Hearts of Darkness: A Valentine's Day Bully Romance Collection

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  But then I notice a few people darting glances at the prince, confirming that’s not the case. He’s only told them not to look—and they are listening.

  It is even worse than compulsion.

  I stomp over, all too aware that I might be signing my death certificate. The prince is growling something at the shifter and seems not to notice me, but that can’t be true. This vampire knows my scent—our altercations have probably etched it into his bones—and like all vampires, he has keen hearing.

  “Let him go,” I demand.

  “Why?” Talon drawls, not even bothering to look at me as his fingers tighten around the shifter’s neck.

  The shifter in his grasp whimpers. A pungent scent of sweat mixed with musk rolls off of him.

  Normally, I might be repulsed, but I cannot manage any emotion past the fear bubbling in my stomach. I can’t think of anything besides the horrible situation before me.

  This sort of bullying is why vampires should not have ultimate power. They are far too inclined to take advantage of it. Limitless time on Earth almost guarantees they will.

  “Because he’s under my protection.” I have never met this shifter before, but it seems that, when confronted with a surly vampire prince, I’ll adopt anyone.

  “He’s not your kind.” Talon meets my gaze. His gold eyes cut through me, daring me to defy him.

  I gulp. Will the guards actually do anything if Talon latches on to the shifter’s neck? I doubt it. They aren’t doing shit at the moment.

  “He’s under the protection of the Borges family, just like any other creature threatened by the royals of North America,” I retort, and am pleased to hear that my voice is level.

  Talon chuckles, a low, menacing sound that makes my heart rate speed up. My reaction is equal parts fear for the shifter and primal attraction for the prince, which is frustrating, but the gods know I can’t help myself.

  Talon is attractive. Only a fool would deny it. Vampires as a species have evolved to become attractive to all the other species—fae excluded. Their scent is changeable, able to morph into whatever their prey loves best. The sound of their voice is lyrical. The way they move, as sensual as water trickling down a naked body. In the vampires civilized enough to learn charm, this skill becomes yet another weapon in their arsenal. One that the royals have used to take over the world.

  It almost makes me grateful for the shadow-dwelling vampires who shun the new ways. They are cruel and more like animals, but at least they are predictable, and cannot sway me.

  The prince’s gaze turns back to the shifter. “Hear that, shifter? You’re protected by blood traitors. Do you accept their help?”

  My throat tightens. It’s one thing for me to claim someone as mine to help. It’s entirely another for them to announce that they side with the rebellion.

  I’ve trained all my life for this, and my family name holds a lot of clout. Those of my bloodline were coven leaders before the rebellion, and we’ll continue to hold up the mantle of leadership for as long as supernaturals and humans need.

  As for the royals, they know they can threaten us, but they generally steer clear from openly killing rebellion leaders. They’ve learned the hard way that those tactics result in massive uprisings—which is what happened when they killed my parents.

  A vampire prince and a princess, both newbloods, earned stakes in their hearts just a week after my parents’ deaths. A day later, one of the Tenebris’ palatial homes burned to the ground.

  Tit for tat, as they say.

  “Do you accept the help of a Borges?” Talon growls.

  The shifter’s eyes dart to me. He wheezes but says nothing. It’s obvious that he wants to accept, but the pressure against his windpipe is a hearty deterrent.

  “He need not accept,” I state, trying my best to match the prince’s haughty tone. “I claim him. In the rebellion’s eyes, we’re all the same people—even you.”

  Inspiration strikes, as what Misty told me the night before rises in my mind.

  “I realize that you’re probably not used to such treatment,” I continue. “Being here in your father’s stead.”

  I pause when Talon’s eyes shoot up to meet mine. They are round, as if I have discovered a great secret.

  So, the rumors are true. My shoulders soften slightly. His father is truly cruel.

  “However, I assure you that the assumption of equality is how many people operate, vampire.”

  Talon’s gaze drops, and a soft gasp leaves the shifter’s throat as he pulls air into his lungs.

  “Is it, now?” the prince drawls, his words cocky although his tone is more thoughtful than before.

  I nod.

  All around us, everything seems to still. Not that people have been moving about much. All throughout our standoff, hundreds of eyes have been watching us—waiting to see what round two of Tenebris-versus-Borges will hold.

  The air vibrates until the hairs on the back of my neck lift. Talon’s hungry gaze locks with mine, neither of us yielding.

  For a moment, I’m sure that I’ll have to press my new angle harder, and I’m about to try, when the shifter collapses to the cement, gasping for air. His hands rub at his throat, as if he’s trying to force life back down it as quickly as possible.

  “All this talk of equality has interested me,” Talon says. “Walk with me, witch. Tell me of your rebel beliefs.”

  The prince pivots and takes two steps.

  What the what? Walk with him? Is he crazy?

  “Why would I do that?” I scoff. “So you can try to rip my throat out again?”

  Talon gestures to the line of guards behind his table. “They will be with us. And if it makes you feel better, I have no interest in ripping out your throat today. I fear we got off on the wrong foot, and instead would like to establish a new baseline relationship.” He jerks his head to the shifter, who is attempting to crawl away. “That, and if you do not come with me, I shall return to other pursuits that interest me.”

