Dark Pact: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (Her Dark Guardians Book 1)

by Alana Serra

  His gaze settled on Karak and he felt a tug of satisfaction as the half-orc’s gruff features betrayed his interest. He didn’t ask for the information directly, but Tanris could guess it was only a matter of time before he made his impatience known. Reaching into his saddlebags once more, he pulled out a signed, authorized slip of paper, but kept it on his side of the table for now.

  “The man who attacked your clan? His name is Venrik. He has a bit of a reputation in the guild. They call him the Butcher, and for good reason. Some say he indulges in… well, best not to make mention of that,” he said dismissively.

  The green of Karak’s skin turned a more sickly shade before taking on a red hue, his amber eyes blazing. “I certainly wouldn’t.”

  “Someone likely tipped him off. He hopped the first ship to Cital.”

  The half-orc swore, and Rhia’s brow arched as she looked at him. “Is that far?”

  “Far and nigh unreachable,” Wesley said, frowning. “You need special papers to even book passage. It’s locked down to all but the wealthiest merchants and artisans.”

  “Or those with the ability to steal from the wealthiest merchants and artisans,” Tanris said, handing over the paper without ceremony.

  Karak took it, looking it over before he turned his surprised gaze to the rogue. “This would get me there?”

  “I doubt it will get you there specifically, but one of your human companions? Absolutely.”

  He nodded, his fingers moving almost reverently over the seal. “It’s a start. Thank you.”

  “As soon as we can spare the trip, we’ll help you track him down, Karak,” Rhia promised, her voice soft and soothing.

  The brutish man seemed to melt under that attention, and Tanris could understand why. If she was inclined to speak to him that way, he might melt, as well. Alas, he had other matters to take care of and couldn’t be curled up at the Dark Lady’s feet when Ebonhold was sieged.

  “Now we come to you,” he said, nodding at Liam. “Your Knight-Commander keeps better hold of her papers than most, I must say. But she may soon find herself in absence of something more valuable.”

  He produced an iron key seemingly from nowhere, and the oathbreaker surprised him by nearly lunging for it. Tanris pulled the item away, and Liam’s momentum had him nearly toppling over the chair. His hand clutched for the table, and he was brought face to face with Tanris for a moment that was far too brief.

  Still the rogue grinned like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. “How very savage you are. Didn’t those paladins teach you manners?”

  “Give me that key,” he growled.

  “Liam,” Rhia scolded him, something which caused Tanris no end of amusement.

  Naturally, he seemed immune to her commanding tone. Perhaps he wasn’t always, but right now, Tanris could see there was nothing that would sway his interest from the key.

  “I’m curious, Liam. What is it that you want with the Knight-Commander? Do you intend to blackmail her? Usurp her position and take your place as leader of the Holy Blade?”

  Liam scoffed, his gaze hardening. “The Holy Blade can hang for all I care. Now give me that key, thief.”

  “What will you give me for it?” he asked, pursing his lips.

  “You didn’t make anyone else pay upfront for what you’ve given so far,” Rhia protested, wisely realizing that just because he hadn’t done it yet, didn’t mean he had no plans to do so.

  “The information I gathered for you and Karak wasn’t that difficult to obtain. A few greased palms, a bit of surveillance. This, however…” He turned the key in his fingers, the light glinting off of it.

  “Name your price,” Liam said through clenched teeth.

  Tanris arched a brow, meeting the oathbreaker’s challenging gaze with one of his own. When Liam didn’t look away, he smiled. “A favor, to be called in at a later time. One that won’t be… insignificant, shall we say, but won’t put your life in danger, or that of your companions.”

  “Liam, you—”

  “Deal,” he said, cutting Rhia off and reaching out to snatch the key from Tanris’ hand.

  He might have thought Liam was a thief of some renown himself for how quickly he was able to pocket the key, making it disappear before everyone’s eyes. Of course Tanris understood why he would want to. One didn’t target the Knight-Commander of a holy order without having some skeletons in their closet.

