by Stacy Reid
She was fucking perfect.
He would need to be careful. He’d almost lost his head and cock deep inside her just a few moments ago, even though he had commanded a secret meeting to plan and lay traps for the enemy. Her enticing power as a fucking diversion was indeed strong, Ajali thought viciously. What he wanted was a sham, a cover, not the need that had pelted through him from her fragrance alone. Her unique flavor was something dark and stormy, like the essence in the air after rain and wind had raged and passed on—earthy and sensual.
The walls silently opened, and Uriah stepped in with Ajali’s King Blades, who were his cloaks and shadows. Their intent gazes flicked across the room. He noted the amused curl of his brother’s lips, and Gavyn, one of his most loyal shadows, laughed outright.
“It seems rumor of your distraction are not unfounded, my liege,” he smirked, sauntering over to an oak chair and sank into its depth.
Fuck!
Ajali looked around the room. At the singe tapestries. At the blackened fireplace. At the messy desk and the tablets and scrolls scattered on the floor. They were testimonies to his apparent temporary madness. He ignored the amusement in all their gazes. He could guess their thoughts. He had never lost control of his flames before with a lover. Never. The idea that she could wreak havoc on his famed icy restraint would make them seek her out and probably fucking sing praises to her.
“Let us begin,” he commanded, setting all revelry and teasing aside.
It was time to move his piece across the board and box in the enemy.
7
Mevia – Kingdom of Sounds
The Emperor’s stronghold dungeon
“Can it be done?” a disgustingly pure and beautiful voice asked.
“It can be done, my lord,” Princess Shilah said after a short, fearful pause.
A snarl of rage rumbled as a man thrashed in the chains constrained him. The manacles, forged from the pure valnetium iron found in the hardened core of Amagarie, were unbreakable. The Emperor’s high chancellor twisted his lips sinisterly as he observed the Darkan in chains. They had over ten chains holding it enslaved. They’d captured a female Darkan before and made the mistake of only binding her with five shackles of valnetium iron. When they had started to exorcise the demon from her, the rage and strength she’d displayed had been breathtaking. Tormented by pain, she’d burst forth with madness, and had almost destroyed all of those that held her in the dungeon before escaping over the castle walls. They had hunted her to no avail.
The emperor would not repeat their mistake with this Darkan. He was much younger than their first victim and so weaker. They could not risk working with an older Darkan but had to accept the choice of one that had only just gained access to his beast’s chakra. The older ones were too powerful, and they needed to hone their techniques and experiments before attempting to take one.
“How long?” the high chancellor snapped.
Shilah tried to hide her dread with assumed bravado, but he loved inflicting pain too much to miss the slight start of fear that filled her eyes before she quickly masked it. His lips curled in satisfaction at her quiver. Her power stirred, and she caught whiffs of his sickening thoughts.
She is so slight. Barely five feet and moves as if she walks on air.
The Princess of Dxyriah, one of the three kingdoms in Serange will become my personal slave.
I will enjoy breaking her.
Her voice was low and soft; exquisite as if she were a Mevian…I will enjoy her tongue on me.
Unable to listen to any more of his vile musings, she spoke, “The beast I touched is strong. Not as mighty as the presence that I sensed within the female Darkan, but I have learned what I could of its essence. It wants out.”
“Yes, but can you control it?” he asked with a slight pitch in his voice. He smiled cruelly as she flinched at the devastating beauty of his voice.
“I will try…”
She trailed off as a voice filled with strength entered the room.
“You will do more than try, Princess Shilah, you will succeed.” A weapon that was a voice. Powerful and evil.
The emperor, the ruler, and Ricarkri of the great nation of Mevia glided into the room. He seemed almost ageless. Power pulsated in the room. His beauty was so blinding she found herself hard pressed to look at him directly. White-blond hair hung down his back and eyes the color of gold stared down at her. But it was his voice, so achingly alluring and evil that grated at her and made her stomach roil. Bile, thick and bitter, flooded Shilah’s mouth as she tried to make herself appear as small and non-threatening as possible, lest he struck.
“How long will it take you to pull the beast from its master?”
“With the witch help it can be done in a few days, my emperor,” Shilah said reluctantly.
“Will we have full dominion over the beast?”
She chose her words with the utmost care. “We cannot kill its master as full control of the Demon will be impossible. I can pull it from the Darkan and bring it to corporeal form. But it is the master we must control, who in turn will manage his beast.”
The silence was deep. Shilah held her breath and waited for a response. She hated the Mevian emperor with all her heart. Darkans were brutal and reviled for the monster they possessed inside themselves, and he wanted to rule that evil to build an army. She pretended she did not know much about their plots and schemes, for to reveal any inkling of them would mean death for her sister. A thought Shilah could not bear.
“Do it.”
After a slight pause and a deep breath to fortify her resolve, she formed a triangle symbol with her hands and flared out her psychic aura to meet the vile evil of the beast buried inside the Darkan once more.
