Copyright © 2020 Raven Woodward
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner/publisher of this book.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Editing by Mariz C.
Cover by Avdal Designs
For Matt
Part One
The Beauty, the Barkeep, and the Anonymous Buyer
PROLOGUE
Long ago, on a little planet called Scondelade, ruled a cruel king, and a humble queen with their eleven sons—all of them, trained soldiers.
News in the galaxy spread about a wicked empress named Onoliza. She rose from her own planet, Szcourgia, and began conquering others. It was her dearest wish to rule every galaxy, and for every creature that resided within them to bow before the Empress. No one that challenged the Empress lived.
With his sons, the cruel king prepared for war, and soon Onoliza appeared on Scondelade in a shower of brilliant bolts of lightning.
War raged, destroying much of the planet, and though the Empress was not the fastest nor the most skilled fighter, she and her armies possessed magic stronger than the citizens of Scondelade’s. The Empress soon slew the king and queen. But when Onoliza saw the eldest prince, Dominicus, she smiled. For he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
She bargained that she would spare him and his brothers if he gave himself to her as a slave. The eldest prince was far too proud to ever bow before another, and he refused. Outraged, the Empress cursed all eleven of the brothers to live for all eternity, like her; but during the final cycle of the moon, they would transform into monstrous creatures, enslaved to rage and bloodlust.
The eldest prince and his brothers soon fled, in search of a way to break the curse. To many worlds they journeyed until an old seer told them of a planet far away filled with legends and myths of curses, where magic ran rampant. There, the Prince Dominicus learned of the mortal lineages that every few generations birthed a human so powerful, they’d be able to break the curse. But in order to do so, they’d have to pour out their life blood.
As the princes awaited the mortal with such magic, they soon fell prey to all the pleasures that strange new world had to offer. They became kings, feared and desired by all.
When their curse transformed them—each waning of the moon—they laid waste to the humans, seeking to sate their eternal hunger. But the princes only became more ravenous.
Wracked with guilt, Dominicus began his quest to await the one that could undo their curse. A wise crone met with the prince and told him that in order to undo his curse, he and his brothers would become mortal once more.
The second-eldest prince, Oricus, did not wish to be as weak as humans, and so the brothers split into two clans. Centuries passed, and any who were born with the power to threaten Oricus’s reign was eliminated. Hundreds of years slipped by with no magical offspring to release him from his immortal curse. Until Prince Dominicus happened upon a woman whose womb was swollen with a babe.
And the magic that the child possessed called to him. He sought to protect the unborn human, cloaking the mortal family by any means necessary.
At last, his brother’s cruelty would end.
Until one night, a baby girl was born into the world of mortals…
Onoliza
The handsome ex-prince pushed open the heavy, gilded doors as though he were the reigning monarch. Onoliza arched her hips to the young girl feasting between her thighs and smiled at the approaching man.
A tall, strong man with golden hair and cold, brilliant blue eyes. The perfect eye-candy. Luckily for her, he fucked as good as he looked.
“Pretty, pretty Oricus,” she cooed. The servant girl lapping at her slick folds paused.
Onoliza bucked against the girl’s red lips, urging her to continue.
Oricus didn’t so much as glance at the servant kneeling before the Empress when he dipped into a low, sweeping bow. “You summoned, Empress?” His breath curled, a puff of white in the cool chamber.
“Won’t you join in?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
His lips pulled into a tight smile. “Alas, I have preparations to tend to before tomorrow.”
She waved away his excuse with a dismissive gesture. “Come now, you look tense.” Her long, slender hands stroked the head that tirelessly thrust its tongue into her. Though the girl’s speed had become sluggish. No doubt the icy blue color of her usually tanned skin had something to do with it.
Onoliza pushed the girl away from her body. “Go rest, my dear. I’ll send for you in a few hours.”
The girl jerkily stood and curtsied before stalking out of the room, her teeth chattering audibly.
With a smile, Onoliza spread her legs wider in invitation. She rubbed her flat chest, at the firm nipples straining against her gown. “Won’t you put me out of my misery, Prince?”
Oricus’s jaw tightened, yet a wide smile curved his lips. She loved his lying lips and cruel eyes.
She especially loved his hard, emotionless fucks.
He climbed the stairs to her wordlessly. As he undid his trousers and let them fall to the ground, he asked, “What news do you have of my brother?”
“Ah, your brother. Such tasty-looking cheekbones.”
Oricus stroked his cock, bringing the long rod to life in his hand. “And?” he ground out as he shoved his cock into her greedy cunt.
She whimpered with delight. “He hides from me, of course.”
He thrust into her like a jackhammer before gripping her throat tightly. “You’re certain he’s not returned to Scondelade at all?”
Her smile was lazy. “I would know if he stepped foot on my planet.” She watched him carefully. The way his teeth ground together and the way he avoided looking at her alien body while he fucked her. “Won’t you reconsider living here with me? My offer still stands.”
