Hidden In Darkness (A Seven Realms Book Book 1)

by S. J. Stewart

Hearing it out loud made her want to go on the defensive. She wanted to pull her hand out of his, shove him out of her space and tell him he was out of his mind. She didn’t care about anyone outside of Zura and herself. Taking in a deep breath she scowled. “Yes.”

  A slow smile touched his lip. “And you hate it.”

  She did. She really did.

  They’d been in this house with Ridhor for months and he was a constant. He was dependable. She hated that she liked that.

  Rolling her eyes, she became suddenly aware of the heat radiating from his thighs as she sat back on her heels between them. He wore combat boots on his feet. She removed his pants, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black fitted boxers. His fitted shirt was sinfully tight, his muscular arms flexing against the fabric.

  Melas let her eyes wander for a moment, taking him in.

  She should be embarrassed to openly ogle him, but the thought of losing him stole her breath. Folding her lungs, making her feel there wasn’t enough space in her ribs to breathe. She wanted to stare at him, grateful this plan hadn’t gone horribly wrong. Beholden she didn’t kill him.

  The wave of emotions shook her.

  Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. His thumb traced her jaw before moving along her bottom lip. “I’m fine.” He assured her.

  Melas glared. “How do you do that?”

  “You are very difficult to read, almost impossible.” He admitted. “But I have a need to know how to make you happy, so I wade through your impossible to make sure I can.”

  Smash.

  Another swing through her walls.

  Her eyes darted between his, trying to find words.

  “You can allow yourself to be free under this roof. I will give my life for your comfort, and mine is not an easy life to take.”

  If he kept this up, she would be left standing in the wreckage of her crumbled walls. Leaning forward, she let her hands gingerly move along the sides of his face, the tips of her fingers combing through his beard. “Ridhor.”

  “Yes, Melas.”

  “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  27

  MELAS

  In a world divided into Seven Realms, with potent magic flowing through them making them living, breathing things, Melas was no longer drowning. She felt lighter, the plan Orren set in motion allowing her to ease into a life resembling normalcy.

  As normal a life as she could muster without any memories of who or what she was.

  She was so wrapped up in everything; in the stories, the beings, the realms, she hadn’t noticed Ridhor climbing her walls until his feet were firmly planted on the other side.

  New life was breathed into her, a strong gale pushing away all her tension and worries and leaving her standing there bare. Not bare enough to build similar relationships with Andrei or Orren, but it was something.

  Andrei joked, claiming all it took was for him to be pulled from the shadows and stabbed within an inch of his life to turn Ridhor’s house into a home. He wasn’t wrong.

  Something happened in the moments after the attack with Ridhor. It made her feel crazy and wrapped in hormones. He stole glances throughout her days, his eyes burning with hunger for her. When he was bold, he stole kisses. Capturing her mouth, leaving her filled with heat and throbbing with need.

  He knew it too. She could see through his granite features, just underneath. He was as hot and bothered as she was. It was only a matter of time until one of them boiled over.

  The attraction was magnetic between them, but they both warred with who they were to take it any further than they already had. Ridhor was being cautious, afraid whatever he did would push her away. She was being cautious because she didn’t know how to do anything else.

  What she would give to be normal. To want something like sex and take it without getting so wrapped up in her thoughts she couldn’t see the way to get where she wanted anymore.

  She sometimes felt the same weighted glances from Andrei and Orren, though neither of them would dare steal a kiss. That wasn’t completely true, Andrei tried, proving Melas could still instinctively be stabby.

  There was something beyond attraction there. Each man pulling at her in a way she was helpless against. Beacons beckoning to her, guiding her through the fog.

  It was unnerving.

  Ridhor pushed her to be more open to the guys and the idea of friendship. As it were, they were all in whatever this was together. For some unknown reason, they were sticking by her as she tried to navigate this darkness clouding her mind.

  That alone was enough to make her stomach flip with unease.

  People didn’t do things for free, not without an agenda.

  Orren wanted his answers and that was likely keeping him around, but curiosity wasn’t enough to condemn him. It was actually something she understood.

  Andrei seemed fuelled by the possibility of getting her in bed. Orren joked that was the reason he kept Ridhor around too. That thought caused her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. The mental image of the two of them tangled up in the throes of passion.

  She wasn’t sure what she was into, but they were both beautiful. Andrei in a way that should be obnoxious, softened only by his playful personality, and Ridhor in this powerful way that was enough to knock her off her feet. She should know, he did that to her often enough. The two of them together would be art.

  Throw in Orren and someone was bound to have an aneurism at the very thought.

  With the relationship strengthening between Ridhor and Melas, she trusted him enough to be alone with Zura. That was no small feat. She still wouldn’t let them go anywhere far without her, like to town or fishing, but they moved in and around the house without her constant watchful eye.

  Right now she could hear Ridhor’s heavy foot overhead as he jumped around with her in her room, the sound of her laughter filling the air caused her to smile as she grabbed water from the kitchen.

  The smell of pasta made her mouth water as Andrei stood at the counter with an apron tied around his waist. He turned to look at her as she came up behind him, giving her a smile that somehow made his already impossibly handsome face more handsome.

