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

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  A few steps later, I realize that touching him was a foolish choice—one I made too fast because I wanted it.

  I go on alert, so I can leap away from Talon if someone walks by. No matter what my personal feelings are toward the vampire prince, I don’t want anyone else to know what happened between us.

  Talon senses the shift in my emotions, or perhaps the stiffness of my arm gives me away, and he pats my hand. “No one’s in the woods. I would hear them if they were. And I promise if someone else seeks solitude while we are here, I will tell you.”

  I relax, and we walk for a bit longer, until we reach what appears to be a series of caves that I suspect were put there for bear-shifters and wolf-shifters to feel as if they were denning.

  A part of me wants to explore, but Talon has other ideas. He guides me to the rock wall and presses my back up against it. His hands land on my hips, and my nipples harden immediately and yearn for his touch.

  I’ve never been this turned on by anyone before.

  Slowly, the vampire prince caresses my face and presses his lips to mine.

  And gods, does it feel so damn good.

  His hand moves up my shirt, and his cock is straining hard against my center. My skin tingles, and Talon groans. For a moment, I wonder if we will actually go all the way.

  Then my mental magic surges, and I gasp.

  It pulses again, just behind my eyes, harder and more insistent this time. Despite the pleasure coursing through my body, it seems to still believe that Talon is an enemy, and it wishes to protect me from him.

  Something inside me tightens. I have long known to trust in my magic. And I have to admit this moment is opportune. His defenses are down; I could easily get a little information from him that might help me persuade him to join the rebellion later.

  Misty and the rest of the rebellion are depending on me. And no matter that I trust Talon, they come first. I have a responsibility to them—to a crumbled nation.

  I break our connection gently and inch back. Talon’s eyebrows knit together. It’s clear that he’s wondering why I moved away from him, but I cannot allow myself to comfort him now. I must remember my priorities. Plus, using my mental magic might ease the few doubts that I possess about us.

  Because he is royal and usually able to compel other vampires, I don’t expect to see much when my magic flows out of me and into him. But I’m proven wrong when I glimpse something right away. A memory that astonishes me.

  King Louis, Talon’s father, is waiting in Talon’s cell—the same cell I was in last night. He sits his son down and speaks. I catch three words of the spiel, one of them my last name, before the real Talon blinks and I’m thrust from his mind.

  “What just happened?” he asks, a worried look crossing his face.

  Fear rises within me. Maybe my knee-jerk reaction was a stupid one. As a vampire familiar with compulsion, might he know what I’ve done?

  I can’t ask him about the memory, so instead, I play dumb.

  “Happened? I was trying to connect with you.”

  Talon shook his head. “Yeah . . . same, but then I had a flashback.”

  My stomach clenches. Flashback? My heart rate picks up, and because I know he can sense that, I do everything I can to distract him. Despite how I feel about him, there is no way I can let him know my secret power.

  “One from last night? If so, then my plan worked.” Heat rises in my cheeks because flirting is not something I’m good at; even if I like the guy, I’m always awkward as hell.

  Somehow, miraculously, I seem to pull it off, because Talon’s expression clears, and his lips tilt up in a sexy grin.

  “I’ve been having those all day,” he says and, all suspicion forgotten, presses his lips to mine.

  16.

  Talon

  Skye and I leave the Shifter Woods separately. Although we have been seen many times together around the prison, she seems uneasy about people seeing us together now.

  I despise that she feels this way. What’s more, because I know that news of our meeting will reach my father, my anxiety increases as soon as we are apart. I’m not sure what to tell Father when he makes contact again.

  In fact, I’m unsure about almost everything relating to Skye.

  Something about her is different from any other witch I’ve met. And I don’t mean the way she makes my heart beat irregularly.

  No, it’s something bigger. A trait that I never suspected . . . but given her reputation, perhaps that was idiotic. The sensation of energy pulsing through me and the vivid flashback I experienced are my only proof, but for me, they are enough. I’m certain that Skye has unusual magic, and she tried to use it on me in the woods.

  But what is it? And how did the witch who bound her not discern it?

  The thought that the binding witch actually did find Skye’s powers and chose not to restrict them is unfathomable. The penalty would be immediate death.

  I’m still lost in thought on the matter when I exit the hallway into my cell’s chamber and see my father perched on the edge of my bed.

  I stop dead in my tracks. “Father? I did not expect to see you again so soon.”

  He beams at me. It’s one of the warmest smiles he’s given me in years, and my heart leaps.

  “According to the guard I assigned, you’ve been working fast, my boy. Come and tell me what you have learned from the witch.”

  I cringe. His jovial attitude is about to plummet. But instead of admitting right away that I have discovered nothing, I stride into the cell and sit next to him.

  A goblet of blood sits on the nightstand, and from the smell of it, I can tell that it is human, young, and feminine. My father has always had a thing for the blood of teenage girls. If he could stand their personalities, which he cannot, they would crowd the palaces. Instead, he has their blood drained and sent to him the same day so he can drink fresh blood but not have to deal with teenage sensibilities.

  “So, what have you learned?” my father prods.

