ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Publisher’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.
Solstice Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com
Copyright 2017 – Violeta M. Bagia
King of Hart
A Hart of Darkness Novel
Violeta M. Bagia
Dedication
To the fans—you are the reason this author’s dreams came true. Thank you
Prologue
Illarion
Tears burned the inside of my eyelids. Ace couldn’t be gone. Not like this. We needed more time, God there wasn’t enough time. Before I could stop the flood, my tears fell—a never ending, all-consuming rage took hold.
“I wish I told you in person too.”
I held onto her, yelling for her to open her eyes, but she was still, too still. Her mind grew quiet and I couldn’t hang on to her flickering thoughts. Her soft hands were limp in mine and no matter how much I squeezed them she didn’t squeeze back.
‘I love you, Ace, I love you. Please, please don’t leave me. Zvezda Moya.’
Tears slipped from my eyes as I lowered my forehead to hers.
‘Please, stay with me, Ace. Stay with me.’
My words and cries blended into one, painful and deafening kaleidoscope of terror. My heart refused to accept what my mind told me. There was no way. No possible way that I’d lost her. And yet she was gone.
Aurel pulled me against his chest and I clutched at the fabric around his arms, like he was the only lifeline I had left.
The medics worked quickly, but it was over. I’d already felt her heart give out. Anger tore through me. They’d handed her over to the enemy and failed her, every last agent meant to protect her including me. I failed her.
‘They’re taking her to the Agency Hospital.’ Aurel’s voice was rough, like his words were acid, burning his throat. ‘We should go.’
A sob rippled through my body before I could stop it.
I pulled free from Aurel and pushed past him, I couldn’t be here; I couldn’t breathe, not with all the noise.
At some point I ended up at the hospital, seated in a small plastic chair contemplating a way to live.
‘We’re ready for you.’ Donna crouched down in front of me, taking my hands in hers.
She’d patched me up a few times after missions in the past, she was an old friend, a familiar face which should have consoled me.
‘Donna.’ I ground out though the whimper that left my lips.
‘You should say goodbye, they would have wanted that.’
They? My eyes shot up, and Aurel shifted in his seat beside me, I shot him a sideways glance before looking back at Donna, getting to my feet.
Her eyes widened as she stood. ‘Oh, Illarion, I’m so sorry… you didn’t, you didn’t know?’
Aurel was beside me in a heartbeat as though he was trying to prepare me. Prepare me for what?
My eyes swung back to Donna, her lips were set in a hard line. ‘She was pregnant, Illarion, I’m so sorry.’
Chapter One
Ace
A cold grin swept over his face. ‘So incredibly perceptive of you, my dear.’
My breath caught in my throat. ‘Where am I?’ I repeated, painfully aware of the wavering in my voice, much like the time he ambushed me and Illarion on the road.
‘The Giver and the Taker—together again.’ He laughed, mocking what I’d said to Damon.
God. How could we have read this so wrong?
Where was Illarion? Did he know I was alive? Was he even looking? Was Troy alive?
The man stood beside my bed, his hip resting lazily against the edge. ‘You’re probably questioning why you aren’t able to feel your powers inside you…,’ he spoke, softly.
My mind shot off in all directions. He wasn’t just talking about the warehouse, no… no there was something more.
‘Who are you?’
He smirked, scrubbing his hand across his greying beard.
‘We’ll get to that, in time.’
Fear coiled around my heart.
‘You fought through my strongest compulsion—made me rethink everything.’
I couldn’t speak.
‘You do remember, don’t you?’
Words refused to form.
He laughed as he brushed my hair forward letting his fingers graze across my face.
Jerking my head back from him, I hissed as the pain from my injuries surged.
Undeterred, he roughly squeezed my face and forced my eyes to his.
‘When I saw your strength, I realized I must take precautions.’ His eyes travelled across the bed to the small metal tray, a bright blue liquid stared me right in the face. ‘I thought it best to keep you medicated, at least until you woke.’
Each word was causing new panic to rise.
‘Now I know you’re familiar with this.’ He released his hold, walked over to the tray, and picked it up. ‘On an intimate level, if I’m not mistaken?’
My eyes remained transfixed to the syringe. I had no idea what he was talking about. I’d seen it used, but, but that’s all. Until I woke… how much time had passed?
Words failed me. My eyes were glued to the bright blue liquid.
He held it up. ‘This is an amazing little breakthrough in medicine. It was based on the drug, heroin. Its effects are similar, but a little more amplified. You see, it works by blocking pain receptors to the brain and impairing your concentration. Effectively, limiting your responses to what we want them to be. A powerful, young Sensitive discovered it a few years ago, he’s been fine tuning it, testing it for us.’
No, this couldn’t be happening.
‘Why are you doing this to me?’
He smiled, syringe in hand.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the blue liquid.
‘The effects will take hold in approximately ten seconds. And then,’ he smiled, ‘You and I are going to do some incredible things.’
I ignored my increasing heart rate and swallowed back the fear.
