by Kali Argent
Sighing, she hitched up the skirt of her dress and crossed the room, stopping only inches away from him. “I don’t have very long before they realize I’m gone.” Her voice softened, and crystalline tears shimmered in her sapphire blue eyes. “Vane, you have to remember. Please, I need you to remember.”
A buzzing started in his ears, and his heart beat a little faster. “Remember what?”
“Remember that you love me,” she whispered. “The Morphs messed with your head. I don’t know what they did or how to fix it, so I just need you remember, okay?”
Vane shook his head. “I love you?” Even as he said the words, his chest began to ache, and his stomach tightened uncomfortably. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true. You love me, Vane. You call me prya. You saved my life, and now, I’m going to save yours. I belong to you, right? And you belong to me.”
Her words conjured images, just quick flashes, almost too fleeting for him to identify. Silky, raven hair fanned out over his pillow. Warm, pink lips pressed against his own with the sweetest sigh. A flash of white, lace curtains. A picture, his back turned to the camera.
“It’s okay,” the princess whispered, taking another step closer to him. “It’s going to be okay.” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and slanting her mouth over his.
The first caress of her tongue against his sent a jolt of electricity down his back, and a feral growl rumbled through his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be kissing her, and he definitely shouldn’t contemplating taking the princess to his bed and tasting every inch of her smooth, supple skin.
“I’m going to find a way to make this right.” She rose up on her toes and nuzzled the side of his neck, skimming her lips along the vein that pulsed there. “I’m so sorry, Vane. I’m so sorry this happened.”
In his mind, Vane saw the lights of an unknown city, shining on the horizon across a muddy river. Rain plinked off the surface of the water, and jazz music played somewhere in the distance. He’d drank coffee.
“Café au lait, to be exact. You like it?”
He remembered those words spoken to him, but he couldn’t put a face to the voice.
He remembered…a small, red flame.
“I’m sorry.” Her arms tightening around his neck. “I love you, Vane. I’m so sorry.”
Then, the sun exploded inside his chest. At least, that was how it felt to Vane. With shaking arms, he pulled Charlotte against him, holding her tightly while he stroked his hands down her back, her arms, her neck—anywhere he could reach.
“Vane?”
“Yes, my prya.”
“Oh, thank the stars.”
“Spoken like a true Nekros,” he teased, though he still couldn’t let her go. “How did you get away?”
She sniffled twice and rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I was in the infirmary, and when the doctor went to check my lab work, I snuck out.”
Lowering his chin to the top of her head, Vane closed his eyes and groaned. “Why were you in the infirmary, prya?”
Easing out of his arms, Charlotte held up her left hand to show off a white bandage dotted with drops of crimson. “I cut my hand, and then I convinced the doctor that I probably had an infection since I’m part human, and you know how we’re so fragile.” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned. “Thanks for the heads up about being an Atrean princess. That might have been nice to know.”
“Yell at me later.” Once he got her back to Nekron, he was never going to let her out of his sight again. Taking her injured hand, he cradled it gently and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss in the center of her palm. “Let me see it.”
“I will,” she answered, even as she pulled her hand away. “And I promise you can heal me later,” she added when he glared at her. “Right now, we have to figure out how the hell we’re going to get off the planet.”
“The Morphs,” Vane answered immediately. “I know how the Atreans are controlling them.”
He didn’t like the demons poking around in his head, but one of them had slipped some valuable information in along with his altered memories. He’d known he couldn’t trust that lying sack of shit, Asa Brax.
“That’s great.” Charlotte held her hands out to the sides and shrugged. “How does it help us?”
“It doesn’t,” a familiar voice answered from behind them. “But I can.”
Spinning on his heels, Vane pushed Charlotte behind him and reached for the dagger on his hip, only to come up empty. “Shit.”
“Don?” Charlotte peeked around him and frowned. “Or, whatever your name is.”
