Mark of the Fallen: A Fallen Novel

by Jones, Tanisha

  "No dear. You kicked the table over,” she said, rising and running a hand over her skirt. "I will go and see what is taking the kitchen so long with that refill." She laughed. "And you need food, maybe soup? Don't want to force anything too heavy." She looked at Gaston and Lisette, motioning for them to follow her. "Come on, let's allow Celeste get some rest." She leaned over, kissing her on the forehead, and then followed the others out. When she closed the door, Celeste let out the air that had collected in her lungs. If she hadn't heard it, seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed it. There had been a shadow, slight and rapid that crossed Arbor's face. If she had not known Arbor, had not been around her for the better part of eight hundred years, she would have never believed it even possible.

  She'd asked the question because she'd remembered seeing her sip from that delicate white china cup with pink roses. She'd made a face, like she'd tasted something strange in her honey sweetened tea. Whether she'd known it or not, Arbor had done something she hadn't done in the eight hundred plus years Celeste had known her, something she didn't think Arbor could or would ever do.

  Arbor had lied.

  ***

  She had dozed off again, after eating two bowls of chicken noodle soup and drinking another glass of fresh blood. She wondered who was donating, but it was bringing her back to herself quickly. When she rolled over this time, she felt a body next to her. She felt the caress of gentle fingers on her cheek and the smell of the ocean. She opened her eyes to find Karim staring back at her.

  "Good night, sunshine," she said, leaning over to kiss him. He held her closer, kissing the top of her head. "Don't ever scare me like that again. What was that?" He asked, feeling her shrug in his embrace.

  "I have this thing I can do," she said vaguely. He looked down at her, his brow raised in question.

  "Do go on," he said and she tried to explain her ability to read thoughts. "So you can read my mind?" he asked when she was done explaining that night. She shook her head.

  "No. With preternaturals, it's different. Humans, I can block. I only hear what I want, when I want from humans- preternaturals, not so much. I can feel emotions, bits of images get through and sometimes a thought or two but that night I could hear everything crystal clear. It was like someone turned on fifteen hundred radios, each broadcasting a different wavelength at once. It was overwhelming and one was like a bull horn in my head."

  "Is that why you started yelling about tea?" he asked.

  "Something was in Arbor's tea. She said she didn't drink it when I asked, but she lied, Karim. I may not remember much about that night, but I remember her drinking that tea. When I tried to get something from her, there was nothing there. Her mind was blank, empty. Lilith did something to her."

  "I think she did something to you, too." He kissed the top of her head, his hands stroking her bare back beneath the covers. "Are you just in your underwear?" He pulled the covers away and looked down.

  "Yes. Why don’t you join me?” she teased, kissing his neck. “I understand you did something to Lilith."

  "I almost killed her," he said. "I have never wanted to kill anyone more in my life. She did something and she likes to play innocent. I believe she did more than just tell the Dark Queen about your Mark. She's up to something." She nodded against his chest, getting another whiff of the stench that surrounded him like a cloud of funk.

  “You smell awful. What is that? Rotten eggs?” She asked, moving away from him.

  "I bit Lilith. I was going to rip out her throat, her blood tastes like sulfur, but …" He stood and stripped out of his shirt, kicked his sneakers and socks off, intent on joining her under the covers. When his hands moved to the fly of his jeans, her eyes drifted down, watching as he released the first two buttons. She licked her lips, her headache suddenly not that big of a deal. She was suddenly in need of something other than food or even blood. Karim cleared his throat and snapped his fingers, making her meet his gaze.

  "My eyes are up here, young lady. After what you've been through, you need to feed and rest, sex should be the last thing on your mind," he said. She got to her knees in the bed, her head still throbbing and her stomach growling from hunger, but she also wanted to hold him, to feel his skin against hers. She kept her eyes on his as she unfastened her bra and let the straps slide down her arms, before she tossed it to the floor. She moved her hands down her hips to the lacy elastic of her panties and watched his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed. She slipped out of them and watched his eyes darken and his fangs extend.

