by Sara Page
From this spot I can see that he holds a holo-image disc in his hands. He must have swiped it from my drawer.
“Yes,” I answer and close the bathroom door behind me.
“You look just like her,” he says and finally turns from my armoire to face me.
I nod, glancing at the image of my mother, her name was Violana. “I hear that a lot. Especially from my father.” Since I turned sixteen, I don’t even need to look at the holo-disc when I try to picture her, I just look in the mirror.
“What happened to her?” Striker asks and his glowing eyes lift from my mother to regard me.
“She passed after giving birth to me.”
Striker makes a sound of disgust and clicks the disc, turning the image off. “Your medical technology is fucking archaic.”
I shrug, I guess when compared to the Ravagers it is. “I was told she suffered a brain aneurysm. It was unavoidable.” And it wasn’t my fault. No one believes it was my fault. I was just an innocent baby, I didn’t ask to be born.
Yet sometimes I do wonder if it wasn’t for me she would still be here…
Striker palms the disc, as if he’s considering what to do with it, then his eyes narrow and his gaze scorches me from head to toe. “I would never let such a thing happen to you.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, caught completely off-guard by what he just said. Though by now, you’d think I would be used to his kind of crazy.
He glances down at the disc then back at me and says entirely too seriously, “I would never let a brain aneurysm take you from me.”
I feel manic laughter bubbling inside of me. Is this real? Is this really happening? Who does he think he is? I shake my head at him, not sure what to make of it then I turn, walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?” he asks as I walk away from the conversation.
“I’m going to see the council,” I tell him just as I reach out for the door handle. “There are things I need to attend to.”
Suddenly Striker is there, beside me. Appearing out of inky darkness. He grabs my wrist, stopping me from reaching the door handle, and I feel the familiar, unwanted jolt shooting up my arm.
I hiss and try to jerk out of his grasp.
“No, Ameia,” he says harshly and his fingers tighten. The jolt increases. I hate the affect he is having on me. “We are staying here until Beast returns.”
I shake my head and feel my tiara wobbling. My voice becomes breathy because it’s suddenly so much harder to breathe.
The air around us has thickened and darkened.
“Unhand me.”
Striker smirks and pulls me into him. “No.”
I stumble forward, crashing into his chest. It’s vibrating, and it feels so damn good. It shouldn’t feel good. I shouldn’t feel any of this towards him, it’s straight up betrayal. What is wrong with me?
“What are you doing?!” I ask, using my free hand to push away from him. He only captures it as well.
Shit.
“I’m keeping you safe,” Striker chuckles and I glare up at him angrily, but my face is so flushed his smirk only grows.
“I don’t need you to keep me safe. There is no danger. There is nothing to protect me from.”
Someone needs to protect me from you.
Striker’s head dips down. The light from his eyes is so bright, I swear it feels like my face is warming beneath the glow. “There is danger everywhere. And I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you. I have to keep you close.”
“Why?” I ask.
His face is so close, my lips are tingling as if they’re waiting, expecting his to touch. Is he going to kiss me? Did I just ask him that instead of insisting he let me go?
“Because you are mine,” he growls.
“No,” I deny it, I can’t be. “I’m Beast’s.”
I try to pull away.
“You are mine too.” He pulls me into him until his chest is vibrating against my breasts.
Gods, help me. How did I lose so much control?
“No,” I say again in denial. You’d think he’d understand the meaning of the word by now.
The jolts of energy only increase as they flow through me. It feels as if every nerve, every inch of me is thrumming… pulsing.
“Can’t you feel it?”
No, I want to say. No, I want to lie. But there’s no denying it, especially as I feel as if my core is about to have a full-blown nuclear meltdown.
“Why?” I gasp. “How?”
Striker chuckles darkly. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Please,” I ask, trembling in his arms.
“Please what, Ameia?” his voice caresses against my ear like silk.
