by A. K. Koonce
“Traveler, please join us,” the king’s mother whispers in a breathy voice. A voice filled with passion that makes her eyes flutter closed. Her thin fingers sweep across a shining pendant that’s hanging from her neck. She worries at the necklace as if she’s putting all her faith into the trinket.
I can’t explain it but the moment she says it, I feel the veil finally slip away. A chill settles into the large dining room. The feeling claws under my flesh and sets my nerves into a frenzy.
Soft steps echo through the silence and my attention searches the dimly lit room. Darrio’s hand lowers with discreet slowness to his hip. His fingers fumble over the empty sheath and his gray eyes narrow on me when he realizes his weapon is missing.
Ryder keeps his head down, but I can physically feel his faded energy. His magic wants to shudder him in and out of this setting. Would he leave us?
Leave me?
“If your pet is smart, he’ll keep his distance,” Ryder says, not looking toward his step brother.
Pet.
The word lingers between us and I stare at him in confusion until I see it.
He isn’t a man. At least, I don’t think he is. He’s fae, though. Magic fumes off of the stranger in a stench of deadly waves. The black robe skims over the dirty floor, picking up the ash and carrying it along with every hobbling step he takes. Ridges and bumps protrude from a smooth scalp. Worn skin sags against the angles of his face. Deeply etched lines cover his features. When he fully meets the dim light of the chandelier above our table, a gasp pulls from my lips.
Mangled and twisted skin is scarred over his eye sockets. Long, gnarled fingers bump unsteadily into the chairs as he feels his way closer to us.
“Traveler, we’ve been eager to introduce you to our new guest,” the woman says, standing quickly from her seat. She rushes to his side, clinging to his frail arm and leading him to my side.
A thrashing feeling shakes through me as my heart pounds recklessly for me to take some form of action. From beneath the table, I slowly pull the knife from my boot. The warm blade skims up my calf and I grip it tightly as I stare up at the fae.
“Zakara, this is the Life Traveler. He is a seer who came to us years ago,” the king says proudly.
A scoff is all that passes for a moment. Ryder’s lips twist into a cruel smile as he stares hard at the glossy shine of the tabletop.
“Had he stayed in the Hopeless realm he would have been executed. Do not pretend he came to you of his own free will,” Ryder says, glaring across the table at Tristan.
Heavy, rasping breaths shake from the Traveler’s dry lips and he raises a single hand. A gray rotting color tones his flesh, and knobs of bone protrude from his arched fingers. My eyes close tightly as his fingertips meet my pale hair. A burning smell wafts through the air as the frayed edges of his heavy robes rub across my cheek. The closer he comes the stronger his magic feels. It strikes right into my body with stinging pain. It’s a sweeping current of power that steals my breath away.
Then he’s gasping with pain. My eyes fling open to find Darrio clasping the Traveler’s thin wrist. Whisking white smoke fumes from Darrio’s hand.
“Do not touch her.” An unspoken threat blazes in his beautiful gaze and my chin rises a little higher as the Traveler lowers his hand. I don’t know if I have an ally in Darrio but it does appear that way. And an appearance is all I have right now.
The metallic hilt of the knife cuts into my palm as I grip it tighter and finally stare up into the Traveler’s face. His shoulders shake slightly and his eerie face tilts toward me. It’s as if he can feel my gaze on his slick and scarred skin.
Who did this to this fae?
And more importantly, why?
The warmth of Darrio’s palm slips over my knuckles as he pulls the knife from my hand.
When the Traveler opens his mouth, my skin crawls, wishing to inch away from this man who isn’t a man at all. He’s more of a shell of a life that’s breathing down on me, drenching me with anxious nerves.
“I feel it in her,” he says in a rattling voice that circles the room like a winter breeze. His head tips back as his body begins to tremble. “Power rages through her. I can see her clearly in my travels.”
A scraping sound startles me from his coarse sounding words.
