It was curious.
There weren’t many questions he didn’t know the answers to, often when there were he knew how to obtain those answers. Orren didn’t like unknowns. Unpredictabilities.
Inside the door was an entryway, lit with long candlesticks on tarnished candelabras dulled with age. The flames flickered black, the air cold enough to chatter teeth if temperature affected him. Shadows lurked everywhere he looked and the air was hollow, stealing his breath from his lungs.
A light smile spread across his face as he saw the little girl standing there. Her white dress dark and tattered along the hem, billowing around her ankles. Her black hair was damp, hanging down to the edges of her nightgown.
Coming up behind the small frame, Orren dropped to his knee, wrapping his hand around her shoulder. “Have you fed enough?” he asked the little Nightmare.
She turned to look at him. Black leaking holes where her eyes should be, her mouth a jagged black line through her face held together by stitches so thick they looked like yarn pulled through her flesh.
They were one of the handful of beings that took the forms of children.
The lack of actual children and offspring in the realms often caused him to soften towards those that took the forms of children. They reminded him of the one thing completely out of his reach. Their greed cost them their ability to procreate long ago.
Nightmares were a being he ran into often, their little hands would wrap around his and pull at his heartstrings in a way few beings could. The last thing he wanted was to kick the little Nightmare out and send her off starving.
Most Nightmares needed to feed to exist, no matter their age.
The little Nightmare turned her face into his, nestling the cracked porcelain skin of her cheek against his bare forearm before nodding. “I’m quite full.” She told him, her voice not coming out of her sewn mouth but echoing in the room around them.
Tapping her lightly on the head, he smiled as he got to his feet. “Run along then, little monster.”
Turning, she skipped down the hall back towards the door.
When she took the door, it wouldn’t bring her into his hallway. It would take her to whatever place she kept inside herself. What that looked like for a Nightmare, he didn’t know.
Orren waited for the door to click closed before waving his hand in the air. The black flames of the candles transformed to warm orange, the candelabras suddenly polished and glistening. More appeared, lining the walls eliminating the darkness the Nightmare created for her feeding of fear and misery. A warm rug covered the floor, and a large fireplace appeared against the far wall. The sound of crackling fire spreading comfort through the room.
Huddled in the corner of the room, was a man.
Mortal.
His arms were wrapped around his knees, his skin red and blotchy. The auburn hair on his head was thinning on top, swept around his head in a way Orren imagined was supposed to distract from that fact but only managed to steal his gaze. He was round in the middle, he knew diet and age severely impacted physique in the Mortal Realm. How unfortunate, this man seemed to be lacking on so many physical levels.
Orren rarely visited the Mortal Realm. They had nothing there that interested him. The people were so… small-minded. They busied themselves by obsessing about the most frivolous things. Hate was heavy there for no other reason than it made them feel a sense of power.
What a silly notion.
He got such a small amount of power from them. No matter how much lust he created here, they were so limited. Hindering themselves by their biological sex and uptight ideas of pleasure.
Orren knew better than anyone to achieve the highest amount of bliss, it was best to keep your options open. Open your arms to every type of being imaginable.
Humans were incapable of that openness, which meant sessions with them were often boring.
No matter, he wasn’t here to enjoy himself. He was searching for something.
A large bed appeared in the centre of the room. Sheer red fabric gently blew from the canopy. He could sense this man preferred human females, limiting himself further by narrowing his choices to busty blondes.
Orren almost rolled his eyes.
How mundane.
Four busty blondes appeared on the bed, their arms open as they leaned off the edge of the bed, beckoning to the man cowering in the corner. The sound of their giggles filled the air as two wrapped their arms around one another, long fingers combing through the other’s hair as they kept their eyes trained on the unimpressive mortal man in the corner.
It didn’t take long for his fear to ebb away. Replaced with a look of lustful hunger. Naked bodies entirely made to his liking tangled on the bed erasing the memory of the Nightmare haunting him only moments before.
Typically Orren would join in, but nothing about this scene appealed to him. It was all just so… trite, definitely not enough to rouse an Incubus.
The man ran to the bed, throwing himself into the thrall. Heated moans filled the air and Orren found himself pacing around the room, the passions in the air wafting towards him, seeping into the deep brown of his flesh. It wasn’t enough to stir him, he felt it much like you would feel the dusting of a faint breeze.
“Orren.” The voice was smooth and heavy. Deep, but extremely feminine. His heart pounded as his eyes scanned the room, settling on an illuminated doorframe appearing beside the fireplace.
It swung open slowly, revealing a lush forest.
The air sparkled with the shimmer of Pixie wings, the colourful wings of Sprites and butterflies. The sun shone overhead as magic so potent and fragrant filled the air, it almost had him salivating. Swallowing hard, he stepped through the door as it closed slowly behind him.
A stream ran alongside the path he knew he needed to walk, colourful fish leapt out of the water and made playful splashes as a Kelpie reared and whinnied before climbing out of the stream and galloping through the trees. Its body shimmering as it caught the light.
“Orren.” A deep green gown flowed in his sight for a moment before disappearing behind a tree.
