HerDarkSoul

Chapter One

When the sun broke the horizon, a stranger—a custodian—would come and take her from the temple. Ash stared at the quiet colonnades surrounding the small courtyard. The central fountain splashed water into the pre-dawn darkness and the light breeze swept cool air across the marble floor, bringing with it the familiar scents of chamomile and wild jasmine. She’d taken her first steps between the great ceramic pots lining the courtyard. The memory of the cool marble beneath her bare toes, bright sunlight, the laughter and joy as she toddled to Rani tightened her throat. This was her home.

Ash sank onto a cold stone bench, her thin shift little protection against the chill of the dawn air. She’d grown up in the Temple of Fausta, worshipped the goddess for the good fortune that had taken her from the Street of Cries. Without Rani plucking her from the clutch of abandoned newborns, she would have died like so many other unwanted and exposed babies. Chance had been with her that day.

She ran her hand over her tightly braided hair and the knot in her stomach twisted tight. She should’ve remembered that her goddess was a fickle creature. The priests had read the signs and she was no longer needed to serve Fausta. She bit her lip, denying the tears that burned in her eyes.

“Ash.” Rani’s soft voice carried on the dark air. A wry smile lifted her mouth. Yes, he could never sleep. He lifted an oil lamp, its yellow light washing over the stone steps leading down from Ash’s room. “You have to come inside.” He tugged the wool cloak tight around his narrow shoulders and shivered. “It’s too cold to be sitting out here on all this stone.”

He swung the lamp around the courtyard, stretching its light to the shadow-heavy corners. “And it’s not safe. Those thieves…” His soft voice took on a hard edge, one she’d never heard him use before. Rani was the essence of calm, but the desecration a few days before had all the priests rattled.

“Breaking into the sanctuary. Almost killing a ward.” He pulled in a shaking breath. “ May the dark half of the goddess’s heart find them. ” Rani’s curse hung on the chill air . He pressed a long hand to his smooth jaw and closed his eyes. His lips moved, silent, quick and she knew he whispered a counter-prayer over his own fortune.

He was the one who found little Kia in the sanctuary, her veins cut. Why she’d been out of her room, no one knew, but she was new to sleeping alone in her cell. She had wandered in the night, looking for the safety of her old shared room, and discovered the thieves instead. Only Rani’s inability to sleep had saved her, the goddess’s whim taking him to the sanctuary on his night walks.

The goddess had added a further kindness. Kia had no memory of the night. Still, anger tightened Ash’s body. Why would the thieves attack a child? The Temple of Fausta didn’t hold anything precious enough to warrant it.

Ash pushed herself to her feet and her leather sandals slapped against the marble as she crossed the courtyard. She curled her fingers into her palms, the pain of her nails in her flesh denying the twisting emotions gripping her. Anger, fear had her thoughts spinning.

Her gaze darted over Rani’s wrinkled face, the lamplight casting heavy shadows over his beardless jaw. He was the only parent she had ever had. And when the sun rose, she would never see him again. Her chest hurt and she wanted nothing more than to bury her face against his shoulder, but she couldn’t. She had to accept the whim of her goddess. They all did. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Rani took her curled fist, his long, smooth fingers easing hers free. “I was there for the reading, Ash. The fall of the pattern…” He squeezed her hand. “I would not see you go from here. Never.” He pulled in a heavy breath and his lips pressed together. “But the thieves—and what they did—forced us to consult the goddess.”

“And I have to go.”

“The marked ward, yes.” He twitched her a smile, but a heavy shadow darkened his blue eyes. “Kia…” He let out a long sigh. “She’s recovering…but the nurse doesn’t know whether she’ll remember. It will be a blessing if she doesn’t. And then tomorrow I must go to the Street of Cries and bring another to the temple.”

The duty of choosing always hung heavy on him, Ash knew that and she wanted to ease his pain. She’d been the first baby he’d saved. The marked ward, as she was known in the temple. The ward with the strange birthmark chasing down her spine. Others had stains marring their flesh, but they were nothing compared to the swirl of pattern covering her skin. “Then something good comes from this, from my leaving.” She turned back to the wide steps and Rani’s lamp lit the way. The dark archway led into a short corridor and the door to her cell.

The first prayer bell rang in the still air and her stomach turned over. Her need to follow the other wards into the great hall, to prostrate herself and begin the first prayer itched under her skin. Since she was four years old, it had been the start of her day. Doors creaked and Yeva and Tamina stepped out of their cells, tying back their hair and stifling yawns.

Yeva blinked, her dark gaze darting from Ash to Rani. “Ash…?”

Rani hushed her and stepped aside. “Find your way to the great hall.” He waved them past him.

Both women gave a brief nod and trotted down the steps to disappear into the shadows. The chatter of younger girls, their quickly hushed giggles and the soft murmurs of the priests filled the quiet air. Ash ached to follow, to find renewed comfort in the long days of prayer, of chanting and singing to ensure the good fortune of the emperor and the city of Bukhara. And not to think about the stranger, the man who would take her away from her safe world.

“Ash?”

Rani had felt the tremor she’d tried to suppress. “Who is he, Rani?” She paused. They’d kept her safe from the city beyond the high temple walls. From one of the ornate bell towers, she’d squinted down into the chaos of Bukhara and every day thanked her goddess for sparing her from it. The city was wild, decadent, and that was her greatest fear. She was untouched. “What will he expect from me?”

“Marek is a custodian.” He pushed open her door and hung his lamp on a hook beside the door. The light illuminated her small cell, her bunk, the stand with her washbowl and the low trunk that had held all she owned. Her clothes and the few trinkets given to her down the years now sat in a cloth satchel on her bed. “You packed. Good.”

Her mouth curved into a brief smile. “It didn’t take long.” Ash’s nerves had her palms damp, but she had to ask him the question that had been eating at her since he’d told her she had to leave. “Rani, am I going to be his whore?”

The old priest stiffened. “He’s a custodian. A man of magic.” He picked up her satchel, tugging at the straps to secure the contents. “One trusted by the emperor’s house for years.” He gave her the bag, his fingers delaying on the back of her hand. “One trusted by us.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t…” She waved her hand, or tried to with the weight of the bag filling her arms. “You know. The slaves talk…and I’ve seen the way the new ones look at us, at the wards. It’s a hunger.”

Rani stroked his hand down her arm. “I trust him,” he said. “Custodians are bound to their oaths. To break it would mean expulsion, even death. He knows that you are to remain untouched.” He gave her a smile that she wanted to find reassuring, but her fear made that impossible. “Selling you to him is simply a part of the custodian ritual. It means nothing. He knows part of his duty is to protect you.”

Ash wanted to believe him. She did. But she couldn’t. The memory of how new slaves had raked their gaze over her body, heat and hunger burning in their eyes, still gripped her, had her stomach tight. One man, Tavio, lean, strong and brown from the fierce summer sun, had watched her as he worked in the market garden. His wiry muscles, the beauty of his sharply angled face drew her to him. He was so different from the pale, soft smoothness of the eunuch priests. His difference pushed an illegal desire through her flesh. She wanted to taste him, to press her mouth to his skin, to feel his strangeness under the light caress of her fingers.

Ash dug her hands into her bag, Tavio still thick in her thoughts. “He’s a man from Bukhara,” she murmured. “Will expect what a man expects.”

“He’s a custodian.” Rani turned her towards the open door and grabbed his lamp. “You’re a job.”

“Why?” She walked forward and the warmed breeze of the early morning brushed her face. Already long shadows cut across the courtyard. It was dawn. Time for her to leave her home. “And why him, Rani? What did the readings say?”

“Ash…” He said her name with that familiar hint of disapproval and a tear broke from her eye. She pulled in a sharp breath. Rani’s fingers squeezed her shoulder. “Wards are the flesh of the goddess, the priests her thoughts. You know I can’t share more.”

“I know. And you know that I still had to ask.”

“Yes, I do.” He pressed a light kiss into her hair and Ash closed her eyes, denying the run of yet more tears. “Marek will take care of you.”

“For how long?”

Rani paused. “That too is in the hands of the goddess.”

“Will I ever come home?” The silence stretched and Ash knew his answer. The hollow pain in her chest threatened to swallow her, but she fought it. A ward accepted the whims of her goddess. No, she would never come back to the temple. “Then we should go to meet this custodian.”

She slung the satchel over her shoulder and turned into the courtyard. Birdsong greeted her, starlings swooping in the pale sky. All outsiders were met in the atrium at the front of the temple, a guarded entrance and the only access in and out of the temple. Ash headed for it, her chin lifted and Rani at her shoulder. The slap of her sandals echoed as she walked the familiar interconnected corridors, across empty courtyards, past the open door of the youngest wards’ cell. One of the wet nurses smiled at her as she rocked the bundled Phemie to sleep, but then her gaze fell on Rani and the smile faded.

Ash focused on finding the main doors. Slaves stood at the great brass rings fixed to the center of the heavy, black wood. In unison, they moved, gripping the rings and straining against the weight of the door they guarded. Wood groaned and the slow scrape of the door against the worn marble ran a chill through her blood.

The atrium, lit by the yellow light of oil lamps, lay beyond.

“I must leave you here.” Rani’s fingers pressed into her shoulder and Ash skimmed his knuckles. He wasn’t supposed to have a favorite. And he didn’t…officially. Still, they shared a bond.

“Send me word of Kia, Rani.” Ash knew she asked the almost impossible. The temple followed strict rules about contacting the outside world. “Please.”

“You are best to put life here from your thoughts, forget us. It will be easier. Trust that Kia is in the hands of the goddess and that She has given you a new path. You must accept Her will.” His silence stretched and Ash listened to the pained beat of her heart. “The first priest will come soon. Go.”

His fingers slid back from her shoulder and an empty ache filled her belly. Now she had to leave him, leave her life. Forget them. Ash put one foot in front of the other, needing all of her strength to cover the short distance to the open doors. And she obeyed Rani’s wish. She didn’t look back.

The wide doors framed her and then she crossed into the atrium. Metal hinges groaned, their slow grind and the creak of the wood following her. The doors thudded into place. Ash pulled in a tight breath and fought down the need to cry. She was a ward in the Temple of Fausta, a holy woman. This…custodian…would never take that away from her.

She stared around the high, blank walls. A corridor stretched away to end in a single, wide door. The city lay beyond.

“Ah, here and on time. Good. Good.” A small door opened behind her and the first priest, Nelek, bustled through, accompanied by two large slaves. He held a wooden box tight to his chest. “Marek Savada has been sighted approaching the temple.”

Ash gave the first priest a low bow. She knew she shouldn’t question him, no one questioned the First Priest of Fausta, but her time of obeying him was almost at an end. “Who is this man, lord?”

Nelek’s pale eyes narrowed and fixed on her. She weathered his hard glare, while her stomach tied itself in knots. “Marek may not be so sympathetic to your constant questions, Ashsara.”

Yes, he always used her full temple name. Nelek wanted no familiarity with the wards. Never had as he rose through the ranks to the highest position in the temple. “I would like to know more about the man who will own me.” She gave Nelek a polite smile. “Is that so wrong?”

He let out a slow sigh and his fleshy fingertips drummed against the wooden box he held to his chest. “Marek has been a custodian for decades, has the ear of the emperor’s house and is respected. Bad blood runs through some of the breed of custodians. But Marek, while not a prime within his Order, is not one of them. We, indeed the whole of Bukhara, are very lucky to have him. You must trust in him, Ashsara.”

Decades. The word brought an unexpected ease to her nerves. He was an old man and an old man’s needs faded. “And the box, lord?”

“I decided a long time ago that I would only answer one of your questions a day, Ashsara.”

Heavy thumps sounded against the outer door and Nelek waved one of the slaves towards it. Ash resettled the strap of her satchel against her shoulder. Her insides still twisted, but the knowledge that Marek was an old man lifted some of his threat. The slave struggled under the weight of moving the heavy bars and the other slave scurried forward to help him pull back the thick door. Light inched into the atrium, a long slice of gold, growing with every heavy breath from the slaves, with the squeal of metal, and the groan of wood, until the door thudded back against the stone wall and opened the temple to the city.

A tall man, as tall as the eunuch priests, was a dark shadow in the high archway. Ash bit her lip. He stood straight, his outline against the brightness lean and strong. An old man the goddess had smiled on? Was that…

All thought wiped away as he strode towards them. Ash sucked in a quick breath. The first thought that burned back into her brain was that he wasn’t old. Far from it. She willed her mouth shut, because she wanted to let it gape and simply hang there. Marek the custodian was a man in his prime, with an angled, male face browned by the sun. His eyes and thick hair were the same color, as dark as shadow, matching his heavy wool cloak and solid leather boots. The memory of Tavio paled beside Marek’s beauty and Ash’s face reddened as she felt the unexpected heavy pull of need low in her flesh.

“Marek.” Nelek hustled forward and gave him a short bow. Marek returned it with a fluid, physical grace that had Ash’s heart beating hard. “Everything is prepared.”

Marek’s dark gaze moved away from the First Priest to slide over her, impersonal, assessing, and Ash couldn’t help herself, she held her breath. “Nothing was said about a ward.” His voice was as dark, as strong as the rest of him and undercut with a hint of anger. “This changes everything, Nelek.”

“The goddess has spoken.” Nelek’s light voice sounded pleasant, reasonable, but Ash knew him. He had risen to his high position for a reason. Very few got the best of the First Priest of the goddess Fausta. “And the emperor has placed his seal upon this action.”

A muscle jumped in Marek’s lean jaw and his gaze, which had never left her, narrowed. Her stomach turned over at the flare of bitter anger burning in him. “Show me.”

“Marek, you doubt—”

“Show me.”

The words were a low growl that lifted the hairs on the back of Ash’s neck and tingled down her spine. Her birthmark burned and the unexpected reaction forced her to bite at her cheek to keep back her gasp.

Nelek clicked his fingers at one of the slaves. The man gave the priest a quick nod and ran back through the smaller door into the priests’ compound. Within moments, he returned with a scroll, around which curved the blood red and gold of the emperor’s seal. Marek took it, broke the seal and scanned the contents. He frowned.

He smacked the scroll back into the slave’s open palm and moved past Nelek. Ash’s heart hammered as he approached her. He stopped close enough for her to breathe in his scent, a mix of leather, unknown spices and male skin. He leaned in. She willed her spine straight, though her fingers crushed the woven strap of her satchel as his mouth hovered over hers.

“Marek!”

Ash ignored Nelek’s shrill voice. Marek’s dark eyes speared her, and she almost lost herself in their endlessness. Her lips parted and she tasted his breath, sweet, hot, and the temptation of his mouth flared her body with desire. The need to tease her tongue over his full bottom lip, to see if he could possibly taste as good as he did in her wildly spinning imagination, drove heat hard through her flesh, tightened her breasts. She ached to press herself against the lean hardness of his body, for him to—

“And this is the best ward you have?” His words spoken against her skin, his lips catching hers in a light caress, broke a gasp from her. “I could bend her over and fuck her right here.”

Ash’s cheeks flamed and she staggered back from him, her spine hitting the cool stone of the atrium wall.

Marek lifted an eyebrow and his eyes gleamed, his gaze roaming over her body as hot and sharp as any of the slaves who had watched her. “Yank up your robe.”

Two strides and he was almost pressed against her. His male scent, the strength of his body, pulsed through her, bringing with it a raw panic and a mortifying need. They’d said he wouldn’t want this, that the custodian would protect her. His lips teased the shell of her ear and liquid fire flickered low in her belly.

“Want me to breach you, ward?”

Ash cried out as he cupped her, his fingers pressing against the hot, aching flesh between her thighs. “All right, let’s give the eunuch a show.”

“Marek!”

Nelek tugged at his arm, but Ash knew it was as if the first priest tugged at iron. Marek shoved the priest away. His finger curled and the sudden sharp flare of almost overwhelming pleasure arched her into him. “Are you a ward?”

He growled the words against her lips and the ache for him to kiss her, the surge of unknown heat tearing up through her flesh made her heart pound. She didn’t want to talk, she wanted to taste him, thread her fingers through his thick hair and crush his mouth to hers.

“Are you?” His finger pressed a slow circle into her flesh and she had to grab at his shoulders, her breath little more than pants. “Show me. Show us all.”

She found his mouth, her teeth grazing his bottom lip, teasing him, tasting him. A tremor ran through her body. He tasted… Her thoughts called out to her goddess. He tasted incredible. Sweet and spiced and the strange prickle of his bristled chin sparked fire in her veins. The pulse low in her belly deepened, expanded, the heat surging…but it wasn’t pleasure. She cried out and a violent wave smashed into Marek, throwing him away from her. He staggered back but a dark grin cut his mouth.

“All right, she’s a ward.” He straightened his long cloak and his attention fixed on the box Nelek held. “But this is still not what we agreed.”

Ash stared at Marek, her body weak, boneless. What had just happened? He’d had his hand… She stared down her shift and blushed at the wet stain and creases marring the white material. Ash pressed her trembling fingers to her lips and tasted him, the first man she had ever kissed. “What did you do?”

Marek ignored her and took the box. The wood almost glowed now, a patina that she was certain hadn’t been there as Nelek held it. “Get her a cloak.”

The first priest nodded to a slave, who darted back into the priest compound. Ash watched him run before she pushed herself away from the wall. Her legs trembled, feeling more like water than flesh. The slave reappeared, breathing hard and with a white cloak draped across his strong arms. He presented it to her with a low bow.

Ash blinked, still disoriented. A wild fire had burned in her flesh and brought with it a strange sense of power. But then something had changed, distorted it and flung that fire at Marek. That made no sense. Was impossible—

“Put the cloak on.”

Marek drawled the words, as if talking to a child, and her pride kicked in. Ash gave the slave a short smile and slid the cloak around her shoulders, quick fingers fastening the large buttons to the front and at her shoulder. Still Marek frowned at her.

“White,” he muttered. He pointed to the slave beside her. “Put her hood up.”

“I can—” But the man was too eager to obey the custodian and arranged the heavy hood over her hair. “What difference does it make?”

Mark snorted. “None, obviously.” He let out a tight breath, reached for the clasps on his own cloak and shrugged it off his shoulders into the waiting hands of the second slave. “She has to wear this.”

The first slave made quick work of removing her white cloak. Within moments, she was covered in heavy, dark wool and her heart beat hard. His scent, the warmth of his body shrouded her, the sense of him being wrapped around her and her inability to escape him burned the blood under her cheeks. And the man watched her. She couldn’t help the slide of her gaze down his body. His lean torso, emphasized by the long, dark leather tunic with its heavy chest buckles, flared more heated thoughts. Ash didn’t understand her instant reaction, her instant need for this stranger. She had to fight it. “I demand—”

“Silence.”

The order was a low growl that skittered down her spine and ignited the twists of her birthmark. Ash clamped her jaw together, an involuntary action, and she stared at him as he turned to Nelek. Anger burned under her skin. How had he done that? Stopped her mid-sentence?

He dug into the breast pocket of his long tunic and retrieved a coin. It caught the light and the harsh glare of brass stung her eyes. Marek pressed the coin into Nelek’s palm. Payment. For her. “You’re new to your role. If we are to do further business, in the future I must be forewarned.”

Nelek’s fingers closed over the brass disc. “We act only as the goddess directs.”

“Of course you do.” Marek snapped his fingers at Ash and she stumbled forward. He gripped her hand and the contact surged through her. Hot, callused fingers dug into her palm, breaking the spell he had wrapped around her.

Spell. Her heart jumped and her breath caught in her throat. He practiced magic?

“Ready?”

Ash found herself under hard scrutiny. She fought to focus. Everything about the man had her thrown off balance. She’d heard whisper of magic-users from the slaves, the wet nurses, but never thought… Had that been him? Had he magicked up the riot of whatever-it-was tearing from her flesh? Well, damn him. He wouldn’t get that chance to play with her again. A little voice at the back of her mind laughed at her. Yes, she was ignoring the tightness of her breasts, the hard pinch of her nipples, the throb low in her flesh that came with simply wearing his cloak.

Ash gritted her teeth and lifted her chin. He would not control her. “I do as the goddess directs.”

Marek raised an eyebrow and his beauty, the remembered taste of his skin on her tongue, ran hot through her thoughts. “You’re a dangerous ward,” he murmured. “Too free with your power.”

“I’m ready to leave.”

“And they chose not to share that knowledge with you.” He glanced back to Nelek and a frown further wrinkled the first priest’s face. “Let us hope this is a wise decision.”

Mark turned and drew Ash after him, as if she were some animal on an unseen rope, her borrowed cloak dragging over the stone floor. She bunched it in her hand and walked at his side. She wasn’t some recalcitrant child to be dragged behind him. Ash let that prideful anger sit in her thoughts. It pushed down the fear of what her life now was with this man.

She stepped out of the arched doorway and the heavy door thudded shut behind her. Marek’s hand hardened around hers. Had he felt that unwanted tremor? Ash gritted her teeth and again willed one foot in front of the other. She had walked away from Rani. She could cross the narrow yard to the outer gate.

The air tasted different, the acrid burn of smoke and the thick stink of the city heavy in her lungs. Her throat tightened. Somehow, the air inside the temple remained pure, untainted. Her thoughts jumped. More magic? She’d never believed and yet her life seemed to be shrouded in it.

Guards in shining steel-plate armor saluted and two of them cranked pulleys to lift and part the heavy metal doors. The screech and thump of the mechanism set her teeth on edge. She had only ever watched the doors opening from one of the highest bell towers, the intricate slide of metal over metal a silent show. Now, she waited, her heart in her throat as the last barrier of the temple parted before her.

The vast area of Emperor Square stretched out before them. Wagons trundled along the deep grooves cut into the stone, worn down by the centuries. Three men on bow-backed nags clopped around them, wicker panniers heavy with fish. Already, the first-hour crowd milled through the first stalls, the noise of their chatter, of men and women unfolding benches and the hawkers’ voices echoing across the square. It was the third day of the month and the surrounding farms brought their produce in to sell, setting up their carts and stalls between the temples and tall civic buildings.

A man crying out the virtues of his leeks and onions faltered as he caught sight of them. His face blanched. Laughing children staggered to a gasping halt at her side. Then swift murmurs passed through the crowd. People fell back in a slow wave, none of them taking their attention from Marek. Ash glanced at him, wanted to see what had the sharp scent of fear clinging to the people, but she saw only his stark beauty, gilded by the slants of light as the sun climbed over the Basilica of Pluvius.

A man stepped out of the crowd, tall and dark like Marek. He wore the same leather, buckled tunic, though his was pitted and stained. “Out in the first hour, Marek Savada.”

“I’ve no time for this.”

“I warned you—”

“You didn’t warn me, Jasha.” Marek side-stepped the man, the crowd of people shrinking back, still needing to keep their distance. Street soldiers in burnished armor moved through the knots of people, but they stopped at the edge of the crowd. Whatever was happening was not their business. None of the citizens of Bukhara seemed eager to leave the square. So much for her protection. Marek pulled danger to him. “You got drunk and mouthed off. Now you feel obliged to act out your drunken threat.” He paused and the strange silence of the square hung heavy. “Don’t.”

“You’re a canker within the Order. Unnatural. Unwanted. You survive only on your reputation.”

But Jasha was turned on his heel as Marek walked straight past him, Ash trotting fast at his side. A gaggle of women stared, leaning in to get a good look at her under her heavy hood. Ash jerked away.

“My reputation is deserved.” Marek snorted. “You’ve not lived in the city long enough to know this.”

“Face me.”

Jasha’s low growl ran a chill over her skin, but it didn’t stir the dark birthmark on her spine. That seemed reserved for Marek’s voice. But still, his threat tightened her gut. Marek’s hand remained fast around hers and she drew a strange comfort from it.

“I will take what you hold.”

Marek stopped and Ash could almost feel the weight that settled on him. “Don’t do this, Jasha.”

“You can’t ignore this challenge to your right to be a custodian.”

Marek closed his eyes and for a long moment, he simply breathed. “Fine, if this is what you want.” He half-turned to face Jasha, but his attention fixed on her. “Hold this.” He eased his hand free of hers and presented her with the shiny, wooden box. His fingertips brushed hers and a spark of heat surged, forcing a gasp.

“Stop doing that!” she muttered.

A smile tugged at Marek’s mouth. “It’s not me.” But then he frowned. “Hold it tight to your chest.”

Ash pressed the side of the box against her cloak and dug her fingers around its sharp edges. The wood was cool against her palms and wrists and she had the strange sensation of a pattern against her skin, though the box was plain. “What is this?”

“That’s not your concern. Keep it safe.” He pointed to the cobbles, marking a place two feet away from him. “Stand there.”

Ash resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Any more orders?”

“Yes, don’t interfere.” Marek faced Jasha, rubbing his hands together. He straightened his shoulders. “I’m giving you the chance to walk away, Jasha.”

The man laughed. “Is this what all the others have done? Turned and ran? You’re nothing more than a first-rank custodian leeching from the Order.”

“I have that rank for a reason.”

Jasha raised his hands. Light flashed and arced between his palms, and the stink of hot metal filled the warm morning air. As one, the crowd moved back and Ash had the need to scramble back with them. What kind of magic was this?

She tore her gaze from the stark, blue-white light writhing over the other man’s palms and stared at Marek. Or what she could see of him as she stood behind his left shoulder. She thought she caught the bright burn of light sparking over his fingers too. What were they going to do? Lash each other with whips of lightning?

Jasha sprang forward. Marek blocked him with a raised arm. Light surged over them, and the hollow ring of thick metal echoed. Marek grabbed at his upper arms, bunching the leather of his opponent’s stained tunic. “Stop this now.” His order was little more than a growl as he fought to hold him, both men’s boots scuffing over the uneven cobbles.

Jasha bared his teeth, his face twisted in anger. “No.”

He pushed hard against Marek’s chest, but the custodian was already moving, his leg and then his foot smashing into Jasha’s shin. The low clang of metal rang out and Jasha lost his balance. Marek was ready for him and shifted his weight, hurling the man to the right and down. Jasha’s cry cut short as he slammed into the hard stone of the square. No metal clanged and the surge of lightning around his hands flickered and died.

Marek crushed his foot against the man’s throat. “I have proven my right to hold.” The words came out harsh, tight, his chest heaving as he pulled in needed air. He twisted his boot heel and Jasha’s fingers scrabbled at its worn leather. “Say it.”

“You…”

Marek bent down, his face close to the sweating man. The stink of light churning over his hands drifted across the silent air. “Yes?”

Ash, her heart in her throat, strained to listen to his gurgled whisper…but she couldn’t catch the words. The watching crowd was with her, leaning in as close as they dared to witness Jasha’s defeated admission. Whatever it was, it satisfied Marek who lifted his boot and yanked the man to his feet.

Jasha rubbed at his neck, his face still red and sweaty. He gave Marek a short bow. “Marek Savada.” His pale gaze flicked over her and then he broke back into the tight thong.

“Well?” Marek addressed the crowd and as one, they scattered. He turned back to her and took the box from her bloodless fingers. “Time to go.”

Chapter Two

“What did he say to you?”

Marek wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her close to his side. He strode across the square, weaving to the left of the Emperor’s Platform. “I defended my reputation. He agreed it was deserved.”

The wild rush of the fight had her blood hot and made her mouth quick. “And that’s it?”

He stared at her. A frown line creased his forehead. “You ask too many questions for a temple woman.”

Slaves busied themselves on the raised stones, constructing an awning against the promised heat of the late-summer sun. They stopped…and scurried away from the balustrade, their attention fixed on Marek. Was the whole of Bukhara terrified of this man? Their fear kicked some sense into Ash. She was trapped with him until the goddess said otherwise. “This,” she lifted her hand that he held, “has me confused. Rani—the warden priest—only told me last night that I was sold—”

“Sold?” His mouth thinned. “I hate dealing with priests.” His fingers flexed around hers and she thought she caught a wince pulling at his cheek. “I gave them a mark, a promise of intent. I will remain your custodian for as long as the temple sees fit.”

The temple? The next question burned on her tongue and she couldn’t fight the need to say it. “They can decide when I go back?”

“If.”

The single word had her gut twisting tight. She knew it wasn’t her right to question the goddess and she had always accepted the priests’ readings…but none of them had ever thrown a ward from the haven of the temple. If a ward left, she took the trek to another shrine in the empire. She was not shoved at a stranger. That fear and frustration worked its way through her thoughts again. She pinched at the bridge of her nose. “Why is this happening?” she muttered.

“Ashsara, stop asking questions.”

He knew her full name…and he hadn’t been witness to Nelek saying it. She wanted to ask if it had been written on the order from the emperor—and her name being known to the emperor himself scared her—but she didn’t ask. It twisted her gut even tighter. Not knowing something had always burned under her skin.

Marek turned down the first of the trident roads leading away from the square and found a thick wall of people. All her thoughts scattered. A covered litter, hoisted up on poles and carried by twelve burly slaves, pushed through the sea of people pouring into the market. The linen covers flapped and Ash caught the narrowed gaze of an imperial matron.

Ash blinked and averted her eyes. Too many people flowed around her—not close because Marek instilled a cold terror—but she had never been in the presence of so many strangers. Straggly-bearded men, ragamuffin children weaving through and around the adults, chattering women, branded slaves and every one of them seemed to belong to a different race within the empire of Bukhara.

She breathed against the tight pain in her chest, denying the rise of panic. She chanted the familiar morning prayers under her breath, words that formed an easing rhythm, reminding her of the press of cool marble under her cheek and the gentle murmurs of the other wards.

Marek turned again, breaking out of the fast flow of people headed into the square. The narrow alley lay thick with shadows, no natural light touching it that early in the morning. Oil lamps hung from iron bars bolted to the walls, casting a yellow light down over the cobbles. Shutters opened to the street and flattened against the plastered walls. Through the long windows, light sliced over the great gray curve of an oven, the baker already lifting baked bread from the bright embers.

The scent of the warm bread forced a growl from her stomach. Yes, she’d not had anything to eat since she’d poked her supper around on its metal platter the night before. The decision that she was to leave the temple had robbed her of her appetite.

Marek stopped. He released her hand and white, stinking light shrouded his fist. He pressed his knuckles against a set of heavy, blue-painted doors. There was a dull thunk and the doors swung inwards. The light died around his fingers and he took her arm. “Inside.”

Her stomach knotted and not from the harsh bite of hunger. She stared along the corridor into the dimly lit atrium. This was her life now, in this house, with this stranger.

“Don’t worry, Ashsara.”

She had to ask. “Was my name on the scroll? Does the emperor know who I am?”

“Yes.”

Marek pushed her up onto the wide doorstep and then into the shadowy coolness of the hall. He pushed the door closed behind him. The heavy thud made her heart jump. Marek stood behind her, almost pressing his body into hers, and eased back the heavy hood of her cloak.

Ash sucked in a sharp breath and all the memory of him, of his taste, of the curl of his fingers against her most intimate flesh, rushed her. His lips found her ear. Ash shivered and she fought down the quick, hot rise of need in her veins. She closed her eyes. Her wild attraction made no sense. Was it simply her time in the temple making her susceptible to the first hard male body she met? Her fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palm. Dwelling on Marek’s beauty? No, not a wise thought.

“Sweet as you taste, I think I can resist you.” He paused and his breath heated her skin, the pulse low in her belly seeming to fill all her senses. “Well, almost.” He smiled against the shell of her ear and her heart squeezed. “I have need of you now.”

Marek skimmed down her shoulder until he took her hand again, his warm, callused fingers pressing into her palm. He tugged her forward and she stumbled after him, her heart beating too hard.

The walls of the corridor were a blur and Marek skirted the atrium pool, leading her into a small room. He pushed her back until her calves hit a low bunk. “Sit.”

She obeyed him. The warm darkness pressed against her and she tried to stare through it, listen for movement, her body expecting Marek’s touch, fearing it, craving it. She gasped at the sudden arc of burning white light. It illuminated him as he stood beside an oil lamp hanging low on the smooth wall. Darkness swept around them again before another spark dipped into the glass bowl. Soft light filled the room, casting brown shadow into the corners.

The first pull and stretch of the leather strap and buckle on his tunic knotted her hands in her lap. Another followed and another. It was the loudest sound in the room, rising above her pounding heart, short breaths and the crack and hiss of the wick in the lamp. Marek shrugged off the tunic and dropped it over a wooden chair tucked against the wall. He tugged at his loose, linen undershirt and pulled it over his head.

Ash pressed her thighs together, but it did nothing to ease the hard pulse of her flesh. The golden light caressed his hard-muscled torso and her mouth dried. The need to run her mouth over him in quick kisses, to trace and tease her tongue along the silver scars criss-crossing his skin filled her, and her awakened imagination ran wild.

Marek tilted his head and ran his fingers down his chest. “I can feel your need building.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s powerful, wild. Yes, I can see why the priests made you a ward for this box.”

She wanted to look away from him, see where he’d placed the box he’d hugged to his body—and hers—since leaving the temple, but she couldn’t. She could only stare at his mouth, her own lips burning, eager to find him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that a part of your power? This ignorance?” He took a step closer and the need to snap at him for his insult died on her tongue. Marek stroked her jaw, his thumb pressing against her bottom lip. He traced its edge. He was a dark shadow looming over her and it quickened her pulse. “Then I must be careful with you.”

“Marek…”

She almost groaned his name and Ash didn’t know whether she was asking him to stop or for him to…what? Her imagination failed her. She knew nothing of men, had only caught brief glimpses of slaves, as the eunuchs kept a careful eye on all of their wards.

Marek tilted her chin up and he bent, dipping his mouth down to hers. His lips hovered, the tiny distance he kept between them driving need and frustration in a wild rush through her body. “What would you like me to do, Ashsara?” His voice soft, deep and so very…male…fluttered her eyes shut. His hot breath teased her parched lips. “Kiss you? Or would you like my mouth on your body? On your breasts? Between your thighs?”

A gasp escaped her at the thought of Marek’s hot mouth kissing her in such an intimate place.

“Ah yes, that’s what you want.” His smiling words brushed his lips against hers. “I’d kiss you, let my tongue tease over your flesh, curl and bury itself deep inside you. Oh and then I’d fuck you so slowly. So thoroughly.”

His words burned through her, stirring the hot beat of her blood. Already the powerful surge that he had brought to her in the atrium of the temple rode fast through her body. Her breathing came hard and she fought the wild wave that would burst out against him and leave her boneless and still aching.

“Imagine me there.”

She bit out a silent curse against him, because she could see him between her bare, parted thighs, the slow movement of his dark head, his callused hands gripping her pale skin.

“Feel me there.” And both of his hands lifted the heavy material of her cloak. He skimmed his fingertips along her thin shift and then his palms rested hot against her legs. His thumbs pressed into soft skin and with a hard grin, he parted her thighs.