  Returning the smile lightly, she gulped her water before gesturing to the stove. “That smells delicious.”

  “Lasagna.” He smiled.

  She watched him enough to know most of what she thought she knew about Vampires wasn’t true. He was always out, day or night, so clearly the sun had no impact on him. He ate and drank just as normally as they did and enjoyed a lot of Italian dishes which meant he often ate garlic. She also knew he had a reflection, often making sure every strand was in place in the mornings. It was why Orren often teased him about having his own bathroom. If he didn’t, no one would ever get to use it in the morning.

  Melas guessed a lot of what people thought they knew about Vampires was just a collection of fiction.

  Having one standing in front of her in the flesh did make her curious. It was the perfect time to figure out what was true and what wasn’t. “Does holy water burn you?” She jumped right in.

  Andrei’s brow rose and he chuckled lightly. Wiping his hand on a dishtowel, he leaned back against the counter before tossing it behind him. “Ah, I was wondering when I would get my questions. You seemed to have Ridhor thoroughly figured out.” She asked him everything she could think about being a Berserker pretty early on. “No. I was never a religious man, so trinkets like holy water or crucifixes have no impact on me. It seems silly they would. What if I were Buddhist or Muslim in life? Why is it only Christian artifacts would affect me because I’m a Vampire?”

  She never factored religious beliefs into the myths, but it made a lot of sense. There were so many religions in the world, figuring out a weakness based on religion would be tedious. “Who were you when you were alive?”

  “No one of consequence.” He said flatly, though his eyes flashed at the question.

  Interesting. “Are you Italian?” She gestu
red to the stove hinting at the dish he was making.

  “No. I was Romani.”

  “Was? You’re not anymore?”

  Andrei frowned at the question. “I suppose I still am. It just seems so… human. It’s been so long I feel the bridge from who I was to who I am now has long since burned. I’m a separate being from the little Romani boy who once ran barefoot through my village.”

  She could understand that. In a way, he was two different people, separated by the death of who he once was. “How old are you?”

  He laughed. “I heard it was impolite to ask that, and I’ve honestly lost track.”

  Andrei was the type to keep track of things like that, probably even celebrated birthdays. “No, you haven’t.”

  The humour from his face dripped off for a moment before he made an effort to hold onto it. “Next question.”

  She wouldn’t push. Something about who he was before becoming a Vampire made him avoid addressing it. Maybe he would tell her one day, but as someone who had a big blank space where her past used to be, she had no right to push unless she thought it somehow impacted her. Something told her it didn’t. “Can you control people with your mind?”

  “It’s called coercion, and both Orren and I have that ability.” He shook his head when he saw her face darken. “It doesn’t work on you. I tried it before you stabbed me the first time in the foyer.”

  The memory of him telling her to drop the knife came to mind. “That whole stake through the heart thing, any truth to it.”

  He laughed. “I imagine you can kill most things by shoving something through their heart, stake or not.”

  “True. Seems like a silly thing to tag onto Vampires. I could likely kill all three of you with a blade to the heart.”

  Andrei smiled. “True enough. Though I think your grip on Ridhor’s heart may get him killed long before you shove any blade through it.”

  Her grip on Ridhor’s heart. She kept the emotion off her face, wanting to process that alone and not under Andrei’s watchful gaze. “You seem strong, so the strength thing seems to ring true, but everything else seems made up.”

  He lifted his shoulders. “All to sell books and movies, I believe. Monsters are always more interesting when they have a weakness. It’s a very human trait to invent weaknesses in the things they find scary. A crack they can use to crumble a mountain.”

  “And you’re a mountain?”

  “You’re the crack.”

  She frowned again. “You’re saying I’m your weakness?”

  The playful glint in his eye was gone as he looked at her. The gold of his eyes suddenly fierce. “It would seem you’ve managed to become a weakness for all of us. Lucky for us, you are nowhere near weak.” A smile softened his features again, as though he flipped a switch remembering he was the fun one of the three. “Thank fuck. It would cost us to have a damsel thrown in our lap who couldn’t defend herself.”

  She was their weakness, the thought bothered her. “I’m your weakness, is that why you keep trying to kiss me? You’d think if I made you so weak, you would keep your distance.” She wasn’t teasing him, merely trying to understand.

  He held onto the counter on each side of his hips as he looked at her. “Asking the hard questions, I see.” He pursed his lips in thought before lifting his shoulders. “I’ve no idea why but it seems you call to each of us in one way or another. Something like this has never happened before. You do something to Ridhor who is usually aloof to the point of being a sociopath. Yet, you’re burrowed so deep in his chest he would set this and every other realm on fire if you asked him to. You’ve haunted Orren in his dreamscape, which shouldn’t be possible. Somehow you’ve been a beacon calling to him before any of us even knew you existed. And your scent is enough to make me feel ravenous. If I were not as old as I am, I’ve no doubt your scent would have me pillaging villages and draining everyone within sight completely dry. You ignite a hunger in me I have no doubt will be my undoing. There is something about you, I doubt we’d be able to leave your side even to save ourselves.”

  What. The. Fuck? She thought.

