Hearts of Darkness: A Valentine's Day Bully Romance Collection

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  Although my eyes are closed, and anyone might simply think I am asleep, they also might not. If the footsteps belong to a witch like the one who was forced to bind our powers, they might even recognize the use of magic, and rat me out. I can’t risk anyone catching me mind-speaking to my sister.

  Misty relays the information quickly, and then we say our goodbyes. When our connection breaks, I immediately miss her.

  It will be a long three weeks.

  10.

  Talon

  I devise a two-pronged approach to fulfilling Father’s wishes.

  Firstly, I work to convince Skye that I’m entertaining her beliefs. I do so by gathering citizens of my kingdom, sitting with them one by one, and talking as if their opinions matter as much as my own.

  And secondly, aside from a respectful nod of the head when we pass one another in the halls, I ignore Skye Borges.

  After only a day, things are going smoothly. I’ve caught her watching me, her eyes narrowed, as she wonders what I’m up to. Twice, she’s approached those who I have just spoken with, and converses with them herself.

  But she is most interested when I pull aside the shifter I’d been handling the other day. Since her interest is what I want, I intend to prolong the conversation as much as possible—even if it bores me to death.

  “Tell me of your pack, Samuel.”

  The shifter has been sitting with me for five minutes already, and yet he has not calmed in the slightest. His body trembles, and his eyes dart from side-to-side, as if he is sure that, at any minute, I will reach across the table, and grasp him by the neck again.

  I have no intention of doing anything of the sort, unless he makes a scene in front of Skye. He isn’t worth the effort.

  “Yes, My Prince.” Samuel’s voice trembles as he speaks my title.

  Everyone here uses the title—except for Skye. It’s yet another reminder that she considers herself on my level. Her defiance is frustrating, and leads credence to the wisdom of Father’s plan.

  It also makes me even more interested in her.

  A cold February breeze wafts through a window that one of the cafeteria workers opened after someone burnt the gruel they serve. The fresh air reaches my nostrils, and I catch honey and hyacinth on the winds.

  My eyes dart to the side. Skye has moved from the serving line to a table.

  Her eyes sear into me, and I smirk. This witch is as interested in me as I am in her.

  Not wanting to appear as if I’m not listening, in case Skye questions Samuel later, I turned my attention back to the shifter.

  “Being a small pack, we don’t have our own property. The northern mountains of Old Colorado are where we roam.”

  While I’ve been watching the witch, Samuel’s tone has smoothed. Talking about his people allows him to relax a little.

  “How do you find yourself here? What sort of laws could one break in such wild woods?”

  The mountains of Old Colorado are barren, save for small mountain towns like the one outside the prison. It is why my family had Supernatural Penitentiary #7 built here. Well, that and the nature-made obstacles are so great that they hinder escape.

  Samuel shifts in his seat as a look of discomfort crosses his face. “Not much, My Prince. However, I managed.”

  He guards his words, as though he does not want to tell me what he did. But now I am curious.

  “Well, tell me.” I lean back in my chair, giving him space to speak his mind.

  “If My Prince wishes—it’s just that . . . It involves your royal family.”

  Aren’t we always involved?

  “As you know, inside the walls of this penitentiary, the royal seal holds little power.” I shrug. “Plus, I am bored. Whether your words incriminate my family deservedly does not matter. We have heard worse, I assure you.”

  Samuel gulps and nods. “Okay . . . You see, My Prince, our pack has recently had its first litter of shifters in over two years.”

  I cock my head. Two years? I’m no expert on shifter mating cycles, but I know that they’re typically yearly.

  “Do you only have one female in your wolf pack?” I ask. If his pack is small with only one female, perhaps she attempted to mate the previous year, and could not bear young.

  Samuel shakes his head. “I'm unsure of the exact number, but there are at least an equal number of males to females. Our pack is about fifty wolves strong.”

  Twenty-five females failed to breed for two years, with only one exception? That is astounding.

