Marked for Darkness

by Raven Woodward

  “I’m fine,” she said with a weak smile. “You’re the one whose guts nearly spilled out all over the floor.”

  He rolled his eyes, then cleared his throat. “You did well. Your magic is improving.”

  “You drink blood.” She wasn’t sure why that fact had jarred her so. To complete the Mark, they had to share their blood. It hadn’t occurred to her that perhaps their beast form required something befitting a monster.

  He casually strolled past her and into the dining room. His scent washed over her, and she fought not to breathe it in deeply. “Only when I’m injured or exhausted,” he said. His side still seeped blood, but the wound was no longer gaping, as it had been in his beast form.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  “Patrolling the grounds. Restoring wards. Repairing the house.” He scowled as he threw open the door to his closet and disappeared inside.

  Harlow didn’t dare follow, though she briefly considered peeking inside. “How do you still have clothes on when you shift back to your human form?” she asked, perching on the edge of his bed.

  She heard him grunt as if in pain, and she nearly jumped to her feet. Then he said, “It’s an illusion. A complicated charm that tricks your mind into thinking I’m clothed. When I’m injured though, I’m too weak to sustain it.”

  He emerged, dressed in a pair of dark, loose jeans slung low on his chiseled waist. A few butterfly bandages held the small cut closed. Stepping further into the room, he pulled a heather grey T-shirt over his head, stretching it over his muscular frame, albeit, rather gingerly.

  “Where were you?” she asked quietly.

  He exhaled through his nose, attention flicking back to her bandaged shoulder. A measure of guilt crossed his handsome features. “I did what I had to, to get him away from you.”

  “I took him to my home planet before I snapped his neck.” He ignored Harlow’s expression slowly slipping into one of panic. “He’ll be back on his feet soon, if he’s not already. We have to be prepared for an even bigger attack.”

  “But my sister! He could find her!”

  Arian shook his head. “He’s not looking for her. It’s you he’s after.” His gaze hardened. “But even if he did, you know I’d trade anyone’s safety for your own.”

  Harlow lunged from the bed, fists flying. Arian sidestepped her before catching her fists and pulling her against him.

  “You asshole!”

  “I will not apologize for saving you from my cruel, sadistic brother, Ms. Marks,” he hissed, face inches from hers. “But they are well-guarded.”

  Harlow yanked out of his hold, glaring daggers. “She doesn’t have my powers. She is unable to defend herself and her children. I don’t care what danger comes my way, but you will leave her out of it.”

  Arian straightened his back, unruffled by her outburst. “I will always choose you, Harlow Marks.” He took a step toward her, eating up the space between them, and she retreated. “Everything I am demands your safety. I can no more fight against it than one can refuse oxygen and go on living.” Again he prowled toward her until the back of her legs hit the bed. He lunged, knocking her back. Towering over her, a hand on either side of her head, he bent to whisper by her ear, “I suggest you find a way to live with that.”

  Her lips parted as her heart expanded in her chest. She cupped his cheek and they stared into each other’s eyes, the pull of desire making Harlow’s breast swell and become weighted. Heat pooled between her legs as she felt his arousal growing against her.

  One look was all it took.

  Their mouths crashed together, hungry and feral. Arian sucked on her bottom lip and she moaned, arching her hips in response.

  The room vanished.

  Cold air stung her skin. So cold.

  Her wrists and ankles were tied to a chair, rubbed raw from fighting against them. Four unnaturally gorgeous men stood in front of her, watching. Smiling. A tube was inserted into each of her forearms, both filled with crimson.

  Harlow’s vision blurred as she tried to speak. “Help…me…” she croaked.

  Why was her head so heavy?

  The man at the front, a familiar blond, swam into focus. His shrewd grey eyes glittered with delight, his smile a cruel slash of white that made her heart skitter with fear. “Don’t worry, love,” Oricus said with not an ounce of kindness. “It’ll be better this way.”