  “Not as much as I would like,” I admit, and his face falls. “I did as you said and seduced the witch, however, she is proving more tight-lipped than I imagined. It may take a few days still.”

  A few more days to buy me time and decide what to do.

  My father takes a sip of his blood and sets the goblet down without offering me any. It’s a reminder that, although he needs me, although I am his son, I am no more than a tool.

  I don’t know how I allowed myself to forget. The reminder lessens the guilt I feel over my wavering allegiance.

  “I was hoping you would not say that, although I am not surprised,” my father says. “It seems I may need to take matters into my own hands.”

  My breath stops in my chest. His own hands? Whatever that means, it cannot be good for Skye.

  “I need more time to focus,” I insist. “A day or two tops.”

  The king arches his eyebrows. “Are you saying you made progress but perhaps got a little too carried away with the seduction?”

  I nod. It is at least partially true.

  “I suppose I cannot blame you for that. A witch’s blood is enticing, and you have had little of it in your life.” My father stands, which is surprising. His interrogations are usually more extensive. “But if you fail me again, you will be in here for much longer than your original sentence.”

  His face grows stony, and my stomach plummets. I know what’s coming.

  My father’s eyes bore into mine. A second later, I can sense his power flowing through me, trying to compel me—to take over my mind, or read what I am thinking.

  More than anything I don’t want him in my head, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind that will distract him.

  “Actually, I was with the witch only minutes ago, and something strange happened, I think she can use her magic still.”

  The compulsion stops.

  “Her magic? As in elemental powers?”

  I shake my head. “It actually feels like compulsion,
it seemed like she was looking into my soul.”

  My father’s stare is blank, but then suddenly, as if he is remembering something, his lips part. “I have heard of such a thing once before. When it happened, did you experience a flashback of any type?”

  My eyes widen. “Yes. Of the last time you were here.”

  A smile blooms across my father’s face. “I see. We will need to take a new tack with this witch. She is even more formidable than I believed.” The king paces my cell. “She has a twin, does she not?”

  “I believe so.”

  “That makes even more sense. The power of twins is indisputable in the witching race.” He stops and snaps his fingers. “Talon, my boy, wait here.”

  With a flourish of his jacket, my father strides out of my cell, down the hall, and disappears.

  As soon as he is gone, a rock settles in my stomach. I fear that I’ve given him too much information. Instead of buying us time, have I condemned Skye to the king’s cruelty sooner?

  I’m still wondering what could be happening when I hear his purposeful footsteps return, along with a pair of shuffling ones.

  The witch who bound my magic appears at the end of the tunnel, and my father forces her into the cell.

  “Reverse your spell on his compulsion abilities.”

  The witch quivers. “My King, it is against—”

  My father slaps her across the face. “Do as I say. Or I will drain you dry where we stand.”

  The witch whirls around to face me and begins mumbling words beneath her breath. It takes less than a minute before I feel my power return to full strength. For the first time since I arrived at the penitentiary a week ago, I feel whole and like myself.

  “Did she?” my father asks, his hand poised to strike the witch again.

  “Yes. She lifted the spell.”

  “Good.” My father glowers at the woman. “Consider yourself lucky that I need a witch of your talents here. However, if you speak of this to anyone, I will make good of my threat on your life.” He looks her up and down, his lip curled in disgust. “No one will fight for you.”

  “I won’t say anything, My King,” the witch cries and falls to her knees.

  My father snorts. “Leave.”

  Once we can no longer hear her footsteps, his attention trains on me again. “You have already earned the witch’s trust to some degree. Get close to her again and use your powers of compulsion to get the information that I seek. Learn what her unique magic is and the secrets of the rebellion.” With that, my father steps out of the cell and claps twice.

  From the shadows, a guard that I did not even notice before steps forward, and my father beckons him over. He looks into the guard’s eyes. “You will remember none of what you heard here. If you do, you will tell somebody to find me.”

  The guard nods, powerless against my father’s royal blood.

  My father’s golden eyes turn on me once again. “Two more days, my son. After that, I take matters into my own hands, and the witch dies.”

  17.

  Skye

  Talon sends the same guard to escort me to his cell that night. And while I know I should be careful—he almost caught me using my magic earlier, after all—I go.

  I cannot help it. I want to see him.

  More than that, I am curious about what I saw in his mind. Since the prince arrived, I’ve heard no mention of the king visiting, and surely something of that nature would be talked about far and wide?

  To be honest, I’m shocked the king would show his face to the son he sent here to serve his sentence. And, perhaps egotistically so, I’m surprised that the king did not pay me a visit.

  He recognizes the power I hold, and that I, above anyone else in this penitentiary, am his equal. If he didn’t, I would not be here, locked away for life and made an example of.

  Yet he did not seek me out to question me, or even flaunt that I am behind bars while he kills my forces.

  Something is wrong here, and Talon might know what it is.

  Because I am lost in thought, the walk to Talon’s cell seems shorter than before. It’s only when I’m entering the open space in front of his cell that I clear my thoughts from my mind and focus.

