Unexpected Eden

by Rhenna Morgan

  The slave ducked her head another inch.

  Thyrus’ chest puffed up and his multiple chins wobbled with an off-handed shake of his head. “No, but then I didn’t push the ma—”

  Maxis struck, coiling his fingers around the woman’s neck in a brutal grip.

  Her scream pierced the room and streaks of blue-white electricity sparked from her convulsing body. The veins at her temples strained, fingers clawing against his grip. A choked gasp. Dazed eyes.

  Done. He released his grip.

  The woman slumped to the floor in a boneless heap. The pristine white of her gown stood out against her red, blistered skin and a tinge of burnt hair tainted the air.

  “I was very specific about your instructions.” He kept his voice low and even, barely loud enough to carry over the crackling fire behind them. “Find your place. Now.”

  The woman pushed on trembling arms to her knees and her curly chestnut hair spilled over, hiding her face. Tears dropped to the cold, stone floor.

  Maxis faced his remaining guests. “Reese. Cutter.”

  Cutter was an unremarkable man. Moderately built with lackluster brown hair and an average appearance.

  Reese was the opposite. An imposing force with a warrior’s build, and hair like a lion’s mane, he glared at Reese with nothing short of condemnation. “Was that necessary?”

  Maxis shrugged and circled away from the men. “It’s efficient.” He sprawled in the throne-styled chair opposite his guests. “While you may not yet be fully on board with the ideals of the Rebellion, I expect you’ll hold your counsel until you hear what I have to say. Agreed?”

  Reese tossed a food scrap into the pit. “You didn’t leave me much of a choice.” The leather of his fitted coat groaned as he reclined into his seat. Of the three, Reese presented the greatest challenge, the one least inclined to submit.

  The one Maxis wanted—damn near needed—in his camp.

  Maxis crossed a leg over one knee. “The Rebellion’s lost too much ground since Evanora’s demise, thanks largely to my late father’s poor leadership. I’m prepared to fix that. To take the steps necessary to forward our principles among our people.”

  “Or you could let the Rebellion die.” Reese stared at Maxis from across the room, his expression as deadpan as his statement. “It’s an antiquated belief at best.”

  “A statement I’d expect from a man who trained to serve the malran.” Maxis steepled his fingers, warming from the buzz of adrenaline. “One would think with the way he turned you away you’d have a bit more incentive to see someone else on the throne. Someone who appreciates your skills.”

  Reese scowled.

  “I’ll get back to that.” Maxis focused on Thyrus. “We need to expand our audience. Find an ally within the ellan.”

  Thyrus sat a little taller and fiddled with the expensive rope belted around his burgundy solicitor robe.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the grumblings from council members of late,” Maxis said. “I’ve personally witnessed the malran spending an inordinate amount of time in Evad. Both our government and our citizens are questioning why. We’d be fools not to leverage the situation and find an ellan eager to align with us.”

  The three men exchanged furtive glances. Cutter shifted in his seat, his gown similar to Thyrus’, but pale green and several notches down in quality. “You realize we risk our identities with such an approach. We could be charged with treason.”

  Maxis smiled to cover his irritation. “That’s why we find the right ellan. One discontent with the malran and his behavior of late.”

  Cutter drummed his fingers on his thigh.

  Thyrus shrugged and snagged a slice of cheese off the plate on his side table. “Reasonable. Tricky, but reasonable.”

  Reese sat silent and unmoving, his broad shoulders making the two men at his sides look infinitesimal.

  Maxis stood and paced before the fire, hands clasped behind his back. “Not as tricky as you might think. Especially if we find one with a valuable secret to ensure our own are kept.” He halted directly in front of Reese. “You’re familiar with this practice, aren’t you Reese? You, of all people, know the value of keeping certain secrets buried.”

  Reese glared hot as the fire pit at Maxis and fingered the hilt of the dagger anchored at his hip.

  “You’re the key to the second step in my plan,” Maxis said. “With you as our strategos, we can build an army. A fully trained contingent that will force the malran and the ellan to respect our beliefs.” He lowered his voice, taunting. “I’ve got the land to train them. All we need now is you.”

