This is not love. This is a burning passion, a desire for each other’s taste and nothing more. Love does not exist, Ari thought to herself as she continued to thrust herself against Vinn. She let out a moan again as Vinn worked his mouth down her chest and he closed it around her nipple.
Love does not exist. Love does not –
Vinn swung Ariadna over until she lay flat on the bed, her eyes now able to gaze up at the canopy above. His lips met hers again, whilst he pumped his fingers in between her thighs, causing her to arch her back and give in to him.
If this was what she had to do to gain permission to leave the Institute and start on her own list of names, Ariadna had long ago decided that Vinn could use her to his heart’s content, as long as she was granted the freedom she needed.
Vinn swung Ariadna’s legs over his shoulders and lowered his head in between them. He felt her jolt at the first flick of his tongue and her fingers entangled in his hair as Vinn continued. They could still hear the noise of the hall above, in the distance. There came no signs of it ending soon.
Ariadna’s breathing grew ragged. She enjoyed sex, gods knew she did, only tonight with her mind so full of hope about being able to leave, Ariadna’s real attention was elsewhere. Vinn must have noticed her attention was lacking as he increased the pressure of his fingers against Ariadna’s thighs. He moved back when she let out a curse and had to tear herself away. Vinn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pulled her back to him.
“Did I do well?” he asked her with a crooked smile.
Ariadna lay panting on the bed, beads of sweat running down between her breasts and over her stomach. She waited for Vinn to find his place beside her before she swung a leg over his hip and wrapped an arm around his waist. She pressed a few kisses against his chest and that was enough for Vinn to know he had.
Vinn snuck his arm underneath Ariadna and slung it over her shoulders, keeping her close to him. With his free hand, he allowed himself the pleasure of roaming it around whichever part of the girl he wanted.
“I need to speak to you about my list. You’ve been putting it off for so long now that,” Ariadna began.
Vinn covered his eyes with a hand and moaned. “Oh, Ari please.” he said. “Do we always have to talk business while we fuck? Head of the Institute or not, I sometimes find it gets boring too.”
Ariadna lifted her head to look at him and she could not help but frown. “I mean it. The longer I leave these people alive,”
“These people are not part of your life anymore.” Vinn snapped. He rolled over onto Ariadna until his body pinned her down and he closed his hands around her wrists, giving them a gentle shake. “You are no longer a part of whatever it was you were forced into as a child. When I agreed to let you join The Anari, I had thought you would have wanted to forget about your damned childhood and just get on with your life.”
Ariadna moved his hands away and sat up, forcing Vinn to do the same.
“So what happened to all of this bullshit about ‘I’ll help you get revenge’? Have I sold my soul to yet another organisation willing to restrain me once again?” she went to get out of bed but, Vinn pressed her back down and shot her a warning glance.
“You want to go to Forta to kill your father and sister. This contract I had told you about earlier, it will work well for your schedule. I don’t want to talk about it right now, you had told me we’ll discuss this tomorrow. Are you not a woman of your word?” Vinn had the audacity to ask her. Ariadna fought in his grip a moment.
“Don’t you dare challenge my honour! Have I not kept my word and been spreading my legs for you for the last four years? Have I not stayed put as part of The Anari for five years now, trusting you to keep your part of the deal and let me go about my business?” she was furious now.
Vinn brushed a strand of silver hair from Ariadna’s neck and kissed her there. His breath was warm against her skin and he felt her shudder at his touch. “I’m not challenging anything of yours, just making sure you aren’t planning on running away from your responsibilities once you get the chance to.” he replied.
Ariadna was confused. She was not sure if Vinn’s threats to throw her out if she did not succumb to his desires meant anything anymore, if he was now so adamant to keep her here. Ariadna closed her eyes and drew a steady breath before Vinn found his way inside her again and took her on his bed once more.
9 –
Ariadna
Ariadna wrapped herself in the dress she had worn the night before as she looked over Vinn’s desk for the documents regarding her contract.
Vinn rubbed his tired eyes as he watched her from where he still lay in bed. Morning had crept up on them both without their knowing.
“It’s still too early to be doing any work. Come back to bed.” he told her.
Ariadna did not look at him as she replied, “Mallice Mara.” having plucked a piece of paper from the folder she had been looking for. She leaned against the desk and read in the candle light where her eyes had a better opportunity of seeing the scrawled writing. “That damned Politician? Let me guess, the other arrogant candidates for the elections are pissed off that he had cheated for his votes?” she sounded bored. “Now we’re – I mean I’m – being hired to kill this man and will get paid a pretty penny by his backstabbing, intolerable, bastard colleagues?”
Vinn got out bed and approached her, still groggy from sleep. He slid his hands under Ariadna’s dress and held her there as he planted a kiss on her neck.
“Yes. Now you know what you’re being sent to do, can you please just come back to bed?” he replied.
Ariadna shrugged her way out of his grip, hid the documents in their folder again and tucked it under her arm. She turned to face him. “You poor baby, you look exhausted. Did something keep you up last night?” she cooed. Brushing Vinn’s arm aside, she bid him farewell and excused herself from his room. Still in her dress from the night before, Ariadna’s brothers-in-arms did not need to guess where she had been last night and whilst some shook their heads at her, others muttered foul words about Vinn’s treatment of the young woman.
