She turned her mouth from his and gasped, “Whoa.”
“What?” he panted. “I need you. Don’t you want me?” He trained his gaze on her, his teal eyes veiled in want, so familiar, yet so achingly alien at the same time. “I love you,” he whispered. His head lowered so that his lips hovered above hers. She wanted him to be his old self again. She tipped her chin and pressed her lips to his, longing for the man she loved to come back to her, to ditch this moody man who’d replaced him. He slid his tongue along the seam of her mouth, parting her lips more gently. He suckled her bottom lip then her top, before sliding his tongue inside her again, pumping it erotically. He leaned her back against the bed and parted her thighs with his knee. He shifted his heavy frame atop her and prodded her with his hardness. “You feel that?” he asked. “That’s for you.”
Uneasiness wailed like a siren, reverberating through her body. He pried her legs open further and ground himself against her, his hands tearing at her T-shirt. She stiffened and resisted, but he remained undaunted. He flipped her onto her belly and lifted her shirt then ran his tongue down the length of her spine before sinking his teeth into her backside, hard.
“Ouch!” Arianna cried out.
“What the fuck?” Desmond flipped her onto her back and glowered at her. “What is your problem? Since when did you become so prissy?”
“That hurt,” she said calmly and made a conscious effort to steady her breathing.
“Oh, whatever! You’re exaggerating this like you exaggerated the thing with Amitt!” he blustered as he climbed off her.
“Desmond,” she tried to calm yet another mood swing.
“Forget it. I don’t even want to anymore,” he huffed. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“You haven’t eaten all day,” she said and didn’t know why she even bothered concerning herself with his well-being. He didn’t seem interested in hers at the moment. He stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Arianna covered her face with her hands. Tears threatened but refused to fall, leaving a burning, throbbing sensation to pulse behind her eyelids. She could not believe how erratically he was behaving. What was going on with him? The question looped in her mind unendingly. She would have sworn he was someone else entirely were it not for the steady hum of his life force, clear and undeniable, thrumming in time with hers. She’d been able to feel it since she’d become aware of him, and from what he’d always told her, the feeling was mutual. He’d always felt her. The thought had brought her comfort, until now. Now it brought with it a dull ache. He could feel her wounded soul, yet did nothing to aid its healing. The realization left her feeling empty and exposed. She sat up slowly and gathered underwear, a tank top and yoga pants from her duffle bag. As soon as the bathroom door opened and he gusted past her still mumbling angrily, she slipped inside and closed the door. She stripped and stood beneath the puny spray of the shower head, trying in vain to scrub the events of the day from her skin.
When she’d finished and dried and dressed herself, she took a deep breath to steel herself before opening the door. Desmond was already sleeping. She could not help but feel relieved. Part of her did not want to interact with him at all. She hoped morning would bring with it clarity, that he would be the Desmond she loved so deeply once again.
Her breathing snagged several times and tears streamed down her cheeks. She slipped beneath the covers beside him, careful not to disturb him, and closed her eyes.
Chapter 8
Arianna did not know what time it was when she woke, but assumed it was late as darkness enveloped the entire cabin. The covers had slid from her body and she was cold. She reached for them, patting the bed as she searched, only to find that the covers were missing, and so was Desmond.
“Desmond?” she called softly.
The bathroom was dark, its door wide open and Arianna called him again. “Desmond,” she said as she sat. She made her way to the light switch and squinted when the room was bathed in stark light. When her eyes finally adjusted, she saw that everything was how it had been left hours earlier, except now, she was alone. She went to the door and opened it, thinking perhaps he had stepped outside for some fresh air. But he was not in front of the cabin. She was about to turn and go back in and assume he’d gone off to the main house for a meal when the sound of animal moans pierced the still of night.
A male and female groaned and cried out raucously, the noise gripping her, dragging her like an invisible lasso, pulling her toward the sound. When she arrived at a vacant cabin three doors down and the sounds swelled, her heart hammered so loudly she thought it was audible for miles. She reached for the door handle and for a moment, contemplated turning and running back to her cabin. But the unseen lariat continued to tug, urging her inside.
