The Darker Side of Love (A Dark Erotica Boxed Set)

by Tara Crescent

  PATHETIC. YOU CHOOSE THIS BOY PRIEST OVER IMMORTALITY?

  Serah whimpered, but gave no response. She felt she could only lay there and will her bones to hold together in one place. But on David Kent she was decided. She would not betray him.

  VERY WELL, MORTAL.

  The last word stung her, and she knew what would come next. It would be better, though. Better this way.

  YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF US. YOUR TIME HAS PASSED. NOW GO BE A FAILURE LIKE YOUR PRECIOUS PRIEST.

  Nothing could prepare her for the shock of the Severing. It was worse by far than her initial Joining had been, years ago.

  The marrow of her bones became molten lead. Her skin expanded to burst, shrank back to squeeze her organs, and then burst again. Electricity lit up every tooth, every finger and toenail with liquid blue pain, and something determined with teeth and hair burrowed into her navel, clawing its way inside.

  Serah had no idea if her screams were happening on the physical plane with the priest, or in the void, for the pleasure of The Fallen. Either way, there was a tiny pearl she kept locked away, letting nothing touch it, neither pain nor fear. Inside that pearl was the knowledge, the one happy truth that, in the end, she had not turned her back on her priest. And perhaps this was love.

  Her universe was white with blaring anguish, the intensity folding in on itself until it reached an infinite pinnacle of hurt.

  She saw David’s face, hallucinating in her pain, and he smiled.

  Her being imploded. White became black, and all was nothing. She was Serah the Initiate no more.

  David blinked, finding himself Above.

  It was always disconcerting, when he didn’t initiate the ascent himself. One moment he’d been shamefully in bed with a tearful Serah, and now he was here, as though it had all been a dream.

  “David.” The voice of The Ascended greeted him as a mass of clanging bells, silver tones ringing out through endless light. “You’ve done it.”

  The Hopeful fairly sagged in relief. “Oh thank the Lord,” he said, feeling his burden lift. Her tears had been too much.

  “We don’t know that we entirely approve of your methods, Hopeful,” The Ascended went on, “but this was no ordinary challenge.” David felt himself color at the implication. Probably sex had been pretty far out of line. Vows were not to be broken lightly.

  “We will reveal to you now,” They said, “that this Serah was an Initiate of The Fallen.” David gasped at this. How had she …? “Her challenge was the same as yours: turn you and earn her place. You succeeded where she did not. Serah no longer walks in darkness. You may join us this day, David Kent. Welcome.”

  His heart flooded with joy at the tide of words.

  Serah no longer walks in darkness.

  And he could join The Ascended now. His voice would ring out with the rest. It was all he’d been working for these many, many years. The light swelled around him, welcoming, and he stepped forward.

  But there was something. A nagging thing. Would she … ?

  “Holy One,” he said, “what will become of her?”

  His skin warmed in The Ascended’s smile of acceptance. “She will be fully mortal now, David. She will learn to accept her body, her limits, just as you did.”

  “And where will she go? Are there people to take care of her?” He frowned at the thought that she would be left alone now, after the trauma of Severance. There were some who didn’t make it.

  “Why do you worry, David?” Their voice was subdued now, a rushing stream, smoothing over rough stones. “She is with the light now. That is what matters.”

  And would it matter to his conscience if he abandoned her now? He’d spoken the truth as he pulled her to him at the side of his bed. He had missed her. It had been killing him every day they were apart. Now he would leave her? After all that?

  No.

  He thought there would be disappointment, but it only felt right. David bowed his head.

  “Holy One,” he began, “She is hurting. I will stay. I will help her.”

  “David,” Their voice was clouds shifting against one another now, “that is very noble of you, but you cannot remain on the mortal plane to help this one and Ascend at the same time.”

  He knew this, of course, but David was calm.

  “I understand what I give up, Holy One. I will remain behind.”

  The breath of The Ascended ruffled through his hair like a sigh, the embrace of a parent whose child has grown up.

