by Angel Lawson
I feel like a dick the instant I say it. Nevis is a slave and has been since birth. The Morrigan controls every aspect of her life, and the small part she doesn’t is in the hidden underground community she’s desperately trying to free. I reach for the nearest dress, a pale blue that has the shimmer of silver, and hold it up. “How does this look?”
“Lovely.”
Nevis insists on taming my hair, using a hot iron to straighten my normally curly locks. She braids the top part so that it pulls away from my face. I’m marveling at her skills when there’s a knock on the door.
Apprehension tickles my spine. I’m still reeling from the attack by Casteel. His behavior was vicious, and there’s no doubt he’ll be back for more once he recovers from the wound Dylan gave him.
Nevis steps forward and opens the door. Her shoulders visibly relax when she sees the courier in the hallway. He passes me an envelope stamped on the back with a wax seal. I fight the urge to laugh at the formality but it also only confirms I’m a stranger in a strange land.
I scan the card. After the courier leaves I say, “I’ve been summoned to the Morrigan’s chambers. What do you think she wants?”
“Gods only know,” she replies, bringing me a pair of soft slip-on shoes. “Just try to behave yourself, okay?”
I make a face. “I’ll do my best not to get killed before my army arrives, if that’s what you’re saying.”
Nevis smiles. “Precisely.”
The queen’s chambers are a level above mine and we pass through six different guards before we’re allowed to enter. The first two take their time searching me for weapons. I don’t blame them. Nevis had to convince me to leave the fork from breakfast on the table and not slipped into the stocking band around my thigh.
“Take your time,” I hiss at one of the soldiers as his fingers linger over my waist. “Ask Casteel what happened when he took advantage.”
The soldier freezes, turns pale, and abruptly steps away.
I’m not particularly surprised to find Anita on the other side of the double doors sitting on a plush, dark purple chair.
“Good morning, Morgan,” she says, taking a sip of steaming tea. Her own servant stands against the wall and I recognize her from underground, although her expression is blank as stone.
“Anita.” I take the seat next to her and ignore the tea.
“How did you sleep?” she asks, looking like a princess that grew up in this world. “I love these feather beds. I wish we could get something like that back home, you know?”
No. Really, I don’t.
She doesn’t stop, even though I say nothing to encourage her. “You drank like a champ last night. Should have told you the wine is stronger here. But their hangover tonic is to die for.” She smooths out the skirt on her dress. “I really should thank you for bringing me back with you.”
I fight the urge to grab her neck and snap it between my hands. Luckily, she’s saved not only by my incredible self-restraint but by the Morrigan entering the room.
She’s dressed to perfection in a black tunic and tight pants. The top is cut deep, revealing a large swath of pale, perfect skin. She looks better today than the night before and I wonder how much of the water tonic she took this morning to maintain her appearance. She sits, and her servant begins preparing her a cup of tea.
“Ah, Macha and Nemain. You both look lovely today.” Her eyes linger over me as if she’s searching for something—a crack or possibly a change of some kind. “I hope your quarters serve you well.”
“Mine are fantastic, Your Majesty.”
She smiles at Anita. “You always loved the creature comforts, dear sister.” The Morrigan takes a sip from her cup and looks at me. “And how about you, Neman? Sleep well?”
“If you mean black-out drunk, then sure.” I flash her a smile. “It was grand.”
Her eyes narrow but the expression on her face doesn’t change. “I called you here to explain the next few days. Last night was just the kick-off of our three day celebration leading up to the bonding ceremony. As you’ve seen, I’ve loaded your room with clothing and supplies to get you through a variety of events. All are optional but I suggest you take part in as many as you can. The members of my court and the citizens of my kingdom want a chance to see the women that will help me expand my reign from one world to the next.”
“You want us on display?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around the details she’s given. “Before you kill us to make yourself stronger.”