  His tone dips, the timbre low and dangerous, as his gaze meets mine. “And something tells me your little savior heart won’t condone them. Now come.”

  A new baseline relationship? What does that even mean?

  Once again, my sister’s words from last night flit to the forefront of my mind. I’d dismissed them before as hopeful talk of the optimistic, less hardened Borges twin. The girl who will hopefully never be locked up and see what I have seen. And yet, I realize what I’d brushed off as unbelievable may be happening right before my eyes.

  And so, for the first time in my life, I follow a royal order and fall into step beside Prince Talon.

  8.

  Talon

  The witch is walking with me, and while neither of us has said a word since leaving the cafeteria, it speaks volumes that we are together, walking side-by-side along the prison wall.

  The fortification is unlike any I’ve ever seen—even more formidable than those surrounding our palaces. It’s a veritable mess of silver and iron blades that stick out of the concrete poured between the gate’s metal slats. I suspect that the original gate structure is made of a horrible mix of silver and iron. Such an amalgamation would make it poisonous or even deadly, depending on the length of exposure, to vampires, fae, and shifters alike. Only witches might climb the thing and not succumb to the toxic effects of the metals within.

  But I have never met a witch capable of climbing forty feet without utilizing their powers. The blades sticking out from the metal and concrete would probably deter any from trying.

  Plus, once they got to the other side, they’d have to brave the elements without magic.

  As it is early February in the Rocky Mountains, I doubt few witches would survive.

  We are halfway around the yard when I become aware of eyes following us. I twist my neck and see hundreds of inmates staring.

  Being watched is nothing I’m not used to, although I’ll admit, this level of intensity is novel. And if Father has his way, and I win
the witch over, this will only be the start.

  Although I doubt winning the witch’s trust will be easy, I can achieve it. If I had compulsion to aid me, it would be even easier, but that cannot be helped.

  Inside the penitentiary, even the king has limited power. This prison, the courthouses, and the rebel keeps dotting our kingdom are the few places that can claim to be autonomous from royal rule. There is no way that Father could have asked the prison-employed witch who bound my compulsion magic to release it. At least, not right after ensuring I would only be followed by royal guards.

  He cannot be seen pulling too many strings, or he might face charges again. And if that were to happen, who would take the fall this time? I doubt he would send Elisabeta or Kieran to prison as his scapegoats.

  As heirs, they are too precious.

  Perhaps one day, I will be too, I think, recalling Father’s promise.

  Intent on gaining his respect, I focus on the task at hand, and twist my neck to look at the witch.

  Her raven-wing hair cascades down her back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes are cautious but not fearful. Despite myself, I have to admit that steel runs in her veins.

  Or perhaps it is vampire-killing silver.

  I sniff the air. And thank the ancestors she smells much better than the musky shifter. Even though they only allow us a shower every other day, she smells nice, slightly sweet and floral.

  She catches me looking at her, and I clear my throat.

  “So, you are among the few who believe equality is necessary in society?” I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Even after the debacle with the humans, and supernaturals needing to swoop in to save them?”

  She gives me an incredulous look. “Yes.”

  “No one should lead, then?”

  Skye rolls her eyes, and for some reason, the gesture amuses me rather than enrages me like it ought to. “In any society, there will be those in charge, and those who follow. That is how it’s always been. But I believe everyone should have the same basic rights.”

  “Even shifters who smell like that one back there?”

  Her lips quirk up, but flatten again almost immediately.

  Pity, the flash of a smile made her much more attractive than the stony face I’ve grown used to seeing.

  “Even if they smell worse,” she retorts. “Every single person deserves at least a chance to better themselves, to rise and make what they want of their life. If they don’t take it, that’s on them.” Her blue eyes turn on me. “No one should be born—or made—with ultimate power over others. It isn’t right.”

  “One might say that, as a vampire, I’ve seen more of the world and history than you, and I know what is best.”

  “A common explanation.” She waves her hand in dismissal.

  What sort of people were her parents, to instill such confidence in her? Are her siblings just as sure of themselves?

  “The humans used it too,” she adds. “The old leading the young and all that. It works, to an extent—but we must allow the young to spread their wings and bring new ideas to the world at some point. If they are not given that opportunity. . . well, we end up like the humans.” She sucks in a breath as if she was present for the events that shifted the hierarchy. She is too young for such things, but her parents told her stories no doubt.

  “Stewing in a world too warm for comfort,” Skye continues, sounding exhausted by the thought. “Nuclear missiles pointed at one another all for the oil in the ground—a resource that has since become worthless, because money no longer equates to power. Only power is power. The world recognizes that now.”

  One corner of my lips curls up. The witch has a point, but there is no way I’d ever admit such a thing.

  “And what of you?” I prod instead. “You’re a leader in power, are you not? The rebels follow you.”

  The witch tenses, probably sensing a trap in my words. It’s the exact opposite of the reaction I want, so I increase the space between us by a few inches. She’s observant, and her shoulders drop at the gesture.

