Dawn till Dusk: An Urban Fantasy Romance (Genesis Crystal Saga Book 1)

by Becky Moynihan

  But, now that the room had grown silent, one problem glared at us—besides being locked up with no explanation. The lights. Whoever installed them had a cruel sense of humor. The wattage was so high, we had to squint or close our eyes. Looking directly at them caused an instant headache. And the noise they gave off. A high-pitched whine, like a mosquito.

  The sound was slowly getting to me. Two hours ago, I’d started chewing on my nails. Now there was nothing left to chew unless I wanted bloody skin. I contemplated doing that when a faint hiss filled the room. I jumped to my feet and strode to the door, relieved that someone was finally letting us out. What had happened out there?

  But the door didn’t open.

  As I stared holes into its steel hide, my eyelids drooped. Jolting upright, I snapped them open, but they quickly lowered again. Panic swamped my mind. Blood pounded in my ears. I raised bleary eyes, sweeping them over the room’s occupants, and my insides froze. All twenty-three men were sleeping. Some lay on their cots, some propped against the walls—a few were even bent in half, foreheads pressed to their knees.

  A groan slid from my numb lips. Numb? Crap. I was going to pass out and I couldn’t reach my cot in time. I took a heavy step forward anyway, then another. And, as my eyes rolled upward, the glaring lights finally switched off.

  —

  Freezing water splashed my face.

  I gasped instinctively, then coughed as the liquid speared down my throat. When I opened my eyes, they took several seconds to focus on my surroundings. The room was stark white and small, barely big enough for the cot I lay on. I flexed my arm muscles, straining to lift my hands, but they refused to cooperate.

  A moment later I knew why: my arms, legs, and torso were strapped to the cot. Someone cleared their throat. I whipped my head to the left and there stood Mordecai, an empty glass in his hand and a gloating expression smeared across his face. “You were out longer than I anticipated. Thought you could use a refreshing wake-up call.”

  At his sneer, my blood simmered and my mouth started flapping on autopilot. “Thanks, but maybe next time let’s try lemonade, just for fun.”

  The scar on his cheek puckered. “I’ll consider, if . . .”

  He let the sentence hang, and since I didn’t have anything better to do, I played along. “If what?”

  “If you cooperate.” He set the glass down on a tray situated behind him. Other things lay on the tray too, but he moved, blocking my view.

  I allowed the corners of my mouth to tip up before replying, “Well, from where I’m standing—Oh wait, I’m lying down, that’s right. From where I’m lying, strapped to a cot, I don’t seem to have much choice.”

  His nostrils flared ever so slightly, like he was trying to stay calm but impatience was leaking through the holes in his body. “Your limbs might be tied down but your tongue is not. If the words out of your mouth prove to be useful, I might allow you to keep that foul thing when all this is said and done.”

  I leaned upward an inch, the only wiggle room I had. “Maybe you should tell me what this is all about first.”

  He paused, gaze roving my face, then reached behind him and picked up an object. Despite my best efforts to play it cool, my heart hammered wildly.

  “All in good time, Tarik Hail. I’m in no rush.” At that, he held up the object, its silver length flashing brilliantly under the harsh fluorescent lighting. My heart almost gave out then. A scalpel. The devil was holding a scalpel. He gingerly touched the blade’s sharp tip, saying casually, “Why, are you? Is there a certain someone you wish to see?”

  I sealed my mouth shut. When I did, his blue eyes glittered. “That’s what I thought. But there’s a price for your silence.” He lunged forward and grasped the hem of my shirt. With one long stroke, the wicked blade cleaved the linen in two. Peering down at my exposed chest, he tutted. “So many scars. The stories they could tell . . .”

  An uncontrollable tremor shook my body as he continued to inspect my skin, like I was a slab of prime meat. I half-expected him to poke me, see how juicy tender I was. Through clenched teeth, I snarled, “I’m glad you’re enjoying the view. I didn’t think you swung that direction.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Funny you should mention that.”

  He grabbed the waistband of my pants and got to work cutting the material from my body. My chest heaved as I struggled to inhale air, scared witless that I was about to be castrated. I mean, he was evil, but was he that evil?