  "Should be, but it's not. Right now you are on the top of my list." She eased off of the bed and came closer to him, her blue eyes gleaming in the darkness.

  "I don't think we should, azizam. You're still weak," he said, without much conviction. She was so close and smelled of vanilla and lavender, that devious smile on her lips. That smile always did it for him.

  "I'm sure we can figure out something that wouldn't be too ... strenuous." She ran her fingers across his bare abdomen, caressing the tense muscles and continued walking past him into the bathroom. He stood for a moment in the dim light cast by the single lamp in the massive room and counted to ten. When he heard the shower start, he abandoned the countdown and his jeans.

  ***

  They lay side by side in her bed, the curtains drawn against the late morning sunlight. When they got out of the shower, smelling like flowers and sex, they slipped into bathrobes that had been laid out on the chaise in her dressing room. A late breakfast had awaited them in her sitting area with fresh flowers from Arbor's garden.

  "Frederick," Celeste said with a fond smile. Karim had looked at the gourmet breakfast and purple hyacinths, her favorite flower of course, and shook his head. He knew that it was ridiculous, but he still felt a tinge of jealousy whenever he thought of how Frederick had saved her life. He hadn't hesitated when he'd swooped in like a superhero and breathed life into Celeste. Then he'd calmly carried her up to her bedroom, mounting the grand staircase like Rhett fucking Butler.

  "Yeah, Frederick," he sniffed. Celeste caught the sarcasm in his voice but said nothing. It didn't matter now, she thought, moving closer to him in the bed.

  "But that isn't what I need, I need you," she said, her fangs extending and he smiled, holding his wrist out to her. She had his wrist to her lips, her teeth buried in clean flesh as she drank, her eyes glowing vivid cerulean. With each pull on his vein, a small involuntary moan escaped him. Celeste reached out, her hand slipping into the folds of his robe, gently stroking him as she fed. He closed his eyes, his fangs extended and he ached to sink them into her, to taste her, claim her. Yet, he knew that he couldn't, not now.

  When she released him, she rolled onto her side, her eyes like beams of light, and her damp hair in dark ringlets around her face. She looked healthier already, her skin smooth and luminous. She was breathing hard, her hand still moving beneath the folds of his robe. She lowered her mouth to his, filling her senses with him. She intensified the velvety petting, and he moaned into her mouth, his arms encircling her and dragging her body closer. She did him one better, straddling him, easing him inside of her. He made a noise, a deep rumble in his chest, his hands buried in her hair, pulling her mouth back to his.

  "Do it," she whispered against his lips, then turned her head, exposing her neck. He watched the pulse point jump against tender skin and he could feel her heart beating, smelled her blood and arousal and he wanted nothing more. He opened his mouth, grazing her skin with his teeth, but couldn't break the skin. Something was blocking him - stopping him some magic that he had never known. He kissed the skin there, just below her ear and tried again, and again he was repulsed.

  He rolled her onto her back and her robe opened, exposing naked flesh that smelled of wanting. She lifted her hips greeting his body as it moved into her, her eyes and hands on his face. He wanted her so much, needed her. He drove harder, trying to lose himself in her. She moaned, encouraging him as he tried again, this time managing to kni
ck her. It was only a knick, a bloodless scrape and seared him, burning his mouth and throat. It felt as if someone had stabbed the roof of his mouth with a red hot poker. He growled in frustration and sprinted from the bed.

  "Fuuuccckkk," he bellowed and kicked the bedside table over. Celeste sat up, closing her robe, the hurt evident on her face. Karim turned and looked at her and his heart hurt even more.

  "If you don't want to mark me, it’s okay." He was back at her side, on his knees, his face buried in her lap.

  "I can't." It was a low hoarse whisper, and she thought, for a second, that he was crying. "I want to make you mine more than anything in this world or the next, Calie. I have always wanted to make you mine, to claim you as my mate. I should have done it all those years ago when I had the chance, but now it's too late."