  Unmoving, Reese held Maxis’ gaze. He’d been rejected as a warrior for the malran, deemed unworthy to serve for the secret he refused to share with Ramsay at his swearing in. A secret Maxis had used to bring Reese here today. A secret powerful enough to build a partnership.

  “This is your chance to use your skills. To show what you’re capable of.” Maxis held out his hand. “All I ask in return is a link so show your support. Are you with us?” He let the unspoken, Or do I share what you fear most with anyone who’ll listen, hover in the air.

  Reese’s pupils dilated and a flush tinted his cheeks. He took a good long look at the exit then focused on Maxis. “Agreed.” The terse acceptance barely made it past his rigid lips, but he clasped Maxis’ hand nonetheless and speared his link into Maxis’ palm.

  Pain. Sharp to his shoulder. Maxis welcomed it, a secret shadow in his soul settling on a sigh as he wrapped his own spirit around Reese’s energy and forged the connection.

  He pounded Reese on the shoulder, a weight he hadn’t realized he’d carried now lifted from his chest. “That leaves us one last item to cover, gentlemen.” Maxis ambled in Cutter’s direction and stopped near his kneeling slave. He fingered a lock of her hair. “You’ve enjoyed the use of her?”

  Maxis didn’t need to scan Cutter’s thoughts to know how thoroughly he’d used her. Cutter had his own secrets. An impulse to force himself on women, the screams of his victims driving Cutter’s pleasure to euphoric heights—and a few unfortunate, aristocratic deaths. Luckily, Maxis had been there to lend the eager fool a hand.

  Cutter’s gaze darted to the woman then to Maxis before giving a hypnotic nod.

  Crouching next to the woman, Maxis tucked the strand of hair behind her ear and absently stroked her head. “She’s yours. Consider it a gift of friendship as we begin our endeavor together.”

  Cutter’s moderate frame expanded. “Th-That’s more than generous of you, Maxis. You’ve clearly invested much time in her training. Are you sure?”

  “What are friends for?” He returned to his throne, his steps lighter than they’d been in years. “In fact, I propose we capture, train and distribute slaves to strategic points. How best to convey our point than with a good dose of reality?”

  “Not so sure you’d find common folks eager to take on slaves.” Thyrus absently petted the head of the slave at his side. “Too much risk if the malran finds out.”

  “You think the good people of Asshur would turn down free labor? The population here is dwindling. Those who’ve chosen to remain, despite the less hospitable climate, have suffered from lack of available workers. What better way to indoctrinate the Myren people than demonstration in the form of slaves to ease their burden. They’ll not only prosper from the help, but they’ll fall more quickly in line with our cause.”

  “A few select brothels might not hurt as well,” Cutter said, his gaze locked on his new prize at his feet.

  “An excellent idea.” One Maxis wished he’d thought of himself.

  He took his seat, stroked the black lacquered arm of his chair, and let the silence pulse between them. “Give it some thought.” He waved at the food. “Talk amongst yourselves and tell me what you think.”

  Reese shot from his chair and paced along the farthest wall. T
hyrus followed, ever the eager one for gossip, and Cutter fell in line behind him. The two men chattered with an almost cultish glaze to their eyes while Reese scowled at them from a distance.

  Five minutes. He’d wait that long or until their muttered conversation died down. Still nothing from Reese, his eyes darting to the exit in one-minute increments.

  “Tell me, Thyrus.” Maxis stood and joined them. “Do you have any prospects we might consider for better relationships with the ellan?”

  Thyrus wiped a meaty paw across his mouth, yet managed to miss the majority of what needed attention. “I think our best focus is Angus Rallion. He and Eryx went to blows only a month ago. Eryx found him guilty of treason for standing in his place during criminal trials and stripped the geezer of his rank. Angus has grumbled ever since.”

  “He’s lucky.” Cutter snatched a fresh morsel from the tray of goodies and strolled to where his slave still kneeled. “Eryx could have stripped his powers or hung him under the stamp of treason.”

