by Rory Miles
A blooming darkness of hate and anger has been building inside of my chest and my breathing is ragged. I became the target to save what I thought was family. With Shane dead, I can’t confirm if he would have asked the same of me. Dante’s words tear apart my carefree facade, and dive deep into the heart of my deepest fears. That no one will ever truly love me.
Anakin and Micah’s reappearance has healed some of that pain, but knowing my own kind wants me to go be the sacrificial lamb. . . it’s too much to take.
Shadows spill from my mouth when I open my mouth to yell at him again. Dante steps back, horrified. The dark tendrils chase after him, wrapping around him in a grip I know is firm. When they begin to squeeze his throat, his eyes bug.
The shadows have stopped leaking from my mouth. I yell, “What the fae fuck!”
“Shera, stop it.” His words are rasped between breaths.
I go to grab for them but my hand floats through them, almost like they’re dodging me. “I don’t know how,” I cry, trying again to snatch them away.
A flicker of panic flares in the bond and suddenly Draven is pressed against me, his warmth bleeding into me. His hands come to rest on my chest and stomach.
“Breathe, Shera, breathe,” he whispers the words into my ears. “Call them back to you with every inhale.”
Closing my eyes, I focus and do as he says. With every inhale I imagine the shadows receding and flowing back into me. Most of the time they aren’t tangible, so I peel open an eye to check if it’s working. Dante’s hand clutches his neck where the darkness had wrapped around him like a noose. He gives me an accusatory look, but I keep drawing them away from him and back to me.
“Very good.” The words rumble out of Draven as his palms press more firmly against me. “What did he do to upset you so much?”
The promise of violence heavy in his words, Draven’s own shadows crawl over the walls. These ones don’t come from within him, though; he commands every dark bit of space and makes it bend to his will.
Placing a worried hand on his arm, I say, “Nothing worthy of your threats.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” His whispered words tickle my neck.
Dante is still giving me a death glare. “It was a simple disagreement.”
I snort at that severe understatement and pull away from Draven. He reluctantly lets me go, though not without letting me know how much he wishes I would stay within the warmth of his arms.
“I will not trade myself for Naomi”—Draven growls at Dante, angered by the mere suggestion—“but I will save her. Levia does not know what beast she’s awakened.”
Dante sneers over my shoulder. “Your fae lover agrees to this plan?”
I chuckle, realizing he thinks Draven is the beast. He has no idea what’s been growing within me. Aside from the shadows, a slow simmering thirst for retribution has seeded and now, the roots shoot deep into my being, drawing out the darkest side of what I am. A creature of evil. As if sensing the change in the air, Dante snaps his eyes to me. Draven steps closer, reaching for me.
When I don’t stop him, he nuzzles my neck and I watch the incubus in front of me. My glamour is down and the red haze of allure bursts across the room. My Shadow Lord’s knees buckle when the power punches him in the gut, and he moans against my skin.
Dante’s eyes grow hungry, and I feel him responding to the call. When he takes a step toward me, I point a finger at him.
“You will not be a part of this.”
He gapes at me, as if he can’t believe I’d deny him. “My essence will help you, we are in Faerie.”
He can’t access his powers, meaning this is the only time we’d be able to enjoy one another without self-destructing.
My lip curls, and I say, “I don’t need your help. Be a good incubus and find your rooms.”
Draven flicks his wrists and Betty apparates in front of him. Dante flinches, shoots me a withering look, and is dragged from the room by a wraith.
“Shera.” Draven groans and grinds against me. “Your power is stronger.”
Turning in his arms, I link my hands together behind his head. “I’ve just taken the essence I need to be near full power.”
He kisses me, dropping his hands to my ass. “Take what you need.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“We’re in Faerie.”
Oh right. Perhaps this will be more fun than I expect. Mother Faerie willing, I can lose total control with him, something I’ve feared doing with anyone. Even with Anakin and Micah I have to exercise careful control, taking care not to take too much essence before their bodies and power can replenish the deficit.