  “Should your forces get their way and see my family dethroned, what would happen to you?” I gesture to her body. “It is obvious in your every pore that you know power. Would you give it up?”

  The witch shoots a wary gaze at me, as if still unsure what I mean.

  I shrug. “It is an honest question.”

  Shockingly, she shakes her head, and a small sigh escapes her. “I would love for someone else to be in charge. I have no desire to rule a country.”

  I stop walking.

  The witch takes two more steps before she jerks to a stop and whirls around, hands extended as if she could still defend herself with magic. But when she catches my expression, she drops them.

  Even if I wanted to hide my reaction, I couldn’t. Her words shock me that much.

  “You cannot mean that,” I say after a moment of stiff silence.

  The witch cocks her head. “Of course I do. Don’t you sometimes wish you could be normal? That others didn’t depend on you for guidance and strength?”

  No. I have never allowed myself to think that. In fact, I’ve always craved the opposite. I desire to be stronger and more like my siblings who will inherit the throne. I want my father to respect me.

  But now that she brings it up, the idea is intriguing—just like so much about this witch.

  Perhaps seducing Skye and stealing her secrets won’t be so bad. At the very least, she is intelligent—and attractive, I’ll admit. She will be a good distraction from the monotony of prison.

  But I cannot admit that I agree slightly with her vision, so I shrug a single shoulder. “Vampires are not allowed such feelings.”

  Her lips form a thin line. “Perhaps you should try breaking that rule sometime.”

  I nod, not at all wanting to feel how others live, but suddenly understanding how the witch works.

  And how I will gain her trust.

  9.

  Skye

  After my walk with Prince Talon, I await the chiming of the bells from the small church in the Rocky Mountain town near the prison. Besides mealtimes and the nightly lockup, the bells are the only way I can tell what time it is in this damn place. And for what I wish to do, timing is essential.

  More than anything, I do not want to miss talking to my sister. For once, I am the one with big news for her.

  After a few minutes of lying on my bed, the chimes sound. I immediately close my eyes and search for Misty.

  Vibrations run through me, from my skull all the way to my toes, as the only magic left to me pours out and searches for my twin. Suddenly, the slight tremors stop, and my head clears.

  Skye? You there?

  Yes! I respond inside my head. Oh my gosh, Mist, I have so much to tell you! Something huge happened today!

  Then spill it! I can’t stay long tonight. An armed presence wearing Tenebris red is milling around the town. I feel like they know something is up around here.

  My stomach clenches. Misty has always been the softest of the Borges children. Blaise and Sequoia would fair nearly as well as I am behind bars. But not Misty. If they find her . . .

  Maybe you should leave. Head west.

  I hear an internal sigh. I wanted to talk to you about that. I plan on leaving for at least three weeks after tonight. Just to keep the rebel-hunters off my back.

  Three weeks without hearing her voice sounds like hell, but I’ll never admit that to her. Whatever Misty needs to do to remain safe, I support.

  Then we’d better make tonight count.

  I launch into telling her about my walk with Talon. When I’m done, there’s a prolonged silence before she responds.

  Holy hell, Skye. I did not expect you to follow through with my idea. You need to run with this!

  Although we are miles away, in my mind’s eye, I can see the wheels in Misty’s head turning.

  I plan on it, I say with a grin. I don’t think it will be too difficult. I’ve caught him staring at me a f
ew times, and we both know how vamps love a witch’s blood.

  There’s a pause before Misty replies.

  Yeah, but we don’t want him drinking your blood. We want him to like you and see the error of his ways. Imagine getting a Tenebris prince in our corner. It could be huge!

  More than huge. That would be the sort of thing to refuel a wavering rebellion.

  I will do whatever I need to do to make sure that happens.

  I agree, I say and choose not to comment on the blood thing.

  If I need to use it—or other means of persuasion—then I will. My pride is of little consequence to the thousands of lives at stake. This prize is too big to pass up.

  Plus, if I’m being honest with myself, it won’t be too hard. Talon’s hot, and I’m attracted to him—even if I would deny that until my dying breath.

  I was wondering, I say to Misty, do you think it’s possible to break into a royals’ mind if their compulsion is bound?

  Skye! No! If you try, and they realize what you’re doing, they’ll kill you or . . . worse.

  Death is always the fear that we talk about, even though we know that a much worse fate might be ours if someone discovers our mental magic. We divulge our secret to very few people—only family, and those we trust high in rebel ranks. Our younger siblings, Blaise and Sequoia, take on the more public missions, to help keep the connection between me and Misty quiet.

  I won’t do it. I try to calm her. Don’t worry, I’ll just work on changing his ideals. I promise I won’t do anything too risky.

  Like I believe that.

  My lips quirk up. Misty knows me too well.

  I’m about to dish out some snark about her being the one sneaking into a tiny-ass town every couple of weeks to meet with new rebels, when I hear the clatter of metal against metal, and heavy footfalls sound down the hall.

  Someone’s coming. Tell me the most recent plans, and where you’ll be the next three weeks. You know, in case I charm the prince into changing sides and getting us out of here.