  My attempt to break into his head earlier was sloppy, but I can’t be faulted for that. I was out of practice, and my damn hormones were screwing with me.

  Speaking of screwing with me . . .

  I suck in a breath.

  If the heated look on his face is any indication, Talon wants nothing more than to reduce me to a puddle of orgasm and pleasure yet again. To be honest, I’m all for that. My body craves him.

  But first, I have business to attend to.

  I cannot forget the rebellion. If we are to get Talon on our side, I need to know the best buttons to push. And if I pick up a few royal secrets while I’m at it, all the better.

  Since we parted, I’ve been practicing mind magic on the guards that have walked by me. None have so much as batted an eyelash. It’s risky, sure, but also necessary. Talon is the one most likely to know what I am doing. Now that I have worked out the kinks of disuse, I feel more confident that my ability might escape his notice.

  “Hey, Borges,” Talon drawls as I enter his cell. He reaches his hand out to me.

  “Tenebris,” I purr and place my hands on his chest.

  It’s an act to disarm him, but it’s not a hard one to keep up. I want Talon, almost more than I want the information I seek. It’s only my die-hard loyalty to my family that is stopping me from jumping his bones right away. I walk a thin line and, because so many lives depend on me, I must walk it well.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” I tease.

  Talon grins a heart-stopping smile and dips his lips to meet mine. I keep my eyes locked with his the whole time. Not wanting to get caught up in the moment before I can get information, I push my magic out.

  It sears through me, and the pulse behind my eyes tells me it’s flowing—hard. In fact, I’m using more magic than normal, and yet I’m getting nothing. It’s like I’m hitting a wall.

  In my grasp, Talon tenses.

  “Skye . . . what are you doing?” he asks.

  My attention shifts from his eyes to the rest of his face. He knows something is up, which means I need to work fast.

  “Nothing,” I say as I push harder, desperate to make it work—to see why the king visited Talon in prison.

  I slam into a wall again.

  It makes no sense. I’ve never encountered this before. The one witch I knew who had the same powers as Misty and me said it would always work, unless—

  The reality of what has happened clicks.

  I leap away from the prince, my heart thundering in my chest.

  The binds on his powers of compulsion are gone. Someone has removed them.

  As if he wants to confirm this, Talon tilts my chin up, and his eyes start to glow.

  Now he’s trying to compel me.

  Oh, fuck no.

  I whirl around and run out of his cell.

  18.

  Talon

  I call out to Skye as she runs down the corridor. My guard is at the end of the tunnel, but he won’t do anything to her without my explicit command.

  My heart clenches at what has happened—what I’ve done. Against my better judgment, I attempted to use compulsion to see what Skye wants from me.

  I attempted to learn her secrets, not for my father, but for myself. I’d hoped that by learning them, they might help me figure out a way to save her. What an idiotic idea.

  The second she realized what I was doing, betrayal flashed in her eyes, and I wished I hadn’t acted the way I did.

  Why didn’t I just ask her? Except for her mental magic, which I can forgive because anyone’s knowledge of it puts her in real danger, I do not believe that she’s ever hesitated to tell me the truth before.

  I’ve acted like a fool. First, believing that if I gave Father what he wanted, he would respect me—maybe even love me. And now b
y trying to force secrets from the most formidable woman I’ve ever encountered.

  Even if a part of me did it to save her, it was stupid. She would have handled the truth like she handles everything else the world throws at her. With strength.

  She proved as much when she refused to give in to my bullying the day we met. And when she spat her defiance in the face of a cruel prince who threatened her. And as she stood up for a wolf-shifter she obviously did not know.

  She is the rebel who dared to get to know a royal whose family killed hers.

  Skye, the woman who I believe I am falling in love with, is one of a kind.

  But I cannot run after her. She will not take kindly to that, and she might even reveal that I am no longer bound—which could have awful repercussions for me and the king.

  I’m not sure why I care about how this affects Father—some stupid lingering sense of familial loyalty—I guess. Or more likely, it is because my siblings, who I do care deeply for, are still with him.

  What would happen to them if I spilled Father’s secrets? Will mobs infiltrate the castle and put stakes in their hearts?

  I shudder at the thought.

  No, I cannot let anyone know that my powers of compulsion are no longer bound.

  What will he say when I tell him the witch no longer trusts me?

  The question chills me to the core, because it takes little thought to know the answer.

  King Louis does not make idle threats. He will kill Skye.

  Her demise was likely my father’s plan all along, but I was so caught up in pleasing him, and later, being surprisingly pleased at the process of getting to know Skye, that I didn’t bother to consider it.

  My eyes travel to the cell door. It’s open now, but soon enough, my royal guards will be forced to close it for the nightly lockup, which is performed just as much to keep us contained as it is to keep us safe from other inmates. Although I have not visited Skye’s cell, I recall that she’s in the north building, which is two structures over. I could still follow her, but no doubt she would have one of the many prison guards, vampires who answer to the warden and not my father, turn me away.

  I’m not sure how I will gain her trust again, but I know one thing for certain. Skye has opened my eyes to the reality of the world. She has shown me grace and acceptance from a person who never in their right mind should have accepted me.