“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.
“Funny,” Rasimus commented in his deep, sexy, raspy voice.
Ugh, don’t think that! she chastised herself. “Just a moment ago you were more than welcoming my touch.”
Harlow flushed but pursed her lips. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was Arian.”
He rolled his eyes. “No you didn’t. You thought it was Oricus. I heard you moan his name.”
The dream flashed through her mind again, still fresh, and so vivid she could have sworn it was real. Was it just a dream, or a vision of the future? She recalled what he’d said about Arian killing her parents, and a fresh wave of anger swept through her.
“If I’d moaned Oricus’s name—which is highly unlikely—why did you keep going?” she asked in a defensive manner. It was difficult to look indifferent when she was chained up in a cell.
Rasimus’s dark eyes flashed with a silver light while his lips twisted up in a smirk. “We’ll be sharing you for a long time to come, pet. I desire your arousal no matter how it comes to be.”
Harlow frowned. “So you don’t care at all that you’re just one of twelve guys on rotation?”
He shifted forward, leaning on his fist, which came to rest beside her thigh. Warmth bloomed low in her belly.
“I’m one of the men that will keep you thoroughly fucked and protected. Make no mistake, when you’re in my bed it’s my name you’ll be screaming for the others to hear.”
Her clit throbbed at his words.
Rasimus’s nostrils flared, scenting the muggy air before he dove toward her. A shriek caught in her throat as he shoved her back onto the mattress, his body moving above her, caging her in.
“No,” she whimpered weakly as she put her hands on his chest. The assortment of holstered weapons strapped across it bit into her palms.
His large hand cupped her breast, kneading it, and the throbbing between her thighs increased. Her entire body was hot as his hand skimmed down the glittery white fabric—now stained with dirt and blood—at her waist, before brushing the inside of her leg, so close to her needy apex. She trembled, fighting against the growing desire until she thought she might burst.
Leaning down, he nipped at her neck, drawing a strangled cry from her lips. His touch ran down to just above her knee at the hem of her dress. Harlow gasped when he slid his hand under it. His warm, calloused fingers trailed back up, hungry for the feel of her. He didn’t give her any time to comprehend what was coming before his thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core, making her back arch.
He rubbed slow, torturous circles while his tongue and teeth worked on her throat, her shoulder, her chest, trailing down to the swell of her breasts. Harlow knotted her fingers in his long black curls.
“You’re a fucking monster,” she groaned, the words more for herself than anyone else. Lust overrode her hatred and shame. She came alive; each caress sent sparks through her veins.
Rasimus bit harder, and she swore he drew blood. He hissed when she dug her nails into his back, hoping she could hurt him too.
“What a wicked creature you are, pet,” he said with a chuckle. His tongue ran over the bite, and she stilled.
“Wait.” Panic filled her. “Did you make me bleed?”
His answering growl was all she needed. She knew what came next. Once the Marked male tasted the female’s blood he became frenzied with the need to fuck her. She pushed and shoved, trying to bring her knee up between his legs, but he pinned her easily. When his eyes met hers, they were pulsing, churning silver, and heat poured off him.
He shuddered, eyes squeezing closed while his chest heaved with deep, raspy breaths. The leash he kept on his beast was threatening to snap. And she sure as shit didn’t want to be underneath him when it happened.
His fingers rubbed her aching clit harder, and she moaned. “Do not fucking beast out on me, you dickhead,” she complained, but her voice was breathy.
Her hips rolled in time with his movements. One quick jerk and he tore her panties off, tossing them over his shoulder.
Then he slipped a finger inside her slick heat and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. “Is this familiar, pet?” he asked.
“Fuck you,” she panted.
He slipped another finger inside, and this time she whimpered audibly. “I can’t wait to taste this cunt.” His accent was suddenly thick and harsh. Harlow realized it was partially because his canines had fully lengthened, making him look like a roguish vampire.