  “You know, I shouldn’t take you at your word, considering,” Tanris mused. “But I’m feeling generous. Generous, and exhausted. Would you mind if I stayed at your lovely keep overnight?”

  “Are you toying with me?” came Wesley’s predictable question before Rhia could answer his request.

  He lazily turned his attention toward the warlock, finding piercing blue eyes fixed on him. The man looked as though he was imagining casting out dark tendrils of energy, wrapping them around Tanris’ neck, and squeezing until he choked. Something that Tanris’ cock shouldn’t respond to, but alas.

  “Hm?”

  “I sent you to find information, as well. Important information that I need. You’ve given everyone else what they’ve asked for, yet you withhold my request from me.”

  “Don’t play games, Tanris,” Rhia said, her tone almost protective. Interesting. “If you have something to share, share it.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t.” He waited a beat, observing the expected response. “What? It’s really as simple as that. The information I gathered isn’t worth sharing yet.” His lips twitched. “Not to worry. I’ll be making an extra special trip just for you.”

  He would, and sooner than Wesley realized. The crestfallen look on the warlock’s features very nearly made Tanris give up the game, but the man would thank him later. This wasn’t information that needed to be shared in polite company. He hadn’t lied, per se.

  “Before I do that, though, I really need to rest. Are we saying yes to the room, my lady?” he turned his brown eyes on Rhia and batted his long lashes.

  Rhia sighed, running a hand over her mouth. “Yes. Of course you can stay until you’re rested enough to travel. But I expect you to find the information you promised Wesley before we strike any kind of accord.”

  “Of course,” he said, rising to his feet and giving an exaggerated bow. “As soon as I’m rested, it will be done. For now, if you wouldn’t mind showing me to my room?” His eyes glinted in the torchlight. “I’d ask you to join me, but I’m a bit too tired to perform adequately. You understand.”

  Her cheeks flamed, and three pairs of eyes burned a hole straight through Tanris. Possessive all, it seemed. As amusing as it was to taunt them and try to rile them all up, Tanris knew very well he’d have a visitor tonight.

  It just wouldn’t be Rhia.

  Chapter 23

  Some part of Wesley knew he was playing into the rogue’s game. Those meaningful looks, the careful way he’d chosen his words, he was positive there was more to this than Tanris let on. And like a cat toying with a mouse, he’d drawn out the process as much as possible, blocking off all other avenues so Wesley had little choice but to scurry past his waiting claws to get to the cheese.

  At this point, though, he’d take the hit to his pride. Tanris knew something about Emma. He had to. And Wesley would pay any price to find out; to ensure she was safe and somewhere no one could ever hurt her again. If that meant begging, humbling himself before the crass rogue, then he would do it. If it meant sinking to his knees and offering… favors as payment, he would do that, as well.

  A flush stole through Wesley’s body as he considered it. He’d tried to ignore the hungry looks Tanris gave him and the way those glances made him feel, just as he’d tried to ignore the reaction he had to Liam. It’d always been a part of him, and a part he’d even indulged in at the academy. But there were certain boundaries that didn’t need to be crossed here. He was to serve Rhia, first and foremost. If there was to be something between them, he didn’t want to give in to his base desires.

&
nbsp; Even if he’d already imagined Karak joining them. And Liam. And Tanris.

  Should the rogue require that of him, though, he wasn’t going to fight it. He’d enjoy it. He knew he would, and he wasn’t ashamed by that fact. Whatever it took, he would do for Emma’s sake. Any enjoyment he got out of it was secondary.

  So secondary that he forced it out of his mind as he crept down the hall, keeping the shadows pulled around him to dampen his steps. Rhia and the other guardians were asleep, with Karak’s clan now serving as guards to keep watch. It was easy enough for him to walk down the hall to the guest wing where Tanris was staying. Easy to slide a tendril of dark energy into the keyhole, wrapping around to unstick the lock. He stepped into the room under cover of darkness and searched, expecting the rogue might be waiting for him, that same smirk on his lips.

