for the fishermen to fill more of them. That would be my day for the next eight hours: carry buckets, weigh buckets, empty buckets—and repeat. I scanned the farm for Kyan. Unlike me, he worked the flora side; harvesting fruits from the various shrubs and bushes. It was women's work, really, but you didn't get too many women out here, working amongst a bunch of misfit criminals and low life’s like myself.