  “We see you are in earnest, David Kent. We had hoped to add your light to ours, but if this is your wish … ”

  “It is.”

  “Then go with our blessing. Show her the way back.”

  A sweet, chest-tightening joy gripped him. He would. He would show her the way. They would find a path together.

  “We will hear your voice, David,” The Ascended gave him Their final approval. “Go in peace.”

  At this they Released him, and he floated down, feather light at first, but sinking heavier into his familiar mortal body.

  His eyes came open and he was in bed. Serah was next to him, unconscious, cold. He drew the blanket up to her chin and then stood up to find his clothes.

  Tomorrow: a new journey.

  Obnoxious little birds were twittering outside. Serah’s head felt like it was full of glass and hornets. She dragged the pillow over her head.

  The pillow?

  She snapped awake, flinging back the covers, sitting up in bed.

  His bed.

  What the … ?

  The priest sat on the edge of the mattress, smiling at her, hands folded in his lap. He looked rested and content. Serah was sure she was dead.

  His hand reached out, moving to rest on her ankle, and she yelped at the reality of the touch.

  Nope. You’re alive. Barely.

  With a scrabbling of limbs she kicked sheets aside and jettisoned herself out of the bed. Her eyes scanned the room for her clothing and found it in a neat pile on a chair. She snatched up her skirt and began yanking it over her hips, while a startled David Kent looked on.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, the shame of what she’d nearly done ripping through her body. Serah wriggled into her blouse, hurriedly doing up buttons, apologies pouring from her mouth as she went. “David, really. I’m so, so sorry. You have no idea. I’ll be gone in a minute, you’ll never have to —”

  “Hey.”

  “— see me again. I’ll just be —”

  “Hey!” He was at her side, grabbing her by her upper arm. She stopped her frantic dressing to stare at him, tears threatening to spill again if he did the slightest thing. Which of course he promptly did.

  His arms were around her, squeezing, and he was kissing the top of her head. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” he murmured the words into her hair over and over. She bawled into his chest, sniffling and lost, drawing back eventually to stare at him, baffled.

  She was unprepared for what she saw in those dark eyes.

  He knew.

  Somehow. She felt it. He knew every damn thing. The Fallen. Her challenge. Her rebellion. All of it. Serah started to shake.

  “Serah,” he said, pulling her in again, “It’s over.”

  That only made the sobbing worse. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

  “But David, you don’t understand! I’m a horrible person! The things I —”

  “Shh.” He folded her tighter into his embrace. “None of that matters now. You’re here. I’m here. That’s what matters.”

  Serah stood there, numb, letting his words sink in. The birds outside were not so obnoxious now. She could almost hear a joyful meaning to their song.

  Yes. This was what mattered.

  The weight was lifting. That terrible pressure, heaped on her shoulders at her last meeting with The Fallen — it had never truly been gone. There was always at least a little bit of it there, pushing her down. But now? Nothing. Sweet, glorious nothing.

  She dared to look up at her pr
iest. At David.

  Nothing. But maybe there was room now for something else.

  He smiled at her again, and the heart she thought was missing opened up.

  “There are others out there, Serah,” he said, “Just as you were. Will you help them? With me?”

  Right there, on a Sunday morning, in a rectory, she stood on her toes in front of the priest, or whatever he might become, and kissed him. He let her.

  It was worth it. All worth it.

  “Of course I will.”

  About Eris Adderly

  Eris writes for the reader who’d like to take a vacation from their daily reality, whether through impossibly lusty scenarios, or other places and times entirely. She loves historical fiction, fantasy, sci-fi, and anything that bends a little askew from expectations.

  When she’s not staying up until the wee hours writing, Eris also likes to read, tend to her hoard of cats (OK, just three), exasperate her husband, and obsess about writing some more. Somewhere in the middle there will be some OCD flailing and nitpickery and much sleeping until noon on the weekends.

