by Frankie Rose
Contents
COPYRIGHT
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Black Moon Rising
Copyright © 2018 Callie Hart, writing as Frankie Rose
Black Moon Rising
copyright © 2018 Callie Hart, writing as Frankie Rose
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places and characters are figments of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognises the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.
In the early twenty-fourth century, mankind took to the stars. There are few records documenting what drove them to leave their home planet, but the wanderers who ventured beyond their solar system flourished. Countless colonies were established on countless habitable planets. Soon, the human race could barely remember their origins.
They encountered alien races much like their own, as well as many life forms that were vastly different. Humankind evolved, just as it always evolved, and soon every outposts developed cultures and physical traits that contrasted and complimented each other, creating a rich, diverse tapestry amongst the galaxy.
The Commonwealth of Planets was forged to maintain peace and civility amongst all races. A thousand years of prosperity and harmony followed, where humans and other life forms lived alongside one another, unified by their core beliefs.
Corruption poisons even the calmest waters, though. Whisperings of war began to circulate. A group of planetary leaders formed an alliance of their own, and deemed the free will of the people to be dangerous. And so the Construct was born. Their forces grew like a wildfire, their technology advancing by the minute, and soon the Commonwealth was forced to disband, it’s leaders executed, it’s people kidnapped and integrated into the Construct army.
There are few who refused to bow down to the Construct, though.
There are still those who will not bend the knee.
There are still those fighting for equality, liberty and independence.
You just need to know where to find them.
PROLOGUE
REZA
His fingers are inside me, and I can’t quite catch my breath. His mouth is on mine—hot, demanding, inescapable—and my head is swimming all over the place. He breaks off the kiss, the briefest of reprieves, and I gasp in a breath of air, my lungs burning like crazy.
Gods…
Gods, it’s happening again…
I wasn’t awake when he came for me. I never am. It always takes place exactly like this: I’m asleep, dreaming, and then my body feels like it’s rising, floating to the surface from the bottom of very deep water. There’s no panic. No sound. No fear. It’s as though I’m being gently cradled and lifted from some dark, nameless place, until I breach the surface of reality, and there he is, waiting for me. Always waiting: the man with the dark hair and the burning, golden eyes.
His skin is hot against mine, hard and smooth, like warmed marble. His breath stutters from his mouth, very uneven as I run my hands over the taut muscles of his back. He’s strong and powerful, commanding every inch of me.
Here, in these hushed, dark moments we share, our bodies connect and combine in the most unbelievable way. He is a sun, and I am a moon. He is the dusk, and I am the dawn.
His touch lingers and burns at my skin. Biting down hard on my bottom lip, he tugs at my flesh, then flicks it with his tongue. “Your heart’s racing.” His voice is a whisper, caressing the sensitive bare skin of my neck. “You eat. You breathe, You work. You sleep. You trick yourself into thinking your days are full, and you enjoy your existence. This is when you’re most alive, though, Reza. Here, in my arms.”
He can see inside me, and he can hear my thoughts. Here, with his hands on my body, his tongue working over the tightened bud of my nipple, strands of his long, dark hair skating over my skin, making me break out into goose bumps, I can’t hide anything from him. I can’t bring myself to admit that he’s right, though. That would be dangerous. My soul won’t allow it, because I know who he is, and I know what he’s done. He’s a beautiful, savage, cruel thing, and he’s going to be the death of me one of these days.
He withdraws his fingers from inside me and places them one by one into his mouth, licking them clean. His eyes flash with bursts of gold, so bright they look unnatural—one moment they’re as dark as pitch, the next they’re lit up like a flaring sun. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip once he’s done with his fingers, as if he’s savoring the taste of me. “You want me,” he whispers.
“I don’t. I can’t.” My protests sound weak and unconvincing, even to me. We’ve been here before. We’ve quarrelled this out many times. The moral, principled part of me knows that wanting him is wrong. That part of me has never been the victor in this situation, though. I always give in. I always let him have me, because I want him just as badly. He’s the only thing I’m afraid of in this universe, and he’s the only thing I need more then the blood that runs through my veins—the cruellest, most painful cosmic joke ever conceived.
Dipping down, he kisses my collarbone, and his hair smells fresh and clean. Somehow, he smells like the cold. He smells like winter. “You want to scream. You want to hit me. You want me to leave. You want to hate me,” he says softly. “But you can’t, Reza, because you know I love you. You know I’d never hurt you.”
Some people call him King of Lies. Some people say he’d be physically incapable of telling the truth, even if he wanted to. I know better, though. Jass Beylar is honest to a fault, and more often than not he’s usually right. That’s what makes him so perilous. I can feel his affection for me, even as I sense the other warring, dark, sinister emotions inside him, vying for his attention. And I know he would never hurt me. The only thing he values more than his own life is mine.
