by T. M. Hart
“Oh, god, yes. Please don’t stop.” I had no shame in pleading with him. I wanted this. I had been denied this my entire life. I would not let him slink away this time. If there was to be a battle between me and his demons, I would win this round.
I squeezed my thighs around him, digging my hands into his hair. Then I leaned forward to bite his neck where his tendons strained. Tasting his skin and doing all that I could to keep him there with me. Present. In this moment only.
With a roar he gave one more agonizing thrust against me. It was the last push to send me over the edge. It caused an eruption of energy which sent waves of pleasure spasming from my center.
Then with a burst, the flames from the burning fires exploded in each hearth before settling into embers. Some of the surrounding books and drapes ignited, though, causing small fires to break out in the chamber. One of us, I’m not certain who, must have sent a subconscious pulse of energy to smother the flames, because they were snuffed out before they could grow any larger.
And after the ignition, while small ripples of energy continued to wash over me, we were immersed the quiet dark.
I was hyper aware of everything about him. Something about his presence. How solid he was under me. How big he was. How even though I was on top of him, he still managed to overwhelm me. The smell of him. The taste of him. How silky his hair felt between my fingers. The way his chest heaved with heavy slowing breaths, and he languidly continued to thrust against me.
There was a kind of magic in being so close to another. So consumed by them. And I didn’t think this kind of magic was the fabricated kind. I had a strong suspicion that it was a very basic, primal kind of magic. It was separate from whatever intervening force was driving us together.
I was certain that it must be what other people experienced. That this was why people pursued one another. I was finally privy to the secret of it all. And I found it incredible.
I leaned my head against his shoulder. Resting it there. Letting my breath fan across his neck. The dark forces that had expanded around us, those that haunted him, began to settle. To calm. Even if they hadn’t though, it would not have mattered. The space we occupied was untouchable in that moment. There was only enough room for the two of us on that chair.
I let my fingers knead and pull on his hair. I rubbed my face against his neck and jaw. And when I felt him begin to stiffen again under me, I started to subtly shift around on top of him.
I would have stayed with him all night in that chamber. But his hands moved up my back, into my hair, pulling my head back so I was forced to look at him. The electric blue of his eyes sparked. And I knew my own violet eyes must have glittered because there was a glow of light on his face.
For just a moment, just a fraction of a second, he looked at me with something like wonder. The tense angles of his face were relaxed, his firm lips parted, the dark hair swept back from his forehead.
And I think my own lips parted on a silent oh, because I was so thrown by how gorgeous he was. But whatever he saw, whatever he read on my face, was something else entirely. Because instantly, his features hardened, his jaw clenched, and those black veins branched through his eyes.
“I warned you! I told you to leave! Why would you do this to yourself!”
I grabbed his face in both my hands. “Wait! Just wait! Stop for a minute. Wherever you’re going in your head right now, whatever’s happening—just stop!”
He pushed my hands away. And picking me up, he stood before turning to toss me onto the chair.
Then he headed straight for the door. With his back to me he growled, “You will leave! Tomorrow!”
“No.” It was a calm defiance. “We’ve already discussed this. I can’t leave.”
His voice was a cold murmur in the dark. “If you stay, I will not be able to stop myself.”
I took a few silent steps towards him, talking to his back. “From what?” I asked.
“From attacking you.”
I drew in a startled breath. “Is that what you think just happened? That you attacked me?”
He didn’t answer. And I didn’t know what to say. I stood there watching his hands clench into fists.
Finally, I broke the silence. “What if I told you that I don’t want you to go. That I want to be with you again.”
“Then I would say you’re pathetic.” His words were iced, and chills ran up my spine.
“What is wrong with you?!” I cried.
His voice was a pained hiss in the dark. “Everything.”
And at that, he didn’t even bother with the door. He simply wisped away like the shadow that he was.
◆◆◆
But I couldn’t just let him disappear into the night. I wasn’t done with him. It was selfish and desperate of me, but I couldn’t allow him to leave. I was still wrapped up in him. I still wanted to be near him. To feel his presence.
And I had found a small thrill in being able to affect him. It sounds too maniacal to confess, but somewhere deep down inside, I liked that I drove him wild.
It took me a good ten minutes, but I eventually got the boarded-up plank open. Enough of my power had been restored after being with him. I tried to brace myself for the drowning sensation I would encounter once I crossed into the abandoned wing of the manor, but it just wasn’t something I could prepare for.
The desolation, the despair, the darkness, it all pressed upon me, until I felt as though I was suffocating, as though I would never know joy again. I tried to keep a steady glow of Light around me, and it was barely enough to keep my feet moving.
I knew I would find him down here, in his pit of darkness and despair. I could feel him down here.
I forced my feet down the dark hall to the one room with the door slightly ajar. I pushed open the old rotting wood, feeling the dampness of it. And just as I imagined, he sat at the piano with his head bowed. Instead of manipulating the keys though, his hands rested on the bench at his sides.
