Into Darkness: The Akrhyn Series (Book 1)

by Eve L Mitchell

Salem sighed heavily in agreement, he turned to Bryce. “How fast can you pull a scouting party together for this? I need your best of the best.”

  “A couple of hours,” Bryce said. “It would be beneficial to have Michael with us.”

  “He is not yet Elite,” Salem protested weakly. “I’m being an overprotective father,” his laugh was bitter. “Plus he is the only one who may stop your Sentinels from killing Cord.” Cord didn’t react, they all knew that Cord was more than capable of defending himself. “Lose the robes though, Castor, we don’t need you drawing attention to the scouting party.”

  Cord dipped his head in acknowledgment, the humour in his eyes unmistakeable. Bryce said his goodbyes and left them to assemble the scouting party. When he was gone, Salem turned to the Castor. “Now why don’t you tell me why you are here for Tegan?”

  “I need to ask her some questions,” Cord answered as he pulled his hood up.

  “What kind of questions?” Salem asked worriedly.

  “Nothing too important, where is she?” Cord asked impatiently.

  “Class,” Marcus answered.

  “Class?” Cord looked at them both, “She’s Elite.”

  “Human Studies,” Marcus further explained, casting a quick glance to Salem.

  “For the wrath of Harrian, she doesn’t need to know this,” Cord muttered angrily as he walked towards the library doors.

  “She needs to know about humans, she needs to know more than just the fact she protects them from Drakhyn,” Salem bit out.

  Cord turned to him in frustration. “Why? It will make no difference to her; she will never come into contact with them. Your heart bleeds too much for them, Principal.”

  “It’s called compassion, Castor, you should try it,” Salem snapped back.

  “You should also show the Principal Elite respect,” Marcus growled at the young Castor.

  “I will, Lycan, as soon as he shows me that he deserves it,” Cord stormed out of the library in the search for Tegan, furious that the Elders had her wasting her time on classes when she should be training. The Drakhyn wanted a female and they turned up days after Tegan did, he didn’t believe in coincidences.

  Stalking through the halls, pausing only briefly to ask a timid Akrhyn where the class was, Cord pressed on. When he got to the upper level he walked into the class, ignoring Michael’s surprise. Scanning the handful of students, he saw her sitting at the back, staring out the window.

  “Tegan, come,” he ordered. Tegan turned to him, her face mirroring her surprise before her irritation at his command surfaced. Cord enjoyed the fact that she did not mask her feelings – she was not versed in deception – a failing he felt of Leonid’s.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I don’t have much time, little tiger, you can ask your questions as we walk,” Cord made a hurrying motion with his hand, flinching internally at the use of his pet name for her.

  “No,” Tegan turned her head to the front of the class where Michael was watching her carefully.

  Cord flicked his wrist and the chair in which Tegan had been sitting, toppled over. She leapt to her feet, her angry glare worthy of making a sane male run.

  “Good, now that you’re up, let’s go,” Cord walked to the door and held it open.

  “I’m learning,” Tegan hissed at him, reaching for another chair and sitting back down.

  Glancing at the wall, Cord saw they were learning about human wars, his snort of contempt was not unnoticed by Michael. “Fine, you won’t leave, then I’ll stay,” he walked into the classroom, making his way to the back where she sat.

  “Tegan, for the sake of my class, can you just leave with him?” Michael asked. “I’ll discuss this with you later,” he promised as he glared at Cord.

  Tegan threw an incredulous look towards Michael before she stood angrily. As she walked past Cord, she made sure to dig her shoulder into his in passing. His chuckle did nothing for her temper. Once out of the classroom, she kept on walking, having no intention of waiting or listening to the Castor.

  “You’ll need to grow longer legs to outrun me, little tiger,” his smooth silky voice caused a shiver down her spine.

  “What do you want?”

  “You.” Tegan stumbled to a stop turning to him in alarm. “I have some questions I need to know before I can Cast the spell. Answers I need to know in regard to the mate bond.” Cord continued, enjoying the flush on her skin caused by his deliberate misdirection.

  “Can you please stop calling it that,” Tegan asked him through gritted teeth as she resumed walking.