Light and heat smashed out of her, surging around Marek in a voracious wave. His hands tightened against her legs, pinning her to the bunk as he arched against the assault. Marek’s low groan ebbed into her boneless body.

“I may grow used to you,” he murmured, and he let out a heavy breath. His hands eased their hard hold on her thighs and he brushed a light, teasing kiss across her mouth.

Her heart still hammered and she stared up at him. “Why…” She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Why did you do that again?”

“Jasha pulled power from me and wrenched my arm.” He rotated his left shoulder. “And your…sweetness…cured me.”

Ash stared at him, hating him, because that was preferable to the sick feeling twisting her stomach. “You used me.”

“The temple wants you protected. If I’m to defend what you are…” He shrugged. “It would take me days to renew my strength.”

“So you thought you’d what, just play with me?” His smile was wicked and a freshened heat washed down through her flesh. Her mouth thinned. She hated that he could force such a reaction from her. “I’m certain that this isn’t what the priests consider defending me.”

“The priests care about the box and its contents, Ashsara, not you. As long as you remain its ward I can do exactly what I like with you.” He dug his fingers into his shoulder, flexing the strong muscles in his arm. “And I will.”

The solid clang of a bell echoed and Ash sucked in a quick breath. Marek frowned, grabbed his shirt and disappeared into the broken shadows of the corridor. He closed the door and the heavy clunk of a lock engaged.

Ash fought down the swift surge of panic and crossed the short distance to the door. She pressed her ear to the crack where the door fitted into its frame and held her breath. Ash had no qualms about eavesdropping. The priests in the temple were secretive and well, she was nosy.

The low groan of the front doors opening filled the silence.

“Caught you at the wrong moment, Marek?” A man’s voice echoed down the corridor, quickly followed by his deep laughter. “I heard it from the baker that you had a woman with you.”

“Donel…” Irritation lined Marek’s voice. “You have something for me?”

“You’re not going to introduce me? You bring a woman to your lair and you’re half-stripped? That I lived to see the day.”

Silence stretched and Ash could imagine the hard glare on Marek’s angled face.

“Fine. Let’s go to your office—”

“Here.”

Another ripple of more disbelieving laughter escaped Donel. “She must have charms indeed. Where’s she from, Marek? If she can turn your head she must be luscious.”

More silence.

Donel gave a long sigh. “This is what I have.” The rub of leather against leather and the clank of metal followed his words. Ash pressed her ear tight against the crack and strained to identify what made the noises. “Pouches from Senator Artus, a matron from the Quirline hills, Mallena Roch and this from a knight, Errend Tova.” Donel paused. “Their individual down-payments.” More leather and sharper clinks. “I agreed to favorable terms.”

“In your favor?”

“You’re a custodian. Would I risk my hide for a few silver rupels?”

“You’d sell your children for a brass para.” Boots scuffed on the floor tiles. “I’ll arrange the marks. Now, it’s time for you to leave.”

“I will see her, Marek. You can’t hide her for—”

The heavy wood of the doors thunked into place and Ash stepped back from her position by the room door. She straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t afraid to let him know she’d been listening. The lock turned and clunked and the door swung inwards.

“Old temple habit?” he asked. “Take the lamp.” He stood back and waved her out of the small room, whilst holding odd-shaped leather pouches and a cloth-wrapped golden statuette in the crook of his arm.

Ash ignored his observation and gave him a question of her own. “You’re a collector? Is that what a custodian is?” She unhooked the oil lamp, careful of the hot glass bowl, and held it out in front of her. Light shifted and she shone the lamp down the corridor. Smooth stone pillars glinted and stood at the entranceway to a small room with closed shutters and a large table. To the left of the pillars was another set of double doors.

“Something like that.” He retrieved the plain box from the top of the small cupboard and nodded for her to carry on down the narrow corridor. “Stop.” He elbowed open the doors to the left of the pillars. “Lead the way, Ashsara.”

The glow of her lamp revealed stone-topped steps leading down into the earth. Her heart tightened. Was this where he stored his horde of treasures? She took the first step down and then another, the air growing thick and warm, the scent of the packed earth walls filling her senses.

The steps ended in an open arch and beyond were wooden cabinets. Ash put her lamp on the square table sitting in the center of the room and Marek followed with the treasures he held. He moved away with the box from the temple and a moment later, there was the creak of an opening drawer.

Ash watched him, but then a movement caught in the corner of her eye. The statuette’s cloth had slipped and revealed the sculpted perfection cast into the pale gold. It gleamed in the soft light. Ash traced her finger over its exquisite profile. In a strange way, he was as beautiful as Marek. Her finger curled away. She didn’t want to dwell on Marek’s handsome face…and what he planned to do with her.

“So you store treasures for people?”

“I’m a custodian. Some people have…treasures…that are too valuable to remain in their homes. I offer a service. I guard them.”

How could she make the temple her past? It had followed her to this house in the form of a box.

Ash blinked. The thieves had broken into the temple, hunting for something. Was that something the square wooden box? But then what was she? Marek had used her to heal himself, some form of power that smashed out of her under his words and caresses. Her gut knotted and she gripped the sharp edge of the table. It was another form of magic. She was another form of magic. As Marek supposedly protected her, she protected the box. “What did we bring from the temple? What did the thieves want?”

Marek closed the drawer. “I guard. I don’t question.”

“And they pay you for that too?”

He picked up the leather bags and turned to another drawer. She ignored the close brush of his body. A dark smile pulled at his mouth and she knew that he deliberately taunted her, keeping her on edge. Keeping her ready for him. “Yes, they do.”

“Am I payment?”

He paused. “More of a bonus.” He closed the drawer on the leather pouches and returned to the table for the statuette. Picking it up, he turned it to the light and a frown creased his forehead. “Beautiful workmanship,” he murmured. “A knight owns this treasure?” He snorted softly. “No, he looted this from a northern prince.”

He’d dismissed her so easily, seemed more concerned with the provenance of the statuette than the fact that he would taunt her for her…her magic whenever he pleased. “What am I, Marek?” Anger was a tight fist in her chest, fueled by her tired, hungry body. “What did the priests do to me?” Pain undercut the fury. Rani had to have known what they’d turned her into, known and never said. “And why?”

“They didn’t pay me to answer your questions.” He moved away and opened another drawer. The statuette found its home.

She snorted. “I’m paying you. I healed you. So tell me.”

“Don’t waste your anger on me, Ashsara.” Marek picked up the lamp and shadows thickened across the cellar. “I heard your stomach. We both need breakfast.”

He strode from the cellar, taking the light with him. As the darkness closed over her, Ash fought down her panic and followed him up the short flight of steps. “I could be here for a long time.” The words made her pause. How long would she be with this man? If the priests feared for the safety of their stupid box, would they ever let it—and her—return to their temple? Years. Her stomach turned over. It could be years before she left Marek’s house. “And you intend to ignore me?”

“Ashsara…”

Her temple name stung. She wasn’t that woman anymore, praying for the good fortune of the city from dawn until dusk. She was a slave to a plain little box and the man who guarded it. “Ash,” she muttered. “Ashsara was my holy name.”

Marek stopped on the last stair and stared down at her. He wiped his hand over his jaw. “I hate working with priests.” He let out a slow breath. “We have to eat…Ash.” Marek pushed open the door and allowed her to precede him.

Food and then at least some form of explanation. It was the best she could hope for right then.

Ash leaned against one of the small kitchen’s walls while Marek moved around the white-plastered room with quiet efficiency. The lamp brought light to the room, mixing with the shaft of weak light from the grille above the oven and the open arch that led back through the garden. It wafted the soft scent of fruit trees into the cramped space, not the soothing scents of chamomile and wild jasmine, but the hint of pears, of ripening apples eased the empty ache under her heart…and also reminded her of her hunger. She focused on something else. “You have no slaves?”

“I have occasional use for them. Donel’s most trusted slave cleans here, but that’s all.” He lifted covered jars from the small, dark pantry and put them on the bench. “I prefer to source and prepare my own food.” He pointed to a stack of metal platters on a shelf to the left of the low fireplace. “Get two of those.”

Ash wondered if he knew the word please, but she did as he ordered and set the plates on the scrubbed table. Marek spooned olives, raisins and honey onto both platters. A chunk of white cheese and bread joined them. He poured a little red wine into two beakers and filled it to the brim with water from a jug.

“Sit,” he said, pointing to the low stool.

Ash dropped her behind onto it, still staring at her full platter. Her breakfast, taken in the third hour, had always been a simple meal of cracker bread and water from the temple well. “You always eat like this?”

“Ash.” He waved a chunk of bread at her before he dipped it into his wine. “Are you going to question everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief smile flickered across his mouth and she fought not to echo it. He kept catching her out, this Marek Savada. Hard, cruel…but then a hint of humor. Her ignored stomach growled again and she attacked the bread and cheese, happily mixing in olives. With her belly on the way to being full, tiredness crept into her bones, yet she still had to have some of her answers. She lifted her cup, hoping the aroma of wine clinging to the water would snap her awake. “So my answers?” She took a brief sip. “I have magic, yes? A ward means something other than having the temple as my guardian.”

“Wards are human, ones bound to protect an object of importance. Kill them and the treasure remains sealed forever.” He shrugged. “The most difficult ward to cultivate—and the strongest—is the virgin ward.” He lifted his cup. “I salute the Temple of Fausta. It appears to have an efficient system in place.”

Ash blinked, the cup still at her lips. Every one of the women she’d grown up with, the small girls and babies she’d played with, every one of them was little more than a means to an end. She’d spent her days being so grateful to the goddess and her priests for rescuing her from the Street of Cries. She willed herself not to bang her cup back on the table. “They used all of us.”

Marek shrugged and wiped his last hunk of bread through the smear of honey remaining on the platter. “Welcome to Bukhara.”

“This is not funny!”

He paused and looked up, his eyes dark, stern. “No, it isn’t. I was hired for a job and I’ve been forced into taking in a ward by the emperor. As split as his power is, I have to obey him. As I would the Senior Prime of my Order.” His head tilted and his dark smile, the one that warmed her flesh, curved across his mouth. “Though you bring unexpected benefits.”

Ash felt the blush rise under her cheeks. “About that.” She straightened, embarrassment gripping her…but he had offered her a way out. She planned to exploit it. “If I’m to guard this box, you can’t…” She waved her hand, not wanting to give a name to the riot of desire he flashed through her body. “You can’t use me. I must remain untouched. Your oath—”

Marek laughed. “Oh, I can fuck a virgin ward, Ash. Take you every way I could possibly want. My oath is for the treasure, not the other guardians. The problem is yours. That wild rush you get, the one that smashed into me? That was your defense, your protection of the box and your release. You can never find your own pleasure.”

“That…you…” She couldn’t find the words to answer him. The idea of doing whatever he wanted with her had her blood hot and her heart pounding, but the knowledge that she would never find true pleasure, that she would always feed him with her magic dulled the rush. “So a virgin ward is unbreachable?” she murmured.

“It takes ancient magic to break something as powerful as you, Ash.” He stared around his small kitchen. “And not even ancient magic can fight its way through into this house.”

Ash stared at the few remains of food on her plate, her appetite gone. She hated and craved Marek. It made no sense, and by the goddess, she was simply dead tired. She pushed her stool away from the table and stood. Ash found it hard to look him in the eye. Rani was wrong. She would be Marek’s whore. “As you’ve just eaten, you’re unlikely to want to fuck me now. Where can I sleep?”

He was silent and she forced herself to meet his gaze. She couldn’t read him, but that could be the heavy ache of tiredness suddenly gripping her. Marek pointed through the open arch. “The stairs to the upper floor are across the garden. Take the smallest room.”

“Thank you.” She murmured the courtesy out of habit and left the kitchen. A bed, a few hours of dreamless sleep and after that maybe she would be able to think more clearly. Though her circumstances would not have changed. Marek planned to use her however he wished. Ash hated that her body grew warm at the thought.

The wooden stairs led to a balcony that overlooked the garden below. Ash opened several doors until she found the smallest of the bedrooms. The single, small window was shuttered against the light and a low bunk stretched out under it. Ash closed the door, sinking the room into further darkness, pulled off her sandals and curled up under the thin blankets. The noise of the outside world, of the clatter of workmen, the cries and laughter of children, and somewhere below she heard Marek stacking dishes. All the sounds pressed over her. Strange and—if she weren’t tired and full of food—disturbing. Ash shifted to create a comfortable dip in the soft rushes, closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

But she awoke with a start. She could hear breathing in the room with her. Her fingers fumbled for the latch on the shutters and tugged one of them free. Morning sunlight slanted into the room, cutting across the end of her bed and hitting the man standing there.

Ash let out a wild yelp and tried to scramble from the twisted covers.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Ash.”

Something about his voice seemed vaguely familiar, a smooth deepness that eased under her skin and stopped her struggles with the trapping blankets. Ash fought to focus on him. She couldn’t know him. The only men she knew were the few slaves she had seen working in the priests’ market garden and Marek. Her stranger was dark like Marek and held that man’s lean, flawless male beauty.

A smile curved his mouth and her heart squeezed, the first flush of interest running hot through her body. Damn it, did she have no shame?

Her stranger’s smile deepened. “You know, this isn’t quiet real.” He looked over the low ceiling before returning his dark gaze to her. “You’re asleep, Ash. So really there’s no need for shame.”

Heat bloomed in her chest. “How did you…?”

“This is a dream. Your thoughts weave around you in strings of soft light…and I can see them as clearly as the rise and fall of your breasts.”

Ash yanked the blanket up over her shift, her face flaming. She closed her eyes. “I want to wake up. I need to wake up.” She said the words out loud, clear, sharp. Ash opened her eyes expecting to find darkness and her sudden madness over…but the man simply smiled at her.

“It’s not that simple.”

He moved around the edge of the bed and Ash kept her attention fixed on him. He flicked open the first button of his shirt. Her breath dried and her breasts tightened. And damn, what had the priests done to her to make her so eager?

He laughed, something rich, warm and laced with wickedness. “Now, Ash.” He flicked another button on his linen shirt and she couldn’t look away from the hint of brown flesh he revealed. “The priests of Fausta gave you a gift. Something beautiful. Something to be shared.”

He tugged the shirt over his head and dropped it beside the bed. Sunlight edged the lean hardness of his chest and the memory of Marek burned through her.

“Him?” he asked.

He tugged at the belt that held his breeches and Ash’s heart lodged in her throat. She tore her gaze away, her eyes fixed on the bloodless grip she had on the blanket. Her heart beat hard. He said it was a dream, but she couldn’t believe it, not deep down…and the thought of his bare body panicked her.

“He is crude,” he murmured. His breeches puddled at his bared feet. “No finesse. His only desire is to use you.”

“Who are you?” She kept her gaze on his feet, torn between keeping her eyes exactly there, or letting them roam up the muscled length of his calves, his thighs and stare openly at his nakedness. It’s a dream. That wicked little whisper burned through her thoughts. It is…

“My name is Lucas.”

His name warmed through her and the knowledge that she dwelt in the safety of a dream gave her courage. Her gaze skirted up his legs, heat burning in her face and she stared at his erect cock. Ash had no memory of ever seeing one, but she must have to be imagining Lucas there with her. Her gaze snapped up to his face and her blush deepened. “How are you here?”

“Ash, questions are dull.”

Lucas eased her back onto the bed and she let him. His warm fingers brushed over hers, easing her tight grip on her blankets. He pulled the cover free and that joined his clothes on the floor. His brief, wicked smile had her heart thudding. Leaning over her, he teased a finger over her collarbone and traced a path to the peak of her nipple. She gasped, her hips twisting involuntarily. What kind of dream was this?

“He offered you choices…”

Ash blinked. Was that it? Was she acting out what Marek had offered her, what her body craved? Feeling wanton, she tugged her shift up over her thighs. The sharp gleam in Lucas’ eyes tightened her flesh and gave her the courage to pull the material higher up over her hips and bare herself to him.

“More?” The heat in his voice echoed in her blood, his gaze fixed on the juncture of her thighs. He wet his lips. “Let me see all of you.”

Her heart in her throat, Ash pulled her shift over her head and lay naked before him. Heat beat in her face and the tight ache low in her belly increased…but still she looked at him, certain of what she wanted. “I want your mouth on me.”

Lucas sucked in a quick breath and his cock twitched. “All over?” He paused. “May I bury my face between your thighs and lick and eat you?”

The fire of need pounded through her. She could only nod, her body already trembling and she almost cried out at the first brush of his mouth against her breast. Her spine arched into him and Lucas’ low laughter shot liquid heat deep into her belly. He straddled her, the warmth, the strength of his body, the press of his hard cock into her thigh driving fresh desire through her flesh.

“You taste…” His murmur died away and his tongue teased the underside of her breast, her ribs, the curve of her belly. “Never, never have I tasted anyone like you. Sweet.” He nibbled low across her belly and she gasped. “Succulent. So…”

His lips brushed her mound and her heart stopped. He was so close to where she ached for him, his breath hot against her skin. His fingers eased over her thighs, parting her before him. Yes, she wanted this. She wanted his mouth, his tongue on her as Marek had described, curling, teasing her. Fucking her.

She felt his grin against her and his fingers dug into the firm flesh of her thighs, pinning her to the bed. “I will give you all those things. I promise.” He paused and Ash met his dark gaze. Golden fire lurked in him and the promise of it, the promise of wild and wicked pleasure called to something deep and old in her. “And more. I will give you your every desire, if that is what you wish.”

The gleam in his eyes, the fire, panicked her. This was wrong. Lucas, the dream, was wrong … but then his tongue curled against her and she was lost. He licked through her folds, teasing, finding a spot that almost had her bucking off the bed. His hard hands let her down and the thought of his control, of him taking her—

His low, satisfied growl rippled through her flesh and his tongue pushed harder, meeting a resistance that had her aching, desperate for him to break.

“Fuck me.” She muttered the words under her breath and tangled her fingers in Lucas’ hair, beyond caring that he, that what she was doing was wrong. He had to take her, bury his tongue inside her and make her scream.

“Yes…” The word was raw and harsh against her damp flesh. Her blood pounded. Already, the tight heat low in her belly pulsed, thickened and she shook, her body hardly her own. He had to do what he promised, bury his tongue inside, so deep and fast, fucking her until… “First my tongue then my cock. Your pussy and your ass. You’ll be so thoroughly and deliciously breached—”

“Yes.” Ash tried to arch against him, against the wickedness of his words, the fire in her body almost impossible to deny. “Yes, I—”

“Ashsara!”

Darkness broke over her and hard hands yanked her from her bed. Marek loomed over her, breathing hard, the light from the open doorway hugging him. “What are you doing?”

Confused, her body on fire, the need for her to find another man to finish what Lucas had started made her cover Marek’s mouth, stroke her tongue over his. His taste, its hot sweetness scorched through her. She wanted him. Now. Hard. Fast. She needed…

Marek crushed her body hard to his and deepened their kiss, his groan tearing through her flesh. She clutched at his hair, grinding her hips against the hardness of his erection. Her own groan mixing with his as his hand tugged at her shift, finding the bare skin beneath. She could imagine him naked like Lucas—

Light danced behind her eyes…and then Marek was grunting, his arms tight around her body as her magic smashed into him in a wild rush.

Ash pulled her mouth from his and her head dropped to his shoulder. Some of her ache was gone, but not enough and a sourness twisted her gut. She hated this. Hated it. Marek held her up, his breathing harsh and hot against her ear.

“Damn you…” she murmured.

“Damn us both,” he said.

Chapter Three

Marek eased his arms free and she flopped to her rush mattress. “You were dreaming.” He ran his fingers through his tangled hair. “Hell, you were coming.”

“So, I was dreaming?” Ash pulled at the shift, straightening it over her knees, desperate to occupy herself with anything else other than him being in her room. She didn’t want to share her short time with Lucas. He was forbidden, she felt it deep within her, but he had nothing to do with Marek. “Am I not allowed to dream now?”

“Stop behaving like a child.” Marek paced the room. “You don’t just have these sorts of dreams, Ash. It was obviously an attack on what you are.” He paused and turned to face her, his features heavy with shadow. “Was it a man or a shade?”

A shade? What sort of question was that? “Is that possible?”

Marek rubbed at his jaw. “So a man—”

“I didn’t have a dream! You charged into this room—”

“And got the full lash of your release. I noticed.”

“You didn’t object.”

Marek gave a low laugh that skittered down her spine and her birthmark tingled. “I’m a custodian. Born this way, as was my mother. My power is within me, grows from my body. My strength feeds it. And you? You’re a banquet. And who would turn that down?” His expression sobered. “This isn’t a game. If something or someone breaks the power you have, then the treasure you protect is vulnerable.”

“And if I don’t care?”

“Your only value to me and to the temple is as a ward. With your power broken…” He let the words fade and his dark gaze pinned her. Marek obviously had no qualms about discarding her when she was of no further use to him. “The man who visited you will not protect you, feed and clothe you, give you a bed. A moment’s pleasure.” His smile chilled her. “And you end up living your life as a lupa outside the theaters, selling your body for a brass para.”

Anger and fear twisted her gut. “You’re a…” None of the curses she knew seemed strong enough to fling at him.

“A shit?” He sat down on the bunk beside her and she shifted away from him. “This isn’t a game. Anyone who can command the ancient magics obviously has great power of their own.”

She still wanted to swear at him, curse him out, but reluctantly sense prodded at her. He was right and she—and what they had transformed her into—was simply a small piece in a much larger scheme. “What’s in the box?”

“I don’t know.” He blew out a hot breath and muttered soft, strange words. Ash guessed that he had found his perfect curse words. “My role as custodian forbids it. My oath holds and binds me.” He pinched at the bridge of his nose. “All right, the first thing we have to deal with is the man invading your dreams.”

“And how do you do that?”

Marek stood and held out his hand to her. He waited for her to take it and urged her to her feet. “My room,” he said, leading her out onto the landing to the largest of the bedrooms that overlooked the garden. Sunlight cut across the wooden floor from open shutters and a wide bed half-filled the room. Marek pushed the door shut. “I’ve not done this for a long time.”

Ash sucked in a quiet breath, her imagination leaping to strange places, places that heated her skin and she curled her fingers into her palm. “Done what?”

“I have a talent.” He undid the buttons on his shirt and Ash’s heart squeezed. With the sunlight cutting across the room it—he—was too much like the man who had just slipped into her dream. “With enough strength, I can ease into your mind. Not a normal custodian skill.”

“You’re looking for him?”

“I have to know my enemy.” He dropped his shirt over the back of a wide wooden chair and sat on it to remove his boots.

Ash’s gaze narrowed on him . “And you’re taking off your clothes because…?”

He looked up and the dark grin he gave her jumped her pulse. “It has to be skin to skin.”

“Yet you haven’t done this for a while?” A brief laugh escaped her. “Surely, you wouldn’t deny yourself the pleasure?”

He stood, his feet bare, and sunlight gilded his torso. He looked so much like Lucas, holding a dark beauty that made her heart pound. He loosened his belt and his breeches dropped down over hips. “Take your clothes off.”

She took a step back and her calf hit the edge of the mattress. Ash bit her lip. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll only hold you.” His soft laughter followed the words. “And that’s not something I often say.” Marek’s breeches joined his shirt over the back of the chair and he looked to her expectantly. “You need to undress.”

Ash closed her eyes against seeing his naked body. With Lucas, it had been wanted, a part of the pleasure, a part of the anticipation, but Marek’s nakedness and his command just brought embarrassment. She made quick work of tugging the thin material over her head and tried to cover herself with her hands. Marek didn’t seem to notice.

“Lie on the bed.”

With her eyes still shut, Ash fumbled her way onto the wide bed, her face turned to the wall. She sucked in a breath as Marek pressed his body to her back, the alien heat of his skin rippling a quick shiver under her own. His thigh pushed between her legs, pressing against her damp sex, and his right hand took possession of her breast. His hard cock teased her backside and she fought not to rock back against him.

His warm breath brushed her ear. “So responsive,” he murmured and his thumb circled her nipple, the pleasure of it rushing down her body and her thighs tightened involuntarily around his strong thigh. “Every touch enflames you, doesn’t it?”

“Have you started?”

Marek laughed and shifted his hips. His cock slid between her cheeks and Ash jerked. “Simply getting comfortable.” He eased his left arm under her and his hand rested on her mound, his fingers drawing idle circles against her skin.

Ash fought down the growing need to cover his hand with her own and drive his fingers into her flesh. But she knew the ache within her would never be satisfied. “This isn’t holding,” she muttered.

“It’s impossible not to touch you.” Marek’s hot admission made her crush her eyes shut. “Something about you… The thought of taking you, fucking you, it’s constant. And I will. After.” He let out a long breath. “All right, keep your eyes closed. You’ll begin to drift off to sleep.”

How did he think she was going to sleep when he’d just admitted what his plan was after? Her heart pounded, the fear, need and frustration hot in her blood. She loathed and wanted him in equal measure…and he expected her to.

Her thoughts grew heavy, languid, and she tried to remember what had her gut in a knot, but she couldn’t. Everything was falling away until sleep took her.

“Couldn’t stay away, Ash?”

Lucas turned her over onto her back and straddled her. He teased her bottom lip and a grin pulled at his own mouth. His dark eyes, heavy with sin, held her. “Should I carry on where I left off? Eat that sweet pussy of yours?”

Ash gasped at the play of his fingers as he parted her thighs, teasing over the sensitive skin before one teasing finger dipped into her wet flesh. Its sudden curl bucked her against him and his cock, warm, smooth and hard, pressed against her belly. A second finger followed the first but something was missing. Someone was missing.

Lucas froze. “What?”

“Who’s your master?”

Marek’s hard voice shot over her and mortification quickly followed. She was caught in a dream, but his seeing her naked, her legs open and another man’s fingers playing with her felt…wrong. And strangely incomplete.

Lucas snapped his gaze to her and his fingers sank deeper, forcing a low moan from her, her hips finding a rhythm with his touch. His mouth teased her lips. “You care what he thinks?”

“She knows what a danger you are.”

Marek gripped Lucas’ hand, pulling him free of her flesh, and shoved him back. Lucas hit the plaster wall and anger burned in his dark eyes. Ash tugged the twisted blanket over her nakedness and let out a heavy breath. She could so easily have slid back into letting Lucas kiss her, take her. She let her gaze roam over the sunlit perfection of his naked body and the need for him still warmed her.

“She wants me, can’t you see her thoughts? They’re burning around her.”

Marek stared at her and Ash felt embarrassed heat scorch under her cheeks. He had come into her dream fully clothed in his custodian uniform and she didn’t want to regret that he’d made that choice. She closed her thoughts, too aware that they were obvious to both men. She gave him a shrug. “He’s beautiful.”

Marek lifted an eyebrow. “And that’s enough for you?”

“For now.” She shrugged again, determined not to be intimidated by him. “I’m new to this.”

His attention swung back to Lucas. “But he’s not. So tell me, shade, who’s your master?”

Lucas’ face tightened and a slash of red cut across his sculpted cheekbones. “Shade? You think I’m some sprite trapped and bound by a stinking alchemist?”

Marek laughed. “Aren’t you?”

“You know I’m not.”

He stood before the custodian. They were almost the same height and mirrored each other in their dark perfection. Ash’s spine tingled, the long twist of her birthmark growing warm. They had a—she fumbled for the feeling, the instinct that gripped her—a rightness to them that she couldn’t explain.

Lucas tilted his head. “Even Ash can feel it. And she feels something else.” He stroked his jaw and Marek flinched at the other man’s touch against his skin. “There’s darkness in your blood, Marek Savada.” He grinned, something sharp, wicked. “Ah, that’s how you’re here.”

In a swift move, Marek gripped Lucas’ throat, barreling him back until he hit the plaster. He trapped him against the wall with his body and Ash stared at Lucas’ bare feet dangling above the wooden floorboards. Her heart jumped. “Marek!”

He ignored her. “This is a very special place,” he muttered. His fingers flexed around Lucas’ neck and the man flushed, sweat already beading his brow. His hands grabbed at Marek’s leather-clad arm, but Ash knew his strength. Marek was made of iron. “I’ve known people to die in dreams like this.”

Ash jumped from the bed, uncertainty gripping her. She knew Lucas wanted to break the magic that she held, and Marek’s warning of her future still burned strongly at the front of her mind. But she couldn’t watch while he throttled a man. She grabbed at Marek’s arm, her fingers biting into the leather, but she couldn’t shift him. “Damn it, Marek!”

“You’re from the north. Dardanas.” Lucas choked out the words. “A dark soul.”

“No.”

“I can see it.” He swallowed and fought for breath. “She can see it.”

Marek tightened his grip. “Tell me who your master is.”

Ash slapped his arm, her palm stinging from the impact. “If he’s dead he can’t tell you, you idiot!”

He cast her a hard look and Ash winced, but his fingers loosened and he stepped back from the tight press of his body into Lucas’. “Speak, or I will kill you.”

Lucas rubbed at his reddened throat, the heavy print of Marek’s fingers searing red against his skin. “I don’t have a master.”

Marek took a step forward, his arm raised. “Wait!” Lucas pressed his hand to his face. “Decades ago,” he stared around the sunlit room, his gaze distant. “Probably centuries now, I was sentenced for my crime. The punishment was the stripping away of my flesh and having my soul bound.”

“Crime?” Ash stepped back from both men and dragged the blanket from the bed. She wrapped it around her body, feeling somehow safer. Lucas was a criminal? “What did you do?”

“Ash…” Marek’s use of her name was an irritated warning.

“I fucked above my rank and was caught with the first daughter of the queen.” His gaze flicked to Ash and her chest tightened. “Caught because I couldn’t resist her.” He returned his attention to Marek. “I’m bound by inscribed magic, whoever can read it can bend me to their will.”

Marek narrowed his eyes. “You’re the statuette owned by that knight.”

“Now I’ve told you what I am. So what are you?”

“That’s not how it works.” Marek ran his fingers through his hair, his focus lost to thought. “Who bound you?”

Lucas ignored his question. “You don’t even know what you are, do you?” He laughed, something short and hard. “You’re controlling a dream and you don’t know that your…what…?” He paused and his eyes gleamed. “Yes, your father was a dark soul. A rare birth.” He grinned. “And it’s why you want to fuck her so badly it’s a hard pain in your gut.”

“What’s a dark soul?” Ash looked from Lucas to Marek, whose face had tightened and she could almost feel the anger burning off him. Her world had tipped over and become insane in a few short hours. Her life had once been simple, but now dark men and even darker magic surrounded her. “My ignorance helps no one.”

“The dark souls are the mythical race that comes from the far north. A breed of humans with demon blood.” Marek glared at Lucas. “They don’t exist.”

He met the custodian’s glare with a sharp smile. “Then this won’t affect you.”

Chapter Four

Lucas snapped his fingers and the small, sunlit bedroom vanished to be replaced with a dark cavern. Flickering torches fixed on brackets to the wall threw warm light over the stone floor. Something moved in the shadows and Ash’s chest bloomed with heat. Marek’s hand tugged at her waist and she gasped as he pulled her back against his chest, his arm securing her to him.

But he didn’t break them out of whatever Lucas had thrown them into. His breathing came fast and his fingers dug into her hip. Heat flooded her face as his hips rolled against her backside. His other hand eased beneath the blanket that wrapped around her and cupped her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple to hardness. Whatever lurked in the shadows, whatever he could see, excited him.

Lucas stood at his side. He teased a finger along Ash’s shoulder and the touch of both of them against her skin spiraled a riot of need through her flesh. “Can you see it now?”

Her heart beat hard, wild fire surged through her veins and somehow the shadows thinned, lifted. Her. Her, naked and wrapped around Marek, his mouth on her throat, his cock buried deep inside her, stroking into her, but more than that. Ash’s heart lodged in her throat, her arousal almost a physical pain. Lucas stood at her back, his fingers hard on her hips and his cock easing into her in an alternate rhythm.

“A primary and secondary,” Lucas murmured, his hand slipping over her collarbone to push aside the blanket and expose her other breast. He dipped his mouth and the shock of his hot tongue forced a cry from her. “The way of the dark souls, the way we bond and breed.”

She couldn’t look away from the…display…as the light moved shadows over her, their skin. Soft groans mingled and she wanted to be that woman caught between them. And even as she stood so far away, Lucas’ mouth on her skin, the roll of Marek’s hips against her backside licked fire over every inch of her body. Damn the priests for making her this way.

“Why damn them?” Lucas’ voice flowed like honey over her skin. “Look at you. Look at us fucking you.” He glanced behind to the three engrossed people and a soft groan escaped him. “Hell, I can almost feel you, tight and hot.” His hand chased down her body and he teased his fingers though the thin blanket, unerringly finding her sweet spot. “Would you want that? Both of us? Now? Here?”

Marek groaned and his hand tightened around her breast. “This isn’t right.”

“But it is.” Lucas stroked her flesh. She gasped and clutched at Marek’s arms, trying to deny the increasing push of Lucas’ fingers. “Somehow, Ash is right for us both. Follow your instincts.” He looked up and his wicked smile forced her to meet the thrust of his fingers. The ache in her belly surged and still she watched her other self, surrounded by the men she wanted, needed, watched that woman take Marek’s mouth and lose herself in a wild kiss. “How can you deny such satisfaction?”

The other-Ash’s loud, echoing cry broke across the cavern and she could only watch as both men took her together, pushing hard and fast into her willing flesh. Her own need spiraled, a fierce, hot ache only intensified by Marek’s tight hold, his breath ragged over her ear and Lucas’ fingers teasing, pushing ever closer to where she ached for him. She met his gaze, the wild hunger there mirroring her own, and she covered his hand, urging him deeper, harder—

“No!”

Marek wrenched her free from Lucas and they were stumbling back, falling…until she jerked awake on his bed, with the sunlight from the window hot on her face. His body still shrouded her, his cock hard between her legs, his fingers tight against her breast and curled into her wet flesh.

“I should have you.” He growled the words against her ear and his hips thrust forward, his cock pushing up against his fingers. Ash groaned, hating and adoring the life she had fallen into. “Should fuck you. I want to.” He used his fingers to push his cock between her folds, its blunt head thrusting against her sweet spot and thickening the tension low and fierce in her belly. “I can still see you and him…and me.”

“Marek…” His name was little more than a groan and she gripped his arm, meeting his thrusts, wanting to ride him, even as she wanted to stop, because the promise of something more, of something that she could almost feel at the very edge of her flesh, would never come. “Please.”

He stopped and for too many heartbeats his body tensed around hers. Soft curses in that strange language burned against her ear. Ash closed her eyes, feeling his anger, not directed at her but at himself. His hands eased their hard grip on her flesh. “You’re right,” he murmured, and pulled himself away. The mattress shifted and he stood. “I have to break his magic.”

