Crimson Kisses: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Marked Souls Book 1)

by Sabrina Shelley

  I refuse to feel bad about what happened last night with Drew. It felt good. It even…it felt right.

  But I feel bad for dragging Xander into it. Training with him is hard and often unforgiving, but what I feel for Drew…I’ve been starting to feel for Xander too. It’s a different flavor, maybe, but the same feel. The fact that he feels like I’ve used him—and the fact that I’ve thoroughly fucked up any chance to ever make it up to him—it hurts me. I might not trust him, but at the very least I wish I hadn’t hurt him.

  Xander is my guardian. The way Dr. Belmont tells it, that means he’s something of my soul mate—and even if he doesn’t believe it, I know that there’s something there for us.

  And guardian or not, there’s something undeniable between Drew and me. He can pretend all he wants that last night was just about passing me information, but I know the truth.

  He wanted it, and so did I.

  And now, thanks to my fuck-ups, I’ve got nothing and no one. One man who can’t be with me, another who probably doesn’t even want to anymore.

  Maybe that’s why I have five guardians instead of just one. Rory “Fuck-up” Bright, burning through romantic relationships as quickly as she can acquire them. With my fucking luck, I shouldn’t just have four empty circles on my palms—at this rate, I’m going to need eight or nine.

  “Mreow,” a feline purr calls out to me in agreement.

  I turn my head to see a pair of green eyes staring up at me, unblinking. It meows at me again with a twitch of its black tail.

  “You again?” I reach down to pat the head of the cat I saw in my cell window at Eastwatch, but it moves away just out of reach. Fucking typical. “Yeah, you and everybody else today, buddy.”

  “Mreow,” the cat meows up at me from a few feet away.

  Then—and this sounds crazy, but I swear it—the cat blinks at me, inclines its head to the west, and begins trotting down the dirt path to the fields.

  It’s like it wants me to follow it.

  And judging by how my day has been going so far…

  “This won’t end well,” I warn it, but the cat only meows up at me in something like a reassuring reply.

  I follow the cat all the way down to the low stone wall that separates the northern sector from the west. It sits on the wall for a few moments, flicking its tail, then jumps down on the western side into a field of red roses. I can see the tips of the plants twitching as the cat makes its way through the field, being pushed aside as the cat goes by.

  I don’t know what’s going to happen if I cross that wall. All I know is that I’m almost definitely not allowed. Although…Did Dr. Belmont ever distinctly tell me not to explore the grounds? I think not. Actually, Dr. Belmont hasn’t seemed to give a single flying shit about what I’m doing now that I’m out of Eastwatch and under the Regime’s thumb.

  And if there is a rule against it…

  Well, the precedence set by my escape from Eastwatch tells me that if there is a rule, breaking it will only please Dr. Belmont and the Regime all the more.

  I vault the stone fence and chase down the cat. Nothing happens, and I’m not sure that anything was ever meant to.

  They don’t want me to follow the rules here, I realize.

  They want me to break them.

  It’s only a theory, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s a theory I’m willing to ride until someone slaps me on the wrist and tells me otherwise.

  I follow the cat through the fields for what feels like hours, until we come to a little abandoned-looking wooden shack. Judging by the gardening tools inside, I wonder if it wasn’t maybe the garden shed of some long-since-dead farmer who planted roses here—before it all took over, covering the entire countryside. I have to shimmy through a missing slat in the wall to get in, but as I do it, I’m sure of it—this cat is showing me something. I’m just not exactly sure what.

  The shack isn’t big—not much bigger than my cell in Eastwatch. A few paces deep, a few paces wide. In the center of it is a dirty-looking, long un-used cellar door upon which the cat walks little circles until I grab the rusted handle—then, it jumps off so I can pull it aside.

  The cat disappears into the dark maw of the cellar almost immediately, leaving me no choice but to follow it down into the dark.