Through the red haze covering my eyes, I see his heated look.
“Give me all you’ve got.”
Cuddling into him, I hoist myself up and smile when his hands naturally curl underneath my thighs to hold me.
“You may want to sit down.”
He laughs and walks over to a chair. Once we’re seated, with me on top of his lap, I give him an appreciative once-over.
“Though I’d love to take my time, something tells me we need to hurry. This may hurt.”
He nods, pulls me even closer, and says, “Don’t worry about me.”
With his full permission, I hover my lips over his and drink deeply from the depths of his soul. As his essence transfers to me, I sift through the feel of it, searching for the unbridled violence. Having yet to tap into it, I stop and check on him.
He smiles and smashes his lips to mine. This time, I metaphorically chug his essence. A low rumble starts in his chest, and I know I’m close to that part of him. Not heeding the warning he’s giving me, whether or not he’s aware of it, I dive headfirst into that raging storm.
The Taint I find here is thick like oil and scented like death, many, many deaths. A hundred thousand lives ended by whatever this is inside him. I open my eyes, keeping my lips against his, and depthless black ones stare back at me. His features have sharpened and the rumble has risen to a full growl. Draven uses a hand to push me away but I renew my efforts, tracing my tongue over his now-closed mouth and easing his lips open.
My tongue brushes against razor-sharp teeth, and I hiss when one point draws a line of blood. The moment he tastes me, the growling ceases and I’m the one fighting to be let go when he pins me to him.
Reality drops away and a never-ending darkness replaces what was once the room. I stand next to a beast shrouded in shadows; I assume this is what’s hidden within Draven. The faint light of my allure allows me to see the ground around me, and when I slowly take stock of what I’m standing on, I feel revulsion roil in my stomach. This ground is covered in bones.
“What are you?” I ask.
Draven’s beast is a cross between a hell hound and a stegosaurus. Instead of large spikes, smaller, spear-like black bones protrude from his body and his paws are long dagger-like fingers. The black eyes staring back at me show a glimmer of recognition, and he rubs up against me like a cat.
Screaming, I hop back, expecting pain to flood my senses. When it doesn’t, I glance down at my hip, using a hand to check for blood. There is no way he didn’t stab me with those bone daggers.
“What the heck?” I ask when I find no injury.
Draven’s beast approaches me again, rubs against me like a Siamese, and begins rumbling. Is he purring? Curse this fae fuckery.
“I want to go back,” I tell him.
Draven curls into a large ball at my feet and settles in for sleep. I try to take a step back, but strong paws hold me in place. He growls loudly at me and the message is clear. He will not let me go.
“Oh no. No, no. Let me out of here.” I jiggle my leg. “Draven. Let me go.”
When he does no such thing, I groan and curse Mother Faerie. “You hear me, Mother Faerie, get me out of this death hole!”
A slight stirring wind whips a bunch of hair in front of my face. I push it back and gasp when a glowing being stands in front of me. She is. .
. indescribable. Perfect, totally flawed, everything and nothing all at once. I blink, trying to comprehend what’s in front of me. A blurred hand snatches my wrist and I gasp at her bruising grip.
“You’ve become one with the shadows.”
“What?”
She gestures to Draven, or at least I think she does, it’s hard to tell when I’m blinded by what I see. “He is the darkness. The male you know is consumed by it. He fights for control, always has. The beast is claiming you.”
I scrunch my brows together. “Well, that’s not terrible.” I like Draven, really like him.
“There is nowhere you can hide from him.”
“I don’t want to hide.”
“You are not afraid?”
Tilting my head, I glance down at the snoring beast. “He’s harmless.”
A tinkling of laughter spills from her. “That is not what he is. Look around, demon.”
I do, squinting through the blackness, and say, “I don’t see a thing.”
“Exactly.”
I’m still trying to understand, so I ask, “What is this place?”
“The end of everything and the beginning of nothing.”
Right, that makes sense.