Ash willed herself to turn over and she watched him pull on his breeches. Her heart tightened and ached in her chest. “You’re going to kill him?”

He shrugged on his shirt. “If that’s what it takes.”

“He has to do what others command—”

“You’re defending him?” Marek stamped into his boots and laughed. “A shade that would have you out on the streets.”

“But he’s not that, is he?” Ash found her shift in a puddle on the floor and pulled it over her head. She slipped her feet into her sandals. “He said you were both something called a dark soul.”

Marek’s hard gaze speared her. “I am not a dark soul.”

She tilted her head. “Then what you saw should’ve had no affect on you…”

He laughed. “I saw myself fucking you—”

“And him? You saw Lucas too.”

Marek’s mouth thinned. “I like the thought of sharing a woman.” He buttoned his shirt, the movement of his fingers jerked, angry. “That does not make me a dark soul.”

“Why is it a stigma?”

Marek stopped at the door, his hand on the latch. He didn’t turn away from the dark wood as he murmured, “Dark souls are insane, they have no control, are ruthless and without honor.”

Ash let out a soft laugh. And this didn’t describe him? “Then they must be well hidden in Bukhara.”

“They don’t exist.” He opened the door and strode out onto the landing.

Ash scrambled after him. “And you know that how?”

He padded down the stairs, the wood creaking under his weight. “I’m a custodian. We must deal with every kind of magic to protect our artifacts.” He turned into the front of the house, passing his office, and pushed open the door to the cellar room. “I’ve never encountered a dark soul.”

“Because the magic is too familiar for you to recognize?”

Marek let out a hot breath. “All the wards they had and they tied you to this treasure.” He unhooked a small lamp from the wall and sparked fire to the wick. Soft light stretched down into the darkness. “Come on.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“They focused the magic on you. You’re an integral part of breaking it.” He took her hand and she had no option but to follow him down into the darkness. The heavy, warmed scent of the earth enclosed her and she fought her panicked pulse. “This is only an initial test. It may take time to spell the code inscribed on the statue.”

“So Lucas will still be in my dreams.”

“No.” Marek planted the lamp on the table. “You’re sleeping with me until he’s dealt with.”

“Sleeping…?”

“It’s necessary.”

He opened the drawer and lifted out the statuette. The thought of having to sleep with the biting temptation of Marek’s body wrapped around her faded. In the soft glow of the light, the figure’s pale gold gleamed and Ash sought out his face, trying to see if his beauty reflected in the cold metal. He was there. So lifelike it caught her breath and even knowing what it was, a trap for her, the object tugged at her, as it had before. Was that the magic bound to her?

“I should have seen that,” Marek murmured, fixing his attention on Ash. He lifted the statuette and waved it first to the right and then to the left. “You can’t look away from it, can you?”

Ash pulled in a tight breath. “It’s beautiful.” She curled her fingers into tight fists, the itch for her to stroke the incredibly cast gold strong in her fingertips. “I want to touch it.”

“And you did when my back was turned.”

She flushed. “I didn’t know it was wrong.”

Marek snorted. “In the future, please remember that everything I bring into this house is charged with magic. Magic of every type from every corner of the empire. That’s what a custodian is. A protector, protecting the city and the emperor from hostile magic.” He set the cast image of Lucas on the table beside the lamp and it gleamed, its brightness almost pulling her towards it. Curious curves and dots covered its base. “I’m trained to contain it.”

She crushed her eyes against the lure of the statuette and focused on Marek’s words. “As you do with me?”

His boots thudded against the tiled floor, away from her, and then wood creaked. It forced her to look at him. He stood before an open cupboard, light cutting over the leather-bound spines of books lining shelves. Pulling one free, he brought it to the table and opened it beside the lamp. Light splashed over yellowed vellum. He ran a long finger over unintelligible symbols, and sparks danced over the page from his fingertip.

“When the words and the gold resonate, I have the language inscribed at the base of the statue.”

“And his spell is broken?”

“ No, then I have the written language. The translation will take longer.”

“How much longer?”

Marek looked up and something gleamed in his eyes, something that looked like lust and maybe a hint of unease. “You may be in my bed awhile, Ash.”

* * * * *

Ash woke at first light and let out a slow breath.

Marek snored softly against her neck, his muscled arms holding her close, his strong thigh pushed between hers. She hated that she had grown used to him, used to his warm strength wrapping around her in the darkness. It had only been three nights, but the years alone in her single bunk were a faded memory. Sleep now meant naked, male flesh, another heart beating just out of time with her own and empty, dreamless sleep.

She stroked the hard muscle of his forearm, teasing over the dark hair there. He was a complete contrast to the men she had grown up with, all of them pale, soft-bodied, with too-fine hair. His difference tugged at her as hard as Lucas’ statue. And Marek kept that man at bay, but he’d also done little more than slip into the bed behind her, pull her against his chest and wrap a chill magic around them both. The wild caresses had faded to this simple hold, and by the goddess, that was more dangerous.

He stirred and his body flexed around hers. He planted a soft kiss on her shoulder and his hips pushed against hers, his erection caught against her backside and then sliding tantalizingly between her cheeks. Ash closed her eyes, silently cursing him. He always did this just before he woke. Played with her, a soft teasing play that rushed need though her flesh.

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 followed 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 pressed 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.”

“I see.”

Marek lunged forward with a bestial roar and Lucas barreled her back though the door. He slammed it shut. Darkness shrouded them. Through the thick wood, the dull clang of metal against metal rang hollow in the air.

“Six against one.” Fear and anger cut through her blood, the need to help Marek mixing with the knowledge that there was nothing she could do for him. The imprint of him charging at the men, white fire surging over his fists, had her blood beating fast. She caught her fingers in her hair. “Damn it.”

Lucas gripped her hand, slid an arm around her waist and guided her down into the darkness of the cellar. Heavy blackness pressed around her and her heart hammered. The scent of Lucas filled her lungs. Her foot slithered off the last step and he pressed her against the cool, earthen wall.

“He said…” Her whisper sounded too loud in the sudden quiet and she stopped, unsure. Damn it, what was going on upstairs? Was she too far away to hear now? “You’re not to touch me.”

“You’re ours.” His hands trailed over her shoulders and he eased behind her, pulling her back to the lean hardness of his body. “I will protect you as my primary commands me.” Lucas pressed his lips to her ear and she shivered. His hand rested low on her belly, the other just below her breast. “He’ll come to understand that.”

“That’ll make two of you.”

Lucas grinned against her skin and even with the wild mix of emotions, her belly did a little excited flip-flop. “You will when we have you naked…” His hands splayed at her hips, holding him hard to her, and he groaned, the soft, satisfied sound running goose bumps over her body. “There’s no one so beautiful as a woman bound to two dark souls.”

Her dream cut through her imagination, of her caught between him and Marek, and it imprinted on the darkness, spiking her pulse. A heavy thud broke through her vision and her heart turned over. “Marek?” The hoarse whisper escaped her.

“No,” Lucas murmured, his voice sounding distracted. “He’s…” His breathing hardened and he held her firm to him. “You can’t help him. He’s our primary.”

Ash struggled against him. “That makes no sense—”

The doors banged shut at the cellar entrance and boots thudded down hard against the stone. An arc of light shot into a small oil lamp on the table and Marek stood bleeding and disheveled at the bottom of the steps. Anger lit his dark eyes. “If this is how they want to play it.” The cold, half-growled words chilled her skin. He strode towards the drawers and pulled out the plain box with which the temple had entrusted him. Stinking white light burned around his fist and he pointed at the earthen wall. Light stretched and the heat of it rushed over Ash, but it wasn’t aimed at her. It pulled at the earth, and a low groan and the creak of wood followed. A door opened.

Marek grabbed the lamp. “In there. Now.”

Lucas hustled her into an arching tunnel, the golden glow carving out the curve of it. A sharp blue-white light and the harsh metallic stink of his magic filled the air and he sealed the entrance. Marek fell back against the smooth wall and closed his eyes. “Six custodians,” he muttered. “My own people sent to kill me. Jasha warned me. Warned that the Order was moving against me. But I didn’t think he meant literally.” He swore, long and foul. “All for this.” He held up the plain box. His gaze fixed on Ash and his rage hit her, sent a feared chill down to her toes. “What are you protecting, Ashsara?”

She shivered and Lucas’ hand tightened around her waist. “You know I don’t know.”

A grim smile pulled at Marek’s mouth. “Then it’s about time we found out.”

Chapter Five

The tunnel, hot and narrow, curved around to the left. Marek led the way, his lamp casting warm light over the earth walls. Ash ran her fingers over her braided hair and tried to think what his statement actually meant. Still, her thoughts swept around it. “Found out how, Marek?” She almost groaned. The question had burst from her, unwanted…and needed.

“I’m rescinding my oath to guard the temple treasure. Did they think it was hard for me? Only my honor held it.” He snorted and glanced at her. Desire burned in the darkness of his eyes. “I’m going to make you scream, Ash.”

She stumbled, shock making her clumsy, and Lucas’ hand caught her waist.

“We…” Lucas murmured.

Ash didn’t miss the heated flare in Marek’s gaze as he stared at the other man. He paused and then a dark smile lifted his mouth. Behind her, Lucas sucked in a quick breath. “We,” Marek agreed.

“Excuse me.” Anger burned through her. Damn it, she wanted him, wanted them, but as Lucas had said, they were all equals. “I’m not just flesh to be…to be used!”

Marek strode ahead. “I don’t take this action lightly.”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be hell for you.” He ignored her, his pace eating up the length of the tunnel. She could only follow, Lucas’ fingers at the base of her spine, urging her after him. “Where are we going?”

“I have a house near the docks.”

“And you cut a tunnel to it?”

Marek’s laughter hung in the air. “I’m older than I look. And I have magic.”

Time stretched and Ash lost all sense of it in the shadowed confines of the twisting tunnel. The only sounds were the dull thumps of their boots over the packed earth, steady breathing and the rapid run of her heart. Marek’s broad back filled her vision and behind her, Lucas kept his hand at the base of her spine, a constant pressure that did little to ease her nerves. She felt hemmed in, trapped in the tunnel and trapped between the two men.

“Here.” Marek stopped and pressed a hand fire-thick with magic against a patch of earthen wall. The low tearing and the groan of wood filled the silence. He stepped back. A heavy door swung back into the tunnel, revealing a narrow series of steps leading upwards.

Without a word, Marek took them, leaving her in darkness. Lucas’ hand teased lower, stroking her backside, and Ash cursed the heat burning in her face. She should have more control, not have need flare though her body at the slightest touch.

His lips brushed her neck. “It will be beautiful, Ash. I promise.”

She swallowed and willed herself to move away from him when all that she wanted to do was sink back against his hard body. The dim light from Marek’s lamp illuminated the top of the stairs and she quickly trotted up to find a small, empty cellar room that smelled of damp earth.

Marek stood waiting and her nerves ate through her. His attention slid over her, brief, sharp, before he looked behind her. Lucas stepped to the side and Marek used his magic to seal the entrance. The fire flickered from around his hand. He wiped at his jaw. “This way.”

He led them through another door and up a twisting stairwell of cut stone. It opened up to a wide room, shuttered on two sides against the morning sun. Sunlight slanted through the gaps to stripe the wooden floor and the two closed doors on the far wall. The room had a few homely touches in a patched rug, chairs set around a table and a large bed. Dust drifted in the sunlight. The salt taste in the air said the room was close to the mouth of the river where fresh water met salt.

“It’s been awhile,” he muttered, dumping the lamp beside the box on the table and snuffing its light. The first shutter creaked as he opened it and more air flowed through the room. He moved away and Ash stared out at the busy, bustling street a story below, the raucous shouts of the street peddlers mixing the lows of the cattle being driven up the narrow street. The brick tumble of buildings covered the short distance to the ship-thick river, the sunlight glinting silver on its fast current.

“All right.”

His voice snapped her attention from the window to watch him yank his tunic over his head. “Marek…”

“There’s nothing to fear, Ash.” He looked beyond her and she gasped as Lucas’ hands fell on her shoulders. “I will draw you into a dream.” Marek snorted and then his expression sobered as he watched Lucas’ hands. Ash’s heart thudded, feeling Lucas behind her, sliding his palms down over her waist to bunch the long tunic at her hips. Marek’s sudden silence made Ash all too aware that he watched her. “Your bind is broken, Lucas,” he murmured.

“I have no interest in that treasure.” His warm palm deliberately brushed her waist as he drew the tunic up and bared her to Marek. “I never have.”

Heat burned in her face as Lucas pulled the tunic over her head and she swallowed, her arms folding over her exposed breasts. Marek had seen her naked for days…but this was different.

Lucas’ fingers tickled her waist, digging beneath the band of her breeches. “Ah, the gift of being the secondary,” he murmured against her ear. “I will always undress you for his pleasure.”

“I…” But her words faded as he eased the tough material down her thighs, his fingers teasing over her skin. She tried to wriggle out of her breeches but Lucas’ curt “stand still” held her immobile.

With his hands never leaving her skin, he eased around her body and knelt before her, his mouth so close to her pussy his warm breath stirred her flesh. His fingers worked her breeches and slippers free and Ash had to find her balance by gripping his shoulders. All too soon she stood naked before him. His hands skirted her calves, her thighs, teased and then gripped her ass. He kissed her, his tongue tip flicking, tasting her pussy. Ash fisted her hands in his hair, the sudden spike of pleasure rioting through her body.

He pressed deeper, his hand easing her thighs apart, and Ash willed her eyes open because she knew Marek…Marek would be watching.

The fire in Marek’s dark gaze smashed into her and Lucas groaned, lifting her leg, supporting her as his tongue parted her folds and tasted her sweet spot. Marek tugged his tunic off and dropped it over a chair.

“Your gift from me. Sharing in what is mine,” Marek murmured, his gaze dropping to Lucas’ dark head.

“She tastes…” Lucas’ sigh brushed warm air over her wet flesh and Ash bit her lip. “It’s been so long since I had the right woman.” His hands stroked up over her ass, her waist. “But I must wait to eat you.” Lucas climbed to his feet and dropped a kiss on her mouth, the taste of herself heating her blood. Devilment sparked in his eyes. “But not too long.”

“Ash.”

Her gaze jumped to Marek who stood at the end of the bed, his hand outstretched. Unthinking, she crossed the room to him, sliding her fingers into his. Something…connected…in her, jerking her body, and Marek gripped her hand, his eyes narrowing.

“Lie on the bed, on your side.”

Nerves still thrummed through her, but they tasted more like the rush of excitement. She climbed onto the mattress and closed her eyes. Whatever it was, whatever happened in the dusty room was right. She couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to…

She sucked in a breath as a warm male body pressed to her back, but it wasn’t Marek—she knew his planes, the feel of him against her bare skin—it was Lucas’ hand teasing over her hip. He kissed the sensitive skin below her ear. “Ours,” he murmured and rolled his hips, his hard cock easing between the cheeks of her ass. Ash couldn’t help it, she pushed back against him and he groaned. “I love being a secondary.” His hand cupped her ass cheek and his thumb teased over her, over his cock. “I get to fuck your ass every time.”

Ash swallowed, her throat dry, her chest tight, and her eyes shot open as another hand shaped her hip. Marek, naked and so close, the heat of his body washed over her breasts, her belly. He eased closer and his cock pushed against her mound. She wriggled and he slid between her legs.

“Too eager, Ash?” he murmured, his hand skimming her waist, ribs, finding her breast and her too-sensitive nipple.

She couldn’t reply. Her heart hammered, every part of her alive and aching. He expected her to sleep now? To lose herself in a dream when Lucas placed butterfly kisses on her neck, her shoulder, his fingers massaging her ass, parting her and pushing her hips against Marek.

“You’ll sleep.” Marek’s mouth covered hers, his lips firm, his tongue stroking lightly against hers before he pushed deeper.

He tasted… She moaned and his hand tightened at her breast, his hips meeting the easy rhythm of hers. His cock teased her, pushing against where she ached for him. Sparks danced behind her eyelids, her skin hot and aching. She wanted them everywhere, on every inch of her body, kissing and fucking her.

She buried her fingers in Marek’s hair, holding his mouth hard to hers. She wanted… She wanted…

The air changed, grew cool and ice bit at her skin. Ash broke her mouth from his and shivered. Had he brought her into a dream? The room had darkened. Through a break in the heavy curtains surrounding the soft bed, she could see great arched windows that looked out onto a star-thick sky.

“Ash…” Marek’s breath brushed her lips. “Now we can make you scream.”

“Where is this place?”

“Home,” Lucas murmured.

“Home…?” But the question died as Lucas began to kiss and lick his way down her spine. His tongue ran hot over her cheek and she arched into Marek. He grinned and took her mouth, his large hand lifting her thigh over his hip, parting her for Lucas. He swallowed her gasp and her body shuddered as Lucas’ tongue teased her tight hole. His fingers held her, urging her to meet Marek’s slow thrusts.

“To see him slide over your pussy…”

The groaned words sent a shock of heat over her skin. Lucas could see her…but her thoughts vanished as Lucas’ hot tongue darted into her ass. Liquid flame surged up her spine, her birthmark burning in its wake. He pressed deeper…and then he pulled back.

Marek swallowed her cry, the thrust of his cock almost, almost where she ached for him, driving her hips hard against his. It would all be over too quickly. Far too quickly.

He broke his mouth from hers and his laughter brushed her damp skin as he buried his face against her neck. “If I’m going to break the laws that have bound me for a century, then believe me, this is not going to be quick.” He paused. “Agreed?”

She threaded her fingers through his dark hair and kissed his jaw, his ear. A raw whisper escaped her. “Agreed.”

Lucas pushed deeper into her ass, the delicious friction tightening her flesh. She closed her eyes, her breaths short, wanting to lose herself in the incredible feel of him. The promise that they would draw out the dream had her flesh tight and she clung to Marek, clung to the liquid heat flowing through her body.

“Look at me, Ash.” Marek’s voice burned over her and she had to obey. She forced her eyes open, meeting his hot, dark gaze. “Do you want his cock?”

Lucas groaned and the sound vibrated though her flesh. Marek’s fingers tightened on her thigh and the slow thrust of his hips against her pussy spun her thoughts. He was asking her questions? She blinked, trying to focus. “His cock?”

“He’s preparing that sweet little virgin ass of yours.” Marek’s palm slid over her thigh until his fingers dug into the flesh of her ass. She couldn’t breathe, her pussy aching, the blunt head of his cock pushing…pushing… “Soon his fingers will stretch you and then I’ll watch him fuck you, take you hard and fast. Do you want that?” He pulled back, his cock sliding over her slick flesh. “Do you want me to watch?”

Her body was on fire and the thought of Marek seeing Lucas’ cock push into her ass spun her thoughts. She didn’t understand how she could want these things, how she knew it was right, needed—

She cried out as Lucas pressed a finger to her hole. “You need it because you’re ours,” Lucas muttered, teasing hot kisses against her birthmark. “The chosen of two dark souls.”

“Lucas…” Marek’s growl rippled over her skin and she pushed back against Lucas’ second pressing finger.

“You can’t deny it.” Lucas thrust and stretched her, the delicious push-pull tightening the need low in her belly, the need for Marek to fuck her, to take her and seal whatever the hell it was that sparked between the three of them. “See? Ash knows.”

Marek pulled away and something in Ash screamed, fear swamping her. He couldn’t break what they had begun—

“Ash.” He melted kisses against her lips and the fear evaporated at the push of his warm skin against her breasts, her belly. He stroked his hand over her waist and hip, soothing her. The desire in his eyes caught her breath. “Stand up.”

Lucas’ mouth paused low on her spine and she felt his shiver. He eased back and Ash let Marek move away, her focus never leaving him. She rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up. Marek sat on the edge of the bed and she stood before him, the heavy drape of the curtain brushing her hot skin.

“How do you want her?” Lucas’ voice was tight and his hands gripped her hips as he stood behind her. His cock pushed between her damp cheeks.

Marek waved his hand and the heavy drapes drew back. Cool air washed over her and she shivered. Marek took her hands and eased her into bending down, her hands resting on his muscled thighs. “Spread her legs.”

Her heart pounding, her attention riveted on his face, on the desire scorching his dark eyes, she let Lucas tease her legs apart. Lucas’ hands stroked over her spine, tracing over the streaks of her birthmark before his thumbs slid between her cheeks. She sucked in a breath as she felt his knuckles and then the heavy cock pressed against her ass.

“Take her slowly.” A wicked smile curved Marek’s mouth and her wet pussy tightened. “At first.”

The blunt head of Lucas’ cock breached her tight hole and her spine arched. She gripped Marek’s thighs, her breath escaping in short gasps.

“Look at me.” Marek’s low voice speared her and she had to meet his gaze. “I can see him,” he murmured and his fingers brushed her jaw, his thumb teasing her bottom lip. “Do you want him to push harder, Ash? To fill your ass? Fuck you?”

His words burned through her and she swallowed, her mouth dry. She could only nod, her pussy tight, her heart thudding. Lucas pushed, his hands hard on her cheeks, parting her. His hoarse breaths mixed with her own.

“She’s so tight, Marek.”

He groaned and pulled back. Ash cried out at the surge of pleasure spiking through her flesh. Lucas pushed again, deeper, and withdrew. And Marek watched, his eyes dark, endless, and it had her wet, her belly tight and so eager for Lucas to fuck her that she dug her fingers into Marek’s thighs and pushed back against Lucas’ cock.

He growled and quickened his thrusts, his hands hard on her hips. He muttered words in an unknown language and it sparked something in Marek. His fingers threaded through her hair and he looked down. “I want your mouth, Ash.”

She blinked, following his gaze to his erect cock. Her belly tightened. “I haven’t…”

He eased her head down and it tilted her ass up to Lucas. The man groaned and rolled his hips, sinking deeper, the increasing friction firing through her flesh. He fucked her in a slow rhythm now, his soft moans mixing with her short breaths. She crushed her eyes shut against the throb of need filling her belly and each thrust brought her closer, closer…

“Open your mouth, Ash.”

The smooth head of Marek’s cock brushed her lips and she gasped, taking him into the heat of her mouth. Lucas’ hands flexed at her hips and he buried himself deep, deep in her ass. Her low moan flowed over Marek’s cock, the salt-sweet taste of him firing through her blood. His fingers tightened in her hair and he eased back, his hips meeting the dip of her mouth.

“So right…” Lucas’ voice burned through her and he pulled back, forcing a low groan from Marek at her reaction. Ash tasted him, her tongue teasing over his skin, wanting him to feel the wild fire that Lucas drove into her flesh. “I have to take her, Marek.”

He sank into her ass and Ash mewled, the thought of him fucking her making her dig her fingers into Marek’s thighs. Lucas teased the slick wetness of her pussy with his balls and Marek’s quickened thrusts forced her breath short, her thoughts spinning. She wanted him to say yes, to let Lucas take her, bury himself in her ass, fuck her.

“Take her. Then, Ash, your pussy is mine.”

His low growl tightened her belly and then Lucas stroked into her, each thrust chasing the next. Her heart pounded, Marek’s hand guiding her head as she licked and sucked him, taking him deeper as Lucas fucked her. The tension tightened between her thighs, her empty pussy aching as liquid fire chased up her spine. Lucas’ low moans and the tight grip of his hands on her hips, holding her as his body slapped hard against hers again and again, forcing her to swallow Marek, drove wildness into her mind, shook her body. She wanted, she needed them both, needed their mouths on her skin, buried inside of her, taking her, taking—

A long moan surged from her, a wild heat bursting over her body, and Marek shuddered and groaned. She swallowed and then he was lifting her mouth from his cock and kissing her, his tongue cool against hers, tasting her soft, panting breaths…and still Lucas fucked her.

Hard and fast, he stroked into her ass and the tendrils low in her belly tightened again, becoming quicker, more intense. Marek pulled back to look at her and she held his gaze, wanting him to see how his secondary spun joy though her flesh.

“Yes…” The soft word heated her damp skin. “So beautiful.”

“I want you, Marek.” Behind her, Lucas groaned and the pressure, the need in her flesh to scream and let go had her gasping. “Fuck me.”

Marek’s wicked smile fired through her body. “I will,” he said.

Ash cried out, another hot release surging through her flesh, her body shaking with the fierce heat rushing through her. With a final deep thrust, Lucas found his own release, chasing new heat in her ass. A long, shuddering sigh escaped him and he pulled himself free.

Marek eased her trembling legs over his and sat Ash on his lap, folding his arm around her. Her heart hammered and she rested her face against the arch of his throat, trying to gain some control. The priests had twisted that wild rush into a defense, binding it to protect a stupid box. She pressed a kiss to Marek’s damp skin and let out a soft sigh. She wanted to enjoy the moment and not dwell on how they had just made themselves enemies of the emperor.

Marek brushed her sweat-tangled hair from her face with gentle fingers and she leaned into his touch. Beside him, Lucas sank onto the bed, but Ash was barely aware of him. Her wet pussy slicked up against Marek’s cock and the need to wriggle, to let herself sink onto him, flared new heat low in her belly.

Lucas’ soft laughter snapped her gaze to him. He’d half-sprawled on the bed and he watched her, his dark eyes still hot with need. His knuckles brushed her thigh and goose bumps ran over her skin. “We’ve formed an insatiable creature.”

Ash smirked at him. “You’re complaining?”

He grinned and the unexpected…affection…wrapping around him caught her by surprise. She could almost see his emotion.

“Never.” His fingers skimmed her thigh and teased the crease so that she twitched, pushing her against Marek. “I intend to be a most committed secondary.” He glanced up. “And you’ve accepted what you are.”

Marek pulled in a slow breath and his palm pressed against her other thigh, idly stroking over her sensitized skin. “There’s something,” he murmured and his gaze held Ash. “Something about you,” he snorted and glanced at Lucas, “and you, that feels…”

“Right.” Ash finished his sentence for him. She stroked a finger down his chest, muscles twitching under her light touch. “And needed.”

He wet his lips and her need spiked again. “Maybe. Now…as a virgin ward, you’re breached.” His gaze darted around her face, seeing…something…but she couldn’t seem to read Marek as easily as she read Lucas. What he thought, felt, escaped her. “The box is open.”

Her heart twisted. Was this it, was it over? He had promised…

“What are you really, Ash?” His hand stroked down over her spine to tease the length of her birthmark. “Who did the eunuchs rescue from the Street of Cries?”

“The goddess guides the priest’s hand. It’s Her whim who he picks.”

“You have this marking you.” He traced his fingers unerringly around the smooth edges of the stain flowing over her spine, easing a warm and unexpected heat between her thighs. “The priests are versed in magic.” His head tilted. “I wonder if their choice was deliberate.”

Ash blinked. “That’s not their way.”

“I think the Priests of Fausta are playing their own game, Ash. As are too many others.” His eyes darkened. “But right now, I need to fulfill a promise.”

He eased her over his cock and Ash gasped at the slick slide of him against her wet flesh. He kissed her, something soft, gentle, a melting of his mouth against hers. He tasted… Marek swallowed her sigh and she threaded her fingers through his hair, wanting him…always.

She used her knees against the mattress to rock against him, working his cock over her pussy, the blunt head pushing, stretching the thin resistance. Marek guided her, his hands tight on her ass, urging her down, to let him sink deep and hard into her body. Then she would belong to him, to both of them, and they would be hers, a bond broken only by blood.

The thoughts spiraling through her mind drove heat through her flesh.

“Almost…” Marek’s groan burned against her mouth. “I should’ve done this days ago.”

Her laughter broke into a gasp as Lucas’ fingers teased over her spine, her ribs to cup her breasts. He knelt up behind her and his mouth ran hot along her shoulder, distracting her…

And she cried out as Marek thrust hard, his hands guiding her, easing her down slowly, so slowly onto his cock. The pain flared away under Lucas’ hot mouth, his hands and the molten desire in Marek’s dark eyes.

His rapid breaths blew hot across her cheek. “The minute I saw you.” His thumbs teased over her mound and her pussy clenched around his fullness. He groaned. “I should’ve yanked up your shift and fucked you right there.”

“Yes.” The image burned through her thoughts, of his hard hands on her untouched body, his cock buried in her and none of the waiting, the unnatural wanting that had gripped her for the days she’d lived with him. Ash pushed up and slid down again, Marek stretching her, the pleasure of him inside of her coiling fresh tension in her belly. She held his gaze, her heart beating hard. “Why didn’t you?”

“Is that what you want?”

The quiet question sank into her flesh and her mouth dried. He could do it. Spin a new dream, change her history, give her something incredible. The heat in her belly tightened and she rolled her hips, drawing a soft moan from both of them. “You’ve made me wanton.”

Marek laughed. “It was already in your blood.” He paused. “Ready?”

Before she could reply, the shadow and lamplight of the atrium swept around her and she waited as she had four mornings before. Nelek and the slaves stood near, the box held tight to the eunuch’s chest. She couldn’t help but stare at the treasure that had unknowingly been tied to her life for so long. It didn’t appear to be anything special. A well-made, plain box, the golden light warm over its slight sheen. She fought the urge to rip it from Nelek’s long pale fingers and open it. She was in Marek’s dream. The box would be empty.

Heavy thumps sounded against the outer door and Nelek waved one of the slaves towards it. Ash unhooked the strap of her satchel from her shoulder and gripped it in a tight fist. The ache low in her belly made her heart pound. Marek had come.

The slave struggled under the weight of moving the heavy bars and the other slave scurried forward to help him pull back the thick door. Light inched into the atrium, a long slice of gold, growing with every heavy breath from the slaves, with the squeal of metal, and the groan of wood, until the door thudded back against the stone wall and opened the temple to the city.

Marek was a tall and familiar dark shadow in the high archway. Ash bit her lip. He stood straight, his outline against the brightness lean and strong. He had made his dream too real because Nelek cast a suspicious glance at her and she controlled her breathing.

All thought wiped away as he strode towards them. Ash felt the pull of her first impression of him. A man in his prime, with an angled, male face browned by the sun. His eyes and thick hair were the same color, as dark as shadow, matching his wool cloak and solid leather boots. Marek’s beauty caught her again and she let the heavy pull of need low in her flesh flow through her.

“Marek.” Nelek hustled forward and gave him a short bow. Marek returned it with his usual fluid, physical grace and Ash’s heart beat hard. Damn, he was following the meeting exactly. Anticipation had her skin hot. “Everything is prepared.”

Marek’s dark gaze moved away from the first priest to slide over her, impersonal, assessing, and Ash held her breath. Her pussy clenched and she wanted to see something in his gaze, something that said he wanted this as much as she…but he played the Marek she’d first met far too well.

“Nothing was said about a ward.” His voice was as dark, as strong as the rest of him and undercut with a hint of anger. “This changes everything, Nelek.”

“The goddess has spoken and the emperor has placed his seal upon this action.”

Ash pushed Nelek’s light voice out of her thoughts, her gaze fixed on Marek. The muscle jumped in his lean jaw and the flare of bitter anger caught her breath.

“Show me.”

“Marek, you doubt—”

“Show me.”

The words were a low growl that lifted the hairs on the back of Ash’s neck and tingled down her spine. Her birthmark burned and the reaction forced her to bite at her cheek to keep back her gasp. She still had to play the game, because it had her hot and wet and soon, soon she would have him.

Nelek clicked his fingers at one of the slaves. The man gave the priest a quick nod and ran back through the smaller door into the priests’ compound. Within moments, he returned with a scroll, around which curved the blood red and gold of the emperor. Marek took it, broke the seal and scanned the contents. He frowned.

He smacked the scroll back into the slave’s open palm and moved past Nelek.

Ash’s heart hammered as he approached her. He stopped close enough for her to breathe in his scent, a mix of leather, unknown spices and male skin. He leaned in. She willed her spine straight, though her fingers crushed the woven strap of her satchel as his mouth hovered over hers. Not yet. She had to wait and her body throbbed at the delay.

“Marek!”

Ash ignored Nelek’s shrill voice. Marek’s dark eyes speared her, and she almost lost herself in their endlessness. Her lips parted and she tasted his breath, sweet, hot, and the temptation of his lips… Ash’s body flared with desire. The need to tease her tongue over his full bottom lip, knowing that he tasted as good as he did in her wildly spinning imagination, drove heat hard through her flesh, tightened her breasts. She ached to press herself against the lean hardness of his body, for him to—

“And this is the best ward you have?” His words spoken against her skin, his lips catching hers in a light caress, broke a gasp from her. “I could bend her over and fuck her here.”

Ash’s cheeks flamed and she staggered back from him, her spine hitting the cool stone of the atrium wall. Her satchel hit the floor with a dull thump. She mouthed the silent word, “Yes.”

Marek lifted an eyebrow and his eyes gleamed, his gaze roaming over her body. Something flickered in his gaze, a wry knowing. There was an edge to his voice as he muttered, “Yank up your robe.”

Two strides and he almost, almost pressed against her. His male scent, the strength of his body, pulsed through her, bringing with it a raw need. His lips teased the shell of her ear and liquid fire flickered low in her belly.

“Want me to breach you, ward?”

Ash groaned as he cupped her, his fingers pressing against the hot, aching flesh between her thighs. His hard smile tightened her belly. “All right, let’s give the eunuch a show.”

“Marek!”

He growled the words against her lips and the ache for him to kiss her, the surge of heat tearing up through her flesh made her heart pound. She didn’t want to talk, she wanted to taste him, thread her fingers through his thick hair and crush his mouth to hers. She resisted just that little bit longer. Anticipation was everything .

“Are you?” His finger pressed a slow circle into her flesh and she had to grab at his shoulders, her breath little more than pants. “Show me. Show us all.”

She found his mouth, her teeth grazing his bottom lip, teasing him, tasting him. A tremor ran through her body. He tasted incredible. Sweet and spiced and the strange prickle of his bristled chin sparked fire in her veins. The pulse low in her belly deepened, expanded, the heat surging—

“Oh no, you’re not coming yet. ” He yanked at her shift, exposing her, and grabbed her ass. He pushed her up the wall, holding her open. He pulled his cock free of his breeches and pressed it against wet flesh.

Ash stared at him, breathing hard. The fierce need in his molten gaze mixed with her own and she wrapped her legs behind his ass, the press of cool leather a shock to her hot skin. It drew him closer, pushed the blunt head of his cock hard against her pussy. She groaned at the first ease of him into her body. She was still so tight and his slow, slow stroke stretched her with delicious heat and danced light behind her eyes.

Ash arched her spine, her thighs tightening against his hips, and she drew a low moan from Marek. His mouth covered hers in a slow kiss, teasing, tasting, and her body ached for more. She deepened the kiss and her heels dug into his ass.