He squeezed harder, his loathing burning in the frigid depths of his gaze. “Never.”
Onoliza giggled. She enjoyed winding him up.
Yet as he spilled his searing hot seed into her channel, she wished he’d look at her.
Perhaps find her beautiful.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. I am a monster. I deserve the hatred he flings at me.
Onoliza’s head fell back as her own orgasm racked her body. Panting, she clutched his hips and forced him deeper inside her.
When she slackened, she caught a glimpse of his lip curled in disgust.
With a sigh she straightened, letting her gauzy gown flow back over her long, lean legs, and then she shooed him. “Report to me if your brother does anything out of the ordinary.”
Oricus zipped up his trousers and strode from the room without a word.
Her chest burned with anger even after he was gone.
She had a kingdom. An entire planet filled with mortals to fuck her when and how she wanted. And he was just a mortal, created to be what she needed.
Toys. Playthings.
Disposable.
And no matter her fleeting desire to be wanted in return by Oricus or any of the Scondeladian princes, they too were disposable.
She was a conqueror.
A warrior.
“I don’t need anyone,” she told the empty room.
The silence laughed back.
Harlow
The bristles dragged paint across the canvas audibly, simple colors bringing to life the scent of pine trees and snow. A cool str
eam trickled over rocks. Birds chirped from the warmth of their nests, while the frigid air bit at Harlow’s cheeks. She breathed it in deeply.
Snickers from the back of the room jarred Harlow from the snowy mountain landscape she was creating. Her cheeks heated when she realized every set of eyes were fixed on her. It was always the same reaction when she held a paintbrush: she delved into the scenes as if they were real, and those that bore witness to her strange behavior laughed.
It was clear only one student in the room was making any real effort to duplicate the techniques she had demonstrated. She cleared her throat and got to her feet, starting around the room to check canvases.
In her two years of teaching, few that sat in her classroom had true talent, and this year was probably the worst. None of them cared about art.
Not like she did.
At the back of the room, the group of sixteen-year-old boys whose laughter had snapped her back into herself were now poorly attempting to hide their grotesque male-genitalia creations.
“Andrews. Connor. Delitae,” Harlow snapped. Their smirks remained but they sat a little straighter, as most hormone-ridden teenage boys did around her. “If you’re so interested in the male form, perhaps you’d do well from studying a live model. I can arrange a time after school for you all to really get up close and do some sketches. We can call it the extra credit you boys so desperately need.”
Their grins faded.
“I’d be more interested in studying a nude female model,” Ryan Andrews said, waggling his thick dark brows.
Holy shit was I ever this stupid, she wondered.
The two other boys burst into laughter right as the bell rang, dissolving the snide remark loaded on her tongue. Which saved her from getting an angry email from one of their parents. “I’ll set it up for you boys. Nonnegotiable,” she called after them.
They mumbled something, then burst into another round of laughter before walking out the door.
Harlow groaned as she dropped into her chair, scrubbing her hands down her face.
“That good, huh?” a strong feminine voice said.
She smiled, looking up to see Lenae leaning in the doorway. All curves, olive skin, and a wild, dark mane of curls made up Lenae Rogers. Eighth grade English teacher, and Harlow’s best friend.
Harlow simply pointed to the canvases at the back. Lenae pushed off from the wall, full lips curving before she even saw them.
“What is it about young boys that makes them feel the need to draw dicks and balls so graphically? Do they realize that if they actually looked like this, women wouldn’t come anywhere near them?”
Harlow grunted in agreement. Not that she had ever had the pleasure to properly experience a man in all his naked glory. But that was a depressing topic she didn’t want to think about right now.
“Get a drink with me?” Lenae asked, purse already slung over her shoulder.
Harlow smiled. “Yeah, why not. Just let me wash up.”
Lenae helped gather all the paint-filled brushes and palettes—most of them with far more paint than could ever be necessary.
At least a hundred dollars down the drain. Harlow tried not to cringe as she watched the murky water swirling at the bottom of the steel tub.
“Damn girl, this is really fucking good.”
She turned to find Lenae studying her half-finished painting. She could have finished it, but she had half a dozen just like it from her other classes.
“Thanks,” Harlow said, knocking the brush dry against the side of the tub and laying it down with the others. Drying her hands on the towel hanging off the cabinet door, she scrubbed at the smear of white along the ridge of her pinky.
Her heart was like a lead balloon in her chest. She’d been offered the position of art teacher directly out of university. It had seemed perfect: a steady income, and a way to pass what she knew onto the younger generations.
Yet her heart just wasn’t in it anymore.
By the time she got home every night she was too exhausted to do her own paintings. She did a few here and there, but what she really wanted was to be a full-time artist. To have her art hung in galleries in New York City.
But she couldn’t leave California. She needed her teacher’s salary, however meager it was.
And she couldn’t just uproot her entire life to move clear across the country.
Could she?