  “During winter in the Rockies, food is scarce, so many females are often below a healthy weight to conceive.”

  My lips form a thin line. I have a hunch as to where this is going.

  “Proceed.”

  Samuel’s eyes tell me he wishes he did not have to follow my orders. “By some miracle, a female got pregnant and carried an entire litter to term. But when the babies were born, they were all small. Too small.” Samuel casts a glance around as if someone will come and save him from the conversation.

  But everyone in the cafeteria is averting their eyes, trying not to draw my attention. Only Skye Borges watches the interaction.

  I catch her gaze, and my lips tilt up in a sly smile.

  She purses her lips and goes back to her food.

  I chuckle. The witch is dead set on figuring me out. Unfortunately, she’ll have little luck; although, in a way, it feels nice to be the object of such intense attention. In the palaces, I’m often looked over when my siblings and Father are present.

  “The pups weren’t mine, but I couldn’t bear to see them starve. Everyone in the pack besides the mother and father traveled down the mountains in search of food. I stumbled across a village, one we had believed to have been evacuated. There was smoke coming from the chimneys, though, so I knew people were there.”

  His cheeks grow red, and guilt flashes in his eyes. “The winter was early, but already hard, and I was sure the villagers wouldn’t want to share their food. But I was desperate to feed the pups. I broke into a cottage and went straight for the larder. I raided it, and nearly escaped with a sack full of goods, when the owner came home.”

  Samuel’s eyes shift to me. “It was a vampire, the king’s older sister, Head Marshal Angelica. She was in the area looking for a fugitive, and had brought blood slaves along with her. I had been stealing from their nourishment, and hence, from her. And as a thief who dared to steal from the royal family, I deserve punishment.”

  His tone dips at the end, and while he doesn’t sound as repentant as someone who truly believes they deserve their punishment, Samuel puts on a convincing show.

  It’s an act I know from experience is hard to stomach.

  “So you’re here for trying to feed pups?” I ask.

  Samuel nods.

  “What is your sentence?”

  “Five years, My Prince.”

  My eyes widen for a second before I resume my stone-faced indifference. It is a cruel sentence, one surely bolstered by vile Aunt Angelica herself. Even though I can do nothing for Samuel, I do not believe that he deserves to spend so much time behind bars.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say genuinely.

  My hatred for my aunt, the vampire who will be my mentor when I obtain my marshalship if I do not adhere to Father’s wishes, is that deep.

  Samuel’s lips part at my sympathy.

  The reaction twists my gut. While I have been told that my family dynasty has done much for this country, and that the people here are the bottom of the lot, I cannot brush the shifter off so easily. Not after hearing his story.

  “You may go, Samuel,” I say.

  He jumps out of his seat so fast, it’s as if he’s been waiting for a pardon the entire time.

  I watch him go, wondering how many other tales are like his.

  11.

  Skye

  Talon’s acting very unusual, almost as if he’s holding court. However, this is unlike any vampire court that I’m aware of—particula
rly the Tenebris court.

  What is he doing? I wonder, as he seeks out shifters, fae, and other witches, and sits them down to talk. Is it possible that our discussion struck a chord?

  It seems too fast and too good to be true, and yet I can’t help but hope.

  During his sessions, I catch Talon looking at me, watching me, and even once, staring intently. It’s obvious that I intrigue him, but I figure it’s best for him to seek me out.

  After three long and confusing days, this happens.

  “Skye Borges, might I have a word?” Talon comes up behind me, startling me, although I do not show it. I have far too much practice hiding my true feelings.

  “A word? That’s all you’ve been having for the past few days. Trying to drum up new royal supporters?” I look around the cafeteria. “Half these people are in here because of your family. I doubt this is the place for you to be making amends.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Talon says, which piques my interest. Something in my face lets on that I want to hear more, and Talon smiles slyly. “I’ll tell you all about it, if you join me for lunch.” He gestures to an empty table.