  What will be? she wanted to ask, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate. Her head fell forward, and she realized she must have lost consciousness because when she finally looked up again, her vision was clear. And Rex was kneeling before her.

  The dark, dingy space reeked of mildew and human waste. Was it hers? Regardless, her stomach churned violently.

  “Rex, help me!” Her mouth was so dry.

  His arctic blue eyes were sad. “This will help, Har. Just hang on for me, baby.”

  Baby? He’s never called me that before. And what will help?

  Her body was searing hot, the air icy cold. Whatever they were doing to her was making her wish she was dead.

  “Arian,” she whispered. A prayer and a warning. He would find her. He would come for her.

  Rex’s gaze darkened as a storm of rage brewed within.

  “Arian can’t save you here.”

  Rex

  Voices sounded outside his room. Rex paused, listening out for Oricus. He needed to tell Oricus about the passage he found in one of the ancient texts he’d been pouring over all day.

  “Arian is weak and not just physically. He’s had some of her blood, so the next moon cycle will be hell for him,” Oricus said.

  Stretching his stiff muscles, Rex froze, listening closely.

  “Then his mate will be the clan’s bitch.” Rasimus’s deep, booming laugh was cut short by the roaring in Rex’s ears.

  The clan’s bitch? She was his mate. She belonged to him, not to the clan.

  Without preamble, Rex threw open his steel door and stormed into the corridor, cutting off Oricus and Rasimus mid-stride.

  Oricus’s lips curved upward. “Mr. Almstad,” he greeted. “How might I be of service?”

  “When we rescue Harlow, she’ll be mine alone, right? I won’t share her.” Rex’s chest felt tight. Like something inside him was trying to alert him to danger, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what. The answer floated just beyond his reach.

  “Of course, Brother!” Oricus clasped him on the shoulder before steering him in the opposite direction that he and Rasimus had just come. “We were just on our way to get you. I have another task for you.”

  “S-sure,” he answered as at last the final shreds of doubt crumbled away to nothing. Oricus was his friend. His brother. He could be trusted.

  “Excellent!” Oricus led him into the main chamber of the warehouse that was secured with thousands of locks and bolts as well as wards Rex himself helped strengthen. A steel chair sat in the middle of the room. A metal tray lay beside it, the medical instruments winking in the dim light as the men strode toward it.

  Rex’s brows slanted down. “This again? But I already gave you a pint of blood.”

  “No, no, this is a simple experimental procedure. Perfectly safe, I assure you.” Oricus forced him down into the chair harder than was truly necessary. Rasimus looked on, smiling faintly.

  Rex held still as Oricus secured the straps around his ankles and wrists. Two stands held fluid bags, one on either side of Rex. He frowned at the one that was already filled with blood.

  “What kind of procedure is this?” he asked as Oricus prepared an IV that led to the empty bag.

  “It’s a treatment meant to make you stronger. More powerful. When we go save your mate, you’ll want to be stronger than my brother or we’ll fail.”

  Rex nodded slowly. The needle slid easily into his arm when the catheter was inserted. He watched in rapt fascination as his blood slowly ran up the tube and began to fill the bag.

 
His head swam.

  “You’ll most likely briefly lose your connection to Harlow, but don’t worry: when you wake, it’ll return.” Oricus’s smile grew.

  “Are you sure his transformation will be quick?” he heard Rasimus ask in a low drone.

  Rex’s ears filled with buzzing as a sharp pinch on his other forearm alerted him to a second needle.

  But his vision grew dark.

  Everything disappeared.

  Then fire washed through his veins.

  Harlow

  Harlow didn’t know she was screaming until Arian’s voice boomed above her. He held her pinned to his chest, standing upright beside the bed.

  “What is it? What happened?” he shouted.

  “A vision,” she gasped, chest heaving. Her throat was raw and burned just like it had in the vision. The future.