Without warning, he slid his fingers out. Grabbing the ruffled bottom of her dress with both hands, he pushed it up around her waist and dove down, his mouth hot on her swollen pussy. She tugged on his hair, earning a growl from the brute between her thighs. He licked her slit, lapping up her juices, then focused on her nub again.
Harlow writhed, undulating against his assault, chasing her climax higher and higher.
“Cum on my tongue, pet,” Rasimus ordered.
She tried to resist, to disobey just to spite him, but he was too fucking good. Her back bowed off the mattress and she screamed, a violent torrent of ecstasy erupting through her. All she heard was her pulse thundering in her ears as she rode the high down in her dingy cell.
Rasimus sat back on his heels and licked his glistening lips, avoiding the sharp distended points peeking between them. He stared down at her like he wanted nothing more than to free his thick, throbbing cock from his black trousers. Which she was totally not staring at.
When he spoke, the grating words were not in English. The veins on his forearms were more pronounced, his hands clamped into tight fists.
Slowly, he got to his feet and stalked to the door.
“You’re just going to leave?” she blurted out before she could stop herself, and instantly wished she could snatch back the words and burn them away to nothing. Readjusting her dress, she suddenly longed for a hot shower.
He halted, turning at the waist, and levelled her with an intense silver stare. “There is nothing that I want more than to fuck you right here, right now. Are you saying you’re ready for all of us?”
Harlow’s brows slammed down, the fire doused. “Not going to happen. Ever. But thanks for the orgasm.” She kept her tone light, forcing herself to feel powerful for commanding such a man as him to eat her pussy but deny him what he truly wanted. She’d take and take from all of these men, but never would she bind herself to them. Death would claim her first.
“Make no mistake, pet: that was the last time I’ll taste you and make you cum without putting my cock inside you. The next time I make you cum, you’ll feel me pounding your pussy and leaving my mark on that fine porcelain skin of yours.”
She lay back, arms stretched above her head, and sighed. “Well at least I’ll get eleven more orgasms before I figure out how to bust out of here. It’s been fun, Ras. Now get the fuck out unless you’re going to offer me a shower.”
He snorted, amused by her petulant attitude. “I’ll send the servants down to bathe you.”
Down. So she was in the basement, lower than her room had been? Knowing that they were in a castle, it shouldn’t surprise her that there were dungeons.
Rasimus left without another word. And after several hours of her pointlessly staring at the ceiling, the door opened once more. Emuria and Jezzebelle strode in, one of them carrying a long black metal box while the other towels, linens, and what looked like normal clothes.
Emuria set the box on the floor and pressed the matching silver latches. The box spun open, the bottom only a wide metal frame. A rod attached to it shot up, unfolding and snapping into what looked like a showerhead. Harlow gawked at it, forgetting that Scondelade was the land of invention and innovation.
“Hurry, dear,” her friend said, looking her over with pity in her eyes. “Let’s get you washed up.”
For a moment Harlow hoped they’d undo the lock on her manacles, but instead she simply tore the gow
n off, splitting it in two. She never wanted to see the damned thing again. As she slid it down her naked body, her cheeks flamed at the sight of her torn panties discarded just out of reach.
Fortunately for her, neither girl seemed to notice. Emuria turned on the faucet and water cascaded down, splashing against the stone floor. She pressed a button on the single rod and a clear shower curtain descended from the top ring. The water pelted the back of the curtain, all of it seeming to be vacuumed off the floor by the square frame that held it upright.
“Where is the water coming from?” Harlow peered around for a water pipe or an attached tank, but there was nothing.
The two servants looked at her with bemused expressions. “It makes water itself, dearie. Using the particles in the air,” Emuria said.
Harlow blinked, but Jezzebelle simply pushed her toward the shower, pulling the curtain aside. Stepping under the hot spray, Harlow groaned. The chain that kept her leashed inside the room barely allowed her in the cubicle. She had to lean her head back to soak her hair, but after days of not bathing, the grime and stress seemed to run off her. Emuria poked her head in and started to lather Harlow’s hair with foamy soap, massaging her scalp. It relaxed her.