He grinned against her mouth. “Wanton.”

Ash bit at his bottom lip. “For you. Yes.” A gasp broke from her as he thrust, burying himself deep in her flesh. She clung to him, snatching broken kisses with each push of his hips, going with the need that rode her body. The tension in her belly tightened, the promised fire already flickering hot through her veins.

“You are…” Marek fixed his gaze on her, gripping her as thrusts quickened. The desire in his eyes, the fierce…want…had her breath short and her body shaking. “By all that’s unholy…”

He kissed her, his mouth hot, ruthless, and he swallowed her moans, pinning her to the cool stone wall, stroking into her, and still the pressure increased, a wild fire that promised to surge through her. Almost, she could almost taste the release she’d come to crave, a release bound to Lucas and to Marek.

She ripped her mouth from his, needing air, needing to pant out the riot in her body. Marek shifted and then every single one of his thrusts hit her sweet spot. Ash crushed her eyes shut against the raw burst of pleasure, her body shaking, all control gone, and then she came in a rush of fire and light and overwhelming heat. Marek shuddered against her, his low groan brushed the damp skin of her neck and heat filled her pussy.

She tightened her muscles around his cock and his breathless laughter squeezed her heart. She grinned. “Am I officially breached?”

“Yes.”

He let out a long breath and held her gaze. Ash ran her finger over his bottom lip, swollen from her kisses. “Nelek’s gone.”

A brief flare of fire lit his eyes and Ash shifted against him, unease and desire slipping through her flesh. “You’re mine to watch, no one else’s.” He closed his eyes and she could almost feel his need to control whatever it was that linked them. When he opened his eyes again, the fury of a jealous lover was gone. “Our time here is over. Now we see what’s in the box.”

Chapter Six

She woke and Marek had already rolled away from her. The sunlight in the room had hardly shifted against the wooden floorboards and she pressed a hand to her face, trying to believe that no time had passed. She let out a slow breath, watching Marek cross the floor, his naked beauty gilded by the slants of gold.

He had broken the magic the priests had woven in her flesh, but she didn’t feel any different. Ash bit her lip. That wasn’t exactly true. She felt sated, the ache that both men had driven through her mind and body was gone and a relaxed warmth replaced it. Was this it now? Her life with two strangers she hardly knew, men who spun fire through her flesh, brought her wild joy. The thought squeezed her heart and the ease left her body. But how long would it last?

Marek pulled on his breeches, not looking at her. She felt the shape of his mind, the hard turn of his thoughts. And something closed against her, forming slivers of granite and diamond in an obscuring mosaic. She didn’t understand Marek, and with his mind a wall against her, she doubted she ever would.

He had said that a broken ward was no use to him, that he would no longer provide for her and she would have to fend for herself. Was that still true? Questions speared her, and the worry came with it that she would grow too close to Marek, to Lucas, and they would leave her. She had no skills, the priests had prepared her only to pray for the fortune of the city. Wards of the temple lived out their lives and died in that role.

She closed her eyes and prayed that her need for Marek and Lucas, her agreement to break the magic that tied her to the temple treasure hadn’t been the stupidest mistake she’d made in her life.

“Ash.”

Lucas ran his hand along her arm and she shivered under his warm touch. Yes, her emotions might be in turmoil, but her body had no doubt what it wanted. She let him turn her onto her back and he grinned, his dark eyes holding that hint of captivating fire. She could so easily become attached to Lucas, his beauty and wicked humor drew her like no man ever had before. Not that she had any experience…

“You had fun without me,” he murmured, his hand curving down her waist, and Ash sucked in a quick breath at the ripple of pleasure heating her skin. And he could do that—drop joy into her flesh. He teased a light kiss over her collarbone, his body covering hers, his hard thigh pushing hers apart. “You know that’s not allowed.”

She tried not to think about the hard muscle pressing against her pussy. It didn’t work. Ash wanted him…again. “It’s not?” Her question was breathless.

“Lucas…” Marek buttoned his linen undershirt and a frown cut his mouth. “Now’s not the time.”

Lucas looked up and his wicked smile tightened her belly. “How can you say that?” His mouth found her breast and heat curled between her thighs, his fingers teasing over her navel to draw lazy circles over her mound. His finger dipped and Ash gasped. “How can you resist her? She wants me…us.”

“And shouldn’t you wonder why?”

Lucas’ hot mouth ran over her stomach, the curve of her belly, and the familiar ache seared through her. She caught her fingers in Lucas’ cool hair and fixed her gaze on Marek. He watched them, his fingers still on the last button of his shirt. Color slashed his cheeks and the heavy heat in his eyes drove fire through her body. She didn’t understand why she wanted this, why she had to share her pleasure with him. Was it something to do with what they were? Dark souls weaving magic through her eager flesh? Her first dream with Lucas…displaying…herself had seemed wrong. Now? His watching had become as needed as his touch and brought as much satisfaction.

Lucas parted her thighs, his fingers firm. His mouth found her pussy. Marek’s breath hitched with her own. He wanted to watch, it was there in his dark gaze, but a frown creased his forehead.

And his unease broke her spiraling pleasure. “Marek?”

Lucas paused, his breath hot against her skin. He lifted his head and pressed a kiss to her belly. “Not the time?” He met her gaze and the promise there squeezed her heart. “But soon.” He climbed off the bed and found their clothes. He gave her her tunic before he tugged on his breeches.

Ash shrugged into her long tunic and sat cross-legged. The ache to lose herself in Lucas had faded as she watched Marek pick up the temple box. He didn’t open it, but brought the box back to the bed. She shifted across the mattress as Marek sat next to her. He stroked the smooth wood, reluctant to lift the thick lid. Having sex with her in a dream was one thing, but she suspected he balked at the physical act of forcing his way into a treasure. When he did, he was officially breaking the laws he had lived by for so long. “Should I open it?” she asked.

Marek twitched a smile. “That would be too easy.” He pulled in a heavy breath and lifted the lid.

Hidden hinges creaked. But there was no gush of pale smoke or the sudden wash of hot metal through the air. Ash leaned forward, eager and fearful to know what lay in the box…and saw nothing. She stared. The interior was as plain as the exterior. “It’s empty.”

Marek cursed and wiped his fingers around the inside of the box. “Something was here. Not too long ago. I can feel its shadow.” He closed his eyes. “A crystal, with a heavy weight, but it was more than that…” His mouth thinned and a curse broke from him. “A crystal map. A marker.”

“A marker?” Lucas ran his hand through his hair. “Shit. I didn’t know…”

Ash hated that she knew nothing about the world into which she had fallen. “What have I been protecting?”

Marek closed the lid on the box with a soft thunk. “A marker is ancient magic.”

“Demon magic.” Lucas weathered Marek’s glare. “What? You can’t deny that ancient magic is demonic.”

“Lucas…” Marek stood and paced, the floorboards creaking under his heavy boots and the bands of golden sunlight cutting across his body. He stopped and fixed his attention on her. “Ash, what happened the night the thieves broke into the temple?”

Ash closed her eyes, focusing on her memory. The fast peal of the bells had dragged her from her bed, bleary and half dressed. She’d thrown open the door to her cell and slaves had raced past her. Without thought, she followed.

She’d skidded to a stop outside the great hall. Rani stood on the steps, shirtless, and Kia a limp weight in his arms. “Rani—the temple warden—raised the alarm. He’d found Kia in the sanctuary, cut and out cold. He bound her wounds as best he could.” A smile lifted her mouth. “Saved her…though when I left, she still had no memory of what happened.”

“And the thieves?”

Ash wiped her fingers over her lips. “I never saw them. Wards aren’t allowed in the sanctuary.”

Marek flicked a glance to Lucas before meeting her gaze again, and something about that brief communication tightened her gut. “But…Kia…was there?”

“Yes. She’s four, new to sleeping alone, we thought that she’d lost her way in the night…” Ash’s words trailed away and she stared at Lucas and then Marek. “But she didn’t?”

“One of the ways to break ancient magic is with blood.” Marek ran his fingers over the closed lid of the box. “Was there anything special about Kia?”

Ash blinked. Was he saying that someone had tried to sacrifice Kia to open the stupid box? “No, she was brought to the temple as a baby, like all of us were.”

“By the same man.”

A fist gripped her heart. He was not blaming Rani for this. “He didn’t do this.”

“They cut the child and snatched whatever was inside before Ash’s ward kicked in.” Lucas picked up the box, turning it over. He lifted the lid, scraped the edge with his fingernail and frowned. “Dried blood.” He winced. “She had to be some relation to you, Ash, and whoever did this knew it.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Like the man who brings the babies into the temple.”

“No.” Anger had her pointing at him and heating her blood. “No. Rani would never—”

“The senior eunuchs knew what was in here.” Lucas tapped the lid. “They bound you to it and knew how to slip past that magic.” He frowned. “Wanted to use me to try to break you so that…what?”

“I’d be implicated,” Marek said. “There’re elements within the custodians that have never been pleased with the skills I have.”

“Your dark soul blood,” Lucas said.

“I perform magic in a way they find…uncomfortable.” Marek ran his hand through his hair. “Influence others, dream magic. It’s a difference they’ve always feared. And the reason I’m not a prime, haven’t risen through the Order. They’ve sent so many against me to try to break my right to hold, to remove me from the Order. Maybe this is simply another way.”A wry smile curved his mouth. “A bonus.”

Ash shook her head and the fast run of her blood had her climbing off the bed and putting distance between herself and the two men. They were taking apart her world. Her spine hit the closed shutter and the riot of noise from the street below cut across her straining nerves. She pulled in a calming breath. “So you’re saying the priests and the custodians are behind this…this…theft? What is a marker anyway? And why go to so much trouble?”

She caught her fingers in the braids in her hair. “It makes no sense. I’ve been in the temple for twenty-five years. At any point,” she waved her hand at Lucas, “he could’ve been smuggled in if the priests were behind this. I would be breached and the box opened.”

“Others would hear, suspect. You would tell other wards and priests of a man seducing you in your sleep.” Marek laughed. “They’re churning out wards to guard their treasures and the temple. Even a low-level priest would know what it meant and would raise an alarm.

“No, this way the blame falls solely on me. I’ve opened the box. Broken my oath. Can be blamed for its loss.” He took the box from Lucas and put it on the table beside her. “And a marker? It’s a crystal map, pointing those who can read it to a greater treasure.”

“And it will be bad.” Lucas snorted. “These things are never good. Our progenitors hid certain magics for good reason.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “All right. I’m assuming that you have no food stocked.” A wry smile pulled at his mouth. “And since I haven’t had a proper meal in who knows how long…”

Marek lifted his tunic from the chair and unhooked a pouch from the lining. He tossed it to Lucas. “There’s a courtyard market up the street.”

Lucas opened the pouch and poked through, the coins clinking. He looked up and his eyes gleamed. “You trust me to come back?”

Marek snorted. “There’s only enough there for two days. You’ve obviously been bound for a long time.” He strode past him and down the stairwell. His voice echoed back. “Come on, I’ll let you out.”

Lucas caught her gaze and lifted an eyebrow. “I must obey my primary.” But he closed the distance between them, stroked her jaw and then pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. He took another. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “You have two dark souls guarding you.”

Ash pulled in a ragged breath and licked her lips, tasting him and the lingering scent of herself. She wanted to press her face to his chest and for a long moment feel the strength of his arms around her, find some security in his hold. But she didn’t. She didn’t know what they shared, what she could or should expect from either man. They were both strangers. “This whole thing is insane.”

Lucas smiled and his thumb teased her lower lip. “Yes, it is.” He stood back from her. “Now, is there anything special I should buy?”

A smile broke from her. “Marek will advise you better.”

“Ah yes, the primary knows all.” His dark eyes shone and he gave her a deep, short bow. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

He turned and trotted down the twisting stone stairwell, his boots echoing.

Ash let out a heavy breath and pressed her hands to her face. Had her whole life been a lie? The priests of Fausta had used her, used all of them to protect baubles. Her heart twisted. Some of the wards had left the temple, going to other smaller shrines, the priests said. Had they been farmed out to custodians? Marek had said the eunuchs had a system of creating virgin wards. Did others use them to protect their treasures? Tears burned and the betrayal of all she had known pushed deep.

She picked up the box and the grain of the wood pressed against her palms, smooth, cool, and the urge to smash it against the floor burned through her. But she stopped and frowned. It felt different. She ran her palms over every flat plane. There’d been a hint of a pattern before, now…nothing.

The heavy sound of boots echoed across the room and she looked up. Marek stopped in the narrow archway. “What?”

“Would I know what was in here?” She turned the box over, trying to refind that strange sensation, but it was gone. She wasn’t its ward anymore and all connection had broken down. “Because when I touched it before I felt a pattern, as if the wood pressed an image into my hand.” She put the box back on the table and wiped her hands against her thighs. “Maybe before…” She shrugged, still uncomfortable with describing—out loud—what they’d shared. “I would’ve known more.”

Marek frowned but said nothing.

More questions bubbled up to break the stretching silence. “What happens now, Marek? We hide out here?”

He stood at the half-open shutter, his attention fixed on the street. Sunlight edged his profile. “We wait until dusk.”

Did she have to drag every answer out of him? “And then what?”

“We follow the marker.”

Ash stared at him. “Have I missed something? We don’t have the marker.”

A dark smile lifted his lips and he stroked a finger over her temple. She twitched at the contact of his skin against hers. “When the priests first bound you to the marker and its box, they had to expose you to it. Let you see it.” He took her hand and his thumb traced over the lines on her palm. His touch spiraled warmth though her flesh and she tried to deny the sudden tension between her thighs but she couldn’t. “Perhaps even touch it.”

Thoughts slotted into place. “And I’d have memory of it… You can explore my memories.”

“Exactly,” he murmured. “We, Lucas and I, can then follow the trace of it through the city. We have to secure the marker before they read it. If you touched it,” he pulled in a breath, “maybe the reawakened memory will read it.” He stepped back from her. “We’ll wait for Lucas to come back. All three of us observing that moment in your history will improve our chances of working out what the crystal map was created to show.”

“And we’ll…” She waved at the rumpled bed, the image of them tangled and naked flushing her skin.

Marek laughed and stared out to the crowded street below them. “Maybe.”

Her nerves had her blood rushing and she had to try to allay her fear. “And after that? After you’ve found this thing, what happens to me?”

“Ashsara…”

An unexpected pain tightened in her chest. “I told you, I’m not that woman. She prayed to the goddess, spent her days in happy ignorance. I’m Ash, a former ward, nothing more.” She swallowed and lifted her chin, but Marek fixed his attention on the riot of the street. “You said I’d become a lupa.” She followed his gaze down and caught a woman, her dark hair pinned up, sunlight bathing her thin shift and making her naked body obvious. “Like her? Selling myself on the streets of Bukhara.”

He tensed and she looked at him. His mouth had thinned and anger burned in his eyes. “No.” He stepped back from the window and closed the shutter, sinking the room into shadow. “Whatever it is, there’s a connection between the three of us.”

“Which can be broken by blood.” She followed to the table that held the box. “Whatever that means.”

“The ritual of self-cut wounds,” he said. He ran his finger over the closed lid of the box and let out a slow sigh. “An agreement to the end of the bond. They realized obsession could sour.”

“And that’s what this is? Just lust and obsession?”

“Ash… What do you want me to say?” He shook his head. “I wasn’t prepared for this situation any more than you were. Do I want it? No. Do I want you? With every breath.” His admission made her heart squeeze. “I don’t understand it, but I have it under control. When this is over, however it falls, then I will deal with it.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “With Lucas and with you.”

“And dealing with it means ending it?”

“I don’t know.” He snorted. “It would be the sane thing to do, whether it would be right…” His soft, cynical laughter edged under her skin and she didn’t know how to feel. Marek didn’t deny their attraction; he simply didn’t want it. “I wonder did the priests and custodians realize the damage they would cause, did they have an idea of my heritage.” He let out a slow breath. “Because I didn’t.”

“How are you dark soul?” She waved at the open archway. “Lucas said they—you—breed with two men and one woman.”

“Yet more questions?”

“Do you expect anything else?”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “No.” He tapped the lid. “From what I know of dark-soul customs, magic, lore, whatever you want to call it, it’s possible. Especially if the other has innate magic.”

“And your mother…?”

“A prime within the Order.” His gaze grew distant. “Powerful. A legend.”

She could almost feel the push of old memories, though his barricaded thoughts prevented any breaking through. “Whatever happens, you still have your magic.”

“And with it I broke the first law of my profession. I opened a treasure I was meant to guard.”

“A treasure they’d already stolen.”

“Semantics,” he muttered.

“Fact.”

His eyes narrowed and something dangerous sparked there. It jumped her pulse. “Are you questioning me, Ash?”

Her reply bounced around in her mind. No—because he was her primary and her instincts screamed that she obey him, with the reward of her body pressed against his. And yes—because then he would do more than glare at her, her disobedience would force him to act, to chastise her and that would lead to delicious nakedness. She took a step closer to him, still undecided, and his scent, the intoxicating mix of leather, unknown spices and his skin, wove through her. “What would you like me to do, Marek?”

His large hand cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek. “A dangerous question.” His voice deep, quiet, slid through her flesh and her nipples hardened against the rough material of her tunic. “Because I will answer it.”

The need to breathe became difficult and her mouth dried. She wanted to close the short distance between them and press her body against his, to feel him, touch him and have it become real, not a dream. His mouth dipped to hers, so close she tasted his breath. Damn, it was so easy to slip into the need to touch and kiss, to strip from their clothes and find each other. Was that Marek’s fear? Nothing else mattered. Everything became unimportant, trivial.

Her heart hammered. “Will it always be like this? A…craving?”

“Yes.” His lips almost brushed hers, so near her mouth burned as if he had. “Always.”

The echo of heavy boots from the stairwell thudded with her pulse. Lucas was back and the thought of him catching her, having him see Marek touching her, kissing her, rushed heat under her skin. Something had shifted. It was different from Marek watching them, something sharper, more like a poke to his chest as if daring him to stop her.

Ash didn’t understand the emotions that came with these two men. They seemed to make no sense. Still she wasn’t fighting them and fisted her hand in Marek’s linen shirt and took his mouth. The sweet taste of him elicited a soft moan from her.

She melted kisses against his lips and Marek deepened them, his tongue stroking hot against hers.

“Busy?” Lucas’ voice cut through the kiss and Marek pulled back, even as desire darkened his eyes. The heavy thump of a linen bag just to her left forced her attention to Lucas. He gave her a sharp smile. “Food.”

“Are you ready to do this?”

Marek had slipped back into the cold professional, all need for her gone. Was this his way of controlling what existed between the three of them? Ash wished she had a quiet moment to sit down and sort out what she felt, how she could slot the idea of wanting both men into her life. She had no professional façade to help her hide.

“It has to be now.” Lucas picked out an apple from the bag and bit into it. He waved it at the window as he chewed. “Something has changed out there, and it’s not just my being bound to a statue for four hundred years.” His mouth thinned. “And yes, that was a surprise.”

“Changed how?” Marek asked.

Lucas shrugged. “In the air, how it tastes, the way it hits your skin. My guess? Whoever stole it has read the marker.”

Marek cursed. “We still need to know its essence, its structure, what the map led to.” His fingers tugged at his shirt buttons. “We should—”

“It’s not necessary to get naked.” Lucas dropped the core onto the table and wiped his hand over his mouth. “Though how many have you convinced that’s essential?” He lifted an eyebrow. “With the amount of energy we’ve created, touching hands is enough. Did custodian law never teach you that?”

Anger glittered in Marek’s eyes. “Breaking into someone’s dreams is not custodian magic.”

“No, it’s ancient.” A hard smile cut his mouth. “And you never suspected what you were? Or you simply denied it?”

“Should I leave you alone?” Ash pushed past the two men and sat on the rumpled bed. She pressed her spine against the wooden slats of the headboard and crossed her legs, staring at them. How they fitted together was still too raw, untested. She stopped herself from wiping a hand over her face. Sometimes she wanted to question the path the goddess had chosen. Anger tensed both Lucas and Marek and maybe they needed to resolve it with sex. “Is that a part of the dark soul pact too, you two must…?”

Lucas shook his head. “Not for me.”

Marek’s strained silence, his dark expression said it wasn’t a welcome suggestion for him either. He sat next to her and took her hand, his fingers warm and strong around hers. Lucas, his gaze shifting over her hand locked in Marek’s, sat on her other side and linked his fingers through hers.

Ash bit back a smile, the ridiculousness of sitting on a bed with these two men and holding hands rushing through her. “This is…odd.”

Marek didn’t seem to find it humorous. “Close your eyes, Ash. Drift into sleep. I’ll find the memory.” His fingers flexed around her hers. “Stay sharp and focused. Ready?”

Ash closed her eyes and tried not to think how much more strange it was to be wearing clothes—

“Ash, you’re supposed to be sleeping.” Lucas’ breath brushed her ear. “Be a good girl.”

She slid a look at him, she couldn’t help herself. Her skin burned and the ache to turn her head and find his mouth, had her heart beating hard. “And if I’m not?”

“Enough.” Marek growled the word. “Ash, close your eyes.”

She obeyed and darkness took her.

Chapter Seven

Sunlight slanted through the wide doors into the circular room, cutting through the shadows of the vast space. Ornate marble columns supported the great dome, the alcoves they created lost to thick blackness. The air tasted dusty, ancient, and the hint of incense tickled. She stared up into a doomed roof, her gaze following the intricate pattern of squares carved there, and rubbed her itching nose.

“Ash, stand still.”

Large hands squeezed her shoulders and the soft voice sounded like Rani, but he seemed too far away…until he loomed into her vision, blocking the view of the dome. Her heart turned over. He was more than twice her height. She blinked. Her memory, she was in her memory of seeing the marker.

“Close your mouth.” He stroked long fingers over her braided her. “You must be on your best behavior this morning, Ash. Today you meet the first priest.”

Nelek. No, it wasn’t him, he wouldn’t rise to be first priest for another twenty-one years. Ash gave a slow nod and stared down, looking at her small, four-year-old hands, obviously scrubbed clean for the occasion. Her mind scrambled back, trying to remember who had held the position decades before, and the name Cafell fell into her thoughts.

Ash bit her lip and scanned the shadows of the room, searching for Marek and Lucas. She didn’t know how it worked, how they would appear in a memory in which they’d played no part. There was no evidence of them…anywhere. She clasped her hands together, her fingers too small and thin, and tried to ease the fast thud of her heart in her young girl’s chest. She had no memory of this meeting, this echoing room. And the not knowing had sweat slicking her spine.

The shadows shifted and an old man with thick, white hair limped towards them, flanked by two younger priests. The one carrying the now familiar plain box was Paavo, who in her time had risen to the office of Temple Protector a few months before. She blinked. The other priest she recognized as Nelek. His hair was darker and his face smoothed of wrinkles, but the same hard darkness lurked in his gaze.

“Ashsara.” Cafell’s light voice, cracking with age, echoed. “Good morning.”

Rani’s comforting hand slipped from her shoulders and he stepped back, his sandals slapping against the marble floor. Ash performed a low bow, her body not her own and she felt gauche, awkward. She straightened and gave a smile, finding no reaction in the three men facing her. “Good morning, lord.” Her voice was a little girl’s squeak and she bit at her lip.

“Do you know why you’re here today, Ashsara?”

She shook her head, not trusting herself not to blurt out the truth. It was strange. There was no imperative to say or act in a certain way. It was almost as if she had command of the moment, that she really was in her past. But that was ridiculous.

“To mark your fourth year in the Temple of Fausta, every ward must join with us in celebrating that fact.” He spoke slowly, softly, his shoulders hunched down towards her. “Are you ready to commit your life, Ashsara?”

What sort of question was that for a four-year-old? But she had to continue to play out her history as she supposed it had happened. She would’ve wanted to please the priests. She remembered only happiness in her early years, sunshine and laughter, security. So she nodded.

“You have to say the words.” Nelek bit out his order, his jaw tight. He looked behind her to Rani. “Have you not drilled her?”

“Ash.” Rani bent and his whisper blew the loose strand of hair at her ear. “Remember?” He paused and when she couldn’t answer, he murmured, “I, Ashsara, pledge my life and my flesh to the keeping of the temple.”

Ash repeated his words, her voice stilted. She didn’t remember him ever saying these words to her. What had they done to her? Her chest grew tight. Had they done to her what they’d done to Kia? Wiped her memory clean of all that happened in this dark room? Her blood ran fast. Would they cut her too?

Nelek leaned in to whisper in Cafell’s ear. “Is she the right choice for this role, lord?” His dark gaze speared her and she bit at the inside of her cheek to stop her blurting out some obscenity. Was this why she’d always hated Nelek? Had some part of her remembered him here? “She can’t even remember the oath.”

Cafell’s wizened lips thinned further. “Ashsara is of the line. Only the line can ward this box and the treasure within. Desma has breathed her last and her blood stains the box. Time is short.” He narrowed his eyes on Nelek. “It doesn’t matter if she’s a stump, the child’s bloodline is everything.” He turned his attention back to her and his mouth lifted into a pleasant smile. “Step forward, Ashsara.”

Rani’s fingers pressed against her spine and urged her forward. Her shift brushed against the marble floor, the light slap of her sandals echoing. She stopped just before Cafell and her hands pressed together, tight and bloodless. He stretched up so tall, they all did, and the unknown bit at her nerves.

Cafell snapped his bony fingers and Paavo knelt down beside her. He placed the box on the floor at her feet and returned to Cafell’s side.

“This is your heritage. Your predecessor gave her last blood to open it.” The first priest paused. “And now it’s your turn.”

“Blood?” The word escaped her on a tiny squeak.

Nelek muttered under his breath. “Lord…”

“Be quiet, Nelek. She is of the line of Kairas. That is all we need.” The old first priest pulled in a wheezing breath and focused again on Ash. “Open the box, Ashsara.”

Her fingers itched and she stopped herself from flexing them. She didn’t think she’d…well…be herself. She thought she would have observed the memory, with Marek and Lucas close by. It was strange to be her child-self…and have no idea what the hell she was doing in her past.

She knelt and ran her thumbs along the edge of the lid, the slight separation pressing into her skin. She pushed. With a groan, the internal hinges turned and the thick lid lifted. Cold light cut from the open box, bathing her in rainbow colors. She squinted, trying to see what was inside. The light hit her in a pattern, she could feel the press of each color against her skin and it…opened…something deep within her.

She breathed hard, fighting the push of whatever it was up through her flesh, but it couldn’t be denied.

“Pick it up, Ashsara.”

Fear burned through her. And she hated the priests who had rescued her. They did this to every girl they brought into the temple? Filled her with terror and twisted her body to suit their needs. Ash shoved down her anger. She was here for a reason, to see, to touch the marker. They had to find the treasure it mapped before the ones who would kill them did. Now, Cafell wanted her to pick it up. She could do that.

Her small fingers cut through the swathe of light and dipped into the box. They brushed against cold glass and she pressed her palms against a curve. Depressions and bumps imprinted on her hands and…resonated…singing through her skin.

She sucked in a quick breath as it met the surge of whatever-it-was tearing up through her flesh. The collision seared light behind her eyes and nothing seemed to drive it from her brain.

The shadows of the circular room vanished and disjointed images shone, of stone and chiseled marble arching over her, the feel of hot sunshine on her skin and sand pushing through her sandals to grit under her toes. Something growled, a low, rippling snarl as if a beast circled her, drawing closer. Ash’s heart pounded. What was it? Was this the treasure the marker led to? A living beast?

“Here is another from the line of Kairas.” Cafell’s withered voice wove around the increasing snarls of the beast, carrying with it the echo of the hall she no longer stood in. “Recognize her blood or devour her.”

Ash shook and fear shot through her. She tried to yank her hands away from the bauble, but unseen hands held her there, forced her to stay on the gritty sand, the sun burning her skin. The snarl of the beast whipped so close she imagined hot, fetid breath against her cheek. But there was nothing she could see, only the strange, broken architecture, the whirl of sand and the savage sun. The hot air changed, shifted around her, and something pushed against her chest, hard. She dragged in shallow breaths. She couldn’t move, bat away the unseen creature crushing her…and then sharp points punctured her skin, her flesh, biting down into the bone.

Ash screamed, unable to fight against the wave of fire tearing though her flesh.

She crumpled and fell…hitting cool marble.

Dark shadows swept over her and the box lid shut with a low thunk. Ash breathed in and out, the pain in her chest, the fire under her skin a fading memory. What had they done to her?

Little more than a baby and they had almost fed her to a violent, invisible beast.

She closed her eyes and the marble eased the heat from her body. A hand touched her shoulder and she shrieked.

“Ash.” Rani’s soft voice eased through her and she wanted to hate him. He had stood by and let the first priest, let Paavo and Nelek torture her. Tears leaked at his betrayal. “It’s over now.” His long fingers squeezed her thin shoulder. “And once you leave the sanctuary, your memory of this will be gone.”

The slap of sandals echoed over the curve of the stone walls and Ash opened her eyes. The box was gone, picked up by Paavo. The three priests had gone with it. She let out a heavy sigh. “And now I’m bound.”

His hand stilled on her shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

Ash laughed and shrugged off his hand. She climbed to her feet and stared up at the man she had loved like a father. “You let them do that.”

Rani frowned and then he knelt down so that his eyes were almost level with hers. Pain and confusion gripped him. She could see it in the tightening of his eyes. Her heart twisted and she fought against the need to hug him and offer him comfort. “Every ward of the temple must come to the sanctuary.” He touched her cheek and her flinch made him drop his hand. “Every one of you has been given a talent by the goddess.”

“How did they know I was from the line of Kairas?”

“Ash…”

It was all false. She couldn’t be asking these questions of Rani, but she needed answers and Marek had not yet broken her out of her memory. “You’ve always said you brought me here from the Street of Cries…yet Cafell knows my family.”

Rani closed his eyes. “You will remember nothing,” he murmured. “When you leave the sanctuary, your memory of being bound will be gone.” He said the words almost to himself, not to her, and Ash waited. Rani had always answered her questions. Always.

“I did not collect you from the Street of Cries.”

Her heart tightened. Was this what she wanted to hear? And how did it make her situation more bearable if she’d been given to the temple rather than abandoned to her fate?

“Every generation, a slave from the palace gives us a child, a newborn girl.”

“Why?”

Rani let out a slow breath and his eyes dropped briefly before he met her gaze again. “I don’t know how you know what you do, how you’ve…changed. Maybe something about the treasure opened your thoughts.” He wiped his long fingers over his mouth. “Some treasures need guarding in a very rigid way. The box you opened is one such treasure. The palace, the emperors have always known this, and they supply us with girls to complete its protection. I don’t know more than that, Ash.”

“You collected me from the palace?” Her mind spun with patterns, with connections. Every generation… “Kia. Did you collect Kia from the palace?”

Rani blinked and confusion filled his face. She realized he could have no idea to whom she was referring. Something shifted in his expression, something dawning and his hand trembled against his lips. His skin flushed. “I…” His chest heaved. “Yes…yes, I did. Oh by the goddess, what have they done?”

Ash stared at him. It made no sense. He could not know who Kia was…unless… “Rani? Are you really here with me? Am I grown? Have I left the temple?”

His eyes widened and he found his feet, stumbling away from her. He shook his head. “No. I will not be fooled by magic into saying what should stay silent. Our first duty is silence. You’ve already taken Ash from the temple, wounded Kia—”

“Rani, it’s me!”

“No.” He stood straight. “You think that, down the years, I haven’t learned how to defend myself? That I don’t know my heritage?”

He closed his eyes and a wave of heat smashed into her, tossing her back like a rag doll. Pain blinded her, shot down her spine—

And with a scream, she lurched forward on the wide, soft bed.

“Ash…”

Lucas wrapped strong arms around her and pressed her to his chest, his warmth, his scent puncturing her panic. She gulped in air and clung to him. The riot of pain and terror eased with every breath. What the hell had happened? It hadn’t been a simple journey in a long forgotten memory. Somehow, she’d—they’d—dragged Rani in with her, a Rani who knew about and could use magic. She fisted Lucas’ shirt. “What happened? Where were you?”

He stroked a hand over her tangled hair and pressed a kiss into her hair. The gesture tightened her heart. She bit her lip, denying the burn of tears. “We didn’t know what you were…are.” His fierce hold eased and his fingers stroked her jaw, the light touch burning against her skin. He made her look at him. “You’re from the line of Kairas, Ash.” Something lurked in his dark gaze that she couldn’t name, but her gut said it was unease, perhaps even fear. “That line died out centuries ago.”

“Obviously not.” Marek’s hard voice came from somewhere behind her. “So now we include the palace in the conspiracy.” Curses flowed from him and he strode the floor, the boards creaking beneath his heavy strides. “And I thought the emperor too weak, too under the thumb of the Orders of Magic to conceive of something like this…”

Ash closed her eyes and let herself be held by Lucas. He stroked a warm hand down her spine and it was soothing rather than sensual. It let the myriad questions firing through her brain find some form of order. “You heard? You saw?”

“Distantly.” Lucas moved, eased the tangle of their bodies so that she sat on his lap and his arms still held her. “I could see and hear, almost touch the place the marker showed to you. But being Kairas…” He snorted. “Well, it explains a lot.”

“Kairas?”

“There’s a myth about one of the lines that feeds into the current imperial family.” Marek stopped his stride across the room. Light slanted over his face, dropping his tense expression into heavy shadow. “That they ruled here because the patriarch fathered a child with a Kairas, a demon from the east.” His mouth thinned and she felt his hard glare. Lucas’ hand tightened against her hip, his strength an armor against Marek’s anger. “The imperial dark souls.”

The words sank through her. She met Marek’s narrowed gaze. “I’m like you?”

Lucas was the one who answered. “A different breed,” he murmured. “Marek and I are Dardanas, descended from a demon who found a home in the far north.”

Anger flickered in Marek’s eyes. Yes, he was still having trouble accepting his demon heritage. And now that made two of them. “So the emperor is a dark soul?”

“No.” Marek shook his head. “I know him. There’s not a glimmer of magic in his blood.” He ran his hands through his hair. “They’re using dark soul blood to secure a dark soul object. The power it’s guarding must be terrifying.”

“A beast…” She shivered. “It was some form of animal.”

“Impossible—”

“I was there, Marek. I felt the thing nearly eat me.” Lucas’ palm stroking slow and even down her spine eased the anger from her blood. “It showed me a broken temple, an arena—I don’t know—something old and vast, built under a burning sun. Something swept around me, invisible, powerful…growling.” She held down a shiver. “It bit into my chest. If I hadn’t been the right candidate—the protector of the marker—it would’ve eaten me whole.”

