Her Dark Soul Page 6

  He cupped her breast and murmured unintelligible words against her skin.

  “Marek, you need to wake up.”

  He rubbed his thumb over her taut nipple and rocked against her backside, his cock easing to where she ached for him with every easy thrust. She knew she should pull away, bring him sharply awake, but she craved him for the fresh heat he rushed through her body. She also knew it could go nowhere—her release would smash into him and leave her raw and aching. Still…

  Ash parted her thighs and his cock found her pussy. She sucked in a breath, Lucas’ words feeling forbidden even in her own thoughts. The slick, rhythmic sound of him pushing over her flesh to find her sweet spot mixed with his low, satisfied moans, made her heart pound and the need low in her belly tightened. The sweet ache was torture.

  “Ashsara…”

  His whisper burned over her ear and her heart squeezed. Something about the way he said her name when sleep still held him filled her with more than an insane fire. He was working his way under her skin…and she couldn’t fight it. “Marek.” She swallowed in a tight throat, hating that she had to wake him, that she couldn’t let him sink hot and hard into her body. Fuck her in a way they both ached for. The thought spiraled liquid heat and her blood pounded. The knowledge that she would simply smash a wave of magic into him didn’t stop her meeting every hard thrust. “Dear goddess, Marek…please, you have to stop.”

  “You taste…” He nipped her neck, following a line to the curve of her shoulder. “I want to eat you, to fuck you…see him fuck you. See him bend you over and take your ass.”

  Ash groaned. “Wake up…”

  “Then he can watch me.” His fingers found her pussy, teasing and stroking over her flesh, his cock, holding it hard there. He groaned and his arm held her tight to him as his mouth found her ear. “I’ll take you and make you scream.” His hand moved faster between her legs, his own breath ragged as he drove his cock against her sweet spot in a wild surge of need. “And then together. Our right, our need.” He muttered words in a lost language. “You want that.”

  “Yes. Both of you.” Sparks danced behind her eyes and the pressure low in her belly screamed. “Both of you fucking me hard and fast. Please…” She couldn’t deny the want that blazed within her, could almost feel the heat of Marek and Lucas surrounding her— With a cry, her magic smashed into him in a wild surge.

  Marek groaned and a warmth rushed over her flesh. He buried his face against her neck and let out a low, shuddering breath. Soft curses escaped him. “I need to break his spell today. At least you’ve fed me this morning.” He pulled away. “Stay still. I’ll wash you.”

  Ash let her body flop, not watching him as he left the bedroom. The sour burn of her dissatisfaction still flooded her body. She closed her eyes and let her breathing slow. Yes, she wanted him to break the spell so that she no longer had to spend another night in his arms.

  “Ash, turn over.”

  Surprise flashed over her. She hadn’t heard the soft pad of his feet across the wood. She pulled in a breath and willed herself to turn over and lie on her back. She was used to him seeing her naked, though it was always easier for her to close her eyes and not see the beauty of his body.

  Ash gasped at the sudden wet heat covering her mound, her hips lifting off the mattress.

  “Stay still,” he murmured, his fingers gentle as he wiped the cloth over her pussy, her thighs. “Now dry yourself. Breakfast will be on the table.”

  And then he was gone. Ash pushed the heels of her hand into her eye sockets and tried not to swear out loud. With a heavy breath, she rolled herself up and found the towel Marek had left over the back of the nearby chair, next to her neatly folded clothes.

  She dressed, still feeling strange in the knee-length tunic and tight breeches Donel’s slave had bought on Marek’s orders. Pushing her feet into her soft leather slippers, she made her way out of the bedroom. The first rays of morning light touched the garden and Ash breathed in the soft scents of the ripening fruits. Marek strode out from the kitchen, a hunk of bread in his hand. Anger pinched his face…and she had no doubt it was the way he’d woken up that had his mouth thinned and his shoulders tight. She waited, falling back into the dark shadow of the wooden landing, and watched him disappear through the archway beside his office.

