Deadly Secrets: Paranormal Reverse Harem (Dark Realms Book 1)

by Abby James

  I snagged the phone with the tips of my thumb and forefinger and slowly dragged it out of his pocket and free from under the animal.

  Myles had a portable phone, but no one else in Ladec had need of them. “I don’t know how to use it.”

  “Bring it here.”

  I could barely make out his expression under the blood, but his mouth set in a grimace. He looked to be struggling with something, grunting in pain. Finally he managed to free one of his hands from under the animal. I handed him the phone, feeling sure that’s why he went to the exhaustion of freeing himself. His hand tremored as he took it. The animal covered most of his body, obscuring the real damage. With the ferocity with which the animal attacked, it couldn’t be good.

  “There’s too much blood,” he said. “I need your help. You’ll need to enter this passcode.”

  He slowly recited the numbers, taking small gasps of air in between each. It was terrible to listen to. I punched in each, making sure I chose correctly, for I didn’t want him to recite them again. With the last code, the screen changed.

  “You can give it to me now.”

  I handed the phone back and watched while he jabbed at the screen with his thumb, then held it to his ear. After a few seconds, he spoke, forcing the words out no matter how hard it was for him to speak. “We’re in trouble. Maker’s Rise.” His arm slumped onto the animal’s body as the phone slid to the ground.

  “We wait,” was all he said, then shut his eyes.

  I remained kneeling, staring down at him, focusing on the small flicker of life I saw in the shallow rise and fall of his chest. My own heart pumped so fast the blood channeled through my veins like lightning. What would I do if his chest stopped moving? I could only hope the pressure from the weight of the animal was enough to help stem the bleeding. The ground surrounding him had darkened with blood, but I was unsure how much belonged to him. I’d seen it claw at his stomach and its head now lay on the dirt close to his shoulder, where it had left a large wound.

  Thank god Chett instructed me to wear casual clothes, which Marnena had scurried off to purchase, as it meant I could cover the wound at his shoulder with my jacket. Placing it over the wound, I applied the slightest pressure, which was likely not effective in slowing the flow, and Picard groaned, so l lessened the pressure even more. I had limited medical experience, shocking given my old job, but everyone working the mine grew lax because there were no inspectors to ensure adequate safety standards. I shuffled to sit on my ass, kept my hand resting on my jacket and slumped forward as defeat overtook me.

  It felt like hours passed by the time I heard a car engine. I leaned close to Picard. “They’re here.” Whoever they were. At this moment it didn’t matter.

  My heart all but leaped out of my chest when he opened his eyes. “They’ve come.” I wasn’t sure how well he saw my face, but my smile hurt my cheeks.

  I stood, able to leave Picard’s side with the arrival of help. Wheels squealed as the car zoomed its way up the winding road. In no time, the headlights broke through the trees into my eyes. Without slowing, it cut the distance across the clearing, braking at the last, spraying a trail of gravel.

  Three car doors opened. Sargon was first out, followed by Ryker and Chett. They rushed over, taking in the sight in one sweep.

  “Get in the truck,” Sargon barked without looking at me but there was no doubt who he meant.

  After the terror of watching Picard mauled, and then the fear of sitting with him, waiting for him to die, everything that had happened rolled up my throat in a great wave, threatening to spew out. But the three of them moved past me and crouched by Picard. He was more important. I pressed my mouth shut and headed for the back of the truck.

  Hearing a crash in the trees to my left and a heavy thud as something hit the ground, I spun to find the animal gone. Somehow they’d taken care of the carcass super quick. An animal that size, which I couldn’t budge, surely they hadn’t just thrown it away. From this distance, I couldn’t see the extent of Picard’s injuries, but at least he raised his arm enough for Sargon to clasp his hand in a tight grip for reassurance.

  As if he weighed nothing, Sargon slid his hands underneath and hoisted Picard from the ground. Picard’s strangled growl was testament to the pain. I doubted he would’ve willingly made any sound with the three of them around.

