Oricus’s smirk was as cold and dark as the evil bastard’s soul. If he even has a soul. “You say that like I care.”
Rex snarled, lunging forward. A blue light shot from his chest, but Oricus dodged it easily. His grin widened. The sick fucker loved confrontation. The thrill of a fight and the possibility of bloodshed, even if it was from his own.
“We’re not going to fucking rape her, you asshole!” Rex bellowed, his voice reverberating around the hall.
Tadaj and Darrow grabbed his arms, trying to haul him back, but he was too wound up. Pulling himself free, he sent a menacing look over his shoulder.
Oricus straightened his gaudy “princely” jacket, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. “Is it rape if she begs for it, hound?” he asked in a low voice. Before Rex could answer he continued. “Had you been around Miss Marks more than a handful of times, the bond would have pulled you both together, making it nearly impossible to resist. We thirteen have been in close proximity for many moons now, and while we feel it stronger than she does, she undoubtedly feels the struggle to resist. She is pissed, but that can be sidestepped.”
“How?”
Oricus’s lips split wide, his teeth flashing razor-sharp as the beast that lurked beneath his skin. “She’ll be kept down here, locked up where she can’t escape or hurt anyone, including herself. We will make regular visits to…make her options a little clearer. She can rot in this cell if she chooses. But I assure you, hound, she’ll beg before too long.”
His satisfaction was evident as he started to walk away.
Rex’s jaw ground tightly. “That’s coercion. Of course she’ll do whatever it takes to get out of a fucking cell. And Harlow is the most willful woman I’ve ever met. Chaining her up is only going to make her hatred stronger.”
Oricus didn’t pause, only saying over his shoulder, “She doesn’t need to be in love with any of you idiots to fuck you. After all, she didn’t love my brother when she sat on his dick.”
Rex felt a primal growl rumble in his chest at the mere mention of Arian. The others remained silent, none of them protesting the use of Stockholm syndrome to get what they wanted.
He shook his head, looking around at each of them. “It won’t work. She’s too strong for that.” He wasn’t sure if he was stating his case in hopes that they’d help change her fate, or if he was simply warning them.
“We’ll see,” Rasimus purred, his gaze moving to the door. Maybe he could see through the wood to the woman kept asleep by Rex’s magic.
“She’ll remember that we were good to her. We protected her. We listened to her and took her on dates. That has to count for something,” Exalicur said, his voice sounding far too hopeful.
Rex snorted. “We took her from her mate, stripped her of that bond, forced her to bond with not one, but twelve men she hated, and we took away her mortality without even asking her if that was what she wanted. I wiped her memories and we all tried to manipulate her. No, she won’t just forget any of that.”
“Don’t go getting a conscience on us now.” Lefayon chuckled, his stupid fucking cigarette still dangling from his lips. “You wanted her to be yours and we made that happen.”
“I know that,” Rex snapped. “But she was supposed to never remember the past. I still think I should try to wipe her memories again.”
“Oricus told you no,” Darrow barked. “Besides, she’s like you. Her mind can only be accessed so many times. We were lucky it worked as long as it did, ta be honest.”
“It’s this whole bullshit with Viktor,” Kel added. “If he hadn’t gotten himself bitten by the one deadly thing in existence, we’d have all claimed her last night like we’d planned.”
A groan came from Arodis, who looked at the locked door with a tortured expression. The feeling seemed to pass through all of them. So close. They’d come so close.
The next time Rex saw her, she’d look at him the same way she had in the throne room when it all came back to her.
Like she’d happily fillet him alive and feast on his innards.
He grimaced.
“We can’t stand here or one of us will end up breaking down the door and doing something they’ll regret,” Lefayon said, levelling Rex with a pointed look.
After a moment of hesitation, most of them pulled away from the wall and started down the hall. Rasimus clapped him on the shoulder, but Rex shook him off.
He let his back hit the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Harlow might hate him again, but he’d be damned if he let her wake up to anyone else.