She opened the door slowly, silently, and what she saw unhinged her jaw.
Confusion swept through every cell in Arianna’s body the moment what she was seeing registered in her brain. For a merciful moment, her mind had vacillated, struggling to process what her eyes had beheld. But then it all came into razor-sharp, stinging clarity. Amitt and Desmond were in bed together, naked. Amitt straddled him with her head held high, her face a mask of dignity, and the room began whirling in lopsided circles. Arianna felt her dinner rocket up her esophagus and threaten to spew. Amit was having sex with Desmond, her cousin, riding him with the polished arrogance of a queen gracing commoners with her company. But Amitt was no queen, and what she was doing was far from dignified. Yet there she was, balanced astride him regally, writhing and grinding her hips against his. His hands massaged her full breasts, pinching the large, hardened nubs at their center, while his eyes locked on them.
The unfathomable depths of his irises were filled with raw lust, every dangerous muscle in his body straining and bulging. Long reams of midnight hair fell over cords of menacingly sculpted muscles that galloped down his forearms and up his biceps to his broad shoulders. Arianna found it odd that only now she saw the magnitude of Desmond’s strength, as if she were noticing it for the first time. He looked different, dangerous. He looked capable of unspeakable destruction. And he was. He had just done irreparable damage to her. He had murdered her heart.
Arianna wanted to flee the nightmare she’d walked into, sift, run – any method that would remove her from witnessing the incubus before her would suffice. But she could not focus her thoughts on being elsewhere and her legs had taken root in the wood flooring. She was left there, immobile, watching with wide-eyed horror. She wanted to cover her ears and close her eyes but she was paralyzed. She was an unseen bystander in the worst imaginable scenario a person in love could find herself in.
Amitt continued gyrating her pelvis into his, murmuring words of encouragement, saying, “yes” and growling in a low primal rasp. Encouraged, Desmond plunged himself deep inside Amitt so that she sighed in ecstasy. Her face flushed a lascivious red as whimpers quivered from her lips and her body tensed and curled forward, shuttering with release, and Arianna felt a part of her die then and there. She licked her lips and tried to take a breath, to make a sound, but weight, overpowering and devastating, settled deep in her chest, crushing and slaying every ounce of air in its wake. She could not breathe. Her lungs refused to fill and remained frozen, like blocks of ice so cold their chill burned. She could not speak. Words had been immobilized, suspended deep in the yawning pit she’d plummeted into. Voices sounded around her. She was vaguely aware of moans and grunts. But they were muddled and distorted, as if echoing from the bottom of an endless sea.
Unexpectedly, Amitt looked over her shoulder at Arianna. A slow, self-satisfied smile slithered across her face. Arianna felt her body sway as tiny shards of hot glass charged through her veins. She felt her lungs collapse again.
Seeing him and Amitt embroiled in passion bled the air from her lungs so quickly they burned for oxygen. Pain radiated from the center of her chest and branched out, throbbing and aching, yet still, she felt as if her lungs would not fill. She heave
d several labored breaths, but the meager air she’d drawn had congealed to a thick impenetrable paste that bound them both.
The atmosphere had become too thick. It felt as if it had taken on a life of its own, viscous and foul, pressing all around her, stifling her.
“Desmond! What the hell are you doing?” she gasped and was surprised by how strong and clear her voice sounded.
Desmond stopped moving. His head snapped in Arianna’s direction. His eyes were glacial tunnels filled with a frigid reality lurking just below their surface. A smile twitched across his lips and he lurched forward, shoving Amitt to the side.
“Arianna, what are you doing here?” he asked and yanked a blanket from the bed to cover his waist.
“Me? Really? You’re asking me what I’m doing here? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Arianna shouted.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” he started, but Arianna cut him off.