  Sargon settled Picard gently in the back of the truck next to me. With the interior lights, I finally saw the horror of his wounds. My eyes stung, but I refused to let the tears fall or glance away as Picard inched his head around to look at me.

  “Not quite the date I had in mind.”

  My smile wouldn’t come, nor any words. Instead, I took his blood-soaked hand and held it tight. Chett stuck his head in, swept his gaze from Picard to me, then backed away. His expression was black. At first I worried about how much trouble Picard would be in, but no sooner had the thought arisen than it was destroyed by the possibility that Picard might not survive. I turned away from Chett to look out my window. My hand shook as I wiped a few strands of hair from my face.

  “I’ll take the bike,” Chett yelled across at Sargon as he marched away. Once the other two were in, Sargon shredded gravel, getting us out of the carpark. He was just as fierce on the drive down, taking the corners tight or going wide to shave off even a few seconds from our journey.

  I’d expected him to drive straight to a medical facility so was stunned when we swung around the back of the Arena and in through two large metal gates, which were already opening as we turned off the cobbled street. The gates rumbled and creaked closed once Chett pulled through on the motorbike.

  “Take care of Malachi, then come straight down,” Sargon said as he climbed out.

  During the drive, Picard’s grip on my hand had grown weak. With the interior light turning on once the door opened, I leaned over him, checking for the rhythmic rise of his chest. I clenched more tears back at the sight of the mess the animal had made of his front, but saw the faint rise that signaled he was still alive and collapsed my head back on the headrest. Thank god.

  Ryker rested his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Beside me, Sargon maneuvered Picard out the truck door, managing his weight on his own, somehow, without showing any strain. He wasted no time disappearing into the lower level of the Arena through a side door.

  “I thought we would’ve taken him to a medical facility.”

  “Don’t worry about Picard.”

  “How can I not? He must be only just holding on.”

  Ryker took my hand. “I’m sorry, there’s nowhere in the Arena comfortable enough but I will be able to get you a drink to take the edge off tonight.”

  Ryker’s soothing words and warm hand cracked the tough armor I’d pulled on to stop myself from falling apart. Out poured the fear and with it the tears. I covered my face with my free hand and looked away.

  Ryker pulled me into his arms so my face was buried in his chest. “Everything will be all right, Malachi.”

  I nodded my head, which wiped my tears onto his shirt. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like this. Perhaps not since I was young, before my father died. Maybe he’d been the last man to hold me with such compassion. My arms became a vise, squeezing him tight as if I feared he would disappear and leave me feeling small, alone and miserable. I’d never wanted to be this way around the three of them.

  Ryker returned my embrace, resting his lips on the top of my head, the touch soothing and intimate. Finally he whispered, “I need to get down to Chett and Sargon. Let’s get you inside with a drink first.”

  Of course, our biggest concern was Picard, not me. I shouldn’t be monopolizing Ryker’s time. Thanks to my training, the warren that was the dungeon of the Arena felt familiar. Ryker led me into Sargon’s private chamber and set me down on a wooden carved bench tucked up against the far wall. The Arena wasn’t a place for niceties, which meant there was nowhere else any better than where I was ri
ght now.

  “I’ll be back with your drink.”

  He exited via a small carved door in the stone wall to the side of the chamber, where Sargon kept a cooler full of drinks and snacks for after hard training sessions. It also happened to be the shower recess.

  Sargon had discarded my jacket when he picked Picard up, and given the situation, no one, including me, thought to retrieve it. That left goose bumps gathering along my arms as I sat slumped against the wall, focusing on the cold stone at my back. What small light was coming from the orbs on the wall disguised the blood on my hands and the still wet dark stains on my jeans.

  In this quiet moment I relived the visions of tonight. Closing my eyes brought the worst of them to the fore. Would I be able to sleep tonight? And any night after that? Unlikely. If Picard knew such creatures lived in the mountains around Fortescue, why had he taken us there alone?