  The drop isn’t long or hard. It seems like a little bit of dirt has been tamped down just below it, so someone even my height can easily drop herself in or pull herself out. Away from the door, a tunnel deepens and widens. For a little while, the floor is mostly dirt and the tunnel is increasingly dark. But soon, I feel the floor turn to something hard and sturdy beneath my feet—wood, I think at first, then stone.

  “Mreow,” the cat says in warning, suddenly beneath my feet and unexpectedly close.

  I take another step forward and—like a complete fucking idiot—I walk directly into a door.

  “Mreow.” I can imagine the cat rolling its eyes at me—if cats can even do that—as I take a step back and open the door.

  It’s an old door, and heavy. I have to put all my weight behind it to pull it open. A thin, yellow line of light peeks through as I get it open just a crack, and the cat slips through immediately, leaving me to do the rest of the work on my own.

  When I come out the door, I’m in something that looks a lot like Eastwatch—but bigger. More foreboding. And…in a way, though I can’t really explain it, somehow scarier.

  “Mreow,” the cat calls from up ahead.

  I walk past closed door after closed door as I follow it. They look like the cell doors at Eastwatch too, though these each look like they have a sliding metal window on them, maybe for passing food through. Most of the doors sound silent. Empty—or at least, if they contain anything, whatever’s inside is being quiet. But behind some of the doors, there are noises—awful shrieks and unhinged roars.

  As I venture deeper into the hallway, the sense of foreboding getting greater and greater. It gets bad enough—and intense enough—that I’m starting to wonder what the fuck I’m even doing here anyway. I literally just broke out of prison—what the fuck do I think I’m doing breaking into one? And for that matter, what kind of crazy person takes directions from a cat?

  They want you to break the rules, I try to reassure myself. They want you to explore.

  But as the cat comes to a halt in front of one door in particular, I can’t help but feel like maybe that’s not the case after all.

  The cat paws at the door, silent now, but looking up at me expectantly.

  “What the fuck do you want me to do?!” I hiss down at it. “Knock?!”

  “Mreow,” the cat mews quietly, blinking once.

  I raise my knuckles to the door as my heart pounds in my chest. I can’t believe I’m doing this—knocking on a jail cell.

  I hesitate a moment before I do it and realize that I can’t. Not because it’s too stupid—even though, well, it is. But because if I do it, I’m fucking scared of what might answer.

  But then, I hear something—a low, dark chuckle coming from inside. Laughing at me. Like it knows the stupid shit going through my head right now. And then it’s too much—my curiosity can’t take it anymore.

  I pull the little metal window open and stare through a set of bars into the darkness behind it as it says my name.

  “Rory Bright.” Then— “Took you long enough.”

  “Who are you,” I hiss back at the dark. “Why do you know name?”

  “Me?” The darkness chuckles again and I startle as the cat leaps onto my back, climbing to a vantage point on my shoulder so it can see inside the window too. “I’m Ryker. Let me guess—Drew sends his regards.”

  10

  Rory

  Ryker.

  Images flash through my mind as the name echoes in my brain. Ryker. The scrape of teeth. Prisoner. The caress of tongue. Guardian. Drew’s fingers sliding inside my needy pussy.

  Whoa, woah, wait. What the fuck?

  The low, dark chuckle rumbles in the darkness,
and my clit throbs in response.

  What is fucking happening to me?

  “It’s okay, Rory.” The voice slides through the darkness, wrapping around me like a warm blanket, and the lingering images of Drew evaporate like mist in my mind.

  “How do you know my name?” I ask again, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

  “Who else could you be? Rogue witch wandering in parts of Aisling best left ignored? Couldn’t be anyone but my man Drew’s witch Rory Bright.”

  “I’m not his witch,” I blurt. But the weird mingled sensations of this man’s words and the memory of Drew’s touch are in stark contrast with that statement.

  The laugh that rumbled through the air sounds again. “Right, right. If you say so. But you are a witch.”

  It’s a statement, not a question. And I find the word tumbling out of my mouth before my brain has a chance to catch up.

