“It means,” Kane struggled to his knees, sucking in several sharp breaths, “the Ascendency thinks that humans are chattel. Slaves. Fae use them until they die or worse, then they move onto the next.”
I snaked my hand back into Asher’s; I needed him to steady me. “What’s worse than death?”
The ginger man left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Joy-Again cocked her head in the direction of his departure. “Donovan can tell you. He watched it happen to his purchased bride—which why, Asher, you shouldn’t be involved with this one.”
“Enough, Joy-Again, we all get the point.” Bastien held his hand up and motioned for me to sit at the table. Asher held me in place; the other man smirked. He sat down anyway. “Understand, Wren. We’re not all monsters and bullies like Kane. We were once a fairly civilized world, up until your Earth decided to tear itself apart. Now imagine a room with ten cats, but only one mouse. It’s a fight, yes?”
“So, instead of murdering people and taking their energy, now you feel the need to kidnap, rape, torture, and then murder people for their energy.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yes, that certainly sounds civilized to me.”
Kane spit on the floor. “You don’t have any room to talk, girl, because you’re part of the problem.”
“Are you absolutely sure you’re not a human politician? Because placing blame on the victim is a very human-like attribute.” I turned away from him and back to Bastien. “So, you think the Ascendency is wrong.”
“I’m saying the Ascendency has conveniently turned a blind eye to what’s actually going on in Serata. Let me ask you this: were you bought at auction? Sold to the highest bidder?”
I nodded.
“And you were given to Asher as a gift. A person, given to another person. And, why exactly?” He cocked his eyebrow up. “So you could serve him.”
“It isn’t like that.”
“But it’s supposed to be like that—it’s law, in the Ascendency’s eyes. They see your marriage contract as a bond of submission. Because, I’m sure that’s how it worked, am I right? Marriage?”
“Bastien, I didn’t come here to argue. I’m not asking you to evaluate if what my parents did was right or wrong; that’s not the point.” Asher stepped in front of me and braced his hands against the table, leaning over and narrowing his eyes. “I want to stop them from what they’re about to do.”
“Because of her?”
“Damn right because of her.”
“Hang on.” Kane walked from the far side of the room and planted himself next to Bastien, again crossing his arms over his chest. “Aren’t you the same little pissy archduke who said that he wasn’t going to get involved with this shit? That it’s someone else’s problem? So, now that you have a witch—not just a human, but a witch—to give you her body, her very soul, you come back and decide you want to be there hero?”
Asher lunged at him; I grabbed his arm and pulled him back to me. “Stop.”
He jerked his arm upward, reaching around me with his other hand to motion at the leather bracelet around his wrist. “Do you see this? Yellow. I can see all your bracelets and don’t you fucking pretend that the lot of you aren’t registering as green. You’re getting energy when you need it—fucking hypocrites. You sit here and say you want the Ascendancy’s laws to end and then, when it’s your turn with the humans, you take your fill.”
Kane’s upper lip snarled upward, but he remained silent.
“You’re right. By law, I can do whatever I want to her—but I refuse. I saw how my father treated her, how my mother humiliated her. I made the choice to protect her because I…I…uh, saw how it hurt her. How they hurt her.”
My heart skipped out of proper cadence for a few beats, but quickly righted itself. There for a split second, I thought he was going to say he loved me.
Bastien held up his wrist. A thick, brown leather bracelet was lashed around it, the stone a pale green. “We didn’t take our credits. We have a contact, the ‘adopted daughter’ of the blacksmith in Nameless. She’s human. Poor thing is useless to him now, somehow he shattered her back and blinded her, but she’s one of us; one of the underground.”
Joy-Again held up her wrist—the stone in her silver bracelet was the same shade of green—and said, “Since the last few storms went through, it’s been almost impossible to get to Nameless. She holds our hands and sings to us…the last few times it’s been worth the risk.”