HARLOW
Slowly consciousness seeped back in, and immediately she wished it hadn’t. Her body ached, her wrists especially. They were bound together, the bite of metal cutting in below her thumbs. Awesome, this feels familiar, she thought bitterly. The pounding in her head dulled to a throb before her eyes had even opened, though she was acutely aware that there was no soft mattress below her. It was hard, cool stone.
She shivered so hard her bones ached. When she opened her eyes, her vision blurred, and she blinked several times to clear it. A groan escaped her as nausea hit her like a ton of bricks, her stomach churning.
“Don’t try to sit up yet,” a familiarly warm, male voice said, though it was muffled, which meant he wasn’t in the room with her. Well that’s a plus.
She held still, breathing deeply to calm the spinning. Her eyes opened once again to dull light filling the tiny room she occupied. Boring grey stone walls surrounded her, and a matching floor which she was curled up on.
The material that was draped over her legs shifted when she twitched, falling away below her knees, and she shook again. Her arms were bare too. Looking down at her chest, she noticed the stunning black-and-white gown she still wore, and she couldn’t help but scoff.
“Couldn’t have at least given me a damned blanket? Don’t I deserve that after all this bullshit?” she called, pulling herself up to a sitting position. The chain dangled from her bound wrists, clinking.
Silence.
She shook her head, chuckling mirthlessly as she got to her feet. The chain allowed her only two steps, which wasn’t near enough to the door. She yanked on it hard, the sharp sting of pain in her wrists a welcome sensation to the growing ache in her chest.
“Move,” she heard from the hard, cold voice of Oricus. A fiery rage erupted so hot in her chest, her vision edged with red.
But the swirling well of magic she’d come to recognize inside herself was absent. Harlow glared down at the manacles binding her. No doubt they were made of some kind of magic-deadening material. She was on Scondelade, Arian’s home. He’d said the planet was superior in technology to Earth, so capturing magical beings and taking away their power made sense. It didn’t matter. She’d find a way out of this predicament.
“She’s not ready to see you yet. If you go in there, you’ll only make it worse.”
This time the muffled man’s voice from before became clear in her mind—Rex.
“No, no, please. Come in here, Oricus,” she taunted loudly. “After all, I’m nothing without my magic, right? Just a weak, pathetic mortal. Oh that’s right, I’m not! What exactly was in that blood cocktail you injected me with to make me your mate? Some Hulk juice? Am I going to turn into the Hulk? Because I’ve got to say that’d be pretty freaking sweet.” Did she sound like a rambling madwoman? Pretty much. Did she care? Not in the slightest.
After another moment of silence, the sounds of bolts clanging echoed in the tiny room. Then the door slid open, and Oricus-fucking-Kalvar stood in the doorway with his smug-ass smile.
His fox-like eyes raked her up and down, seeming to enjoy the sight of her in chains.
“Welcome to my humble abode, asshole.” She gestured to the room to welcome him inside, though there was hardly enough room to gesture to.
Rex appeared behind him, looking almost apologetic. Out of everyone else in the castle, he was the one most likely to help her escape. The Rex
she’d started to know was kind and gentle. They’d twisted him somehow. It wasn’t until Oricus had captured her that he’d become violent with her. Maybe they’d given him a nice bloody cocktail too. Though the memory physically stabbed at the inside of her skull when it surfaced, she recalled Rex transforming from beast to man.
Her eyes locked on Rex. “You’re one of them too. You can shift.” But wait. Did that mean—
“As can you,” Oricus said, unruffled by her revelation. “However, the rest of us were forced to transform because of the curse placed on us. When Rex discovered how to remove the compulsion to turn at the waning of the moon, we were all freed. You were gifted with immortality, incredible strength, and speed as well as your beast form, but you’ll have to coax it out yourself. I have a feeling the Marking ritual would force your beast to break free.” His eyes glittered. “And I can’t wait to see what your animal looks like.”