“I need access to my books,” Marek muttered. “I need to study Bukhara’s early history.” His shoulders lifted. “It’s unlikely that they’ve broken into the cellar—”

“That’s insane!” Ash stared at him. He couldn’t risk going back to his townhouse. It would be crawling with custodians, no doubt trying to break into the very room he wanted to go back to. “You have no guarantee that they won’t have broken past your magic.”

He shrugged. “We need to get to whatever this is first.”

“Why?”

He pulled on his leather tunic, buckling the straps across his chest. “Because if they get to it first…” He yanked the last leather strap. “No one is meant to have an artifact from the time of ancient magic. No one. Anyone who thinks they can control that sort of power? They’re insane.” He ran fingers under his collar, flattening the smoothed leather against his neck. “And we would be the first ones to die.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Lucas, guard her with your life.”

Lucas’ body tensed around her and she could almost feel the push of emotion from him, but he nodded. “With my last breath, primary.”

Marek approached her. He stopped at the edge of the bed and his thumb stroked her cheek, curving around to tease her mouth. “You will know if anything happens to me.” His murmur fell heavy on her and her heart missed a beat. “If it does, leave here, because the magic guarding this place will fail.”

“Marek…” She touched his hand and he pulled in a quick breath.

He leaned forward. His mouth brushed hers, warm, wanted, and she ached to deepen the light, unsatisfactory kiss. Marek eased back and pressed his lips together, tasting her. “If I’m to protect you, then I need to go.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t stop him, she knew that. “Be careful.” The words sounded trite, obvious, but she had to say them. Both men had eased under her skin in too short a time and she couldn’t fight the connection. She didn’t want to. “Please?”

He twitched a smile and the heat in his gaze rushed through her blood. “ I promise.” Marek stepped back and the hard mask of a custodian fell down over his face. He turned, raided the bag on the table for bread and fruit before he disappeared through the archway without a backward glance.

Ash let out a slow breath. “He shouldn’t have gone alone.”

“You’re safer here. If we were with him, then he would have us to worry about too.”

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“What’s to understand?” Lucas teased the fabric of her tunic over her leg. “We are together. We will be for as long as we desire it.”

She stopped his hand, pressing it to her thigh. The touch of him against her skin spiraled fresh need through her flesh, but she had to deny it. He would not avoid her questions with sex…however much she wanted him to. “Rani was in the sanctuary with me. Not my memory, but there with me. He used magic against me.”

“Ash…” His fingers pushed under hers, easing her hand up her thigh and exposing more skin to his touch. “You live in Bukhara, home to so many people from over the world. Slaves captured in numerous wars, pilgrims, others drawn by the prospect of gold. The lure of the city hasn’t changed since I was bound in gold. So many people. Bloodlines mix. He could have magic in his veins, as you have a distant but powerful connection to Kairas.” His hand swept over the top of her thigh and teased the sensitive inner skin. His cock twitched against her leg. “And the best thing we can do now is get naked.”

Ash lifted her eyebrows. “Really?”

Lucas’ lips twitched, but there was a serious cast to his eyes. “What we are, a female with her primary and secondary, is—was—the basis of my home. The stronger the connection between the woman and her men, the more powerful their combined magic.”

His thumb teased the crease of her thigh and she sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re making this up.”

“Is that what you think?” He teased his index finger over her mound, drawing a light, distracting pattern against her skin. “The more I touch you, the more I need and want you.” His lips brushed her ear and the simple touch rushed through her flesh. “You’re Kairas.” Lucas’ ragged breath arched her spine and his finger dipped into her pussy. “Demon races never mix. It’s forbidden.”

“Why?” The question come out a gasp as his finger slipped through her folds to tease her sweet spot. Her hand covered his, cupping his hot palm to her skin. “I need to able to think, Lucas.”

“Why?” With a startled yelp, she found herself on her back and Lucas looming over her. “Bloods never mixed. Just matriarchal demons sniping at each other. But you…” He eased the tunic up over her hip, exposing her to him. “It explains why I can’t resist you. The lure of the forbidden.”

“And Marek?”

His eyes narrowed and that look was on his face again, mirroring his expression when he had witnessed Marek kissing her. A jealous heat that tightened the knot of need in her stomach. And again, the urge to push that emotion gripped her, instinct driving her and she didn’t deny it, all other questions falling away. Was it a part of this new bond? Very probably. It was something they had to do.

“Do you think he wants me?” She stroked her hand down his arm, playing with the hard curve of his muscles. “If only you’d stayed out longer, he and I could have explored more than the dream we shared.” Her smile turned wicked and Lucas’ jaw tightened. “Did I tell you? He pinned me to the wall, Lucas. Fucked me. It was so…”

“Ash, I know what you’re doing.”

His low growl curled through her body and she arched her spine, brushing her pelvis against his, teasing the length of his erection. “What am I doing?”

“You have to bond with the secondary. Make the dream a reality.” His body pressed down, pinning her to the bed. “Taunt me, drive me to strengthening our connection.”

“You make it sound so…dull, Lucas.” She let out a soft sigh. He was right, she needed that from him and she would get it. Instinct drove her every reaction. “Now, Marek would never be dull. He wouldn’t still be talking.”

Lucas kissed her, something as hard and ruthless as Marek himself. Ash groaned, shifting her lips, her legs wanting him inside her. It was right, needed. More than that. She wanted Lucas, liked him…and maybe that had something deeper to it, something wrapped up in the dark soul binding. The insane whisper though her thoughts that she could feel more for him had her spine arching into him and she rubbed herself against his erection.

His hand gripped her ass, urging her harder. “I would love your pussy, but it’s not mine to have.” He muttered the words against her lips. “Only Marek will have that pleasure.”

“Why?”

Heat coiled in her belly and she clung to him, her fingers breaching his tunic. She found the smooth heat of his skin, teased her touch over the hollow of his spine. His soft sigh brushed her ear and she shivered, her thighs tightening against his hips. “I never thought to have the joy of virgin dark soul. That’s the privilege of a prince.” He kissed her mouth, a light gentle teasing. “It’s our rule, Ash. I break the rules and our bond dissolves.”

To break away for him, from Marek, dissolving the start of something so new, so wanted? Her heart turned over, but she didn’t blurt out the words that jumped to her tongue. “I won’t allow that.” No, her instincts stopped her. They had shared something, started something in a place only dark souls could occupy. Now they had to strengthen their bond in the physical world. Whatever was in her blood wanted to push at Lucas, force him into a reaction she didn’t fully understand. “Scared?”

He stilled against her and the next few moments stretched into silence as he simply breathed. His dark eyes held her and the first flickers of fire burned there. “Scared?”

A light smile touched her mouth. “Well, Marek is our primary. We both agree…so that must mean that buried deep down, we both know that he’s better than you. Stronger.” The sparks of fire and rage had her heart pounding and the slick ache in her pussy deepened. This was right, needed…as strange as it was. “Obviously a better man, a better soul than you could ever hope to be.”

Lucas growled against her lips and soft laughter broke from her.

“Is that all you can do?” She pushed her hands against her chest and eased free of him. He let her and his dark gaze followed her as she climbed off the bed. She tugged at her tunic, straightening its length over her thighs, feeling his hot look against her skin. Craving it. Yes, now she’d left the quiet serenity of the temple far behind. And that was right too.

Ash tugged at one of the doors and slatted light cut across the floor of a small kitchen. The cold hearth sat under the closed shutters. Next to it a deep sink with a metal tap jutting out from the cracked plaster walls. Marek’s rooms had to be close to an aqueduct for that luxury.

The wooden frame of the bed creaked and Ash didn’t turn around. Her skin burned and she crossed the wooden floor to the sink. The tap clunked and spat rust and dirt when she turned it on, but soon a trickle of clear water followed. She cupped her hands under it and splashed it to her warmed face.

Her new life was insane.

“So that’s your opinion of me?” Lucas stood in the open doorway, his face in shadow. Anger and the delicious hints of jealousy lurked under his words. “A man not equal to Marek.”

Ash didn’t look up, wiping the moisture from her face and shaking her hands over the sink. Her belly tightened. It took all of her willpower not to shove him against the wall and ravage his mouth. “You are what you are, Lucas. Neither of us can change that. Marek is…” She let out a soft little sigh, all too aware of Lucas’ tension, the rise of fury in his flesh. “Well, you don’t compare.”

“I don’t…” He pressed her against the cold, thin stone of the sink. His fingertips raked over her ass, pulling up her tunic. Ash sucked in a quick breath and gripped the cold edge of the sink. She crushed her eyes shut against the hot flow of desire in her flesh and bit back a gasp as his searching fingers found bare skin. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “I know this is a part of what we must do.” The pleasure-pain of his teeth nipping her earlobe gripped her flesh. “But I don’t have to accept it, like it.”

“You’ll take it.” She forced scorn into her voice and fought not to push back against the slow rock of his hips against her ass. She could feel him, hard and ready and the ache to simply forget, for him to bend her over and fuck almost overwhelmed her. But she was stronger than that. She’d lain on cold marble and chanted from the third hour to the ninth, ignoring the chill and the bite of hunger. She could follow her duty. And her duty, her instinct at that moment was to drive Lucas’ jealousy, to force a reaction and for him to spill words into her open mind. “Four hundred years as gold, as a shade caught to do the bidding of whoever could read a few words. It’s little wonder that—”

“What?” He pulled her from the sink and pushed her against the cold, cracked plaster of the wall, his body pinning her there. His hard hands gripped her bare hips and he ground himself against her ass. “What am I?”

“Why do you even ask?”

Lucas yanked at her tunic, pulling it roughly over her head. He threw it to the floor. He tugged off his own shirt and the press of his hair-roughened chest to the smooth skin of her spine peaked her nipples. Her pussy tightened.

“So you don’t want me to fuck you?” He grated the rough words into her ear and teased the cleft of her ass. “Bury myself. Take you. Have you scream my name.”

Ash pushed out a laugh. “Without Marek to tell you what to do? I don’t think you could.”

Lucas growled, a low, wild sound that sank deep into her body. He laced a string of bites along her neck to her shoulder and Ash’s fingers curled into fists. She pressed them hard against the wall. Her breath came out in ragged gasps. Damn she wanted him inside her. But she needed his anger, the lack of control that would bind them together, a faster, more certain fix than slow loving.

His hands caressed her ass, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive inner curve of her thighs…and then he knelt.

Ash’s heart missed a beat at the press of his mouth to her rounded cheek. He parted her. “You can’t deny me.”

Chapter Eight

His low voice hinted at his power, the fierce dark soul that ran in his blood. She ached to push back, for his mouth to find her, but she didn’t. Her resistance was everything. “You’re not Marek.”

She cried out at the hot invasion of his tongue into her ass. A hand snaked over her hip and he pulled her to him, his finger dipping into her pussy. Sensation rioted through her and she couldn’t help the escaping whimper. Both men had taken her body…but only in a dream. The physical touch had the first threads of her release already coiling low in her belly.

His tongue pushed, breaching the puckered hole again and again, relentless, tormenting. His fingers bit into her skin and fire chased up her spine, had her empty pussy aching in need. And still her need to push at him, to force him to speak to her, dogged her thoughts. “Is this all you have?”

His growl, burning with fury, ran hot over her skin. A finger replaced his tongue, slick from his mouth and then another followed, stretching her, sinking deeper, harder, faster. Her release pulsed in her flesh, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.

Lucas’ body pressed up against hers, his skin hot, his breathing broken. “This?” His knuckles pushed her skin and the blunt head of his cock teased her hole. He guided it, stroking, teasing over the wetness of her pussy. “I could fuck you here.” His low whisper taunted her and she pushed down her sudden, sharp panic. If he replaced Marek then the start of what they had would end. He groaned at the slide of his cock through her folds. “In the physical world, still a virgin. And I haven’t had one of those for…” He sighed against her shoulder. “I can’t even count the centuries.” His smile turned sharp. “And it’d be satisfying. Seeing my cock take your virginity.” He rocked his hips faster against her, the blunt head of his cock stroking over her sweet spot so that light danced before her eyes. “Spoil you for your precious primary.”

Her heart twisted. “No.” Her breaths came out in short gasps. “No, Lucas. Fuck me. Take my ass. Please.”

His grin burned against her shoulder. The angle of his hips shifted and she groaned at the push of his cock against her ass. His strong hands gripped her, parted her and he thrust. He breached her hole and the first fire of her release spiraled up through her flesh. “This is mine,” he muttered against her skin. “Never doubt it.”

“Yes…” The word trailed away at the hard stroke of him into her body, the fullness making her heart pound. “Yours.”

He eased back and the tug on her flesh broke a curse from her. She needed him, faster, fucking her, spinning them together, binding them. She met his next thrust and the pleasure-pain of him buried deep in her ass, of his fingers digging hard into her hips, thundered through her blood. “Again.” She hardly recognized the growling woman as herself.

Lucas obeyed, pulled back and stroked deep. Her spine arched and her body rioted. She splayed her hands against the cold wall, bracing herself, the fire in her veins, the dark heat flowing over her skin making her feel like a woman possessed. And she was. She was no longer trapped by being a ward. She was free and as much a dark soul as him.

“Yes…” Lucas’ low, satisfied groan washed over her. “I can feel you now, Ash. Feel what you are. Kairas. Delicious. Forbidden.” He thrust into her again and the ache in her pussy deepened. “Mine.”

A flare of release, short, brief, simply a promise of what was to come swept over her. She met his next thrust and the wild “other” woman broke from her. “Then fuck me.”

His laughter was hard and he tugged her back, deepening the push of his cock. He stroked harder, faster into her ass, giving her no time to think, to protest…and she didn’t want to. They were dark souls, bound together with dream magic, weaving the first of their physical bonds. She had to drive the words from him, make him prove that the first wildness of binding emotion touched their attraction. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, her heart thudding, and there on the edge of her flesh she could feel the deeper stirring of her release, a heavy weight low in her belly, the promise of—

“Imagine if Marek could see us…” The hard slap of his hips against hers rose above their labored breathing. “See how I’m fucking you. Would it please him?”

The words burned deep into her soul and fire flickered. “Yes.” She could almost see Marek watching her, the fierce fury of his desire lighting his dark eyes. His hand would snake down over the smooth muscle of his belly to grip his cock and she could hear the command in his voice. “He wants…my mouth on him.”

Lucas groaned and words in an unknown language rushed over her hot skin and ignited the need in her body. She shook, the pressure of her release so tight, so hot in her flesh she could almost taste it. Lucas pushed deep into her ass, a tormenting rhythm that she couldn’t fight and it drove her… She bit down on a shaking cry. Heat raced through her, a burning fury of fire and light and joy, overwhelming her, stripping her of everything she was, leaving her open and naked.

And still Lucas fucked her, his hands tight on her hips, his breath short. He shaped words she didn’t understand, but she felt them push into her flesh as sure and as hard as he did. Her pussy tightened and the rise of fresh pleasure was undeniable…and it took her. The raw tastes of magic, known, but buried under the power of being a ward, filled her mouth, her senses. It thrummed under her skin, a vivid fire in too many colors, that ignited the pleasure coursing through her. She cried out and the power of her magic reached out to Lucas.

He came with a wild shout, his erratic thrusts pushing fresh heat into her ass, his hands easing back from the bite into her skin to caress her belly, cup her breasts and hold him to her. “Bound to me,” he murmured and pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder. “Mine. I spoke the words of binding into your open flesh.” He hugged her to him, his soft laughter warming her, the warm pulse of magic easing in a glow of spiraling magic into their sated flesh. The sense of strength and reassurance lingered and she let out a slow sigh. She realized how close she was to him now, the touch of his emotions weaving through hers.

“Thank you.” His sigh brushed her skin. “I never thought to have this honor.”

Ash closed her eyes, not yet ready to experience the pain lurking in Lucas’ past. He smiled and dropped another quick kiss to her shoulder. “In time,” he murmured. “It’s the joy and the curse of a dark soul to know everything.”

With a soft sigh, he eased from her body and then he swung her up into his arms. Ash squeaked, taken by surprise. Lucas carried her back to the bed and laid her gently on the rumpled sheets. She watched him walk across the room, his naked beauty gilded with golden stripes of sunlight streaking through the closed shutters. The noise from the street below was a continuous low thrum, broken by the occasional shout or the bray of a discontented mule. Ash’s eyes began to close, her sated body wanting to slip easily into sleep…

A lukewarm, damp cloth pressing against her backside made her start, her limbs jerking as she fought to wake up.

Lucas shushed her. “Just me,” he murmured.

He pressed a dry cloth to her skin, slow strokes warming through her. A sigh escaped her. The lazy patterns of Lucas’ fingertips against her bare backside drew a smile across her lips, and she felt it echoed in him, almost as if it covered her own lips. “This is very strange.”

“Having demon blood has some benefits.”

He slipped his arm over her waist, the heat of his naked flesh pushing her towards sleep again. His large hand cupped her breast and she eased her thigh between his, the tangling of their bodies something they both wanted. The aroma of mint drifted across her skin, sharp, cool, and she frowned.

“I bought oil.” His soft, deep voice rumbled pleasantly against her back. “Knew that we would have to perform the next rite in our bond.” His laughter pushed a lazy smile over her own mouth. “I was not expecting the need I had for you.”

“So you swilled and chewed on mint…and cloves.” Cloves had appeared in her thoughts, unbidden, unexpected. Had it come from Lucas’ mind? “Yes, this is incredibly strange.”

“It’s the first time for me too, Ash.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the noises of rumbling wagons and the shouts and clatter of the people almost a pleasant sound now. The temple—even Marek’s house—had held a heavy silence, but the feeling of connecting with the outside world eased around her and she felt safe in Lucas’ arms. As safe as she had felt in the temple before the thieves—or whoever they were—had desecrated the sanctuary.

“We’ll become closer,” he murmured and the promise of that drifted her eyes shut, the smooth deepness of his voice lulling her. “Sharing so many things. Who we are will flow together, merge.” His fingers stroked her breast and he pulled her closer to him, his thigh pressing hard against her sex. “Melt into each other.”

Flickers of fire teased her skin, but the exhaustion outweighed it. There had been too much already in her day, and for a woman used to the marble floor of a temple, not even the delicious promise of Lucas could keep her from sleeping.

She felt his smile against her shoulder. “Then you must sleep.” The soft words wove through her. “I will be here…and ready when you awake.”

Ash grinned and stroked his arm, the heat, muscled strength and hair-roughened skin still a curiosity, even after sharing her nights with Marek. “I’m certain of it.” She snuggled back against him as he dropped the covers over her. She’d grown used to a man in her bed. “Can Marek feel us?” Her heart jumped. “We didn’t distract him?”

“No.” The easiness of his reassurance slipped under her skin. He believed that Marek was safe, the pride at the strength of his chosen primary coloring his thoughts. “See? I’ve met a rare few like Marek in my long life. He’s…perfection. A rare balance of powers. We chose well in him. His own honor guides and holds him, not the power of rules.” He kissed her neck. “He’ll come back to us.”

Ash closed her eyes again, trusting him. It was a relief. Marek would come back to them, back to her. “Is having demon blood always like this?”

“Only if you’re very, very lucky.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“Of course you did.” He shifted against her, his sigh almost carnal. “Sleep, Ash, before I change my mind.”

She gave his hand a gentle slap. “And stay out of my head,” she murmured. “I want a restful sleep.”

“I will obey you in all things, lady.”

And his words followed her down into sleep.

* * * * *

She half woke at the touch of fingers on her face. The musty scent of the bed, the hint of salt in the air and Lucas’ tight embrace pushed thoughts of Marek’s hidden rooms into her mind. His hand flexed around her breast and she smirked at the push of Lucas’ hard cock into the cleft of her ass. Though from the heaviness of his breathing, he seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep. She brushed the back of his hand, his strength, the corded veins so foreign…and exciting. His breath stirred her neck and he showed no signs of waking…and he’d promised he’d be ready for her.

A smile touched her lips and then she realized that the soft stroke of fingertips across her cheek didn’t belong to Lucas.

“Marek?”

“Been busy?” Marek sat on the side of the bed. The sun had shifted, taking away the golden stripes of light, and it was hard to make out his face in the gloom. His thumb toyed with her lip and her pussy tightened. Lucas’ hips rolled against her almost in reflex and she gasped. “I see you have. Did you enjoy him?”

The sudden dull pain in her gut surprised her and it felt surprisingly like…guilt. Guilt from what? Her instincts had screamed that they needed time alone to form their bond. She blinked. No, she was reacting to something from Marek. He felt guilty for leaving her with Lucas? But that didn’t make sense. The need to reassure him burned through her. “Our instincts pushed us…and it was glorious.” She let out a soft sigh, the memory of Lucas warming her flesh. As if feeling her arousal—which Lucas no doubt could—his hips pushed against hers, his cock slipping over her pussy. “If you could have seen us, Marek…”

“That was not my privilege.” His words tightened the knot of guilt in her gut, thickening it, and she didn’t understand from where it came. With a final stroke of her lip, he lifted his finger from her face and his hand dropped to the bed as a fist. “And this is him protecting you?”

“I was aware of you as the door opened.” No sleep blurred Lucas’ voice. His hand eased from her breast and slipped under the covers. Ash pressed her lips together as he cupped her, his first finger dipping into her damp flesh to tease her sweet spot. “The second’s rite has been spoken, primary. Ash is bound to me. Now you must—”

“We don’t have time for this.” With that angry mutter, he pushed himself up from the bed. “I can’t fuck the afternoon away.”

Ash watched him pace, the threads of need easing back in her flesh. Her primary didn’t want her. The unexpected pain of that thought stung her eyes and she shut them to stop the flow of stupid tears. Damn it, what was wrong with her?

Lucas kissed her neck, the gesture comforting, and his warm breath flowed over her skin. “He’s tired,” he murmured and then he paused for a string of heartbeats. His body tensed around her. “You’re injured, Marek.”

Marek’s pacing stopped. He straightened, but obviously favored his right side. “There were almost more of them than I could count.” He pulled in a slow breath. “I could use some of that ward magic right now.” His laughter turned bitter. “But we did away with that, didn’t we?”

Ash pulled herself free of Lucas, her heart beating hard. Nervous, she approached Marek, her hand skimming his arm. He flinched and her stomach cramped. “How badly injured?” She shot a glance back to Lucas. “Is there some magic you know? Something that could help him?”

Lucas ran a hand through his untidy hair, sat up and planted his feet on the floor. Thankfully the sheet covered his nakedness. “Our healing magic is often tied up with sex.” He caught her gaze and looked down to his lap, fully aware that her attention kept straying there. A wicked smile tugged at his mouth. “Something of interest, Ash?”

Her mouth thinned and she pushed her anger at him without thought. It wrapped around him, a heavy blanket of hot irritation that she pressed against his bare skin.

Lucas blinked and rolled his neck, dissipating her emotion. His smile deepened. “Nicely done.”

“What…?”

“You forced your thoughts on him. Ancient magic.”

Marek’s low voice snapped her attention back to him and she remembered that he was injured, that she should be trying to help him…not falling into whatever it was between herself and Lucas. “Marek, where are you hurt?”

He winced and stepped back from her. “I’m a custodian. I have my own magic to rebuild me.” He let out a slow breath and hitched the leather strap of his bag over his head. His wince deepened. “This is more important.” He looked over to Lucas. “Light a lamp.”

Lucas arced a bristling stream of light to the oil lamp on the table. The wick caught and the low golden glow brightened and spread out across the room. He disappeared into the small kitchen, reappearing with their clothes. Ash caught Marek’s frown before his face fell into its usual professional mask.

She shrugged on her tunic and watched Marek spread out the rumpled sheets. He straightened and a brief flicker of pain crossed his features. He closed his eyes for the space of a heartbeat and then opened his bag.

He pulled out books and papers, piling them until he found the one he wanted. Some Ash recognized from the cellar cupboard, some from his stacks of books that had lined the shelves in his office. Her heart turned over. “You went into the house.”

“I had to,” he muttered.

“But you said…”

He held her gaze and the heat there caught her breath. His beauty, the need she had for him swept through her and the ache, her instinct to finish what they had started, burned. Anger darkened his face and he stared back at the paper-covered bed.

“I grabbed everything I could on the Kairas.” He unfolded a book, opening it out to reveal the skeleton of a family tree. He glanced back to the narrow arch. “We don’t have much time left here. But I need to know who started all of this.”

“Lucas, guard the door, this magic will light the place up like a beacon.” He looked down at the man’s bare feet. “Dress first.” His gaze slid to Ash and something sparked in his eyes that she couldn’t name. It tightened her heart though. “You too.”

She did as she was told without argument. Marek was injured and whoever had the strength to hurt him would find them. She pulled on her breeches and slippers, Lucas yanked on his boots before he gave her a short nod and disappeared into the shadowed archway.

“Here, hold this.” Marek gave her the lamp and warm light swept over the yellowed paper. Ash stared at names scratched on to the parchment. The letters twisted, melted into new shapes and formed words she could read. She blinked, heat blooming in her chest…but then Marek was speaking.

“This is accurate. As accurate as the custodians could make it.” He frowned. “But it should be opened in a spell-protected treasury room.” He glanced up to the shadowed ceiling. “Not here.”

“It’s a dark soul family history,” Ash murmured, reading the names of the four matriarch demons heading the chart. Dardanas branched one way. Kairas, the other. Never touching. She scanned the descending branches, reading clan names that could cover thousands of people. None of the four lines intersected and deep in her belly she felt the push of the forbidden. A matriarch guarded her line with a fierce jealousy. Certain names glowed and she had the urge to touch them…but she curled her fingers into tight fists.

“You can read this?” Marek’s dark gaze fixed on her, she felt it in the hot burn of her skin, but she didn’t look at him. “Ash?”

“The letters…moved into shapes I knew.” She shrugged as the light flickered over the paper. Names jumped out at her, three near the bottom of each branch giving off a heavy glow. “Why are they shining?”

“Of course, you bonded with him.” Marek tapped a glowing name. “That’s Lucas’ family. The Vahe.”

Her finger skimmed another glowing name from the Dardanas branch. “Sahak.” The word felt right in her mouth and her connection to it pushed deep in her blood. Branches splintered and there was Marek’s name, glowing in a shining balance of silver and gold. She looked up. “And that’s your family.”

Marek’s mouth thinned, his eyes narrowing, but he said nothing. He skimmed the parchment, drawing the families back to the first page. “The Kairas line ends here.” He tapped the last name on a branch that ended halfway up the chart. It held a soft glow too. “One of the more obscure Bukharan imperial lines. Supposedly bred out of the current rulers.” He swept his hand over the parchment and the lines and names shimmered and shifted to form a new pattern with the imperial name Arrosa heading the tree. More of the clans glowed. “And obviously a false supposition.”

“Why is it doing that? Glowing?” she asked.

“It feels our blood.” He urged her to lift the guttering lamp and the fall of the names across the parchment became more pronounced. “This is your lineage.”

“Mine?” Ash recognized some of the names from her childhood history lessons, the clans of ancient kings who had founded Bukhara, the families of generals and bureaucrats who had maintained the growing empire down the centuries. Her blood swam with history…yet, she’d been abandoned, given to the temple to guard ancient magic. “These are all my family?”

“To a degree. The brighter the glow, the stronger the association.” Marek traced his finger over the emperor’s family Balere and the names blurred again, reforming to show the individuals born to that family. One name burned against the yellowed parchment. “Zorion,” he murmured. “Distant cousin to the Emperor.” Another tap and more shifting of ink across the parchment. A host of names fanned across the page. “And he’s been busy.”

Ash blinked. There was her name inscribed in neat, black ink. “He’s my father?”

Marek paused before he murmured, “Yes.”

She took a back step and her hand covered her mouth, her fingers pressing hard into her jaw. She pulled in a tight breath. “And these are all my brothers and sisters?”

“As I said, he’s been busy.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “And this chart only shows his descendents who received his demonic heritage. Zorion is…I don’t know how old.” He let out a slow breath. “He’s a highest ranking custodian. The Senior Prime.”

“Have you never looked at this book before?”

Marek straightened and quickly folded the chart. “No.”

“Because you had the suspicion you’d find yourself on there?”

He pushed the other papers back into his bag. “Owning this document brings the death penalty. Custodians despise ancient magic.”

Ash snorted. “Except one.”

“Yes. Except one.” He turned and grabbed the bag stocked with food. “Now we have to get away from here.”

“But we still don’t know where this marker is.”

“It’s in the city.”

A short laugh escaped her. “That’s not helpful, Marek.”

“Zorion is a creature of habit—”

He took her hand and the fierce heat of the sudden contact brought them both to silence. His fingers flexed around hers and she didn’t miss the muscle twitch in his jaw. Her need to ignore her own safety, shove him back on the bed and ride him ’til pleasure burst through them both almost overwhelmed her. She sucked in a slow breath, desperate to ignore the hard pulse of need low in her belly.

“Now is not the time.” His words were hard, angered, and it soured her desire. She should’ve been grateful, but the reality of him not wanting her hurt.

“Then when?”

The other woman, the one who had growled at Lucas, had raised her head. Ash gritted her teeth together, wishing she could bite back the words, but Marek stopped at the shadowed archway. The darkness swallowed him, only glints of gold highlighting his face, and her need to corner him, to continue and complete their half-formed bond was fire in her veins.

“I’m not a slave to the blood of my father.” His voice had an edge of anger that heated her flesh and she couldn’t help herself, she took a step closer. “I will not be a slave to you.”

“We’re all equals.” And it felt strange to be repeating something Lucas had said, but they were. “And you must prove that in my flesh.”

“You’re all unproven instinct.” He tugged her forward, taking her into the darkness of the archway. Ahead, she could almost feel Lucas, the shape and heat of him in the chilled shadows. “What you feel in your flesh isn’t real.”

“And you know that how?”

“Ash…” The low growl of her name shivered over her skin and she fought the ache that he said didn’t exist. “It takes more than a few words spoken into your open mind to form a bond with a dark soul. A unity, to form deomos.” Her foot slithered on the worn stone of the twisting stairwell and his hand tightened around hers, keeping her steady.

“Then what does it take?”

Marek descended the stairs in silence. “Now isn’t the time to discuss this.”

The finality in his voice spiked her, running a chill through her blood with the touch of his influencing magic. A thin wash of light shone above Lucas as she stood at the door to the tunnel entrance. He lifted an eyebrow and his gaze fixed on Marek.

“Here, take this.” Marek shrugged the bag from his shoulder and handed it to him. “Anything?”

Lucas frowned. “Something.” He slung the bag across his chest. “More intense than the change in the air wrought by the marker.” He paused and frowned. “They’re…dogs…and hunting demon blood.”

“Not dogs.” Marek led the way into the shadows and stopped at a wall of blackness. His hand rubbed over the wall, the sound of his skin against plaster, wood and then the grate of metal broke the harsh silence. “The custodians breed them beneath the citadel, work magic into their flesh. They hunt dark souls.”

Cold washed over her. “But never you?”

Hinges creaked and a slice of light edged a narrow doorway. “Not me.” He tugged the door open to reveal a corridor. Daylight carved shadows against the thin bricks. Marek pushed her out and waited for Lucas to follow before he yanked the door back into place. He slid heavy bolts back into place, securing it. “I made a point of staying away.”

“Just in case?”

Marek ignored Lucas’ sarcastic comment. “Only their handlers are safe. The animals are vicious.”

“But wouldn’t Zorion be found by these animals?” she asked. Marek took her hand, her fingers lost in his tight grip. The familiar stir of her flesh almost wiped out the need for questions and she fought it. “They’d pick him out as being a dark soul.”

He shrugged. “Not something I’m wondering right now. They can track us.” His gaze slid to Lucas. “Track a full-blood dark soul with ease.”

“Then that gives us a plan.” Lucas lifted the bag from his chest and gave it to Ash, raiding the contents as she held it. He straightened, one hand full. “You find the marker. I’ll pull the trackers from you.”

“No!” The word burst from her. Panic rioted in her veins. He couldn’t put himself in danger. Selfishly, she wanted her men by her. They were hers and she would keep them close. Ash shook her head against the insane thoughts chasing through her brain. “Lucas…”

His mouth covered hers and the bag of food hit the floor, the rise of need hot and immediate. She caught her fingers in his hair, the hand that held Marek’s digging fingertips hard into his palm. Lucas held her against him, the wild clash of his lips, teeth, tongue with hers everything she wanted. His thigh pushed between hers and he swallowed her groan. He would take her—hunting dogs be damned—and Marek would see the fierce bond already forced in their flesh and ache to make his complete—

“Enough.” The single word was a low growl that broke her mouth from Lucas with a hard sigh. Marek pulled her free. “Agreed. We split up.”

“Marek…” His cold glare silenced her.

“We have to get to the marker.”

“You don’t even know where it is!”

Marek’s mouth thinned and he began to stride down the narrow tunnel. Hastily, Ash grabbed the pack and stumbled after him. “Zorion doesn’t leave the palace complex. He will have the marker brought to him.” The clatter and row of the street echoed over the brick walls and Marek stopped at the open entrance. “Keep moving, Lucas. Take to the river if you can. Water confuses them.”

He gave a brief nod. He cupped his palm to her cheek and Ash leaned into his hot touch. The brush of his lips against hers was too little and dissatisfaction burned a sour ache down to her belly. Lucas’ mouth found her ear. “I will stay safe, I promise.” She felt the curve of a smile against her skin and it twisted her heart. “And Marek? Well, I think our primary is hot with jealousy. Just as he should be.”

A wry smile broke across her mouth. She doubted it. “Good luck, Lucas. You’re mine…and I hate losing things.”

His smile deepened to a grin and his soft laughter warmed her. “As you command, lady.” He stepped back, straightened, and fixed his dark gaze on Marek. “I won’t fail you.”

Marek didn’t reply, but glanced back down the tunnel. “The magic securing those bolts won’t hold them for long.”

Lucas took another step back, turned and disappeared into the crowd, weaving around a slave-carried litter and then, even as Ash’s eyes strained to see him, he vanished beneath the high, brick arch of the aqueduct. Simply another dark head in the mass of chattering people. She pulled in a slow breath and willed her body to relax, but tears burned and one ran cold against her cheek.

“Time for us to go too.”

Ash have a slow nod and walked beside Marek on leaden feet. This was wrong and dangerous and her stomach roiled against it. They shouldn’t split up. Their strength came from being together, everything in her screamed that…as every step took her away from Lucas.

Chapter Nine

Screams burst over the clunk and clatter of amphorae being rolling into the front of a tavern. Her body tensed and Marek pulled her around the sweating slaves. It had been a woman’s scream, sharp and cut-off. Ash hated that she took comfort in the fact that it was a woman and not a man, not Lucas. She blew out a slow breath and Marek’s hand tightened around hers.