  “Of course, I’ll call it our pairing,” Cord suggested, glad when Tegan winced at the phrase.

  “That’s worse!”

  “Bonding?”

  “Cord, be serious,” Tegan snapped at him.

  “Alright, how about, connection?” Tegan shook her head vehemently, he carried on, “Closeness? Attachment?”

  “Ugh, that’s vile.”

  “I have it, relationship?” Tegan turned so quickly he almost didn’t dodge her punch in time, catching her wrist he pulled her to him, a smile hovering on his lips as she looked up at him. The fire in her eyes making them a deeper indigo. “You’re breathless, little tiger,” Cord murmured as he held her.

  “Being close to you makes me ill,” Tegan snapped as she tried to step away.

  Cord grinned, his smile savage as he watched her struggle. “Lie, little tiger.”

  The two of them looked at each other wordlessly, Cord’s hold on her wrist tightened minutely. Pressed up against him, Tegan stopped struggling, although she was ashamed to admit, even to herself, she hadn’t been trying that hard to get away from him. She searched his face trying to understand this pull towards him, was it just his looks? He was strikingly handsome, his eyes held secrets that she wanted to uncover, with his thick hair that she wanted to run her hands through. His mocking looks when he spoke to others, the cold exterior he presented, she wanted to dig under it and find who he really was.

  “Are you both alright?”

  Cord dropped her hand and stepped away from her as he turned to look at his brother. “We’re fine, little brother,” he answered smoothly.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Sloane said as he looked to Tegan, checking she was alright. Her face was flushed, and she had her head turned away from them both, hoping they couldn’t see the blush to her cheeks.

  “I needed to see Tegan, I have questions that I need answered,” he glanced at her once. “Regarding our relationship issues,” he added with a smirk.

  “You cannot call it that,” Tegan snapped turning back to him as she rubbed her wrist.

  “Well pick something that suits,” Cord retorted just as snappy.

  “Curse,” Tegan glared at him.

  “You wound me, little tiger,” Cord mocked.

  “I will wound you soon, Castor, mark my words.”

  Cord laughed; frustrated when Tegan walked away from him. His hand caught her elbow. “Not so fast, we still haven’t discussed what I need,” he reminded her.

  “Hurry, I grow bored with you,” Tegan said as she checked her knives in her belt.

  “Of course you do,” his mocking voice making her grind her teeth. “Shall we adjourn to your room?”

  “Woah, wait a minute!” Sloane interrupted their silent stare-off. “Why are you going to her room, there are plenty of spare meeting rooms here. No need for bedroom meetings.”

  Cord glanced at his brother – his contempt obvious. “She’s in no danger from me in her bedroom.”

  “It’s about perception, Cord, you know that better than anyone,” Sloane rebuked him as he closed the distance between them.

  “Fine, lead the way to your designated safe place.” Cord instructed as he pulled his hood up, eager to get this over and done with. Being in her presence confused him, the appeal to touch her was too tempting. Grudgingly he realised his brother may have a point in keeping them away from Tegan’s bedroom, she was gettin
g harder to resist.

  Once they were in an empty room, that Sloane deemed fit for their purpose, the three of them looked at each other. Tegan had checked the room when she went in for entry and exit points. Double checking the security of the windows that looked over the gardens and further into the woods. It was Cord’s mocking snort that had turned her around, she had almost challenged him when she had caught Sloane rolling his eyes. Sloane shuffled his feet, Cord stood still, his mocking gaze never leaving Tegan, who in turn was growing more frustrated as the silence stretched.

  “Is there a reason I am here, or is this another one of your tricks?” She finally snapped at Cord.

  “It was a test, little tiger.”

  “A test of what?” Tegan threw her hands up in frustration.

  “To see how long it would take before your impatience wore out,” Cord clucked his tongue. “How did you ever become an Elite Sentinel at your age?” He shook his head as he watched the anger take over.

  “He’s baiting you, Tegan,” Sloane said, gaining her attention. “It’s his thing, to irritate people.” He cast a hard look to his brother.

