Cora set the plate on the table and joined Dajia in snatching a steaming chocolate chip. “I had a feeling there were more of us. That idiot’s fool-proof plan wasn’t so fool-proof.”
Dajia laughed. “Tell me how you really feel about the regent.”
“He killed my father. Clearly, he could take a long walk off a short pier, and I’d be happy.” Cora sank her teeth into the cookie as if it could help ease the heartache.
“We share that sentiment,” Dajia replied.
“What’s a long walk off a short pier, Mama?” the little boy asked without looking up from his drawing.
“Just going for a swim, Sam.” Cora winked at Dajia.
“How old were you?” Dajia asked.
“Eleven. You?”
“Nine.”
Cora set her cookie down and used a linen napkin to daintily wipe at her rose-red lips. “Is there a reason you were staring at my house like it broke your heart, Dajia Bray?”
“It doesn’t look anything like the house I grew up in,” Dajia told her, waving a hand around the kitchen. “But that’s what it is.”
Cora covered her mouth with one hand, her dark eyes wide. “Sweet mercy. Your parents died here?”
Before Cora could voice the usual platitudes, an ancient television in the corner crackled to life. The clunky box was so old it had crooked rabbit ears and a thin layer of dust on the screen, but under the influence of the government’s magick, it glowed with purpose.
Dajia’s heart skittered as Eli’s face came into view. She recognized the hall of mirrors behind him, having just traversed it beside him that day. He looked exhausted. The dark circles beneath his eyes had widened in the hours since she’d seen him. She hoped that didn’t mean more bad news.
“Citizens of Sector 14,” Eli intoned.
His voice didn’t waver, but Dajia felt the weariness in his tone. She wanted to crawl through the television into the mirrored hallway and wrap her arms around him.
“We have a crisis on our hands,” Eli went on. “The regent is dying. This afternoon, he sustained a seizure from which he will likely never return. His death is impending.”
Cora covered her mouth and reached for Sam, whose little dark eyes, so similar to his mother’s, watched the television in rapt attention.
Eli cleared his throat. “As you all are aware, the electricity is gone. The regent’s power is tied up in the dome that protects us from the ravagers. Until we can fully wrest control of the dome’s power source, we cannot restore your heat.
“I implore the magickal population of Sector 14 to open your doors to the humans who require assistance. You are capable of powering your own homes in the interim. You may be the only thing standing between life and death for the humans on whom we so gratefully depend.”
Eli’s gaze leveled on the screen. Dajia’s heart thumped; she felt he could truly see her. Or maybe, she could truly see him. The goodness in him. His need to help, to save the people his father had wronged.
“Tonight, the palace is open to anyone who requires sanctuary,” Eli went on. “If you cannot find comfort and warmth among your neighbors, you will find it here with me and my staff. Stay strong, and may the gods bless you.”
With an electric sizzle, the television clicked off.
“This is serious,” Cora murmured.
Dajia nodded. “The sector is in trouble.”
Cora grimaced. “I thought so. I’ve never had to power my own house before. My husband said the electric’s out all over the sector, even in the witch neighborhoods.”
“It’s worse than just the electric.” Dajia gave her a quick rundown of current events, picking her words carefully to keep from frightening Sam. “When the regent goes, so does the dome.”
“The sector is full of witches,” Cora said. “Surely, we’re going to be okay.”
“The sector is full of witches allowed to live, chosen by the regent for their lack of power,” Dajia corrected. “He’s destroyed his own power base.”
“Then we have to help. Come out of the darkness.”
Dajia nodded. “My plan exactly. You in?”
Cora grinned. “Sign me up.”
DAJIA CAREFULLY WROTE TEN LETTERS in neat block writing. Things were easier pre-Reckoning, when a girl could whip up a Word doc and print out a hundred copies. But secret letters lacked that personal touch back then. Times New Roman, black on white; such a sterile look, the way a hospital smelled. Bleach on paper.
She kept the message quick and to the point: her story of surviving her parents’ assassinations and being raised in secret, and why she was reaching out. She didn’t personalize the letters, despite that she knew Liam and Hanna. She kept all names and dates out of it, in case they were intercepted by the wrong person.
As the sun disappeared over the wall, Dajia crunched up M Street in her boots, her breath a dewy fog against the darkness. She stopped outside Liam’s house and pulled the first letter from her coat pocket. The mailbox screeched dully as she opened it, as if protesting against the cold. She laid the letter inside and closed it back up.
She repeated the step at Erin and Hanna’s house, then again at the other three homes. She didn’t know for a fact that a witch lived in those homes, but chances were good that they did.
On the way to the palace, Dajia stopped back by Cora’s and left the remaining letters in her box, as planned. After she put the boys to bed, she’d deliver them to the necessary houses.
Then maybe, come Sunday morning, they’d have a coven to work with. A back-up plan, in case shit hit the fan and the world did end.
19
Dajia
Dajia found the hidden door easily. Made more so by the lithe form who slid sinuously from the shadows as she drew near.
Dajia took in Eli’s sad smile and the heat in his eyes. He opened his mouth to greet her, but she didn’t let him speak. She flung her arms around him, her lips finding his in the dark.