Asher didn’t respond. That was fine, because I had plenty to say. “What is this underground? You want to go against the Ascendency? The people who are already telling you that slavery is wrong and that people shouldn’t be owned?”
“That’s what they want you to think. That’s what they’ve been telling us for years, but the truth is, they don’t care what happens to the humans. As long as money is flowing, as long as they still control the distribution of energy credits through ‘reputable’ means, they won’t change anything.” Bastien exchanged a look with Asher. “Palmer has a contact in Durostu House. The Ascendency is planning to release a statement calling for public registration of all humans and witches.”
I spoke before anyone else had the opportunity. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Bastien said, “that they will require knowledge of your name, where you were purchased, what your status is, where you live, and your physical attributes. It’s under the guise of making sure there is no illegal slavery operations in Serata.”
“But you think that’s a lie.”
Kane leaned close to me. He reeked of spoiled milk and sweat. “We all do. And, up until you strutted into his life with those luscious long legs of yours, Archduke Asher thought that it was all going to be fine. That everything would just fall into place like it always did.”
Asher was around me before I could respond. He shoved Kane backwards. “I’ll gut you. Get away from her.”
“See where believing everything would turn out alright has gotten us?” Kane burst out laughing and then pulled a chair out from the table, slumping onto it. “Your brothers are dead. Your sisters were exterminated and for what? Status quo.”
I pressed my hand to Asher’s chest; he cupped his hand over mine and squeezed it. Turning to the others, I said, “What’s your plan, then? I’m assuming you have one. And before you get in your heads that I’m some kind of all powerful sorceress, you can just stop right there. I’m not.”
Bastien cocked his head to the side, as if he were contemplating me, and then said, “Rise.”
“Are you going to knight me or something?”
Asher snorted.
Bastien grinned. For the first time, I noticed he was missing two teeth on the left side of his mouth. He said, “Resist. Infiltrate. Seize. Empower.”
Asher said, “I thought it was Emancipate.”
“We voted.”
“Look, the point is,” Joy-Again slammed a rolled up piece of parchment on the table, “we have the plans to Durostu House. We’ve already tackled the resistance—the underground is alive and on the move—and we need to act. Now.”
Kane plunked his boots up on the table, snorting like a pissed off bull, and leaned back on the rear chair legs. “See, and that’s why, Joy, we didn’t let you be in charge. This is a man’s job; a man’s decision. If it were up to you women, we’d be sitting in the catacombs of Durostu House now, just rotting to pieces.”
I lifted my hand up, roughly rubbing the back of my neck, and then flicked my fingertips at him. The unseen energy wave flipped him backwards; he spilled to the ground with a thud.
Asher wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face against my head. He was laughing.
“And that’s why you’re not in charge, Kane, because you’re an asshole.” Bastien rolled his eyes and then turned back to us. “The underground is on the move. Palmer is taking care of it, he’s tracking down the witches and humans sold at auction and seeing if he can turn them to our side—against the registration. It’s a sl
ow process. But there are so many more out there on the black market: sold from owner to owner, trapped in brothels and bath houses. We can’t go against the Ascendency without them all. We need as much power—both human, fae, and witch—as we can get. Otherwise, it’s a suicide mission.”
Asher’s arms tightened around me. “And if we say no?”
“And that’s fine, too. Look, you want to stay in your broken down palace and play house with her, you do that. It’s all well and good.” Bastien stood up, planting his fists hard against the table. “But things are going to change. And when they do? A little girl who can move things with her mind can’t save you.”
I clenched my teeth together, grinding my molars until my jaw throbbed. “And if we say yes?”
“Then I can’t promise either of you will survive. But a lot of people will live; if we do this, we can change the Faction. We can save us all.”
I craned my head to the side to see Asher. I’d already lost so much since the start of this, since the world ripped apart the first time. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to lose him too.
Twenty-Nine
When we got back to the Coulthurst Mansion, Asher led me back up the hidden stairwell and to his bedroom. He sank down on his bed and opened his arms to me.