“Rinse,” Emuria ordered. Harlow obeyed, watching the sudsy water vanish, leaving only the odd bubble on the damp floor.
Emuria handed her a bar of her favorite honey and lavender soap and Harlow did her best washing herself despite the handicap of her bound hands. When she was clean and pleasantly warmed, the water shut off and the curtain drew up over her head, rolling back inside the metal frame.
“That would have been so useful for camping,” she murmured in awe. But the two women didn’t respond, simply bustling around the room, helping her pull the poncho-style sweater over her head, tying the sides beneath her arms. It was warm and actually cute. No doubt a creation made by Emuria herself.
They replaced the sheet on her bed as well as the duvet with one that was noticeably thicker, though the room wasn’t nearly as cold as her previous one had been mere days ago. Before her maids left a knock came from the door, too dainty to be from her men, and she’d have known if they were close. Emuria opened the door and a young girl strode in, carrying a tray with food inside. She was thin and her arms were mottled with green, yellow, and purple bruises.
Harlow sucked in a sharp breath, making the poor girl jump. Jezzebelle and Emuria took in the girl as well, though neither looked surprised.
“Are you okay?” Harlow asked the girl, but her head remained bowed the entire time she set the tray on the edge of the bed.
“What the hell,” Harlow muttered when the girl had left.
“She doesn’t speak your language,” Emuria explained. “And her bruises come from her vowed. The master had him strung up just this morning when he walked in on the man beating poor Lillivay.”
Harlow’s head snapped around to look at Emuria. “Oricus did?”
A small smile played on Emuria’s lips. “Of course. Master doesn’t take kindly to men beating their women. Before…” She paused. “When the master’s father was alive, he stripped women of all their rights, lowering us to little more than slaves. He was a cruel man. But Master is working to undo all of that. He says women should be allowed to fight in the militia if we want. And he pays us handsomely.”
Harlow sat on the bed, beside the tray, stunned. Arian had told her stories about Oricus. How he abused women and trafficked them, selling them as slaves. And yet he fought for women’s rights on his own planet?”
Choosing to hold her tongue on the matter, she smiled at the women. “You deserve to be paid well. Thank you, ladies, for your help. I feel much better.”
Jezzebelle didn’t say a word heading out. Emuria paused in the doorway, looking back at Harlow after the other girl had gone. “He’s a good man, you know. Harsh, maybe, but they’re all good men. I don’t know why he keeps you in here, but I know he wouldn’t do so unless it was absolutely necessary.”
Harlow’s spine turned to steel, her smile vanishing. “That’s all, Emuria.”
Bowing her head, Emuria pulled the door closed.
Harlow sighed heavily. If the girl knew half of what her precious master had done to destroy her and Arian, she’d sing a different tune. If she was smart, she’d run far away from such a man.
Because though he looked like a man and talked like a man, he was still a monster inside. Cold, ugly, and ruthless. He could go around doing kind things for others to assuage his guilt, but he’d never earn Harlow’s respect.
She drank the cup filled with water and left the rest of the tray untouched before curling up at the other end. Though she doubted it was anywhere near nighttime, she found her eyelids growing heavy and she sank back into blissful sleep.
And this time, her nightmares stayed away.
ORICUS
He stood looking out the window at the ships hovering in the sky. During Lunvet, patrol ships used their floodlights to make the unending night more bearable, but the ones painted to match the night sky didn’t escape his notice. They held soldiers.
Onoliza was gearing up for war.
His contacts on Earth were on high alert, though he knew the humans even with their technologies were far from capable of detecting alien ships. They’d die without a fight. None of their missiles or nukes would save them. He would need to stop the armies from arriving, or at least slow their attack.
He’d sent Geoff, the most capable of disarming an entire ship and the stealthiest of his men by far. For now, he could only wait for his brother to return. He paced the corridor outside Harlow’s chambers, telling himself not to enter. He’d give her body whatever she craved, but he knew himself. He wouldn’t be able to stop. Not after so much time had passed. With Slevana, he’d managed a week before he’d completed the Mark.
