“I am the thing monsters fear, Ms. Marks.” His whispering breath was hot on her lips. Against her will, her nipples hardened. “Society doesn’t have a word for what I am because they don’t know I exist. Even where I come from there are none more frightening than I. I am an imbalance in nature.”
This time when he stood, Harlow felt a pull in her chest as though she might lift off the ground.
His heat lingered, skating along her skin and pooling low in her belly.
“You were the one that gave me the key and left roses in my house. My flight to New York was upgraded to first class, the beast that followed me to Rex’s house—it was all you.” It wasn’t a question.
He was silent a moment, staring down at her. “I upgraded your flight; I left the key, yes, and a single rose the day you first entered the house. I followed you to the bartender’s apartment and I ensured the distraction that forced the two of you to evacuate the building.”
She wasn’t sure which issue to scream about first—the fact that he’d caused the fire in Rex’s apartment building, or the fact that the dozen roses left at her house were not from him.
Her lips made the decision for her. “You set his fucking apartment on fire? What the hell is wrong with you?”
His eyes burned like flames. “I couldn’t let him have you.”
She fought against her bonds. Hard. Her wrists burned when she shot as far forward as she could. “That’s not your fucking decision to make!”
Darkness flashed across his features, then Arian hissed just a breath from her face, “You’re mine!”
Harlow’s mouth fell open as she sputtered, trying to find any sort of response. By the time she was able to form the words, Arian stood at the bottom of the staircase on her left. His polished shoe paused on the first step, voice still gravelly and inhuman sounding as he said, “I must go since your disappearance yesterday morning drove me from my meetings. This room is spelled so you cannot leave. Elentis will stand guard in my absence. Be a good girl and stay put.”
“As if I have any choice, you fucking psycho,” Harlow spat.
She could just barely glimpse his smile in the dark. “Quite correct, Ms. Marks. You don’t have a choice.”
Arian
Arian’s skin felt as though it were stretched too thin. The urge to shift back into his animal form was nearly overwhelming.
Nay, the urge to sink his teeth into her soft flesh was nearly overwhelming. This was why he’d kept most of a country between them. Being near her made his beast’s primal instinct to fuck her—to complete the Mark—the only thing he could think about.
He couldn’t mate her, there was no getting around that fact. But the closer they were, the more impossible it became to resist. So even if he had no need to keep her hidden from Oricus, Arian still would have made sure she remained far from him.
Now as he rolled his head to loosen the tension in his neck, he could already feel his beast snarling, enraged that he’d left her, bound and completely at his mercy without mating her. His fists clenched at his sides as he prepared to run. It would release some pent-up aggression at the very least.
But just as he leaned forward, his eyes caught on a white box left at the edge of the warded perimeter. Arian shot over to it, careful to observe it before touching it. When he was certain the outside was not booby-trapped, he bent over and picked it up. It was only the size of a child’s shoebox, made of wood and enclosed with a simple latch. Plain, save for the bloodred crest adorning the top.
Oricus’s clan crest. Most of it was the royal insignia, but the beasts protecting his family’s mark were of great likeness to Oricus himself. Arian had seen it many times before. His brother stamped it on all his legal and illegal businesses, heedless of who might track it back to Arian.
Mouth pinched, he flicked the latch open and lifted the lid. Inside sat a milky white envelope. In red ink Arian’s name was scrawled. It was not his brother’s writing, no. Tormenting Arian was not enough. Forcing someone else to do the tormenting was definitely more Oricus’s speed.
Arian tossed the box unceremoniously to the grass and tore the envelope open. Inside was a note, and behind it, photographs. Arian’s stomach clenched. In each was a woman of nearly thirty years and with strawberry-blond hair. Shot from afar, the photos captured her getting into her car. Hugging her children. Kissing her husband.
He didn’t need to read the note to understand his brother’s meaning. Pocketing the images, Arian turned to the note.
Hand over the witch or innocent Maribelle and her lovely family will all burn in a tragic but convenient house fire.
You have twelve hours.
Arian let out a long breath. He’d thought Harlow’s sister was safe in another country and magicless. But as Oricus had proven many times over, his path to revenge was paved with the bodies of innocents that never had the chance to wonder why they’d been victims in the first place.
He crumpled the note in his fist then let it fall to the ground. Taking his phone from his pocket, he punched in Fredrik’s number. Heat swirled under his skin as his beast roared for release.
For bloodshed.
“Boss,” Fredrik greeted after the first ring.
“Get a local security detail put together for Maribelle Theroux and her family. Portsmouth, England.”
“On it.”
Arian hung up then dove into a run. As he sprinted, zooming past the country landscape, he fought to control the need to kill something.
That blond pub owner who looked at Harlow like she’d hung the stars in the sky felt like a good place to start.
But he wouldn’t. When he’d smelled Harlow’s innocence still intact, he’d decided to spare the mortal. Though taking everything worth any value from the asshole who had touched his Marked still seemed reasonable.
He’d force him from his upscale apartment then have a random inspection on his pub deem it unsafe. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t understand why it was all happening.