  Arian’s body tensed. “Of what?” he asked calmly, pushing back the hair that clung to her clammy face.

  She let herself gulp some more air, relishing the burn in her lungs as they filled to capacity. Her hand shook as she tucked an unruly curl behind her ear, not meeting his gaze. She felt the intensity of his stare anyway—it might have melted her flesh for how hot it burned.

  “I was in an old warehouse or something. There were guys…” She swallowed hard, recalling Oricus’s hungry stare and the lust burning in the other men’s eyes. Their rapt attention as if she were a party trick. Her throat thickened.

  Arian didn’t have to ask. “Shit.”

  She couldn’t look up as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Your brother was there.”

  For some reason, Rex’s name got stuck in her throat. She still couldn’t fathom that he’d been there. Knowing she was being held against her will, yet believing that her being tied to a chair and being bled out was necessary.

  Hang on for me, baby. How far in the future would this be? He’d looked whole. Healthy. Flawless. There had been some sort of glow to him that was ethereal and alluring. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell Arian. For whatever reason, when it came to Rex, she felt the irrational need to protect him.

  Arian rose from the bed, and she finally peered up at him through her lashes, watching him run a hand through his dark hair. As if sensing her gaze, his eyes snapped to hers, holding her captive as gold surged in his irises and fought for dominance.

  “Can you paint it for me?” he asked.

  She nodded without hesitation as she got to her feet. Her toes sank into the lavish rug, curling into it as though it grounded her to the here and now. Arian followed her to her special painting room before enfolding himself in the shadows in the corner next to the window.

  As she settled onto the stool by the window overlooking the trampled meadow, she shivered. Sitting before a blank canvas, she felt her body begin to react automatically.

  She selected a brush, coated the tip of the bristles with dark color, and let her hand move. But it was unlike the other times, where she was enthralled within the vision and her body subconsciously coated an entire canvas with the scene her mind wished to capture. No, this was slower. And as the hours wore on, the image began to fade from her memory.

  Though she never once heard Arian shift, or even breathe, she felt him there, watching her. A strong, solid presence. She was thankful he stayed with her. Especially as she added the details of the men staring down at her. She tried to cast her mind back, to recall any more details about the room, but it was hazy.

  The sun lowered in the sky, casting a golden glow on the field and trees. At some point, Arian had turned on the light, illuminating Oricus’s stunning features staring at her. A shiver with invisible claws raked up her spine at the apparent desire in his eyes. She knew without a doubt that Arian saw it too. He was too still. Too quiet. A brooding shadow watching her as if the canvas would come alive at any moment.

  Her hands were smeared with dried and cracking colors, her back sore and stiff. She needed a hot shower and at least twelve hours of sleep.

  She stood with a groan, stretching her arms above her head. The shadow moved then, stepping toward her.

  “Come with me.” Arian held out a hand, tone urgent.

  “What?” She rinsed her brush in the murky fluid before patting it dry. “I need a shower. And food.” She took a step toward the door and Arian was there in front of her, his hands gripping her arms tightly.

  “I will give you all those things, but first, we need to complete the Mark. It’s the only way.”

  “We can’t and you know it!” It was a weak argument. They both knew they were standing on a rope bridge that was frayed at both ends. Still, she tried to pull herself from his grasp, but his fingers dug in.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said, noticing that the green in his eyes was completely gone. The heat surging from him another indication that his beast was yanking at its chain. “Calm down,” she breathed.

  But he wasn’t looking at her. It was at her wound, then the painting. Oricus’s face brought on a haunted expression.

  “Did he touch you?” Arian growled.

  She shook her head. “No.” But her cheeks grew hot with shame at the memory of Oricus’s lust-filled gaze. All of them that stood around her, looking as if she were both their queen and their favorite toy. In the vision, she’d felt the pain of her bonds and the dizziness that coursed through her. The nausea and the weakness in her muscles. If she had been defiled, she’d have felt it.