‘What do you want from me?’ I dared to ask.
Before my mind could begin to process the level of shit I was in, he pressed the needle into my neck.
And then the panic rose.
‘You half-brother was an idiot, he couldn’t have known that the transfer wouldn’t have worked, but I did.’
Crap.
His eyes narrowed as he pulled the needle away from my neck, I looked up at him and that was the last thing I remembered. My eyes closed, and the Serum took hold.
***
‘How do you feel Ms. Hart?’
I opened my eyes, relieved to see that I was in a lovely, bright room. The sun shone through the half-closed blind to my left, and to my right, my heart monitor beeped, slowly, loudly.
The walls were pristine, white, adorned with only the finest art, much like the furniture. I realized then that I wasn’t in a hospital.
I looked at the handsome older man before me, meeting his crystal gaze. He stood with his hands folded neatly behind his back.
‘I feel fine.’
He smiled.
‘Are you ready to begin your work?’
I nodded.
‘Excellent, help her up.’ He spoke to two nurses who hurried in and obediently helped me up and out of the bed.
&nbs
p; They lowered me into a wheelchair and then he sent them away.
‘Now, I’d like to set some ground rules.’
‘Of course.’
We continued through the grand house, the vastness of the building was exceptional. It was beautiful. The most beautiful home I’d ever seen. The pristine walls weren’t only in the room I’d woken in, they continued throughout.
The staircases were lined with Persian rugs; the walls were painted in a rich burgundy adorned with gold framed paintings form the sixteenth century. The ceilings were so high you could fit a fifteen-foot tree in here.
‘You’re staying in my home as my guest, I expect you to obey the rules. Part of that is that you call me, master, understand?’
‘Yes, master.’
He nodded. ‘First, you will not wander the house or grounds unaccompanied. Second, you will not be late to dinner, and third, you will not, under any circumstances question me or my orders.’
My eyes flicked up. Why would I question him?
‘Do you understand these three rules, Ms. Hart?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, I do, master.’
‘Good. Now I’m going to set you up in your room, I lock it at night and unlock it at sunrise, unless I need you for something, understand?’
‘Yes master.’
We stopped at the foot of the stairs and he helped me to my feet. Ignoring the pain in my side, I carefully took the steps one at a time, leaning against him for support. We stopped when we reached a large door, which he unlocked with a key that he slipped back inside his waistcoat pocket. Following his hand, my eyes went back to the door as he pushed it open and helped me in.
‘New clothes, shoes and toiletries are all ready for you. Come down for dinner at six and do not be late.’
‘Thank you, master.’ I nodded, painfully shifting my weight to my other foot as soon as the door was closed and he was gone.
I moved to the large bed and sat down, letting my fingers sink in to the soft, velvet blanket lining the sheets. It was so beautiful; the whole room was themed in red and gold. Like the rest of my master’s house.
Mahogany floorboards peeked out from under a large red oriental rug. Atop the rug was an antique four-poster bed with crisp white sheets and a red and gold patterned coverlet.
The writing desk was also dark in color as were the wooden shelves surrounding it. Beautiful.
I smiled up at the ceiling; the black chandelier was extravagant. It was almost bigger than the desk.
When I managed to get myself up and off the bed, I waddled over to the walk-in wardrobe. It was brimming with dresses. No, they weren’t dresses. They were gowns. Ballroom dancing type of gowns. They were amazing. They were like something a princess would wear.
I pulled a lacy, black one out and pressed it to my body smiling at my reflection in the floor length mirror.
Deciding that this was my favourite, I took it to the bed and smoothed it out. I needed to shower first, then I would wear it.
Turning the shower on, I stepped back and stripped, once the steam had filled the bathroom I stepped in and let the water wash over me.
There were dozens of perfumed shampoos stacked neatly in the crevice. I chose a vanilla one and indulged in the fragrance. As I let the water wash it out of my hair, I felt it; a deep, sorrowful hum, in the depths of my heart like a memory just out of reach.
I threw my hand out in front of me, stopping myself from falling through the screen.
‘What the hell?’ I hissed, fogging up the glass.
Just as it came, it was gone, and I felt normal again.
I turned the water off and dried myself. Catching my reflection, I stopped. My hands hovered over my stomach. I knew the scars were there from the fight I had with Damon, and the new ones across my ribs were from the warehouse, but a different kind of pain had my attention. An emotional pain, but where my hands were flat over my skin, there was nothing.
I shook my head and got dressed. The black, lace hung perfectly over my curves. I loved it.
Pulling my wet hair into a tight bun I made my way downstairs.
I couldn’t be late.
As I made my way through the winding halls, I felt the pressure inside my head building but I couldn’t place it, I swallowed hard and tried to force myself calm. I gripped the railing as the long train of my dress trailed down each step.
‘Ah, here she is.’ Master got to his feet with his arms outstretched.
I smiled; he liked the dress.
‘You look lovely. I’m glad you found something you like.’