I glance to the head of the table and Tristan is standing now, staring down on me like I’m a fortune he can’t afford to lose. Then I see it. A metallic glint at his waistband catches my eye and power definitely rages through me now.
Fury like I’ve never felt before stings my nerves, making my fists shake.
At his thin little hip sits my father’s blade. My only inheritance I’ve ever had rests against his hip as if I didn’t sail into this hellfire land with it in my hands.
“Three Hopeless will bring us our salvation. The time has come, just as I said it would, my master.” The way the Traveler says ‘master' makes more anger flood my chest, but then he says something that halts everything. My whole world stops and comes crashing down when he says, “She is the salvation. She is the Eminence. I am sure of it.”
All the anger in me drains at the sound of his words. My attention swings to the fae who brought me here. Ryder’s shining blue eyes hold my gaze with a look of awe. His full lips part on a breath but no words come out.
Everyone stares down on me, their gazes feeling heavy on my slight shoulders. I can’t seem to look away from Ryder or his gentle eyes. I can’t even catch my breath so I just keep looking to him for some kind of assurance.
He’s the type of person who could say anything and I’d believe it. There’s a defined confidence in him that makes me believe every word he says.
I need him to say I’m not what they say I am. I need to hear him say it.
His quiet words don’t bring me assurance, though.
“Shit. You’re the Eminence.”
Chapter Five
Chemistry
I’m not the Eminence. I don’t think someone with that title is allowed to be as big of a fuck up as I am. There should be some requirements. Some sort of past experience. Eminent training of some sort involved. Eminence boot camp, maybe. My qualifications just aren’t there. Maybe I’m just a temp.
Ryder’s cryptic words from when we first met echo through my mind:
The Eminence is said to be the most powerful Hopeless in the entire world. Someday, the Eminence will come and it’ll either rain wrath on this already demolished world, or it’ll restore it to the beauty it once was.
A shaking breath leaves me as I reject the responsibility of that title.
Tomorrow. Tristan said we’d discuss my future tomorrow.
A stream of denial accompanies me all the way back to my room. My steps trail after Darrio’s, one after the other in a nice repetitive form but that’s all they are. My actions aren’t thought out for once. I can’t calculate anything around me. My mind is a stuttering carousel of one word and one word only: Eminence.
“Are you alright?” A voice like warm hot chocolate sinks right into me and brings my attention back into focus. I drag my gaze from the black dust coating the hall floor to heavy boots, fitted dark jeans over strong thighs, lean hips and a broad chest. Tendrils of a black beard shadow his strong jaw, a stark contrast to his pale, troubled eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asks once more and it’s then that I realize we’ve stopped walking and he’s opened my bedroom door. Daxdyn peeks up at us from his spot on the floor. He’s slumped down at the foot of my bed and exhaustion lines his beautiful face.
“What’s wrong, my pretty little human?” Darrio asks in a whisper. His eyes harden with concern and more hesitation than I’ve ever seen him hold. He slowly brings his hand to my hip. From that simple touch, tingles spread through me, right to my core. The warmth of his palm seeps right into my flesh, almost pushing out the building anxiety I’ve felt since the moment we stepped foot onto this hellish island.
His gray eyes are locked onto mine, and for a moment, I just s
tare at him. How did I ever let myself become so weak around Darrio? I hate the way it feels. I hate the way I want to just lean into him and let him take care of me.
No one takes care of me but me.
I almost consider lying to him. I could push a fake smile onto my lips and tell him everything’s okay. I could easily say I’m just tired. I’m not feeling well. I’m fine.
But I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want to lie to Darrio.
“If he believes I’m the—” It’s hard for me to say the word out loud, but I force it out. “Eminence, he’ll hurt me. He’ll use me, Darrio. Do you understand that? Don’t trust him.”
Don’t let him hurt me, I want to scream. But I don’t. I won’t. Asking Darrio not to trust him is the most I can manage.
