They went down, his body covering hers, their heavy breaths mingling as he glared down at her. “All hail the new big bad witch of Scondela—”
Viktor was ripped back, a roar shaking the room. Harlow jumped, spying the rage on Rasimus’s face.
His fist impacted with Viktor’s face, making him stagger. “You fucking piece of shit! You just led her right to us!”
Viktor spit blood onto the floor, his body trembling violently. “I didn’t say the whole word. She’s a sorceress! Something about her makes me forget myself!” He pointed an accusing finger at Harlow, and she jumped to her feet, wondering what the hell was going on.
“What did I do?” Her heart galloped like a thousand pounding hooves. “What did he say?”
“It’s the bond, dumbass,” Rex snapped, rushing into the room to grab Harlow’s arm. So much for being busy with something else. She shrugged off his grip just as Koen, Kel, Darrow, Tadaj, Lefayon, Arodis, Xalicur, and Geoff poured in. Her heart constricted, their close proximity making her lungs tight. She felt the final piece nearing. Her eyes focused on the doorway as Oricus finally swept into the room.
Cold grey-green eyes assessed her before locking onto Viktor. “We’ll have less than a tide’s length before she makes her move if she was alerted to our location.” He stalked through the others, who made way for him like soldiers obeying their commanding officer. “Thanks to our resident jackass, we’ll all be on constant guard starting now. I’ve already moved the archers, so the border is on full watch. As most of you know”—he gave a pointed glance in Harlow’s direction—“over the past few weeks we’ve had several intruders trying to breach the wards, but unable to figure out how. The Empress will not be fooled.”
Everyone looked to Harlow, making her skin prickle with awareness. “The Empress?” she asked.
Oricus didn’t bother to look at her when he answered. “Let’s just say it’s best if the two of you don’t meet for as long as possible. Particularly not today.”
“Her magic seems to have crawled out of whatever hole it was hiding in,” Rasimus informed the others, looking every inch the warrior ready for war.
She couldn’t see Oricus’s face while he was turned away, but his head bobbed in a small nod.
“We can all smell it,” Geoff quipped.
Oricus smirked at her over his shoulder. “Not to mention the damage done to the floor. Certainly reeks of Miss Marks’ handiwork.”
“You would know better than I since all of you apparently remember me with my magic at full capacity.” Her tone was snide, but she didn’t care. She cocked out a hip for emphasis.
He ignored her, instead barking commands at the men around her, driving the temperature of the room up. “We can’t stay in this enclosed space. Too small for fighting. Go to the main hall. I’ll take Harlow elsewhere to try to throw them off.”
Grabbing her by the forearm, he hauled her out after the others and marched her down the hall winding through the castle. To his chambers.
“Isn’t it smarter to stay with the others? What if whoever is coming goes straight for you? It’s just the two of us.”
Oricus chuckled darkly. “The assassins she’ll send will hope to avoid me. They grew up hearing stories about me and my brothers. I’m the nightmare that haunts their dreams. Everyone knows I’m the scariest monster on this planet.”
His words struck a chord within her memories, and they played back like a strange echo. I am the thing monsters fear, Ms. Marks. The voice she heard didn’t match Oricus’s but she couldn’t place it.
She stumbled, suddenly feeling light-headed. Oricus tugged her upright, pushing her up the winding stairs in front of him. “No time for fainting,” he hissed.
She snatched her arm out of his grip and marched up the stairs, trying to ignore the way everything swayed around her. “I wasn’t going to faint.”
“You forget that we’re bonded. I can’t tell what caused it, but you’re fatigued. Don’t worry, Puppet, I’ll lay you down on my bed once we get there. Perhaps then I’ll get a taste of that sweet pussy Xalicur keeps sighing about.”
Harlow’s heart stuttered in her chest. Picking up her speed, she felt his eyes glued to her ass and shot him a glare over her shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten your voyeuristic ways, asshole. Did you find a way to watch us that day too? Get used to it because it’s as close as you’re getting to fucking me, ever.”
Her back hit the wall; Oricus captured her hands with one of his own and lifted them above her head, his hard body pinning her in place. Including his erection, which pressed into her belly. “I’ve been patient with you, Puppet, but I’ve never been known to remain so for long.” He rolled his hips lower, grinding his hard length against her core, and her traitorous body answered with a pathetic whimper that she wished she could collect from the air and shove back down her throat. “Before this ball, you will be mine completely.”
The ball.
“That’s in three days!” Harlow gasped. Oricus rocked into her again, the friction on her clit making her ache.
His head lowered until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Then you better make peace with the idea,” he whispered, then nipped at the sensitive flesh.
A breathy sound escaped her. She tried to wiggle out of his hold, stilling when he ground his length on her harder, a growl shaking his chest.
“This game has been fun, but none of us can hold on forever. Deny it all you want; you’re wet and panting for me already.”
He wasn’t wrong, but regardless, she yanked her hands free and pushed his solid chest. He leaned back, smirking with satisfaction. She realized he hadn’t moved because she’d made him. He didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do, it seemed. And his words—coupled with the way he looked at her when she turned to jog up the rest of the stairs—made it clear that he wanted her.
