Chained to Darkness

by Raven Woodward

  “Whoa, guys, cool it, I don’t need any help showering. I’m pretty sure I remember that stuff, thanks.” She placed her hands on her hips to show her finality, yet she couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to have one or more of the men washing her body.

  She took an unsteady step toward a door straight ahead.

  “We’ll leave you to freshen up,” Oricus said. “One of us will stand guard outside your door at all times until you get acclimated. Just shout if you need someone to help.” They began to head for another door to her left.

  Filing out, several of them flashed her smiles that ranged from friendly to downright dirty. When only Oricus was left, he paused in the doorway.

  “Glad to see you’ve pulled through, Miss Marks.”

  His eyes dipped to her collarbone and she looked down, spying the three red scars that ran from her shoulder toward her breast. The look of satisfaction in his gaze made her stomach turn. What did he know about how she’d gotten those?

  Why did he seem proud of them?

  He was gone before she had time to ask.

  ARIAN

  He leaned over the unfurled maps, unseeing. His breathing grew more arduous as his nails lengthened, black and sharp enough to impale the solid cherry-wood table. They’d already combed every inch of the maps.

  With a snarl he tossed the papers to the floor to join the others. They fluttered to a stop on the expensive burgundy carpet in his study. Glaring daggers at the pen-marked pages, Arian began to pace yet again.

  A month since their bond had severed.

  Over a month since he’d been able to sense his Marked.

  His mate.

  Every second was agony. A stabbing pain in his chest that never eased, no matter how much bourbon he consumed.

  She’s alive, and she’s somewhere. My brother—talented at concealing things though he may be—has not made her invisible. Nor has he taken her somewhere unreachable. No, that wasn’t his style. Oricus wanted a war. And he wanted Arian to bring it to him. His brother wanted to see how taking his Marked was killing him. Oricus couldn’t observe the evidence of the horror he’d wrought on Arian’s life if he took Harlow and disappeared.

  Falling to his knees hard, he ran his fingers through the wild, greasy strands of hair and tugged. The sharp pain on his skull allowed him to focus enough to draw in a few steadying breaths.

  What a fucking mess.

  He hadn’t showered in days and hadn’t eaten in over a week.

  If he had been human, he’d be dead.

  Fuck, how I wish I was dead.

  Sometimes.

  Harlow’s bright smiling face filled his mind again, and he groaned. “Kuzukah,” he whispered.

  He wondered if she was cold wherever she was. If she was hurt. The last thing he’d felt from her was her pain.

  So much pain.

  The rising tide of helplessness drew up over him, rearing to strike. To consume him. His throat constricted and his lungs refused to cooperate.

  Gasping, he staggered to his feet, shuffling toward his cart where at least a dozen empty bottles of whiskey were tipped on their sides. A few were scattered on the floor. He fell forward with the last step, catching himself on the steel cart. It groaned under his weight as his hand shook, looking for another bottle. He picked up the standing ones, lifting them to search for even a swallow of alcohol.

  Empty. All fucking empty.

  He growled, his tight throat barely allowing the sound to escape. In his frustration he spun and chucked an empty bottle at the opposite wall.

  The crash was deafening.

  Just as he thought his strength would fail him, the door—just below where the bottle had shattered—flew open. His brother, Elentis, barreled into the room, golden hair windswept, his emerald eyes bright.

  “I think we found something!” he announced, only to stop short when he registered the look on Arian’s face. The look that suggested Arian was two fucking seconds from ripping his brother’s head clean off for interrupting.

  “You’ve claimed to have found something every other day for over a month,” Arian snarled. “Unless you’ve seen my mate with your own two eyes, get the fuck out.”

