by Angel Lawson
When no one returned to release me from the room, I decided to clean up. I’d started to smell a bit ripe. The name- and emotionless slave stood in the corner, waiting for my instruction, and she jumped eagerly when I asked her for assistance in the bath. The Otherside was definitely lacking in modern technology, or parts of it. The faucet ran, but only cold water. No electricity that I could see. It didn’t make sense to me, but then again, this is a world of magic users, so maybe they don’t need it.
I peel off my suit as the girl draws the bath, filling it with warm water and powdery soap heated over the fire. She keeps her eyes averted but modesty had been lost with me over the past few months. My guardians had seen me in a variety of states of undress. They worshipped my body, built my confidence. I don’t need a servant girl’s approval of my figure. I know I’m strong. The lean muscles in my arms prove it. The tight dip of my belly is evidence of my change.
The water sloshes when I get in, spilling over the sides. The warmth soothes my aching muscles, my chilled bones.
She’s just finished washing my hair when I hear footsteps on the stone floors and the bathroom door swings open. Casteel stands in the doorway. I glance at him, pretending I’m not annoyed at his presence in a private moment. I can’t let him know I’m bothered or the slightest bit unnerved.
“Move,” he tells the girl, and her eyes cloud with fear. I nod in agreement and she moves to the edge of the room, blending in with the walls. I’m aware that I have no control over the girl. That’s the point of him being here, isn’t it? Letting me know I’m nothing but a prisoner with no freedoms or rights.
“Hello, Casteel,” I say, resting my arms on the side of the tub. There’s nothing but the cloudy film of water between us.
“The Queen asked me to check up on you.”
“Well, you can tell her I’m clean.” I take the sponge and scrub my legs. “Anything else?”
“Tomorrow there will be a ceremony to bind you back together.”
Interesting—so that gives me a timeline—less than a day to get out of here. “I won’t pretend I’m happy about that.”
“Once you realize your true powers, I think you’ll come around. What you experienced in your realm is nothing but a blip of what it’s like here.”
I have experienced my full strength, in the ring at the fights. Magic is allowed and the rush I felt from fighting Hildi that first time still tingles in my veins. Again I felt it when Xavier kissed me, and then another time when Anita stole the virus. My instincts perk at the idea of such power, especially after being dulled recently.
In a move that is overtly casual, Casteel sits on the edge of the tub, fingers dipping into the heated water. The wounds on his neck are no longer bandaged, only red scabs remain. At this distance, the scars under his jaw are visible, deep and jagged. How Dylan didn’t kill him, I don’t know.
His tongue darts out and his eyes darken.
“She gave me full control over you until the ceremony tomorrow.” I hear the clink of metal as his hand reaches for his belt. “She suggested I break you in as I please.”
I swallow in an attempt to get the fear dislodged from my throat. And because royalty speeds through my veins I can’t help myself when I reply, “Do you think that’s possible? Breaking me easily?”
“What makes you think I want it to be easy?” Casteel reaches for me and I’m slippery and wet, nowhere to run and definitely nowhere to hide. I’m pulled from the bath, water rushing down my body. He eyes me greedily, unaware that the slave in the corner has run out of the room, panic and terror written on her face. This is surely not the first time she’s seen the Commander take what he wants.
With my wrists clamped in his hands, he leans forward and says, “This one is for your Sentinel. Payback is a bitch.”
Chapter
Bunny
Pacing the studio, I stop every pass and stand before the painting. Wondering. Wishing. Hoping.
I’ve fucked up. Worse than I thought. Morgan wasn’t supposed to be here. Just Anita. My plan had been to kill the Queen and pawn, then restore the only survivor to the throne.
That was the plan, but now it’s gone all to hell.
There’s one thing I could do. It’s worth a shot and the gate taunts me, beckoning me to go back through. Get help. Find Dylan.
He’ll kill me, maybe before I can get him back here. And if he doesn’t? The Morrigan and Casteel will string me from the rafters. A bunny caught in a snare.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What have I done?
