Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  A slender woman around her age entered the room, carrying a tray. Her ivory features a striking contrast to her braided, plum-toned hair. She studied Saia with curious, light aqua-blue eyes. “Good morn. I’m Ikaria. Lord Réomer sent me to aid you.”

  Saia eyed the girl—demoness—warily. Her friendly smile eased Saia some. But darn, Ikaria was beautiful.

  “Where is he?” Saia asked.

  “He’s gone to the training fields. He did come back during the night, but you were asleep. He left you a missive.” She nodded to the bureau opposite the bed. “I brought you a meal.”

  Saia watched as Ikaria crossed to the archway near the bureau and set the tray on a low table in the sitting area. “Is there anything I can do for you, ma’ori?”

  Ma’ori?

  She must have spoken aloud, because Ikaria answered as she returned to the bedroom, smoothing her hands over her skirt. “It means, ‘mate of my lord.’”

  Oh. “Please, call me Saia.” She got off the bed and headed for the door. “I need to get out of here for a while.”

  “Ma—Saia, you cannot!”

  At her urgency, Saia spun around. “Why not?”

  “Until the mating has taken place, you would not be safe out there. Our males will be drawn to you, and will fight for you again. But this level is secure, it belongs to Lord Réomer. No harm will come to you here.”

  This place and its people, with their violent ways, really scared her. Taking a deep breath, Saia changed direction and walked over to the table. The aroma of freshly baked bread teased her nose, and her belly cramped in hunger. She realized she hadn’t eaten since the party. And when she’d run from that ugly altercation back home a lifetime ago, food had been the last thing on her mind.

  At the thought of her mother, the hollowness in her stomach returned. Unable to deal with that hurt, she shoved it into her never-to-open-again box and slammed the lid shut.

  Saia examined the tray. At the recognizable setting, she breathed a sigh of relief. It held a teapot along with a plate of sandwiches with some kind of meat filling. She selected a plain slice of bread and took a small bite. A nutty flavor filled her mouth.

  “I don’t understand,” she said as she ate. “Riley—I mean Réomer already announced our mating.”

  “Aye, he did.” Ikaria followed her to the sitting area. “But you are not yet physically claimed. As demons, we are born with dark souls. However, it’s our males—especially those in the armies since they live on the edge and with violence—that are affected more. They find it difficult to resist the temptation of a human soul, and will always be drawn to that light.”

  Dark souls? Riley was born with a dark soul? Her knees caved, her butt hit the chair behind her. “What are you saying?”

  “You are concerned. Do not be.” Ikaria smiled like that would reassure her. “Lord Réomer has lived on the mortal realm for a long time. He would have found a way to remain immune to the temptation. We are not all evil as humans think us,” she said quietly. “Those who mate with mortals leave this realm to live on the human one. It is what many of the soldiers here would want, but they are bound in service to Wrath and cannot. So until the bonding is completed and you carry my lord Réomer’s mark, you must remain here. Or this place will run with blood should anyone touch you.”

  Saia realized she should be worrying about the brutal lifestyle of this place; instead, one question snagged at her mind and pounded in her brain. “What do you mean, Ri-Réomer would have found a way to remain immune to temptation?”

  “It is said during times of intimacy, the light in the souls of humans eases the darkness.”

  Saia’s mouth tightened. That’s why Riley preferred casual relationships. Hurt unfurled inside her. Even for that, she wasn’t good enough for him.

  Riley swiped a hand across his brow. Sweat dripped down his face, his bare chest gritty with dust and blood. The heat scorched him, draining him dry. No damn sun here, yet it was like fighting in the desert under its killer heat.

  Last night, he’d gone to Saia, but she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep. After her brutal introduction into his world, he’d realized sleep was probably the only peace she’d find while trapped in this hellish life of his.

  A hiss sounded in the air, and he leaped back. A blade winged too close and damn near sliced off half his face. His hair rained over him. Too tired to curse, he summoned whatever strength he had left and slammed his opponent to the ground.

  The remaining soldiers lifted their weapons in truce and stumbled away.