  I make a show of considering whether to join him, and after a few moments, shrug. “It’s not like people are beating down my door. I’ll entertain your needs this once, My Prince.” I do an exaggerated curtsey.

  “My Prince . . . I like the sound of that.” Talon’s voice dips into a low, sexy growl that makes the hairs on the back of my neck lift.

  Although we haven’t spoken in days, it’s very clear to both of us that something has changed since our walk. We have been watching each other, observing, and obviously thinking about what the other said.

  The air between us feels electric.

  Eyes follow us as we make our way to the table. I sit as gracefully as possible, a challenge for someone who is generally more bullish than ballerina. Talon, on the other hand, lowers himself in a manner that speaks of his royal lineage—or maybe just his vampire nature.

  “What would you like to talk about?” I ask, placing my hands on the table in front of me and folding them.

  “Always straight to the point, aren’t you?” Talon chuckles.

  “As a matter of fact, I am, in all manners of life.” I unclasp my hands and brush a sheet of black hair behind my shoulder, allowing my fingers to caress my long neck.

  Talon’s eyes latch on to the delicate skin there. I imagine he can see my jugular pulsing below the surface.

  I’ve done a fair bit of thinking the past couple of days, and realized that as much as Misty does not want me to use the lure of blood to get Talon to listen to me, I would be dumb not to.

  My resources are too limited to be picky, and as a prince, Talon is accustomed to receiving fresh blood from a blood slave. Anyone who knows anything about vampires knows the blood is often mixed with carnal pleasures. I can already tell he’s attracted to me. If I must use that attraction to sway him to our side and help us get out of here, I will.

  People might judge, but screw them. I’m a survivor, and it’s not just my life at stake here.

  “I’m sure of that.” Talon leans forward, his gaze darting from my eyes to my neck and back again. “It’s because I appreciate your ability to be direct that I’ve sought you out yet again.” He licks his lips, his saliva glistening on the pale pink skin there.

  I feel my heartbeat speed up.

  He smirks, and I’m reminded of yet another annoying vampire trait. If they’re listening to you, they can actually hear the beat of your heart.

  I alter my breathing to slow my heart rate, and can tell it’s worked, because Talon’s smugness slips from his face.

  “You are correct. I’ve been conversing with citizens these past few days.” He pauses, as if he’s unsure he wants to continue. “And what I’ve discovered is . . . surprising.”

  “That we’re people with hopes and dreams and mouths to feed and people to love?”

  Annoyance flashes in his gaze, but vanishes quickly.

  “More like that not everyone is pleased with my family’s rule.” He gestures to me. “Obviously, I knew the rebels weren’t, but there are fanatics everywhere.” His tone lightens at the end.

  The prince is teasing me.

  I can’t help myself. I smack him on the shoulder, which elicits a grin from Talon.

  “We’re not fanatics!” I say with mock indignation as I wonder how we got to this stage. “We’re people who want all species to have full rights!”

  “Says the witch resorting to violence.”

  “At least I don’t go around brushing my fangs against others’ necks,” I say.

  The playfulness in Talon’s stance disappears, and his spine straightens.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, not entirely sure why I’m apologizing for speaking the truth. “I know it’s a vampire dominance thing, but—”

  “You need not apologize. I regret that show of power.” Talon turns and his eyes scan the room. “It’s not the only thing I regret.”

  My eyes widen for a second, but I pull a mask over them.

  I’m not sure what to say to his admission, so I say nothing and begin poking at the food on my tray, which has grown cold. The silence between us grows heavy before the prince speaks again.

  “Not that I’m trying to get into the habit of making acquaintances out of sworn enemies, but would you like to walk with me again?”

  I arch an eyebrow. “But that seems like what acquaintances would do.”

  The prince waves his hand to encompass the entire room. “Do you realize that you are the only person I have not had to persuade to remain at the table with me?” He releases a long sigh. “And who are we kidding? We have met, which makes us acquaintances by definition. And according to others in this prison, in reputation, we are equals. Why would I not want to speak with an equal?”

