by Queen, Nyna
“He’s been torturing and murdering the Jester only knows how many of my kind,” she snapped. “I believe that gives me the superior claim to him.”
Darken cocked his head to the side, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate purr that always produced a shiver along her arms. “That’s my feisty little spider. But I believe helping you at least earned me the right to share.”
With a mischievous smile, Alex bent forward until their lips were so close they were almost touching. “And if I’m good and share, what do I get?”
There was a slightly distressed cough. They both looked up, startled.
Stephane was staring at them over the rim of his coffee mug, mouth slightly agape.
Damn! Alex had totally forgotten that he was still in the room. Her cheeks turned hotter than fire. How could she have forgotten?
Stephane closed his mouth with a click. After a moment of awkward silence, he cleared his throat again, not quite looking at either of them.
“I … hrhm … I believe I should return to the townhouse. It’s quite late and … uhm … Edalyne has been in a right state after Edward … well, you know … right state…” He was studying his mug so intensely you were expecting it to do some kind of trick. “I should be looking after her, but … hrhm … there really is no need for you to come with me. No need at all. I … uhm … yes, I think it’s probably best if you stayed here for the night … give everyone a chance to calm down…”
He cumbersomely put his mug on the table and rubbed his hands on the legs of his pants. “I don’t suppose there’s anything more we can accomplish here tonight, anyway. Might as well get some well-needed sleep.”
Getting to his feet, he finally cast Darken a small glance. “I should be safe enough with the guards, and I’ll send Hector tomorrow morning to pick you up.” It was worded like a statement, but it sounded more like a question.
Darken’s face showed no sign of any perceived double entendre. “I do appreciate the suggestion, brother. Sounds like a reasonable course of action to me.”
Stephane gave the tiniest of nods, crossed the room with measured steps, and left the parlor. Less than two seconds later, Alex heard the front door fall shut.
She looked at Darken, and a slow grin spread on her face that was mirrored on his.
“Well, sugar,” she drawled, “it would appear we haven’t been quite as subtle about … us as we’d planned.”
The corner of Darken’s mouth twitched. “It would certainly appear so.”
Alex propped her hip against the armrest of his chair. “So, what are we going to do with all of our newfound freedom?”
Without forewarning, Darken grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down on top of him in the armchair. Alex’s heart flipped in her chest, lightning racing along every nerve fibre. Darken reached up and gently brushed her hair behind her ear, running his thumb along her jaw and over her lips, before cupping the back of her head and drawing her in for a long, lazy kiss. The warmth of his breath touched her mouth, and Alex didn’t hesitate to part her lips for him. His taste exploded in her mouth, reckless and fierce and intoxicating, like spiced wine and fire and wild adventures under the endless night sky.
The cold, tense knot that had built inside her chest during the last hour melted away, leaving behind nothing but heat and desire.
They broke apart slowly, the space between them crackling with heated energy. Alex braced her hands on Darken’s chest, slightly dizzy. Darken’s smile was the epitome of male smugness. Something hot and hard pressed between her legs, and she gasped. His smile widened, turning roguish.
“I can think of something.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DARKEN opened his eyes.
The soft glow of dawn suffused his bedroom with a silver light, casting a delicate, glassy sheen on everything around him as if the world itself were only just slowly waking up from sleep.
The room lay completely silent, except for the soft sound of even breathing beside him.
Darken slowly turned his head. Next to him, Alex was tangled up in the sheets, her body half-submerged in the dark, satiny covers, the soft veil of her pale blond hair fanning her face like a cloud of freshly fallen snow. Almost too beautiful to be true.
For a while, Darken did nothing but simply stare at her.
She was here. In his room. In his bed. It seemed impossible that it could be real. Impossible that she could really want him—a Forfeit.
And yet here she was, snuggled up to his side. He felt her shape molded to his beneath the blankets, smelled the alluring scent of her hair and skin, but somehow his heart was anxious to believe what his senses were telling him so clearly.
Darken watched her for a long time, lost in the quiet amazement of her presence, almost waiting for the world to catch up. Waiting for her to evaporate like a snowflake he’d once caught on his palm, resting there for a short, breathtaking instant, but bound to dissolve from the heat of his touch. Nothing but a wistful dream conjured by his most secret desires.
Minutes passed, transforming the world’s dress from silver to gold, and Alex was still there.
Mine. A small smile played on Darken’s lips. My Alex.
He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, enjoying the simple pleasure of that innocent touch, and let his head sink back into the pillow, his eyes scouring the ceiling where shadows and shapes danced along the white paint, fighting battles and holding court—an entirely different world cast from dreams and fantasies. A world he’d dived into as a boy at the Order whenever reality became too much to bear.
He’d dreamed up a life in the shadows, a real life with family and friends and silly little things like barbecues and summer walks and romantic picnics at dawn while watching the sun rise over the surf of an open sea, knowing that being what he was, these ordinary things were forever beyond his reach.
His life wasn’t his to command. To believe he could wiggle free enough of the Order’s chains to have some kind of real life with Alex was a boyish dream. But the man in him… Oh, the man wanted it with just the same feverish longing.