  Riley tossed his sword to one of the young recruits on the side and staggered toward a stone dwelling at the foot of the mountain. His muscles burned as if he was on fire, his blood felt like lava.

  Shadows enfolded him the moment he entered the gloomy building. The soothing sound of water continuously filling the long stone trough echoed in the quiet place and eased his irritation some. A few soldiers sat in a corner, taking a breather.

  He removed his remaining earring and tossed it away, having had the other ripped out during the hand-to-hand combat. Exhausted, he inhaled a harsh breath and ran his hands under the flowing water then dunked his head in the outlet. Raking back his dripping hair, he cursed when he felt the shorn side.

  “I can even that out for you if you wish, my lord.”

  At the droll tone, he glanced over his shoulder back at the soldier sitting in the dark corner, nursing a wound on his midriff.

  “Gaelin.”

  The demon rose and sauntered closer, his blond hair cut to within an inch of its life.

  “So you’re finally here?”

  Riley straightened from the trough, water dripping down his chest. “Not by choice.”

  “I’m sure. But whatever, it’s good.” He studied Riley’s shoulders and chest with a clinical expression, then nodded. “Two days here, and already you grow stronger in this clime. That fight with Móric…hated the asshole. But for a moment there, I thought you were a goner. Though true to your heritage, you turned around fast.”

  Like he needed the reminder.

  “Get this mess sorted out, would you?” Bone deep exhaustion sawed through Riley as he sat on a stone block and braced his elbows on his thighs. The air displaced slightly. At a buzzing sound, he cocked an eyebrow at the barber’s machine Gaelin had willed to him. He’d expected a blade or dagger.

  “Really?”

  The demon grinned and ran a hand through his own shorn locks. “Got it from one of my visits up there. Good thing I can power-boost it.”

  He ran the whizzing machine over Riley’s head. A few minutes later, he stepped back. “There. Evened out.”

  Riley dusted the hair off him, but that didn’t work since most stuck to his sweaty skin. He rose and made for the trough again.

  “Réomer?”

  Something about his friend’s tone had him pausing in the process of dunking his head. He turned. Gaelin, who always had a smirk even in the shittiest of times, scratched his neck, looking uneasy.

  Riley narrowed his eyes. “Spill, Gael.”

  Gaelin glanced around the low-roof building, waited as the soldiers straggled back out to the training fields. In the dense silence, he lowered his voice. “Your foster parents did not die because of the wars. They were targeted.”

  Riley stilled. “By whom?”

  Gaelin’s mouth thinned. “Ayperos.”

  As if someone had thrust a spear into his chest, Riley shook his head in denial, staring at his friend in disbelief. “Why would he do that?”

  “Why do you think?”

  Ayperos had everything. Wrath had personally chosen him, groomed him to be one of the most feared warriors, and for one reason only—to be his heir if Riley failed the test of transference. Ayperos had gotten what he wanted. Why kill the innocent? The couple had been nothing but kind, a threat to no one.

  Hell, Wrath had Riley shipped off to the human realm soon after his foster parents had died. A place where Baric had suddenly appeared a
nd tried to kill him as a deserter of his species before he’d even taken a breath of the clean human air…

  A message from an old friend!

  Shit, of course.

  Baric had no reason to care why Riley had gone to the human realm when so many demons had already done so. The pieces slotted into place. Baric had been Ayperos’s minion—the taunts, the names only those in the citadel could have known.

  All this time, it was right there in front of him, but hating his sire had blinded him to the truth.

  Ayperos’s occasional visits to Sheol took on a sinister significance. He’d been looking for a chance to end Riley. Doubtless, he thought Riley would be asleep when he’d set his foster parents’ cottage alight.

  He’d been so fucking blind.

  “Must have shocked the asshole when he realized you weren’t home that night,” Gaelin spat. “Good thing I came by and took you out for some carousing in town. Ayperos’s fury when he saw you on our return makes sense now. It wasn’t because of the atrocities committed against your foster parents, but that he’d failed.”