  Oh, this was good. Of all the emotions to work with, revenge was the easiest to manipulate. Especially when it forwarded his own. “Lucky for us he didn’t.” He shifted closer to Thyrus.

  Reese kept his place at the wall, ignoring the conversation. Too much distance. Something Maxis would need to work on.

  Maxis handed Thyrus a much-needed napkin and leaned a hip against the table. “How do you feel about arranging a meeting between me and this Angus fellow?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem.” Thyrus shrugged, wiped his pudgy fingers and disregarded his face altogether. “Any topic in particular?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Maxis handed Thyrus another particularly greasy hunk of meat. May as well keep his allies well fed. “I have some information about our malran and his visits to Evad. Something a man with a grudge might find very interesting.”

  Chapter 11

  Eryx swiped the last beads of water from his body and tossed the towel to the floor. The damned thing was too soft for his mood. Every joint and muscle ached with fatigue. Feeding Galena energy while she anchored Lexi had stripped him to the point he shouldn’t be able to stand—but he couldn’t disengage enough for sleep. Not with Galena’s warning about the sedative rattling round and round in his head.

  Tradition in our world, sure. But in her book, you’re a deceiving bastard. The fact that she was confident she’d handled damage control via girl-to-girl talk didn’t matter. Nothing would until he talked to Lexi himself.

  If she’d ever wake the fuck up.

  He wrung the lingering water from his hair and a few of his knuckles cracked. Why he’d thought a shower was a better idea than hovering bedside was beyond him. Instead of clearing his head, his anxiety had jump a notch, his thoughts meandering the path of what he’d have to face if she didn’t wake up.

  He snatched a pair of silk black pajama bottoms. May as well get dressed and wait it out. Maybe think positive and ask Orla to have some food ready.

  A broken whimper eased beneath the bathroom door.

  With a quick yank, he drew the pants up and threw the door wide.

  “Get them off me!” Her eyes sealed shut, Lexi raked her nails along her neck and thrashed beneath the sheets.

  He pinned her free hand to the bed and healed a slow-seeping gash on her check with a swipe of his thumb. Other welts covered her neck and jaw, limited only by the fact her other hand was too tangled in the sheets to add more damage.

  The wound mended and faded as he tackled the next batch of scrapes. “Lexi, wake up.”

  She writhed beneath him, her eyes still closed. “Bugs.” Her head shuttled side to side. “Fire. Hurts.”

  Fine sparks of electricity snapped around them and an untamed gust of air swept the room. Whatever the cause for her slow and tedious transition, it was well and truly over now. She’d gone from an untapped Myren hull to a powder keg of energy—too much of a good thing trapped in an unprepared and unconscious body.

  “I know, baby. You gotta wake up.” He wanted to be gentle. Tried to ease the grip at her wrist while he unwound the sheet from her other arm, but the fine sheen of sweat covering her made the task a challenge. “You’re on overload. Wake up. Let me help you.”

  Wind whipped around him, his once drenched hair drying fast beneath its fury.

  “Make. It. Stop.” She flung herself forward.

  Air whooshed, and he slammed into the far wall with enough force to rattle the room. He shook his head, the edges of his vision fuzzy.

  Lexi’s roar still resonated through the room, carried on a nearly constant stream of air. Even now, sitting upright in bed, she struggled to open her eyes.

  Memories of his own awakening fired bright. The sluggish thoughts, the disorientation, the burn of strengthening muscles—the worst hangover of his life.

  Lexi kicked at the sheets and took a fresh swipe at her now exposed arms, leaving another angry mark in the wake of her nails.

  He shot forward and held her to the bed. “Lexi!” The command was strong enough to startle a corpse, but it worked. Her eyes popped open in time to let loose a ragged scream.

  “Lexi, damn it.” He shook her. “Look at me”

  The arch of her neck slackened enough to level her gaze with his. Tears pooled in her eyes and her lips trembled. “Help me.” Her haggard plea punched through his gut, fisted his insides, and twisted.

  Repositioning so they were palm to palm, he laced their fingers tight. “Push the energy into me. Focus on my hands.”