8
The darkness had always held Tehdra enthralled, but the sunlight seduced. She doubted she had ever seen anything as glorious as the sun rising on the horizon. The air was chilled, flavored with the coming daybreak. The dawn rose like a monster, first soft, then roaring, devouring the land and all that it touched. It swept across the mountains, the hills, and the castle, unstoppable and inevitable. It was fascinating to watch the light slowly eat away the darkness and bathe the land in its bright glow. She felt the death of her essence as the sun washed over her.
She would never get used to losing her beast once the sun appeared.
Anticipation held her captive as she waited for Ajali on the balcony over the battle arena. She had been ready for hours. The pleasure she’d tasted from her mate was all-consuming, and she wanted more. She did not want to tread lightly or with patience. Time was already ticking away. She could only stay so long in the city of Adara and the land of Nuria.
She had felt him before she saw him.
Decadent. The bite of his chakra tasted hot and spicy, yet sweet. She glided down the stairs to meet him in the center of the arena. He strolled forward with raw magnetism. It was as if he prowled in his movement like he contained a predator within him. Her eyes devoured him from his boots to the top of his head. The only color he wore was the dark blue shirt that billowed out of his pants. His hair was leashed tight with a thong, and lust fired in his gaze before he quickly banked it.
“You look like a marauding pirate,” she murmured.
There was a long blink and then that sensual smile that pleased her and made her achingly wet.
“Pirate? I am unfamiliar with the term.”
The sword came at her fast and unexpected. Even with her training session with Xian, Tehdra stumbled in her movements to catch the blade.
“You are unfamiliar with holding a sword. Xian reported as much, but I was disbelieving.” The speculation was evident in his voice.
She arched her wrist and rotated the sword to get a better feel.
“I am a swift pupil.”
Tehdra boldly met his eyes and wished that she had her essence to ferret out his feelings. Even if they were only the negative ones, that was much better than the complete blankness. She could read nothin
g from his eyes or face.
“The swords Xian used yesterday were dulled. I can feel the sharpness of this sword.”
“What you hold is a weapon. Know its danger and understand why you must respect and fear it. To do this, you train from the beginning as it is. Sharp and deadly. It will teach you how to take care from now. There will be no stages of adjustment with your weapon. From the moment it touches your hand, you are its master.”
He glided behind her and held up her hand with the sword. Tehdra shivered as it was so reminiscent of what he had done the night before, and the pleasure from the encounter still lingered.
“This sword was designed for you—sharp, lithe, perfect for cutting, thrusting, and slicing. It is a two-edged blade with valnetium iron at its core.”
Tehdra examined the sword with new eyes and tried to ignore the warmth at her back. “Made for me?”
“The castle blacksmith worked through the night to craft your weapon.”
She tilted her head, so it rested in the crook of his neck.
” Why is it so important that I know how to fight?”
“If you are just another beauty for me to bed, you are useless to me.”
"Your high chancellor told me that my time with you would be shorter than the other haris. That I will be returned with wealth but will not be a part of your harem.”
She slowly absorbed his expressions while she waited for his answer. It was almost as if he had her spellbound, but he was not a witch.
“Tell me of pirates.”
She blinked at him, bemused by the shift in topic. “They are men who roam the seas of Earth in ships, thieving and pillaging.”
He paused in the act of selecting his sword from the wall. Tehdra laughed at his expression. “I did not think you looked like a thief or a pillager. But they are daring, rakish, handsome, and that is how you appeared to me.”
“So, you think me rakish and handsome.”
“You must know of your appeal. By chance are you seeking compliments?”
The smile he gave her was laced with sensuality and something more. "I am but curious about how you see me."
“You are a fire I want to consume.”
She stilled under his piercing regard. Undeniable awareness simmered in the air.
He flashed to her, and Tehdra’s heart squeezed when he dragged a thumb across the pad of her bottom lip.
“Mayhap you are right. I can see these pouting lips pleasuring my cock, consuming my fire.”
Molten lust slid through her blood.
“You blush, hari Tehdra, which is so rare I have never witnessed it in another hari.” His voice had returned to his previous smooth and toneless inflection.
She wondered if that was what distrust sounded like.
“Guard yourself.”
He did not attack with the same vigor Xian had. He was stronger but more silent and graceful. The dance of parry and thrust transported Tehdra to another world and time. He moved with her in a rhythmic, predatory dance that was utterly enthralling. Sweat beaded down her back, and her muscles burned. She did not ask him to relent. They sparred for what seemed like hours before he stopped.
“You improve, Tehdra.”
Out of breath, she stumbled at Gavyn’s voice.
An audience of ten males stood in loose formation a few feet behind them. She did not need her darkness to ascertain she stood in the presence of danger. Something about them made her hackles rise, and not in a good way.
“Her form is that of a warrior; she has the speed and grace to be a master swordswoman.”
Pleasure suffused Tehdra at Ajali’s praise. The smile burst from her face before she could halt it, and she touched his arm. His stillness was not natural. His intent stare seared her, and her body pulsed in answering arousal. The obvious clearing of a throat broke the spell his gaze had her under, and she turned to Gavyn.
The narrowed eyed glare from Gavyn was hard to decipher, but it was not a pleasant one. The rest of the men regarded her with hard suspicion.