  A low, rumbling growl vibrated through the room. “This is the future,” he grated out. “Your future.”

  “You don’t know this will come to pass, it’s like you said—”

  Arian exploded in a blur of motion. She felt the bandage on her chest being ripped off, then her skin smarted.

  “Look at this!” he bellowed, pointing to the painting. To the three thin, angry red scars that ran from the top of her shoulder, down to her collarbone.

  She looked down at herself.

  At the three gashes that were just beginning to scab over.

  “I can change this.” Arian grabbed Harlow’s arm and began pulling her down the hallway. Back to his room.

  She dug her heels in, fighting against him. “Let me go, you brute! I haven’t agreed to this, and fear of what might happen is not a good enough reason to complete the Mark.”

  “It is for me,” he snarled, tugging her harder. She feared her arm might dislocate from her shoulder.

  Where was everyone that was supposed to be keeping Arian from losing himself to his primal instincts?

  When she opened her mouth to scream for Olivia, Arian spun her, slamming her back against the wall.

  His mouth was on her before a single sound of protest escaped. Their fingers wound together as Arian held her pinned. His taste and his scent filled her senses, drowning everything out.

  Her knees weakened and Arian slid his hands down to cup her ass and lift her off her feet. She squealed against his lips, but neither let go of the other. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he carried her the rest of the way, past his bed and into the shower.

  With one hand he blindly fumbled with the handle that started the cascade of water, the other still holding her up. His cock jumped against her belly and heat spread through her. A fire burning through her, threatening to consume them both.

  As steam filled the room, Arian set Harlow down, their mouths never parting their battle of tongues and teeth. She felt his fingers slide beneath the straps of her tank top and pull them down over her shoulders, careful not to agitate the claw marks on her chest. When the top of her shirt rolled down the swell of her breasts, Arian made an impatient sound and tore the fabric off her with ease.

  The warmth of his body and the hot water still didn’t ease the cool rush of air that caressed her sensitive buds. Harlow arched her bare chest against Arian and his arms wrapped around her. His lips kissed down her jaw, to her neck.

  She tilted her head, exposing more of her delicate flesh to him. H
is tongue flicked against it and she released her breath in a rush.

  His lips curved against her skin, then he reached for something behind her. The place where her thighs met was slick and aching.

  Ready.

  But Arian lifted his mouth from her body and instead began to wash her with a sudsy cloth. Her brow furrowed.

  His smile turned sinister. “I haven’t forgotten, Kuzukah. I intend to wash you, then make you scream my name right here in my shower.”

  A shiver of delight coursed through her. He washed her with care, avoiding the scratches altogether. Then started to wash himself.

  Harlow moved instinctively to touch him. Sliding her hands through the soapy foam that coated his chest, she savored every ridge and dip of his steel body.

  Lower, she wrapped a hand around his long, hard cock. She smiled, but silently wondered how much she could fit into her mouth. It was much bigger than any cock she’d ever seen—not that she’d seen many. The challenge sent a thread of excitement through her. With her other hand, she cupped his heavy sac. Kneaded it.

  His hiss made her head snap up. Eyes closed, he muttered something under his breath.

  She knelt down on the smooth stones. With a wicked lash of her tongue on his swollen head, she asked with false sweetness, “What was that?”

  Arian opened his eyes then. Lust and possessiveness flashed in them. “Don’t stop.”

  “I don’t plan to,” she said, surprising even herself at her sultry tone. She ran her tongue up the underside of his shaft again, feeling her mouth water. The taste of his skin made her suck the head into her mouth, tongue swirling around it. Arian’s groan of pleasure sent her other hand sliding between her thighs. She moaned onto the hard length as her fingers began their circular motions.

  “Fuck, Harlow.”

  She pulled back, watching with rapt attention as a large bead of precum surfaced. The tip of her tongue dipped into the crease, savoring his nectar. Again and again, she pumped more to the tip, then lapped it up.