  “Yes.”

  Well, there you have it. In spite of all my resistance to the idea, the pure absurdity of it at first, I no longer doubt what I am. I’ve already accepted it. But now I won’t hide in fear. I’m apparently ready to claim the heritage that’s mine.

  “I am a witch of the Regime.” My chin raises slightly.

  This time it’s not a mere chuckle, but pure mirth.

  “No, my dear. You are fucking not.”

  In spite of myself, I can’t help but laugh. It’s infectious. This voice in the darkness, at once ominous and intriguing, yet also comforting. I’m immediately at ease, in spite of the fact that this man saw straight through my line.

  “Okay, well, that’s the line I should be giving.”

  “And you’d do well to remember that.”

  A warning. So similar to Drew’s caution on who to trust. And who not to. I immediately like this guy. I’ve never trusted the Regime, and it seems that my instincts aren’t wrong…though Xander and Nico don’t seem to have a problem with the government and all the shit they do. And if they’re my guardians, that complicates things, more than a little.

  Nico, I don’t know enough about yet. Xander just confuses me. But I don’t want to think about him right now. I need to know who this guy is and why Drew wanted me to find him.

  “How do you know Drew?” I ask. Might as well get right to the heart of the matter, right? Drew sent me here. This guy—Ryker—was apparently waiting for me to show up.

  “We spent time together here while you were in Eastwatch.”

  I peer deeper into the darkness, trying to make sense of the shapes and shadows. This is where Drew was held until I made my bargain with Belmont?

  It smells musty, feels damp. Cold and stark. Not somewhere anyone should be, and from what I can tell, much more isolated than Eastwatch. As if they want to throw people down here and forget about them.

  The cat suddenly springs from my shoulder and disappears down the dark hallway.

  “Thanks, Fido,” Ryker calls out, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

  “Fido?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I call him.”

  I shake my head, a laugh escaping my own lips now. It’s ironic, I’m down in the bowels of some mysterious Regime prison, talking to a man I can’t even see, yet he puts me at ease.

  “Wait. So I’ve seen that cat before. He prowled around my prison cell. How did he get here?”

  “He also helped you out in the train station last week.”

  This guy is making me more and more confused by the minute. Because instinctively, I know he’s right. This is the same cat that showed me which way to go when I was trying to make it home after curfew the night I met Xander. But how is that even possible?

  “He’s been—shall we say assisting me?—in looking out for you.”

  How deep does this rabbit hole go? Ryker has been watching me, guiding me along my way all this time?

  …Through a cat?

  I clear my throat. “Um, how long have you been down here again? I think they need to let you out for walks and fresh air more often.”

  “Come on, Rory—” again a smile in his voice “—is anything that hard to believe anymore?”

  I guess not.

  “Okay, Mr. Cat Whisperer, tell me then. If Drew wanted me to find you and you’ve supposedly been looking out for me, what’s your story?”

  I hear a scrape of metal on the concrete floor, and an overwhelming presence surround me as Ryker approaches the door. I instinctively take a step back as he steps into the nearly nonexistent light. But still, it’s enough for me to make out his features.

  He’s tall. Like, insanely tall. Almost beastly. His hair is past his shoulders, dark and wild. His face is roughened and scarred, his chestnut eyes showing that he’s seen far too much in what I’m guessing to be his thirty-ish years. I should be intimidated. Scared, even. And hauling my ass back out of this dungeon-like prison before I no longer have a choice.

  But I’m not, and I don’t. Because I see something in those eyes. Something beyond the scars of the horrors I know he’s seen. Something warm and inviting and comforting. As if this man would protect me from anything. With his life.

  I have a sudden flash of images in my mind. Not of Drew this time, but of Ryker.

  His giant tree-trunk arms wrapping around me, pulling me in close to his chest, tipping my chin up with his calloused fingers, then his lips crashing into mine.

  My palm is suddenly radiating heat, and I glance down to find my mark glowing. Is this why Drew wanted me to come here? Did he know something? Is Ryker one of my guardians?