The Morrigan tilts her head. “I’m not killing you, dear Nemain. We’re fulfilling destiny. The fates have finally aligned. Anand, Macha, and Nemain all together on the full moons. We’ll join as one and prevail over many worlds.”
I open my mouth to tell her that she’s deranged. Crazy. Out of her fucking mind, but a sharp look from Nevis keeps me quiet. For now.
“I’d like to proceed as though you are not prisoners here. I want you to have full access to the castle and surrounding grounds. I’ll have an itinerary sent to your rooms so you can enjoy the festivities.” She sets her cup on the table. Her dark eyes flick between us. “Understand you will be watched, and if you do anything to disrupt my plans, I’ll shackle you in the dungeons.”
“I, for one, cannot wait to join in the celebrations,” Anita says.
“And you?” the Morrigan asks me.
“I won’t cause any trouble,” I tell her. I do not add that my guardians will do the damage for me. “In fact, I’m really eager to learn more about your kingdom. So far I’m very impressed.”
The Morrigan thrusts her hand on the table and gestures for us to do the same. Anita places hers on top of the Morrigan’s and I place mine on top of Anita’s. The Queen lays her other hand on top, sandwiching us in. A hum of energy builds between our skin, something I’ve only felt with my guardians in the heat of passion. There’s no denying the power charging between us. The current is strong, dark, and filled with a hunger and want like I’ve never experienced. It’s like a shot of adrenaline. Endorphins. The most delicious drug I’ve ever experienced. I taste it on my tongue, feel it traveling up my arms, in my fingertips and throughout my entire body.
“Together, we can be a force beyond recognition. I hope you appreciate the opportunity I’m giving you.” She lifts her hand, and like it was never there to begin with, the energy fades and immediately I miss the feeling of power coursing through my veins.
We’re dismissed, and Nevis and I walk down the stone hallway back toward my rooms. Once we’re out of earshot of the soldiers I grab her arm and say, “Take me to Bunny’s chambers. Now.”
10
Dylan
My stomach is tight with dread as we enter the building. It’s almost midnight and the earlier fights are already in process. The shouts and jeers from the crowd echo around the room and I glance back at my brothers—giving them one last chance to back out.
I’m met with three sets of determined eyes. Okay then. We’re doing this.
The walkways are bottlenecked, but once we enter as a group, eyes shift our direction. We’re not scheduled to fight tonight and rarely do we appear otherwise. I hear our name whispered through the crowd; the energy level rises significantly. They all suspect they’re in for a surprise.
Little do they know.
“The Shaman should be down by the ring,” Sam says. We break right, down the stairs and toward the ring where two female demons are in the throes of a death match.
The crowd parts, allowing us to pass. Our names are called and I hear my brothers speaking to people in the audience. I keep my eyes forward, focused. I’m not interested in friends. I’m interested in allies. It’s the only reason I’m here.
When the Shaman senses our presence he glances up, making eye contact.
“You survived the trip to the Otherside,” he says as we approach. His eyes flit over my brothers, searching for scars or wounds.
“With a little help, yes,” I say. In the ring, one demon punches the other an
d a splatter of blood lands on the mat nearby. “Morgan obviously did not make it back over.”
“She specifically asked for one-way passage. I wasn’t sure if she got it for herself or one of you.”
“You knew she was planning on staying?” Sam asks.
“She was well aware of the sacrifice she’d have to make for your safe return.” He glances at the fights on the stage. “I hear you managed to bring back a cure.”
“It’s been delivered to the proper authorities,” Clinton declares. None of us plan to reveal the source of the cure. “But hopefully the spread will end when a vaccine is made and delivered.”
Admiration shines in the Shaman’s eyes. “Your girl is tough. Follows through. I’m impressed.”
“Well,” I say, crossing my arms. “She still needs our help.”
“Which is why you’re here.”
The buzzer for the fight sounds, thankfully, as one demon has decapitated the other and continued to bash her head on the blood-soaked mat. The fight isn’t real. It’s just a fantasy, but the result is still gruesome and will require a fair amount of cleanup before the next bout.