  With a shaky hand, she tilted his head up so she could look into his eyes. She had never seen him cry, not that she could remember. She'd seen him angry and she'd seen him upset but this was something new. She slipped off of the bed, kneeling next to him on the floor, her thumb wiping his tears away.

  "It's not too late. I love you, Karim, Prince of House of Tyre. I have loved you since you dragged me out of the sea. I loved you when you left me in the desert and when I punched you in the face. I want you, to be yours and only yours," she said, her own fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't know if it were a culmination of all of the things that had happened over the last two months, her near death experience or the fact that the man she loved was inconsolable.

  "Mark me, take me as your mate. Please." The last word was barely a whisper and he crumbled, dragging her into his lap he cradled her, burying his face into her hair.

  "I can't mark you. That’s why I’ve never fed from you without you breaking your own flesh. I have tried so many times, but I can’t," he whispered into her hair. "You have already been claimed."

  "He's dead." She said, shaking her head in protest.

  "He's not dead, Calie," he said.

  "But we don't..." She stopped when she realized what he was saying. She rubbed the mark on her neck and cold dread washed over her. Once marked there were only two ways to remove it, one by mutual release, like a human divorce where both parties agreed to part. The other was if the one who made the claim were dead. That would void the claim, releasing her, but she hadn't been released, not in all this time. Even though she had never seen him and could not remember him, the bond remained.

  "You are mine," he’d said in her dreams "you will always be mine."

  "No," she whispered. Karim couldn't mark her because The Fallen One was still alive and when the time came, he would come and claim her. She held his head, forcing him to meet her eyes and brushed the hair off of his forehead.

  "I love you and I will be yours for as long as we have, marked or mated or not. I am yours Karim Tyre. For as long as I can be." She lifted her wrist and with one fang sliced the flesh and held it to his mouth. "Take from me, as I have taken from you and we will be as one." She whispered the vow that would bond them as mates.

  He drank, deep and long, filling his senses with her as his tears continued. She ran her fingers through his hair, her body reacting to not only the pull of him drinking, but the feel of his mouth, hot and hungry on her wrist. When he finished, he held her face, kissing her with a longing that she had never felt in him before. He held her tight, his arm around her waist as he looked into her eyes.

  "I take from you as you have taken from me and we will be as one," he said, holding her close. For as long as I can bear it, he thought.

  ***

  "Sweetie, I'm home." Lilith breezed into the apartment that had been Celeste's at the Collective compound. Acquiring the room had been easier than she thought. All she had to do was waltz in with the only son of the High Regent and just like that, she was on the authorized list to come and go as she pleased. It didn’t hurt that she had become Arbor’s constant companion, making her transition here much easier than she would have ever believed. All of the Kents were so willing to trust anything Arbor said, blindly following her lead. And she had Arbor Kent wrapped around her petite little finger.

  Sighing in satisfaction, she inhaled the sweet scent of lavender that always lingered in this place. Putting her shopping bags on the floor, she kicked the door closed behind her. She loved this place, the clean lines and lack of clutter, the sheer beauty and elegance of it.

  "Wow, it was so hot out there. It must be at least one hundred degrees in the city," she said, making her way across the living room to make herself a drink.

  "Hon?" She called, but received no response. She looked into the bedroom, half expecting to see him still in bed where she'd left him, but he wasn't. She placed her hands on her hips and began tapping her foot, wondering if he was in one of his foul moods again. He was always in a foul mood.

  "Come!" She barked and he moved across the apartment quickly and silently, his face twisting in anger. He always had an angry scowl lately, she thought. He was dressed in black flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else. He looked tired and in need of a haircut and shave, but she had taken away the razors a few days ago when he'd tried to cut his own throat. That had been a harrowing experience, she'd fallen asleep and he had managed to get a straight razor. Unable to harm her, he harmed himself. When she found him, he was laying on the bathroom floor, a wound at his neck, pouring blood. She'd managed to heal him but now he was not allowed anything that could be used as a weapon, not for her safety, but for his. He stared at her, his eyes shifting from brown to serpentine green to shark-like black.

  "Are we pouting today?" she mocked him, giving his scraggly beard a tug.