  But he wasn’t lounging on the couch, nor did he have his boots propped up on the table. He wasn’t on the bed, either. It looked as if he’d never been, the bedding untouched. The hairs on the back of Wesley’s neck stood on end, his instinct alerting him to danger, but it was too late.

  He whirled to find Tanris right there, so close their bodies were nearly touching. A wry smile pulled at his lips and this close, Wesley caught the scent of leather and clove oil. His heart pounded, expecting to find a dagger leveled at his throat or perhaps stabbed into his kidney, but Tanris presented neither option.

  “You’re surprisingly sneaky,” he noted, his voice as smooth as warmed honey. “Have you considered a career in thievery?”

  “You wanted my attention,” Wesley said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “You’ve got it. Now what did you find out?”

  Tanris tsked, his lips parted just so, giving Wesley a glimpse of his curled tongue. “So abrupt! Don’t tell me you have no appreciation for foreplay.”

  “Not when it comes to this,” he said carefully.

  Tanris stepped past him and Wesley allowed himself to breathe again, trying to calm the rapid pounding of his heart. The rogue knew exactly what he was doing, and he took his time walking over to the bed, making a show of going through his pack. He retrieved a bottle and two earthenware cups, bringing the lot to the table.

  “Share a drink with me, and I’ll tell you,” he said, starting to pour.

  Wesley kept his eyes on the rogue at all times, looking for any sleight of hand that might occur. But the sense that typically protected him from danger—one of Aeredus’ measures, he assumed—didn’t alert him to anything strange. He took the cup he was offered, sniffed it, then tasted. A fairly expensive wine, judging from the flavor. Strawberry, perhaps. Not common to this area.

  “Sit!” Tanris beckoned, taking a seat at the small table, his legs held in a relaxed pose that would have been rather lewd had he not been wearing trousers.

  Wesley did sit, though there was still a tension in his body. He would do what needed to be done, but he didn’t plan to let himself become trapped here. Or tricked. “What do you want for it?”

  “For what? The pleasure of your company? That is its own reward, don’t you think?”

  His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching as he ground his teeth together. He could endure the flirtatious remarks, the thinly veiled innuendo, but he wasn’t about to waste time with this particular game.

  “You know what I mean, Tanris. What do you want for the information on Emma?”

  “I was hoping for a thank you, to start. You were so eager to hear it in front of your lady and the others, yet I wonder if that’s something you truly want.”

  “She knows the truth of it,” Wesley said, his gaze casting down to the wine. He lifted it to his lips and took a more generous sip. “But I do appreciate the discretion. I… wasn’t thinking.”

  “Discretion is my middle name, of course,” Tanris said, his fingers tapping soundlessly along his own cup. “Now, the information you requested. I’m afraid it isn’t good news.”

  Wesley’s breath hitched and he stared at Tanris, waiting. To his credit, the rogue sat a bit straighter and appeared to give the matter the attention it deserved.

  “It seems she’s been implicated in Lord Tremont’s murder.”

  “What?!” That single word was said louder than anything else Wesley had uttered, his disbelief palpable. “That’s impossible. I made sure the blame wouldn’t fall on her.”

  “Well, something spooked the authorities,” Tanris reflected, swishing his wine in his cup. “Either that or—more likely—someone paid them to look her way. Did Lord Tremont keep other wards?”

  “No, but his wife was never fond of Emma,” he said bitterly.

  “A more direct answer than I would have guessed, but it makes sense. She had the chance to punish the young woman her husband lusted after, so she took it. I’ve seen it a thou—”

  “She wasn’t ‘the young woman’ Lord Tremont lusted after,” Wesley said, a growl tearing from him. “She was practically his slave, taken from her home and forced to do whatever he bade lest his men kill our father.”

  Tanris’ brows lifted just so. “No mention of that when I went searching, though I can see why.”

  “Where is she now? Are they holding her somewhere? Surely they’re going to have a trial.”