With a deep breath I focus on the painting, pressing my palm flat against the surface. I whisper the words, the ones that activate the runes built into the image. The center bends, swirling the colors from dark to light, light to dark, breaking down the barriers from this realm to the next. I feel the gust, the warmth from home, the smell of my studio on the other side, but a tug draws me back.
“Master! Master!” the voice calls. I look away from the gate, from my home, and see the girl in her gray uniform, eyes pleading. I yank my hand away and the opening shuts with a harsh, cosmic slam.
“What!” I regret my tone instantly. This girl—the slave—doesn’t deserve my anger. “I’m sorry, what is it?”
“She’s in trouble.”
She. Morgan.
“What kind of trouble?” There’s only so much I can do and even then it will never be enough.
“The Commander is in her room.” Her hands shake. “He’s going to hurt her.”
I nod and thank her. I’m no match for the Commander—his magic or his strength—even if I had both hands. I kick the pile of canvases, scattering them across the room. The disruption uncovers metal, sleek steel with a bejeweled hilt. I lunge for the sword, recognizing a gift from the gods when I see it, and hope I’m not too late.
Chapter 27
Dylan
The painting parts before me, spinning like a tsunami. Paint and magic separate, splitting our worlds in two. I’d seen it before but not like this. Not so unexpected. I’d walked into Bunny’s studio expecting to find little to nothing and instead I find this—an opening portal—just waiting for me to step in.
I hesitate. There’s no guarantee the gate leads where I want it to. It could be a trap. Taking me straight to the dungeons. Maybe to the zombie pits on the south side of the realm, or to the darkest depths of the deadly, frozen sea. The Otherside is not contained to just the castle, but this could be my only chance to find Morgan and my brothers. It could be our only opportunity to take the Morrigan out, once and for all.
I step closer, feeling the rush of arctic air, my eyelashes freezing into stiff points. I pat my pockets for my weapons. I unsheathe the blade I always carry from my hip. Just as I’m about to take the leap the air softens, the gusts slow, and the gate shrinks before my eyes.
“No,” I mutter, pressing forward. “No!”
I shove my hands into the gate and toss myself forward, forcing my way into the dark, praying to the gods I land safely on the other side.
Chapter 28
Morgan
Water runs down my body, slippery and wet from the soap. I’ve got no defense against Casteel’s forceful, grabby hands. “It’s going to be a pleasure breaking you down, little thing.”
Desperate, I yank hard, using my soapy skin to my advantage and slip from his grasp. I fall backwards from the force but steady my hands on the tub. He doesn’t care, I’m definitely not in any sort of dominate position. I’m naked and unarmed. He leers at me, taking time to unbutton his pants. The belt clinks to the floor and I look away.
“Don’t act shy,” he says, tearing off his shirt first. Black fabric falls to the floor. I fumble around the edge of the tub, touching the sponge, the soap, the shampoo. “Rumors of your lustful activity is legendary in the castle. Each time you fuck your guardians, the Queen falls apart—did you know that? Takes a little piece of her power. So much fucking over the last few months. Made the palace unbearable. So she figured she’d steal your guardians
and strip you of that little bit of control you have over her.”
He’d removed his shirt to make me see his strength. The broad, hard lines of his chest and shoulders. His muscles are massive. Bigger than Clinton. Bigger than any human man for certain. His hard length is visible underneath his trousers. His cock as much a weapon as any blade. I brace myself and wrap my fingers around the nearest thing. Something—anything.
He grabs me by the neck, pulling our bodies together. I recoil at the feel of him against me. He hardens and smiles, twisting his fingers in my hair. “The gods gave you beauty. I can’t wait to see those sweet, perfect lips wrapped around my—“
I smash the soap in his eyes, spreading the lather with my fingers. He yelps at the sting—the lye burns—and I push him with both hands, slamming the bathroom door between us and then shoving a trunk in front of the door. It’s only buying me a few moments. I try the main door—locked.