  When he was done, leaving me naked and vulnerable before him, he carefully returned the scalpel to the tray. “Now that I’ve taken your pompous Fae dignity, maybe your tongue is feeling a little . . . freer? What do you say, Tarik?” He crossed meaty arms over his chest, clearly pleased with his handiwork.

  Shame washed over me as the room’s stale air fanned my exposed flesh, but something else washed over me, too. Something far stronger. Determination. This madman would not break me no matter what he had on that tray, no matter how much pain he inflicted on my body, because one thing was crystal clear in my mind.

  If I broke, Reagan would pay the price.

  Didn’t mean I couldn’t take Mordecai on a joy ride, though. I licked my lips. “I’m feeling free all right. Free as a bird. But since I plan on telling you everything I know, why don’t you start off this little love fest with an explanation? Because this wasn’t in the job description.”

  He considered me, humiliated me by raking his gaze down my body, then up again. “You know what’s pathetic about you Fae? You have such a glaring weakness. It’s why you don’t deserve to be in power. Shifters carry their strength within them, but your kind? You rely on a hunk of rock.”

  I remained silent. Maybe he’d reveal his plans and maybe, just maybe, I’d live long enough to pass along the information. Mordecai picked up another object, this one easy for me to decipher. The syringe was pumped full of green liquid, and he flicked the needle.

  “I’ve never been good at the injection part. I always miss my target,” he mused. Heat lapped at my skin and I couldn’t stop myself from jerking against the constraints. He looked at me and smiled, that hideous scar stretching his grin a mile wide. “This here will tell me all I need to know about you. What you’re made of. Still, I would have liked to know what your intentions were toward my daughter. She says thank you, by the way, for rescuing her.”

  Rage was a live wire in my veins. I pulled against the straps that held me prisoner. He knew. Of course he knew of the rescue. But what had Reagan told him? She said I’d been right about Mordecai, but a part of me wondered if she truly believed that. I hadn’t apologized for how I’d treated her the other night, when I’d called her a little clone and cruelly kissed her. What if she took her hurt out on the Fae in return? What if she said we’d been the ones to beat her and Mordecai was only messing with my head, trying to get a confession out of me?

  My thoughts whirled as that needle lowered toward my bicep, as the tip rested on my skin. “Any last words?” he said, grabbing hold of my arm.

  “Screw you,” I whispered.

  His top lip curled, revealing a row of gleaming teeth. “Then let’s begin.”

  He plunged the needle into my flesh.

  I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I nearly missed the tiny blond Fae waving up at me from the ground. When I focused on him I realized he wasn’t greeting me, but beckoning. His eyes rounded as I landed, taking in the full size of my lion form. I dwarfed him; he didn’t quite reach the top of my legs.

  “Whoa,” he whispered.

  I shifted, crossing my arms over my chest. “Hey, Benji. I’m Reagan. But I feel like you know that already.”

  The little Fae nodded, hiding his eyes behind his hands. That Fae modesty starts young, I guess. He peeked out long enough to say, “Tarik says you’re not like the others. He says you want to help.”

  I knelt so I was closer to his height. “He’s right. Is something wrong?”

  “I have friends who want to meet you. Don�
�t worry! They’re friends of Tarik’s too. They said to tell you they want to help you. We haven’t . . .” His throat bobbed, his small smile falling. “He was supposed to say hi yesterday, and he didn’t. We’re worried he’s in trouble.”

  My eyes widened. The timing was convenient. With everything going to hell, this could very well be a trap. Yet, when I looked into the child’s deep brown eyes, I could see the sincerity. And children, they could sense things. He would know if this was a setup.

  Hopefully.

  “All right, Benji. Take me to your friends.”

  Benji extended a small hand, passing me a blindfold. “You have to wear this. Sorry.”

  I pushed down my hesitation and secured the dark cloth over my eyes. While I was fairly certain the Fae weren’t aware of Mordecai’s experiments, I couldn’t imagine they would have sought me out if they didn’t have any information.