He pulled her against him, their bodies melding together and Dajia’s weight resting against the heat of his hands. She tiptoed into his embrace and deepened the kiss. She was oblivious to the cold and ached to get closer, to crawl inside him and live there.
Finally, Eli broke away with a wry chuckle. “Slow down, princess. It’s good to see you, too. We should take this upstairs.”
Dajia’s heart pounded like a virginal teen, which she wasn’t. At all. But the handful of men she’d screwed in her life paled in comparison to this one. The moment “upstairs” crossed his lips, her body turned to leaden gold and she fought the urge to climb back into his kiss.
Eli gripped her hand and tugged her inside. The heavy door clicked shut behind them, and he jammed a bolt into place. A long hallway of stone stretched into darkness, turning into an abyss beyond the light of his wand.
“Did people come?” Dajia asked as they started down the tunnel. “To seek shelter?”
Eli nodded, his face darkening. “Yes.”
Dajia stopped and tugged on his hand. “What happened?”
He turned to look at her and rubbed his forehead with his other hand. The passage of his fingers traced hurt into his handsome face. “My mom. We had a bit of an argument.”
“Over what?”
“How I publicly told the sector the regent is dying.”
“You told the truth.”
“I’m not sure my mother remembers anymore what the truth is.” He shook his head, his thumb tracing over her fingers. “Maybe he broke her. Changed the good in her, warped it to match his agenda like he’s done everything else, and I just never noticed. Too self-involved to care.”
Dajia took one step forward, leaving a safe distance between them as she tiptoed and kissed him. Closed lips, chaste, a kiss of support and encouragement, not passion.
He let go of her hand to slide his fingers into her hair. His lips brushed hers as he said, “Maybe you should leave. Before whatever’s rotten in me ruins you.”
“There’s nothing rotten in you,
Eli,” she assured him, kissing him again. “You’re a good man. You’re doing everything you can for the sector right now.”
“It’s not enough to fix what he’s done.”
Dajia stepped back to look at him—to really look at him in the dim light coming from his wand. There were tears in his eyes.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked softly.
Eli touched her face. “You’re so perfect. Where have you been all my life?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Waiting for you. You’re avoiding my question.”
“I want to tell you. I will tell you.” He drew a deep breath and embraced her, his breath tickling her ear as he went on. “If the sector is going to fall… if we’re going to die… I want one unspoiled night with you to make up for all of the nights we didn’t get to have.”
“And after? Will you tell me then?”
“I will lay bare every dark truth in this palace.”
BY ONLY THE LIGHT OF the fire, Eli’s room appeared smaller, more intimate. As he closed and locked the bedroom door, Dajia unzipped her coat before the blazing fireplace, the warmth suffusing her cool cheeks and nose.
Dajia shrugged out of the coat, and Eli was there behind her to take it. He tossed it over the back of the chair and gently turned her toward him. He stepped closer, lowering his lips to the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
Dajia closed her eyes as he trailed his lips down her neck. She swayed into him, her hands resting on his muscular chest.
Eli’s fingers traced over her collarbone. He flicked open the first button on her shirt and moved his lips to the delicate hollow beneath. He swirled his tongue in the depression between her collarbones, and moved to the next button.
Between Eli’s touch and the roaring heat behind her, Dajia felt adrift in sensation. She was hyper-aware of the rough cotton of his thermal shirt, and the rigidity of his chest beneath. His strong scent, sandalwood, earth, somewhere in between, surrounded her.
He straightened and pushed her shirt away. Despite the fireplace, she shivered at his gaze on her chest.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, voice husky. “Tell me now. If I go any further, I’m not going to stop until I’ve tasted every part of you.”
Heat pooled between Dajia’s legs. She didn’t need to answer with anything but her lips.
She leapt onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist, and kissed him. He grabbed her ass and dug his fingers in, grinding her core against his body.
Eli carried her to the bed and laid her gently atop the covers without breaking the kiss. He relieved her of her clothes, taking his time to visit each part of her body as he bared it.
Dajia was so lost in the moment she barely noticed him undressing. Suddenly, she cradled his naked body between her legs. His thick shaft slid against her wet center but didn’t enter.
Eli smoothed her hair from her face, his gaze wide. “You are mine if we do this.”
Dajia wiggled, searching for the perfect angle to let him in. “I was already yours.”
He sank deep into her, one delicious, excruciating inch at a time. His length fit her as if it were made for her body, hand and glove. He rocked his hips back, pulling out until just the tip teased her, and then he thrust inside.
Dajia gasped at the delicious intrusion. Eli found his rhythm, their bodies merging and moving. Dajia’s body grew hot, and the apex of her thighs turned liquid. She gripped his back like it was her anchor, the tremors of her orgasm beginning deep within her, where his body touched the deepest parts of hers.
Waves of pleasure coursed through Dajia, and she cried out. Eli quickened his pace, digging an arm beneath her lower back to tug her higher. He kneeled over her, his lean body on display.