  “I need skin cells,” Cord declared, he pulled a plastic container out of the pocket of his robes.

  “Why?”

  “To test, obviously.”

  “You said you wouldn’t need hair or blood,” Tegan challenged him. “You said you had questions?”

  “I lied, I just need skin cells,” Cord replied patiently.

  “This isn’t creepy at all,” Sloane muttered.

  “Skin cells are dead skin, yes?” Cord waited for them both to nod before he continued, “Dead means formerly alive. Why do we burn Vampyre bones, Drakhyn bones? Why do we reduce them to ash?”

  “Bones hold memories,” Tegan murmured in understanding.

  “As does skin, if it used to be alive, then it remembers,” Cord said emphatically. “Your skin cells,” he held the empty container to Tegan who looked at it blankly. “By Harrian, the Ancients have a sick sense of humour if I am to be paired with you,” Cord caught her arm as he muttered and jerked her towards him.

  “Tell me what you want me to do. Stop jerking me all the time,” Tegan growled. Sloane failed to muffle his laughter and she noticed that Cord also looked at her in amusement. “What?”

  “Poor choice of words, cousin,” Sloane chuckled.

  “How?”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Cord cut off any further explanation, knowing that Sloane would love to drag this out. “Explain on your own time, not mine,” he took a thin scalpel from his other pocket.

  “You walk around with a scalpel?” Tegan asked curiously.

  “You walk around with knives and a sword,” Cord replied smoothly.

  “But mine are sheathed, you had that in your pocket like that,” Tegan stated. “Not sheathed, how do you know you aren’t going to stab yourself?”

  “Because I’m not an idiot?” Cord replied easily, causing Tegan to grit her teeth again in frustration. He pulled her arm out straight and pushed the sleeve of her tactical gear up. Running the tip of the scalpel over her forearm, he deftly turned her arm over and using his middle finger instead, he traced down the centre of her arm. A shiver of pleasure travelled over Tegan’s skin where he touched her. Her face burning, she couldn’t look at him, just watch transfixed where his long finger stroked her skin. Swiftly he turned her arm again and then pressing the scalpel into her arm, he quickly ran the scalpel over her skin, from her wrist to her elbow.

  Tegan gasped, the scalpel felt like a deep scratch, but no blood was drawn, her arm merely felt tingly and… tight. She looked from her arm to Cord and caught his lips moving in a silent incantation. The spell over, he raised his eyes to look at her, the stare held, and his eyes darted to her lips.

  “You get what you need?” Sloane asked loudly.

  Cord dropped his stare and carefully placed the scalpel in the container. “I did,” he nodded.

  “I don’t see anything,” Tegan peered into the container.

  “You wouldn’t.” Cord’s usual arrogance had returned, and Tegan turned away in annoyance.

  “How do you know you collected anything?” Tegan asked.

  “I just do.”

  “And you don’t need blood?” Her frown showed her confusion.

  “The day any Castor asks you for blood, means you’re probably dying or about to die,” Cord said grimly as he placed the container in his pocket.

  “What?” Tegan’s disbelieving laugh filled the room.

  “Blood is used for two things, little tiger, to bind and to kill.” Cord’s cold stare was as grim as his next words, “Blood to bind means an Akhryn or supernatural wants you as a slave, or to kill someone for them. Or if not to make you their puppet, they want your blood to curse you and your line. Never give your blood willingly to anyone.”

  “I think you’re trying to scare me, I am Elite Guard,” Tegan watched him as she reminded him of her impressive standing. “I would know this if this were true, blood can be used to heal, to find, for good.”

  Cord snorted in contempt. “The Castors that need to use blood for those reasons, shouldn’t call themselves Castors,” his hand reached out to cup her face, the intensity in his eyes drawing her in. “Trust me little tiger, never freely give your blood.” Tegan looked up at him, lost in the stormy grey eyes, Cord dropped his hand and moved away. “You’ll bleed too freely when you fight Drakhyn, no need to throw your blood away at every opportunity.”

  “You done?” Sloane asked gruffly.

  “Yes, brother, I am done.” Casting one more undecipherable look at Tegan, he nodded curtly to them both and vanished.