“Please…” I gasp and squeeze my thighs together, fighting the throb. “Stop whatever it is you’re doing and tell me how I’m yours.”
“You’re mine,” he says and his fingers tighten around me. I feel pinched by his grip and it hurts. “Because you call to me. Do you feel it? Do you feel every cell of your body screaming out to join with mine?”
“Yes,” I shudder. Is that what’s happening? My cells are screaming for him?
I focus on the pain, focus on it so I can think beyond the heat boiling my blood. “But I called Beast first. Why am I calling you?”
Striker chuckles and his chest rumbles, torturing my peaked nipples. “It doesn’t matter who you called first. What only matters is that I answered you. Don’t you remember?”
I shake my head and grind my teeth together. Inside I’m clenching.
“I remember it vividly,” his voice slides against me, slipping beneath my skin. “You called to me in your dream. You were on that planet in the Berma Tri begging me to rescue you.”
“What dream?” I ask, racking my brain, trying to think of what he’s speaking of but it’s hard, so, so hard with what’s going on with my weak body.
“You don’t remember?” he sounds more amused than insulted that I don’t. “You were in your pod and I had to cut you out.”
I gasp. “That was Beast…”
“No,” Striker grins, clearly enjoying himself as he corrects me on this. “That was me in your dream. And I came to you with the Harpy’s Talon, I did rescue you.”
“I thought you came to pick up Beast… you shot me.”
Striker frowns at that and then his grip on my arms loosens. He slides his hand down my arm, then he presses it against my stomach. I jerk, my muscles spasming at the sensation. I grab at his wrist, trying to pull him off me but my fingers feel numb, utterly useless.
“That was a mistake and I am truly sorry. I wasn’t aiming for you. I was honestly there to rescue you.”
I shake my head and lean back, using all of my weight to pull away from him. “It doesn’t matter.”
Striker pulls me back into him until I’m flush against his chest then he spins me around, pushing me up against the wall. “It matters to me.”
“Stop,” I groan and push at his chest.
The vibration increases, my knees are trembling.
His warm breath brushes against my skin as his face nuzzles into my neck. “I would if you really meant it.”
“I mean it, I do,” I say as I shiver, as he begins kissing me. The nerves in my neck scream to life as if they’re live wires. Live wires overfilled with crackling energy, an energy that shoots straight to my core. “I don’t want you.”
“You don’t want me,” he huffs and then his wet tongue strokes against me, swirling. “You need me.”
“No, no,” I deny it, even if my body is responding to him. My traitorous, dirty body. I’ve already given my heart away. “Beast. I want Beast. I need him.”
Striker growls and I feel his teeth scraping at my neck while his hands squeeze my arms. “And where is he now? Hmm? Where is Prince Drek? He left me here with you, to protect you while he runs off to play the white knight. To be your hero. And you know why?”
Striker leans back, giving me the full force of his angr
y red gaze. It’s like staring into the fires of Hell.
I shake my head at him and his eyes narrow at me. I don’t know why Beast left me here with Striker. I have no clue what the fuck he was thinking…
“He left me here with you because he knows he can’t control it. None of us can control this. It is beyond us. It is destiny.”
Well… that doesn’t exactly explain things.
Striker grins and goes on. “He wants me to play the villain. He left me here to handle all of this shit with your stepbrother then he’ll ride in to save your father. He’s set himself up to be your hero.”
Did Beast really do that? Would he? Unfortunately, I honestly don’t know…
“What? No more no’s for me, Ameia? Is it perhaps because you can feel that I’m speaking the truth?”
“I…” I want to say no, I want to tell him he’s wrong but… “I honestly don’t even know what’s going on.”
I can’t think of a good enough excuse for why he left me with you.
“That’s because Prince Drek doesn’t want you to know. He wants you to be clueless until he has you trapped on some ship deep in space where he can safely tell you.”
I stiffen, feeling cold at the thought that Beast really wants to do that. “Tell me what?”