  Elentis’s jaw hardened. “I’m going to ignore your childish behavior because I know you’re in pain, so I’ll just tell you. Oricus was seen coming and going from one of the compounds we’ve been monitoring, twice in the past week. Initially we discounted the likelihood that Harlow was being held there because its security really isn’t impressive given the circumstances. But it could be that he’s hiding her exactly where we’d overlook, for such reasons. Perhaps he’s foolish enough to think we wouldn’t consider it but it’s our best bet. No one has seen Oricus since…”

  Since he stole my mate.

  Arian’s teeth were clamped together so hard his jaw ached. Oricus was clever and wily, but Arian wasn’t sure if his brother would take such a risk to try to fool them.

  “Who else was there?”

  “Geoff, but none of the others.” None of their brothers.

  Arian considered for several moments. “Were you able to track Oricus’s location anywhere outside of the building?”

  Elentis shrugged. “To a few of his known weapon and drug warehouses. The ones we blew up, to be exact.”

  Arian blew out a breath. “All right, we’ll plan a full raid. I don’t have time to waste. I should have gotten her away from him a month ago.”

  REX

  Even from the other side of the compound he could smell her. Or maybe her scent was on him somehow and that’s why he couldn’t seem to rid his senses of her. Either way, it was damn frustrating.

  The pull to go to her and claim her was even stronger than it had been before her memories had been removed.

  “Stop pacing like some sort of caged animal,” Rasimus growled from his spot near the door. His arms were folded across his chest, and though his expression was relaxed—neutral—his posture was anything but. Every inch of his giant stature was tense.

  “Just as soon as you stop guarding the door like a damned dog waiting for its master.”

  Rasimus stormed across the room until he was towering over Rex, who didn’t react, droll expression fixed in place.

  “I am no one’s dog. I answer to no one,” Rasimus said in his low, brutish way.

  “Sure.” Lefayon snorted, leaning against the opposite wall and observing in that unnaturally still way of his. “You made your choice, same as the rest of us, rodnay bret.”

  Rex had heard some of the original clan speaking their otherworldly language long enough to know that meant brother.

  “Enough,” Oricus barked as he strode into the room.

  Rex stepped toward their leader. “Why doesn’t she remember anything? Her memory is completely wiped.”

  Oricus’s shrewd gaze was filled with amusement. “It was your magic that wiped her memory. How should I know why she doesn’t remember you?”

  “I need to try to reverse some of it.”

  Oricus chuckled, the sound like divine darkness. Rex couldn’t pinpoint why he thought the dude was so scary, he just did. There was something in his eyes that was haunting. “You’ll just have to woo her all over again.” Oricus’s smile was cold. “It’s only fair that she be on even ground with all of us anyway.”

  Rex scoffed despite the warning bells tolling loudly in his head. “Don’t pretend you care about anything but punishing Arian. She means nothing to you.”

  “Watch yourself, Morovitz,” Rasimus warned.

  Rex wasn’t sure about the Viking brother either. Yeah, he was built like a tank and could probably crush skulls with his thighs, but he was unfailingly loyal to Oricus. So why was he so concerned with Harlow all of a sudden? There was no denying that each of them felt something for her. The strength of their bonds to her would only grow. And when completed, they’d be tied to her irrevocably. Which was why Rex didn’t understand how so
many of them had not only been willing, but had volunteered.

  Their leader had only offered the bond to his ten closest men—the ones that had watched her and knew her from afar. Adding Oricus and Rex made twelve. Twelve mates. Rex’s transformation had been done with just Oricus’s blood, but when it came to it, Rasimus had made a fuss about wanting his blood included in turning her immortal. Which started a chain reaction. And reluctantly, he agreed.

  Oricus’s smiled curled into a sneer. “I don’t have to care about the girl to fuck her. And as soon as she’s recovered enough, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing.”

  Rex looked at the other men. Besides Viktor, who was an enigma to everyone, he knew that the men who’d signed up for a lifetime bonded to Harlow didn’t view her simply as revenge. And though Oricus would never admit it, that wasn’t all she was to him either. He could have thrown her in the dungeon and tortured her for decades. But it was one of Rex’s main sources of entertainment to wind him up.