  The small Fae gripped my fingers in his, leading me along a twisted path that looped past alleys filled with rancid-smelling trash and divets that caught the toe of my boots. I couldn’t track where I was being led but I understood the caution.

  Idle thoughts filled my mind in the easy quiet. I didn’t know how much time the captured Fae had, and the thought of Mordecai torturing Tarik . . . I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached. Mordecai would have his sadistic idea of fun with Tarik.

  Fun.

  My stomach flipped, a shudder racing up my spine.

  “Are you okay?” Benji asked.

  “Yeah, fine,” I lied.

  He stopped abruptly, and I worried he was going to ask more questions until I heard a soft, rhythmic knocking. A code? Silence fell, quickly broken by a soft click and the squeal of a door hinge. Whispering filled my ears. Warm breath hit my neck and I recoiled.

  “Gaia . . .” a voice muttered beside me. I felt fingers brush across the dragon brand and tried to hold steady—I didn’t want to scare them. A lump formed in my throat. My hands shook. They were asking a lot of my trust.

  I was tugged forward a few steps. A door closed, several locks clicking behind me. I stiffened.

  “Night Enforcer, I’m going to remove your blindfold.”

  White light filled my vision and I blinked several times, trying to adjust. When the starbursts cleared, I scanned the room around me warily. We were in a Fae apartment, or so I assumed from the rampant similarities to Tarik’s own. They hadn’t furnished this room beyond a table and smattering of chairs; several of which held men I had never seen before. Large, intimidating Fae men who looked like they were itching for me to step out of line.

  One—tall with blond hair that fell into his face—stared at me with an intensity that made me want to flee. But it was the dark-skinned Fae behind him, with muscled arms as thick as my legs, that gave me the most pause. I swallowed, inhaling a shallow breath to calm the panic fogging my mind.

  They invited me here.

  I’m safe.

  I’m not afraid.

  My legs still burned with the need to move. Run. Shift. Ignoring the latter was the hardest, especially as my mind replayed the snap of my arm breaking. Pressure grew along my spine and I took a deeper, steadying breath. Shifters had done that to me. My own people. Not Fae.

  I wondered how much time needed to pass before I would feel comfortable surrounded like this again.

  Mentally, I shook off last night’s horrors and cast another look around the room. A few of the seated men were rubbing at their necks, holding their gazes pointedly above my neck. Another fair-haired Fae, one with thin-rimmed glasses perched on his sunburnt nose, cleared his throat uneasily.

  Clothing! I should have dressed. But even in their discomfort, their eyes never completely left me. Watchful. Distrusting. I couldn’t blame them.

  “Reagan!”

  I knew that voice. My head whipped to the side and I stared, incredulous. “Nevaeh?”

  She moved, scooping me into a hug before shoving a pile of clothing toward my arms with a pointed look.

  I blinked at her slowly. “What are you doing here?”

  Nevaeh’s glance flitted to the Fae around her, resting on a golden-skinned Fae with spiked black hair who had finally switched his attention from me—to her.

  “I . . .” She looked at the clothes I hadn’t taken and nudged them toward me again. “You should get dressed first.”

  “Right—”

  “Fae modesty,” we murmured together.

  The corner of my lips twitched, even as I studied her nervous expression. Nevaeh was never nervous. I slipped into the ripped black pants and cropped band t-shirt—and could actually feel the tension level lower. Over bare skin. Ridiculous. I couldn’t resist smiling.

  “Nevaeh, I don’t understand. What is—” I gestured to the room, stumbling on my words.

  Instead of answering, she looked to the middle-aged Fae standing beside me. He was handsome, with bright blond hair and a warm smile. For a split second my attention snagged on the laugh-lines that edged his sparkling blue eyes. His mouth twitched in amusement. “Welcome to the Fae Rebellion, Night Enforcer.”

  “Reagan is fine,” I murmured. My eyes shot around the room again, pausing on each form. Fae Rebellion?

  What did I walk into?

  “I’m sorry, Reagan,” Nevaeh said. She fidgeted with a loose thread on her shirt. “I wanted to tell you. I really did. But I couldn’t.”