  His rumbling laughter breaks through my stream of thoughts once again, and I lift my palm higher, using the light to see his face more clearly.

  He stares back at me, his eyes locked on mine, a half-smirk on his face as he patiently lets me give him a thorough once over. I feel a pull in my belly and my heart rate kicks into double-time. He’s insanely beautiful. In a hardened, beast of a man kind of way, yes, but it’s undeniable.

  “Have a seat, Rory.” Ryker’s words break the trance, and I draw my eyebrows together.

  Then he disappears, ducking down. A second later, I hear the scrape of metal again as another window opens further down the door, a couple feet from the dingy floor, and the thump of a body hitting the ground.

  Well, okay then. I guess if I’m going to get my answers I might as well get comfortable and stay awhile. It doesn’t seem like I’ll have all the answers I need anytime soon anyway. All I seem to have these days are more and more questions.

  I drop down to my knees and peer through the window, my palms still illuminating the darkness that surrounds us. Ryker is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring right back at me with that same smirk that I wonder is a permanent fixture on his angular face. For someone most would peg as really fucking scary, he seems to be perpetually amused. He almost reminds me of a big old teddy bear. However, one that could still rip someone’s throat out in one rough swipe of claws.

  I sigh as I sit back on my heels. “Okay. Spill.”

  “What do you want to know first?”

  “Why did Drew send me here?” Yes, there are a million things I want to know—I haven’t forgotten the weird ass cat—but this is what I need to know. There’s more at play here at Aisling than I’m aware of, and Ryker might have the answers.

  “My guess would be I’m the only person in this entire fucking compound that he trusts. Apart from you.”

  Makes sense.

  “Drew told me not to trust anyone.”

  “No doubt he did. His last attempt to make sure you were taken care of is what got him arrested.” Ryker says it casually, but it hits me hard.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The night he was arrested? He was meeting your guardian to make some kind of deal. I don’t know the details. All I know is he ended up here instead.”

  Xander.

  The way Ryker says guardian, with no small amount of contempt, has me wondering what he thinks about this whole thing. Now I wonder if he do
esn’t trust me, Xander being my guardian and all.

  “I don’t know how I feel about Xander,” I blurt, then wonder why those were the words I chose.

  “He’s your guardian.” There’s that smirk again, but this time there’s more resignation than contempt. “Look, Rory, like it or not, that’s the case. And there are four more out there who have no choice but to protect you. The guardian bond…it’s strong. More powerful than just about any other bond that exists.” His eyes go vacant, as if he’s gone somewhere else momentarily, but then he focuses on me again, so quickly I wonder if I imagined it.

  “Xander has to protect you, has to do what’s in your best interest. He doesn’t have a choice.”

  I rock back at that. “No choice?”

  The words hit home in a way I don’t fucking like, not one little bit. I’ve felt like I had no choices from the moment I was first held captive in Eastwatch. Signing my life away to be a Regime witch? Also no choice.

  But it doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t believe in all that fate bullshit. I want to control my life, make choices that are actually mine.

  As if he can read my mind, Ryker says, “It was your choice, you know. To stay here.”

  “Really?” Now I rise up and lean forward, my face inches from his through the bars. “If my choice was between becoming a Regime witch and saving Drew, there was no choice.”

  Ryker shakes his head. “There’s always a choice. You just have to decide which ones to make. And none are wrong, by the way. Whatever choices you make, they’re yours, which means they’re right for you.”

  I sit back again and ponder those words. He’s right. I could have said no. I could have let them kill Drew and strip me of my powers. But then what?

  “Making this choice was the best option I had for…”

  Ryker smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “For?”

  “For finding a way out of this mess. For saving both Drew and myself. For buying enough time to figure out something else.”

  “He was right. You’re an amazing woman, Rory Bright. One who will do amazing things. If you live to see them through.” He gives me a little wink, like he has no doubt in his mind I will.