Erasing Harlow from his mind was the sweetest revenge. The rest was just for fun.
He could manipulate the mortal’s mind easily enough. It would be erasing the mortal from Harlow’s mind that would prove difficult.
Harlow
Harlow was working herself up to her feet just as the door to the staircase opened, then shut. Her ears strained to pick up the near-silent steps of Elentis—formerly known as Jacob—coming down. The dim lighting from the one rectangular window did little for the large room, but Harlow had managed to glean that besides a set of metal shelves and dingy toilet, the space was bare. And slightly damp.
She didn’t need the light, however, to know that Elentis carried a plate of food. The scents of butter, bacon, eggs, and warm pastries wafted over to her, making her stomach growl loudly.
“Hungry, I take it?” Elentis said in his musical, accented voice.
“Nope,” Harlow said, leaning her head against the brick wall. She was weak and dizzy, but at least she had feeling in her arms again. Letting someone spoon-feed her, however, was below her dignity.
“Aw, come now, we can hear your stomach all the way upstairs.”
She peered at him from under one eyelid. “Sorry to inconvenience you.”
Elentis chuckled as he set down the plate and a glass of water in front of her.
“No coffee?” she asked dryly.
He didn’t answer. The light caught his golden hair, making it look as though it were on fire. When he moved toward her, she backed away, her foot knocking into the plate and nearly upsetting its contents. He froze, smirk vanishing.
“No need to be so jumpy. I was just going to untie you so you could eat.” He started forward again and Harlow held still. “Didn’t think you wanted me to force feed you.”
His skin was hot, like Arian’s, just like in the nightclub when she’d assumed it was the overall temperature of the place. As his fingers brushed her wrists, untying the thick rope, Ha
rlow’s fingers flexed.
“How do you know I won’t do magic on you and escape?” she asked.
“The wards around the room neutralize all magical energy, and your blood was used to create a ward specifically designed to keep you in. I’m guessing you’re feeling rather weak right now. That’s because your magic is being suppressed.”
Harlow didn’t respond. She didn’t doubt that what he said was true. Arian had said as much before he’d left. Still she searched within herself for the well of power she’d discovered only yesterday.
Nothing.
It might have felt as though it had never existed, if not for the ache in her chest that reminded her of its absence. Like she’d lost something dear.
When Elentis finished untying her wrists, she rubbed the smarting red skin. She watched him as he stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. From head to toe she took in every detail. From his mane of golden hair to his pale green eyes, he looked almost nothing like Arian. The resemblance was subtler.
And the way he held himself looked more like that of a soldier. Arian’s every move made Harlow think he’d invented them all. Where Arian was fluid grace, Elentis was stiff. The shadows didn’t appear to be reaching for him like they did to Arian. Elentis almost seemed at odds with the darkness.
“Why did you tell me your name was Jacob? Why not just tell me your real name?”
Elentis gave a half smile. “Every few decades, we have to start over with new identities since we never age. Elentis was my born name; only my brothers use it. Jacob is my current alias. Arian is not my brother’s given name either.”
Harlow’s brows nearly shot off her face. Exactly how old were Arian and his brothers? And what was his real name? She doubted Elentis would tell her if he didn’t offer it right away.
“So,” she tried to sound casual, but her mind was having a difficult time wrapping around everything. “How old are you guys?”
Elentis’s lips twisted. “I am more than five thousand years old by your human standards.”
Harlow’s jaw dropped. “How…how is that possible?”
His smile faded as he exhaled sharply. “We were cursed.”
She quirked a single brow. “Cursed? By who? Why?”
“Eat.” He gestured to the plate at her feet. “I know you have a great many questions, and unfortunately I am not at liberty to reveal everything, but I will answer what I can.”
Slowly Harlow lowered herself to the floor, resting her back against the brick. She plucked a piece of bacon from the plate and bit off a large bite. As she chewed, she stared up at Elentis, waiting expectantly.
He too sat on the floor across from her, his forearms resting on his bent knees. “Where we’re from, our parents were rulers. My brothers and I were trained as warriors but only Arian was ever meant to inherit the throne. Before he could, however, there were rumors of an empress called Onoliza that took her army from planet to planet and conquered entire races, enslaving them. We prepared to defend our home, and when she and her armies struck, we fought. For years.
“She had powers that were undefeatable and eventually she slew our parents. But the covetous witch sought me and my brothers to be her slaves. For her…harem. When we refused to bow to the creature that took our home and our parents, she cursed us to live forever just as she does. But on the final cycle of the moon we become trapped in beast form filled only with bloodlust.”
Harlow listened, mouth agape. Was the Empress the jade-skinned woman she’d painted? It seemed too much a coincidence that the beast sitting at her feet looked exactly like the one that had attacked Harlow in her house for her to not be Onoliza.
When Elentis realized she’d stopped eating, he gave her a pointed look, and she promptly picked up another slice of bacon and scarfed it down.