“Oh? You want me to tell you? You want to know the big secret?” Striker asks with amusement. “I’ve been ordered not to.”
“Please Striker, tell me,” I plead with him. “How can I make any decisions if I don’t know what’s going on?” Though I’m no fool, I know I can’t trust his truth. I just want a freaking clue!
Striker makes a show of considering my plea then he asks me, his lips twisting, “What will you give me if I do?”
“What do you want?” I ask like a dumbass.
Striker growls and presses into me. “You know what I want. I want you.”
If only I could fall through the wall. If only I could fade into the shadows like a Ravager and disappear. Striker grinds into me and dammit if it doesn’t feel good. Dammit if it doesn’t reignite the fire.
It burns even hotter, even wetter than before.
I squeeze my eyes shut and somehow find the strength to say, “No, I can’t. Something smaller.”
“A kiss then,” he breathes out, his face up in my face, his nose grazing against my nose. His lips are so close, once more it feels as if mine are tingling, straining towards his.
“After you tell,” I choke. It’s just a kiss right? What more harm could it possibly do?
“Ameia,” he growls and then blessedly he releases my hands and steps back, giving me a little breathing room. “Blackspire is embroiled in civil war. It is a war that has been going on long before Prince Drek and I were born.”
I try to focus on him and not catching my breath.
“Prince Drek’s father, the King of Blackspire, declared my father an outlaw and traitor while my father’s followers and supporters declared him the true King of Blackspire.”
“Why?”
“To put it simply, because Prince Drek’s father, King Ros, believes that we as Ravagers should deny our baser instincts and plant ourselves firmly on this side of the realm. He wasted years creating treaties and attempting to officially join Blackspire to the Transgalactic Alliance. He wants Blackspire to be at peace with the rest of the universe. While my father believes we should embrace our nature, and encourages our people to accept our true, darker selves. We should tread heavily on the Other Side, and use it to conquer all that is rightfully ours.”
“What is the Other Side?” I ask and lean back against the wall, using it as support. I’m confused by much of what Striker is saying, but thinking about it and listening to him as he talks is giving my body the chance to cool down. I feel like I’m regaining some of my control. “And what is rightfully yours?”
“The Other Side is the shadows, my princess.” I grimace to hear him call me that. “It is where we were created and when we pass, it is where we return. When we tread in the shadows we reconnect with our true selves. And it gives us an advantage because only we and those who join with us are capable of traversing it. We can use it to conquer the universe.”
I shiver and wrap my arms around myself, thinking of the Ravagers being able to use the darkness to take over the universe. After hurtling through space, I can’t help but feel as if the universe is already just darkness trying to swallow up all the stars…
“Are you cold, Ameia?” Striker asks and I feel his hands coming down to rub against my arms.
I’m not sure exactly why I care, but it feels important to ask, “Do you share the same beliefs as your father?”
Striker’s hands pause and he seems to think hard. His brows pull together and he frowns before answering me. “I did but now I’m not sure.”
“What changed?”
“You,” he says softly, then adds, “And it seems like a waste of time and energy to try to conquer all of the universe. Only a portion of it is even worth the effort.”
Well, that’s a relief. But no, not really. I want to keep Striker talking though.
After his soft admission, he’s looking at me again with heat, and I can see and feel his eyes focused on my mouth. I know he’s thinking about kissing me, and it’s making me think about kissing him, which is only twisting up my insides even more. I can’t decide if I hate the thought of doing it enough, even though I really, really want to.
“If your father and Beast’s father are at war, why are you obeying Beast? Why did you hand over the Harpy’s Talon and give him control?”
“Trying to keep me distracted, are you?” Striker says, amused. He reaches up and his thumb strokes along my bottom lip as he talks, which makes it incredibly hard for me to process all of his words. Each brush, each stroke feels as if it strikes a spark. It’s distracting as hell.