  Riley didn’t speak as unmitigated anger swept through him. It took every restraint he possessed not to go after the fucker right then because it would leave Saia alone and vulnerable.

  By the dark gods, Ayperos would pay before he killed him.

  “Does Wrath know about him? The death of my foster parents?” Why he asked, Riley had no idea. But it infuriated him that his sire couldn’t see past Ayperos’s hulk of muscles to the avarice that had clearly eaten through any lucid brains his foster brother had ever possessed.

  Gaelin shrugged. “Hard to say. Ayperos said your allotted caregivers had died in the ongoing clan feuds, and that in fear, you’d defected to the mortal realm. Besides, he is Wrath’s most trusted warrior. None would dare point a finger at him.”

  So the bastard didn’t show his true self. Riley glanced at his fight-bruised knuckles. “Where is he?”

  “Réomer, do not think of taking him on yourself. He’s grown far too powerful.”

  While he was the weakling his father had tried to get rid of?

  He pinned his friend a cold stare. “Where. Is. He?”

  An order.

  Gaelin dropped his gaze to his hair-cutting machine. “He isn’t here. He left on some mission months ago. Didn’t return.” Hazel eyes met his. “He could be anywhere. After all, he knows you’d never step foot in this place. He made sure of that.”

  “I’ll handle him.” A deadly promise. Gut deep, Riley knew Ayperos was on the human realm, no doubt planning to finish the job Baric had failed to carry out.

  Voices sounded, more soldiers staggered into the building.

  “Right, I’m off rotation and out of here,” Gaelin said.

  “Wait.” Riley ran a hand over his buzzed hair, wondered if he was bald. “I need you to inform Zac that I’m detained and to keep an eye on the bar. Then take a message to Liz. Tell her I’m with Saia, and we’ve gone off for a few days. She’ll know what to do.”

  Gaelin tapped his clipper on his pants leg and considered. “Will she slap me down again?”

  “Stop toying with her and you’ll live.”

  Grinning, Gaelin stalked toward the door. “I live for dangerous females.”

  Dumbass. He had no idea Liz would stake him to a cross and calmly do her nails while watching him burn.

  Riley headed for the exit. A young male rushing inside collided with him. The lad stumbled back, gasping. “My lord…your mate…she’s in trouble.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Saia prowled around the bedroom and ended in the living room. Her restlessness grew like ants crawling beneath her skin.

  She needed to run, the only way she knew how to exorcise all these emotions barreling through her. Swiping her damp hands on the hips of the gray cargo pants Ikaria had loaned her, she stopped at the vaulted window. Rolling her shoulders at the tension spiking there, she glared at the distant volcano spewing out its fiery temper. Fitting. It matched hers.

  “You haven’t touched your meal,” Ikaria said, sounding a little worried.

  “Not hungry.”

  How could she eat when Riley had left her here alone for so long?

  Sure, she read the brief message he’d sent her, stating he’d be back soon. Whatever the heck that meant. Ikaria had insisted he was still on the training fields. No one fought for two straight days—she’d seen how exhausted he was after he’d taken on those demons at the mountains and then Móric.

  Was it another woman? Her heart rebelled at the thought.

  Ugh, she had to stop thinking about that.

  “I need some air.” She marched for the door and stepped out into the dimly lit passage. Ikaria followed. A young, dark-haired Stygian guard fell in line behind her like a shadow as she prowled the corridor.

  Great. More unwanted company. She got that she needed a guard for her protection, but still…

  How did she ever think her mother suffocating? Here, she couldn’t even leave her room without a busload of people trailing her. At thoughts of her mother, her chest hurt like someone was squeezing her lungs. She probably thought Saia’d run off back to Liz’s after their fight.

  With Ikaria flanking her, Saia roamed several passages, and with each step she took, her tension hiked. The walls were closing in on her, ramming home the fact that there really was nowhere to go. She stumbled to a halt. Oh, God.

  “Are you all right, Saia?” Ikaria asked softly, concern darkening her aqua eyes.

  No, she wasn’t all right. She was trapped in this dark world, about to be mated to a man who didn’t want her. The pit in her stomach grew.

