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

by Becky Moynihan

  “Akeno,” he said, extending his hand behind Nevaeh.

  I shook it. “Reagan.”

  “Oh, we’re doing introductions? Hi.” That large, dark skinned Fae dropped into the seat beside me, dark locs streaked with amber tumbling over his shoulder. “I’m Caspar.”

  My smile was genuine this time, surprised that the massive Fae studied me with warmth in his amber eyes; a softness and kindness that was so at odds with his intimidating frame.

  “We have a lot to discuss,” Rebel Leader said, gesturing for the other men in the room to join us.

  I sat on the edge of my chair, trying to hide my nerves, but a Fae dropped into the seat across from me with a thump and a glare. He shared Nevaeh’s light brown skin, his hair rich and sandy blond, close-cropped to his head. His eyes were unwavering, lasered onto mine.

  “Don’t mind Flynn. He enjoys being a complete creep. We think he’s overcompensating for something.” Caspar chuckled, leaning across the table to slug Flynn’s shoulder. The man didn’t break eye contact with me, stiff as stone.

  Rebel Leader waited patiently while the others settled. He opened his mouth to speak, but was abruptly cut off.

  “I’m starved. Can we eat while we talk? Listening to you all yammer always makes me hungry.” The Fae near the end of the table clapped his hands together twice. “Sebastian, fetch us some food.”

  The long-haired Fae who had been watching me before pinned a glare on the disruptor, but tipped his chair back and left the room anyway.

  “My apologies,” Rebel Leader said, looking to me. “My twins have apparently decided to act like beasts today.”

  “And everyday,” Akeno said.

  Rebel Leader sighed. “Reagan, this is Elias.” He gestured to the Fae with the burnt nose and glasses. “The knuckleheads at the end are Malachi and Micah.” He pointed to the twins, but I knew in a glance I would never be able to tell them apart. They grinned at me in unison, like they knew.

  “And the one who—” I pointed toward the door.

  A different sort of smile passed Rebel Leader’s lips. “My second in command, and the eldest of my four sons, Sebastian.”

  I didn’t know how I had missed the resemblances. The blond hair and blue eyes matched in each of the five faces. But I nodded, and murmured a soft greeting. Both of the twins leaned forward to speak, but Rebel Leader shook his head.

  “Focus boys, this is important.” At the twins grumbled consent he continued, studying me intently as he spoke. “I wanted you here specifically because you’ve been seen on more than one occasion with a mutual interest of ours. Do you know whom I speak of?”

  I squirmed under the circle of eyes pinned to my face. The room was suddenly very warm. “I’m assuming Tarik?”

  He nodded. “Yes. If you don’t mind the intrusion, we were all curious what he is to you, exactly?”

  Heat flushed my cheeks. How was I supposed to answer him? I was a glorified stalker, but beyond that? My eyes flew to Nevaeh who smirked and shrugged. Traitor. I nervously scanned the faces around me, watching the various flickers of amusement and impatience. Clearing my throat, I said, “Um. I haven’t known Tarik all that long. Not . . . not personally, in any case. He’s a friend, I guess. And I really don’t care to see him hurt.”

  My fingers gripped the seat of my chair. I secretly prayed the floor would crack open and swallow me whole, especially when Caspar snickered quietly.

  Rebel Leader seemed impervious though as he rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers to contemplate. “I see. The thing is, you seem to matter a great deal to him. Last night, we were told he had made plans to pay us a visit. But our sources say that before he could, he was . . . distracted. Now, if you know Tarik even a little bit, you know he doesn’t like shifters.” One of the twins—maybe Malachi—burst out laughing, but one look at his father’s stern face shut him up.

  With a sigh, Rebel Leader continued. “As I was saying, Tarik would never rescue a shifter, even one being beaten to death. So the fact that he saved you, especially given who you are, says a lot. Simply put, his actions tell us we can trust you. And so, if you’re making plans to rescue him, we are at your service.”

  They were mistaken. The moment he had said I mattered to Tarik, my mind filled with images of that kiss—the angry way he had pulled me from him, the harshness of his words. My rage dwindled at the reminder that he had saved me, though. And before leaving me to climb to the roof, he had paused, an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes—one I still couldn’t identify.