“Don’t turn around.”

Ash bit at the inside of her cheek and denied the sharp retort. Did he think she was going to gawk like an idiot and let their pursuers see her face? “Are they following us or Lucas?”

Marek pushed her ahead of him, through a loose knot of ambling Khazret sailors, his body close, shielding her. The street darkened, the overhanging balconies from the cramped shop fronts blocking what was left of the afternoon sun. Already people hung lanterns, driving back the heavy shadows with a soft golden glow. The thin scent of smoke mixed with stale beer, wine and other, thicker odors that Ash blocked from her thoughts.

“From the feel of it, they’ve split up. I can’t tell how many.” Marek followed her across the broad stones that raised the road from the filth washed into the street from a charnel house. He pulled her onto the brick pavement stretching between the arches of a colonnade. But the stink of blood and meat thickened the air and Ash pressed her hand to her mouth and nose.

“Would this put them off?”

“They have magic in their flesh. The stink of blood isn’t going to distract them.”

They crossed the broad stones of another, smaller street, Marek’s stride even. He wove with skill around merchants and knots of slaves and women clustered around drinking fountains. Everyone was simply going about their day, unaware that the air had changed. Now Ash, her mind opened by Lucas, could feel the sour weight of it pressing against her thoughts, tasting bitter on her tongue.

Another scream punctured the late afternoon air and more than one Bukharan stopped, staring back down the narrow curve of the crowded street. Ash’s heart turned over. The screams were getting closer, which meant the handlers with dark soul hunting dogs were getting closer too…but Marek didn’t increase his pace.

“They’re going to find us.”

His mouth thinned. “There are a lot of people between us and them. Most Bukharans have an interesting heritage. The dogs find them a distraction.” He broke from the shadowed twist of the narrow street into a broader road, properly paved. A small shrine to Fausta marked its beginning. The arching marble looked worn, too many fingers and mouths wearing down the statue beneath the curve of gray stone. She was more a shadow of the goddess, but Ash took it as a good sign and silently said a short prayer, asking for luck to stay with them, and especially with Lucas.

The town houses lining the wide street were grander, slaves bustling in the lush market gardens, the white civil robes of bureaucrats caught in the greenery of fig trees and twisting vines. Warm light filtered to the road, washing over her face, and for a short moment with the scent of jasmine weaving through the air, Ash was almost, almost back in the temple courtyard…

Until the cut-off shriek of a man jerked her forward and she let out a yelp of her own.

“Nothing to worry about,” Marek murmured, his mouth close to her ear. She shivered at the contact of his lips against her skin. “It’s not him.”

“I know.” And she did. There would have been an emptiness, a hollow place in her soul. Lucas was still alive. Alive and hers. She could feel him striding down a cobbled dock, the taste of salt air in his mouth, his skin hot. His heart raced, but he felt…powerful. A smile curved her mouth. He’d been encased in gold for four hundred years. Even being hunted by dogs was better than that. “He’s by the docks.”

Marek straightened and glanced into the sky. Already a touch of orange softened the clouds. The day had slipped into the eighth hour. By the tenth it would be getting dark. And the streets of Bukhara were at their most dangerous then. Ash had watched the forum from her bell tower, seen bodyguards with torches protecting their masters as they crossed the vast square. Caught the glint of daggers in the shadows of the basilica. The oppressive magic of the temple had blocked the sounds of the city. Looking back, Ash was grateful.

His stride quickened and it revealed the strain in his muscles, the injury from the fight that still gripped his body. “We should make the palace before it gets too dark.”

“Or the dogs find us.”

Marek lifted a dark eyebrow and the intensity of his gaze broke her rhythm and made her stumble. “You doubt me?”

Her mouth dried and the need to find the nearest wall and shove him against it fired through her. She pursed her lips and ripped her attention away. She focused on the pavement, on the cobbles smoothed by time. The pattern of rounded stones curved away in front of her and she followed them, tracing out shapes and sinuous lines. Anything that would break the need she had to strip Marek bare. “You have to stop that.” She wanted to say more. That it wasn’t fair to play with her, with the need she had for him if he didn’t want her. But the pain of simply thinking it twisted around her heart. So she stayed silent.

Marek let out a slow breath. “I know.”

The clatter of a work cart on the wide street made her jump. She bit down on a curse and matched Marek’s pace. Every sound rawed her nerves. Oxen plodded past, their heavy heads hung low and dragging a cart stacked with cut timber.

Marek matched his speed with the cart. “We’ve been hearing screams.”

The carter looked up and straightened, arching his spine against the rough wooden back of his seat. “Somewhere down by the warehouses,” he said. He shrugged and scratched at his jaw. “One man said wolves were loose from the Emperor’s menagerie. With an emperor’s taste. They took down a garum merchant. Smashed amphorae. The air is thick enough to cut, they say.” He laughed. “Another that foreign sorcerers were hunting for sport.” His pale gaze drifted over Ash. “But you’d best get your lady home.” His brown, wrinkled cheek pulled into a wince. “I’ve heard rumors of deaths.”

Marek dug into his pocket and pulled out a small silver coin. He flipped it to the carter who caught the coin in a quick hand. “Thanks for the warning.”

The old man gave him a slow nod and settled back into a comfortable hunch. Marek broke into a faster stride. “Everyone talks to a carter,” he murmured. A smile cut his mouth. “Best source of information around.”

Ash wasn’t listening. She wrinkled her nose. “Can you smell that?”

“What?”

She shook her head. The scent was gone, the breeze lifting the light aroma of jasmine and orange before the heavier odors of the city obscured them. But she had smelled something else, the salt and earth and the rush of the river, combined with the ripe stink of wet fur. “Nothing.”

“Ash…?”

“Wet fur.” She bit out the words and increased her pace, feeling stupid. “Like those oxen.” She jabbed her thumb back to the two shaggy beasts dragging the cart over the wide cobbles. “Probably those oxen.”

Marek tightened his grip on her hand and wove through the gaggle of merchants strolling along the wide clean pavement, skirting around the slaves sweeping leaves and excrement into the drains. “You’re scenting the dogs.”

A fist tightened around her heart and she pushed down the wave of panic. “They’re here?” She fought her need to stare around her and the other need to run, fast and far. “But the carter said—”

“Not here—”

“Lucas?” His name came out on a squeak and Ash pressed her hand to her mouth. “They’ve found him?”

“What else did you sense?”

She stared ahead of her, her eyes unfocused, and chewed at the inside of her cheek. There. The brief touch of Lucas’ strong heartbeat and the churn and rush of river water. Wet wood and the musty scent of canvas soon followed. “He’s on a boat. I can’t smell the dogs. No. Wait.” Her pulse jumped. Just on the edge of her senses there lingered a hint of wet fur. Lucas was on the boat, but the hunters weren’t far behind. “They’re trailing. Close enough that he can smell them.”

Marek bit out a soft curse. “Too quick.”

He crossed the street and pulled her into a narrower street lined with tenements. People bustled in and out of colonnaded arches, a tavern spilled patrons out into the street, the heavy aroma of cooked meats pushing the smells of the river and dogs from her thoughts. She winced as her stomach growled.

“Eat something.”

Marek looked at the bag slung across her chest and she belatedly pulled out a long loaf and broke it in half. She handed it to Marek. “What will happen to him if they catch him?”

Marek released her hand to pull free a chunk of bread. He was silent as he chewed and his flour-covered fingers found hers again. The security of his touch eased some of her nerves, but only some as his silence stretched. His murmured “I don’t know” forced her to grip his hand tighter.

“But they’re bred to hunt and to kill?”

Marek gave a slow nod. “Remember, he’s a full-blooded dark soul. He’ll outrun them.”

Ash swallowed the dry bread, wincing against the slide of it down her throat. She expelled a heavy breath. “And there’s nothing you can do for him?”

“He’s the bait.” He stopped as the pavement dropped away to a low, cobbled road and a work cart loaded with bricks rumbled past. “He’s the reason we’re walking free.” He stepped across the wide stones, avoiding the oxen dung. “The reason why dogs aren’t tearing after us.”

“And you’re happy with that?” Had she meant the words to come out with such a cut of bitterness to them? Marek’s mouth thinned and a hint of anger tightened the corners of his eyes. “You’re his primary.”

Marek snorted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His angry strides ate up the stretch of thin-bricked pavement. Startled people scrambled from his path, faces blanched. He wasn’t wearing his custodian tunic, but something else, some other power pulsed from him. With her ward status broken, the throb of it was almost tangible. “You fuck him and you think you know what a deomos is?”

“I know that he did this for me…and for you.”

“He did this for Lucas Taysia.”

Heat burst across her face, reflecting the sudden flare of her anger. “You don’t believe that!”

“Ash…” The low, warning growl of her name deepened her rush of emotion. His dark gaze gripped her before he deliberately stared around the open street, the push and pull of strangers flowing around them. The tenements loomed on either side of the road, balconies hung with washing, with people leaning over wooden railings to share gossip. Eyes, ears and mouths belonging to Bukharans who could be bought for a brass para. “This is not the place to discuss this.”

“Then when?” She bit out the question in a raw whisper. “When he can sense the dogs again? When they catch him? When they tear him apart?” She pulled in a quick breath but it wasn’t enough and her chest heaved. Panic had her and it wasn’t letting go.

Marek pulled her down a narrow street between the tenements. A single oil lamp hung from a balcony, but it didn’t lift the brown gloom, and Ash still couldn’t breathe. The oppressive weight of panic on her chest made it impossible. He pushed her against the cracked plaster wall and took her face in his hands. “Look at me.” It was an order she had to obey. “Take a deep breath.”

She fought to pull in air, her gaze fixed on him, on the dull halo of gold shrouding his face, his hair.

“And again.”

The second breath was deeper and the hot burn in her chest eased.

“Another.”

With the pull of air came other scents. Pushing over the damp smell of old plaster, of people, of Marek, was the heavy odor of wet fur. She wrestled free of him, stumbling back into the deep shadows of the alley. She clamped her hand to her mouth and her heartbeat ramped. It seemed to be all around her, the cool air stinking with it.

She pressed her palm to the wall, trying to ground herself. Her nails dug into the crumbling plaster. “He’s not on the boat anymore.” The heaviness of the earth, of stone and brick pressed against her thoughts and she felt Lucas’ heart racing, the pounding of his boots over the smooth cobbles of the quay. “He’s running.”

Marek closed the distance between them, his hands gripping her arms like iron bands, but she couldn’t focus on him. She ran with Lucas, through the press of sailors and merchants, past the fresh catches of silver-skinned fish, and turned into a cavernous warehouse. He dodged porters rolling barrels…but the dogs, the dogs were so close…

Ash gagged at the rancid stench of their breath. A burst of white heat flashed over her, the stink of hot metal chasing after it.

A beast yowled, staggered but soon found its pace again. The rush of anxious fear almost swallowed her, hers and his combined. “His magic didn’t work against them.” The words came out in pants. “He flung…something…and the dog just…stumbled.”

“They’ve been bred with a high tolerance to ancient magic.”

Marek’s tight words skittered over her panicked thoughts, she heard them, but they meant nothing. The dogs were almost on Lucas, the heavy shadows behind, in front, to the sides holding low snarls and the sudden flash of razor-sharp teeth. All around him. His heart hammered and took hers with it.

“They’re…” She pressed her spine to the cold wall, too aware of the dogs, of rank breath, the drip of saliva from glistening fangs. The shifting ghosts of sharp, black muzzles, dark eyes and hulking, mottled bodies inched towards her across the alley. “Everywhere.”

“Ashsara!”

Her holy name snapped her attention to Marek. Anger thinned his mouth. “Break from him.”

She shook her head. How could their primary ask that of her? He should protect them. “I can’t…”

Marek blocked her body with his, his strength pressing hard against her. The golden glow of the oil lamp flickered around him, casting his face into deep shadow. His warm breath brushed her lips. “I order you, as your primary, to pull your mind free of Lucas.”

Her chest heaved and she fought to control the anger, the fear rioting through her. She had to obey her primary. It was a part of her growing bond. But he was asking her to leave Lucas, the man she cared for, a man who was a part of her flesh. Leave him to be shredded by a pack of ravenous dogs. “You can’t order that.”

“I can order you to do anything.” The raw rasp of his voice burned under her skin and the ghosts of the dogs, their stench, faded back. Marek’s male scent replaced them. “It’s my right.”

“No.”

His hard hands shaped her waist, her hip and he gripped her backside, pressing her hard against him. “Break your contact from Lucas. You can’t help him now.”

Ash bit at her lip, denying the hot run of emotion that had tears burning. The dogs were too close and she felt the desperation in Lucas, the hot fear, his need for her. “I won’t leave him.”

“Then you give me no choice.”

His mouth covered hers in a sudden, ruthless kiss, his tongue stroking against hers. She pushed her hands against his chest, struggling to get free of him, to cling to the fading contact with Lucas, but Marek was immovable. He pressed her into the wall, his fingers gripping her ass and then her thigh, lifting, parting her so that he pushed the length of his erection against her aching flesh.

She groaned, her fingers fisting the thick material of his tunic. He thrust against her and sparks danced behind her eyes. His soft, pleasured moan sank into her flesh. And with a start, she realized that her grasp on Lucas was gone.

Ash crushed her eyes against the run of tears, Marek forcing unwanted fire through her body. She wanted to scream at him, plant her fist into his face, but her other need, the one that wanted him hard and strong inside, clashed with it. She pushed her fingers through his hair, gripping him, driving his mouth against hers.

He had broken her from Lucas. And she would take him hard and fast for it.

His thrusts increased, the barrier of their clothes fueling her desperation. She ripped her mouth from his, glaring at him, hating him, wanting him. “If you’re going to fuck me, you’d better make it good.”

Desire burned in his eyes and the power of her primary shone there—and just as suddenly it was gone. Almost as if a heavy screen dropped over who he was. Marek pulled in a ragged breath and his gaze darted around her face before he met her eyes again. His hard grip on her thigh eased and he let her leg drop.

“The contact is gone.”

Pain pushed through her chest and she scrubbed a hand over her damp eyes. “You broke it, yes.”

Marek stepped back from her. “You couldn’t be with him.”

“Why?” She stabbed the question at him. “He needed me…and I…I abandoned him.”

“I protected your mind, and his.” Marek wiped his fingers over his mouth, his jaw, and pulled in a heavy breath. “It was all I could do.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

“Yes, it was.”

He gripped her arm but she shrugged free of him. “I can’t feel him at all.”

Marek tilted his head. “What does your gut tell you?”

She glared at him, but under his steady, hard gaze she was forced to push at her feelings. Ash closed her eyes. The cool air of the alley pressed against her, the heavy odors of the city cutting across her thoughts. Lucas Taysia. She thought his name, felt it sink into her flesh and a warmth surrounded her. Her panicked heart eased. She sensed heavy, brown darkness, the odor of cloth and leather filling her. Everything moved, a fast rock and judder. Wood creaked.

Ash pushed harder and the familiar rhythm of a strong heartbeat thudded just out of time with her own. Lucas. Her mind whispered his name and his pulse changed. A hint of a smile touched his lips and the feel of it, the relief made her echo him. Lucas was asleep, drugged, but alive.

She let out a slow breath and opened her eyes. “He’s alive. He isn’t in pain, but he’s drugged. They’re taking him…somewhere.”

Marek stroked his fingers over her hot cheek and she wished she could see the expression on his shadowed face. “Breaking contact protected you both,” he muttered. He moved closer, the heat of his body covering hers. His thumb brushed her lower lip and he dipped his head. The light, warm kiss pressed an unexpected ache under her heart. “I will find him.”

She had to be imagining the emotion in his eyes and her stomach knotted, the first relief of Lucas being alive now gone. “How? He’s drugged, in a wagon, going who knows where—”

Marek silenced her with another kiss, still light, and yet something about it… She sighed. It felt precious. “I will find him.” He stepped back from her and his fingers slipped down her arm to take her hand. “After all, his breath is yours.”

There should have been more. Ash felt the words hanging on the air between them. But Marek tugged her along the dark, deserted alley between the tenements. She shook her head. She didn’t understand a world where Marek was almost…kind. “What now? Will they hunt us?”

“They’ll concentrate on us now that they know that Lucas was alone.”

The bright sunlight carving across the colonnade forced her to wince, the noise, the fresh stink of people and animals hitting her after the musty stench of the alley. She tensed as the sun glinted off the burnished armor of the street soldiers. They didn’t interfere with the affairs of the custodians, but still, she didn’t trust them not to be co-opted into the madness. “Is there no way to mask us?”

“Our blood doesn’t scream to them. That’s our only advantage.”

“Not much of an advantage.”

“You work with what you have.” Marek wove quickly through the afternoon crowds. “We have to get the marker back before Zorion uses it to find whatever the treasure really is.”

“And then what? I’m not a ward anymore.” She shook her head and a shiver of remembrance ran through her. “It marked something living, a beast.”

Marek flicked a glance at her, his gaze dark and something more. Something that had the surge of need racing through her body. A single look from him could warm her flesh, even at the most inappropriate times. If he sealed their bond—

She almost laughed at herself. They were on the run, hunted by dogs with magic bred into their bones, Lucas had been captured and taken she didn’t know where…and what occupied her? Getting Marek pushed up against the nearest wall, stripping him and sinking down on his hot, hard—

Ash bit at the inside of her cheek to stop the flare of desire in her flesh. “So what’s your great plan, Marek?” She couldn’t fight the sarcasm. Hell, it couldn’t be any worse than breaking into the palace to hunt down the emperor’s cousin.

“It’s simple.” Marek side-stepped a slave leading a bow-necked horse into a blacksmith’s shop. “We find the treasure—your beast—ourselves.”

Chapter Ten

Ash gaped at him. All right, it was worse than anything she could have thought. “You’re insane.”

“It’s the only choice we have now.” His mouth thinned. “I know I trust myself not to try to control the beast. Zorion.” A muscle jumped in his lean jaw. “I’ve met him once. I wouldn’t trust him with a spark of ancient magic.”

The memory of the beast that had swept down over her, almost devouring her, whipped again through her thoughts. The power it held—she could still feel it coursing through her blood. Nothing could deny or control that thing, not even Marek’s iron will. “Marek…”

“So what would be your plan?”

“Rescue Lucas.”

“Then what?” He snapped the question at her. “You run from Bukhara with him?” He pulled in an angry breath and stopped at the edge of the pavement. The solid, wooden bulk of a private carriage pulled by four thick-bodied horses blocked the path across. “Zorion will use this treasure. We have to stop him.”

“Even if that means using it ourselves?”

“Yes, even—shit.” He tensed, his body frozen and his fingers a vise around hers. “I can smell them.”

Ash’s heart squeezed and she shoved down the hot surge of panic. “How far is it to the palace?”

Marek cursed under his breath. “A mile.” He glanced behind him, but Ash couldn’t find the courage to do the same. “Maybe more.” He lifted his shoulders. “I think we’re going to have to use a little trickery.” Quickly he crossed the broad stones. “There was a rumor about how the dogs were trained to hunt. Dark souls stink to these animals. It’s how the ancient magic corrupted their flesh. The rumor is that they have to train them hard to avoid one scent in particular. It confuses them.”

Ash’s mind leapt back to the carter. “The garum seller.” And then she winced. “Garum.”

He gave her a short smile. “I never acquired the taste for liquid made from sun-rotted fish guts.”

“It was a favorite of the first priest. Smelling it on his breath is as close as I ever want to come.” She let out a soft snort. “You know, you and Lucas don’t smell like that.”

“Good to know. It was also the reason I took this route.”

He pulled her into a tavern thick with patrons, weaving through the tables, the delicious scent of roasting meat heavy on the shadowed air. Ash ignored the leers and Marek caught the hand of the man who tried to grab her backside. Her accoster’s face turned a bright purple as Marek’s fingers tightened around his wrist. His knees hit the tiles and his groan was strangled. Marek let him go and he crumpled to the beer-slopped floor. No other man tried to touch her.

They pushed out through the open archway into a small courtyard and the rich smell of roasted meat, carried out with them, changed. A sharp tang, cut with the hint of rot, wove through the air. The tenement was low, having only two stories and a flight of stone steps that led up to the flat roof. Slaves walked the roof and three great wooden pulleys sat along its length. The central pulley creaked and groaned and lowered a wide barrel down to the trader a few feet in front of them…and with the barrel came the stink.

“Ah, the perfume the emperor adores,” declared the trader, wafting his heavily ringed hand over the open barrel to bring the scent to his nose.

“Tekani Metri.”

The man froze, the thick silk of his jacket straining across his broad back. He turned on his heel—almost a forced action—and gave Marek a flourishing bow. “Lord Savada. To what do I owe this pleasure?” His hand pressed to his chest and his fingers curled against something in an obscured pocket. “I trust that everything is well with you and your profession.”

Marek closed the distance between them, taking Ash with him. The stench from the open barrel of sun-heated fish guts forced water from her eyes. She swallowed and tried to breathe through her mouth. It didn’t work. The stink of the fish sat on her tongue. The dogs thought she smelled like that? It was an insult.

“Everything is fine.” He gave Tekani a short smile that did little to ease the tight wariness of the other man. “I’ve come to you concerning a delicate matter.” He shot a look up to the slaves at the pulley and they hastily scuttled back. “One I need to discuss in private.”

Tekani waved his hand down the courtyard. “My office is this way.”

They followed him to a dark, wooden door, which he unlocked and pushed open onto a small windowless office. His hand flapped, obviously searching for something in the heavy shadows.

“Here, let me,” Marek murmured and a spark of white light unerringly found the clay oil lamp. The fizz and crackle of the wick in the oil filled the silence and a soft, golden light lifted some of the shadows.

Tekani picked up the lamp, using it to light his way across to his broad desk. He sank into a high-backed chair and steepled his fingers. His many rings glinted. He was trying to slip into his professional persona, but a line of sweat edged his hairline and his gaze darted to the door as Marek closed it. The metal hinges ground together. Yes, Marek scared him.

Ash glanced at her custodian, cut by light, the hard turn of his features setting a fast pace to her pulse. She blew out a slow breath. Until they had sex, until they sealed whatever bond Marek didn’t believe in, her desire for him would live heavy in her thoughts.

He pointed to a seat and she sat. He sat next to her, stretching out, apparently a man with time and no deep worries. His head tilted and Tekani twitched. There was something of the predator in Marek. And she wanted it.

“Your treasure is safe.”

Tekani clutched at his tunic again, no doubt touching a disc similar to the one Marek had given Nelek, “buying” her from the first priest. She wondered what the stinking garum merchant had to hide.

“Good. That is good. I wouldn’t sleep easy knowing that such a precious family heirloom—”

“I need a favor,” Marek cut into his fast speech. “Well, to be more exact, it’s an imperial favor.”

Tekani swallowed. His lips moved and he mouthed the word “imperial”. He pulled in a deep breath. “I am nothing if not a good and loyal subject to his Imperial Majesty.”

Marek presented him with another thin smile and Ash knotted her hands in her lap. She wanted to touch him, trace the perfection of his jaw, his chin. She ached for him, even in a cramped office thick with the stench of fish gut oil. Her life was insane. She was insane.

“I know you’re loyal, Tekani. Which is why I came to you.” He linked his fingers. “I am guardian to a certain treasure that the crown prince wishes to…inspect.”

Tekani’s pale eyes darted to her and a flush burned under his cheeks. He nodded, something quick, nervous. “Inspect, yes.”

“Now this treasure is unusual and the crown prince would prefer if it wasn’t widely known that he found it of interest.”

And Tekani was openly staring at her. What the hell did he think she was? He recovered, his fingers pressing against his chin, and he sank back into his padded chair. The light from the oil lamp played over his fleshy jowls. “My next delivery is due in eight days—”

“And you think the crown prince will wait over a week?” Marek’s fingers skimmed her thigh and she bit down a gasp at the sudden contact. He drew a lazy pattern against the smooth fabric of her breeches, his gaze sliding up her body. Ash controlled her breathing and her fingers curled into bloodless fists. She had no idea what his plan was, but damn it, he couldn’t play with her this way. His gaze gripped her. His power, his strength burned in the darkness of his eyes. “I know what she is.” The promise in his voice sank heat low into her flesh. “And I would want her now.”

She moaned, a soft, throaty sound that tightened Marek’s fingers against her thigh. She wanted him, wanted to push him back in the chair and ride him, uncaring that the fat merchant would see. Marek was hers and she would take him.

A half-strangled cough broke through her heated thoughts and she glared at Tekani. He shrank back into his chair, his face flushed, his eyes round…and scared. She blinked. He was scared of her?

“You see?” Marek eased his hold on her leg, but his fingers stayed there, continuing the easy stroke that ran a hot thrum though her flesh. “Do you think he’ll reward you for keeping her from him?”

Tekani sucked in a quick breath. “I can bring the delivery forward.”

“Do that.”

The merchant jerked back his chair and stood. He ran his fingers over the large expanse of his belly, smoothing over the wrinkles in the silk. “I will load what I have onto our fastest wagon.”

Ash watched him walk around the wide desk, his gaze darting over Marek and herself, nervous spots of red straining his cheeks. He pulled the door open and the stink of the open barrels of fish guts burst fresh into the small room. Ash bit at her lip, trying not to breathe until the door closed again. Hinges grated…and they were alone.

Marek’s hand gripped her leg and a gasp escaped her. She stared at him. The hunger in his eyes ramped her heartbeat. What had he just seen in her that forced his reaction? “You want this here? Now?” He stood and tugged her out of her chair, pressing her backside against the wide desk. His fingers fisted her tunic and pulled it over her hip. “Want me to fuck you and make you come?”

Her heart pounded. Was this another of his games, where he’d touch her, tease her and then pull back when her body screamed for him? “Don’t play with me, Marek.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” He slipped warm fingers into the band of her breeches and squeezed her ass. “For me to take you?” He pulled at the thick material, exposing her. Ash sucked in a quick breath. “Take you as he did.”

The insane idea that he was jealous seared into her thoughts with the bitter turn of his words. “Why now?” She pulled her gaze from his to stare at the closed door. “Tekani could come in at any moment.”

Marek pointed a finger back over his shoulder and a streak of fizzling light arrowed towards the door. It caught in the keyhole and the heavy thunk of the lock made her jump. “Now he can’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

His warm, strong fingers stroked over her bared thighs and his thumbs teased the creases of her legs. The simple touch shot heat into her belly and she bit back a moan. “You ask too many questions.”

She pulled in a tight breath, trying—and failing—to ignore the light brush of his thumb over her skin. “Don’t you think I should?” He moved closer and her heart thudded. Ash pushed down the sharp need to take his mouth, lose herself in his taste, his touch. Something about his sudden acceptance, his mutual desire, didn’t sit right with her. “You’ve fought this. Denied it.”

A thin smile pulled at his mouth and the power in him caught her, stopped her breath. “Now I’m not.”

“Marek…”

His dark gaze pinned her. “We can talk…or I can bring you to ecstasy.” The heat in his eyes, the desire that made his gaze almost molten, dried her mouth. “I shared you with him and now you’re bound to him.” Marek’s fingers tightened against her thighs, simply a brief reaction before his smile deepened, became wicked. “Yet I still have you half-naked and aching for me.”

You’re my primary. The words burned in her parched mouth, but she couldn’t say them. Marek didn’t want to speak the words into her flesh, the way that Lucas had. A part of her shrank back from that loss. Yet she could have him. He was offering what he could of himself. She tilted her head. “Then make me come.”

He touched her jaw, a light, teasing path over her skin. His thumb pressed against her bottom lip and his mouth dipped close to hers. “Come with my name, Ash,” he murmured. “Think of me.”

His other hand drew shallow patterns against her mound, the slip of his fingers over her wet flesh bringing torment as his light touch drove heat into her belly. The wood of the desk warmed against her backside and she shifted against it, too aware of Marek watching her. His eyes pinned her and his breath warmed her lips. She remembered his taste, ached for it. “Why are you waiting?”

“I want to savor you.” His lips brushed hers, the ghost of a touch, and Ash pulled in a breath, her mouth parting under him. “I don’t know what will happen to us.”

Her heart tightened. She didn’t know who this stranger was who wore Marek’s face. Something else pushed through her flesh, stronger, more dangerous than lust, and her hand trembled as she let her fingertips touch his cheek. She couldn’t, wouldn’t put a name to it because their future was uncertain. Her tongue tasted the firmness of his bottom lip and he sucked in a quick breath. “I know what’s about to happen.”

His mouth curved against hers. “True.”

The taste of his lips, his tongue, the heat of his mouth, flowed over her. She wanted him. He was her primary, a man who had tormented her for days. Caught in a dream with him had been wild and incredible. But she wanted this, the reality of his skin against hers. She gripped his arm, her fingers making little impression on the hard muscle beneath his thin tunic sleeve, and tugged him closer. He eased between her thighs and she pushed at her breeches, kicking them free of her legs. They landed in a puddle of cloth on the wooden floor. Yes, the thrum of her blood would not be denied.

“Eager, Ash?”

“You need to savor me faster.”

His laughter brushed against her cheek. “How do you want me to do that?”

“You decide. You’re my primary—”

“Ash…” He growled her name, low, and it shot heat through her body. Her fingers tightened against his arm. “I told you. We can never have that bond, never be deomos. It isn’t possible.”

She hooked her bare legs around him, teasing the length of his covered erection over her pussy. She found his mouth again and for several hard heartbeats she lost herself in his taste, his heat. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she deepened the kiss before pulling back. “Pretend,” she murmured against his lips, her breath short, her body aching with the need to do so much more than simply kiss him. “Pretend that’s who you are to me. Just this once.”

Marek closed his eyes, the tightened corners showing his reluctance. In that moment, she could almost feel his thoughts, feel the push of them. Guilt touched her again. The feeling that it wasn’t right, mixed with anger and other darker emotions, which burst at her in dark, confused fragments. He opened his eyes and the rush of emotion stopped. Dead. He’d regained control and his gaze gripped her, the power of what he was—son of a powerful custodian mother, son of a dark soul father—gleamed there. It stopped her breath and the tight curl of need pushed her hard against him.

“Say yes, Marek.”

His mouth thinned and her heart turned over. “A primary decides how to act. He cannot be told.”

The first flicker of her release took her then, bursting unexpected warmth in a quick wave of hot magic through her flesh. She gasped, and found his mouth covering hers. His hand pushed between them, his fingers finding her flesh, touching, slipping, rubbing…and then the blunt head of his cock pressed against her folds.

Her heartbeat soared and she moaned into his mouth, her fingers fisting in his hair. He teased her, stoking his cock over her pussy, his hand on her ass, holding her to him. Ash mewled at the thin resistance of her virginity breaking and the first push of him into her body. His hand gripped her thigh and his mouth broke from hers. Their foreheads touched and Marek’s low, soft groan ran fire through her blood.

“You belong to me.”

Her body, tight, untested, resisted him and her fingers dug into his arm to deflect the brief flare of pain.

“Say it.”

“I…” His hands tightened on her ass and her thigh, then he pulled back and pushed forward, stretching her, easing himself into her body. She closed her eyes, pushing her hips forward. She knew the intense joy they could share and she wanted it, wanted him. “I…belong to you.”

His sudden thrust made her cry out and he buried himself deep inside her, the aching fullness familiar and yet strange. Marek pulled a kiss from her mouth, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. Fire sparked in his eyes. “Lean back.”

She obeyed, scrolls cracking under her palms. Her fingers curled against the cold wood as the change in angle rushed heat through her blood. Marek ran his hands over her thighs, murmured words she knew…or she thought she knew. Sibilant, curling sounds moved with the pattern of his fingertips against her skin as the promised words of their binding flowed from him. She could almost imagine the glow of his magic sinking into her flesh, tying her to him, and the twist of her hips elicited a soft groan.

“I will make you mine for as long as I desire it.”

He leaned forward and placed his palms flat on the table. Ash tightened her thighs against him, drawing him deeper, and she flexed her muscles around his cock. She grinned at his curse. “How long will that be?”

He glared at her, fury and need burning through him. Her heart thudded. The rush of pride that Lucas felt, the honor of having Marek as their primary gripped her, because his strength, his power was almost incandescent. His mouth thinned. “Questions, Ash?” He robbed her of her smart reply with a thrust of his hips. “I don’t think so.”

The low, lyrical binding words wove around her now, almost forming the strings of light from her dream, glinting in the soft light of the clay lamp. And Marek watched her as he spoke, as he stroked into her, his voice thickening but never stopping in the soft run of sound.

Ash met every stroke, her calves pressing hard against his backside, urging him faster, harder, the delicious push of him into her willing flesh flicking liquid fire under her skin. The pressure low in her belly increased and she pulled her gaze from his, to watch the slide of his cock… Her breath shortened and she clenched around him, she couldn’t help herself. Watching him fuck her, feeling the hot, hard stroke of him, feeling his body as it mixed with the curl of ancient words within her flesh, tightened her fingers into fists against the wooden tabletop.

“Look at me.”

The command snapped her head up and Marek took her mouth. Yet still the words flowed around her, growing stronger with the turn of magic, slipping under her tunic to caress her skin, threading over breasts, her shoulders, easing down over her spine. Heat chased the words. She arched into him, groaning at the brush of his bared hips against her inner thighs.

The strokes increased and the press of his flow of binding words burned against her skin, hot, wanted. Right. He was her primary and he would mark her as such, chasing magic under her skin, forcing the binding words into her open flesh. Then she would be his. She’d belong to both men and that thought deepened the throb low in her belly.

“Ash…” He groaned her name against her lips. “It’s not real.”

She took his mouth again, her lips, tongue eager for him. She would prove how real it was, prove it in her own flesh. He couldn’t deny her now. “And after this, when we find Lucas…” The image from her dream burst over her, of the three of them naked, of both men taking her, driving her release through her. Her heart hammered, her body on fire with the need to have both of them. Marek’s fast breathing said he somehow shared the image in her head, she could almost feel the shape of it, the push of his reaction. His need. “And I beat out the words that will fix the bind. The words that finally unite us.” They burned on the tip of her tongue, strange, known but never spoken, never understood by her before. “As you both take me, both fuck me.”

Marek’s jaw clenched and fury mixed with his desire. He thrust into her, gripping her thighs, pinning her to him. “No.”

Ash glared at him, the woman with demon blood rising with the fire in her veins. Marek was rare. Her awakened instincts shouted it. It was enough that she had taken him as her primary for his power over her to fire in her blood. Rules were his—and so hers—to bend and break. “You’re mine. You’re both mine.”

Marek laughed. “Is that what you think?”

“I know.”