  “I really hate when he does that,” Sloane grumbled as he rose. “You okay?”

  Tegan was staring at her arm, there was no mark, no slight redness from the pressure of the scalpel. “The tightness has gone.”

  “What tightness?” Sloane walked over to her and took hold of her arm, turning it over to inspect it.

  “When he drew the scalpel over my skin, it felt tight, like it was being stretched,” Tegan pulled her arm away from Sloane before shoving her sleeve down, covering her arm. “Maybe it was his spell,” she shrugged as she rocked back on her heels.

  “Spell?” Sloane looked at her in confusion. “He didn’t Cast, Tegan.”

  “Of course he did,” Tegan gave a light laugh. “I am convinced everything your brother does is a spell.” She started walking to the door, stopping to look at Sloane who was frowning in confusion.

  “Why do you think he Cast?”

  “Because his lips were moving?” Her light-hearted smile faded as she watched Sloane run his hand over his head. “What?”

  “He didn’t use anything,” Sloane looked at her worriedly.

  “He doesn’t need to, I admit I thought it was strange also, but I have seen him multiple times now, he needs no powders or potions.” She shrugged, “I confess it impressed me too,” she added grudgingly.

  “That’s not possible,” Sloane argued.

  “Why is this news to you? You’re his brother,” Tegan felt a prickle of alarm as she watched Sloane with rising anxiety.

  “Tegan, trust me, a Castor cannot Cast without aid, their powders and potions are blessed by the Ancients, the magic doesn’t come from a Castor, it comes from the strength of the blessing.”

  “Father always said they needed their components and that they were blessed. I didn’t know about the strength of the Casting,” Tegan admitted. “I have seen him Cast. He made the fireballs in the grounds the other week, he portals everywhere that will allow him. He Cast the night we were sparring,” she scowled in recollection.

  “How did you know?” Sloane strode forward. “How did you know that he Cast that night?”

  “I felt it.”

  “Impossible,” Sloane muttered. He quickly held a hand up to stop her protestations. “I’m not doubting that you believe this,” with a quick rub of his jaw, Sloane was striding
past her, “what is he up to?”

  “Is it a trick?” Tegan asked as she followed him out of the room.

  “I have no idea. Cord can be… interesting.” Sloane admitted as they walked down the hall. “We need to talk to Salem and Marcus.”

  “Maybe you just didn’t know your brother was as good as he is?” Tegan suggested tentatively.

  Sloane’s loud booming laugh startled her. “Trust me, Tegan, I know exactly how good my brother is, my parents never fail to remind me that he is Heir.”

  “How is he Heir?” Tegan blurted out.

  “He is oldest,” Sloane shrugged.

  “But he isn’t Cornelius’s son, you are.”

  “But he is more powerful, Cornelius noticed Cord’s potential at a very early age. Power is everything to my father, it didn’t matter that he didn’t sire him, he was given the Ivanov name regardless.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tegan told him softly.

  “It matters not, I’m glad it’s not me who will carry on Cornelius’s legacy,” Sloane’s quick grin was tinged with bitterness. “Dad sent me here to become Michael’s second, like Marcus is Salem’s.”

  “Well at least you and Michael are good friends,” Tegan offered lamely.

  “We weren’t always,” Sloane admitted. “Everything was a competition when we were younger. I was trying to prove to my father I was just as good as Cord while Michael was trying to live up to his father’s formidable reputation.” They walked along for a few moments in silence. “It was a few years before we learned we were better fighting together rather than against each other.”

  “You stay here all the time?”

  “Yeah, I’d rather be in a nest of Drakhyn than stay at my ancestral home.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tegan touched his arm in commiseration as they walked.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Delilah reminds all of us, every day that Cord is Heir, and if she isn’t preening about him, she is preening at a ball,” Sloane gave a mock shiver. “Cornelius is usually coming up with some grandiose plan to impress the Great Council in his bid to become Principal, or he’s waging war against supernaturals.”

  “War?”

  “He hates Vampyres and Lycans, believes they are no better than Drakhyn. He’s been punished, severely, in the past by the Great Council for his actions against them,”