“Torren,” the Morphling answered. “My name is Torren.”
“And why would you want to help us?”
Vane resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Quiet, prya.”
“Don’t mistake this for kindness.” His bronzed skin rippled, slowly transforming to its natural mottled black, and twin horns appeared at his hairline. “I’m proposing an alliance, not a friendship.” He folded his arms over his chest, his muscles straining the fabric of his fitted, black T-shirt. “The Nekros once stood idly by while my people were imprisoned and enslaved. The time for neutrality is over.”
His father had been right. No matter what they did, war was coming.
Charlotte squeezed his arm, and he felt more than heard the breath catch in her throat. “It’s okay,” she whispered against shoulder. “We can trust him.”
Vane didn’t trust the demon, but he did trust Charlotte. “You’re sure?” Her gift had a tendency to be a little sketchy, but on the other hand, they didn’t have many options. “Charlotte, you have to sure.”
Pressing more tightly against his back, she peeked around his shoulder. “I’m sure.”
Vane had no weapons, no communicator, and no ship. He couldn’t fight his way through an army of Morphlings and Atreans while keeping Charlotte safe, and even if he did, they had nowhere to go. He didn’t like it, but had no choice but to accept Torren’s offer of aid.
“Okay, Morph.” Rising out of his defensive crouch, he reached behind him, wrapping a protective arm around his mate. “I’ll get you a meeting with the elders, but that’s the best I can do.”
Gods, his father was going to shit purple kittens.
Torren nodded. “I guess you’ll be wanting this back.” From his pocket, he pulled a sparkling red diamond and held it up by a delicate silver chain.
“Wow,” Charlotte breathed. “Is that it? Is that the Jewel of Atrea?”
Vane ignored her. “Where did you get that?”
Snorting, Torren tossed the neckless to him and shook his head. “I stole it. You were there.”
Vane caught the necklace by its chain and held it up to the light. “Yes,” he growled. “I remember. We were informed the Atrean High Council was in possession of the jewel.”
“They were.”
“And?”
Torren grinned, his white, elongated fangs shining against his black lips. “Now they’re not.”
If Torren could manage to infiltrate Division Eight, it stood to reason he’d have no trouble taking back the jewel from the pampered Atrean Council. The more important question what why he’d bother and what he hoped to gain by returning it to Nekron.
Outside the room, footsteps thundered down the hallway, shaking the floor beneath them. Panicked voices shouted in Atrean, yelling orders as they searched for their missing princess.
Charlotte jumped, pressing closer to his back. “Okay, guys, really, time to go.”
“Your word, Nekros.”
Looking the Morphling in the eye, Vane held his gaze for a moment and nodded. “You have my word.”
When Torren offered his hand, Vane reached for it hesitantly, bringing Charlotte with him so she could place her hand on the Morphling’s arm. It took everything in him to hold back his growl.
“Hold on,” Torren said with a smirk, just as the bedroom door burst open and three Atrean guards rus
hed across the threshold. “This might get bumpy.”
* * * *
“Charli!”
“Xavian!” Bounding into the commander’s office, Charlotte wrapped her arms around Xavian’s neck, squealing when he lifted her off her feet.
Stomping across the carpeted floor, Vane grabbed his mate around the waist and hauled her behind him, placing himself between her and his best friend. “Watch it,” he warned.
He could practically feel Charlotte rolling her eyes at him. While he trusted Xavian, he couldn’t always control his instincts when it came to his familar. Seeing her in the arms of another male, even one she viewed as something akin to a brother, made him see red. Sometimes, he thought the pair of them did it just to drive him crazy.
Lowering his head, Xavian took a deep breath and threaded his fingers through his long, ebony hair. “I’m not good at this apology shit. Every part of me said we shouldn’t trust that little Atrean bastard.” He lifted his head and rested his hands on his hips. “So, are we cool?”