“Is that right?” she asked venomously. “From where I’m standing it looks like exactly what it is. You were just screwing your dear cousin, Amitt,” she raged.
His eyes were saucers for the briefest of moments and he leaned back, as if heeding an accurate instinct that alerted him he was in dangerous company. But when the moment passed, he grabbed his boxer briefs from the nightstand and shoved a foot in each leg opening then pulled them up. As he did, he spoke. “I came here for support, you know.”
“Oh yes, I can see that,” Arianna sneered.
“This was an accident,” he insisted and jabbed his index finger at the air between them.
“An accident? Oh yes, I’m sure it was an accident. You were walking across the room and fell, naked, into her vagina, right?” Arianna threw her hand in the air, furious and exasperated by his ridiculous attempt to excuse his incestuous infidelity.
“Oh don’t be such a child!” he said icily. “And a vulgar one at that. You wouldn’t have me, so I came here looking for comfort and understanding. I was hurt.”
“And what, she banged you to make you feel all better, like a manly man again? Tell me, is this how witch and warlock families work?” she screamed at him.
Desmond glared at her, a look of pure hatred. Arianna couldn’t believe it. She did not think she could hurt worse than she currently was, but that look, that contemptuous look he’d just given her, obliterated any remnants of her heart that had remained. “You cannot blame me or Amitt for this. The only one to blame here is you. Blame yourself for this. You drove me to a point so low, I took comfort in the arms of family,” he said through his teeth, shaking his head with disgust. Only his disgust was not directed at him or Amitt. It was aimed at her.
Her throat constricted painfully around a lump of dread that had formed there. “I-I c-can’t believe you did this,” she managed against the choking sensation.
“I can’t believe what you made me do,” he retorted with self-righteousness so inflated her insides blistered with wrath.
Her fingertips began to tingle and prickle at his provocation, unharnessed voltage tingling in currents from her core to her extremities. She drew in a long breath through her nose and her lungs swelled. “Fuck you, Desmond!” she spat and finally found her voice.
Amitt’s head whipsawed from her to Desmond then back to her. And she no longer retained the cocky composure she’d had minutes ago. A new emotion gleamed in her eyes: fear.
Arianna’s eyes targeted Amitt and her vision became awash with crimson just before a white streak of fire vaulted from her hand. The bolt whipped between Desmond and Amitt, singeing a considerable snippet of her ebony hair. A vicious laugh erupted from deep within Arianna’s chest and filled the room.
“You can have each other,” she said and focused her attention on random objects in the room. She was vaguely aware of a visceral scream, her scream, tearing through the cabin before lamps, shoes, an alarm clock, clothes, and anything else that was not anchored, levitated and began swirling around the room like a cyclone.
Amitt yelped and fell to her side. Arianna could only hope she’d been struck by something heavy.
“Enough, Arianna!” Desmond tried. “Enough of your temper tantrum!”
And with his words, Arianna lowered her arms. Everything fell to the floor, including the love she’d thought she had. Everything came crashing down around her at once.
Color returned to the room and her fingers ceased tingling. The whirr of the twister of debris had stopped. All that remained was silence. She took a final look at Desmond, at each of the features she’d once cherished and found divine, and said, “I never want to see you again. Good-bye, Desmond.”
Arianna turned from Desmond, from the life she thought she had, and stepped out into the chilly night. Her toes sunk into wet grass and mud squished between them. But she did not care. Her life was over. Everyone she’d ever loved died in some way or other. But this she had never expected. Her own death had come as a shock to her. And without Desmond, she was truly dead.
Chapter 9
Desmond struggled to blink after a female shriek so tortured it rang through his body and resounded through his limbs stirred him from a distant, blackened abyss. He felt as if his bones still vibrated from the sound and knew at once who the tortured scream belonged to. Arianna, it had been Arianna. He could feel it, could feel her anguish engulf him.