The words were heavily suggestive, sensual in a way she’d never heard from him before. Telling her he planned to fuck her was one thing, but it seemed intimate for him to look upon her beast form for the first time. Both of those things were never going to happen. She’d make sure of that.
“In your dreams,” she snapped, reflexively tugging on her chains.
Oricus lifted a brow, taking a lazy step closer. One more and she could reach him. But he stopped, giving her a knowing smile. For a moment, his eyes roved down to her heaving chest, then lower to her wrists, bound in silver.
His hand snapped out, too quick for her to block. It wrapped around her throat and he drove her back against the wall, her toes skimming the floor, the breath leaving her body in a rush. With his other hand he grabbed the chain holding her manacles. She was completely at his mercy, though she struggled anyway.
“Now,” he said calmly, “I’m going to give you ten minutes to air out all of your grievances before I give you a mind-blowing orgasm.” Just as spots began to color her vision, he released her. Harlow sagged against the wall, panting to catch her breath. “And go,” he ordered.
“Fuck you,” she snarled, lunging for him.
He dodged her easily, the chains catching her with a loud clang. Pain shot up her arms. Oricus stood a breath out of reach. So close she could smell him, and a tiny, minute part of her ached to be closer for a different reason. She quickly pushed that ridiculous notion aside and straightened.
He consulted his invisible watch and smirked. “Nine minutes and thirty seconds.”
“I’m not playing your game. I will never let you touch me like that. Arian is my mate, not you.”
The smile fled, and his face was suddenly right in front of hers. “Get it through that thick, pretty head of yours. My brother gave you up. He let me win. You’re nothing to him.” Violence danced in Oricus’s grey eyes. Like a brewing storm about to lash from the earth to the sky in deadly bursts of lightning.
“You severed the bond! He probably thought I was dead!” Harlow pulled harder, metal biting into her wrists and causing blood to well on her skin, but she ignored the pain.
Oricus barked with cold laughter. “Do you know what I did when my Slevana died?” he asked, his nose brushing hers. The spark of connection sent a chill racing over her skin and raised the hairs on her arms. “I spent every second of my existence avenging her death. I destroyed my brother every way I could. Until you came along. Then I took the only glimmer of goodness he possessed, and I made it mine instead. Because that’s what you are, Puppet: you’re mine. You will remain bound to me and the others for all time. And my precious brother will spend eternity watching you come to grips with that fact. He’ll watch you fall for us. Each night when he closes his eyes he’ll be forced to imagine you being fucked and sated by your true mates, knowing his time with you was nothing more than a flicker that will fade away until he’s all but forgotten. Only me and my brethren will remain, carved inside your soul for all to see. I’ll make you my queen and we’ll rule this planet and every other the way we were meant to.”
She was stunned by his words, held frozen by the vehemence in his voice, yet the passionate care he portrayed as he nuzzled her throat and skimmed down to the scars over her chest—put there by him—was almost adoration. If she didn’t know better, that is.
The scars burned at his touch and she reared back, desperate to put space between them. The haze of longing that had clouded her senses began to dissipate. She swallowed hard.
But the look of triumph was already plastered on his cruel face.
“I’m not your plaything, Oricus,” Harlow warned, her voice sounding far calmer than she felt. She was bound in magic-dampening chains, locked away in the tiniest little room with nothing but a square box that she had to assume was a toilet. Oricus was her enemy. They all were, and she’d have to fight the Mark with everything she had so as not to succumb to it.
She glanced back at Rex, who stood in the doorway, his jaw hard and eyes a dark ocean blue. The only clue that he was something more than he’d been when she’d first met him.
Oricus tsk-tsked, smiling wide and revealing elongated canines. “Yes, you are. But I made you my equal by granting you immortality without being enslaved to any curse. Arian would have kept you a weak, pitiful mortal. And once your brief life was over, he’d have gone on fucking every other female he could get his hands on.”