  And like every unhappy occurrence in her life, she straightened her spine, plastered on a smile, nodded, and took in her surroundings.

  Grayscale walls, black doors, and looming shadows meandered down the long corridors. Though this place reminded her a lot of a medieval castle, though no weapons adorned these walls.

  She opened a tall, dome-shaped door at the end of the hallway, revealing a narrow stairwell with spiraling stairs, and made her way down. Ignoring the few doors she passed, she stopped to peer through the tapered windows at the darkening purple skies and the barrenness of the lands beyond the great walls surrounding the fortress.

  A gleaming light slanted through an open door and into the darkened stairwell. Saia would have ignored it, she just wanted to walk the stairs, but the enormous brutal paintings on the walls snagged her attention and had her entering the corridor to study them. Most were bloody and violent depictions of wars, of demons battling horrific scaly monsters, and demons against angels. She finally stopped in front of a painting of a manacled angel whose wings were being ripped off, a sea of blood surrounding him. And shuddered.

  “Who does these?” she asked, her stomach churning.

  The guard remained silent. Ikaria shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

  Saia glanced around her and realized this floor appeared busier than the other levels with demons swiftly moving about.

  Some gave her a quick once over and continued on. No doubt they’d witnessed the fight in the great hall when Riley had killed that big demon.

  “Where are we?” Saia asked Ikaria.

  “Two floors below yours.”

  Darn. She hadn’t meant to stray so far away from the safety of Riley’s quarters.

  “Let’s go back—” Saia broke off. Heavy footfalls reverberated through the corridor. Several demons rounded the far end of the long hallway. Their hair hung like limp rats’ tails, their sullen almost skeletal faces were streaked with grime and sweat, and their broken chainmail rattled in dissonance. Their eyes appeared like black holes.

  “Go. Take her back,” the guard ordered. “Use the back passages.”

  Ikaria grasped her hand and yanked her into an unlit path nearby then took off in a fast trot.

  “Who are they?” Saia panted, running to keep up with Ikaria’s impossible speed. Her shoulder hit the rough w
alls of the narrow corridor. Pain darted down her arm.

  “Mercenaries. They must have just come in from the outlands after spending months there. We cannot be in their sight.” Her tight voice echoed eerily as they ran.

  They will want women, Saia heard the unspoken words. Her heart whomping in her chest, she glanced over her shoulder. All was too dark, too silent. “Where’s the guard?”

  “He’ll protect the entrance of this passage, then will follow us. I would have flashed us to your chambers if I could, but inside the fortress, Wrath’s protection spell makes it impossible. And if somehow you break the incantation, it means instant death.”

  The snaking path took them deeper into the castle. Saia couldn’t hear a thing beyond her heart hammering in her ears. Minutes later, the gloom gave way, and at the far end of the passage, soft lights glowed. Ikaria slowed down and stepped into a wide, dead-end corridor. Numerous torches affixed to the stone walls lit the silent space.

  Panting hard, her lungs burning from their fast dash, Saia stopped beside Ikaria.

  “There,” Saia said, pointing to a familiar dome-shaped door that would lead to the stairwell. She darted across.

  “Saia—wait!” Ikaria yelled.

  But she’d already shoved the ebony door open and stepped into a softly lit den. Frowning, she glanced around the incense-drenched place.

  What the heck? Where were the stairs?

  Low strains of soft, eerily sensual music drifted to her. It flowed through her mind and stroked her senses. As Saia’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, her jaw hit the floor.

  “Oh, Hades,” Ikaria muttered from beside her.

  Oh, dear Lord! Saia pressed an unsteady hand to her stomach.

  It wasn’t the fiery-toned drapes cascading from the ceiling and barely concealing the intimate alcoves that grabbed her attention, but rather a sea of gleaming, undulating, naked bodies. Moans and grunts drifted to her.

  Couples on the beds was engaged in various sexual acts while some males sprawled on chairs had females straddling them.

  A demoness was tied against a pillar, her legs spread, and a male had his mouth between her thighs.