  Follow Eris online for updates on her latest works in progress and more.

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  Something in Her Eyes

  by

  Justine Hollander

  Text copyright © 2015 Justine Hollander

  All Rights Reserved

  There are no words for how I feel about each and every member of The Erotic Collective - my kinky kindred spirits and a family I never knew was missing. Your encouragement and support push me every day to be a better writer, but only when I can see through my tears of laughter. Love ya’ all!

  My eternal thank you to my editor Jim, and my beta readers Richard and Jennifer. Your cheers of “darker darker” did not go unheard!

  Chapter One

  Blood. It was fucking everywhere.

  “Call for another surgeon, please.”

  While everyone else in the surgery suite was on edge, two hours into the splenectomy and partial liver lobectomy, Benjamin Lewis remained not only calm, but polite. These were the qualities that made him a favorite within the Surgical Oncology department, not only with the nurses, but also the residents and interns that studied under him. Currently, though, his prized resident was struggling to control the bleeding and it was time to call in the troops.

  One of the anesthesia nurses got on the phone, and in less than a minute reported that Dr. Monaghan had just finished up in the next suite and had agreed to scrub in. Ben looked up briefly, his brow furrowed. He’d yet to meet Margaret Monaghan, the new surgeon, but her reputation preceded her. The hospital had just stolen her from Austin, where she’d become well known and highly regarded for her skills as a vascular surgeon.

  Apparently she’d moved to Portland due to the growing demand for specialists in endovascular surgery, but he knew very little else about her. There’d been a welcoming breakfast for her a few days ago, but he’d missed it.

  “Excellent. I guess now is as good a time as any to meet her.”

  Just as the door to the surgical suite opened, bells and chimes from the monitors began to clamor in the air.

  “Pressures are dropping,” the anesthesiologist called out. “Two more units of o-positive.”

  This was on top of the other two units the patient had already received, and it was time to get the monster spleen out of there. Adhesions, many of which were intertwined with large blood vessels made the chore difficult, but his resident’s gloved hands were quickly replaced by another’s, and without words, the two worked together to tie off the bleeders until the surgical field was clear again and he could proceed.

  Without looking up, Ben offered his thanks.

  He could barely hear her reply of, “No worries,” over the background noise.

  They continued on in silence for the next hour. The progress was painstakingly slow, out of necessity, and relief was palpable in the room when the last blood vessels were ligated and the spleen was removed from the patient’s abdomen. Only then did the two surgeons back away from the table as instrument trays were exchanged, and their gloves replaced.

  “Well, welcome to Portland…,” he laughed, “Where apparently the patients bleed as much as the rain falls.”

  They turned towards each other, just as she began to respond.

  “Hey, it’s been sunny since I got…”

  Her words cut off as soon as their eyes met.

  His brown eyes widened in surprise when recognition set in. She may have been gowned, gloved, and masked - her auburn hair hidden from view by a surgical cap, but he’d never forget those eyes.

  No one seemed to notice the two surgeons just staring at each other. The anesthesiology team was stabilizing the patient, while the surgical nurses were setting up for the second half of the surgery. They had no idea of the images that were flashing inside of Ben’s head.

  His eyes closed briefly - images of fine, pink marks left on flesh from wooden clothes pegs and teeth appeared. He heard the sounds of loud music, men barking orders while hurling degrading words - a woman’s voice crying out in agony, and crying out for more. He smelled cum, sweat, burning candles, and the aroma of her intoxicating cunt. The one image that cut through them all, though, was of gold-flecked, hazel eyes, staring up at him. Penetrating him. Knowing who he was - what he was.

  The same eyes that were staring back at him right now.

  “Doctor… DOCTOR!” The nurse call to get his attention. “We’re ready for you.”

  Ben blinked, turning towards her in question, before he realized where he was. He stared at his newly gloved hands, not recalling how or when they’d been changed. What felt like an eternity, was in truth only a few seconds, and once again the doctor was back at the table and focused on his patient.