How much of what Darrio’s doing is an act and how much of it is real?
His head tilts a fraction, his eyes studying me and the minimal information I just gave him. An odd feeling of fear begins to trickle into me. What if Darrio doesn’t care about who I trust and who I don’t? My word means nothing in this kingdom.
The sweep of his thumb across the fabric of my dress, firmly over my lower hip bone, holds my attention. It sends goosebumps over my skin. With the smallest of movements, he traces circles over my hip as he appears to think.
Then he nods, just a short jarring of his head. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
Again, he takes in every detail of my features.
“Okay. If you don’t trust him, then neither do I. We just have to keep up an act for a little longer.” The tone of his voice drops to a promising whisper. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
My heart melts; right through my chest. It’s pooling into a pathetic, sappy puddle at this man’s feet. All I want to do is throw my arms around him and wrap every inch of my body around every inch of his.
I smother the feeling out and cross my arms safely over my chest as I nod almost carelessly.
“Good.”
A smirk pulls at the corner of his lip, making me want to kiss him there.
“Good.”
And like two associates coming to a professional agreement, we end the conversation. It’s ended with heated gazes and tingling feelings that I might never admit to.
Darrio glances back to Daxdyn and his lips pull into a low frown.
“Take care of my brother, okay?” The warmth of his body brushes against mine, his hard core lining up with my soft curves. He leans into me and I study his lips closely but he doesn’t close that frustrating distance between us.
“I think Dax can take care of himself,” I say.
That thin line that’s covering his lips stays stern.
“Good night, Kara,” he whispers, his big hand trailing across my abdomen as I walk into my room, leaving him in the dim hall.
The door pulls shut behind me and I listen intently for that little clicking sound of the lock turning in place.
An odd peace settles in me once I hear it. A sense of safety fills every fiber of my being from that tiny little sound.
The size of the room makes the man before me look insignificant. The balcony doors are still open, just as I left them hours ago. And, strangely, Daxdyn is still in his boxer briefs. His pale shoulders hang low as he sits on the dirty floor at the foot of my enormous bed.
Dark lashes flutter as his cloudy gray eyes meet mine. There’s no happiness in them. His eyes hold an emptiness that I’ve never seen before.
Slowly I make my way toward him, lowering myself to my knees. The hard floor bites into my skin but I can’t seem to notice anything but the look that’s lining this man’s beautiful face.
“Daxdyn, what are you doing?”
Did they do something to him?
Fear and anger burns through my tight chest.
If they hurt him, I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all.
“I’m fine. Just tired,” he whispers in a shaking voice.
His hand rises until his finger skims up the curve of my knee. His touch ignites that feeling all through my body and I lean into him.
I don’t believe a single word he just said, but I can’t bring myself to contradict him.
So I don’t say anything. The soft blankets meet my back as I slump down next to him. His arm slips over my shoulders and he holds me to him, his fingers trailing little paths along my skin. Gently his lips brush against my temple and my eyes close on contact.
I hold a breath within my lungs and I let the details of the night fall away as I bask in the faded calm that Dax gives me.
Some time passes before his fingers skim the underside of my thighs and he pulls me up to his chest. I settle into his body as he carries me to the soft bed. The warm blankets seclude us and his hard body never leaves me. We lie carefully side by side, his shoulder against mine, our thighs neatly touching.
The familiar smell of smoke clouds my thoughts as sleep begins to pull me under.
A strong arm pulls me against his side and I burrow my head into the nook of his shoulder. There’s something about being manhandled in a bed that wakes up every part of your body. Energy swirls tightly in my core, sparking within me.
A comfortable silence passes and just when I’m about to drift to sleep again, he speaks.
“You know, you don’t have to pretend like you haven’t slept with Darrio.”
My eyes fling open. It’s like his empathic emotions can’t feel the churning of awkwardness within me, as if that feeling has never existed in him in his entire life.
“What makes you think I have?”