He quickened his step, almost running after her.
As he turned around the thick tree, she was standing there, waiting for him.
Here he could not smell her magical signature. He had no idea what she was, he lost sleep trying to figure it out.
She was beautiful.
Tall and lithe. The green gown she wore shimmered around her, hung low on her chest. Her breasts were small mounds, her collarbone and a few ribs visible between them, her chest not supple enough to hide them. Her waist was slim but not overly narrow. Through the thin fabric of her gown, he could tell she was muscular through her middle, like a warrior. That excited him to no end. Her hips were wide and her legs were thick and capable.
He couldn’t keep his gaze from moving down from the top of her head to the tips of her bare toes. Excitement filling him at finally seeing her again.
His eyes returned to her face, tracing the thick black arches of her brows. There were a few unkempt hairs that seemed a little too long where her brows met the top of the narrow bridge of her nose, leading to nostrils that were pronounced and slightly raised. Her eyes were wide almonds, her lashes thick curtains hiding her onyx eyes from him with every slow blink. Her cheekbones were angled and high, her cheeks hollowed. All of these features in combination with her heavy, plump lips that stretched over her face made her striking in a mysterious way. It was a beauty he couldn’t pin down to a specific being. The warm brown of her skin aglow in the light of the sun that broke through the trees above.
A mane of tight curls surrounded her head, hanging down to her waist. When he first saw her, that hair accompanied with the feline sharpness of some of her features convinced him she was a Shifter. Maybe a lion or another type of cat. She had grace and agility to her movement that screamed feline.
Before the thought could take root, he knew he was wrong.
Her ebony eyes bore into his
, watching him watch her. She let him drink in his fill of her before she spoke to him. His desperation to take in as much as he could palpable.
“Orren.” She practically purred.
“Yes.” He swallowed past the tightness in his throat.
“Find me.” No sooner were the words spoken, she disappeared into a burst of white and blue flames.
3
MELAS
Blackness so thick she could swim through it surrounded her. She was being lifted through it while simultaneously being weighed down. Tar that held her suspended in its depths, pulling her deeper and deeper to her demise.
It should fill her with fear, this feeling of being held captive by the dark, but it was almost a welcome relief. It’d been so long since she was surrounded by nothing. The darkness seemed to seep down into her flesh, burrowing inside her, coating all her worries and cares until they were hidden away. It tunnelled into her ears, filling up the spaces of her mind until nothing lived there.
Nothing mattered.
Not here in the dark.
She wasn’t just surrounded by the dark, she was the dark. She could feel the way it slowly became her. Filling up every nook and cranny of her insides until a void so vast was inside her, or maybe she was inside it. She couldn’t tell.
What a relief it would be, to let herself sink into nothingness. Disappear from the world around her until she was completely forgotten.
Who was she hoping would forget her? The question danced in her mind as she sunk deeper and deeper. Floated higher and higher.
She was Melas, she knew that without question. It was everything else that seemed to be slipping away, just as she was. All the answers to her questions must surround her in the blackness, sinking deeper and deeper, no longer seen from the surface.
Her hand twitched.
It wasn’t her body sinking, she realized. It was her mind.
She felt her body lifting and falling, riding a wave.
No, she reminded herself. She wasn’t in water.
Where was she?
Emptiness filled her mind where she knew things used to take up space.
It was a strange feeling.
The world around her steadied as all her weight fell into something solid. She could feel the ground under her feet, something firm under her butt and arms. Sucking a deep breath into her lungs, Melas steadied her head on her neck before slowly peeling her eyes open.
Her thick lashes felt too heavy for a moment, causing her to blink over and over until she had the strength to open her eyes and keep them open.
The smell of wood surrounded her. When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by wood. Logs.
She was in a log cabin, she realized.
A very fancy version of a log cabin.
The thick logs making up the walls were stained dark, the chinking between the logs stark white. She sat in a high back deep-green chair, with a thick rug the same colour at her feet that disappeared down the hallway set in a rustic imperial staircase. The two staircases hugged the walls in the same dark wood that made up the logs in the walls, with copper banisters. It was an odd mixture of manly and rustic, modern and expensive.
The front door was heavy wood. Double the height and width of a regular door, its copper knob directly in the centre.
Where the hell was she? She wondered. And how the hell did she get there?
There was no art on the walls, the foyer she sat in completely barren of anything that would have personalized the space.
Her black eyes examined the area.
In the archway below the staircase on the right, stood a man. A massive man who towered abnormally above her. His barrel chest bare and arms so thick they looked like tree trunks sprouting from his broad shoulders. The sides of his head were shaved right down to the scalp, the scalp decorated with tattooed symbols she couldn’t make sense of. The hair on top was burnished orange. It was piled into a neat bun on the crown of his head, wrapped with a leather strap. His beard hung down between his pecks, braided just at the very tip. The flesh around his right, pale blue eye was marred as though he’d been burned. Half of his eyebrow missing at the end where the scarred flesh stretched up towards his temple, over his eye and stopped at the bridge of his nose. His hazel left eye looked at her as he adjusted the weight of the bundle he held over his shoulder.