“That’s it?” Charlotte moved to stand beside him, slapping at his arm when Vane tried to push her behind him again. “That was a really crappy apology, Xee.”
Vane had known Xavian long enough that words didn’t matter. “Yeah, we’re cool.”
“I’ll make it right,” Xavian vowed.
“I know you will.”
A quiet huff drew his attention to Charlotte, and he laughed when she shook her head and grumbled under her breath. “Men.”
The Jewel of Atrea had been returned to Division Eight immediately upon their arrival in Pandora. Torren had offered his assistance in helping them fortify their defenses against other Morphlings, which went a long way in smoothing the commander’s ruffled feathers.
“Where’s the Morph?” Xavian asked.
“At the Hall.” The elders had called an emergency meeting and were currently deliberating on whether or not to offer Torren sanctuary on Nekron. “The Atreans?”
The office door slid open, and Commander Schiva stalked into the room with a disgruntled frown. “We’ve filed sanctions against the Atreans for their part in Charlotte’s kidnapping.” He nodded at her as he rounded his desk. “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”
“Hi, Bael.” Rocking up on her toes, Charlotte gave him a little wave. “Bad day?”
Vane’s mouth fell open when the commander winked at her. Maybe it had been a trick of the light. Probably his father just had something in his eye, because Commander Bael Schiva did not wink. Hell, he barely blinked.
“The elders have decided to grant the Morphling sanctuary,” the commander announced. “I don’t trust him, and I want him watched. Understood?”
“Understood,” Vane and Xavian answered together.
“Good.” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward over his desk. “Now, tell me how the hell a Morph ended up in my compound.”
Vane recounted the story, deferring to Charlotte to fill in the blanks. “The Atreans are controlling the Morphs with the Seal of Solomon. The ring Asa was wearing.”
Asa Brax had vanished just after Charlotte’s abduction, leaving behind no trace of his whereabouts. The guards had searched Pandora, the city, and even scoured the outlying villages. Asa’s ship remained under guard in the landing fields on the other side of the frozen lake, but so far, they hadn’t been able to locate the little weasel.
When Vane found him—and he would find him—he was going to peel the skin off the Atrean strip by strip.
Crossing his arms, Xavian shifted his weight to his right leg and then back to his left. “How do we know this Torren guy isn’t also being controlled by the Seal?”
“I don’t think he is.” He’d have to confirm his suspicions with the chroniclers, but he had a theory. “I think the Seal of Solomon is a Legacy Relic. The Atreans can wield it, but since Asa Brax isn’t a Legacy, the ring is beginning to lose its power over the Morphs.”
The commander stared at some point over Vane’s shoulder and nodded several times. “It would explain the rebellion.”
“And why the Atreans are desperate to find another way to control them,” Xavian added.
“Torren was right.” Damn, Vane didn’t think he’d ever hear those words coming from his mouth. “The time for neutrality is over.”
Whether they liked it or not, war was coming. It might not happen right away. It could be weeks, months, or even years before someone fired the first shot, but it would come, and they needed to be ready.
Xavian broke the silence first, snorting as he stared down at his boots and shook his head. “All this over a damn female.”
Tucking Charlotte against his side, Vane held her close and kissed the top of her head. Maybe Xavian had a point, but for Vane, she was definitely worth fighting for.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Things remained quiet throughout the following week, but anticipation of things to come hung over Pandora in a thick cloud. Vane didn’t reveal many details, but Charli could feel his anxiety, and she, too, worried they waited in the calm just before the storm.
“Charli, are you ready?”
Shaking out of her depressing thoughts, Charli turned to smile at Vane’s mother. “I’m ready.”
“I have to join the other elders, but you’re going to do just fine.” Pushing back the hood of her purple robe, Neith held Charli’s face in both hands and kissed her brow. “I’m grateful he has you.”
“I’ll take good care of him,” Charli promised, though she knew she should be the one offering gratitude.