Red embers glowed in the fireplace, but nothing more. I wrapped my arms around myself, standing just inside the door. I fought the urge to start a fire, knowing it would be rude. Knowing I was intruding here.
It wasn’t close enough. I wanted to be next to him. To feel him again, as I had just moments before. But I knew I had to grab on to some semblance of self-respect. I would not allow myself to completely unravel.
I stood there for a long time staring at the stark muscles and planes of his shoulders and back. He was so strong. So powerful. And yet, so broken. I wanted to understand why.
After an indefinite amount of time passed, I began to think perhaps we would both remain just as we were for the rest of eternity. Buried down here, like two statues. Him at his piano. Me standing on, watching, forever longing for another moment together.
But finally he spoke, his quiet voice seeping through the cold dark air. “One day, a long time after she brought me here, I ventured beyond the confines of my room. I found the piano. It was covered in dust and cobwebs. I would come and sit at the bench but not touch the keys.
“Finally, after hundreds of times, I struck a dust covered key. The flat note was too loud in the quiet room. It hung here in the space surrounding me, vibrating in the air for what seemed like too long, before floating away.
“It was a release. I never wept. Although I was a child, no matter what she did or made me do, I never wept.
“But the piano could. All I had to do was tell it every unshed tear and it would take them from me. Releasing them into the air where they would be carried away.”
He paused, and I believed he was done with his admission. I didn’t say anything at first, knowing there was nothing to say. Knowing it had been a statement only. A sharing of a fact. I believed he would despise a reply of sympathy or comfort. And instead I simply accepted what he offered.
But then he continued with a heavy exhale. “Why are you here, Violet?”
Hearing my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine. I suddenly felt ver
y exposed. As though I had been stripped down in front of him. It was too intimate.
“You know my name?” I asked.
“Of course,” he supplied.
“Of course,” I repeated. I took a small step closer to him. “Why do you never face me?”
He shuddered. “You know very well why I spare you.”
“No, I don’t.”
His tone was harsh. “I have already told you I know of the monster I am. Of the horror of my appearance.”
“Stop,” I gritted through my teeth.
Still he remained sitting at the piano with his back to me. “Don’t do this, Violet. Don’t do this to yourself. You are so much better than all of this. Go back to your home full of light and beauty. That is where you belong.”
I straightened. “Perhaps I will if you keep pushing me away, but you should know something first. You are not a monster. You are the most gorgeous being I have ever seen. There is good and Light in you. I know it. I’ve seen it. I saw it a long time ago. And I know it’s still there.
There was something about him saying my name, that made me want to say his.
“I want you to touch me again. I want you to kiss me again. I want to feel your skin on mine. Most of all, I want you to turn around and look at me, Zagan.”
His shoulders stiffened. I silently pleaded for him to face me. I knew he would feel the compulsion of it. We were connected. And I had been so stupid not to realize the extent of it. The power of it.
He did rise then and crossed to me. He was breathing heavy, and an aching confusion contorted his face. “What did you call me?” he whispered.
“You know that’s your name,” I told him.
The room began to shake. The keys on the piano rattled and dust and debris began to sprinkle from the ceiling. Dark energy vibrated in the air around us and the temperature in the already cold room plummeted. His voice was a deadly hiss. “I do not have a name.”
I notched my chin staring into the turbulent storm brewing in his black eyes where whorls of madness spiraled. “Is that what she told you?”
Shadows began to bleed from his skin and swirl around him. His voice was monstrous. Guttural. “Don’t ever speak that name again.”
He took a predatory step toward me, leaving only an inch of space between us, forcing me to crane my head up to his gaze. The misery and torment twisting around him caused my skin to freeze. I could feel my inner Light flicker as the cold and dark he possessed tried to embrace me.
I stood my ground. “I’m not afraid of you, Zagan.” I reached up and touched his chest, placing my hand over the frigid black mark there. I let my Light flow through my touch, trying my best to thaw his dark heart.
He clutched his head and dropped to his knees letting out a roar that rattled the piano keys, which gave off a matching shout. The ground shook violently and the debris from the ceiling now rained down on us.
I kneeled with him trying to hold him, trying to keep him with me. I would force my Light into him. But it was no use. My offering was too weak in comparison to his power and was unwelcome.
I lost.
He slipped away, and I was left with nothing. The dark energy, the coldness, the shaking, it all disappeared as if he had never been. I was left alone in the silence of his decayed sanctuary.
It was just as it had been all those years ago when we were children. He had vanished without a trace. And I was left abandoned.
A red-hot guilt flushed my skin. I had driven him away. I had forced him into a truth he did not want to face. And now the ghosts which haunted his wing demanded I pay for my trespasses. The misery and despair began to descend upon me. I would be trapped in this space, buried alive, if I didn’t get out of there.
And as I had done before . . . I fled.
Chapter 23
Several nights passed. I did not see Zagan again. I did not feel his presence.