“Zura!” Melas was on her feet. Without hesitation, she raced towards the gigantic man and grabbed hold of the large hunting knife in the holster at his belt. She raised it, pointing the sharp tip right at his chest. “Give her to me.”
His brow furrowed as he looked at her, then back to the little girl he held on his shoulder. “I would never hurt a child.” He told her solemnly. “No one in the six realms would.”
She wouldn’t ask him again, drawing her arm back slightly, she lunged at him.
Taken by surprise, he took a step back, then another. He set the little girl down in the chair by the coat rack with care before raising his hands in front of him.
The blade sunk in the palm of his hand, pushing out the other side.
He heaved a sigh, pulling his hand away from her to free it from the blade, without even a flinch of pain. “If you would just calm down, I could explain everything to you.” His voice was calm, completely unaffected by the blade that just impaled his hand.
Melas’ eyes shot behind him to the little girl curled in a ball in the chair. She was so still. “What did you do to her?” Her voice was hard as she swiped the blade in front of her again.
He jumped back, the ground shaking slightly under his weight. “I doubt we can properly have a conversation if you keep at it like this. I’ve done nothing to her. Or you.” He sounded almost listless. Like she wasn’t waving a knife at him.
His calmness unsettled her. It didn’t fit the situation. His calm, paired with the new dark emptiness inside her made her feel like an animal backed against a wall. Feral as it prepared to fight its way out.
What was happening to her? She wondered. How did she get here? What was she doing before she got here? Questions bombarded her mind.
Zura adjusted her weight on the chair, letting out a little sigh.
Relief flooded Melas. She may not know anything else, but she knew she needed to protect Zura with everything she was.
“Sweet Lucifer, Ridhor. What the hell are you trying to do? Bring the whole house down? Someone of your domineering size shouldn’t go hopping about like a Monopod. It’s practically raining plaster downstairs.” A tall man with bronzed skin and brown hair came into the foyer through the archway to the right. Wearing a scowl brushing off his black, clearly expensive dress, shirt with more buttons undone than done, tucked into the waist of perfectly tailored black slacks. His chiselled, square jaw was covered in five o’clock shadow outlined sharply, only making the line of his jaw look more intense. His golden eyes widened when he looked at Melas. His steps slowing as they moved from Melas to the man he called Ridhor, to Zura. “Is that a child?” He sputtered out the word in disbelief.
When he took a step into the foyer, Melas spun on him. She kicked her feet out towards his ankles. He lifted one foot, but his distracted gaze still on Zura caused him to react a second too slow. His other foot was swept out from under him, causing him to awkwardly tumble to the side. Catching himself quickly, he pushed off the wall and set himself right.
“My, my… what have you brought home to us, Ridhor?” A slow smile spread across his face.
Melas’ brow creased as she looked at him. How he managed to react quickly enough to be standing there completely unscathed was a mystery to her.
Ridhor took a step away from Zura, his hands still lifted in front of his chest in hopes of appearing less threatening. “I’ve no idea, yet.”
The tall man’s brow lifted slightly, his smile broadening. He kept his eyes on Melas but she could tell his interest lay with Zura, which made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Taking slow steps, she was sure to keep her
gaze pointed at Ridhor but her blade on the tall man as she moved to position herself between Zura and the strangers who stood in the foyer with her.
The tall man’s gold eyes were suddenly rimmed with red as he dropped his voice low. A knowing smile touched his lips. “Put the knife down.” He cooed at her, his voice almost hypnotic.
Melas’ brow shot up, mimicking the way his had only moments before. A look of disbelief curled her lip up as she looked at him. “Um, no.” Was this guy serious?
He balked at her refusal. “No?” He asked in incredulity.
“No.” She repeated.
His gaze shot over to Ridhor, still standing with his hands raised but now at the bottom of the steps to put as much space between him and Zura as possible.
The tall man took two quick steps towards Melas. “What do you mean no?”
Shocked by his sudden movement, she felt the world around her slow. The elements danced around her in a way that felt familiar but also confused her. Her blade sliced up, cutting through the elegant fabric of his shirt, before crossing down to cut the sleeve. She stood with the blade held out, the tip pointing at his throat.
Raising his hands just as Ridhor had been, surprise flickered across his face. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?” She asked, her eyes trained on him. Careful to keep Ridhor in her line of sight.
His hands roamed down to skim the cut fabric of his shirt. Holding out a hand, he looked at the deep red blood on his palm. “You cut me.” He said finally, his voice high as though she accomplished this unfathomable thing.
Keeping the knife held up, she dropped down to scoop Zura into her arms. She popped her hip to adjust her weight before waving the knife between the two of them.
Eyes closed, the tall man inhaled sharply. “What an interesting scent.” He smiled.
“Aye,” Ridhor agreed.
“I’ve not smelt anything like that in all my years.” He smiled. “And she has a child,” he pointed out.
Ridhor nodded. “I found them both collapsed in the Black Wood.”
“Really?” His voice was filled with curiosity. “What are you?” He asked her.
Hidden In Darkness (A Seven Realms Book Book 1) Page 2