I fell into them, burying my face against his chest. God, this was so much better than crammed in the tiny cellar room. Breathing in his musky cologne, the intoxicating scent of his body, my body relaxed. I felt better.
Still panicked, but physically much more related.
“I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “I didn’t think they would launch right into their propaganda. All this talk of resisting and rising and what not, I mean, the last time, I just couldn’t deal with it. I walked out. I didn’t have a reason to care…and now, I do.”
I straightened up, resting my head against his shoulder. “Why me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the way you looked at me when you walked into our ‘wedding.’ You hated me—fuck, you said you hated me. And now you’re willing to risk your life for mine?”
He dipped his head down, nuzzling his face against mine. “Your soul is beautiful.”
I leaned my head back to look at him, but he guided me back and kissed me. He said, “You had every right to be angry when you got here. I treated you like shit, my parents acted like you were some kind of commodity. And you were sassy, yeah, but you took it in stride. Even at my worst, you stood up for me. I didn’t deserve it—I didn’t deserve you.”
He reached underneath the mattress and pulled out a slim sketchbook. Without saying anything, he slid it into my hands.
I opened the cover. The first few pages were blank, but as I flipped further into the book, I found the first sketch. It was charcoal, subtle gradients of dark and light, thick and thin strokes.
It was me.
He’d drawn me seated in front of the fireplace, my knees drawn up to my chest and staring at the flicker of flame. I could see the sadness he’d drawn in my eyes; the downcast gaze and somewhat pouty bottom lip.
Each page I turned was another sketch of me: standing by the door in the dining room, brushing my hair; one just of my face, my eyes closed and a tear trickling down my cheek. I looked at him. “These are gorgeous.”
“I don’t think they do you justice.” He smiled shyly. “You’re radiant. And the longer you were here, the longer I drew the curves of your body and your face, the more I wanted to know you. Not just your form, but your mind. Your spirit.”
I reached out and touched my fingertips to his hand, gently tracing the rise and fall of his knuckles. “And now?”
“Now I don’t want to imagine a day without you. When Da had you taken to the catacombs…I just felt rage. The thought of losing you was more than I could handle.” He looked away from me. The muscles in his jaw flexed and twitched; he swallowed hard. “And I was terrified you’d want to run away from me.”
Hitching my skirt up, I crawled into his lap and straddled my legs around his hips. I trailed my fingertip down his lips. “You are all I have in this world. And…if you want to fight for them, I swear I’ll fight for you.”
His lips spread into a smile. He murmured, “How did I get so lucky?”
“Chance?” I smiled back, reaching out and twisting one of his curls around my finger. “Maybe you said it yourself: luck.”
He shook his head. “No, it was fate.”
Slowly, almost nervously, he dropped his hand to my thigh, sliding the flimsy fabric of my skirt up my leg. He traced his fingertip across the lines of my hidden tattoo: a sparrow inked on my upper leg. His eyes widened. “I saw this…and I knew. All of this was supposed to happen; you were meant to come into my life.”
He pushed the front of his shirt up, revealing his chiseled abs and chest. Tattoos were etched across his torso and flanks, as well as a myriad of scars, but one seemed separate from the rest. It was inked close to his heart: a sparrow. It was facing the opposite direction of mine, but other than that, it was an exact match.
My jaw went slack. “They’re the same.”
“It’s like they were drawn to look for each other; to bring me to you.” His lips were parted, his lids low over his green eyes, like he was taking in every curve of my body; sensually, committing it to memory.
The pulse between my legs was throbbing. I could feel his body responding against mine, the intensity of his eyes as he looked at me. As he moved to pull his shirt back down, I caught his hand with mine. “Wait.”
He slid his hand up my outer thigh, sliding his fingers underneath my lacy white shorts. His voice was low, and raspy—it was seductive. “What?”
I skimmed my hands over his chest, tracing the curves of his muscles with my fingertips. He sucked a sharp breath in and his lids fluttered.