  Fenris rushed into the room, nearly knocking into Rasimus, who’d resumed his post by the door.

  “What is it?” Oricus barked.

  “You said to inform you if your brother’s clan got close to the base. Two men were seen spying not far away—”

  Oricus waved him away. “They’ve not made it past the border. Unless Arian himself is marching on our doorstep, leave me be.”

  Fenris looked around at those gathered in the room. He nodded once to Oricus, bowed, then swept out of the room with far more grace than he’d entered.

  “You really aren’t concerned that they’ve gotten close?” Rex asked skeptically.

  “Should I be?” Oricus asked, running a finger over the golden frame surrounding a warped mirror. “They’re your wards after all. Without understanding the secret of them, he’ll never discover our true location. Isn’t that what you said, Morovitz?”

  Rex gritted his teeth. “Completely.” But he also knew that Arian would never stop searching. He’d raze every planet in the galaxy until he found her.

  His only solace was that Harlow would have no idea who Arian was if he did find her.

  HARLOW

  The bathroom was illuminated with the same large cylinder filled with what looked like slow-dancing flames her room had been lit with. She stared at it, transfixed, before taking in the bathroom. The walls were stone, but they shimmered as though infused with diamonds. Harlow gaped, somehow knowing that this was not normal. She felt certain she’d have remembered a bathroom like that.

  Everything inside was state of the art with an automatic toilet that flushed only once it no longer detected your heat and body weight. After stripping bare, she stood looking into the shower cubicle in search of a knob or a dial to turn it on. She wiggled her toes against the warm stone. Neat. A black panel that resembled an iPad was attached to the wall right outside the door. Approaching it, she bit her bottom lip. When her hand lifted to touch the screen, it lit up and a warm, female voice spoke, “Quer. Flerjuva ji klair ë’gorreka?”

  “Uhh, what?” Harlow said.

  “English detected,” it chirped. “Would you like to save this setting?”

  She blinked at the device. “Yes?”

  “Your language preference has been recorded. Hello. Would you like a shower?”

  Harlow nodded, then pinched her arm, certain this was a dream. First twelve hunky men that wanted her, now a talking shower? This can’t be real life. The pain, however, was very, very real.

  “What the—” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that. Would you like a shower?” the voice asked.

  “Yes, please,” she answered.

  “Would you like salt water, fresh water, or pH-balanced water?”

  Harlow’s mouth fell open. “Um, just fresh is fine.”

  “And what temperature would you prefer?”

  “Okay, am I being Punk’d or something? What’s going on?”

  The chamber was quiet for a moment, and then, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What temperature would you like?”

  Harlow narrowed her eyes, looking around for a camera. “I don’t know. Warm, not hot.”

  “Okay,” it answered cheerfully, as though her answer was pleasing. “Would you like to add pure rose oil? There are seventy-eight oils to choose from and fifty-nine cleansing soaps.”

  “R-rose is fine.”

  “Thank you,” the voice replied, and a stream of water poured directly from the ceiling. A light coat of steam began to fill the room, and the glass door slid open.

  Too stunned to think twice about it, Harlow stepped inside. The warm water smelled of roses, warm, tiny droplets hitting her skin.

  After a while the voice reverberated through the room again. “Would you like me to dispense shampoo?”

  Harlow frowned. “Uh, sure.”

  “There are twenty-three types of shampoo. Would you like—”

  “Just pick one,” she interrupted. “I have slightly frizzy hair.”

  There was a pause, and Harlow wondered if she somehow hurt the shower’s feelings.

  “Dispensing,” it chirped.

  The water that soaked her hair was bubbly and smelled of a floral mixture. Harlow scrubbed her scalp with it, savoring the silky feel it gave her hair. When the water ran clean, she rinsed it out and said, “Conditioner too please?”

  “Certainly,” the robotic woman responded.

