Glancing at the time again, he saw there was only five minutes to go. Just before he shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket, however, it rang.
Fredrik’s contact lit up the screen.
“Yes?”
“We had to move them,” Fredrik said in his lilting Irish accent. “A fire broke out, but we managed to get them out.”
“Where are they now?”
“Green Eight.”
Relief and trepidation flooded Arian all at once. The former because that meant they were in South America. The latter because the code was used when his men believed they were being followed or watched.
“How many hired hands do you have?” Arian asked.
“Thirty left. There was a skirmish in the move.”
“But they’re all safe?”
“Yes.”
A commotion sounded on the other end of the phone, and Arian strained to hear. “What is it?”
Fredrik’s reply was garbled.
“Fredrik?”
The door opened, and Harlow stepped out.
Arian’s jaw dropped just as the line went dead. He swallowed hard as he silenced his phone and stowed it.
Torn between calling Fredrik back and ravishing the woman before him, Arian took a step forward.
She smiled tentatively, her wild mane of red curls tamed and styled half up, with the rest draped over one shoulder. Dressed in a floor-length sheath dress of glittering gold, she looked every bit the prize Arian so desperately wanted to claim.
He extended a hand for her and she took it. Subtly, her own gaze swept over him. A small, appreciative smile curled her glossy lips.
Bringing her hand up, he paused with his lips just above her pale skin and whispered, “You look magnificent.”
Her smile twisted to the side. “So do you.”
“Thank you,” he answered as he led her to her seat.
Only then did she seem to notice the waning sunset and the quaint dinner table. Her lips parted as she took in the colors splashed across the sky, where stars began to blink into view.
When he pulled out her chair, she sank into it without question. Her smile was wide and genuine. It lit her eyes, making his chest hurt.
Arian grabbed the blanket from the chairback and draped it over her shoulders, before taking his seat.
“Who is Fredrik?” Harlow asked, folding her hands in her lap. The solar lamps hanging from the roof began to glow as the final rays of the sun slowly descended from view.
It wasn’t surprising she’d heard him, though he’d hoped to avoid sharing his brief conversation with her. Without missing a beat, he answered, “Another member of my clan.”
“Is everything okay?”
The front door opened again—mercifully saving him from a reply—to a string of servants, carrying plates, and a bottle of wine.
When they set the dishes down, Harlow thanked them without looking at what she’d been served. Only after their glasses were filled with wine and the servants had disappeared inside the house did she look down.
“What on earth is this?”
“I thought you might like to try various foods from my home.” Arian smiled, more than a little pleased with her wide-eyed expression.
Bulbous root vegetables in various shades of purple, blue and grey made up part of her plate, the other was a casserole his mother had made for him and his brothers many times when they were young, which included the hide of rython.
She stabbed at a chunk of the battered, red-stained fish in curiosity, but not disgust. It was mixed with bright, chopped algae and gultear—a type of soft, fermented cheese.
“And this is?”
“Delicious,” Arian said with a smile before spearing a forkful and putting it into his mouth.
The creamy, savory flavor cascaded through him with memories too vivid to force away. His throat thickened as his mother’s warm, smiling face filled his mind.
Harlow watched him with interest. “Well, it’s either really good, or really bad, judging by your expression,” she said.
He swallowed, then took a sip of wine. “My mother used to make this for me when I was young.” He smiled. “It brings back old memories.”
She scooped a small bite onto the tines of her fork and pulled it off with her teeth. He waited as she chewed thoughtfully. Her head cocked to the side. “Wow, I have nothing to compare that to. It’s so good!”
He laughed as she took another bite, larger this time. Her eyes closed in enjoyment. Arian’s heart tripped as he found himself reaching for her face. His thumb brushed away the crumb at the corner of her mouth, and her eyes fluttered open.
They stared at each other silently for several moments. He traced her full bottom lip, feeling the desire to lean over the table and do so with his tongue.
She cleared her throat, snapping him back into himself. He retracted his hand, mentally cursing himself. Cursing their invisible bond.
Cursing his damned existence.
“You’ve barely touched your plate,” Harlow pointed out. A small, tentative smile played on her lips.
Arian speared a violet vegetable with his fork and shoved it into his mouth. This time, he barely tasted it. Nor the other bites he ate as they dined in utter silence.
He couldn’t do this, befriend her.
What was he thinking? His need for her was too great. Even now, his body was being pulled toward her as though she were reeling him in.
“Tell me more about your home,” Harlow said, once again shattering his isolated thoughts.
Arian washed down his food with a gulp of wine before leaning back in his seat. “There’s not much to tell.”
“Well clearly, even the food is different,” she said waving a hand at the spread. “What else?”
Arian considered for a moment. “You’ve seen it. You’ve painted it.”
Harlow’s lips parted on a breath. “You mean there really is a place with three suns and…” She paused, trying to recall the details of her other paintings. “Five moons?”