I was afraid of what I had done.
I tried to sift through memories, searching for answers. But I had been so young.
I did not remember him arriving at court. And I did not remember much of our time together. I did recall a time when my mother had warned me that we would soon be separated.
She had let me know that Zagan would eventually move to another residence. The immense mansion was the heart of the Radiant Court. It was where official business took place. But there was a whole city of homes, shops, and buildings which sprawled from the entry gates down at the bottom of the vast grounds. And Zagan would not continue to live with me.
My mother had told me that Zagan and I both needed to spend time with other friends. We were about to start the next level of schooling and it was important for us to have some distance as we grew older. I would be tutored with the girls around my age while Zagan would study with the boys.
I was assured he would still be a part of my life. But my mother tried to press upon me the importance of us finding our own identities. She said we would be better friends as adults if we took some time to grow separately.
I wondered then if she had known the extent of our connection, of what it would one day turn into . . . She must have. Why else insist on breaking us apart?
But had she known he was the son of the Shadow King? I didn’t recall any defining marks on his chest. Had my mother known he was the heir to an abandoned throne? I had always been under the impression he was a Radiant, like the rest of us.
And I could understand why The Contessa wanted him. She must have been behind his disappearance. She had turned Zagan into a shadow of a man, and in doing so had secured her place as master of the Dark Court.
But why did she want me?
She had said it was for my Light. So why not just kill me? Why draw it out? Why take me somewhere to wait for Zagan?
With her psychotic ramblings, she had indicated there were plans in place, something she had worked long and hard for—yet I could not begin to fathom what that was.
It was all too convoluted. It was as though I was standing in front of a painting in a dark room with pinpricks of light beaming upon the image. I could see certain things, tiny blips, but I had no idea what the big picture was.
And desperate times call for desperate measures. So I had decided it was time. I did the unthinkable . . . I called my mother.
We had initially agreed that Killian would be my point of contact. It could become too messy if I was reporting back to various people. Errors in communication occur that way, and in this situation we couldn’t afford any misunderstandings. However, since I doubted Killian could answer questions as to whether or not my mother knowingly fostered the Prince of Shadows, I decided it was time to make an exception.
I was surprised when my mother answered.
“Everything’s fine,” I said right away, not wanting to cause her panic. “I just haven’t been able to contact Killian,” I explained.
“What a warm greeting. Thank you, Violet,” came her reply.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I just didn’t want you to think something was wrong.”
“Even under the most stressing of times, there is no need to forget your manners,” she chastised. “However, I am ever so glad to hear that my only child still lives, after days of not knowing.” Her tone was mockingly cheery.
“Mom—”
“Violet, I am entitled to handle this in my own manner,” she snapped. “Light forbid you one day have a child who pulls a stunt like this, but maybe then you could possibly begin to understand what you are putting me through! I have had no idea whether you were dead or alive since Killian’s last update. So you will forgive me if I am less than pleased with this entire situation, and if a phone conversation with me is somewhat tense at the moment.”
I took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m sorry for all this.”
There was a pause, and then my mother asked, “Are you in danger?”
I looked down at the ring on my finger. “No. No I’m not. Things are . . . complicated. But I’m safe.”
&nbs
p; My mother sounded disbelieving and perhaps a little hopeful. “It was a genuine proposal, then?”
I still didn’t know what The Contessa wanted with me. And considering it had been her proposal, I wasn’t sure how to answer. Although, as far as I knew, the documents I had signed had been legitimate. But none of that mattered because more than anything, I just wanted to give my mother peace of mind.
“Yes,” I told her. “There are still some details to work out. But all in all, it’s looking good.”
She made a dignified sigh and I knew it was her way of releasing some anxiety. “In that case, I will be planning a ball here at Court to announce the marriage. I will expect you and the prince to attend. I have decided this may be a positive situation after all. We should use it to calm some of the fears and concerns of our people.” She was jumping right into business and I wasn’t surprised. It was usually how she handled nerve-racking situations.
“That sounds wonderful,” I told her. But there was no way in hell it was going to happen. “Except hold off on any specific dates for now. The prince is incredibly busy, and I will have to reference his schedule.” And before she could continue, I tried to get to the reason for my call. “Mom, I want to ask you—”
There was shuffling in the main room of my quarters. And I was afraid The Contessa had returned with the Umbra. I snatched my dagger from the dresser and mentally chastised myself for not having it on me. I had become lazy about it. I needed to be sure I had it strapped to my body at all times.
I pressed the phone against my waist, and then I silently ran down the hall to peek around the corner into the main room. The Crone was leading Maxim into my suite.
“Violet? Violet!”
“Yes, I’m here. And I am sorry to cut things short, but I must go,” I told my mother.
“Honestly, Violet. What has happened to your consideration. This is no way to treat your mother—”
“It’s . . . uh . . . time for tea! You know, I don’t want to be late. I’m still trying to make a good impression and all. I’m just not used to the schedule yet.”