Ariadna was not on solid grounds here. Some men openly disliked her as much as she did them. Whilst others pitied her and wanted to make her feel welcome but, felt too threatened by Ari’s violent nature – ironic. As she leafed through the folder on her way back to her room, she spied Oberon heading towards the training ground. He seemed to be in a good mood, Ari believed.
Oberon met her gaze and, even from where she stood, Ariadna noticed how he took in the dress she wore from last night and the new document in her hands. He did not want to tell her this to her face but, Oberon pitied the woman. Obe did not need to tell Ariadna anyway, for she already knew.
Around her, the corridors filled with whispers as men went in pairs down to the training ground for their morning sessions. They edged away from Ariadna as they passed and she found she was in no mood to even say good morning or wish them luck during training. That was her small way of making it known to the others she was angry or upset.
Despite gaining permission to go about with her own list of names now, Ariadna still felt she had been the denied the opportunity for too long. She was worried that, should Vinn change his mind suddenly, she’ll be stuck at the Institute again. Vinn already had his own spies within The Anari following Ariadna around when he himself did not have to search for her if his men failed.
Ariadna was not an assassin for no reason. When she was seventeen, she had heard of a carnival coming to the city centre. Naturally, a girl of her age was curious about this commotion that was to come to Atimae. So she had snuck out during the early morning of the carnival and went to explore it in all its colour and wonders.
There had been fire breathers painted red with frilly silk collars and extravagant torches in both hands. Jesters with belled hats which rung out as they moved across their stage and told the silliest and dirtiest jokes they knew. Exotic dancers, bare chested with silk skirts and bra
celets on their ankles had performed seductive dances.
The carnival had even had monkeys, crocodiles and jewelled beetles; amongst other magnificent creatures which were permitted into the city centre. It had been an explosion of colour and smoke; within which The Anari could not find Ariadna once Vinn had discovered she was gone.
It had taken a good half of the day to find Ariadna in that one city centre, among the commotion of the carnival. When Ari had finally been found and brought back, Vinn had not hesitated to beat her senseless for leaving without his permission. Worst of all, he had done it in front of the others.
Vinn had made Ariadna look weak and helpless in front of the men whom she had worked so hard to earn respect from. It appeared even now he did not respect her as he should, by having made her wait so long to complete her list and for having made her fuck her way towards it all these years.
Ariadna had made it to her room without causing too much of a commotion along the way and now, behind the safety of her locked doors, she read through the pages of the contract.
“Mallice Mara. Forty-nine years old, Head of the State of Forta.” she slipped out of her dress for the last time and threw it aside into a wicker basket. Gathering the documents in her hands again, she read through them on her way to the bathroom she had been fortunate enough to have been granted; to save her from being spied on by the other men within the shared bathhouse. Ariadna set the water running in the bath tub and stepped inside, collecting a cloth as she did. “Competing candidates - Mathius Ardara, Viticus Roy and Ruben Qortan. So the bastard had cheated at the last elections and the others aren’t happy. They best be paying me decent money for this, I care very little about Politicians.” Ariadna muttered as she soaked the cloth under water and wrung it out. She cleaned at the mess Vinn had made in between her legs, leaning over the bathtub to spy what was on the next page of the documents. Her eyes widened and she let out a low whistle.
“OK, never mind. They’re willing to pay a lot of money.” she soaked the cloth again, wrung it out and then hung it over the edge of the bath. Stepping out from the tub, Ariadna dried herself off before gathering the documents up again and strolling over to her wardrobe. She had cleaned her leather fighting gear earlier on and it looked as sharp and pristine as its Mistress did.
Arin Vikander now lived in Forta after having moved there to pursue some stupid mistress of his. Jooney had already left home long before, to marry Lord Gabriel Daeton, a stuck up and wealthy aristocratic arse. That had left Master Vikander free to do whatever he pleased again, so he had followed what most men did and it had led him to buy a Manor House on the outskirts of Forta. Too bad his mistress had died of the pox a few years back, leaving him as lonely and pathetic as he had been before.
Now, lo-and-behold, Vinn had pulled a contract out of his own arse which required going to Forta. The cheeky bastard. If Ariadna wanted to go to Forta so badly, Vinn would make her work for it harder than any other man had to with their own personal vendettas, and he had been over the last few years. If he dared to take her opportunity to go Forta away again, Ariadna would not hesitate to castrate him and make him wear his balls as a necklace.
10 –
Troian
The strange staircase came to Troian’s mind again as he slept. He dreamt of himself walking down the dark corridors of Kanra Mortier’s palace, the guards on duty as silent and still as stone as he brushed past them. He followed a trail of blue smoke, which seemed to curl around his ankles and pull him like a prisoner to where the staircase began.
It seemed so real. Troian was certain he felt the iciness of the stone walls as he continued to stumble from side to side, reaching his hands out against the walls to steady himself. There came the sound of single heavy breaths running down the corridors, a second of silence between each one, before it came to a sudden stop.