With one last look, Neith repositioned the hood over her head and disappeared through the double doors of the Hall, leaving Charli alone in the lobby. Her body tingled with nervous energy, and it took several deep breaths before make her feet move to follow.
Dressed in a pink gown with thin straps and a gossamer overlay, Charli had left her hair loose to cascade over her bare shoulders. Though he’d never said anything, she knew Vane liked her hair down so he could thread his fingers through it when he kissed her.
Sucking in one more deep breath for courage, she released it slowly and reached for the door with a trembling hand.
The Hall looked exactly the same as she remembered it from Vane’s trial, although without as many people. The elders sat in their high-back chairs along the dais, their hoods casting shadows over their faces. Rows of curved benches stretched from the center of the room back to the walls, separated by wide aisles like the one Charli currently strode down.
Xavian, Lex, and Eryx sat together in one of the front rows, grinning at her as she made her way to the center of the room. A little further back, Commander Schiva watched on, his arms crossed over his chest, but the hint of a smile curved his lips. Even Torren was there, though he remained in the dark alcove near the staircase that led to the overhead balcony.
It all faded away when Vane turned and met her gaze.
Dressed in his uniform of black leathers and a fitted, long-sleeve shirt, he waited for her in the center of the Hall, his eyes shining with warmth as he offered his hand. Placing her fingers against his warm palm, Charli gasped when he bent her backwards, burying his fingers in her hair and kissing her soundly in front of everyone.
“You look beautiful, prya. Are you nervous?”
“A little,” she admitted as he pulled her upright again.
“Just focus on me, okay?” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you.”
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Charli offered him a wobbly smile. “I love you, too, Vane.”
“Don’t be afraid. It won’t hurt, and it’ll all be over before you know it.”
“I’m not afraid.” It seemed funny now that she’d once balked at the idea of wearing his mark. She wanted this, a visible representation of their love, a beacon that proclaimed to everyone who owned her heart. “I’m ready.”
Standing before her, Vane lifted his voice for everyone in the Hall to hear. “Charlotte Rousseau, I promise to protect,
honor, and cherish you. I will love you in this life and the next, until the stars fade from the sky. You will never be alone, will never want for anything.” Bending, he pressed his lips to her ear to whisper the last part of his declaration. “You are my heart, my soul, my very breath. You are my everything. Do you accept me as your own?”
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over, but Charli didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I do.”
“See?” Vane murmured as he moved to stand behind her. “Not so bad.”
Cool metal brushed against her skin, and a delicate chain draped around her neck. “Vane?”
He quieted her with a gentle kiss to her nape. “Your skin is too beautiful to mark, prya. This will work just as well.”
Charli didn’t need to be able to feel his emotions to know he was lying. He’d done this for her, because he knew she’d been anxious about the brand that other Nekros females wore. She wanted to wear his mark, though, not just for him, but for herself as well.
“Vane, it’s perfect, but…” Turning toward him, she removed the chain and stared down at the silver, winged dagger with Vane’s initials caved into the hilt and smiled. Then she dropped the choker into his right palm and curled his fingers over it. “I’m not afraid.”
“Be sure, Charlotte. Once it’s done, it can’t be undone.”
“That’s what I want.”
Pocketing the necklace, Vane curled his fingers around the back of her neck, gentle cradling her throat as red, flickering flames erupted from his palms. A warm tingle spread across her skin, starting at her nape and moving to the hollow of her throat, just above her collarbones.
As the heat dissipated, Vane tugged her closer to claim her lips. “Thank you,” he said simply.
“Can I see it?”
Chuckling under his breath, he removed one of his daggers from his belt and held it horizontal to the floor with the flat side of the blade facing her. “Will this suffice?”
Staring into the reflection of the shiny blade, Charli traced the raised, pale lines on her neck that crisscrossed like the links of a chain. In an exact replica of the choker, the lines came together to form a small, winged dagger with Vane’s initials clearly visible in the hilt.