He shook his head. “There are four suns and six moons. And yes, everything is different to some degree. For about three weeks a year during Saule all four suns are visible, but it’s blistering miserable. Our years are longer, therefore our seasons are as well. Saule is our summer; it’s about six months long and there is no night. In Jul’tag and Mkorath—that is our spring and autumn respectively—there is equal night and day but they are short seasons. During Lunvet, which is our winter, it is essentially six months of cold night. Which is why my brothers and I left. Being trapped as a beast for all of Lunvet is madness.”
Harlow’s brows rose. “How does anything grow in nothing but night?”
Arian tipped his head to the vegetables on the plate. “These thrive in cold, dark climates. Like here on your planet, there is a season for everything. We trade as you do for what we need.”
Harlow sipped her wine, expression eager. “Are there flying cars? Is it more advanced than Earth?”
Arian’s smile slipped. “There was a time when we were more advanced: before Onoliza took over. She rules with slavery and cruelty, and there is no room for technological advances when everyone is simply trying to survive.”
She set her glass down so hard, white wine splashed the back of her hand, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Isn’t there anything you can do? That’s no way to live.”
Arian sat forward with a sigh. “Trust me, if there was anything we could do, I’d have done it already. I battled her, as did my brothers. If together with our army we were not successful, there certainly won’t be anything I can do on my own.”
Harlow’s face fell. And damn if Arian’s heart didn’t give a pang of sadness at the sight. He straightened.
“To just know your people are suffering though. There must be some way to at least entrap her.”
Arian reached across the table and gripped her hand. The action se
emed to startle her, and the crease between her brows vanished. “Do not worry yourself. She has ruled my home for many centuries. It is only a matter of time before she sets her sights on another planet to conquer. When that happens, we’ll be ready.”
Her dainty hand was warm, and her sweet scent wrapped around him, urging him closer. He released her to pick up his fork once more, lest he be tempted to reach for her again. Her eyes lowered in obvious disappointment.
“Why don’t you ever mention the name of your home? Surely it has one?”
He swallowed thickly as the lie poured from his tongue. “Of course, but it’s difficult for humans to pronounce.” His lips tilted to the side in what he hoped was an easy smile. He wasn’t sure why he lied. The truth might have brought with it more questions, but she was his Marked. If anyone deserved the truth it was her.
“Actually.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not difficult to pronounce. I don’t speak it because the Empress can spy on anyone who says it. I’m not really sure why I lied. You deserve the truth. Our…friendship deserves truth. Don’t you think?”
Her lips curved up in a delicate smile. “I agree. I’m very sorry that you can’t even speak the name of your home. That must be hard.”
Arian shrugged.
Pushing the last of her food around on her plate, she said, “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you come from a different planet, yet we’re not so different.”
He frowned. “I am different. It’s best that you remember that fact.”
She shook her head, smiling. “Not in the ways that count.”
A flare of sudden irritation suffused him. “I’ve lived longer than the entire line of your ancestors and will go on living long after your world destroys itself with its selfish, destructive ways.”
Harlow’s eyes widened, and a flicker of fear passed over them. Then it morphed into her own anger. “I’m not sure why you feel the need to bring that up every time we talk, but I get it, okay? You’re stupidly old and you can’t die. Noted.” She pushed up from her seat, cheeks flushed. Her sapphire blue eyes shone as though lit from within.
Arian was up and around the table in a blink. She stumbled back, the dishes rattling when the back of her legs hit the wood. Gripping her bicep, he leaned close.
So close.
Her scent was everywhere, and her lips…
Arian wet his own. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he rasped.
She blinked rapidly, stunned, but didn’t try to move away.
“I wish I could tell you more, Ms. Marks. About my home planet, about me, about everything. But it is best that you know as little as possible. At least for now.”
“Why?” The word was a whisper against his lips.
“The extent of my curse goes far beyond just my transformation to a beast. My brothers and I belong to the Empress. That’s all I can say.”
The tension in the air thickened. Harlow’s gaze searched his own, dipping to his lips then back. Her breathing was shallow. The moment he smelled the alluring scent of her arousal, the beast roared to life.
Arian’s hand snaked around Harlow’s waist, pulling her flush against him. He felt her nipples harden to pebbles, straining against the thin material of her dress. A low noise of pleasure rumbled in his throat.
His mate aroused and pressed against him—the sensation was intoxicating.
Her pulse thundered, a visible movement on her neck that made his canines ache. Their breaths mingled, until at last, Arian closed the distance. Slowly, at first, he tasted her. His hands slid up her curves. Exploring. Savoring. He struggled not to toss aside everything on the table and lay her down.
Harlow felt her way up his chest, under his suit jacket. There was something savagely primal about his mate touching him. Wanting him.
The kiss turned hungry; their touches became feverish.
Take her.
Possess her.
Against his will, his canines lengthened, scraping the thin, sensitive skin inside her bottom lip. A drop of sweet blood spread over his tongue.
Harlow jumped away, skirting the table. The air that crashed between them like a wall was bitterly cold. She held her hand to her lip where another bead of crimson bloomed.