Anger shot through her, red-hot. “Because he hates that he will live forever. He’s sick of it. He wants to die, and I was going to help. We were going to die together after spending as many years together as we could. You took that from me. From both of us.”
He bared his teeth in a wholly animalistic way, causing Harlow to stagger back a step. “You’d have sentenced us all to death!”
She leaned forward as far as the chains would allow and whispered, “Villains shouldn’t get to live forever. That’s what you are, Oricus. That’s what you all are. Villains.”
His tumultuous gaze fixed on her, holding her captive while her heart beat frantically. “Yes, Miss Marks, I am a villain. I’ve never pretended to be anything different. But my brother has. He parades himself around as a hero, but his criminal empire is just as big as mine. His wealth was paid for in blood, the same as mine. What kind of man sits back and watches his home become enslaved, refusing to do anything about it? What kind of man lets his enemy put a collar around his neck? And what kind of man murders innocent women in cold blood just to further his own agenda? At least I fight for what I want.” His last words made his eyes flash a molten silver, and Harlow’s breath hitched.
The way he stared at her made her think it wasn’t Scondelade that Oricus was talking about.
“You can’t win against her,” Harlow said simply. “Arian has tried. If he’s given himself over to her, it must be for a reason. He never does anything without a plan.”
Oricus scoffed. “Like all the times he made your parents move, or when he killed them and tried to kill you just to keep you away from me?”
A choked noise vibrated in her throat. “What?” The accusation was so vile, Harlow yanked on the chains so hard that she felt blood trickle down her forearms and drip to the floor. “How could you even try to spin it that way? The car accident wasn’t his fault, it was—”
Oricus interrupted her, irritation coating his every word. “The accident was staged. You were all meant to die. Your sister too. When he realized the two of you were still alive, he dragged you from the vehicle. Surely, you at least remember that.”
The memory surfaced fast and brutal, like a tidal wave crashing into her.
All at once she felt the seat belt across her small frame, her sister’s hand in her own as her parents argued in hushed whispers. Even the words she managed to make out didn’t make any sense. They’d just said that they were going to go stay up north in a cabin.
Big, fat snowflakes fell hard and fast outside the window. Harlow watched them, trying to take her mind off the fact that her parents were fighting again. They seem
ed to be doing that a lot lately. And their arguments seemed to be always connected to her somehow. The way they looked at her like she might be dangerous. Even her sister seemed weary.
Mary squeezed her hand, offering her a tight smile. “We’re gonna have fun, Harriet,” her sister assured her. Harlow—Harrietta as she was born—nodded.
“Max!” her mother screamed from the front seat, and Harlow’s gaze snapped to the front, outside the window where a massive black bear stood in the middle of the road. Her father slammed on the brakes, but it was already too late.
Their car hit with a crunch that Harlow felt through her entire body. They were flipping, and someone was screaming. Maybe it was her. Something hit her thigh and the crack stole her breath.
She squeezed her eyes shut until everything finally stopped moving. Slowly, she peeled her eyes open. The ground was above her head, white and soft.
A groan came from her right and she turned as much as her neck would allow, wincing when pain stabbed down it. Mary’s face was splashed with red, her arms dangling above her, but her eyes remained closed.
Harlow glanced to the front seat, panic swelling in her chest. Her parents were motionless, their bodies contorted at weird angles.
“Momma?” she said. Tears began to well in her eyes. Were they okay? Why weren’t they moving.
A creak turned into a loud groan just beside her, making her whirl. The pain that shot through her leg drew a scream from her lips. She looked down. An odd lump stretched her skin and her jeans were ripped. She was examining it, unsure of what she was seeing, when the door suddenly flew off its hinges and her body was roughly pulled from the car.
A man with dark hair and green eyes looked her over, noticing her leg when she tried to put pressure on it and stumbled. He caught her and sat her down on the snow-covered ground. Flames danced and swayed from the front of their upturned car. It had fallen over the edge of the bridge, the rail crumpled and torn.
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