Adrenaline blazed through his veins and his muscles jerked as if they’d touched a live wire. But an electric current had not touched him – live or otherwise. It was her; Arianna. His entire body flooded with her light as a deluge of energy, her energy, crashed against him in an all-encompassing wave of misery. It reached every corner of his soul and he saw it. He saw her, alone and afraid and churning in a sea of betrayal. He needed to help her. Her spirit had cried out his name. But his eyelids refused to cooperate and continued to clamp shut against his will.
When finally he forced them open, his vision was groggy and jumbled at first, a mess of dark shapes blurring together. But soon it focused to a machete-sharp point, along with a pain in his forehead equally knifelike, and he realized helping her would not be as easy as he’d hoped.
Cavernous stone, wet and gray, surrounded him on three sides, while metal rods filled the fourth from the ground he lay on to the low, rocky ceiling. He was in an empty, dark and chilly chamber corroded with tree roots, spider webs and bars.
Bars covered the entrance to a shadowy tunnel, the only apparent way out. His heart began to patter frenetically. He was imprisoned.
His mind struggled against what felt like sooty gum coating his memory. He lifted his head and his eyes darted, sweeping the room. His feeble movement was rewarded with a spear to the temple, or at least that was the sensation it produced. He groaned. The throbbing intensified and he instantly learned that his eyes were the only part of his body he could move without experiencing utter agony. He slowly propped himself up on his elbows. His small movement was met with skull-shattering jabs behind his eyes, but he did not care. Arianna needed him, and he would find a way to get to her. He breathed deeply against the pain and regretted it immediately. The fetid, sour stench of death permeated the air around him. He gagged involuntarily and turned onto his side. Twinges ricocheted around his head like spikes exploding in a sealed container. The effect staggered him. He ground his molars and panted, using every ounce of his might to push against it, to push the pain to a remote recess of his brain. He focused on Arianna, but not on the angst-ridden sound he’d heard. Instead, he envisioned her in the meadow he’d first sifted her to, and was immediately transported.
The tacky layer blanketing his memory began to thin. A gentle breeze, perfumed with the sweet smell of grass and earth and a potent combination of flowers, began to overpower the foul odor of rot hanging all around him, and a heated buttery glow encroached on the darkness. He could almost feel the warm swath of sunlight heating his body, ridding him of the chill that had settled deep in his pores. But rolling fields speckled with vibrantly colored blooms were not what infused his
heart and imparted strength. The woman he’d taken there did, Arianna. He could see her now, in his mind’s eye, as clearly as if she were standing before him. Her eyes and hair, both matching shades of molten dark chocolate, looked kissed by firelight with flecks of auburn scattered throughout them, highlighting them. He wanted to reach out and brush her cheek, but knew she was out of reach, somewhere far away.
His physical pain began to recede. The recollection fortified him enough to repel the smarting in his head and reposition his body. He sat upright, his back leaning against a rough wall.
He was unsure of how long he’d been unconscious for or exactly what had happened, but guessed from the gnawing rumble in the pit of his stomach that he’d been out for a few days. Where was he? Why was he caged? How had it happened? None of it made sense. Questions gave way to more questions with answers nowhere to be found. They just continued to roll about in his mind like a ball of barbed wire, tormenting him. The only thing anchoring him to sanity was Arianna; that she was out there, beyond the bars confining him, hurting, calling to him.
He rubbed his temples then his eyes with the heels of his hands. An explosion of bright colors burst before him like a kaleidoscope. He clinched his eyes tighter and a scattering of black dots interspersed with the hues. He opened his eyes and they filled every niche of his field of vision for several moments before the fragmented colors pulled together to form images. And then it started to return to him.
Clips began flashing in his mind’s eye, spotty and fractured at first, then becoming clearer. A pair of pale green eyes veiled by dark lashes locked on his, a large, bronze hand collapsing against his face and then stinging agony so excruciating it drained him. Darius. The name detonated in his brain like a cannon blast. And everything began to gel. The cry of agony he’d heard, the overwhelming deception that had encompassed him, both involved Darius.
The Arrival: Arianna Rose, #4 Page 10