  “That’s right,” the man said. “She’s a good little spy and has never once ratted us out.”

  Nevaeh snorted. “That joke does get old, you know.”

  Several of the Fae snickered. I tried to gauge the room. Despite the tension, the joke had set them more at ease. This didn’t feel like a newly established group. Nevaeh jabbed me in the side, narrowing her eyes in concern.

  “Sorry, I’m—” I considered the right word to use. “Surprised. I guess I didn’t really know what to expect when Benji approached me.”

  “Understandable,” the blond Fae beside me said. He had to be in charge. “We don’t exactly broadcast our organization. You can call me Rebel Leader, by the way.” He winked and a few of the Fae chuckled.

  When he stuck out his hand I hesitated, then accepted the offer. His grip was firm as we shook and I said, “Nice to meet you.”

  “Don’t worry.” He smoothly released his grip. “We don’t bite. Well, except Nevaeh maybe.”

  My eyes fell to the crescent mark on my arm and my eyebrow lifted at the irony. But I said, “I guess the biting falls more in my domain, huh?”

  “As a rule, yes, but some Fae have fetishes of their own.” His broad smile dimmed a little. “But let’s get down to why we asked you here. Our little spy brought us word of your father’s new Fae employees. Is the information accurate? Are they under quarantine lockdown?”

  “Actually, that’s why I was so eager to accept your invitation.” I swallowed and met his inquisitive stare, the words flowing before I could filter them. “Mordecai is claiming they’re under quarantine, but that’s not the case at all. He has terrible plans and I . . . I need help.”

  Rebel Leader glanced at the other Fae men in the room, silently communicating, then scratched his chin. “I’m listening. Tell us what you know.”

  My heart pounded against my ribs. I took a steadying breath. Treason. This was treason. Once I told them what I knew, there was no going back. If I told them Mordecai’s secrets, I was firmly taking a side. Good or bad.

  I blinked slowly. For a second, the only thoughts that fluttered through my mind were of one Fae in particular. Of the scars that littered his body, the damaged wings he was forced to hide, the silly blush that climbed up his neck whenever I was around . . .

  I told them everything.

  Every detail of what I had seen on that locked computer, a brief description of the mansion’s layout, including the mines; anything and everything I thought might be relevant. The words spilled from my lips. Toward the middle of the story, Nevaeh’s hand gripped my arm. I kept talking. When I finish
ed, my gaze fell to the floor. Even though I knew I had made the right decision, my chest was heavy. I was still so worried about backlash and betrayal. From both sides.

  When did I become so afraid?

  Rebel Leader regarded me with kind eyes, as though he could read my thoughts, but a calculating light shone behind them. He rubbed at his chin a second longer, then motioned to Nevaeh. They must have done this routine before because she turned to me, gently drawing me into a corner as Rebel Leader moved for the other Fae.

  While they quietly conversed, Nevaeh picked at my hair and blew out a gum bubble. When she started to braid the blue and black strands together, I batted her hands away.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Trying to comfort you. You look stressed.”

  “Yeah, maybe a bit.” I narrowed my eyes. “I just found out my shifter best friend is spying for the Fae. Even after all these years of warning me to be careful.” Nevaeh winced a bit but I added, “How long have you been a spy? Are you keeping anything else from me?”

  Her nose twitched. “Three years. And no, nothing else. I wouldn’t have kept this from you if I had a choice.” She glanced over her shoulder. “They’re a good group. And smart. Some of the brightest minds I’ve ever met. They might stand a real chance.”

  I stared at her, stunned into silence. She met my eyes for a moment and whatever she saw there made her sigh. Her fingers never stopped moving, braiding my hair, strand over strand, despite my protesting swats. Then there were footsteps and Rebel Leader peered over her shoulder, shaking his head in amusement at the braids.

  All he said, though, was, “Table, please.”

  Nevaeh’s hand slid to my arm, dragging me along to a chair and pushing me toward it before dropping into the one alongside. That golden-skinned Fae fell into place on her other side. I shot him a glance and he offered a small smile, his eyes landing on the galaxy tattoo that swirled up my arm.