“Ready?” Lenae asked, snapping her out of her morose thoughts.
Harlow nodded, forcing a smile, and went to grab her purse from the drawer. Before switching off the light, she glanced around at the empty room and the canvases drying on their easels. The decision was made—she’d stay and teach. Her friends were here. Her life was here.
She’d just have to find time to paint without the mocking stares of kids who took her class only because they wanted an easy A.
Harlow felt the music deep within her chest all the way to her toes in her plain black pumps. Lenae’s harshly beautiful face split into a wide smile as they entered the crowded nightclub. Though Lenae was not typically a partier, Harlow had no doubt this was more her friend’s speed than a stuffy classroom discussing Shakespeare.
“I’ll get us drinks, you try to find us a table. Just bat your pretty lashes at someone if there isn’t one.” Lenae started through the throng of people before Harlow could object.
She took a deep breath, then regretted it. The stench of alcohol mixed with sweat and body odor made her nose wrinkle. She was fortunate at five foot seven—five foot nine in her current footwear—to be able to wind through the glistening, sticky bodies by being a few inches taller than most of the people in the club. Well, the majority of women anyway. Lenae was only five foot four but her hips parted crowds like the Red Sea.
People swayed and rocked to the beat, grinding their bodies on each other. It was wave after wave of undulating skin and feverish touches.
A large group of giggling girls leapt out of their booth and pranced off to the dancefloor. Harlow smiled as she took their place, ignoring the empty glasses littering the tabletop. She twisted around to look for Lenae, her eyes scanning for a familiar face.
And she found one in a shadowy alcove across the room.
Familiar grey-green eyes bored into her as though she’d disappear if he blinked. His shoulder-length blond locks looked artfully finger-tousled, which only added to his excessive good looks.
Jacob. Her neighbor who always seemed to be in the same places she was. Though they rarely spoke, he was friendly enough, if not incredibly intense.
A blonde girl in a tiny skirt and crop top that bared her bronzed midsection for all to see ran her hands up his chest, but he didn’t even seem to notice her. She stood up on her tiptoes trying to whisper something into his ear, but he was a good head taller than her, and didn’t lean down to hear whatever it was she wanted to say.
Harlow gave an awkward wave that Jacob didn’t return before his gaze slid to the girl who looked prepared to climb him like a tree. He dipped his head and muttered something to her that made her freeze. Harlow didn’t catch the girl’s expression before she stormed away, but she could imagine from the girl’s body language it was not a happy one.
She looked up to find Lenae sashaying toward her, tall glasses filled with colorful fruity drinks. A long path of head swiveled in her direction—including Jacob’s.
Harlow tried not to snort in amusement. A waitress in less clothing than half the patrons, came and wordlessly cleared away the empty glasses as Lenae sat next to Harlow and handed her a drink that smelled as equally sweet as it was potent.
“What is this?” she asked before taking a sip. Sweetness coated her tongue. Then the burn of alcohol slid down her throat. Harlow tried not to cough but was unsuccessful.
Lenae chuckled. “I’m not sure; the bartender made it special for me.”
“I bet he did,” Harlow mumbled.
Lenae elbowed her in the ribs as they both
laughed.
“So tell me what’s been going on with you lately, girl. I can tell something’s up.”
Harlow took another sip, letting the burn turn to warmth in her belly. She shrugged. “I’m just not really feeling it anymore, you know?”
Lenae paused bobbing her head to the music blasting overhead to tilt her head. “Not feeling what? You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that.”
Harlow took a bigger sip this time, enjoying the overly sweet taste. Perhaps she should have eaten something first…
“Work. Life in general, I guess.” She set her slick glass on the table. “Hey, should we have eaten dinner first?”
Lenae laughed. “I ordered us burgers.” She set her glass beside Harlow’s and turned to face her. “What do you want to do, Har?”
Harlow didn’t need to think. “I want to be a full-time artist in New York.”
Lenae’s eyes widened. “New York, huh? That’s an awfully long ways from your bestie.”
Harlow chewed the inside of her lip and shook her head. “It’s just a dream. It’ll never happen.”
“Psh. Girl, I’ve seen your art. You’re damn good. But couldn’t you be a full-time artist here in Cali?”
Harlow’s gaze slid over her friend’s shoulder and she noticed Jacob watching them intently. The same group of girls that had vacated their booth now gathered around him, all of them attempting to flirt. But he paid them as much mind as a predatory cat stalking its prey noticed an insect on a blade of grass.
She looked away to pick up her glass again and took another sip, this time hardly feeling the burn of alcohol. “I’m sure I could, it’s just…you know I grew up in New York. It’s where my family was from. It’s where they…” The rest of her sentence crumbled. But she didn’t need to finish it—Lenae nodded in understanding.
“But are you sure that’s where you want to go? They get snow and all kinds of crazy weather. Not to mention the cost of living is basically double what it is here.”
Marked for Darkness Page 1