  The sound of Ryker’s returning footfalls was a welcome distraction. “What’s this?” I asked as he handed me a drink.

  “Something to relax your nerves.”

  I sniffed first and found the smell unpleasant. I must’ve wrinkled my nose because he said, “Drink it. It will relax you. And the taste is better than the smell.”

  I took a sip only for the warm liquid to burn my throat all the way down. I coughed and Ryker took the glass out of my hand before I wore it or wasted it on the floor. He sat beside me and rubbed my back, which wasn’t necessary but the touch was soothing.

  “Why did Sargon bring Picard here?”

  “This is the best place for him.”

  “The Arena? But it’s hardly sterile.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  “Sweet Jesus, do you think he’s going to die?”

  “No, not at all.” He placed a hand on my knee. “It’s not what I meant.”

  He stared between his thighs for a moment. I got the distinct impression he wanted to say something but struggled to find the right words, so I allowed the silence, waiting to hear what he would say. Finally he glanced at me. “Can you tell me what happened tonight?”

  I’d hoped he would elaborate on why they brought Picard here, not ask me a question. Unless they had a medical facility tucked deep in the depths of the dungeon, this place was as helpful as sitting on Maker’s Rise. And his question would force me to relive the experience.

  “You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. There’s time for the details.”

  “It burst from the bushes. Came straight for us without slowing. And it was huge. There was no way Picard could’ve hoped to win.”

  Ryker took my hand as the tears wobbled the last of my sentence.

  “You know what? We don’t have to talk about it. Not now.”

  “Maybe it’s not a bad idea. I don’t think I’m going to be sleeping anytime soon. You saw it. What was it?”

  “A wolf.”

  “I’ve only seen wolves in books. And they didn’t look like that.”

  “That’s because they’re not normally like that.”

  “I don’t understand. Has it migrated from elsewhere?”

  Ryker stretched his neck back. “You could say that.”

  Why did I get the feeling he was deliberately being vague? “I get it. You don’t want to say.”

  “At this point, you wouldn’t understand. You’re not ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “Look, I’d better join the other two. Before I go, I want you to do something for me.”

  “What is it?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Now?”

  “Sure.” He brushed his fingers down over my eyes, gently closing my lids for me. He shifted on the bench beside me, positioning himself closer, if the faint tinkle of his breath along my neck was anything to go by. What was he doing?

  His hand touched my skin, running down to my shoulders. “You’re very tense.”

  “Tonight hasn’t been a night for relaxing.”

  With a firm pressure, he worked his fingers into the stiff places, ironing out the knots. At any other time, I might have moaned in enjoyment. His breath came on my throat again. “Relax, Malachi, surrender.”

  And that’s exactly what I did for him. My limbs became heavy. My body drooped forward as Ryker’s magical hands continued to place firm pressure on key spots along my shoulders and into the nape of my neck. He blew a cool breath along the places his hands had been. Soon his touch began to fade as my mind slowly turned blank.

  Chapter 25

  Sargon gazed down at the young woman asleep in his bed. There was so much of her father in her, except for her pale complexion. That had to be her mother’s. He barely remembered Morgainne. She’d shunned an extravagant lifestyle, appearing at social engagements only when tradition prevented her from hiding away, which only increased the public’s fascination with her. Many had adored her because of her story—beautiful young woman from the slums who rose up to marry into the most powerful position a woman could hold in Fortescue. They’d wept the loss of the fairy tale when it ended bitterly. But cruel gossip said it served Morgainne right for thinking to rise above her station. Of course, most of that was spread by his mother.

  Certain key figures on the council were responsible for returning Seb to Fortescue, and no doubt it was his mother’s whisperings that included Malachi. A boy was never meant to hate his mother; it ate Sargon inside. He knew she played a big part in allowing the northerns through, and on many occasions, he wished she would find her way across the border and into King Idrus’s bed rather than stay in Fortescue to haunt him. But she would make too powerful an enemy from over there. Anyone else and he would’ve had them secretly removed, housed in the dungeons so they couldn’t be a threat any longer, but his mother… Even loathing her, the familial link prevented him from touching her, and it might well be his greatest mistake.