Frantically I look around the room, already knowing there are no weapons. I must defeat him on my own—using my powers. I fling open the closet door, rummaging through the clothing left for me. I toss a shirt over my head, aware that it barely skims my thighs, and pull the wooden hanger from the rack.
Casteel roars from the bathroom, banging hard against the door. Wood splinters and the force wrenches the door knob clear off. The trunk flies across the room, spilling the contents across the floor. I press my back against the wall, holding the wooden hanger like a lifeline, trying to gather a spark to fight back with.
He doesn’t speak as he prowls toward me. His face has taken on demonic features. Sharp teeth, an elongated jaw. I blink, thinking I must be making it up, but I’ve seen the Otherside demons in the fighting ring. Casteel may have more than one form. And I have absolutely no idea how I’ll fight him.
He closes the gap, ripping the hanger out of my hands and tossing it across the room with a clatter. I whisper a quiet prayer. To the gods, to my guardians, to Hildi’s goddess, begging for this not to be my last moment and for the moments between now and death to be swift and merciful.
He flicks his wrist and I fling up my hand, protecting myself with an invisible shield. It only holds a second, flickering, but he’s faster than me, casting power in my direction, and I’m struck with the same paralyzing sensation that he inflicted before. Amused, he smiles, and when he’s close enough I feel his breath on my cheek, smell the sour stench of his skin. He’s hard-packed muscle and as much as I don’t want to acknowledge it, the length between his legs seems bigger, harder, and I shudder when he presses it against my lower stomach. Violence and fear turn him on.
“Don’t fight, unless you want it to hurt more.” His smile--the disgusting, awful smile--drops when a weight slams against the hallway door. “I saw the slave disappear. Who do you think is going to help you? There’s no one here for you, Morgan. Not one person.”
I was a fool for coming here so impulsively and I have no doubt I’ll pay for my decision. Frozen under Casteel’s power, I’m pressed against the wall and something or someone bangs against the door again and there’s scratching against the lock. Shouting bounces against the walls and I dig deep inside, feeling the dregs of my own power—remnants from being with Dylan. A flare sparks, enough for me to wiggle my fingers. The commotion continues in the hall and I use the distraction to wedge my hand between our bodies. My nails elongate and spike. His eyebrow lifts when I wrap my hand around his cock, caught between confusion and pleasure.
The door crashes in and Bunny fills the doorway. I see the spray of blood on his face, the glimmer of my sword in his hand. I claw at Casteel, my nails ripping through the fabric of his pants to the flesh, and then I kick him in the gut.
“You came,” I say, watching Bunny stride toward the bent over Casteel, who is howling in pain. He’s down, but not for long.
“Always,” Bunny declares.
The Commander stands, a beast compared to my smallest guardian. Bunny swings the blade in his hand like second nature. He glances at me before Casteel’s fist makes contact with his jaw and my world turns upside down.
*
Shaking off the punch, Bunny shifts into warrior mode, something I’ve only seen a few times. He always presented himself as the gentlest of my Guardians and it takes me a moment to reconcile the force in the doorway, that he came back to help me, and that no, I’m not alone.
“You do not get to touch her,” Bunny says, voice laced with possessive venom. “You should not even look at her. If anything, you bow and grovel in her presence.”
“Show me, weakling, what you plan to do about it.” Casteel growls and lunges, the two men clashing in the middle of the room. I use the distraction to pull on pants and my boots. What else am I going to do, where am I going to go?
Bunny gives as good as he takes but he’s smaller—and lacking the benefit of two functional arms. Casteel pummels him, slamming his fists into his face and kidneys. I lift my hand at a wooden chair by the vanity and by the power of the gods, I heave it overhead, slamming it down on his back. The wood shatters, barely stopping him, but he turns his back on Bunny and leers in my direction.
“Fucking whore. Gods dammed, fucking whore.”