  "Get away from me," he mumbled through clenched teeth. She gave his cheek a gentle pat and shook her head.

  "If you're nice to me, I will be nice to you," she said. He sat on the sofa looking her over and smirking.

  She wore dark jeans on her slim frame, converse sneakers and a t-shirt from Nicky Sky's first world tour. Her hair had been straightened and worn in a high ponytail and her eyes, normally white were neon blue.

  "You can dress like her, live in her room, wear her perfume, but you will never be her. You are a very poor imitation," he snarled, amusement in his voice. "You're pathetic."

  "Be nice, Remy. I have great news. Don't ruin my mood. I have just been made heir to the High Regent. Arbor is so sweet. Did you know that she could add a codicil to her will naming her successor? It's iron clad, completely unimpeachable. She is amazing, almost like a mother..." she said, twirling around the room. Remy snorted.

  "You know, it amazes me how you think that what you're doing is acceptable. I guess it shouldn't though, because it's the only way you could get anyone to spend more than five minutes in your company. You vapid twat."

  "Don't make me take your voice away again." She folded her arms across her chest and regarded the way one would a petulant child. He returned her gaze, his eyes shifting to amber, then back to brown. She wasn't going to let him shift until she wanted him to. He glowered at her, his eyes narrowing as he fought against the magic she used to hold him.

  "Fuck you," he yelled. She leaned over him, her face close to his, a wicked smile on her face.

  "Be nice, love." She kissed him, forcing a response out of him. He hated it, hated the fact that she could manipulate his body, make him yield to her whims. She had made sure she could control every physical aspect of him, but she couldn't touch his mind and it drove her mad. If he were human, he supposed, she could control his emotions as well, but he was too strong for that. She had managed to get every ounce of information she could about Celeste. Torturing him by making his heart stop, breaking bones and forcing rapid shifts between human and animal forms that were both painful and draining.

  "You know that the moment you release me, I will tear your motherfucking face off and use it to wipe my ass, you psychotic cunt," he said with a sweet smile. Her smile faded, replaced by the ever present anger that resided just beneath the surface.
She grabbed his face, her nails digging into flesh that already sported healing cuts and bruises.

  "I warn you, Remy don't make me do unpleasant things to you," she said.

  "Maybe I'll let Karim finish what he started. Maybe this time, he'll crack your fucking head open." He laughed.

  "And maybe this time, I'll slice the skin from your thighs. Or better yet, Briar's thighs. Maybe his back, or his face, he has such soft, tender skin doesn't he? And those eyes, they would look so good in a little glass jar. Or maybe, I'll just cut off his balls and feed them to you. I can get him for you, maybe give you one last night with him before I put his pretty head on a spike. Or maybe, I will take him for a test ride of my own before I slit his throat." She licked her lips and smiled that evil, wicked grin of hers and laughed manically. She truly was a psychopath, he thought.

  Remy could feel his rage bubbling to the surface, his eyes blackened and his teeth sharpened to points.

  "Oh, are we angry? Well," she motioned with one finger and he was on his feet. "Let's use that to my advantage." She pointed to the bed, and because he couldn't stop himself, he turned and went to the bed. He stripped down to nothing and lay on his back, waiting.

  "You're lucky you're such a beautiful boy." She crawled across the bed, whispering the words she'd whispered so many times before, until his body was hard and aching. She straddling him then, forcing him to caress her milky white flesh.

  "If not," she sighed, moving her hips over him. "I would have killed you a long time ago." She leaned forward, capturing his mouth and he closed his eyes, his mind going to place it always went as she rode him. Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes as he thought of Briar's beautiful emerald eyes, his soft lips and surprisingly gentle touch.

  She bit his chest, grunting and moaning as she rocked against him, forcing him to look at her. He did, but he didn't see her. He saw nothing through the blur of tears and the agony of knowing that he had betrayed everyone: Celeste, Arbor and most of all, Briar. How would he be able to look him in the face again, to tell him what was done, how she forced him and how sometimes, not often, but sometimes, it felt...good.