“No, all that you know is this.” He thrust deep and the sudden keen of the ancient words flared against her skin. He leaned forward, forcing her to dip under him until her spine lay flat against the desk. He loomed over her, his beautiful face thick with shadow and gold. “I plan to fuck you, but my command is not to make a sound. Even as you come, you must stay silent.” He paused and then he rolled his hips, the sensation rioting through her. “Understood?”

Her body thrummed with his order and her trembling hands caressed the taut strength of his arms. She shifted her hips, locking her legs over his ass. The change in position allowed him to stroke deeper into her willing flesh, each hard push of his hips stretching her, driving a wild heat through her veins. “You wanted me to say your name.”

He gave her a wicked grin. “I think this will be more fun.” And he kissed her, his tongue mirroring the deep thrusts of his cock before he broke his mouth from hers with a hard gasp. “Don’t you?”

Ash couldn’t answer and she bit at her bottom lip, her gaze fixed on him, watching the fiery magic that burned in his eyes. The need to speak surged, but she could almost feel the shape of his thoughts. Desire surged and the wicked smile cutting his mouth ran liquid heat through her flesh. The sure, slow push of his hips arched her spine against the desk and she clutched at the hard muscles of his arms.

She wanted everything about Marek. Deserved everything. He was her primary, whether he could admit it to himself or not. Ancient instincts bubbled under her flesh, demanding that he take her, that the keen of the ancient words flowing over her skin sink into her open soul as Lucas’ had. Their joining had healed him, strengthened his body after the fight with the custodians. She could feel it. Wasn’t that proof enough for Marek that they should be bonded? He would bind himself to her and the mixing of their magic would enhance them…

The strange thoughts spiraled through her mind, wrapping around the building heat, the raw twist of magic rising up from her belly. She met every hard thrust. Her thighs tightened against her hips and her ankles locked against his ass. Ash ached to kiss him again, to lose herself in his delicious heat and taste, but in that moment, she wanted his gaze on her. To see the burning need in his eyes, to know that she sparked that fire within him. Marek watched her and she reveled in it.

“You want me?” His mouth twitched, something wicked and darkly amused…but there was something else and she could almost feel it churning under his thoughts. She needed to grab it and it ached that she couldn’t. She blinked and the heat in his gaze wiped away all other thought. His twitch of a smile deepened. “Going to tell me how much?”

She mirrored his smile then pressed her lips together.

“Good girl.”

Her mouth thinned, but his sudden thrust made her gasp. His head dipped to hers, their foreheads touching. The gesture, somehow more intimate than the fact that he was buried hard and hot inside her, squeezed her heart. The flow of the ancient words deepened, running like warm honey over her skin. “For now, for this moment, I have you. You’re mine.”

The first flicker of her release warmed her flesh and she pushed against him, wanting more, wanting him harder and faster, fucking her until she screamed his name. Damn his orders. The heat of the other woman she was, the one just awakened to her demon blood and magic, wanted more. She jerked him forward with her ankles and his gaze narrowed.

“Who’s the primary here, Ash?” His low growl burst another quick surge of fire and joy under her skin and it made her greedy for more. He pushed deep, his lips skimming hers in sweet temptation. “I have you.”

She felt the heavy press of unsaid words, but he didn’t give her time to think as his strokes, deep and hard into her body, increased. His breath warmed her mouth, the rush of the ancient words thickening against her, pushing as hard as he did. Little pants escaped her and she caught her fingers in his hair, desperate to close the short distance and take his mouth.

The desk creaked under them from Marek’s strength, the rhythmic pounding into her body. She grabbed at his tunic, her fingers fisting the leather. She wanted his skin, the feel of it hot and smooth under her touch. He was right for her. So right. Everything about her, about Lucas and Marek, simply slotted into place, into perfection. Into deomos.

The surge of ancient words rushed against her skin and pushed down, pushed deep. Ash arched against the delicious invasion. The ache low in her belly throbbed and she could almost, almost feel the sweet taste of her release bound with the fierce rush of her magic.

With another thrust, she came and Marek caught her cry with his mouth, his deep, wild kiss driving the blistering flare of light and heat that wrapped around her flesh and forcing a ferocious joy through her body. She crushed her eyes against the dance of bright light, clinging to Marek, desperate for him to join her, to openly seal their bond. And the promise of it taunted her, there, in his final few erratic thrusts—

The crash of the door jerked Marek away and Ash bit back a scream.

“Marek Savada.” A man dressed in the leather and buckled tunic of a custodian stood in the open doorway. Behind him in the heavy gold of the afternoon sun stood other men, dog reins wrapped tight around their fists. In the shadows, beasts snarled and yapped. The man’s gaze drifted over their half-nakedness and a hard smile quirked his mouth. “Yes, you’re exactly where we thought to find you.”

Chapter Eleven

Ash tugged at her tunic, desperate to hide her nakedness from the smirking men. Marek stilled her hands and eased the fabric over her hips. The song, the binding words had died unfulfilled. His gaze held her and she tried to find courage in the strength and power she found in him. She pulled in a tight breath and watched him ease back from her. He belted his trousers, his body blocking her lower half from the view of the men in the doorway.

“When did you get put in charge of Zorion’s pets, Kanda?” Marek glanced at him over his shoulder as he helped her pull the long tunic down to her knees. “It’s a drop for you.”

Kanda laughed, something dry, hard. Ash looked up at him as she picked up her breeches and struggled into them. Marek’s large hands steadied her, but he kept his attention fixed on the intruders.

“Lord Zorion has offered an invitation to the palace for you and your whore.”

Marek stiffened and his hands clenched into fists. The hot metal stink of his magic shrouded his hands, flickers of blue-white light sparking from between his fingers. Ash touched his arm to calm him. They couldn’t escape. Marek could take on the men, but the dogs were impervious to his magic.

She pressed herself against him. The fizz of magic burned against her thigh and her lips touched his ear. He shivered. Her fingers involuntarily tightened around the hard muscle of his arm. The insanity of wanting him hadn’t faded. “They’re taking us to where we want to be.”

Marek let out a slow sigh and the burn of his magic flickered and died back. He gave a quick nod. He tilted her chin and his gaze gripped her. Emotion moved through the darkness of his eyes and she ached to feel the connection that should have surged between them. She’d taken him as her primary. With his rare power, he had chosen not to fulfill their promise. Maybe he was right. Maybe the unity she wanted simply wasn’t possible with him. He wasn’t a full-blood, not like Lucas.

A brief smile touched his mouth and his mind became a wall of granite. “I will save him for you.”

“Marek…”

“Don’t want to fight, Marek?” Kanda’s clipped voice cut through her words. “Only that Lord Zorion wants you alive, I’d burn you where you stand.”

Marek turned to him and his hand gripped hers. His fingers gave a reassuring squeeze. “No, you would try.” His head tilted. “And you would fail.”

“You have no more power than the rest of us.”

He straightened and Ash felt the rise of his strength. Pride thickened in her gut and she pushed down the quick pain that it wasn’t real, that the joy in her primary was simply a fantasy. That knowledge tempered her emotion. But still, she lifted her chin. Marek wasn’t like them. Not at all.

“My mother was a prime custodian.” He wet his lips. “And my father was a dark soul. How much power do you think that gives me, Kanda?” Behind Kanda, the men shuffled and tugged on the reins, forcing the dogs to growl and scrabble against the stone floor. Marek glanced over Kanda’s shoulder to the suddenly nervous handlers. Ash pressed her lips together, denying a smile. “Your men seem to think it means something.”

Kanda’s pale blue eyes narrowed and a tic started in his cheek. “I know what you are, Marek. Thankfully, Lord Zorion kept your stink from the citadel. He has power you could never hope to understand.” His hand slid under his tunic and pulled free a small pouch. “He was prepared for exactly what you are.” He held up his palm and deliberately teased back the fabric, exposing a small shard of black crystal.

Ice spiked under Ash’s skin and unexpected panic hit her. The dogs started to yowl, a strange, keening cry that forced her hair on end. But their noise didn’t block the ripple of sharp sound from the glittering crystal, sound that, like the words Lucas and Marek had spoken, pushed at her flesh, digging, stabbing beneath her skin.

“Ancient magic,” Kanda said. A smirk cut his mouth. “Your people’s magic. Dark souls were insane, they played with powers to which they had no right. Lord Zorion will end your race.”

Marek’s fingers tightened around hers and it spurred her to fight the pain slicing into her flesh. Here was her proof that she was a dark soul. She willed her head up and focused on Marek. His jaw clenched and his skin whitened under the strain of ignoring the rush of stabbing sound from the little crystal. And there was his proof. Marek was as much a demon as she was.

It gave her little comfort, little hope, couldn’t as the song of the stone bit into her skin and muscles. Her vision grayed and her legs wouldn’t hold her up. Her world tilted as Marek swung her up into his arms.

“Stay with me, Ash.”

But the hollow ring of his voice and the deepening shadows spun her thoughts. She hated that she was weak and fought to stay awake, to deny the hot pulse of pain in her body. She couldn’t. The ripple of sound pushed at her, overwhelmed her and the last sensation she felt, beyond the agonized whine of the dogs, was the warm press of Marek’s lips against her forehead. Then blackness took her.

* * * * *

Ash groaned, dug the heel of her hands into her eyes and pressed—hard. It didn’t stop the dull pounding in her skull. She had the quick, panicked thought that nothing would and it jerked her upright. The room was dim, a single oil lamp flickering high on a white marble wall. The air was cold and something twisted through it, something that made her wince as she tried to think what it could be. She dropped her slippered feet to the floor and rolled her neck. Where was she? Her gut knotted. Where was Marek?

“Ash!”

Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her, pulling her up, bringing with them warmth and strength and easing the ache in her skull. She let out a slow breath and rested her head against a strong shoulder. A familiar scent threaded through her clouded senses, the soothing mix of linen and male skin. Her heart twisted, her relief almost a physical pain in her chest. She closed her eyes and tears leaked onto her cheeks. “Lucas.”

He buried his face against her neck, his lips hot on her skin, and their connection, the heat of his thoughts rushed through hers, wiping away the remaining agony of the stone Kanda had used against her. Snatches of images, hot, seductive, delicious, fired under her skin. Lucas wanted to do so many decadent things, starting with eating her right there, right now.

She bit back her laughter and squeezed him tight. “Is that all you want me for?”

He grinned against her neck before he pulled himself away to look at her. The weak glow of the light pooled in his eyes and his beauty caught her breath. He was hers. He lifted a dark eyebrow. “There’s more to you?”

Her laughter broke free, she thumped him. And then he was kissing her, his fingers tangled in her hair, his mouth hot and ruthless. Her spine hit a cold marble wall and Lucas pressed into her, his erection firm against her belly. Their bond surged between them, the joy they found in each other, the relief, affection…love…intensified every touch, every soft, aching moan.

She wanted him, wanted him stripping her, licking her, readying her body and then fucking her hard and fast. Her blood pounded. Her need for Lucas burned through her, the throb low in her belly forcing her to grind her pelvis against him in search of relief, in search of uniting to find the pleasure of magic.

Lucas groaned, found her hands and pinned them to the wall. The desire, the need in his gaze fueled her own. “I want that. Want you naked and me buried in your ass.”

“Now is not the time or the place.”

Marek’s clipped words broke through her rise of lust and Ash closed her eyes. He was their primary…and she obeyed him. They both did. Lucas exhaled in a quick burst of obvious frustration, but his hands eased down from hers in a slow, lingering slide. Ash quivered at this touch and met his gaze. Humor sparked there and the ripple of affection made her smile.

She cupped his jaw, her thumb wiping away the moisture from his lips. He was alive, but none of them knew for how long. He knew how she felt—they could keep nothing hidden from each other—but she needed to say the words outside of her own head. It would make them real, lasting. “Whatever happens,” she rose onto her toes and placed a soft, gentle kiss on his mouth, “know that I love you.”

Pain unexpectedly twisted her gut, sharp, quick, and then it was gone as if it had never happened. Lucas folded his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her hair and she began to doubt the sudden rush of agony. She felt his smile. “And I love you.” His smile deepened. “Even if you smell like fish guts.”

Ash grinned. “Marek and I were having too much fun to notice.”

“Really?” Lucas tilted her chin to make him look at her. Heat burned and the rise of the demon in his blood caught her breath. It tugged at her every time. She couldn’t deny it. “Show me.”

“I said enough.” Marek’s boots echoed over the stone floor and his hand fell on Lucas’ shoulder. His fingers squeezed. “We have more important things to think about than how you can fuck her.”

“I’m holding you to that promise to show me.” Lucas released her, his hands stoking over her waist, her hips before he pulled free. He took a step back. “Happy, Marek?”

Their primary’s face was a mask of stone, the touches of golden light carving his face. His dark eyes glittered, but his mind was as closed to her as the marble walls. “We’re in the lower palace from the feel of stone.” His gaze narrowed on the wall behind her. “I can feel the press of earth and rock beyond it.” His mouth thinned. “And something else.”

Ash frowned. Was that something else the sour twist weaving through the air? She could feel it again now that Lucas wasn’t touching her. It was still…strange…to know that she was like these men, that magic curled and twisted through her veins. Magic accompanied her need to get them naked as often as possible. Sex and magic seemed to be the same thing for a dark soul. “The air tastes rank.”

“They’re suppressing the ancient magic.” Marek gave a soft laugh. “Kanda was right about one thing. Dark souls know how to fuck with their own kind.”

Lucas ran his fingers through his hair and the light touch of his suppressed unease prickled her skin. “The matriarchs, the queens, take a perverse pleasure in it.” Images flickered briefly in Ash’s thoughts, of an ice-crusted cavern and a beautiful woman stretched out before a hearth…but then with a quick smile at her, Lucas thickened his obscuring thoughts and the images faded. “My past, Ash. I’m not ready to share it… not yet.”

She willed herself not to think on the woman who had caused him to be bound to a golden statue for four centuries. That wasn’t a pressing problem. Being trapped in an underground doorless room was. “What are we going to do?”

Marek glanced up to the domed ceiling. “There’s nothing we can do. This place is ancient.”

Ash followed his gaze, staring up. In the gloom and shadows of the great curve she caught twists of writing. It shifted, moved as it had on the parchment spread out over Marek’s bed. Names formed and she recognized some of the families that Marek’s forbidden document had listed. “Ancient,” she murmured. “Dark soul ancient.”

Lucas dropped to the wide lip of the bench curving out of the marble wall. “And you didn’t know this was here?”

“The palace is heavily guarded and the emperor lets few in. There are rumors. But I was paid to look after treasure, not put my life at risk for curiosity.” Marek paced the floor, his fingertips reaching out to skim the veined walls. He stopped and sketched a wide arch against the stone. “This used to be open.” He looked around the long room. “A tunnel, maybe?”

“The Dardanas have,” Lucas frowned, “had…a fondness for monumental architecture.” He sat back against the marble wall. “I don’t know what’s left of my city now. But it was like Bukhara. Temples to the ancestors, vast basilicas, aqueducts, arenas and theaters.”

“It could be any one of those, buried under the palace millennia ago.” Marek rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Zorion wants us for some reason. Has kept us alive.”

Ash knew it wouldn’t be good. She sat next to Lucas and his arm came around her, the warm strength protecting her from the icy cold of the wall. Marek watched her, his dark eyes unreadable. Familiar heat burned under her skin. Her newly awakened instincts demanded that they complete their physical union and achieve deomos. Her thoughts would circle with her desire until that point. A small smile pulled at her lips. And if they got out of this insanity with their lives, she doubted that she would stop wanting either man.

Lucas’ arm slid down her back and he traced the crease of her thigh with slow fingers. Heat slashed across Marek’s cheeks and a pulse jumped at his temple. She could feel the almost physical press of his need against her skin and it set the low ache in her belly throbbing.

“It’s almost palpable. The need you have for each other.” A stranger’s voice broke into her growing desire.

Lucas pulled her tight to him and Mark jerked forward, standing in front of Lucas and herself, blocking her from the stranger. The arch Marek had traced had opened up, stretching back into a wide tunnel.

Custodians with torches and flanked by men with the magic-bred dogs stood behind the stranger. Ash craned her neck for a look at the man. He was tall, dressed in a custodian’s tunic, and had once held a sharp beauty. It was there in his aging face. His hair, cut short in the imperial style, was streaked with white. Dark eyes fixed on her and she felt their chill down to her toes. He seemed…familiar, as if his name burned on the tip of her tongue.

“You have us here, Zorion. What now?”

Zorion. The man who had fathered her on some poor slave and handed her over to the priests of Fausta. Her gut twisted, but she didn’t know what she felt.

“I have read the marker and it brought me here.” He held a long, clear crystal in a tight first, the light sparking in its depths. It called to Ash, a living pulse under her skin. Was that the crystal map?

Zorion glanced around the dim marble room. He fixed his attention back onto them and it forced a shiver through Ash. Lucas’ hand tightened against her hip. “I’ve planned for this moment longer than you’ve been alive.” His gaze shifted to Lucas. “Any of you.”

“Gloating later, perhaps?” Marek tilted his head. “What does the marker show?”

“All right.” Zorion’s shoulders lifted and he smoothed down the front of his leather tunic. “We can move to the end.” A dark smile touched his lips, cold, lethal. “In return for power, I offer up a deomos.”

“Offer up?” Lucas barked the question and something shifted through his thoughts. Ash tried to hold onto it, but the shock—and the terror—made it impossible. “That has always been forbidden.”

“By those too afraid to hold real power.”

Marek glanced back at them. “Sacrifice?”

The word stopped Ash’s heart. Zorion, her father, planned to kill them? No, it was more, Lucas’ terror offering something more shocking than simple death. She pushed herself to her feet and took strength from Lucas’ hand finding hers. She couldn’t lose either of them. She wouldn’t. Ash pulled in a breath and committed herself. “Let them go. The beast wants me.”

Emotion hit her, hard and swift, a wild mix of Marek and Lucas and she almost staggered under the sudden impact. Lucas’ hands gripped her wrist like iron bands and Marek glared at her, fury eddying in the darkness of his eyes.

“No.” They said the word in unison.

Zorion’s laughter cut through her and she held down the ripple of a shiver. “I should take her offer. Watch—what do you call it?—the beast devour her.”

Marek blocked her with his body and Lucas tugged her hard against him. Fear and anger vibrated through both men and Marek’s terse “Try” prickled her skin and her birthmark burned.

Ash pulled in her courage and met Zorion’s cold glare over Marek’s shoulder. “If that’s what it takes for them to go free.”

“Ash, shut up.” Marek’s words were little more than a hiss.

Zorion lifted his hand and the men behind him took a step forward. The dogs snapped, straining against their leashes. “It’s an interesting proposition. Your primary and secondary get to watch you die. Torn apart.”

The air stank with the sudden stench of hot metal. Marek’s fists writhed white with magic. “Whatever’s pulsing through the air only affects ancient magic.” He raised his fists and bristling white light twisted over his wrists and forearms. “Not my other magic.”

Zorion smirked and his own magic burst over his fingers, wreathing in and out, catching on his knuckles. “It would be…enjoyable…to take you down.” He snorted. “The honorable but lowly Marek Savada.” He painted the air with light, drawing shapes that itched at Ash’s memory. Ancient, demonic words, a name perhaps? She couldn’t be certain. “I remove the primary and then what? Your whore and your secondary are defenseless. Sport and food for my men and dogs.”

“What do you want, Zorion?” Anger edged Lucas’ voice. “As Marek said, gloat later.”

“The magic of the deomos is at its strongest when you’re naked and fucking.” His forehead wrinkled further. “Thankfully that side of my blood I’ve been able to ignore.” Distaste crawled through his voice. “Taking a slave to produce,” his hand waved at her, “someone like her, was enough.” He shook his head. “So much of your power wasted on your obsession with sex.”

“So you want us to perform?” The cold burn to Marek’s voice sank into her belly and Lucas’ hands tightened their grip. She took comfort from him. “And whatever the marker has uncovered wants that surge of magic.” He paused. “And if we say no?”

“If you don’t? Then I take your precious Ash and let my men play with her before the dogs shred her. She’s dead. Your deomos is broken. But I’ll soon find another woman of my blood to whore for you. Nelek as my First Priest of Fausta will see to that.”

Ash closed her eyes, denying the hot streak of fear wrapping tight and low in her belly. This man had fathered her, but she was just a tool in his search for power.

Marek pulled in a slow breath. “But if we agree, the beast consumes us.”

Zorion shrugged. His calculating smile only deepened the terror twisting her insides. She bit at her lip, for a moment wishing she were a ward back in the temple. An abandoned baby that Rani had found. Not this. Not the daughter of a man twisted in the pursuit of power. But that wish was futile.

“Watch her die or die together.” Zorion’s head tilted. “Your choice, gentlemen.”

Chapter Twelve

“Then that’s a simple choice.” Marek straightened. “Together.”

Zorion’s mouth thinned and disgust flickered across his sagging face. “Just for sex.”

Lucas laughed, something sour and lined with derision. “Your blood is corrupted, Zorion, if you can’t appreciate the joy—”

“Spare me the details of your joy,” Zorion muttered. “Your joy is useful. Your joy will kill you.”

This was wrong. So wrong. They couldn’t die with her. They couldn’t. Her heart pounded and a sudden sweat stuck her tunic to her spine. Marek and Lucas were hers and she belonged to them. She would do anything for them…

Marek’s hand found hers and his fierce grip broke through the fast rise of panic. She knew he gave Zorion a hard smile when he said, “Then we’ll die happy.”

Lucas’ lips touched the shell of her ear. “Our last breath is yours.”

She bit at her lip—hard—to deny the tightness of her throat and the sudden hot run of tears. This was not fair.

“No it’s not.” Lucas’ soft whisper threaded through her. “But we won’t be parted from you, Ash.”

Marek squeezed her fingers, his tacit agreement with Lucas’ statement. “Well, Zorion?”

He stepped to one side and the men and dogs stood aside in the dark tunnel. The crystal in his hand thrummed and grew…insubstantial. Its use was ending. Her heart tightened, fear thick in her belly. Zorion followed her gaze, a smile cutting his mouth. “And with your agreement, so it ends…and begins.” He opened his fingers and the crystal map fell, dissolving into a flicker of light before it hit the earth. “The walls so far beneath the palace are fluid. A gift from the power that resides here. Follow it to its end.”

Ash tugged free of Lucas’ tight hold, though Marek refused to release her hand, his fingers biting into her wrist. But she had to question Zorion. If they were to die, she wasn’t going to do it in ignorance. “You knew this was down here. Why go through the act at the temple, of trying to implicate Marek?”

“I’ve fostered the hatred his fellow custodians have for him. Needed their aid to track him, watch him since his birth.” Zorion frowned. “And you. You have no idea what your blood protected.” His attention turned inward. “It’s sung in my veins for centuries, more pure, more satisfying and with more power than anything you could hope to have.” The gleam in his eyes held her and she couldn’t look away. “The marker wasn’t just a crystal map, it was a key. As are you, Ashsara Nerah, with the blood of the Kairas in your veins and the stain of emperors on your spine. Proof that you came from me.”

She blinked and whatever hold he had on her vanished. “We’ll give this beast of yours indigestion.”

“No, you will give it the feast it craves.” He stepped back and pointed to the dark tunnel. “Time to move.”

Marek strode forward, tugging Ash after him. Lucas followed, his hand at her spine, touching her birthmark through the thin fabric of her tunic. Her heart pounded. This was not happening. Marek had to have a plan. He always seemed to have a plan. They hadn’t truly bonded. Would that mean that the final binding would fail, that the beast would stay trapped? Or did Marek’s power change that and the deomos would succeed and the beast would escape to bring power to Zorion? Either way, death awaited them.

Ash pushed down the rise of fear. She had faith in her goddess. Maybe luck would fall to her when she most needed it. She tried not to dwell how fickle her goddess could be.

Dogs growled, straining their leashes, eager to get to the dark soul flesh striding past them. Ash focused on Marek’s broad back, the familiar shape of his shoulders, but even that was disappearing into the thickening shadows.

A slow, liquid roar filled the air and Ash’s head snapped back. She stared. The tunnel walls…folded…behind them in a roll of shifting earth and stone, chasing them into the dark.

“How are we getting out of this, Marek?” Ash had to shout above the roil of the moving walls. Her question was met with silence. Even Lucas said nothing. Ash closed her eyes, or at least she thought she did. Her shut lids and the pitch black of the tunnel were the same now. The heavy odor of damp earth, stone and whatever threaded through the ground giving it that distinctive stench and taking away the power of the dark souls, filled her lungs. She held onto it. It meant she was still alive. “Marek?”

Blue-white light bristled and sparked in the air. Marek lifted his fist and lit the wide tunnel with his magic. A single strand of light splintered away and arced into the wall. The magic spidered over the curve of earth, flickering, weakening until it vanished. “Even my custodian magic doesn’t work down here now. Whatever this thing is, it’s like no magic ever made.”

“And that means…?”

“No, I don’t have a plan.” His words quiet, calm somehow, cut through the din of the rolling walls. It was the touch of his thoughts over hers, pressing as she had touched Lucas in his hidden rooms an age ago.

Fear sank in a hot lump into her belly and she fought to keep her sudden riot of panic contained. Her teeth bit at the inside of her cheek. It would help no one if she screamed and bolted. They were together. She had to take her final comfort from that fact.

The darkness lightened and the tunnel ended. Marek stopped at the open mouth to a great cavern. The air shimmered, an oily film spanning the archway. Beyond golden light glistened. Ash’s heart thudded and Lucas covered her hand, his strong fingers threading through hers. She pressed her lips together. She could still taste him on her lips, her tongue. Ash pulled in a steadying breath. “What now?”

Marek skimmed his fingers over the film, not touching, but the substance rippled in his wake. “It has the feel of ancient magic.” He frowned and tilted his head. “But it feels like something that shouldn’t exist.”

“It’s a dream barrier. I thought they were a myth.” Lucas winced and what that was flickered through his thoughts, but too fast for Ash to catch. “The amount of power expended to make such a thing corporeal.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “This is not good.”

Marek shrugged. “We knew that.” He flexed his fingers around her hand. “For a moment, you’re going to feel like you’re falling sleep, Ash.” His dark gaze gripped her and her heart squeezed. He blocked his thoughts. The walls of his mind were as obscured as if she could never touch, never feel them within him. It hurt and she hated that he denied their connection. His eyes narrowed. “We’re with you. Remember that.”

Ash nodded. What else could she do? They headed to their deaths. Lucas squeezed her fingers and stood at her left side, Marek her right. “We all do this together?”

Lucas smirked at her. “It’s the nature of the deomos.”

A wry smile lifted her mouth. “Yes, it is.”

“Ready?” Marek’s voice cut through her, hard, strong. “Now.”

As one they stepped forward into the barrier and heat sank over her in a molten slide. She felt the tight grip of both men’s hands, but with it came a heaviness, a desire to sink down and let her eyes close, let sleep take her.

But panic hit her, her heart racing, sudden heat and sweat gluing her tunic to her belly, her spine. Was this it? Was this their promised death with the beast waiting for them on the other side? Had Zorion lied and the truth was the beast would hold them, feed on them for an eternity—

“Don’t fight it.” Lucas’ familiar voice moved though her mind. “Let yourself fall.”

She trusted him and willed her heart to slow. Her lungs ached from lack of air, light dancing in front of her eyes in fractured golds and blues. Lucas had said she could fall. Ash closed her eyes…and she let the heavy heat press into her flesh, taking her body, her mind into another place.

* * * * *

“Ash?”

Marek’s palm brushed her jaw, his fingers stroking over her cheek, and his touch brought with it the feelings of want, of his need for her. A smile curved her lips and she let the golden warmth of the sun and him caress her skin for a few moments more. Too soon, he would want to start the day.

She blinked. It wasn’t a rush-filled mattress under her spine but the give of sand. She squinted up into a too bright and cloudless blue sky, the air heavy with heat and sharp light. The taste of gritty sand coated her tongue and she grimaced.

“You’re awake.” Marek removed his hand and she held down a regretful sigh. He gripped her arm and pulled her up. “I thought you planned to sleep all day.”

Ash ran her hand over her hair, dislodging white sand in a fine mist. It itched under her clothes and she twisted against it. “Where are we? Is this real? Where’s…” She turned and found Lucas behind her and the first rush of fear eased away. The ache to pull him to her, wrap his strength around her and find comfort in their bond tugged at her. But she couldn’t. She wanted to delay her desire for as long as she could. The beast wouldn’t take them until they had sex.

She looked away and beyond him to the decayed stone tiers stretching up from the sandy floor. Ash turned on her heel, following the curve of crumbling granite as it swept around them. All was strangely silent, the air still. Nothing moved and fear pricked her skin. It looked somehow familiar…

A fist tightened in her gut. The arena. The place where she’d met whatever the hell it was that the marker contained. Her hand pressed to her throat, her mouth. She couldn’t feel it. There was only the heat slicking her skin and the itch of sand. “Have you seen it yet?”

“No, only them.” Lucas pointed up to the first of many gray stone pillars ringing the edge of the floor of the arena. On the flat tops of the columns stood robed figures, black cowls hanging down over their faces, obscuring them. “They’ve not moved. Just stood silent…and sweating.”

Ash rolled her eyes at him. “And they’re human?”

Marek shook his head. “Nothing purely human could come through that barrier. This place is real. We’re not asleep this time. And only someone with ancient magic in their blood can stand here.”

“Like us.” Ash rubbed more sand from her hair. Damn, the stuff was everywhere. “Aren’t we lucky.” She squinted into the distance, the heat haze rising off the floor to blur the stone, eddies of sand rising and twisting. “So we just wait?” She frowned. The air was still, dead. What was lifting the sand?

Marek took her hand and urged her behind him, Lucas standing at her back. The turning ribbons of sand skittered across the arena, merging, splitting, and the cut of them through the air hissed and spat. Ash lifted her shoulders. Was this it? The beast meant to devour them regardless. Fear cramped her belly, but she ignored it, willed it from her thoughts, her feelings…because hell, she knew that Lucas did the same. Marek—she resisted the need to let her forehead drop against his hard shoulder—was a wall of granite. Private. Unknown.

The small twists of spinning sand drew around them, circling where they stood. It formed strange shapes, almost combining into a body before dispersing into a vortex of sand. Words formed in the hiss, soft, sibilant and in a language long dead. They moved through the air, shifting as the sand did and forming shape sounds she recognized.

“Kairas blood, from the one who trapped me here eons ago.” The nearest funnel darted closer, scouring the floor to reveal a dark stone beneath, worn and pitted with age. It dipped towards Lucas. “Pure Dardanas, though from low, polluted stock, and you…” The curve of sand arched away, spinning long and thin, drawing almost level with Marek’s head. The whirling, open mouth of the funnel drifted over and almost looked at his face.

The vision of it held her and she stared into the shadow of its interior, expecting something…but there was only more twisting, hissing sand within. The thing recoiled and the smaller whips of sand thickened, spitting and whirring, the distaste almost palpable. “You are a mix of Dardanas and the new magic, a nasty twist, the taste of it like acid.”

“Thank you,” Marek said.

The swirls of sand and grit cut a path across the floor, clearing more of the dark, pitted stone beneath. “You’re bound together, though not completely. Not yet deomos. But you will be.” The hiss grated with a harder edge, one that rubbed against her like satisfaction. She shivered, disturbed by the unexpected push of lust under her skin. “I will regain my form and your final act of joining will release me.”

“And if we refuse?” Ash blurted out the question. She had to know which would be the quicker fate. Dying in their arms or struck down by the beast’s wrath.

Laughter echoed across the arena. “I am Caheus. The sprinkling of ancient power in your veins is nothing. You won’t want to refuse.”

The eddies and twists of sand skittered away, coalescing into a weaving funnel that whipped over the floor of the area. “Kairas bound me here. And her blood will set me free.” It broke apart beneath one of the gray columns and grains of sand wreathed around the stone, climbing up to the fist of the cowled, unmoving figures.

Ash closed her eyes, almost thankful that the brief surge of desire had faded in her flesh. Her release meant her—their—deaths. The more she delayed, the longer they continued to breathe. “What is going on?”

“That is your beast,” Marek said, his gaze fixed on the column. “And his breaking of his confinement has begun.”

“He’s sand…” Her voice trailed away as the sunlight caught the grains of floating sand and a shape shimmered on the wide top of the column. Hands, the straight length of a broad back, solid thighs… “A tail?”

“Older royalty have tails.” Lucas also fixed his attention on the column, his hand tight around hers and the heat in his blood pulsed through her own. It was strange, she could almost taste the desire in the air, the hard need to fuck and be fucked. Lucas pulled in a deep breath. “It’s him, Ash. Dark souls are sex and magic…the older souls, they charge the air with lust.”

Ash bit at the inside of her cheek, wanting to deny what Lucas said was true. But it was raw around her, hot against her skin, and she could only watch the glittering shape at the top of the tower. It ran the image of its hands over the hood figure and the material fell back, dropping to a puddle at the woman’s feet. She stood still and naked before the beast and Ash wanted to will herself to look away…but she couldn’t.

The taste of need, of hot desire filled her mouth and the throb of it down through her flesh made a mockery of her fear. She fixed her gaze on the woman on the column. Something about her was familiar and with a start, Ash realized she looked like her.

She opened her eyes and Ash sensed the curl of heat and lust growing within the other woman’s flesh. Whatever she was, she wasn’t human…in the way that Ash herself wasn’t human. Somehow, she felt the connection, as Lucas had known that Marek was Dardanas…she felt it in her blood.

“She’s Kairas…and she’s…me.” Ash mirrored the rise and fall of the woman’s chest, felt the fast flow of need and the burn of unseen hands on her flesh. Heat flooded her at the first lick of a hot tongue against her breast, the expert curl of it around her nipple.

Marek cursed and his body grew tense. “He’ll take every one.”

“Marek…?” She scrabbled for his hand, needing his touch to balance the surge of fire in her flesh. Ash couldn’t rip her gaze away from the column, from the woman—her—arching into the shape of glittering hands. The heaviness of them pressed against her own flesh and joined with the increasing press of the hot mouth tasting and teasing her breast. “What is Caheus doing?”

“He will bring pleasure to each woman.” Lucas’ words were tense. She glanced at him and his jaw tightened. “Gain flesh and bone with each release. And his lust…” He swallowed, heat cutting across his cheeks. “Will drive us together.”

“But it’s me…” Ash bit back a gasp at the ghostly hand gripping her ass. She crushed her eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the push of shadowed fingers. “How can she be me?”