Harlow was in his blood, invading his every cell with all that she was. And it was getting harder and harder to fight against. She was meant to be revenge. He was supposed to hate her. So why the fuck did he feel so fucking shitty for locking her up, taking away her magic, and torturing her by sending Rasimus to make her beg for more?
Part of him longed to see her look at him again with something akin to trust in her eyes. He would see that again, he assured himself. And whether or not she’s ready, I will claim her before the battle. Going to war with an unclaimed mate was suicide for him and his men. Especially now with those wolves Onoliza kept like killer dogs. Even if he had to fucking drug Harlow or have Rex cast some spell on her, he would have her, and soon. His patience was beyond extended.
“The maid said she took Harlow dinner last night and she didn’t touch it. Or the tray for her breakfast.” Tadaj leaned casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Still so sure that this is the best way? Seems to me she’d rather starve herself than play whatever game it is that you think you’re playing with her.”
Oricus turned on his heel, away from the infuriating sight just outside his window. “If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it,” he snapped. “She’s trying to prove a point. She thinks she’s punishing me by not eating. Miss Marks forgets that she is immortal. Starving herself won’t kill her, it’ll just hurt, and she’ll be too sluggish to fight any of us off. Once that becomes clear, she’ll happily eat whatever food I allow into her cell. Tell the cook to stop preparing meals for her. We’ll see if by tomorrow she’s done throwing her tantrum.”
Tadaj’s eyes flared with anger, keeping in step with Oricus. “You’re a fucking asshole. You know that?”
Oricus sighed, bored with the direction of the conversation. “As if I’ve not been told that a million times before.”
“When your way doesn’t work, how about we try it my way, eh? Give her back her room, her bed. Some freedom. All of us are going to be stretched too thin as it is, feeling her pain and knowing she’s just sitting down there hating our guts.”
Oricus bit out a dark laugh before rushing int
o Tadaj’s face. “Aw, are you in love with her?” he sneered, then drew back. “What did you think stealing someone else’s Marked was going to get you? A thankful, relieved female happy to spread her thighs at the earliest opportunity? If that’s what you thought, then you don’t know her at all.”
“I know her as well as you’ve let me,” Tadaj hissed back. “Arian needed to be knocked down a few hundred pegs, and if stealing his girl was the price, then I’d happily pay it a thousand times over for what he did to all of us. But yes, I do love her and so do you in your own sick, twisted way. I intend to treat her like my one true mate, as you should. This bond isn’t just going to go away and it’s not like we can fuck other women. She’s ours now, in every sense of the word.”
“I know that,” Oricus said through gritted teeth. “Why do you think I’m keeping her locked up in the crypt where only a handful of people know where the entrance is? She’s safe there. Away from the bitch’s minions. Away from the hell that is about to rain down outside!”
Tadaj cocked his head to the side. “Am I right? Do you love her?”
“Don’t be fucking wet,” Oricus snarled. “The bond will force me to protect her and to desire her, but that’s where it ends.”
His brother shook his head, the mess of dark curls tied at the back of his head swaying side to side. He lowered his voice, eyes penetrating Oricus’s carefully crafted façade. “You know as well as I do that the bond will only keep you from being unfaithful. It might heighten your feelings. But the desire to fuck her and protect her came long before she was yours. We all saw it taking shape. We felt it too. That’s why we so readily demanded to share her. This wasn’t just some vendetta against Dominicus, though that’s certainly part of it. Most of us trailed her. Watched her. Looked over her while she slept. It’s not wet to care for her, Brother. Remember that.”
Tadaj stalked out while Oricus’s lip curled. The woman was a blight on him and his men. His plan to pass her around like some doll had gone out the window the moment her beautiful, supple body lay within the walls of his castle. When her eyes opened and she took them all in, unhindered by the hatred Arian placed inside her, everything had shifted. The bond was part of it, but most of his men already knew her.
Chained to Darkness Page 23