  She listened to her slowing heart. He would expect her to join him after she’d eaten, to sit and watch while he deciphered the language at the base of the statuette. He was close, so close the gold seemed to throb and the air in the cellar thickened with the scent of Lucas himself, his skin, his hair, the remembered taste of him.

  Ash pressed her hand to her lips. Yes, the sooner Marek gained control of the magic binding Lucas, the better for everyone.

  A platter awaited her on the small table. Ash dropped onto the low stool and attacked her breakfast. The thin rations of the temple that had always had her on the verge of hunger were still a sharp memory and she didn’t intend to waste Marek’s generous breakfasts, even if her thoughts were in chaos.

  She leaned back against the plaster wall, the pale light from the garden and the shaft of light from the grille above the oven lifting some of the gloom. She sipped the tart wine-water and stared up at the smooth arch of the ceiling. When the cup was empty, it was time to start her morning.

  Ash drained the cup and moved to stack her platter beside the sink and the dishes from the day before. Donel’s slave—Banda—appeared midmorning and swept through the town house like a scouring wind. Not that she’d yet seen this mysterious slave. A wry smile pulled at her mouth. They would hear the door thud shut somewhere around the third hour and Banda would call out. Marek didn’t bother to answer, his focus solely on the text in front of him. By the fourth hour, the door thudded and he was gone again.

  She pulled in a heavy breath. There was no more putting it off. It was time to face her day of sitting with Marek.

  The ancient books were already open on the table, the lit oil lamp glowing over Lucas’ statuette. Her need to touch it…him…itched in her fingertips, but she moved away to the stool tucked into a corner and sat. Marek flicked a glance at her, calm, cold and turned back to his book. “I almost have it,” he murmured. “In fact…”

  He picked up the statuette and stood back, lifting it high. Light caught it and cast thick shadows in the cellar room. Ash realized she wasn’t breathing as a pain burst over her chest and she pulled in a quick gulp of air. The scent of Lucas seemed to surround her, pressed against her body, filled her. She gripped her thighs, her fingers biting into firm flesh as words flowed from Marek.

  For days snippets and snatches had broken from him and she recognized some of them as he spoke, but the rhythm was new and it caught her, easing hot through her blood. The words resonated, developing a metallic tone that filled the room. The statuette shook in his hand. Marek’s shoulders tightened, but the smooth rhythm of his voice never changed. And then he stopped.

  The sudden silence hung heavy, broken only by Marek’s slow breathing. Ash didn’t dare speak. She stared at the carved image of Lucas, the metal object still…shifting…in Marek’s tight grip.

  Marek gritted his teeth. “Something about this is not right. Shit!” He threw the gold statue to the floor and Ash stared as the metal melted across the tiles. “Ash. Move!”

  She leapt from her stool and grabbed his outstretched hand. He pulled her behind him, his arm holding her secure. “It’s not supposed to do that.”

  “No,” he muttered. “Everything fell into place. I could see the incantation, hear it, feel it.” He stopped. The splash of gold began to bubble and grow. Marek backed away, taking her with him. “Everything is as it should be.”

  “Even when another dark soul speaks the spell?”

  His arm tensed around her. “I am not a dark soul.”

  Ash snorted. “And Lucas is not a growing puddle of liquid gold on your floor.”

  The gold shifted upwards and Ash blinked. Feet, ankles, calves followe
d into place…but this was no small statuette. Lucas was becoming life-size. Muscled thighs, his backside—a laugh broke from her—and his erect cock formed in gold. His chest and shoulders grew and gold rippled over him in a wave before flowing down to form his arms. The last of the metal formed his head, shifting, pushing, pulling until the carved beauty of his face hardened into shape.

  “That’s…” But Ash didn’t get any further as the gold dulled and other colors eased over the life-size statue. Skin tones, hair, eyes and then her heart turned over because his lips twitched. “He’s…”

  “Alive.” Marek finished the sentence for her. He pulled in a heavy breath. “Lucas?”