“How do I get out?”
She steps closer, and some of that blur fades and I can make out a perfectly symmetrical face and flowing rose-gold hair. “You don’t.”
I scoff. “Excuse me?”
She purses her lips. “Draven is the only one who can release you from the shadows.”
Finally, the pieces click together. “I’m a shadow.”
Nodding, a flash of sympathy ripples over her face. “Until Draven the fae wrenches you from Draven the beast.”
“Aren’t they the same?” I ask.
Canting her head, her eyes shimmer with mirth. “The two are one but separate.”
Oh my wicked devil, Mother Faerie is annoying.
“They both control the shadows.”
She nods. “Draven the fae controls the shadow beast.”
“What happens if he loses control?”
Snapping her fingers, a bright flash of light illuminates the darkness and I see what I thought was a few bodies is actually hundreds of thousands.
“The last time Draven lost control was during the fae wars.”
The great civil war of the Faerie realm, Seelie vs. Unseelie, ran for twenty years in fae time. My mind explodes trying to do the math in Earth time. No one won, and I suddenly understand why.
“He did this?”
“Yes. The shadows swept over the battlefield full of low fae for two years, and when they receded,” she holds out her arms, “this is all that remained. The Seelie quickly came to a truce after that display of power.”
“They were scared?”
She smiles and the light dims. “He can turn anything into a shadow, and without sustenance, the body will rot and fade until all the is left is an echo of what used to be. Pushed past his limits, Draven could end the worlds with his darkness.”
If she’s trying to scare me, it isn’t working. “He won’t do that.”
Stepping even closer so our noses touch, she whispers, “For you, he’d do anything.”
Her hand presses into my chest. “I have never liked my brother’s creations, but you are different. I can help you, if you accept.”
Mother Faerie, Gaia, Sahira and my Creator are the divine family and the origins of the worlds. Gaia and Sahira created humans and mages using light and love, while Mother Faerie chose light and dark to balance her world. My Creator. . . well, he just used the darkness. Suddenly, Draven’s beast claiming me doesn’t seem so strange.
Accepting what she offers feels all too similar to the fae vow I gave Draven, but seeing as the beast has no intentions of letting me go, I nod my head in agreement.
Without warning, light blue power is thrust into my chest. Once the surprise fades, I notice a stark difference between who I was before and who I am now. Before, I was a high-powered demon bonded to three men. My power was great. Now, I’m a high-powered demon bonded to three men and Mother fucking Faerie herself. My power is cosmic.
“Do not disappoint me,” her words follow me as I’m suddenly sucked out of the darkness within Draven and into my own, unconscious darkness.
I wake up in a bed instead of on Draven’s lap. The fae is nowhere in sight, so I get up and cross the cool marble floor. Creaking open, the door alerts the wraith standing guard that I’m up. It flickers and disappears. Going to tell his master, no doubt. I’m certain that wraith isn’t Betty; she’d at least give me a chance to get myself together.
I’m still in the same clothes: skinny jeans and a low-cut, navy-blue silk blouse. I quickly brush my fingers through my tangled hair. Between Draven running his hands through it and passing out, it’s a mess. When Dante and Draven arrive, I’m leaning against the dark-stained armoire and pretending to check out my cuticles. Had I been human, they’d need work. Since I’m a demon, and a succubus no less, they’re perfect.
Despite fainting, I feel wonderful. The essence I took from Draven is overflowing inside of me and whatever Mother Faerie did to me has made me feel ten times stronger. Dark hair swooped over one eye, my bonded fae’s nostrils flare when he steps closer. A hint of surprise sparks in his eyes.
“Shera, you smell delicious.”
Scrunching my nose, I say, “I always do.”
He smirks. “No, this is different. You smell. . . like me.”
Dante gives Draven a funny look but agrees. “I wouldn’t say you smell like him, but something has changed. Your normal Shera-ness is more tangy.”
Tangy? I don’t know if I like that. If that Mother Faerie made me sour, I’ll gouge her divine eyes out.