I turn back to the Shaman. “We’re here to make you an offer.”
The Shaman’s mouth twists with interest and he leans against the stage. “I’m listening.”
Clinton steps forward. “We’re looking to buy the Legion of Immortals. We have cash, jewelry, or gold. Whichever you prefer.”
Surprise flickers in his eyes. He waits a beat and strokes the small beard on his chin. “You know money doesn’t interest me.”
Damien sighs behind me. The money and gold was a wish—one we knew he wouldn’t take. “But you’re willing to sell their contract.”
“Sell isn’t the right word. I’ll offer their contracts up as winnings.”
I fight the urge to run. This man. Making a deal with him is like courting the devil. “What do you want? Another year of our service? Tack on another decade?”
“Let’s make this interesting. If you beat the Legion of Immortals in the ring, I’ll not only give you their contract but I’ll tear up yours as well.”
“And if we lose?” Clinton asks.
“I expand your contract for another fifty years.” He pauses. “And the girl, too.”
11
Morgan
Nevis asks no questions as we hurry down the hall. The dark hole in the pit of my stomach expands as we get further away from the Morrigan.
“What was that?” I ask in a shaky voice that matches the tremor in my hands. “I mean, I know. I’ve felt it before but from far away. But up close…”
She leans in, clasps my hands and whispers, “The Darkness in the Queen is unmatchable. It’s one of the reasons she needs to bond with you. Her body is wearing down, the power is taking a toll and unlike you, she doesn’t have a harem of extraordinary beings to help balance her.”
I don’t tell her what I’m thinking. How my body already craves another hit of that raw power. I feel the tickle in the back of my throat and the twitch on my skin. We reach Bunny’s door and she knocks, though I’m impatient and desperate enough that I would’ve barged right in.
There’s movement behind the door and I tap my feet. Unable to wait a moment longer, I push past Nevis and fling open the door, just in time to find Bunny covering a painting attached to the wall with his one good hand.
“Morgan?” He wipes his hands on his paint-stained clothing. Looking me over, he frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Leave,” I direct Nevis. The words come out harsh, like my frayed nerves. “Wait outside, please.”
“Of course,” she replies and walks out the door. I close it behind her and twist the lock.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, but it’s clear he senses whatever is happening to me since the Morrigan shared her power.
“I need you, Bunny. If I’m going to make it through the next two days, I’m going to need your help.”
“I’ve been waiting for your arrival,” he says. “I’ve already told you I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
I don’t want to hear his words right now. I need to feel the heat of his body next to me. I need his yin to my yang, the white to my black before whatever the Morrigan infected me with consumes me whole.
I step forward but he holds up his hands. “Wait. I don’t know what this is but I definitely smell her on you.” He walks to his work table and grabs a paintbrush and dips it in a jar of paint. He goes to the door and from memory, paints a large symbol on the wood in black.
“What is that?”
“A symbol that will cloak our energy. The one we create when we’re together. She’s highly sensitive to it and if she knows you’re here…”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling a wave of dark nausea roll through me. “I don’t have a lot of time, Bunny.”
He comes to me quickly, good hand clenched around my waist, holding me up. I feel the shift almost instantly. The balance. What brought me to these men in the first place. His beautiful face is close to mine, his soft lips, his conflicted eyes. He won’t kiss me first. He’s waiting for permission. An order. That’s how much things have changed between us.
Another surge of darkness rocks me and I can’t wait another moment. I press my lips to his, opening my mouth and drawing his tongue inside. A counter wave rolls over me. Goodness and light—I can’t deny that is Bunny’s core. He isn’t evil. I’ve tasted that.
His hand does not move, although his fingers dig into my sides. I feel his hardness when he brushes against me. I feel his desire thudding in his chest. His lips move from my mouth down the column of my neck, edging across the expanse of my chest. My nipples harden and painfully point. My belly twists with a different, more carnal need.