  My chest grew heavy as that memory faded. I lowered my eyes to the table. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “It would seem we have something in common. Can’t say I’ve ever said that to a shifter before, but there’s a first time for everything.” Nevaeh huffed. He glanced at her. “You’re a given, Nev.”

  He opened his mouth again, hopefully to lay out a ready-made rescue plan, when Sebastian came back and plopped a large round pan on the tabletop. The twins whooped and reached for the food. Sebastian whacked both of their heads and they paused, hands frozen midair. “We have a guest,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  They deflated, then looked at me expectantly. I eyed the green stuff that was smothering the accompanying cheese and red sauce. Vegetables. Nope. “Don’t stop on my account. Go right ahead.”

  “He didn’t poison the food. Pinkie promise,” one of the twins said, blond eyebrows raised.

  “I believe you. Nerves though—they kill my appetite.” Small lie. I glared at the vegetables. And a worthy lie at that.

  Caspar shrugged his big shoulders before diving in. “No problem, tiny shifter. Nerves make me extra hungry. I’ll eat your share.”

  I waved him on and watched with amusement as the twins glared daggers in his direction. The tension in my muscles had lessened, but I was still waiting for the next step. Unconsciously, I rubbed at the dragon brand.

  “Where’d you get that piece of work?” one of the twins asked. Man, they were nosier than me. “The design doesn’t really jive with the rest of your look.” Several throats cleared uncomfortably as they were no doubt remembering my earlier entrance.

  “No, this one wasn't my choice.” I coughed, trying to loosen the knot in my throat. I knew the twins weren’t the only curious ones though—all the Fae had taken turns eyeing my bruises, the unhealed cuts. “Mordecai has an interesting way of . . . claiming ownership. Even of people.”

  A fist slammed on the table, making me jump. “That sadistic piece of—”

  I looked up at Sebastian’s irate face, only then realizing how very tall he was. And how genuinely angry.

  “Sit down, Sebastian,” his father ordered, turning to me apologetically. “Forgive my sons their intrusive questions, and my own. You’re an anomaly is all. Practically the right hand of Mordecai himself and yet, here you are.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” I shrugged quickly to put them at ease. “Ask your questions. I need your trust more than you need mine, especially if we stand any chance of saving Tarik.”

  Elias watched me for a long moment as he fiddled with the side of his glasses, then nodded slowly. “I can see why Tarik likes you.” I stared at him, unsure what to make of his words. He lifted his shoulder, adding, “We all need someone who’s willing to fight for us, even on the bad days. Especially on the bad days.”

  Rebel Leader studied his son with a touch of pride. “You’re right, Elias. Which brings me to what I must ask of you, Reagan. If we are to successfully rescue those trapped Fae, we need your . . . special talents.”

  “I’ll do anything,” I said quietly. “I know the reputation I have with the Fae, but I need you to know that I’m not what I’ve been trained to be. I want to help your people, not harm them.”

  He leaned back in his chair and smiled slowly. Uh oh. What had I volunteered myself for? “I’m glad to hear that, because this is what I need you to do . . .”

  “All right, he’
s under. Start the procedure.”

  The foggy words came from down a long tunnel, distant, echoing. Ghostly. My body floated on nothing, my mind losing touch with reality. The pain washed away, replaced with sweet, calming peace. I wanted to stay here forever, escape the guilt and suffering that living etched on my soul.

  At first, the tug bordered on pleasant, careful and controlled. When the incessant tingling between my shoulder blades started, I was almost distracted from my blissful peace. But I slowly adjusted to the sensation and drifted off once again. Then a loud rip, followed by splintering agony, destroyed my world.

  My mind screamed, raking at my brain. Demanded I join the living and save myself.

  I don’t want to. I inwardly curled into a ball and did my best to ignore the frantic shaking, the yelling, the pleas.

  You’re dying! my mind whimpered. Fight back!

  I shook my head. No. Living is too painful. I can’t bear it any longer. The world is better off without me.

  You’re a selfish coward. What about those who need you?