  Tremors shimmered through her. “Don’t know how.” A bead of sweat slipped down her temple and her chest heaved on a ripple of sobs.

  “Bullshit.” He gripped harder and got nose-to-nose so she’d have no choice but to focus. Her blue-gray eyes darkened to stormy gray, nearly consumed by the black of her pupils. “You threw me across the damned room. Now push the energy into me. Do it. Now.”

  Her body bowed and a grated wail ripped through the room.

  Wind lashed against his bare back, but the barest trickle of energy eased into his palm.

  Lust. He shook with it, a pure compulsion fired by the stroke of her unique power. Sunshine and rapture. Innocent sparkle and shady sin. It licked along his skin with a thousand tiny tongues for the most erotic stroke of his life.

  His lips were at her jawline before he realized it, the herbal scent that clung to her filling his lungs. “That’s it.” He nuzzled her earlobe. “Give it to me.”

  A fresh wave of energy answered. It shot up his arms and down his chest to cradle his balls. Praise The Great One, he was a fucking leech. He needed to keep his head. Focus on funneling the surplus of energy from her strained body. Drain her to a point she could function and think. Not coax them both into a sexual haze. Damn it if his dick wasn’t hard enough to pound nails.

  Lexi moaned beneath him, the throaty sound penetrating the carnal focus of his thoughts. She’d stopped thrashing. Had softened and taken up a hedonistic rhythm with her hips. Energy flowed from her in a constant, desperate pulse, euphoria and ache rolled up in to one heady rush.

  “Eryx?” One word that conveyed so much. The edge of agony in her voice was gone. Replaced with confusion, hunger, and desperation.

  “It’s your energy.” He stifled a groan and eased back. He shouldn’t take advantage. Wouldn’t take advantage.

  She ripped her hands out from under his and a gust of wind and translucent sparks shot through the air. Her fingers bit into his flanks and yanked him close. “More.”

  Her energy cranked through him. He licked her lower lip. A trace of honeyed balm teased him. Taunting. “Be sure,” he whispered against her mouth. “Be very sure.”

  She answered with hands fisted at his scalp and a quick nip. “Now.” Her hips punctuated the demand. “More.”

  The two words triggered something. Freed an animalistic part of him he’d se
nsed, but dared not release. It shoved his conscience and reason aside to better study its prey—firm, sinuous flesh covered only by the thin stretch of a white cotton sheath, the dusky and hardened outline of her nipples straining against the fabric.

  He gripped the neck of the gown, guided by the beast—and ripped.

  * * * *

  Cool air assailed Lexi. Her nipples hardened, heedless of the panic in her head.

  Above her, Eryx tilted his head. Too shrewd. Too watchful.

  She swallowed around the tightness in her throat and clung to his shoulders, his muscles a welcome anchor. She could do this. The past didn’t define her. She defined her. Her choices. Nothing else. “Don’t stop.” She flexed her hips, a silent encouragement, the silk of his pants a frustrating barrier for the erection sliding against her bare skin.

  Eryx shifted toward his heels. Not so far she lost connection at his shoulders, but enough to lose the steady stroke of his cock between her legs. His palms skated along her upper thighs, spread wide atop his. His scrutiny wriggled beneath her skin, prodding for answers without uttering a single question.

  No way was she going there. Not now. Not for a good long while. Distraction was better. And the sweet promise of his shaft buried deep.

  She reached for the silk at his hips.

  He batted the hand away and shook his head in a slow predatory glide. “Share your secrets when you’re ready, but never hide from me. Not in this.”

  She nose-dived into dumbfounded and her heart leapt into her throat. “Eryx, I—”

  “Don’t care.” He crept forward, hands at either side of her head, his dark hair falling around them. “We talked about this. You need to say no, say it. You want me, then say that too. But no evasion. No lies.”

  She nodded, his heat and the solemnity of his words too powerful to do more. He was right. The least she could do was suck it up and spill what she could handle of the truth. “You scared me.”

  His chin dipped in barely perceptible acknowledgement, but his eyes stayed locked to hers.