“Prince Drek felled me in battle years ago. After imprisoning me for a decade, which forced my father into a ceasefire, I was then stripped of my title and given the option to join King Ros’ side by proving myself, or I could choose to be executed by fire. I, of course, chose to prove myself, not wishing to burn. Unfortunately or perhaps fortunately, depending on whose side you’re on, joining with King Ros enraged my father and he denounced me. Then he raised arms again for war.”
I do want to keep Striker talking, I do want to keep this going on for as long as possible, delaying the inevitable. But there’s also something else I want to delay too. The longer that Striker speaks and the more information he gives me, the more I dread discovering what my part is in all of this. I regret now even wanting to know.
“How did you have to prove yourself?”
Striker sighs. I can practically feel the impatience rolling off of him as he leans toward me and his thumb tugs my bottom lip down. “I was given control of the Harpy’s Talon and ordered to protect a small, quaint little planet incapable of defending itself.”
Striker tries to slip his thumb into my mouth but I clench my teeth together, ready to bite.
“I’ve been orbiting and protecting Terrea from my father for the past five years.”
I gasp in surprise and Striker must see it as an opportunity to kiss me.
Suddenly his mouth is covering my mouth. He groans and his chest purrs loudly while his tongue thrusts inside. Before I can even think, before I know what’s happening, he’s pressing himself into me as he kisses me. I can feel all of his hard edges trapping me against the wall, trapping me beneath his kiss. The very weight of him is crushing me where I stand, yet I can’t seem to fight the overwhelming urge to kiss him back.
My lips melt under his lips. For nearly sixty full seconds, I seem to completely lose myself. My tongue thrusts out, meeting his tongue. We duel, even like this it’s a battle of wills. For so long I seem intent on fighting him, intent on winning… Then I remember the bastard didn’t even answer the question.
My teeth find his bottom lip and I bite down.
Striker grunts and pulls away, brea
king the kiss. His fingers lift to touch and inspect his bottom lip.
I’m panting, my heart is racing in my chest. My ears are buzzing because I’m fueled by lust mixed with anger mixed with fear.
Striker pulls his fingers away and stares hard at them. Even in the red glow, I can see the black drops. I made him bleed. I tense up, expecting retaliation.
But he only grins at me, which is so much worse. “You drew blood first this time, princess. Well done.”
I frown at him. I almost want to apologize, I’m not one who enjoys hurting others. In fact, I feel bad for forgetting myself and losing control, but I bite my own tongue.
“I suppose I deserve that. I didn’t keep up my part of the bargain, did I? I’m supposed to tell you what Prince Drek doesn’t want you to know. What he’s afraid of that will keep you here, firmly planted on your homeworld.” Striker cocks his head to the side, regarding me.
“I don’t want to know now,” I say. Because I don’t. Gods, I seriously don’t want to know. It must be bad. It must be something awful if Striker is getting off on telling me. “Forget I even asked and we’ll call it even.”
“Now where would be the fun in that?” Striker laughs. “You, my dear, beloved princess are prophesized. You are the Beacon in the Dark. You will call your two princes to you and bear them each a child. The children you bear will then lead the Ravagers to the light and to the path of our true selves.”
Striker stares into my eyes and I don’t look away until I start to see spots.
“I’m supposed to have your babies?” I finally gulp.
Striker looks entirely too gleeful as I see him nod out of the corners of my eyes.
“I can see now why Beast would want to keep this a secret.”
Striker leans close. “I think it’s much more fun if you know.”
“Do you now?” I ask, panting. I can’t get enough air. Just the thought, the thought of having not only babies, but Ravager babies making me want to freak the fuck out.
Oh, my stars. Beast and I already joined. Twice. More than twice. I could already be pregnant.
Just wanting to help me relax my ass!
“Yes,” Striker purrs and his face dips down to my throat. He nuzzles against me. I feel him breathing in my hair. This is crazy. This is all insane. How did I even get here?