He’d have her, whether she wanted it or not.
But damn her, she did want him. She wanted all of them. Even Viktor, despite the prick he was.
She’d made it to the door at the top and was reaching for the handle when arms banded around her waist and yanked her back, just before the thorny vines covering the door shot out. Oricus spun, putting his body in front of hers. A startled scream caught in her throat. He didn’t so much as flinch when the vines impacted with his back. A series of creaking groans rang before settling into silence. Finally he spun to face the door, pushing it open as though nothing had happened.
“What the hell?” Harlow snapped accusingly. “They didn’t do that last time.”
“I ordered them to only allow me access,” he said nonchalantly, pulling her into the room by her wrist before slamming the door closed behind them.
She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. His room looked exactly as it had when she was in it last—except for the stack of pictures on his desk. Now there were stacks of papers, strewn across the top. The strange mirror was turned upside down, only the ornately detailed gold frame visible.
“So how long are we supposed to wait up here?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Until we know whether she is going to send any of her soldiers.”
Harlow lifted a brow at him as he went to the window and peered between the curtains.
“I didn’t take you for the type to sit back and let others fight your battles.”
Straightening, Oricus met her gaze, his own filled with cruel amusement. “You’re a greater fool than I thought if you think the fight won’t make it to us.”
Goose bumps broke out over her skin, and she rubbed her hands up and down her exposed arms to warm them. “So what now?”
He stalked to his desk, sank into his chair, and pulled a stack of papers toward him. “Now we wait.”
Harlow huffed, plopping onto the edge of his bed. “How exciting.”
“You are welcome to sort through the monotonous paperwork for this ruddy ball,” he replied scornfully.
She leaned fo
rward, attempting to peer around him. “Any juicy pictures mixed in there?” she asked wryly, fully knowing she was provoking him.
Oricus paused with his pen poised above a paper awaiting his signature. “Any images I keep of you are my business.” He smirked. “Even the ones of you masturbating in the shower. You are mine and it is my job to protect you.”
She bristled, glaring daggers at the pompous man before her. It didn’t matter that she thought the idea of him watching her was hot. “We’re mates, but I don’t belong to you, as I’ve said before. We don’t even know each other.”
He whipped around in the chair, capturing Harlow by her throat, his face inches from hers. “I know you far better than you think,” he snarled. “And you are mine. You cannot change the fact that you are my Marked. You will always be my Marked because neither of us can die. I know where you were born, I know your parents’ names. I know where you used to live, what you used to do for a living. I know your passions and who your best friend is. When you cum, I know all your whimpers and moans, as well as exactly how you like to be fucked. I know that just one man would never satisfy you on his own. You crave the attention of all twelve of your Marked and I know that tomorrow night when we all line up to fuck you, you’ll scream for more even when your body is too exhausted to take it.” He released her harshly and she gasped. Her mind didn’t comprehend anything beyond the words parents and sister.
“My-my parents? My sister?” Reeling, she leapt to her feet. “You haven’t mentioned any of this before! Where are they?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Oricus growled, rising to his feet as well, staring her down with pure hatred in his eyes.
“Yes it does!” She launched her fist at his face, determined to smash the loathing from his irritatingly handsome features.
“No, it doesn’t,” he bellowed, grabbing her shoulders and holding her just out of reach. “It doesn’t matter because they’re all dead. It’s better you don’t remember any of them. Don’t you understand that this is the fresh start you needed?”
A burning sensation started behind her eyes, blurring her vision. She stepped back, forcing him to release her. “It’s my past,” she muttered, shaking her head. “My family. You don’t have the right to keep any of that information from me.” A damning errant tear escaped, scalding her cheek, and she brushed it away. “It’s not fair that I can’t remember anything about myself before a few weeks ago. Where did I grow up? What are my parents’ names? What was my sister’s name?”
Oricus heaved a frustrated breath then scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, let’s just wait until we find out if the bitch that runs this place is going to try to kill you. She likely doesn’t know you can’t be killed yet. After this is over and after you give yourself to us, you can sit down with Rex and get all your questions answered.”
Her anger flared sweltering hot through her body. Though she fought to contain it, it felt as if something else within her raged to be freed. As if—should she allow it—her skin would stretch, and her bones would morph, releasing a monster. She couldn’t describe the sensation, but her body felt like it was on the brink of two forms. The other was massive and terrifying, promising pain. That was why she had to keep it contained, whatever it was. “Why not now? It’s not as if we have anything better to do.”
He turned to sink back into his armchair, dismissing her. “You might not, but being a very powerful businessman comes with unending paperwork.”
“Businessman?” She quirked brow. “What kind of businessman? The kind that buys up strange, enchanted castles on an alien planet to keep his Marked locked away in?”
“Amongst other things,” he answered in a flat, noncommittal tone that made her wonder if he was joking or simply not interested in revealing any more.
“Like what?” she prodded. But he didn’t respond, instead scratching his name on paper after paper and meticulously placing them in even stacks.