  I thrashed, trying to dislodge the plaguing voice in my head that never rested. “No one . . . needs me.”

  “Hold him down!” a female barked.

  “I’m trying! He’s fighting the anesthesia!”

  Wait. Anesthesia?

  My mind stilled as that word sunk in deep. Don’t move.

  “Are we good to go now?” the female asked.

  A pause, then, “Yes, he’s fully under now. Proceed with the wing experiment.”

  A beat took up residence in my skull. A shrill whine in my ears. My wings. Gaia help me, they were not going to touch my wings. For once, my mind and I completely agreed. When I rejoined the living, I became aware of hands on my shoulders and spine—prying, digging, searching . . .

  They were trying to pry out my wings.

  I exploded.

  With a flex of my shoulders, my wings snapped straight. The action felt like a thousand needles impaling my back. I almost went under again. But at the shrieks of surprise, my body tensed, ready for more.

  You’re the master of your pain.

  Fight back.

  As my eyes cracked open, slowly sweeping the pristine white medical room, I whispered, “Always.” And unleashed myself.

  Or at least, I tried to. The dismount from the examination table was wobbly at best. My legs felt strange as I balanced on them, like they weren’t mine. Like I was in a different body, actually. I glanced down at my still-naked form and frowned.

  I didn’t used to have a six pack.

  My gut roiled. Had they transplanted my head onto someone else’s body?

  Pounding feet came from the hallway and several shifters barged into the room, sliding to a halt at the sight of me in all my glory. I almost struck an Alec pose but didn’t have time. They were already swarming—guards and doctors and nurses alike formed a loose circle around me.

  “Let me guess,” I slurred, my tongue dry and heavy. “This can go down the easy way or the hard way? Because I’ll tell you now, hard is what I get when a pack of shifters surround me.” At that, they all looked down at my—I rolled my eyes. Idiots.

  I launched forward, promptly stumbling against an exam table and knocking over a tray of shiny objects. Objects that they were using to pry out my wings. Rage, familiar and welcome, bubbled up my throat and I roared at them all. Those dressed in white paused, the whites of their eyes rivaling their smocks.

  Gaining momentum, I flapped my wings sharply. The noise distracted them as I pretended to take on the three guards. But, as they settled on their haunches and I brought up my fists, I veered toward a lone doctor blocking the exit.

  A female. Her garb spattered in bright red blood. My blood.

  I let out a war cry and charged, watching her face leach of color and her limbs lock up. I didn’t hesitate. Bowled her over with a single shoulder strike. Her high-pitched shriek as she smacked against the white tile was a beautiful song, ringing in my ears as I burst through the exit and into the hallway.

  Freedom. So close. I breathed in the stale air with relish. But, as I bolted for the stairs that would take me up and out of this hellhole, I slowed at the sight of that still-locked “for emergencies only” room. Fae stick together. The loyalty was ingrained in me, even though I’d wrestled against my nature for three solid years.

  These Fae had helped me save Reagan from being beaten to death. They didn’t have to. But they did. In return, could I really leave them here to suffer a cruel and twisted fate?

  Hissing a curse, I skidded to a stop in front of the steel door, and with my new arms—densified with corded muscle—I yanked at the handle. The door held fast. I could hear shouts now and scrambling footsteps. I was throwing away my chance at freedom as I continued to pull and kick and curse.

  But I couldn’t leave. I would never forgive myself.

  “Tarik Hail.”

  At the sound of my name on that demon’s tongue, I shivered. Maybe I should have run, because now . . . now . . .

  “Give up, boy,” Mordecai said. From the corner of my eye, I saw him raise a black object. “That door only opens for those who know the code. Not even your full Fae strength can break through.”

  Full Fae—

  Something stabbed my neck and I jerked back, bringing a hand up to find a dart lodged there. I pulled the point free and blinked, the hallway already darkening. “Crap, not again.”

  I groaned as the world turned black.

  —

  Burnt coffee. Toast. Cinnamon.

  The smells swirled around me, tempting, coaxing me to leave my dark haven. I stopped breathing. Because the next time I opened my eyes, I knew who would be there.