  Equals.

  Did a Tenebris prince who threatened my life mere days ago just call a rebel leader an equal?

  I look him in the eyes. He doesn’t seem to be joking or even sarcastic.

  “What about them?” I gesture to his royal guards. I’m pretty sure this isn’t a ploy to attack me, but if it is, I’d rather not have soldiers who are loyal only to him following us. “If you have a retinue of special soldiers behind you, we are hardly equal.”

  Talon blinks and turns to his guard. “You may join us in the prison yard, but do not follow our every move. In fact, stay by the building.” He turns to me. “How’s that?”

  I grab my tray and rise. “Better. Have you been inside the Shifter Woods yet?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll lead the way.”

  I wait for him to balk over my assumed leadership. When he doesn’t, I decide he might have meant the whole equals thing, and I lead him out of the cafeteria.

  “YOU CALLED THIS THE Shifter Woods?” Talon asks me as we walk across the prison yard to a small patch of woods tucked in the far corner.

  “That’s the official name.”

  “If the woods are for shifters, why are we going there? Will they allow us inside?” Talon gestures to the line of guards in front of the treed area.

  They deter most people from even getting close to the woods, but a shifter I’d once tried to recruit had told me they weren’t there to keep people out, but to keep people safe once they were inside the forest.

  “They’ll let all types of creatures in.”

  Talon looks dubious, so I explain.

  “It’s actually open to all supernaturals. It’s only named for the shifters because they need it most. I guess that when the prison was first built, there was no natural area inside the penitentiary wall. Before they had witches come and raise a small forest a lot of shifters became depressed and killed themselves.”

  “Not to sound crass or anything, but why would anyone care if an imprisoned creature harms themselves? They’ve done something to be in here, haven’t they? Some would say they’re even a drain on our society’s resources.”r />
  It takes all I have not to throat-punch Talon. In light of all the progress we’ve made in the last few minutes, and because I don’t really think he believes what he’s said, I calmly turn to him.

  “That’s a rather unkind thing to say. You’re in here with all of us degenerates, so does that mean that no one would care if you offed yourself? I find that very hard to believe. Plus, you’ve been talking to a lot of people. How many of them seem like dangerous criminals to you?”

  The prince’s cheeks flush a light pink. It’s obvious that he regrets the comment.

  Good. Perhaps he’ll put more thought into what he says and his assumptions about the world before spewing nonsense.

  I arch a single eyebrow, but smile to soften the gesture. “Now, if you’re done with your judgy remarks, I’ll show you the one beautiful sanctuary we have in this hellhole.”

  Talon nods and follows me toward the patch of trees that grows inside the prison wall.

  I spot my favorite guard, one who doesn’t act as though he’s above everyone who’s locked up, by the woods entry point and walk straight up to him. “Giorgio, we’d like to walk in the woods.”

  Giorgio’s eyes shift between me and Talon. His jaw tightens.

  I know for a fact that he used to be a witch before someone made him a vamp, and therefore, he has as much loyalty to witches as he does vampires.

  “I see the prince is without his guard. Shall I reconcile that?”

  “No, thank you, Giorgio,” Talon says as he waves off the offer. “Skye and I have come to an understanding.”

  Georgio’s eyebrows practically disappear into his hairline. “As you wish, Prince Talon.” The guard moves aside for us.

  We make it three steps into the woods when the sound of footsteps crunching behind us alerts me to the fact that Giorgio himself is following us.

  Talon is not as quick on the uptake, and it takes him ten seconds more before he stops. “I fear that you’ve misunderstood me. I left my escort behind because I want none.”

  Giorgio shrugs. “Penitentiary rules. We must escort any creature who enters the woods. However, seeing as you’re . . . you . . . I suppose I can give the pair of you more room than usual.”