Ajali pulled her to his side, and her heart jolted. She tried to ignore the instinct whispering that her mate needed to touch her. More likely it was merely a ploy to get his enemy to move against him. She did not in the least rivet him.
“These are my blades.”
She lurched back when all just appeared in front of her. They had flashed so fast she had not seen them move. Impressive.
“Gavyn of the house of Westk’arr, Triton of the House of Walkhyer, Acheron of the house of Thessaly, Alexis of the house of Tyrieon. Atreus of the house of Reyd, Cadmus of the house of Assia, Solomon of the house of Tremayne, Quinn of the house of Thalame, Julius of the house of Wylliam and Andres of the house of Cathal. They are high dukes in my kingdom and my blades."
Dislike darkened their gazes. In Acheron, the contempt seemed to lash at her.
“My Lords.” She bowed gracefully and paid them the homage their titles demanded.
“We do not agree, my king.” Acheron’s tone was raspy as if it had been damaged beyond repair.
“You question my order?” Ajali practically purred, the question low and smooth, but heavy with threat. A deep silence ensued. She was missing something. A warning prickled along her spine. Where the foreboding rose from, and its exact nature, she couldn’t ascertain, but she was threatened. She saw it in the wintry gazes of his blades.
Also, something hard and cruel glinted in Gavyn’s glare—a mistrust that had not been present the day before. She shifted to get a better grip on her sword but paused to consider the satisfaction that flashed in Acheron’s eyes. All of Ajali’s blades mirrored the same gratification.
They wanted her on the defensive. If she even twitched her hand, they would attack her. The king must know but did nothing, only observed.
The stillness in the air had her sinking inside of herself to that dark place where her essence usually lay. It was absent, but coldness still spread through her being. It licked at her insides and swirled to show out of her eyes. She let the iciness shine through as she looked at his blades.
The sword in her hand could have sliced the tension in the air. Its thickness was overpowering. Acheron himself broke it.
“My king,” he said with a slight bow. “I would never question your orders, but we, as your blades, feel we must shadow your moves today.”
Something was amiss; she did not like it at all.
Tehdra gasped as hands clamped her waist and moved with her. The speed at which Ajali flashed was admirable. She could barely make out the scenery they charged past. He finally halted at what appeared to be the entrance to a cave.
“Now we are alone,” he said with a chuckle as he released her.
She allowed an unconcerned smile to touch her lips. “Did I miss something?”
“My blades object to me leaving the city without palace guards or any of my blades.”
“Leaving the city?” she parroted. This she had not expected.
He moved with dangerous grace as he faced her. “I wish to spend the day with my hari Tehdra without prying eyes.”
“We will be alone?” Heat surged through her.
“Just an illusion. My blades will ignore my orders and follow at a discreet distance.”
She did not know how to respond to that. When given an order by her dark king, she followed it absolutely. A scream pierced the air. It echoed through her frame, leaving an empty hollow feeling like she had brushed against death. A wraith landed in front of them, the force of the wind generated by its wings tumbling her hair from its knot.
It was massive, fearsome in its width and height—a monstrous creature born of darkness. It seemed shadowy and insubstantial, yet Tehdra could make out the massive body, the clawed feet, its sinewy wings, and serrated teeth. Empty sockets where eyes should’ve been seemed to suck at one’s soul. Empty, but seemingly evil.
Ajali simply appeared on its back like magic. The hand he held out to her beckoned her close. Tehdra smiled at the incongruousness
of the food basket attached to the back of the wraith. Something so deadly traveling with a picnic basket. She slapped her hands in his and let the pleasure of being so close to her mate permeate her entire being as he swung her up and seated her behind him on the formidable creature.
She understood this outing was about deceiving the enemy if they were indeed spying. And it served her purpose in every way.
9
Ajali fought the fascination that Tehdra aroused. The wraith shot through the sky with dizzying speed and her laughter poured down his throat like a fine wine. He brushed aside the delight of her laughter. She seemed free. The need to know more about her was imperative and not because he wished to bed her, but because without a doubt she was the enemy. His blades disapproved of his method. She was also a unique foe; no one could fake her level of ignorance with the sword. She was also unskilled in the sensual arts, which had left him puzzled as to what kind of infiltrator she was.
Acheron had reported his findings to Ajali in the wee hours of the morning. Master Thorne did indeed exist and had three daughters. Acheron had been relentless in tracking down all of them and had resorted to slicing open a few men with his knives to learn the location of one of the daughters, and it had still taken him hours to uncover the truth. One of the daughters had died years ago, and Tehdra assumed her identity. Master Thorne had been rewarded with several bags of gold for his silence by a cloaked figure. The man only knew if anyone were to check if one of his daughters had joined the Nurian king’s harem, he was to confirm. If not for Acheron ruthless and suspicious nature, Tehdra’s cover would have held. His blades were almost obsessed with his protection and relentlessly researched every hari that entered his kingdom, especially those in possession of black hair. They wanted to bind and torture her. It had been Ajali’s first instinct, but denial had tightened in his gut at the thought of her suffering under Acheron’s care.