Darken suddenly realized it was a tad too quiet in the room.
He raised his head, half alarmed, to find Alex awake beside him, looking at him with those big, blue eyes. Like gazing into a night-frosted lake touched by the rays of the morning sun. Bright. Startling. Mysterious. Beauty tinted with a hint of subtle danger.
He slowly let his gaze travel over her face, intent to memorize every little part of it: the curve of her slim, dark eyebrows, the bold line of her jaw, the cut of her cheekbones, the flutter of her long lashes fanning her cheeks…
A small, hesitant grin curved Alex’s lips, half game, half worry. “What?”
“Am I dreaming?”
Her sensuous lips pursed with mischief. “That depends. Do you want this to be a dream?”
“If this is a dream, I never want to wake up again.”
Alex rolled over until she was leaning over him, the silky tips of her white-blond hair tickling his bare chest. Her mouth bent close to his ear. “Wish granted.”
She tilted her head up and her lips brushed his, soft, warm and inviting. The kiss was chaste, almost innocent, a sweet promise that roused his heart from a long, lonely sleep.
When she pulled back, Darken caught the back of her neck with one hand and kissed her back—yet there was nothing chaste about it. It was a deep, lingering kiss filled with painful desire and years of longing, imbued with a fervent need for salvation. He held nothing back, letting her know exactly what he was feeling inside.
Alex gasped against his mouth and grabbed his shoulders, grinding against him in a way that made a man lose all his senses. With a low growl, he clutched her tighter and kissed her again, hard and possessive, daring her to do something about it.
She melted against him. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and played with his, teasing, taunting, inviting him to chase her. Eagerly taking the invitation, Darken wrapped his arms around her lower
back and pulled her against him, kissing her throat, her jaw, her cheeks, while his fingers explored her body, painting heat all over her skin. He drew a line up her spine to where in her true skin that subtle cross-marking would be. Alex moaned and arched her back, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades.
Darken grinned. Sweet Jester, he’d kill to get that sound out of her again. He’d do whatever it took to make her happy.
Need flooded his body, sharp and rapid. He felt himself rise and swell and the way Alex suddenly stiffened in his arms told him that she felt it as well.
She braced her hands on his chest, leaning back a little and giving him a wicked grin through her lashes. “Didn’t you get enough last night?”
Darken smiled and ran a finger from her chin along her throat and down her shoulder, making her shiver under his touch. “I don’t think I will ever get enough of this.”
Alex pursed her lips. “I must warn you then, sugar. I’m a shaper. We have very high endurance. You might not be able to keep up.”
Darken bared his teeth, somewhere between a grin and a growl. “Try me.”
Alex laughed, lightly tossing her head back. Darken used the chance to fasten his mouth to her exposed throat, leaving a trail of delicate butterfly kisses down toward that sweet spot right above her collarbone. Holding her in place with his teeth, he licked the sensitive skin, enjoying the little tremors running through her as he did so.
With one quick movement, he reached over and pulled her on top of him, so that she was straddling him. Among Forfeits, it wasn’t a preferred position for sex, although they often had to submit to it, at least if they were being restrained for the game at one of the Order’s convents. Sex was about power, about domination. About satisfying their need for release. Being the one on their back was a submissive position, giving the other party control while their deadly nature drove them to dominate, to exert power over their victims—the power over a living body almost as sweet as the power over a life itself. Darken, too, was no exception to that rule.
But with Alex, everything was different. He wanted to possess her and be possessed, to dominate and be dominated. He wanted to surrender every fiber of his being to her. Wanted to give her everything that was in his power to offer.
The vis-aural emitter in his adjoining workroom let out a series of chimes, signaling an incoming call.
An irritated snarl ripped from Darken’s throat. Mother’s mercy and Jester’s grace, was it really too much to ask for a damn moment of peace?
Alex squirmed on top of him, trying to shift off him, but Darken pinned her in place with both hands, irises flaring red.
She arched an amused eyebrow at him, not the least bit intimidated. “Aren’t you gonna take the call?”
“No,” Darken snapped, his deep voice hoarse with desire. “Whoever it is, he can call back later.”
Alex bent forward and nicked his ear with her teeth. “You should go answer it, sugar. What if it is your brother?”
“I don’t care!”
Alex grinned before a hint of worry furrowed her brow. “What if it is something important? It could have something to do with Debayne…”
Darken dropped his hands from her sides and sighed. “Since when are you the reasonable one?”
“Because one of us has to be, and you obviously don’t intend to be that one.” She gave him a sly wink.
Darken growled. He’d said exactly the same thing to her up in Duncan’s Teeth. He needed to be more careful with what he said to her.
Alex playfully smacked his chest and rolled off him, stretching out on the covers next to him, supporting her head with one hand. It was a completely natural movement and as such, it couldn’t have been more painfully seductive. Sweet Jester, she was beautiful. Darken let his eyes glide over her exposed curves and hot desire returned instantly, pushing all reasonable thoughts into the background. His brother could go to hell!