Draven shakes his head. “Not tangy. More bitter, but in a good way. Like a fine cabernet. It must be the bond. . .” He trails off, staring at a vacant spot on the wall.
Well, I’m not sure if bitter is better than tangy, but I’m quite done talking about how I smell. I’m not ready to reveal the gift Mother Faerie has given me to Dante.
“Shall we go save a succubus?” I ask Draven, ignoring Dante’s curious gaze.
Draven crinkles his eyebrows together and pulls his attention back to me. “You’ve just woken up.”
Spreading my hands wide, I twirl. “I feel wonderful. Thanks to your essence.” And Mother Faerie’s, I add in my head.
“I still don’t know why you fainted.”
Dante is trying to communicate something with his eyes, but it isn’t registering.
“You look ridiculous,” I tell him, “just say it.”
He gives me a scathing look and huffs. “I was trying to tell you not to tell him that when we’ve taken too much essence, we can faint for a short period of time.”
“Right,” I say quickly, playing along. I’m not sure why Dante is making this up, but he must have his reasons.
Draven looks between us. I give him a sweet smile and Dante acts irritated. “So this is not unusual?”
“Nope,” Dante says.
“Nope,” I echo.
Betty pops up and Dante screams like a human woman in a horror movie. “Geezzzzzz-us give a demon a warning before you fling those shadows around!”
I can’t stop the ludicrous snort that escapes me. Soon, Draven is chuckling along with me at Dante’s newfound fear of shadows.
“Oh, shut up. You almost killed me with your shadows!”
That does shut me up. I give him an apologetic smile and shoot my eyes toward the floor. “It was an accident.”
“I know.” The low, murmured words make my gaze flit up to meet his. He’s giving me a crooked smile. “Pretty neat trick, though; maybe you can try it out on Levia when you find her.”
I laugh. “Devil, I’d love that. Maybe Draven can DemonBook Live it.”
Draven asks, “DemonBook Live?”
Dante and I share a look. Fae.
“Chop, chop. Bring my girl back.”
&
nbsp; “I won’t let you down,” I promise.
He smiles, and says, “I’m sorry about earlier. You know I don’t want to see you hurt. I’m just worried about Naomi.”
“That’s all right.” Even though it really isn’t. Regardless of what he says now, he still feels some of that within the truth of his soul. He wouldn’t have uttered the words otherwise.
Draven holds out a hand and I take it. “Shall we?” As I’m pulled into his arms, shadows begin wrapping around us. Before they can totally cover and transport us, I ask, “Can I do this now?”
“Yes.” The devilish smile he gives me sends a thrum of excitement up my spine.
I can travel with the shadows.
On my own.
Oh. My. Fucking. Fae.
We are just outside Jasper’s when the darkness whips away from our bodies. I glance up at Draven, meeting warm green eyes.
“I felt how strongly you wanted to come home.”
I smile and smooth down some of his dark hair. “This isn’t home.”
“I know, but it’s the best I can do for now.”
Nodding, I sigh in resignation. It would be the dumbest thing I could do—going home. Beelzebub and the devil only knows who else would have it watched. Luckily, I keep a small dresser full of clothes here for those nights when our jobs with the Cohort get bloody. Plus, my phone is here. Once we grab some essentials, we can find a better place to plan our rescue mission.
Rushing to the door, I shout over my shoulder, “I need to call Anakin and Micah.” It’s still late, or early depending on what you consider 2:13 AM, but they need to be here.
I hear him mumble, but I can’t make out the words. Frankly, I don’t care to figure it out. My mind is 100% focused on getting to my phone and hearing their voices. The door is unlocked, as per usual, but when I enter, the TV is on and I hear a familiar voice cursing at the people in the show.
Barreling into the living room, I drop to my knees and stare at the vampire. He’s smirking at me like he didn’t die and I’ve been duped, or whatever that stupid show was on MTV with Ashton Kutcher.