‘They’re all so pretty, thank you so much.’ I blushed and looked down at my hands.
‘You’re welcome. Sit.’ He guided me to the chair nearest to his.
I obliged and sat, waiting for permission to speak.
‘My son will be joining us for dinner, I hope you like veal.’
‘I do.’ I looked up as his son sat down.
He was in his late teens, maybe even twenties. He had his father’s eyes.
‘Daniel, this is Acacia.’
Daniel didn’t look at me or smile. Rude.
‘Will she be staying longer than the others?’ His voice had a rough edge to it, which his father seemed to ignore.
Instead, he turned his attention to me. ‘Yes. Ms. Hart will be staying much longer.’
Something inside me shifted. Again, it was a feeling I couldn’t quite place. But it was familiar, that I knew. An ache, a longing, for what?
‘Ah, the food is ready.’
I followed my master’s gaze to the four staff members who approached, carrying plates of food, drink and bread.
One of them caught my eye.
It was an open, silver dish with a white cloth and a syringe with pretty, blue liquid.
This time, Daniel looked at me. It was only a quick glance, but I saw it before he turned away.
My master nodded at Daniel. ‘Go on.’
Slowly, he took the syringe off the platter and walked around to my side of the table.
When he knelt beside me, I held out my arm, pulling the sleeve up.
Daniel’s eyes caught mine. A small, niggling feeling of dread washed over me, but faint, undetectable. How curious that this boy was concerned for me? I drew my arm back.
‘Acacia.’ My master’s voice boomed across the dining table. ‘Do not make that mistake again.’
Immediately I put my arm back, shaking.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, master.’
I dropped my gaze to my arm where Daniel wiped the inner corner of my elbow with a swab and pressed the needle into my skin. A tiny hiss left my lips, but I stifled it before my master could get angry with me.
‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel whispered and then he was up and gone.
What was he sorry about?
Slowly, everything in my mind faded except the dinner.
We ate, Daniel and my master spoke, I drank and then he carried me to bed. I fell asleep, but somewhere in my consciousness, threads of memories pieced themselves together.
***
I shot up, sweat dotting my forehead. I remembered closing my eyes and feeling the fabric of the dress leave my body. I remembered rough, calloused hands touching me, coasting across my skin, slipping through my hair but they didn’t feel right. Something was off. They weren’t his, they weren’t Illarion’s.
Illarion. My breath caught as a shaky sob wracked my body. Months of emotions hit me like a freight train.
My baby, our baby was dead. I was beaten and tortured. Illarion’s face haunted me. I was brought here by him, my master was the Taker, he was Ugly Shoes. Oh God. How had I missed this?
He was using me. Everything was so damn hazy. Why couldn’t I remember everything?
The Serum. Of course. Fuck. Maybe something was wrong with the Serum, maybe they weren’t using a strong enough dose. But that wasn’t it, I’d felt this before, long ago. I groaned in frustration when I failed to figure it out.
Shaking my head, I scrat
ched the inner part of my elbow.
What the hell was I going to do?
Quickly rushing around the room, assessing everything, I came back to the same crappy conclusion—the windows were barred, the door was locked, and the vents were too small.
Think, Ace, think.
My phone. I moved to the wardrobe. I vaguely remembered seeing the skimpy dress from the warehouse in there.
I dropped to my knees and rummaged around in the dark; there were endless rows of shoes—ridiculous heels, but my clothes were missing. I slapped my palm to my face. Of course they were. He wasn’t an idiot.
And what the hell was I wearing? The dresses above me loomed like some twisted fantasy.
Bile built and before I could hold it back, I ran to the toilet bowl and threw up.
My hand shook as I reached up nervously feeling for the treasure around my neck, but my fingers came up empty. It was gone. Troy’s necklace was gone.
At that, the last few months flooded back, tears formed. How much time had passed?
Being with Illarion, training with Aurel, laughing with them… Troy… another bout of nausea hit me. All the thoughts my mind locked away somehow came crashing into me. I threw up until there was nothing left. Until my body ached and my heart was shattered. And I was screwed. So, epically screwed. Was Troy okay? Did they all get out?
Illarion would be losing it. He’d be running God knows how many missions to find me. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.
Certain that no more surprise bouts would hit me, I pulled away and flushed the remains. I dragged myself to my feet and walked over to the bed. I was disgusted. I couldn’t sit on it, not when he touched me like that. Oh god. What else did he...? I refused to finish that thought.
I needed to think. I needed a way out. If only I could reach Illarion. I focused on him, trying to find that pull, that familiar hum, but it was gone.
I was blocked off from everything and everyone. And then, like a slap to the face I remembered where I’d felt this before. I was transported back to Iraq and the seemingly endless nights and days of torture, being injected with a concoction devised by the twisted ex-marine, Luke Grimes. I had managed to get off that drug, which is why I recognized this feeling. The itchiness, the jitters, I was coming down off the Serum.
King of Hart Page 1