“You need to stop this,” I tell him. “You need to stop doing this to us. We’re tearing each other apart.”
Jass’ eyes glint. He strokes my hair back behind my ear, and then runs his fingers over my cheekbone and down, along the line of my jaw. I shiver as his fingers move lower, circling my nipple. “I only come here when you call out to me,” he says. “I never come without invitation. If you want this to stop…” He smiles, a raw, scandalous smile that makes my stomach pitch. “If you want this to stop, you have to stop asking me to come here.”
“I’ve never asked you to come
here.”
His teeth graze my neck, lightly at first and then harder, making me hiss at the brief stab of pain. He pulls back, taking hold of my right wrist first, then my left, pinning both my arms high over my head. My back arches, causing my breasts to rub against his chest. A burst of adrenalin fires through me, circling around my body, burning between my legs, and I can barely take it anymore. I want him. I want him inside me so fucking badly. His need for me is obvious; his dick is rock solid, pressing up against my belly. I angle my hips up without thinking, and Jass grinds his teeth together.
The deep, low rumble of his voice in my ear makes my toes curl. “There’s a tether between us, Reza. A connection I don’t understand yet. You can feel it, I know you can. Sometimes, whether you’re aware of it or not, you pull on that tether. You draw me to you. I’ll never deny that request. Just as you’ll never deny the pleasure I give to you. You want me inside you. You want to feel me inside you when your climax takes you. You want to feel me getting harder and harder, until I can’t take it anymore and I come. Admit it. Tell me the truth.”
“I—” I can’t let the words out of my mouth. It’s pointless trying to hold them back, but I try, just as I try every time he comes to me. “I don’t want—” Gods, this is difficult. My breathing is out of control, ragged, loud even to me. I’m panting, my vision blurred, and I can barely form a single coherent thought. My desire clouds everything. Jass dips down, hovering over me, supporting his weight on his elbows. I can’t wrestle my arms free from him…not that I’m even trying.
“I’m going to fuck you, Reza. You can make me leave, if that’s what you want. You can force me off you. Hurt me. Deny me. This is your chance. But if you don’t, I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to make you come until you scream my goddamn name. Make your decision.”
I will hurt him. I will deny him. I will make him leave. Only, when I open my mouth, nothing comes out of it. He stares down at me for a long, drawn out, never-ending moment, and the lust in his eyes nearly sends me spiralling down into the depths of madness. He is the night bringer. He is the doom and destruction of an entire galaxy. And yet my heart is fused with his, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I offer myself up to him. My legs fall open, and the man with the golden eyes grins wickedly. He releases my hands, groaning as he thrusts himself into me, and a wave of pleasure crashes over me like a violent storm wave battering against a rocky shore.
“Gods, Jass!” I dig my fingernails into his back, and he bares his teeth, thrusting into me once more. I can’t get enough of him. The flat planes of muscle that make up his chest and stomach all shift and tense as he moves, and I’m hypnotized by him. He’s perfection. There isn’t a line of his body that is out of place, and I can’t stop myself from watching him as he fucks me. My heart’s hammering out a frantic drumbeat, my ears ringing. Jass bows himself over me, and his mouth finds mine. His tongue is in my mouth, laving at me, gently tracing the line of my lips. He tastes strangely sweet—like a small citrus candy my parents used to give me when I was small, back before they died.
Now isn’t the time to be thinking of my parents, though. I push them out of my mind, just as Jass pushes himself into me again. And again, and again. His arms are tensed, his biceps straining, and I dig my fingers into him there, too. I bite down on his pec, and he snarls under his breath. The vibration of the sound rattles inside my head as he pushes himself deep inside me—as deep as he possibly can. He’s rough, but he knows when to stop. He knows where the line in the sand has been drawn, and he never crosses it. It walks me to it, threatens to obliterate it, but he always stops. He pushes enough to thrill me, then pulls back.
“You’re mine, Reza. You’re mine to fuck, and mine to keep,” Jass rumbles into my ear. He gathers up a handful of my hair and winds it around his fist, drawing my head back with a sharp tug. “Our souls are joined. Our fates are aligned. It doesn’t matter where we go, we’ll always find one another. Now come for me,” he growls. “I want to feel it. Soak me. I want to feel you all over me.”
I can’t resist him. Not with him inside me, looking down on me like I’m the galaxy’s most prized creation. And he knows how to fuck me. He knows how to make me writhe and twist beneath him. He promised he would fuck me until I was screaming his name, and I give him what he wants. I buck and moan as my orgasm rips through me, turning my vision red. I scream until my throat feels raw, and there is no oxygen left in my lungs.