  Wesley couldn’t think straight, every notion colliding with the next. He never imagined they could pin the murder on Emma. She wasn’t a sorceress. She didn’t even have the latent talent for it. But of course the wealthy didn’t need facts on their side to accuse those who were less privileged. Just noting that Emma’s brother had studied at the academy would be enough—along with a sizable donation—to turn the heads of the guards. They’d have a harder time forcing it through to execution on that “evidence” alone, but he had no doubt Lady Tremont could expedite the process were she feeling especially spiteful.

  I should have killed her, too.

  It was a thought that chilled him to the core, yet he didn’t regret it. What he regretted was leaving any loose ends. He should have known better. He’d condemned himself in that moment. Honestly, he’d condemned himself the moment he’d taken up with Aeredus. There was no reason to proceed in half-measures.

  “She’s being held for trial by the local paladin order, the Guardians of the Rose. Lady Tremont will testify, of course, and I’m sure grease a number of palms behind the scenes.”

  “If she hasn’t already,” Wesley murmured. “When’s the trial being held?”

  “At week’s end.”

  Tanris gave him a knowing look, not bothering to question Wesley when he suddenly drained his cup and stood. “Whatever you want in exchange for this information, I’ll—”

  “I know you will,” the rogue said.

  But where Wesley might have expected a teasing grin or an innuendo-laden taunt, he received a rather solemn look that caught him off guard. Tanris studied him in the flickering candlelight, and he regarded the man in turn. There was something in his eyes that for just a moment spoke of more than this superficial impression of a person he pretended to be. A pain there that Wesley felt on a visceral level, knowing instantly it was much like his own.

  “What would you like me to tell her?” Tanris asked, that mask firmly in place once more. “When she finds you gone, she’ll look to me for answers.”

  He nearly gaped at the man, trying to recover despite the knowledge that Tanris could read him far better than he liked. Was he that obvious, or was the rogue merely gifted with so much insight? He couldn’t tell, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. He needed to pack and get ready to leave. He’d have to ride through the night to put enough distance between himself and Rhia.

  Because while he knew she would help him if he asked, he wasn’t willing to put her in that kind of danger. Not for something he’d done before even meeting her. It was his mess to clean up, his sister to save, and he would handle it on his own. Tie up some of those loose ends, even if it meant he never returned from Platsia.

  “Tell her I’m sorry,” Wesley said before turning toward the do
or.

  Tanris made no move to stop him, and so he returned to his room, packed his things, and prepared to leave Ebonhold with no hope of ever returning.

  Chapter 24

  Rhia stared up at the vaulted ceiling in her chambers, wrestling with her own emotions.

  Something wasn’t right. She’d been restless all night, unsettled by something she couldn’t name. The only answer she could come up with was that it was something to do with Wesley. He’d been so distraught when Tanris had nothing for him, and understandably so. Every day that passed without word of his sister must be torture for him.

  It’d been torture for her, not knowing what’d become of Desmond. She almost preferred it that way now, but at least she had an answer. Wesley wasn’t given the same kind of closure, and she knew it must be eating away at him.

  But they hadn’t had a chance to speak much since their time together. He’d kept his distance, focusing on his research, and she’d made certain Ebonhold was fit to house those who’d come to live and work there. There was an awkwardness that existed and she wondered if it was because of Karak.

  Of course Wesley would have been embarrassed by the half-orc’s voyeurism. Perhaps he thought he had competition, in which case… he was right, in a sense. She needed to tell him that she’d kissed Karak, needed him to understand that she didn’t regret it, nor did she regret what she’d done with him. But it always seemed like the wrong time. Maybe it was always going to seem like the wrong time. Maybe she needed to suck it up and make time if she truly wanted to set things on a path toward… what, exactly?

  Her past sexual experiences—if they could even be called that—were not of her choosing. Men had thought themselves entitled to her body, touching her in ways she’d never consented to. She’d never fully given herself over to another person. She’d wanted to with Desmond, but Wesley was the first one who’d brought her to climax. The first time she’d come without the assistance of her own hand.