This isn’t the lost soul I’ve battled with. Bunny is strong. He’s competent. He fulfills his duty like a soldier on a mission. My hands fall limp as he sucks at my neck, lathing my skin with his tongue.
Bit by bit, the Morrigan’s darkness drains from me and when I’m seconds from crawling out of my skin with want, Bunny stops, withdrawing his mouth and blowing on the spot he’d focused on so intently.
“Don’t move,” he commands, leaving me and then returning with a small pot and an ultra-thin paintbrush. I recognize the gold shimmer of paint. It’s the one he coated my body with at The Nead. With a steady hand, he quickly works over the heated mark. Standing back, he eyes his work with satisfaction.
“What is it?”
He holds up a mirror and although the paint is already fading, as well as the red of my skin, I spot the Raven Guard’s symbol. “She thinks she can have you, Morgan, but you’re already taken. That mark is just another bind to tie you to me.”
A mixture of gratefulness and fear rises in me. It’s the fear that speaks. “And what if I don’t want to be bound to you anymore? What if I kill you like the Morrigan suggests?”
Bunny pushes his glasses up his nose, but any sign of the unsure Guardian is gone. There’s no one here to back him up. He is the leader of my guard in this world. My only protector, and I realize now how much of this he planned—not to hurt me—but to end this with the Morrigan once and for all.
He gazes at my body, the one that just betrayed me so quickly and would have done anything to be closer to him. “I know I hurt you. I know the others want to skin me alive. But we’re in this together and sometimes a sacrifice has to be made. Look at the Morrigan, sweetheart. Do you not see how her court will do anything for her? Xavier gave his life. Anita will give hers, and if you push me away, she’ll take you, too. Everything about this world is a sacrifice. I’m just the only one willing to admit it.”
“So you’re saying all of this was for me. The mind-games and torture in the dungeons? Dividing everyone?” I shake my head, still unable to forgive like Nevis wants me to. “I think you just like pain, Bunny. You like taking it from me and inflicting it on yourself and everyone in your life.”
His jaw tenses. “You’re wrong
. Open your eyes, Morgan. This is war, it isn’t pretty and it sure as hell isn’t without regret.”
I hate the fact I taste him on my mouth. That I need him so desperately to survive the next few days. But I remember the wounds on Clinton’s back. The way Sam’s eyes were clouded and close to death. For them, I will work with Bunny, and for them, I will keep him at arm’s length.
“Come back when you need me. I’ll be here,” he says as I spin on my heel and head to the door. Nevis waits on the other side; whatever she hoped would transpire in the studio falls from her face the instant she sees us.
I catch a glimpse of Bunny’s face as I start down the stairs. I expect to see anger or even a little bit of hate, but I don’t. I only see resolve and the smallest quirk on his lips. I throw a vulgar gesture his way and head back to my rooms.
12
Clinton
“No,” we all four say at once. Dylan shoots us a look and controls his rage. “Keep Morgan out of it.”
The Shaman shrugs. Cleaners scrub down the mats so the fights can continue in a moment—if we get our way, we’ll be up next. But right now the bargain is too high and the bastard knows it. “That’s my deal. No offense, but without your full line-up, you’re asking me for six warriors for the price of four.”
“We can sign for Bunny,” Sam says. “Five of the Raven Guard for six Immortals? Seems like a fair trade.”
The Shaman laughs, his teeth white against his dark skin. Rings glint on his fingers. “You take me for a fool. Add in the girl and I’m game.”
I grit my teeth. “Without the Legion, there may be no girl to return.”
He waves his hands like it’s no concern. I look to the others. There is no way we can barter with Morgan’s life—her freedom. We’re bound to protect her. And serve her. Not the other way around.
“I guess we come up with another plan,” Sam says. Anger mingled with defeat sparks behind his green eyes. We were so close to a solution. And so very close to running out of time.