“Jass! Gods, Jass, I’m coming!”
“I’m going to come, too,” he whispers. I cling to him, pulling him into me, rocking my hips up to meet his, and he shudders as he climaxes, a roar of pleasure echoing around the inside of my head. We’re both breathless and covered in sweat when he lowers himself down on top of me, resting his head on my chest.
His fingertips stroke my skin, making patterns, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. He is so…other. I have no words to describe him. Curling his dark, thick, wavy hair around my index finger, I study him intensely. He really is beautiful. Handsome in a way that makes it hard for me to concentrate.
Murderer.
Assassin.
Puppet.
He is all of these things, but he is so much more.
I allow myself to drift back down into the silent waters of unconsciousness, knowing I won’t remember this when I wake. I savor him for as long as I can before everything fades and vanishes. I make sure to breathe him in until the scent of winter fresh mornings and cold snow disintegrates, and I’m alone in my bed once more.
ONE
NO PLACE DARK ENOUGH
REZA
I’d rather die than be a member of the Construct.
I decided this when I was seven cycles old, three cycles after the Construct laid waste to my home planet and murdered my mother and my father. Murdered everyone I knew or had ever known. I was taken and shoved into an orphanage on an outpost planet in the middle of nowhere, left to rot with thirty or forty other children until I reached what the Construct Elders termed a ‘useful age.’ That’s when they came back for me. That was the first time I tried to kill myself.
I thought I had everything figured out when I was seven. It was better to drown myself at the bottom of a hyper chamber than it was to learn the Construct’s almighty code. To be strapped to a chair and forced to watched clip after clip of burning bodies, stars exploding and lights falling out of the sky over and over again until I was a malleable, pliable piece of meat that would do whatever it was told, whenever it was told to do it.
Suffice it to say, I did not succeed in ending my own life. I was found. I was saved. I was strapped to the damn chair anyway.
Their conditioning stuck for a little while. I learned the Construct’s way, barked out their dictum every time it was required of me: One Life. One Duty. One Construct. My voice was hoarse from it by the time I collapsed into my hard cot each night. I didn’t mind, though. They’d beaten the minding straight out of me.
Then: puberty. The Construct hates puberty. That Molotov cocktail of hormones is enough to send any child crazy—even a child who’s been brain washed. Once more, their coding started to make no sense. Why was it necessary to cleanse the disruptive? Why was sterilization of the masses for the good of us all? I didn’t want to murder families in their beds. I didn’t want to raze entire cities to the ground.
I tried to kill myself again when I was thirteen. I took the wickedly sharp blade that came as part of my service uniform and I laid it against my wrists. The flow of blood seemed catastrophic. Again, they stopped me. Again, they saved me. That was the first time I saw him: Jass Beylar, the boy with the wild, wavy hair, and the dark, soulful eyes. I’d heard of him, of course. Everyone had. The Construct found him alone on an abandoned planet, living amongst the ruins of an ancient city, billions of cycles old. No one could figure out how he had come to be there by himself. No one could understand how he had survived without any supplies or proper shelter, for…well, no one k
new exactly how long he’d even been there. They’d asked. They’d tortured him. They’d used every trick imaginable, and yet Jass never gave them the information they sought. His mind was a vault, and the Construct leaders simply didn’t have the combination to open it.
After a while, rumors began to spread around the ship. The Construct was training Jass, training him in a way few others were trained, and he was responding.
He’d been on the Invictus for a little over a cycle when he found me dying on the metal grate flooring of division eight, where I’d been assigned purging duties. I’d been smarter that time. I’d locked the door, barricaded myself in, but that hadn’t mattered in the end. Back then I’d had no idea how he’d found me. I didn’t know about the link between us. I was too far gone to really know what was happening as the metal chairs and desks I’d stacked up well over my head toppled over Jass bullied his way into the room.
I remember his dark hair. His perfectly formed mouth, pulled into a tight line. His eyes, dark and bottomless, and how I felt like I was falling when I looked up into them. He picked me up off the ground. He ordered me not to die. They told me I imagined that part, though. They told me he didn’t speak.
He must have been seventeen then. Four cycles older than me in his body, but light cycles older in his mind. I didn’t see him up close again until I was eighteen—the final day I spent on the star ship Invictus.
“Tell me about that last day, Reza. Tell me again about what happened with Jass Beylar.” Across from me in the rusting metal shack I now call home, Seer Darius sits with a nylon mesh mask covering his face. This is the way of the seers when they venture to the surface; they have sensitive eyes. Ever since I found my way to Pirius, the seers have grilled me endlessly about Jass. I don’t know why they bother. They’re telepaths. They can see inside my head as well as I can see the suns overhead or the rolling sand dunes spreading out for miles and miles in every direction around us.