When he reached for her, Alex laughed and slapped his fingers, nudging his leg with one foot. “Go! I’ll still be here when you come back.”
With a beaten growl, Darken slipped off the bed and swiped up his silken gray boxer shorts.
He pointed a finger at Alex. “Don’t move. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Her silvery laughter followed him all the way into the workroom.
Cold air assaulted his burning-hot skin as he entered the other room. The vis-a on the desk was still blinking madly, flashing bright blue. Whoever was trying to reach him, he was quite intent on it. It usually promised nothing good.
Bracing himself, Darken activated the emitter with a spark of his magic. Fully expecting to see Stephane, Darken blinked in surprise when it was Belaris’ face that appeared above the holographic projector. Surely he couldn’t have finished his research yet? Well, at least it wasn’t Steph calling with bad news about Debayne. He’d count his blessings.
The connection crackled, dissolving a little before becoming sharp again.
Darken grinned at his friend. “I hope this is important, bro, because there is a spider in my bedroom that solicits my complete attention.”
Belaris didn’t return the grin. It was then that Darken noticed the dark circles hugging his friend’s eyes, the tight, haunted look on his face. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose and cold splashed against his skin in a dark, terrible wave of foreboding. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
“What happened?”
Belaris’ face twisted into a tormented expression. “They’ve put you on the blacklist.” A short pause. “I’m sorry, man.”
An icy dagger pierced Darken’s chest, killing the fire that had burned there only moments ago. Leaning back his head, he closed his eyes and swore viciously under his breath.
Why? His hands clutched the edge of the desk so tightly that the wood began to splinter. Why now when finally something good was happening in his life? How could this be happening?
Exhaling slowly, he forced his hands to unclench and opened his eyes. To his own surprise, when he spoke, his voice came out completely flat.
“On what grounds?”
Belaris grimaced. “The usual. You’ve gone postal and are an out of control psycho killing machine that is a danger to every walking, breathing soul in this country and needs to be eliminated at first sight.” He hesitated. “They seem rather afraid of you, too. Taking you out is a priority one mission.”
A priority one mission, huh? They must really want him dead badly. But why now? They had always wanted him out of the way. Why go through with it now all of sudden, and in such a furtive way? What had—?
Maria Carvalis! Darken squeezed his eyes shut. “They know I was at the prison camp, don’t they?” he whispered. Nothing else made sense. “They probably also think I was the one who breached the secret files.”
Belaris nodded, his image flickering again. “It would seem the only logical explanation.” He sniffled. “Although, personally I think they overestimate your hacking abilities.” His feeble attempt at humor lasted only for a heartbeat before his expression became grim again. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
Darken pressed his fingers against the cracks on the wooden surface of the desk. “If that’s true, we’ve underestimated the Master. If his reach is so long that he can command the Order for his purposes…”
His thoughts raced like galloping horses. They knew that he was on their tail, and now they wanted to silence him before he could reveal his findings to the public. Quickly and without creating a stir. It was also a less than subtle message to Stephane.
Darken had to admit using the Order as a means to get rid of him was an elegant way, making this an entirely internal affair, not giving him any chance to plead his case to the authorities. They went about it quite cleverly, too, he gave them that. If they had called him back to the Order now, so shortly after he’d visited the prison camp, he would have most definitely become suspicious. No, instead they just quietly added his name to the hit list, hoping to
catch him off guard and do away with him before he even knew that he was being hunted. The only thing they hadn’t bargained for was Belaris warning him.
Yet, if Belaris knew…
Darken studied his friend, the sharp, pained lines around his eyes, the tense bulge of his jaw. His innards turned to ice. “They’ve assigned you, haven’t they?”
Belaris met his eyes, and Darken knew the answer before he spoke it.
“Yes. They have.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DARKEN stared at Belaris, completely shell-shocked, trying to make sense of his words, yet at the same time unable to accept them.
Belaris snorted. It was a bitter sound, full of pain and hatred. “I think it’s a pretty safe guess I was the first one they’ve approached with this matter. They’d so get off on me being the one to finish you.”
Oh yes, they would. It wasn’t a secret that he and Belaris were friends and even less of a secret that it had never sat well with the Order’s superiors. Another annoying little thorn in their flesh. Forfeits weren’t supposed to have friends or family. Their only devotion and loyalty was supposed to be to state and country.
What better way to discourage other Forfeits from walking the same path than having the friend kill the friend? If Belaris were the one to finish him on an Order assignment, it would be the ultimate betrayal, sending a clear signal to the others: whatever friendship they might consider having with each other, it ended where the loyalty to the Order began.
Their final triumph against Darken’s yearslong silent resistance.
The thought left a bitter taste on Darken’s tongue, but his resentment was directed at the Order, not at Belaris. It wasn’t like Belaris had a choice in the matter. Like any of them had a choice. They were all prisoners, bound by an invisible chain that was put upon them at birth with the laws of their caste. Obedience was their supreme rule. Any disobedience resulted in permanent retirement—at the bottom of a cold, unmarked grave.