  Though it was bizarre, Harlow spent a fair bit of time in the shower before the woman asked if she was done.

  When she stepped out, the air was warm, and she was greeted by a fresh, plush towel hanging from a rack that slid out of a slit in the wall. Harlow took it and the rack receded back into the wall. She dried off, wondering if the room was truly automated with motion sensors or if someone else was watching her.

  She went back into the main room and to the double doors, preparing to open them when they swung open on their own. Harlow leapt back, a scream lodged in her throat. Multiple racks spun with glittery gowns and undergarments in silk or lace, ranging from sexy to not-enough-fabric-to-cover-the-important-bits.

  After a moment, the racks stopped on a glittery purple gown that looked to be crafted purely from amethysts, and violet silk bra and panties that were the most modest out of every other pair. She took them off the rack hesitantly and changed into them, running her hands over the cool gems. The fabric was soft, but tighter than she’d have liked, hugging her every curve.

  Now that the closet was no longer animatedly showing off the contents, she began rifling through, touching all the different fabrics and elaborate dresses to see if any sparked a memory. If anything, they looked foreign and strange. She loved clothes and fashion, but there was no way she’d owned anything so elegant or extravagant.

  Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember anything she usually wore.

  It was frustrating to be surrounded by items she couldn’t recall. The room, the place, wherever it was, was unfamiliar. There were also twelve infuriatingly sexy men somewhere outside her door that all claimed to know her.

  To own her.

  Yet beyond the glimmer of familiarity she’d experienced with only a few of them, they were strangers to her. She’d just have to discover who each of them was. But first, she needed to know where she was.

  Which started with venturing out of that room.

  When she started for the door she’d seen the guys exit from, it slid open. A large, muscular, shirtless man stood in the doorway, and her mind went blank. His dark hair fell over strong, bare shoulders that led her gaze down his solid chest. Was it normal to have that many abs? Lower still her eyes drifted, snagging on the bulge in his trousers. She swallowed hard and heard the man chuckle. Her cheeks heated when she glanced up to find him smirking.

  “Like what you see, pet?” he asked in that low gravelly voice that seemed to rumble through her entire body, making her core heat.

  There it was ag
ain—the word that stroked a place in her mind that she couldn’t seem to reach.

  Her brow creased as she tried desperately to snatch at whatever memory that word was attached to. Failing, she glanced back up. “I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names. You’re…?”

  He cocked his head as though trying to decipher something. Before she could manage a step back, to put distance between the two of them, he stepped closer and placed a hand on her cheek.

  The heat of his skin and the intoxicating scent of him made her forget why she’d wanted to move away in the first place.

  “Rasimus, love,” he answered, though she’d forgotten that she’d even asked a question. It was impossible to think with so much raw man before her. “I can think of a few ways to help that stick.”

  She licked her lips, trying to ignore the way Rasimus took in the action with a heated expression. This close, she could better see the thin scar that ran from his eyebrow to his cheekbone, silvery against his deep olive skin.

  Trying to clear her throat, she managed to rasp, “And what ways could you help me?”

  His grin was arresting and cruel, yet entirely sensual. Leaning close so his lips tickled the shell of her ear, he whispered, “I’ll bury my face between your thighs and make you scream my name until you remember it.”

  Her breath caught, her skin pebbling.

  When he leaned away, his grin was gone, leaving only a hardness that she couldn’t place. “I came here to inform you that I’ll be teaching you combat skills.”

  She found her voice immediately. “What? Why?”

  Raking his gaze down her body yet again, he said, “A tiny thing like you should know how to defend herself.”

  Though he towered over her by nearly a foot, she knew—somehow—that she was not small. She folded her arms over her ample chest, though it only served to push her breasts further up, nearly spilling from the low neckline. “I am not tiny.” She was slender, yes, but not helpless.

  In an instant she was spun around, both her arms bent behind her back. The burn cleared through her lust-filled haze enough for her to grit her teeth.