Bunny’s on the ground but through swollen eyes we make contact, a brief moment of understanding, and he reaches for my sword and in a quick motion, slides it across the floor. Casteel turns at the sound of metal scraping across stone. He may be huge but I’m light on my feet and I dive for it, barely missing it. The tip of the sword lands in the fire. On my hands and knees I crawl toward it, getting my hands around the hilt.
It’s heavy and my position is awkward and Casteel is hovering over me, breathing heavy. “What do you think you’re going to do with that, little girl?”
I roll over, bringing the blade with me. My sword, the one given to me by Damien, infused with magic by Bunny. It feels light in my hands, the hilt curved to my dimensions. The sword moves effortlessly through the air, slicing down on Casteel’s forearm. He jumps back, yelping, and I scramble to my feet. The rage on the Commander’s face is unquestionable, and even with the sword, I know his wrath will be deadly. He lifts his hand, ready to use his magic against me again, but a presence appears in the door. Just as tall and twice as deadly.
The fighting stops as we all look up at Dylan standing in the doorway, ancient rage consuming him.
“Hello, Casteel,” he says, withdrawing a blade. “Good to see you again.”
Chapter 29
Dylan
I stare at my enemy and thank the gods that Bunny opened the gate. Did he mean to? I doubt it, but from the scene I find them in, there’s little question it may have been fate and my link to Morgan that led me here.
Casteel snarls when he sees me, blood dripping down one arm. He’s inexplicably shirtless, but I note the dishevelment of Morgan’s hair. The anger and rage on her face and the heightened protective stance Bunny maintains tells me that something dangerous has happened here.
Morgan is savvy enough not to waste the distraction of my entrance. Her sword arcs through the air, aiming for his throat. He reacts quickly, jumping out of the way. Casteel earned his title of Commander for a reason, just as I earned mine as Sentinel.
His movement disrupts his use of magic—the forceful ability to manipulate another person—and I waste no time in catching Morgan’s eye. “Go. I’ll take care of this.”
My wish for her to leave and go back to the safety of The Nead is futile. I know this without a word passing between us. She came here to complete a mission. The best I can do is give her the time to accomplish it.
Bunny follows her out the door and I stop him with an outstretched hand.
“You harm her and I will peel your skin off with a knife and leave it to the wolves surrounding the castle for feed.”
“I won’t hurt her.” He swallows. “Not again.”
It takes everything I have not to pierce him in the heart. But that is not my job to handle. Morgan will have the final say on the conse
quence of his betrayal and right now is not the time.
With them safely out of the room, I turn and face the soldier that tortured and held me captive the last time I was in this realm.
“I never thought you’d return,” he says. “After you ran so quickly the last time.”
I step forward, assessing everything about the room. The layout, the furniture, the scent of lavender shampoo in the air. Morgan’s hair had been wet. And there are damp spots on Casteel’s pants.
“Did you harm her?” I ask, unconcerned with his petty taunts.
“The little princess?” He runs a hand down the jagged scar. “Not yet.”
“And the Morrigan wanted you to…defile her?”
“No, that was all on me.” I hear the sharp click of metal and see he’s found his own weapon, stashed away on his body. “I figured she could pay your debt.”
“My debt?”
He laughs. “For letting you live.”
I take him in. The weak point of his injured arm. His ego. The fact he doesn’t even understand what’s going on here and how much bigger all of this is than petty grudges. I let him laugh and then give him a smile of my own.
And then I launch my attack.
Chapter 30
Bunny
There’s no hesitation when Dylan tells me to run. My behavior is out of instinct—out of the need to keep Morgan alive. Now that all hell is breaking loose and any semblance of control I had over the situation is gone, I have little choice but to get Morgan out of here alive.
At the turn leading to my studio—back to the portal—she stops, refusing to go further.
“Take me to them.”
“To the dungeons?” I shake my head and keep an eye over her shoulder. “Not a chance.”
Her grip tightens around my fingers and her voice turns cold. The glint of her sword, still tipped in blood, hangs at her side. “Fine. I’ll go alone.”