Arian stared at it. Fixated. His chest heaved with ragged breaths.
The beast roared its defiance at their separation. Arian took a step toward her, feeling his irises pulsing. His body fighting against the change.
Harlow backed up another step, maintaining her distance. There was no fear in her eyes, however. The latent desire had evaporated: only confusion remained.
And sense began to trickle in.
This was not keeping his distance.
Josirus was right. They couldn’t be friends. And Arian couldn’t be trusted to be alone with Harlow anymore.
With a rough snarl, Arian stalked past her and into the house, letting the door slam behind him.
Rex
His veins seared and his vision blurred. Rex stumbled down the front steps, his footfalls heavy. Loud.
The night sky was a blanket of darkness. Tucked behind the clouds, the moon offered little light and the stars seemed to burn dimmer.
Or perhaps it was just the pulsing, pounding, relentless pressure in his skull muting everything. His bare feet felt hot in comparison to the cool, wet grass. Toward the trees he hurried as fast as he could. They swayed to and fro, and he reached for them.
Almost there.
Too long.
It had been too long since he’d last found his release.
His skin was too tight.
Too tight.
Too tight!
His stomach churned and he doubled over to empty its contents on the wet ground.
A little further.
Rex forced himself to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and carry on. The smell of the bark and the damp earth called to him. A song only for his ears.
Faster he hurried.
His foot caught a branch and he fell forward. Hands extended, he caught himself. Whispers from the ground grew louder, a siren’s song.
Louder.
Louder.
LOUDER.
Rex buried his fingers beneath the dead leaves and brittle pine needles until they sank into the rich earth. He sighed in relief and the ground’s fingers wound through his.
It’ll be okay, it seemed to say.
Then he let it go.
The sick, poisonous energy that raged inside him.
Boom!
The forest trembled, but the ground absorbed most of it.
That’s it, the earth cooed. Give it all to me.
It poured from him: the heat. The pain. Blinding him. Rex pressed his face to the ground. As bright as a small sun, the light shone behind his lids.
Then it was over. His veins cooled. No longer did his skin feel taut. The pounding in his temples lessened.
His body sagged in relief.
He allowed his breathing to return to normal. For sense to wade back in.
A branch snapped somewhere to his left, and his head shot up. Panic jolted through him. Had someone seen?
“Hello?” he called to the ensuing silence.
Rex listened intently as he got to his feet and brushed off his hands on his jeans. After several seconds he determined it was likely just an animal—though after a release, the forest usually emptied.
Turning back in the direction of his mother’s house, he set off. Another crunch of leaves sounded from behind him, and he spun. Blackness hung like a veil before him.
Slowly he turned around. As he began to walk again, a gust of wind blew to his right. He swerved toward it, brows drawn together in confusion.
The same thing happened on his left, and Rex stopped.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
A deep laugh carried through the trees, all around him.
“Hello?”
Just as he turned, a coarse bag was shoved over his head. Rex fought against it, pulling at it when a kick landed to his abdomen. The air left him in a whoosh, and he toppled over.
He opened his mouth to speak just as a voice said somewhere to his left, “I told you I sensed more than one.”
Then a sharp blow to his temple sent the world sideways.
And nothingness embraced him.
Harlow
She sat on the stool in her art room, fingering the light wooden brush as she stared out the window. The tall grass swayed in the breeze. Pale yellows and soft pinks were beginning to bloom, painting the meadow in color.
Though she told herself not to look for him, she found that she couldn’t help herself. Their kiss the night before made Harlow more confused than ever. After hearing about his homeland and sharing in a treasured memory, she’d felt as though perhaps they truly could be friends.
Yet his presence was large and commanding and had driven her right into his arms. She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, and she knew he was attracted to her too. She’d seen it in the way he’d nearly lost control.
Whether he was mad that she’d broken the kiss, or it was something else, she’d gone to sleep nursing the sting of rejection that had eased into a dull burning anger. He’d had no reason to be angry with her. He’d kissed her first, then his damned vampire teeth had cut her.
She’d done nothing wrong. As usual, the dark, brooding man had demonstrated why he was all wrong for her.
And yet…
She sighed. And yet there’s something about him that pulls me in no matter how much I want to ignore it. Moving her gaze from the window, she focused back on the blank canvas before her. The scent of her oils awaited her. With a smile, she dipped her brush into the white.
Then the room vanished.
Before her sat a throne she’d seen before, but instead of the regal, jade-skinned woman, another filled the elegant seat.
One with fiery red curls that tumbled down her shoulders and eyes cut from ice. Harlow stood, looking up at a slightly older, fiercer version of herself. A delicate crown carved from jagged purple stone sat atop her head. There was something otherworldly about herself. Her skin was paler, yet flawless. The smattering of freckles on her cheeks was gone. Her cheekbones more pronounced, jaw sharper somehow. The scar she’d expected to see on the back of her hand—which brushed against the man sitting beside her—was absent.
Marked for Darkness Page 16