Troian blinked hard and clapped his hands over his chest as the full extent of his shock took over. The blue smoke was real, he was not dreaming. It clung to him still and screamed at him to carry on moving, down, down; down the forbidden staircase and deep into the belly of the palace. He was not even wearing his boots. The cold, smooth staircase bit into his bare feet as he trod carefully down them; his hand still pressed against the wall to keep himself from falling.
It was dark down the staircase, yet the torches on the walls burst alight as Troian continued to move; jumping back in time to avoid being scorched by the heat. Just like the smoke, the flames of the torches burned an icy blue. He felt he had no control over his body or soul as he took the few final steps down into the underground. His eyes nearly glazed over at the sight he came across.
A large rock pool stretched across the left half of the cave, the turquoise water rippling as a few stones loosened from the ceiling above and dropped into the pool. The water stretched on further through a mouth in the wall, to what must have led to a forest or mountain range outside, perhaps.
Tall stone pillars had been erected around the pool, separating it from the centrepiece of the cave – an elevated island - with thick steps running up to it. There, a group of men had gathered for what appeared to be some kind of demented ritual.
Troian’s head went funny, and he forced himself to take cover behind a boulder by the entrance of the cave. He held his breath and waited. Sweat ran down his back in fat beads, making him shudder.
All around, the walls of the cave were lined with bodies upon bodies. Some had limbs cut off, others with their stomachs hanging open or their jaws dismembered to keep them silent. The men ahead on the elevated island were naked, their skin painted black with strange white whorls and handprints on their chest and back.
Their faces were covered by skull masks, giving Troian no reason to doubt where the prisoner’s jaws went when removed. The black figures danced around a stone slab, flailing their arms and legs around as they whooped songs in a language Troian could not understand.
There, before a great pit of fire, stood a robed figure whose face remained covered by the shadow of his heavy hood. He led the men in their dance with words which flew, foreign and ugly. It was a voice which Troian recognised – Kanra.
Troian only grasped the name Distretia, from the long string of words the robed figure spat out. The goddess of death. Troian felt his stomach turn, and he went to crawl back up to the ground level of the palace but, the sound of a woman sobbing had him throwing his attention back to the scene ahead.
A young girl, with perhaps only sixteen years to her name, was bound to a heavy stone slab before the robed figure. She was naked from the waist upwards, her arms and legs strapped to her sides with what appeared to be leather cuffs.
The girl let out a tremendous sob as the robed figure ran a hand down her face. She wore the robes of a virgin priestess.
Still, the men dancing around the girl chanted and moved in disturbing ways as the robed figure retrieved a flint dagger and held it up for his prisoner to see. The girl screamed loud enough to have Troian covering his ears as it echoed throughout the cave. She writhed in her bonds, her chest rising and falling with each strained breath she took.
Kanra pierced the blade into the priestess’ belly button and sliced her open from abdomen to throat, clenching his teeth at the sight of the blood which pumped out of the girl’s body and soaked the slab on which she was being sacrificed.
He placed the dagger down and circled the girl’s body, until he could push his hand through the wound and up to where her heart was. He gave it a harsh tug before cutting it loose from the girl’s body.
The priestess’ heart was a warm lump of muscle in Kanra's hand, staining his skin red as he brought it to the fire burning behind him and threw it in. A blue flame shot up in an awesome display and the men cheered louder at the sight.
Distretia! Distretia! The men roared.
Kanra turned back to the now lifeless body of the priestess. He braced himself against the edges of the slab and ran his tongue against the stone, gathering up blood. He curled his t
ongue back in and groaned at the metallic taste which now filled his mouth.
From where he was still hiding, Troian was hit with an odour of blood as it clung to the hairs in his nose. He dropped to all fours and retched before vomiting up last night’s meal. He needed to get out of here; to needed to warn his brothers. Troian found his feet somehow and stumbled back up the stairs in which he had gone down on.
The earth seemed to shift beneath the mercenary’s feet, sending him sprawling hard against the staircase. Tears ran down Troian’s cheeks as he fought to keep himself upright and the content of his stomach inside. His eyes burned, and he felt the heat rise to his face at an uncomfortable rate. Troian’s vision blurred from the nonstop flow of tears.
He slammed hard into the corner of the wall which separated the staircase from the rest of the palace. He did not falter as he went in search of Kholo, to explain everything he had just seen to a man already made blind to the horrors of Vhorgo and its Dictator.
11 –
Preeya
Sister Iyna, who was Head of the Convent in Atimae, had done her usual round of patrolling the entire building after morning prayers had finished; two hours ago now, and after everyone had broken their fast together. She did this every day, checking for any girls who may have misplaced themselves from doing their chores around the convent.
Once certain their superior had left their bedroom for good, Preeya and her good friend, Ana Mye, deemed it safe to emerge from the bed which they had hidden underneath. They did so with a collection of giggles and jokes concerning their dear Sister Iyna.
Preeya helped Ana to her feet. They both dusted their robes off before dropping onto Preeya’s bed and clamping their hands over their mouths, to silence their laughter.
The Anari Page 4