She strode to his left and peered down at the stack he was pulling from, to read the top. Only to see the same symbols that she’d seen before.
“What language is that?” she wondered aloud. Oricus remained silent. “Let me guess, you’re not allowed to say.”
“That is correct,” he said, surprising her.
“Am I allowed to sign any?”
He didn’t even slow his pace while handing her a spare pen. Harlow looked for the first open space she could find that seemed like it required a signature and put the pen to the paper. The instantaneous movement drawn from somewhere in her vaulted memory shocked her.
She stared down at the paper, frowning. “Do Marked women have to take their mate’s last name? How would that work with twelve men?”
A humorless snort came from her broody companion. “No, it is not customary to take your mate’s last name unless you were to marry. My…country…allows for people to marry more than one person should they choose—marriages are called honor vows here—but they don’t change their names. When a child is born to the partners, it takes the mother’s name.”
Harlow felt an oily emotion slither through her. “Will I have to share you guys with other women? Is that how this arrangement works?” Her hands went to her hips and her lip curled at the idea. She hadn’t yet sealed her bond with any of her guys, but it was undeniable that they were her guys. It was selfish, she knew, to not want to share, and she wondered if any of the guys felt the same. They all seemed so relaxed with the idea that she hadn’t bothered to ask.
“This isn’t just some arrangement,” he bit out, not looking up at her, but holding eerily still. “You’ll be pleased to know that once someone is Marked to their mate, or mates, they cannot stand the thought of another. It’s incredibly primal, our bond.”
“But will you guys have more mates? I don’t know how it works.”
Oricus swallowed audibly. “I had a Marked. Before you. So did a few of them.”
Her stomach dropped, and Harlow gripped the edge of the desk to keep herself from going wild with jealousy. What is your deal? she thought angrily. Her emotions hadn’t seemed this volatile even a few days ago.
“What happened to them?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as bitter as she felt.
He looked up then, his face filled with a rage so brutal that she stumbled back a step. “They’re dead,” he spat. The way he said it made her feel like she’d personally been responsible for their deaths.
“How?” It was little more than a whisper.
Oricus scoffed, fixing his glare back on the papers in front of him. “A man thought he’d play god and decided they weren’t worthy of living. That none of us deserved happiness.” He smiled at her, a cold, dead smile that made her shiver. “That is, until he found his Marked.”
“What—”
Her question was cut off by the sound of an unholy roar that shook the floor and the walls. Oricus was on his feet in an instant, pushing Harlow behind him while he stared at the door. The words he’d spoken to her so coldly only a moment ago was so at odds with his protective stance.
“The bitch has come to play,” he crooned.
She wanted to ask who, but before she had the chance, the window behind her shattered and half a dozen figures in slick black tunics and tight pants dove in, blades in hand.
Their faces were mostly covered by strips of fabric, save for their eyes, which were so pale they appeared almost completely white. She couldn’t tell if they were men or women, seeming to be somewhere in between with their thin, curveless frames.
A tingling in her palms alerted her to her magic, ready to be used.
The assassins didn’t waste a single second lunging forward. Oricus shoved her back, hard. His fist drove up under one person’s chin, his opposite leg catching another in the torso, sending them both crashing to the floor. One of them without a head, which thumped wetly to the floor a few feet away from the lifeless body.
Whipping around, he grabbed the third assassin by the th
roat, dodging the artful work of its blade, but only just. Her attention was pulled away by the figure that charged headlong toward her. A screech left her lips and a burst of energy erupted from her hands, which she’d held up in defense.
The assassin toppled end over end like a leaf tossed by the wind, before hitting the wall solidly and crumpling to the floor.
A hot spray of blue liquid came from her left, painting the side of her face and making her jump.
Oricus stood staring at her with gleaming silver eyes, his torso and hands coated in the same fluid. Around him, body parts were strewn like morbid confetti.
Before she could find the words to speak, another roar shook the castle. Oricus paled.
“Stay here!” he ordered, his voice sounding garbled.
“What, no! What if more assassins come?”
“You can’t die,” he gritted out before storming out, slamming the door behind him.
Her eyes swept over the carnage again, turning her stomach. The bitter smell of something metallic suffused the air and she gagged. Without another thought she rushed for the door, tripping on a body, though she managed to right herself before falling into the pools of blue that she realized must be blood.
She started down the steps, skidding to a stop when yet another bloodcurdling, beastly roar penetrated every hall.
At the bottom of the stairs, more slain assassins in black clothing littered the stone floor. She turned to head in the direction of the ballroom, stopping when a low growl raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.
There, in front of her, was a creature bigger than a bear with two massive winding ram’s horns, as white as bone, protruding from its skull. Its body was covered in thick fur, a shade or two darker than white—where it wasn’t matted with blue and black liquid. Eyes a pure molten gold, it was similar to the one that had saved her from Oricus’s men.
Her heart hammered violently in her ribcage. Searing heat that made everything sway rushed beneath her skin. She backed up against the wall.
“Oh shit, please don’t eat me,” she murmured.
Chained to Darkness Page 16