  “I know you’re awake, so you can stop faking.”

  I exhaled through my nose and squinted up at a hovering Mordecai. Smoke puffed from his mouth as he flicked ash from his cigar onto my chest. “No, thanks. I don’t . . . smoke. It’s a . . . n-nasty habit.”

  He peered more closely at me. “You know what’s a nasty habit? Irksome Fae screwing with my plans. The more you cooperate, the less painful this will be. But since you seem to learn things the hard way . . .” He wiggled a ring off his finger and inspected the face, then showed the design to me. “Beautiful, wouldn’t you agree? A dragon’s eye. Always watching. All-knowing.”

  Bringing his hands together, he pressed the cigar’s orange glow against the ring’s grooved surface. In the silence that followed, my trepidation grew. The ring shone brightly as the gold heated, hot enough to—My chest heaved. Reagan’s raw and blistered neck, branded with a dragon mark, flashed in my mind’s eye.

  “I’ve been curious how you found out about my daughter’s mark. But if you won’t tell me how you know, then you’re leaving me no choice. Shifters don’t help Fae, but you know what? I don’t want a dirty Fae helping my daughter, either. May this be a reminder that you are nothing more than property under my watchful gaze.”

  Mordecai casually stuck his cigar between his teeth and grabbed my wrist, twisting until the sensitive inner skin faced upward.

  “Any last words?” he mumbled around the cigar.

  I breathed in deep, preparing myself. “Yes, actually.” He paused, the hot ring inches from my flesh. I could feel the warmth and my muscles trembled. “I only have one thing to say to you. Suck my—”

  He thrust the ring onto my skin, pushing, pushing, pushing, until I thought the metal would burn a hole clean through to the other side. My fingers formed claws as I fought against the urge to scream my pain and fury. The vinyl straps holding me down flexed and creaked, groaning as I pushed upward.

  Mordecai leapt back, eyes wide. For a glorious moment, stark fear bleached his face. He quickly smoothed his features, dropping the ring onto the tray behind him, but it was too late. I had seen. I had scared the stupid piece of filth.

  I started laughing, low and half-delirious as the pain from the mark pulsed with a second heartbeat. Whatever had been done to me, what
ever they’d injected me with, made me physically stronger. And the substance was green. Not green like grass, but green like—

  Emeralds.

  I laughed harder.

  A loud clank from the ominous tray quieted my outburst, and I blinked up at a seething Mordecai. How mad would he have to be to unleash his inner dragon? I wanted to poke him some more and find out.

  “Whatever you’re doing to me, you might want to stop. I’m gonna bust out of these restraints any minute now.” As if to warn him, I jerked upward again. The straps across my shoulders squealed as they stretched thin.

  His jaw slackened; the cigar fell from his mouth. Then he raised a trembling arm. My gaze slid up the sleek tattoo curling along his skin to what lay clutched in his hand. My mind blanked. His lips curved wickedly. “Go ahead. Break free. Let’s see you walk away from this.”

  And he brought the silver hammer down on my knee.

  The world splintered, stealing my breath and sanity. I screamed, spine arching off the cot. Hot and cold currents streaked through my body. Bile filled my mouth, choking me. Then he shattered my other knee.

  I wanted to die when the hammer snapped my left leg bone in two. But, for once, I didn’t pass out. I felt every single hit. Every break. Heard him snap bone after bone, until my strength was crushed. Until I was a shivering heap of blind agony.

  Until I was nothing more than a piece of property under his watchful gaze.

  The sky had fallen dark only an hour ago, but I had begun my patrol early. Made sure Alec, spying from a distance, saw me circle the area and fly back for The Pit. I landed long enough to prowl and act generally threatening, making sure the shifters saw that I was on patrol. Every step was part of the carefully laid plan.

  Adrenaline buzzed in my veins. The thunder of my pulse was almost loud enough to drown out the steady rhythm of my wings. So many people would die if we failed.

  I can’t think like that. We won’t fail.

  My eyes were locked onto the mansion as I made another round. The light that glowed from Mordecai’s room unnerved me. He was usually asleep by now.