His fingers begin to drift along my arm, sending goosebumps across my flesh.
“The chemistry between you two is almost combustible.” His words aren’t spoken with jealousy. It’s just a statement to him, but it does seem to be something he’s thought a lot about.
Chemistry? Is that what he’s calling the love- hate tension Darrio and I have?
I don’t even know how to respond, but I try.
“I wish I could explain it. Darrio isn’t that terribly likable.” And yet, he is in a way. My gaze meets his, finally; the pale light in the room seeps into his features, washing out his coloring.
Laughter rumbles through his chest, shaking into me until a smile pulls at my lips.
“That’s what sucks about it. He’s an asshole and still you’re drawn to him. It really kills my ego, just so you know.”
His tongue rolls across his bottom lip as he smirks down at me. His light eyes shine, making him impossibly sexier. I love his happiness and it soothes me just seeing his smile again.
“Aww, do you need me to stroke your ego, Dax?” My palm skims across the cut lines of his hard chest, tracing his pectorals with a daring finger.
“I don’t need your pity strokes.” His teeth sink into his lower lip as he bites back a smile. His heated eyes study my features, his gaze falling to my mouth before he pulls me closer and presses his lips to my hair once more.
Warmth spreads all through me and for an instant I hate myself for making our relationship harder than it has to be.
I should tell him he should leave. Our friendship feels shaky, like at any moment we both might teeter over the edge into something more sinfully complicated.
Neither of us speaks. We ignore the tension that fills my nerves. We ignore the way he makes my heart calm just from his presence.
We ignore every emotion that screams at me to be heard.
I need Daxdyn and I can’t screw up any more than I already have.
Chapter Six
Freedom and Vengeance
Warmth surrounds me when I wake. My eyes refuse to open as I just settle into that content, calm, and safe feeling of comfort. My palm lightly traces the cut lines of Daxdyn’s smooth abdomen and his hand is pressed to the center of my back, holding me against the side of his body.
Rough fingertips skim up and down my arm, making me crazy with the minimal contact.
“Wake up, my human,” a deep voice whispers in a
rumbling tone.
My lashes flutter and I glance up to see Daxdyn’s serene face. His lashes shadow his high cheekbones and even breaths leave his parted lips.
He’s still asleep.
Shit, he’s still asleep.
My eyes widen as I turn in Daxdyn’s arms to see Darrio resting with his back against the glossy headboard.
“Good morning.” His dark brows raise but he doesn’t say anything more.
This looks bad. I should explain. I should say something.
Nothing but heavy emptiness clouds my thoughts.
“He okay?” Darrio asks, nodding to his brother who’s half-naked at my side.
That’s what he cares about. He cares about his brother. The rage Darrio always seems to hold isn’t in his eyes when he looks at his twin. Right now, all he has is … worry.
“He seems alright. He looked worn out last night.” I pause trying to understand what I’m missing. “Why did Tristan refer to Dax as the aggressive one?”
Darrio’s eyes flicker to the open balcony door. Warm water colors of pale orange and yellow splay through the dusty room. The light beams off the only clean surface; the bed frame.
“A story for another time, my human.”
My eyes narrow on him but I let it go.
“Does he want to see me already? So early?” I turn; Daxdyn’s hand rests against my stomach now as I face his brother.
Darrio sits with his long legs crossed, his dirty boots resting atop the twisted white sheets.
“No, no one’s awake yet.”
A line creases my brow as I stare up at him.
Footsteps fall heavy against the hardwood floors and I sit up slightly to see Ryder standing in the doorway. His brows rise as he looks at the three of us lying in the enormous bed.
For a second I consider telling him there’s room for one more but I bite my sarcasm back.
“There are other mortal women, you know. You guys don’t have to crowd just one.” Ryder smirks at Darrio but he doesn’t return the humor.
Damn it, I should have said it! The one time I try to be the adult in the room and I miss my moment to torment him.