  He laughed at the confused look she couldn’t quite keep completely covered from him. “Just admit it. You kind of want to kiss me, too.”

  The change in topic was so quick it made her head spin. He thickened the air with tension and confusion, and just as easily he sliced through it so she could breathe again.

  Andrei was a lot more than she thought he was.

  Sure, he was the over-emotional ranting and pouting, playful Vampire she often saw who charged into almost every situation dick first, but he was also deep. An old soul who had knowledge etched into the depths of him no one thought to ask him to share.

  The little Romani boy who ran barefoot through his village.

  She wanted to figure out who that was.

  Shaking the thought away, she met his gaze with a raised brow. “In your dreams.”

  “Only every night since I first set eyes on you.” He admitted.

  Chamomile and sandalwood wafted through the air and she knew Orren stood just outside the door listening in. “Orren.”

  Andrei straightened, his head swinging to the door. “It always amazes me when she does that.”

  He stepped into the room in a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. “She can take down an Incubus, a Berserker, and a Vampire. I doubt there is a single soul in all the Seven Realms who can sneak up on her, but she still lives in this fantasy she’s human.”

  Melas lifted her shoulders in a light shrug as she moved to lean against the counter opposite Andrei. “When you come up with another species that fits, I’ll consider it.”

  “How do you do it?” Andrei asked.

  Telling them how didn’t seem like a risk. It wasn’t as though they could change it merely because they knew the how of it. “I’m guessing similarly to how you guys can identify one another. I can smell you.”

  Orren considered her words, grabbing his reusable bottle from the fridge and taking a long drink. “Ah.”

  Andrei frowned. “So, I smell like death and blood then?” He pouted.

  She remembered them telling her that’s what he smelt like when she first asked why they didn’t think she smelled human. Shaking her head, she considered him, inhaling sharply. “Actually, no. You do have a metallic scent to you, which I’m guessing is blood but the more dominant scent is spiced.” She lifted his shoulder. “I guess, it just smells very you.” She had no other way to describe it.

  He stood up straighter, a blush deepening the colour of his cheeks. “Me?”

  She shrugged again. “Yeah. It smells very Andrei. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know it’s you.”

  Orren lifted a brow. “And me?”

  Melas should’ve known this would turn into a whole thing. She remembered Ridhor told her he smelled fresh which, in a way, was true. She made a show of inhaling sharply again, if for no other reason than she knew it was making them both anxious. “You smell like sleep.”

  “Sleep?” He raised a brow.

  She almost laughed at the quizzical look on his face. “I guess, scents I would associate with making me sleepy. You smell like chamomile and sandalwood. It’s very relaxing.”

  Andrei inhaled sharply. “I don’t smell either of those things.”

  Orren inhaled as well. “You still smell like death to me.”

  Scowling at him, Andrei turned to take Melas in. “Why do we smell differently to her?”

  “Curious,” Orren murmured.

  “And Ridhor?” Andrei asked.

  She suddenly felt under a microscope as they both turned to watch her with wide eyes, waiting for her answer. Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest. “He doesn’t smell like a bear if that’s what you’re waiting for me to say.”

  Orren stood with his feet shoulder’s width apart as he watched her, eyes as intent as when they first met. She confused him, and he was trying to figure her out. “We’re not sure wh
at you’re going to say, hence why we’re waiting so anxiously for your answer.”

  Melas thought about it for a second. The memory of Ridhor’s scent wafted around her and she suddenly felt a heat blooming in her belly, her core tightening as she clutched her thighs closer together. Her cheeks heated as she cleared her throat.

  “Fuck!” Andrei sucked in a breath, red rimming his eyes. “Do you smell that?”

  She frowned. “Smell what?”

  “You’re aroused,” Orren growled.

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “The thought of Ridhor or his scent arouses you.” His silver eyes slowly moved down her body, zeroing in on her crotch before dropping down the length of her legs. “It’s intoxicating.”

  Straightening away from the counter, she moved around the kitchen island away from them, suddenly needing space. She kept her emotions off her face, sure, she was unable to control the blush that scorched her cheeks but knowing they could smell her made her want to flee the room.

  As though summoned, Ridhor stepped into the room. His nostrils flared, his pupils taking over the colour in his eyes as they moved around the room, settling on her. “What is going on in here?”

  The heat in Andrei’s eyes intensified. “We just found out we smell differently to Melas as we do to one another. We were just about to find out what you smell like when—”

  Her eyes flew to meet his before she turned and fled the room.

  “Sweet Lucifer.” Andrei let out a long breath. “She’s going to be the death of us.”

  “But what a way to go.” Orren grinned.

  * * *

  These men were becoming as much an affliction to her as her loss of memory. They were in her bloodstream, changing and shaping her against her will. They were under her skin, affecting her in ways she didn’t understand.

  Sighing, Melas tried to focus on Zura. She ran around the grass with a ribbon tied to a stick. Her laughing melodic, filling the air and floating toward her on the breeze. It helped uncoil the tension taut in her belly. The cool air whipping her face did what it could to soothe what was left.

  Nyx and Nox sang, circling Zura as she danced between them. Her eyes followed them, but her mind was elsewhere.