He climaxed a moment later, the muscles in his neck and arms bulging, his eyes closed. A sexy, masculine groan spilled from his lips. The sight of his pleasure threw her into another rippling orgasm. She sat up to ride him over the aftershocks, their lips mingling, his hands on her breasts, her hips.
“I’m falling for you, Dajia Bray,” he murmured.
“Don’t fall too hard,” she warned playfully. “We’re not done yet.”
20
Dajia
In the darkest hour of the night, Dajia cuddled against Eli’s bare torso. Satisfaction had taken up residence inside her and had no plans of leaving.
Eli had only left the bed once, to stoke the fire in the hearth so they wouldn’t freeze. But Dajia was so toasty warm from his ministrations, she thought there had never been any threat of that.
“Are you ready to lay bare the dark secrets?” Dajia paraphrased.
“I was never ready for that. Never ready for anything my father has done to me.”
Dajia smoothed a palm over his chest beneath the covers. “Tell me.”
“The regent isn’t the man you think he is.” He sounded like a man about to begin a long, wearying tale he didn’t want told.
Dajia lifted her head to rest her chin in her hands. “He’s not a murderous, power-hungry liar?”
Eli barked with laughter, his chest vibrating beneath her hand. “Okay, so maybe he is actually the person you think he is, and I was the one in the dark.”
“Not fully in the dark,” Dajia disagreed. “You knew he murdered half the population in a power play fifteen years ago.”
“I did. I guess I just never realized how truly fucked up he was. I had my own life,” he clarified, “with school, training, girls.” He cut an apologetic look at her.
She laughed. “I don’t live in a dream world. Both of us had lives before this happened. Is there more? What has your father done?”
Eli’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a sadist. A psychopath. He keeps witches in the dungeons in these big cages. Drains their powers for his own use until they die.”
“That was always a rumor in my world.” Dajia shuddered. “I didn’t want it to be true, but I’m not surprised.”
“There was a rumor?” Eli looked aghast. At Dajia’s nod, he blew out a disgusted breath. “I’m such an idiot.”
Dajia entwined her fingers with his atop the covers. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a son who wanted to believe the best in his father, like any other man.”
“There’s nothing good in him. Everything he’s done as regent has been some stupid manipulation. He put some of our most magickally strong into the regulator program.”
“Isn’t that good?”
Eli shook his head. “No. The regulators don’t get training in magick. We’re muscle, plain and simple. We start early in life and go to a different school than the Academy. We’re taught battle tactics and training, not magick.”
“But you told me magick is innate.”
Eli tightened his arm around her. “It is. But skill has to be taught. Otherwise, you’re a loose cannon.”
“I’m unlikely to explode,” Dajia said in an attempt at levity.
“Princess, if either of us is going to explode in the presence of the other, it’s me.” He rolled into her, his lips brushing hers. His breath fanned across her face like a caress. “And the council. Fuck. All twelve of them look close to death. Two might as well be deemed legally blind. One asshole didn’t even bring his wand to the meeting. What kind of witch goes anywhere without his wand?”
“Not a very smart one. Especially not right now.”
“We discussed the possibility of a circle to strengthen the dome and repower the sector.”
“I take it that didn’t go over well.”
“Of course not. I might as well have suggested we assassinate the regent. Circles should never have been prohibited. Yet another nail in my father’s coffin. In everyone’s coffins.”
In the regent’s world, circles had been prohibited because the power of a collective would too easily challenge his. Dajia knew her parents had once been part of a circle before the Reckoning, but collective magick had never been legal in her lifetime.
“We’re stronger together,” Eli added. “
Anyway, the council is useless. Their powers are waning like my father’s. Another year, and they’ll start dying off, too.” He frowned. “If we don’t all die in the next few days.”
“Stop that,” Dajia admonished. “Everything is going to be fine.” She kissed him, and even though it had been a gesture of solidarity, it turned into much more.
Eli moved closer. He’d hardened, and his erection tickled her thighs with promise of something nice.
“We have to sleep sometime,” Dajia reminded him.
“Yeah. But not right now,” he said with a wolfish grin, and rolled her beneath him.
21
Eli
Eli awoke in the gray moments after dawn as his bedroom door flung open on a blast of magick, and Noelle rushed into the room. “Elliott! Come quick.”
Eli sat up and blinked away sleep. The frigidity of his bedroom hit him with a near-metallic clang as he left Dajia’s warmth. The fireplace had fallen to useless embers, and the room was as cold as a tomb.
Beside him, Dajia pulled the covers to her chest, staring in shock at his mother. She looked like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Noelle gasped. She took a step back and slumped as if someone had hit her. “Vanele?”
Dajia’s face drained of color.
“Knock next time,” Eli snapped, coming to Dajia’s rescue. While she did resemble the woman he remembered, the similarities weren’t that obvious. She owed no explanation to his mother.
He’d reached his limit with his mother’s behavior since the regent had grown ill. Her crazed belief he’d survive, the way she doted at his bedside, and how she’d forced Eli to do the parade, going so far as to physically keep him from removing the glamour. Now, she’d come into his room without knocking and ruined the best sleep he’d had in days.
The Shadows and Sorcery Collection Page 50