He appeared hesitant for several moments. “I’m sure I’ve already said too much. But I don’t think there’s any harm in you learning a little bit about our history. Where we come from, the final moon cycle is the equivalent of six months here on Earth. That is part of the reason we came here.”
Of course, fleeing a cruel conqueror that had killed your parents was another reason, but Harlow sensed there was something deeper. But whatever it was, Elentis was not inclined to share it.
“Have you spoken to Lenae much since you’ve arrived here?” he asked after a long moment.
His question jarred her. “What?”
His lips twisted into a sort of shy smile that made Harlow blink once before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god, you like Lenae?”
His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and his nostrils flared, betraying his discomfort. “Forget I asked.”
He stood abruptly. “Finish your meal. I’ll leave you untied so you can relieve yourself and I’ll bring some pillows and blankets later.”
“Wait, that’s it? You’re just going to leave me down here?”
Striding for the stairs, he didn’t so much as pause when he said over his shoulder, “Prove yourself to be trustworthy and you can be moved to somewhere more comfortable.” He stopped on the first step flashing her a smile that was not unkind. “Somewhere that already has all of your painting supplies.”
“She’s seeing someone now I think, but she’s not the commitment type,” Harlow said, looking down at her plate.
He lingered for only a second longer before climbing the stairs, out of view.
Harlow harrumphed as she sat back against the wall, munching the last of the bacon before eating the now-cold scrambled eggs and a few bites of the glazed Danish. She polished it all off with the entire glass of water in just a few gulps.
With a sigh she stared up at the window, feeling a small portion of her strength returning. But not her magic.
Magic.
She laughed audibly, the sound bouncing off the stone walls.
She had magic.
Less than a week ago she never would have believed in men that turned into massive creatures, magic, or immortality.
In the course of a few days her entire life had tilted on its axis. And while part of it was terrifying—the whole “being detained in a gross basement by immortal men that became monsters with just a thought” thing came to mind—feeling the burst of power inside her, like shedding heavy chains, had been exhilarating.
She wanted to feel that again.
Harlow leapt to her feet and began exploring, starting with the metal shelves situated across the stairs. It took her eyes a few moments to adjust from the harsh light not shining in her face. But when it did, she took stock of the shelves. A few dust-covered jars filled with jam, peaches, pickles, and other pantry staples lined several shelves while a few crates sat on others.
She grabbed the one closest to her off the shelf, noting that it wasn’t terribly heavy. Peering inside she blinked, unsure if her eyes were betraying her.
VHS tapes packed the crate. She glimpsed several of the titles and burst into laughter. Each crate she pulled down revealed more and more VHS tapes, but the last one—by far the heaviest—was filled with CDs. Most of them was classical, but there were a wide range of genres present.
On the very bottom shelf, a large shoe-box that she hadn’t noticed before caught her attention. Harlow took it and lifted the lid.
She fell backward with a strangled scream, landing hard on her rear.
Even in the dim lighting she knew surgical tools when she saw them. But there were also handcuffs and a long knife that could be used for no other reason than torture.
Harlow scrambled to her feet and sprinted for the stairs, only to collide with an invisible barrier. Her head snapped back as she was thrown to the cold, unyielding floor. Her vision blurred and pain bloomed from the front of her skull, settling in her temples.
Undeterred, she raced for the wall with the one slender window. Her fingertips were still a foot from the bottom ledge. She jumped, trying to make purchase, but her fingers slipped. Again, she jumped
, this time managing to hang on. Shakily, one hand lifted from the sill and fumbled blindly for a latch.
There was none.
Her grip slipped and she fell at an angle. With a twist her ankle popped, and Harlow crumpled to the floor with a gasp. Dull heat collected in her ankle as it began to swell. The pain made her head spin.
She gingerly felt the joint, checking for a break. When she didn’t find one, she sighed in relief. It was either fractured or sprained.
Harlow guessed from the purpling of her skin that it was the former. Her chest heaved as she scooted herself carefully back into the sunlight. The position of the sun had already shifted the area that was warmed. Soothed by it, Harlow lay down, careful to prop her ankle on her other calf.
She squeezed her eyes shut as a single tear slipped down her cheek.
Of two things she was certain. First, she was being kept in the basement of a criminal’s house. And second…
She would most likely not be leaving alive.
Harlow let the warm sun coat her like a blanket as her mind drifted from Lenae to Rex to her parents, then to her sister. Rex no longer knew Harlow existed. Just like her parents, he was lost to her forever.
Lenae would never hear from her again. She’d likely assume that Harlow forgot about her. As for her sister, they didn’t talk often, and Harlow had already spent so long regretting that fact. If she’d just move to England with her sister when she’d offered, then perhaps they’d still be close. Perhaps she wouldn’t be in some psycho’s basement.
She wouldn’t get to say goodbye to her best friend or her sister. Or see her nephews again.
More tears coursed down her face, salting her lips until they dried, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
She awoke to a raspy whisper calling her name. Her eyes flew open, noticing at once that the sun had gone down. A blanket slipped down her shoulders when she sat upright, trying desperately to see through the depthless black.
Marked for Darkness Page 12