  The man rolled his neck, stretched his jaw. “Odd place for your dream, Ash.” He stared around the low cellar, squinting into the darkness. His shoulders flexed and his fingers twitched a moment later. A wicked smile touched his mouth. “But since we’re all here…” He tried to take a step forward and lurched. He stared down. “What have you done now, Marek?” He blinked and breathed deeply. “What the…” Disbelief shone in his dark eyes and emotion surged. “This isn’t a dream. You broke my bind.”

  “So it would appear.” Marek edged around Lucas, keeping Ash behind him.

  She felt Lucas’ gaze on her and she had to wonder if Marek had just made everything worse. Lucas in his flesh form—and the words sounded strange even as she thought them—would be more deadly than a man locked in her dreams. She couldn’t help the slide of her gaze over his naked body. He was all too aware of her need to look at him and a dark smile curved his mouth. Yes, he was much more dangerous in the flesh.

  Marek’s slamming of the heavy tome jerked her attention away from Lucas. “I need to cage you.”

  Lucas grinned and his eyes danced with suppressed laughter. “Decadent, Marek. Then what?” He rubbed his hand over his taut stomach. “You know, this proves that you’re a dark soul. Only another of my race can unbind me.”

  Marek’s mouth thinned. “You lie as you breathe.” He turned, gripping Ash’s arm and pushing her ahead of him up the wide stone steps.

  “Marek.” Lucas shook his head and followed them up from the cellar. “You’d think you didn’t want to be my primary.”

  “Ash, my study.”

  Marek waited for her to cross the short distance to his broad desk. She sank onto the soft leather padding of his wide chair. Her fingers played across the inlaid wood and she tried not to stare at Lucas. She failed. The two of them looking at her flushed heat into her face.

  “You.” Marek grabbed Lucas’ arm and his harsh voice snapped her gaze to the wooden desk. “With me.”

  He marched him through the garden and up the stairs, Ash craning her neck to watch them through the wide, empty window that looked out onto the tree-lined space. The door to Marek’s bedroom slammed and Ash wiped her hand over her face. A laugh broke from her. Did this mean that Marek would be sleeping with Lucas now?

  She let her spine sink against the curved wood of the chair back and stared up at the ceiling. Faded patterns stained the plaster and she traced the swirls, the dots, wanting them to distract her. Were they more of Marek’s spells drawn into the fabric of the house, the ancient magic that was supposed to protect all of the treasures locked in the drawers in his cellar? Nelek had said Marek had been a custodian for decades. Had he always been in this house, sat at this desk and done his deals with agents like Donel?

  He was unlikely to tell her. The most conversation he had with her was in the first hour as with his mouth on her skin, he murmured want he wanted from her. Ash pressed her lips together, not wanting to lose herself in those memories. The simple thought of Marek and Lucas so close to her had her nipples peaked against the smooth fabric of her tunic.

  She focused on the shelves lining one wall. Small, loosely bound books, their wood boards buffed and polished, filled the shelves. Books at the temple had been rare, the priests preferring vellum scrolls. Ash pulled out a book and sat back down, a shaft of sunlight from the garden making the opened, yellowed pages glow.

  Neat block script filled the pages, all written in a language she couldn’t read. She traced her fingers along the uniform letters, the vellum smooth to the touch. She wondered when Marek touched it did the words glow under the white fire of his magic.

  The bedroom door opened and hurriedly she pushed the book back onto the first pile. The heavy thump of boots hit the wooden stairs…followed by a second pair. Ash craned her neck out of the open square overlooking the garden and Lucas smirked at her.

  “Marek dressed me.” He smoothed the front of the black tunic he wore. “Caring for me, just as a primary should.”

  A muscle jumped in Marek’s jaw. “I am not your primary. Now, since I seem to have a growing household, I need to reassess my stores. You.” He pushed Lucas ahead of him. “With me.”

  Lucas stumbled and caught himself. He narrowed his eyes, and a hint of fire burned there. “We are still equals, Marek. Respect is a part of our bond.”

  “We have no bond.”

  Lucas snorted. “We both know that’s a lie.” He let his gaze roam over Marek and the other man flushed, anger tightening his mouth. “You may not be full-blooded, but there’s enough of the dark soul about you. Enough to make your need for her,” Lucas stared at her and Ash cursed the hot burn to her face, the way her heart thudded, “the need we have to strip her, to make her scream.”