  Sargon refocused his attention on the girl. Thanks to Ryker, Malachi slept peacefully. If only Sargon could say the same. Neither Ryker nor Chett was comfortable allowing her into their beds after what both had experienced when getting too close to her. Sargon wasn’t sure if he liked the idea himself, but he wasn’t comfortable in returning her to Miss Tule just yet. When she woke, she would want answers, primarily about Picard’s health. After everything she’d experienced, he wanted to ease her mind that Picard was alive. But that was not the only reason.

  Malachi was affecting them all in subtle ways, and none of them understood why. With their senses enhancing daily and their primal drives increasingly dictating their thoughts and actions, women were suddenly of primarily interest to all of them. But for some strange reason, Malachi was their greatest weakness. Something about her sparked a deep resonance, which cored down into the pit of their new awareness. Not only was she the target of his mother’s wrath, she was the target of the three’s growing hunger. Maybe it was dangerous having her close to him…alone, but at the last, he turned in the direction of his home rather than continue on to Miss Tule’s

  Dammit. Sargon fisted his hands by his sides and paced away to the window. The situation was sliding from bad to hell and he was struggling to keep up. The change was disrupting them all. They needed time to gain control of the strange darkness that was consuming them, but sources told him the rebels were making headway in their recruitment of mercenaries, some as far as Invicneus, their eastern neighbor. But that was not the least of his worries regarding the group. At some point it was likely his mother, or Archard, would decide the rebels were a handy tool at unsettling the territory from within. And after last night, Sargon feared what weapons they could be supplied. The heavy echo of his latest nightmare remained heavy in his heart. In this vision, he’d seen everything he held dear destroyed. And for once, he feared it was more a premonition than a nightmare.

  The ancient text spoke of another font, buried deep in the north. With the discovery of a second source of power, the north had challenged their powerful rulers in the south, which ultimately l
ed to the final war that destroyed the ancients and the power that drove them to destruction. The attack on Picard confirmed Sargon’s fears. King Idrus had found the source. And the wolf was his warning shot. But King Idrus was too smart to reveal his cards so soon and for such an unimportant target. Picard had been sure the wolf was after Malachi, not him; even in his deathly state, it was the one thing he wanted the three of them to know. Killing Malachi was nothing more than revenge, which twisted the finger back to his mother. Perhaps her continual support to his cause was contingent on him doing her a favor.

  Sargon ducked his head and rubbed his forehead, where the ache in his temples threatened to form. When he closed his eyes these days, he saw nothing but death. King Idrus was rolling the dice, his mother was lining up the pieces and Sargon would be forced to play. With both the fonts in the north and south tapped, they were set on a course to rewind history.

  The slow and steady rhythm of Malachi’s heartbeat increased. The soft swishing sound of her body moving across the sheets alerted him to her waking up. With her movement came the soft waft of her scent. The perfumes, oils and creams she applied had dulled, but the truer smells, the ones that were distinctly her, came to him. Sargon closed his eyes as her delicate aroma awoke the slumbering darkness within. He backed away from the window and turned toward her as she stretched her limbs, not fully awake yet.

  Ryker and Chett had been right, she was intoxicating. Sargon prowled toward her as his senses were enriched by the pulsing of her blood, a powerful elixir he was ravenous to taste. The saliva pooled in his mouth, forcing him to swallow. Picard’s blood last night had not affected him as much, not made him so desperate, so chained and weak, a slave to the dark master buried deep within but which was becoming the man he was.

  Malachi flicked her eyes open, jerked when she spied him, then sprung up to half sitting, looking under the sheet to check for her clothes. When she saw she was fully dressed, she inched back down. “Hi.”