I let my fingers drop lower, running down his tattooed sides. “Touch me again.”
“Where?” He dipped his head forward and pressed his lips to the hollow of my throat. They were soft and warm on my flesh, but goosebumps pricked up on my arms.
I didn’t want him to stop. “Anywhere you want.”
“My hands are for touching. My mouth is for exploring.” He worked his kisses up my neck and to my lips, teasingly grazing his tongue against mine. “Which do you want more?”
“All of it.” I pressed against him, titling my hips closer to his. I could feel his cock between my legs, the tantalizing pressure of our bodies separated by nothing more than fabric. “All of you.”
He crushed his mouth to mine; the kiss was so intense, so full of desire and lust that it took my breath away.
And then my brain caught up with my body—I was wrong. It wasn’t lust; lust was everything up until that moment. This was love. Pent up passion and, at least to some extent, relief. My days and night had been filled with uncertainty. His kiss, his skin against mine, was what I wanted. What I needed.
He unfastened the front clasps on my corset and peeled it off my body, tossing it to the floor. Leaning over me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and started kissing me again; at the same time, his fingers worked the laces of my skirt. His kiss was intoxicating, his tongue lapping against mine and hungrily exploring my mouth.
I worked his shirt back up his chest; he pulled his hands off my body only long enough to yanked the tunic over his head and discard it over the side. That was just about as much time as I wanted to waste. I crawled on top of him, pressing my mouth to his and urging him back against the pillows.
He groaned softly in his throat and tugged my skirt down my hips, trying to pull the lace shorts down at the same time. There were too many layers of clothing between us; he still had on his pesky leather trousers. Damn it.
Reaching behind me, I unfastened the lace bra and slid it off my shoulders. His eyes widened. “Shit…”
“You’ve been with a woman before, right” I fumbled with the buttons on his trousers, tugging on the fabric until I could slip my fingers insi
de. He adjusted on the bed and my fingers met flesh; I pushed my hand in further and stroked his length. “I’m not your first?”
“I’ve never been with a human woman, but I assume the mechanics are the same.” He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, his hips rocking upward to meet the movement of my hands.
“Well, I’ve never been with a fae, so it’s an even playing ground. I pulled my hand out of his trousers and scooted back on the bed, wiggling free of my lace undershorts. I crooked my finger to him. “Come here.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. He crawled on top of me, his eyes briefly glancing over my body, and then crushed his mouth against mine. Our kisses were frantic, his hands hot against my bare skin. Intensity radiated down my low abdomen and between my legs. I needed him; I craved him. Every cell in my body was on fire.
I guided his hand to my inner thigh. For a moment, I sucked on his bottom lip and then murmured, “Touch me.”
He nodded and dipped his head to my throat; at the same time, his hand shifted between my legs. His fingers, first one and quickly followed by a second, slid inside me. He worked them in and out, skimming his thumb over my clit, and he worked his head down to my breasts; first kissing and licking—and when he reached my nipples, nibbling and sucking.
I whimpered; the pleasure was already building. I’d never felt anything like this. It was like my soul was alive, like everything else I’d been before that moment didn’t matter. Vaughn didn’t matter; Avi, though we’d never been intimate, was no longer a heartbreak. This what was I was supposed to be; I was supposed to be here, with him. Not as his slave or his forced bride—I needed to be his lover.
It was like he sensed it, too. He slid his fingers out of my body and worked his pants off, kicking them to the floor. Scrambling up the bed, sliding his body between my legs, he lowered his full weight on me. The tip of his cock was against me and, with the gentle forward motion of his hips, he glided inside me.
HIs eyes fluttered and his pressed his lips to mine, muffling his moan of pleasure against my mouth. Our rhythms matched completely; each thrust of his body in mine brought me closer to climax. I arched my back to meet him—to get as close as I could. I didn’t want this to stop, I didn’t want the pleasure to end.
Claimed: Faction 3: The Isa Fae Collection Page 26