  Marek’s back tensed and Ash could imagine the fury riding him. “She can’t scream. She’s a ward and she’s going to stay that way. Now.” He pointed to the kitchen, the arched doorway visible through the low-hanging branches of an apple-heavy tree. “Until I can construct a cage to contain you, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “You can’t fight this. We’ve chosen a woman to share.”

  Marek let out a slow breath. “Now I remember why I live alone.” He gripped Lucas’ arm and pulled him down the stone path that criss-crossed the garden.

  Yes, Marek had two strangers living with him, and with Lucas now a flesh-and-blood man, she needed something to do other than sit and imagine both of them naked. Ash pinched at the bridge of her nose. They weren’t the only ones fighting their insane attraction.

  The outer door thudded open and Banda’s voice rang out. Ash frowned at the slice of outside light and the shape of a man standing there. The mysterious Banda…but it was only just coming up to the second hour. She glanced behind her to find Marek in the kitchen archway.

  “He’s early.” He broke into a run, covering the ground between them in long strides, Lucas right behind him. “He’s never early.”

  He jumped the low wall into the office and pulled her from the chair. “I’ve been so focused on breaking the spell around him that I haven’t planned for other threats.”

  “It’s Banda…”

  “He comes on the third hour. Always. The spell binding his entry only works then.” Marek cursed and turned to face her. His hands flexed around her arms and she could almost feel the power he drew on. “You have to hide in the cellar.”

  Lucas stepped forward. “I’ll protect her.”

  The heavy sound of footsteps hitting the tiled floor echoed. Marek glared at the other man. “Protect her. And if you try anything I will kill you. There’ll be no coming back from that.”

  Lucas gave him a sarcastic nod. “As you command…primary.”

  Marek scowled at him, but stepped out in front of them both, ushering them towards the cellar doors. He blocked them with his body. “Banda, did Donel’s wife want quiet time with her new slave? I understand he’s just a pure run of Khazret muscle.”

  A thin, bald man stepped out of the half-shadows. He gave a short bow. His gnarled fingers played with a dulled metal coin. The click of his nails against its surface ran an unexpected chill through her. “Yes, master. He’s very beautiful.”

  “No wife and you’re too early. The door is primed for him at the third hour, not now.” Marek’s anger lurked under his words. He pre
ssed his hand to the wood of the cellar door and a thin burst of light crawled over it, parting the locked cellar doors with a soft creak. “You’re a skin-sheath. Think I wouldn’t recognize a haze coin?” A bitter laugh escaped him. “Don’t confuse my level in the Order with stupidity.”

  “Ah, we didn’t fool you for long, did we, Marek?” The image of Banda…fractured…and six men stood in the widening hallway, each holding a small sliver of a coin. All wore the leather and buckled tunic of a custodian. One man, older than the rest, stepped forward. His mouth twitched and satisfaction lurked in his eyes. He crumbled the coin to dust. He flexed his fingers and the first flicker of his magic crawled with jagged light over his knuckles. “But just long enough. By order of the emperor and the Senior Prime, you are to hand over the ward and her treasure.”

  Ash’s gut tightened but Lucas squeezed her hand and Marek tensed in front of her. She wanted to believe that both men wouldn’t let them take her without a fight.

  “You’re ours,” Lucas murmured. “And our last breath is yours.”

  Her heart turned over at the promise, but the situation was insane. These men were colleagues of Marek’s. Did custodians usually turn against each other with such ease? And what was so important about one stupid little box?

  “Produce the emperor’s warrant, Tage. There has to be verification before you can act.” Magic flashed over Marek’s clenched fists and the hot burn of metal singed the air. “Or you face me. The right is mine. You came unannounced into my house, used the haze to break the wards, used the skin-sheath to deceive me.” Ash caught the edge of the harsh smile that cut his mouth. She couldn’t hold back her shiver. “Your lives are mine.”

  Tage laughed and the other five men shifted behind him. “We’re the warrant, Marek.”