  With the patient stable, the atmosphere in the surgical suite grew more relaxed. He knew he should say something to her.

  “Miggie. It’s good to see you again.”

  “It’s Margaret now.”

  “Of course, Margaret, pardon me.”

  “Can I assume you don’t go by Benji anymore?”

  He looked up at her briefly, before looking down once again. “No. Just Ben.”

  “Ben,” was all she said.

  The sound of her voice, saying his name sent a brief shiver down his spine. They were quiet for a bit, focused on the surgery in front of them, when she spoke again.

  “That was impressive work back there. Those were bad adhesions.”

  “Thank you. It would have taken twice the time if you hadn’t scrubbed in. Time the patient didn’t have.”

  Margaret nodded, ignoring the compliment. It was clear they were both doing their best to keep the conversation light and superficial.

  “Looks like you’ve got it under control now. I have one waiting for me.”

  Ben locked eyes with her, as if to say something else, but instead thanked her for her help and watched as she exited the room.

  “That’s crazy, Dr. Lewis,” exclaimed Kim, then lead surgery nurse. “Do you two know each other?”

  Ben wasn’t in the mood for conversation, and uncharacteristically curt, mumbled back, “We went to college together.”

  After speaking to the wife of his patient, Ben found himself back in his office, attempting to dictate the operative report, but had to stop repeatedly as more memories crashed forward. Her body, bent over something, maybe a desk - her ass and thighs bruised and discolored - someone behind her with an empty beer bottle in hand.

  “Fuck!”

  Ben slammed the recorder down on his desk, ran his hand through his hair, and tried to ignore the pulsing ache between his legs. Relief flooded him as he remembered that Sarah wouldn’t be coming over tonight after all. He just couldn’t face her. Not tonight.

  Damn it.

  She’d been so careful over the years.

  Margaret smiled as she passed her nurse, telling him she’d be back in five
minutes. Inside, though, she was a tense wreck, and most definitely not smiling. Walking into her new office, it took all of her effort to not slam the door behind her.

  Leaning against the edge of her desk, Margaret ran her hands over her face and took a deep breath. Her worlds were colliding, and she needed to think clearly about this new development. She’d made careless mistakes in college, and had paid for them. It was never a mistake to explore her passions, just who she chose to reveal those passions to. It had taken months, a restraining order, and eventually a move to another state to correct the worst of them. Ever since then, she lived by a strict code of keeping her sex life private from those around her.

  Now you’ve moved, yet again, and find yourself elbow deep in a patient with Benji… Ben. Shit. He looked good, too.

  From an early age, Margaret had enjoyed life immensely, marveling in every sensation it had to offer. Fear. Elation. Shame. Excitement. Anger. Anguish. Joy. She thrived on them all, seeking them out through extreme activities. Having pain inflicted on her, whether it be physical, psychological, or emotional, converted rapidly to pleasure for her. This scared and confused her as a teenager, until a boyfriend joked once that she was a masochist. She’d bristled at the thought, assuming masochism implied weakness, until she read as much as she could about the topic. In the end, Margaret took comfort in knowing there were others like her, and embraced her identity. As an adult, skydiving and other extreme sports, horror movies, along with erotic pain had become her pastimes.

  At times her pursuits had left her injured - broken ribs from rock climbing, a cellulitis within her breast when one lover broke her skin with his teeth, and a torn ACL from mogul skiing were a few of the worst. Her worst fear of all, though, was discovery by family, friends, or colleagues.

  Margaret sighed as she thought back to college, back when they were Miggie and Benji. Margaret saw him in pre-med classes on and off, despite that he was a year below her. He’d been quiet and sweet, with warm, brown eyes that always seemed to be smiling. His wavy, dark brown hair was always in need of a haircut. He was so unlike anyone she’d been attracted to back then, yet there was something about him that would catch her breath - brief moments when she saw something else in his eyes. Something dark. Margaret wondered if anyone else saw it.