She didn’t get her answer, didn’t hear it as Caheus’ hot mouth slid from her breast to lick his way down her stomach to the curve of her belly. Ash groaned, crushing Marek’s hand, fighting the fire in her veins. She would find her release at the beast’s command… No. Ash willed her eyes open and glared at Marek. The rise of ancient words beat with her blood, the soft keen of her binding song filling her thoughts and rising on the still air. “I can’t fight it, Marek. You can’t either.”

Desire darkened his gaze and he nodded to Lucas. He released her hand and stepped back. “Prepare her.”

Lucas closed his eyes and pulled her to him. His lips touched her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver through her skin that had nothing to do with Caheus and that monster’s clever fingers. “With my last breath, I love you.”

Ash fisted his tunic, the mix of pain and desire burning up through her chest. And then he was kissing her, deep, slow, as he drew up her tunic, his fingertips light on her skin. He eased her arms up, broke his mouth from hers and pulled the material free. His hands found her ass and he inched under the band of her breeches, pushing them down, exposing her.

Ash let her forehead fall against his chest, knowing that Marek watched, that the reveal of her skin brought him pleasure. She drew in Lucas’ familiar scent, leather and linen mixing with the warmth of male skin. Her pussy throbbed and the rise of binding words arced over her.

Lucas pushed the breeches down and knelt before her, his breath brushing her thigh. She stepped free of the last of her clothes and the final grains of sand sticking to her skin dropped away. Lucas smiled up at her, the wicked shine in his eyes bringing heat to her skin.

“Your gift from me. Sharing in what is mine, Lucas.”

Her gaze snapped to Marek and the need in him fisted her fingers in Lucas’ hair It would kill them all, this insane need, but she couldn’t deny it. “Thank you, primary.”

He looked beautiful, so powerful. He folded his arms across his chest and a nerve twitched at his temple, but his eyes trailed down over her nakedness. “Spread your legs a little for him.”

Lucas’ hands eased over her thighs, guiding her, his mouth so close to where she ached for him. He pressed a light kiss and then another on her mound and Ash fixed her attention on Marek. From the corner of her eye, the moving shine of Caheus was of little importance, not when Lucas’ thumbs stroked the sensitive inner curve of her thighs and Marek… Marek swallowed and heat slashed his cheeks.

Lucas dipped his tongue and found her sweet spot. She gasped, the sudden rush of heat spiraling up through her flesh with the flare of magic. Ash willed her eyes to stay open, wanted to see Marek watching her, seeing the pleasure that his secondary brought.

Lucas groaned, his fingers tightening against her thighs. “You taste…”

He pressed slow kisses to her folds, his tongue teasing her, licking her, spinning hot need, and light danced before her eyes. She swayed and strong arms caught her. Marek pressed to her back, his hands finding her breasts. His mouth moved against her ear.

“Shall we watch him, Ash?”

She glanced down with Marek, seeing her pale fingers caught in Lucas’ dark hair and his mouth on her pussy. The lap of his tongue, the sound of it, the feel of it, deepened the push of need and magic in her body.

Marek grinned against her ear, predatory, sharp, and she sucked in a quick breath. “I can feel your desire.” His thumbs rolled over her nipples, the sudden, fierce spark of his touch arching her into his hands. Lucas’ fingers regripped her thighs, his soft growl burning a shiver under her skin. “And when you scream his name into my mouth, he’ll find your ass with that clever tongue.”

She turned her face to him, eager to kiss him, to make him share in Lucas’ talented mouth on her flesh.

Marek bit at her lip and a wild cry filled the arena. A brief heat surged over her skin, forcing a shudder, and she knew the creation on the pillar had succumbed to Caheus, but it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted Marek and took his mouth, her binding song spiraling around them. He groaned and pressed himself against her back as his tongue fought with hers.

Lucas gripped her ass and buried his face between her thighs, his tongue hot and quick. The heat of their hands on her body scorched her flesh and the rush of ancient words twisted and tightened around them. The first of the magics. That knowledge burst over her. The final binding was never simple.

Her body teetered on the edge, the wild rush of need created by both men tearing over her. Her heart pounded, sweat slicking her skin in the burning sun, the scent of sex coalescing with the thrum of the words flowing from her skin in a swirling rush. Lucas’ desire pushed into her own and she reached out for Marek, wanting the touch of his need to carry her over.

Her tongue, teeth, lips clashed with his, desperate for the brief spark. And then for one glorious moment, his mind opened to hers. His ferocious need to kiss her, to eat her, to fuck her, burned in a bright fire, surging over her thoughts, her skin, holding her, taking her, as Lucas fucked her hard with his tongue.

The fierce sweep of her release flashed over her skin, her cry caught by Marek, his hands cupping her breasts, pulling her close to his chest. Ash broke away to pull in needed air and let her cheek drop against Marek’s. Magic ran raw through the air, turning, mixing with the soft keen of her binding song. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in his closeness. Lucas pressed his mouth to her mound, his breath ragged and hot, sending ripples of sensation through her sensitized skin.

“Thank you.” Lucas’ murmur squeezed her heart and she threaded her fingers through his hair, brushing the damp strands away from his temple. He looked up, looked beyond her to Marek, and the heat in his gaze flicked fresh need. A smirk curved Lucas’ perfect lips. “Primary.”

Marek’s hands eased back from her breasts to stroke over her waist. His lips touched her ear. “Turn around.” His raw whisper jumped a quick throb between her thighs.

She glanced up and caught Caheus pushing back the robe of another woman, another statue of magicked flesh that looked and felt like her. The harsh sun cut across his shape as he formed a shadowed stain against her body. His tail flicked and he caught her in his large hands, turned her and bent her over.

Ash’s heart caught in her throat, but Marek turned her and made her meet his gaze. The memory of his desire, so hot and bright, tightened her body and she gripped his arms.

“We’re of more interest than an old demon.” Marek pressed his thumb to her bottom lip and he focused there, the hunger in his gaze making her breath short. The ancient words thickened around them, skimming over her bare skin in hot whispers. “Ready, Lucas?” He asked the question with his lips brushing hers. She shivered at the glide of Lucas’ fingers over the back of her thighs.

Ash tilted forward and Marek let her as she offered her ass to Lucas. He ran his fingertips over her cheeks, dropping kisses over her thigh, her ass as he parted her. A long sigh brushed air over her damp skin. “Mine,” he murmured.

Marek tilted his head to glance over her shoulder and a wicked smile curved against her jaw. Something moved just beyond her senses—almost his silent order—and then the smooth stroke of Lucas’ strong fingers up her spine followed. “Soon it’ll be both of us.” He looked back to her and her heart tightened. His smile softened and his kiss teased her. “I wouldn’t change this, Ash. Even as it ends.”

Tears burned and she closed her eyes. Pain tightened her chest and Lucas paused in the slow caress of his fingertips down her spine. She pressed her lips together as Marek dropped a gentle kiss onto each eyelid. The third kiss touched her lips and she tasted salt.

“Ignore what I’ve said before. I’m your primary. Believe it.” She didn’t know whether she imagined his deepened breath, but her heart skittered. “I will always be yours.”

Ash took his mouth, pulling his head down, desperate to change the angle so that she could deepen her kiss. She wanted him, wanted them both. Marek was right. Their desire had brought them to this arena, would mean their deaths, but dark souls lived to form deomos, the perfect unity of flesh and magic.

She groaned at the hot slide of Lucas’ tongue down the cleft of her ass, his tongue-tip teasing her puckered hole. The throb in her belly grew and she arched her spine, wanting more of him. The first push of his tongue broke her mouth from Marek. She needed to breathe, to control the sudden heat filling her.

“No.” Marek’s sudden command shot her gaze to his, desire and fear twisting her stomach. “No control, not now.”

The ancient binding words thickened, the roll of them over her own skin raising goose bumps before they wrapped around Lucas and slipped and slid over Marek. She had to lose herself in them so that her bind could sink into their open minds. The awakened demon in her curved a wicked smile. If this was what she had to do, then she wanted something from him.

“I need you naked.”

Marek lifted an eyebrow. “Demands?”

Lucas’ tongue pressed again and Ash grabbed at Marek’s upper arms, her fingers biting into the leather. She wanted skin. Hell, they both did. He couldn’t deny it. Lucas eased from her body and then pushed again. Her pussy ached.

“My primary takes care of my every need.”

A slow smile cut across his mouth and swelled the heat coursing through Ash’s body. Lucas groaned and she knew he shared in her rush of arousal. Marek stepped back from her and tugged his tunic and thin undershirt over his head. Sunlight burnished his skin and Ash caught her breath as his beauty continued to surprise her. A wry smile twisted her slips. She should have known there’d be a price to pay for having him.

“Ash…” Lucas sighed against her skin and his finger teased her ass, circling sensitive flesh until his tip breached the ring of muscle. “No thoughts like that.”

She bit at her lip, the hot sensation of one and then two pushing fingers, and watching Marek slip his hand into the band of his breeches, the promise of him naked driving anything but hard need out of her head.

“What do you want, Ash?”

Marek’s question flowed over her damp skin, as warm as the slick kiss of the afternoon sun. Her gaze fixed on his thumb. It stroked over the hard muscle of his abdomen, teasing his navel. She ached to follow in its wake. The remembered taste of his skin burned in her thoughts, mixing with the steady rhythm of Lucas’ firm fingers. Damn it, she wanted them both. Both men inside her as she’d first seen them in the conjured dream that felt like a lifetime before.

“I want you. Is that plain enough?”

Marek laughed, something low and wicked. “Lucas?”

She felt the connection between the two men, something shared, almost the stream of golden thoughts that mirrored the dreams. She couldn’t read it, but Lucas stopped the slow thrust of his fingers. Ash closed her eyes as the fire of his touch ebbed away. He stood and the rustle of fabric followed. She gasped at the first touch of his cock. He stroked a hand over her hip, the knuckles of his other hand brushing a cheek. The heat of his body pressed up against her spine and Ash closed her eyes at the delicious brush of his skin against hers. Ancient words soared, and in the still air, over the sounds of their quick breathing, she heard herself cry out. Caheus had brought another of her replicas to orgasm, making him thick with flesh and bone—

Marek cupped her jaw and she fixed her attention on him. “He does not concern us. And those women aren’t you.” His gaze flicked to the man behind her and she didn’t miss the sudden spark making his eyes shine. There was no fear in Marek and that strength pushed her back against Lucas. “Ready?”

“Oh yes.” Lucas pushed and the head of his cock breached her ass. Ash arched her spine, breathing against the slow, slow push of him into her flesh. His warm hands shaped her hips, fingers flexing and the flow of her words wrapped around them both in an increasing keen, tying them together. “You’re ours,” he murmured and his slow pull back danced bright spots of light in front of her eyes. “You will always be ours.”

“Will she?” Marek teased the question over her lips while his hand skimmed over her breast, her belly, to play his fingertips across her mound. “Should we keep her, Lucas?”

The unexpected swell of anger mixed with fear tightened her gut. It overrode her terror of Caheus, of dying, of everything else. The surge of the words thickened in the air, displaying her increasing fury. “I’m not a toy.”

A wry smile lifted Marek’s mouth and his fingertip stroked across her sweet spot, bucking her back against Lucas. The sudden meeting of his hard thrust broke a cry from her. “You’re our toy. We play with you when we want.” A second finger joined the first and the fire licking low in her belly flared. “What else did you expect?”

Her instincts screamed at her to deny this, to take both men and pour her words into their open flesh. They had to goad her into reacting to them, the sane part of her brain knew that. But at that moment, she didn’t want to be sane.

“I expect you to fuck me.” Ash fisted her fingers in his hair and took his mouth, denying him more insolent questions. Her other hand tugged at his breeches. Marek wouldn’t spurn her now. Lucas eased back and the restriction of her flesh ran fire up her spine. He pushed deep and Marek’s fingers mirrored him. The sudden fullness made her tremble and her grip on his breeches slackened.

“I decide.” Marek’s words skittered over her skin and her birthmark throbbed in time with her blood. “I decide how he fucks you. How I fuck you.” He pushed down his breeches and his hand trailed her thigh and gripped it, hard. The head of his cock rubbed against her slick belly and her muscles squeezed around his fingers…and then they were gone. “If I fuck you.”

Ash glared at him and her hand grabbed his ass, pressing him hard up against her. The rhythm of the words deepened and she imagined sparks of fury in their depths. She’d had enough of this. “Now.”

Lucas groaned and his strokes into her body quickened. His hands tightened on her hips, almost lifting her off the sandy floor, the shift in her position easing Marek’s cock over her pussy. With each thrust, Lucas pressed Marek to where she ached for him. “Should I continue, primary?”

“Should he, Ash?”

Her thoughts were a tangled mass of desire and fury. The fast push of Lucas into her ass, the almost, almost slide of Marek into her pussy made her breath short and any coherent answer impossible. “Damn you, Marek…”

He laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Marek gripped both of her thighs and jerked her up, her ankles locking at his ass, opening her wide to Lucas. “For now.”

Lucas fucked her hard and fast and she clung to Marek, the jolt of her body forcing her against his cock, the promise of her release burning up through her flesh. She met every deep thrust, wanting Marek, hating him for tormenting her—

“Soon.” The word scorched against her ear, his breath hot but infuriatingly controlled. “Soon, I’ll be fucking you, then together, but only if you…”

“What?” She buried her face against his neck, her mouth on his hot skin, the spiced taste of him on her tongue. She was unable to deny the fire building in her body, the surge of her release so close that she ached to grab it and let it overwhelm her. Lucas growled, stroking into her ass, and his fingers bit into her skin hard enough to bruise. There. The wild push of her release was almost, almost with her… “What do I have to do?”

Marek sank deep into her pussy and growled, “Come for me.”

Heat enveloped her, the wave of it crashing over her, and she groaned against Marek’s shoulder, the fullness of both men in her body spiraling her joy. The fierce burn of magic strengthened the rush of her words…and then he started to move, to pull back and stroke into her. He matched Lucas’ solid pace and Ash let herself sink into the sensation of being caught between both men, the slick slide of their hair-roughened skin against hers. This was where she belonged, the three of them bound, sex and magic…and love…in the beauty of the deomos.

Marek bit at her earlobe, the pleasure-pain rioting through her already thrumming flesh. “Mine,” he murmured and the raw word twisted through her, increasing the keen of the binding words streaming over their skin.

In the distance, another woman cried out her release, but it only ran a light shiver over her body. Ash didn’t care. She wanted Marek and Lucas. Had them. Would sink her binding words so deep into their souls they would never escape her. She grinned against Marek’s mouth. “Take me together.”

“Ash…” His low warning tightened her around him and he frowned. “I’m your primary. I decide.”

His eyes narrowed and she held her breath. Time slowed, her heartbeat too loud in her ears. The stream of her words wound around the strange flow that existed between Marek and Lucas and she could just work out…

And they took her at the same time, their rhythm deliciously perfect. Ash couldn’t stop the cry that escaped as she clung to Marek, fighting to breathe, to somehow make sense of the wild sensation scorching up through her body. Skin against skin, her breasts rubbing against Marek’s chest, teasing her nipples, their hands gripping her, her men, a part of her as she was of them.

Ash closed her eyes and listened to the ragged sound of their breathing, of her own, at the satisfying smack of their bodies against hers and of the words churning through the air in a rippling song. It washed around them and she felt it tighten and then slip beneath their skin, pushing at their flesh, their minds, wanting to envelop them, bind them to her and to each other. But not yet. They were close, so close and the thought of her words sinking into their bodies ran liquid fire through her veins. Her reawakened demon rose within her, and she glared at Marek, seeing the reflection of desire in his eyes.

“You belong to me.” She fisted her hand in Marek’s hair, echoing the spill of ancient words. Lucas moaned against her shoulder and she could feel the tightening of his body, how near he was to finding his release. “I will keep you.”

Marek’s fingers dug into her thighs, and the hard push of them into her body drove away the ability to speak. Their bodies slick with sweat and need, they held her and fucked her hard and steady. Ash groaned, biting her bottom lip. Already fresh licks of fire chased up her spine and her own orgasm teetered on the edge of her flesh…but she needed Marek with her.

“Ash… Make him come.” Lucas grunted into her shoulder, his hands, his body shaking with the need that gripped both her and him. “Please.”

“Together.” She burned the word against Marek’s mouth, tasting his lips, his tongue all too briefly. He murmured something unintelligible and the flow of ancient words pushed at his closed thoughts, opening him to her, letting her taste the fire of his emotions. “Sharing me. I can feel you, your cocks almost touching.” She grinned against his mouth, picking out his illicit desires. “You like it.”

Marek kissed her, cutting off her words, her breath, taking her in a ruthless kiss that mirrored the hard stroke of him into her body. The string of ancient words screamed around them, whipped into a frenzy by Marek, by Lucas’ open minds, at their release so…so…close…

A blaze of white-hot light burst over her, searing her thoughts, her skin as both men came and took her with them. Ash thought she screamed, but it was lost in the riot of joy taking her flesh, in the words sinking into both men, in the binding that would make them perfect. Make them deomos.

Air and heat swirled around them and it broke Ash from her pleasure, the ripples of her release still running though her body. Trembling, she stared at a wall of white sand darkening the glare of the sun. It swept over them and around them, spinning faster, and in the grit and the growing blackness burned a face. Somehow he looked familiar, human…but not. And the not sent a shot of cold fear down her spine. In the fire and joy of their bodies, in the creation of perfection, she’d forgotten why they were there…

“Your binding is complete.” Caheus opened his mouth wide, too wide, and revealed rows of glistening teeth. “Now I feed.”

Chapter Thirteen

Fear ran thick into her belly and the sudden discomfort of being trapped between Marek and Lucas forced her to arch, to try to free herself. She had to run. They had to run. Not simply accept that Caheus would devour them whole.

Lucas caressed her shoulders and his forehead rested against the tangle of her hair. He eased from her body and Marek stroked his hands over her thighs. Her bare feet touched the hot sand and he supported her trembling legs. “We’re here with you.” Lucas’ whisper forced tears and her throat tightened. “Close your eyes.”

Pain bloomed in her chest. It really was about to happen. She fought to breathe, the heat of Lucas’ body, of Marek’s, making her too hot and the air tight in her lungs. Caheus stretched around and above them and his rank breath washed down over her bare skin. She couldn’t look up. The sound of his wide maw opening, muscles creaking, skin stretching and of the heat and the sharpness of his teeth ran through her blood. Caheus’ heart thudded loud and slow.

“You will set me free.”

His voice boomed and Ash shuddered, the terror of her approaching death consuming her. It was not fair. To lose Lucas, to lose Marek now when she was bound to both men, had feelings for them, hell, when she loved them…

Marek pressed his hand to her jaw and she stared at him, desperate for his strength, his reassurance. “We’ll be all right?”

Darkness shrouded them, the howl of the writhing sand blending with Caheus’ solid heartbeat. She didn’t get her answer. Lucas’ hands tightened on her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. His fear, his fear for her, thickened in her thoughts and she wanted to offer comfort, promise him that they would survive. Her hand covered his, her fingers threading until she could curl her fingertips over the back of his hand. Grief, anger and love swirled through her thoughts and she ached to hold him, to turn into his arms. Shield him against the monster trapping them.

Marek touched his lips to hers, a light, almost endless kiss that squeezed her heart. “I’m with you.”

Lucas tensed as her regret powered through her and wrapped around him. But then another pain swept through him, its first cut tearing his skin…and hers as she shared his torment. Jagged teeth raked his flesh and Ash held her breath, bracing her body, waiting, waiting for the agony of his first screams.

The iron scent of blood mixed with Caheus’ rank breath and his loud heartbeat drummed fast in her head. The monster was dragging it out, had to be enjoying the fear and the pain he inflicted. Curses ran through her thoughts, anger fighting with the terror in her blood.

“Get it over with.” She growled the words and Lucas tightened his grip on her body, shot real pain through her flesh rather than the echo of his own. Ash glared up at the maw above her. She ignored the sudden bloom of horror that ran fearful heat through her blood.

The maw above her looked like a mouth…and didn’t. Something swirled in its depths and the raw pull of the magic seared her skin. Caheus’ power was endless, terrifying, and the thought of him breaking out of the prison her ancestors had built around him, of him feeding that power into Zorion’s madness, chilled her heart. They would be a part of it. Would enable Caheus to what…?

Lucas’ pain filled her thoughts, the agony in his flesh sharpening her senses. Caheus’ magic, what he was, flared across her mind, stabbing needles under her skin, driving the pain deeper. It hit her in a wild rush. Death and life coalesced with him, were under his total command.

Ancient memories burned across her thoughts of the dead walking, caught in the hell of their own decaying flesh. Caheus drew his strength from their pain, from the slow seepage of their life. He fed from them as he had consumed the images of her.

His unnaturalness wrapped the odor of rot around the pain firing under every inch of her skin…and that was his power. His ability to feed from the living, to turn them to husks inside their own bodies. And then he would feed from that too.

Ash crushed her eyes against Lucas’ agony, the grind of Caheus’ teeth into his flesh leaking tears down her cheeks. She grabbed at Marek, wanting his strength. And it hit her. The small part of her brain that could still think realized that he wasn’t in pain. Only anger scorched from Marek. Anger and power.

She forced her eyes open. The whip of sand, of the dark, glistening interior of the beast’s mouth, filled her vision. Marek stared down the throat of the endless maw, his body tense under her tight grip, but she felt not a shred of pain pulse from him.

She said his name. Her lips, her tongue moved but she didn’t feel the push of sound. Ash swallowed, her mouth dry and raw. She pulled in a heavy lungful of fetid air and shouted into the darkness. “Marek!”

“I’m the perfect combination of the old and new magics.” Marek’s voice somehow rose above the chaotic roar of the twisting sand and the rapid thud of Caheus’ heartbeat. His chin lifted and the maw jerked back. Excited heat ran through her body and it surged over Lucas, a balm to the agony of his flesh. Whatever it was about Marek, the damn monster edged away. “You have no power over me.”

Hard laughter deafened them. “Really?”

Marek gripped Lucas’ shoulder and the agony of the beast’s teeth rendering his flesh stopped. Simply stopped. The absence of pain caught her breath. Lucas’ forehead dropped to her shoulder and the hot run of his tears soaked her skin. Her heart squeezed and she glared up at the distortion of a mouth that surrounded them. “You were saying?”

A smile twitched at Marek’s lips. “I have the power of the deomos. Not you.”

The laughter deepened. “You think that.”

“I know that.” She felt the full smile that cut across his mouth. “Didn’t Zorion tell you about me?”

“You’re a mongrel, like so many of the dark souls now. Blood thinned and twisted.” Derision pushed through his words. “Not as pure to taste as Lucas here, but I’ll still devour you.” The maw edged closer, but Marek’s hand on Lucas’ shoulder prevented teeth biting into his back. “Zorion wants a share in my power. To do that I needed to know what he was, know the mix of dark soul and custodian. He chose you. He gave a part of himself with his daughter and the luxury of a pure dark soul with Lucas.” Satisfaction edged his voice. “Nothing you can do will stop me.”

“Then carry on.”

Caheus loomed over them and the surge of magic thickened as he poured more of himself into devouring them.

Marek stood firm, his inner power, even stripped of his magics, both dark soul and custodian, giving him—and them—strength to fight the beast’s attack. “When I learned what Ash was,” Marek gritted out the words and his force formed a solid barrier, a rock against the raw pulse of Caheus’ magic, “I prepared.”

“Prepared?” Caheus growled and the burn of power curled and sparked around them, but nothing touched their skin and Lucas remained free of pain. The twist of frustration threaded through the magic. Whatever Marek did was beginning to enrage the beast. “There is no defense against me.”

“Our unity is our defense.”

Ash stared up into the gaping mouth and pushed down her fear. She trusted Marek, trusted that he knew what the hell he was doing. A wry smile tugged at her mouth and the echo of it flowed back into Lucas. They were deomos. The power of that bond wrapped around them, through them and Marek—she could feel it now—Marek had harnessed their power. His denial had been a ploy, meant to fool whoever planned to use them, to exploit the deomos.

She ignored the brief curl of doubt that he couldn’t have trusted her with that knowledge. If what he planned got them out alive and uneaten, she was happy.

Caheus’ roar splintered her thoughts and the thick flesh of his mouth wavered, swirls of sand spinning in its place. “You were not complete. You could not have control.”

“Zorion didn’t understand what I am. I’m a perfect balance of my powers.” Marek’s satisfied grin made Ash want to kiss him. Hard. “Without the oath of the custodians, the honor of that code, I can do what the hell I like.”

Caheus’ rage burned incandescent and his fury stormed against them…but not one lick of his magic touched their skin. Lucas’ hands gripped her shoulders and his pride in Marek, in them, surged through Ash. The joy, the respect, hell, the desire they had for each other strengthened their bond and gave yet more power to their magic. And it funneled through Marek and beat against the violent rage of the desperate, ancient beast.

The flesh of Caheus frizzled away as he consumed himself in trying to kill them. The burning light of the arena scorched through, slicing away the darkness, illuminating the twists of white sand flowing around them.

“Zorion thought he offered me as his replacement.”

Marek laughed and something in his tone, the sharp scorn, spiked Caheus and the raw burst of energy swept around them in a brilliant flare of white light. “Mongrels will not defeat me.” The stink of charred flesh cut through the dry whip of the sand and its heat prickled her skin.

A tremor ran through Marek, and Ash reacted. She pulled his head down and covered his mouth with her own. She swallowed his groan as her tongue fought with his. His cock hardened against her belly and fresh, new fire raced through her body, through his, through Lucas. The taste of magic quickly followed, the familiar heat and joy that was almost as addictive as the mouth of the man she kissed.

“It’s working.” Lucas’ voice stole over her skin and his hands tightened against her hips.

The scorch of Caheus faded and the slicking heat of the sun kissed her shoulders. She heard a distant scream and then a blast of sand showered them.

Marek slumped to the sand, breaking her mouth from his and dropping Lucas with them. Lucas groaned as his knees impacted the hard, black stone beneath his feet. Marek helped her support him, her sweating hands slick against his skin.

“His back was shredded.” Ash pulled in her courage and willed herself to look at his back…and found it smooth and uncut, no blood staining his skin. “I don’t understand.” She ran light fingers over his shoulder blade, his ribs, across his spine. His muscles twitched, but she didn’t get a hard hit of pain in their wake. “It wasn’t real?”

Marek lifted his head. Weariness hung on him. Standing against Caheus had drained him of his incredible strength. “Caheus is a powerful dark soul, with strong influence. He can make you believe that he’s killing you. And it’s how he feeds.”

Ash shook her head. “I hate magic.”

Lucas gave a weak, sour laugh. “That makes two of us.”

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and smiled against his skin. “You shouldn’t taste so good.”

“My eternal problem.” He looked to Marek, who climbed to his feet and found their clothes. He shook the sand from his trousers and pulled them on before finding his boots. “How long before he comes back?”

Marek smacked the sand from his tunic. “I don’t know. Not long. He’s still caught here. The crystal map was only a small chink cutting into this prison.” He stamped into his boots. “You both need to dress.”

Ash helped him to shrug clothes onto Lucas before she tugged on her long tunic and breeches. She pushed her feet into her slippers and took Lucas’ arm again. “Where is he?”

A bleak smile touched Marek’s mouth. “If I were as mad as Caheus is right now, I’d be having my fun with Zorion.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Well, until he comes to his senses. Zorion is his only link to the world beyond this prison. Wonder how long it’ll take him to remember that.”

“Long enough for us to get out of here.” Lucas straightened and twisted himself free of their hold. He offered his hands. “Use the deomos to get out of here.”

“You’re too weak…” Ash’s protesting words died as Marek took his right hand and held it tight. His dark eyes seared her and she felt his compulsion to obey. “He’s not strong enough.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Ash, we have to get out. Marek may not be able to hold him off a second time.”

She bit at her lip. Damn them for making her care for them. Ash slid her fingers against his and pressed her fingertips into his palm. She could feel his will, the sheer effort it took for him to stand unaided. Her love for him tangled with the fear that this would be the last time she saw him, touched him, felt him wrap his thoughts and emotions around hers.

Ash pushed down the wild rush of her thoughts and met Marek’s hard gaze. He was their primary. She had to trust that he knew what he was doing. “What now?”

“Now we use what’s left of the deomos power to break through the dream barrier. We have somewhere we have to be.” He paused and drew in a deep breath. “Time to sleep, Ash.”

Chapter Fourteen

With a cry, Ash hit the floor. Not sand, and the hot beat of the scorching sun didn’t burn her skin, slick her body with sweat. Cool air, the scent of aloes and almonds drifting on the light breeze and the shift of silk against stone pushed at her senses in a strange haze.

She shook her head and opened her eyes to a wide room, filled with gilded furniture. Ornate paintings covered the high, plastered walls and in the center sat a huge bed, draped with heavy fabrics. Where the hell…?

Something—someone—stirred beside her. Her world sharpened and fear slammed into her. “Lucas?”

He lay on the tiled floor, his face an unnatural gray. She cupped her hand to his jaw and his skin was clammy to touch. Her heart turned over. She could feel his pulse, weak and thready. His thoughts as she tried to wrap her mind around his were sluggish and incoherent. Ash bit her lip and ached to push her will into him. After everything they had been through, she would not lose him now.

“Wait.” Marek put a steady hand on her shoulder. “We have time. There’s another way.” He stood back from her and turned to the draped bed. “Majesty.”

Ash stared at him, not believing that he could dismiss the threat to Lucas so easily. Each pained beat of his heart pulled at her own chest. She could almost feel the cold bite of death in his veins and Marek, Marek seemed more concerned with waking the sleeping lump in the vast bed.

He glanced back at her. He looked to Lucas and his eyes narrowed. “Trust me, Ash. I’ll save him for you.”

That strange twist of guilt broke through her fear. Ash blinked. It wasn’t her guilt, it was Marek’s. She frowned. What did he have to be guilty about?

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” A meaty hand yanked back the heavy bed curtain and a large man in a linen nightshirt loomed out of the shadows of the bed. The crest of the imperial throne gilded his chest in gold and silver thread. Ash’s gut tightened. He was Rufin Uiseann Balere, Prince of the Senate, First Priest of the Pantheon, Commander of the Legions. Justus the Sixth. The emperor. “Guards!”

“Majesty.” Marek gave him a quick, but low bow. “I’m the custodian, Marek Savada.”

The emperor’s pale eyes narrowed. Heavy doors thudded against stone and the clank and clatter of guards charging at a run filled the room. He waved his hand and the men stopped. The senior guard, his breastplate burnished copper and inlaid with the golden imperial crest, snapped a salute.

“Sire, should we execute these intruders?”

“You may leave, Commander Visten. I’m quite safe.” Justus watched the soldiers turn and march from the room, their iron-shod boots clanking against the tiles. The doors shut with a heavy thump and the emperor swung his legs free of the covers to stand before them. “Marek.” He looked to her and then to Lucas. “Ashsara Nerah and…?”

“Lucas Taysia, Majesty. The third in our deomos.”

Justus wiped a hand across his mouth, his forefinger and thumb pinching his plump lips. Heat burned across his sagging cheeks. “You formed a deomos.” He sank back to the bed and his palm swept over his thinning hair. His shoulders dropped. “Zorion?”

Marek tilted his head. Ash held her breath and in that silence, the distant, torn screams ran goose bumps over her skin. “He may well not be sane anymore, Majesty.”

A slight smile touched the emperor’s lips before he sobered and his chin lifted. “Then the custodians need a new Senior Prime. The role is yours, Lord Savada.”

Marek gave a short nod, his face calm and composed, but Ash felt the burn of satisfaction run through him. “I would be honored, Majesty.” He straightened. “And now if I could ask a favor of you?”

“You have removed a man who has restricted, plagued my rule.” He teased his fingers through the strands of his blond hair and for a brief moment he looked away. Lucas’ heartbeat drew her back to him and his face looked aged, worn. He was slipping away before her and Marek continued to…to talk. The emperor shifted against the silk sheets of his high bed. “I was too aware, but unable to act against him. My only way of warning you was through the loyalty of Jasha Lonat. You were a man marked by Zorion and he has spies everywhere. He has distorted the rule of so many. Put that slug Nelek in a position of power.” He released a bitter sigh. “I apologize. What would you ask of me, Marek?”

“That you find Zorion and watch his torture while it lasts.”

A smile quirked the corner of the emperor’s mouth. “You want me out of this room to heal your secondary?”

Ash’s head snapped up and she found Justus looking at her. He pushed himself to his feet and strode across the room. He swung on a heavy dressing gown and tied the cord around his waist. His bare feet found lined, leather slippers. “All the royal line are taught the customs of the dark souls, Ashsara. It’s still in our blood and for a rare few, magic will burn.” He pulled open one of the large, ebony doors and the clank of saluting guards cut into the bedchamber. “And after I enjoy his torture, I will find a tower in which Zorion can scream away his remaining decades.” A dark smile cut his fleshy lips. “I think the First Priest of Fausta and his retinue will join him.”

The door thudded shut and Ash let her shoulders drop. Marek was already moving. He gripped Lucas and with his hands under his armpits, he heaved him onto the emperor’s rumpled bed. A huffed breath of air escaped Lucas. His chest dipped. The beat of his heart slowed.

Ash pressed a fist to her chest, willing Lucas to mirror the strong thud of her own heart.

“That’s not enough.” Marek yanked his tunic over his head. The last rays of the twelfth hour cut through the wide windows and outlined his smooth torso. Her pulse jumped and the first taste of magic came with it. “He needs our energy.” A smile touched his mouth, brief almost awkward. His finger traced the line of her jaw and a ripple of pleasure eased under her skin. “With it, I can save him.”

Ash tilted her head into his touch. “Then why are we still talking?” She tugged her long tunic over her head and it puddled on the tiled floor, her breeches and slippers quickly joining it. Her fingers pulled at the ties and buttons on his trousers. The rise of her demon self already warmed her blood. She would have him hard and quick and—

Marek stopped her hands and the hard heat in his eyes held her. “Your magic will be mine.”

Ash sucked in a quick breath, her desire for him rising. She touched his thoughts, a light, surface caress. His want gripped her, but there was something else, something lurking in the shadows of his mind that he wouldn’t let her see. “Marek, we share all that we are.”

He pushed down his trousers, kicked off his boots and urged her back against the silk-lined wall. The cool fabric brushed her bare spine, her ass and then Marek’s hot hands lifted her, parted her. “I share this,” he murmured, and his cock pressed against her slicked sex.

Ash dug her fingers into his shoulders, pushing her hips forward, eager for him to sink deep into her flesh. They would give new strength to Lucas…and then… A quick bolt of desire-driven magic skittered under her skin. They had decades to explore everything. “You can’t hide from me.”

Marek’s thoughts were a dull granite and his fingers tightened against her ass. His cock pushed, so close to where she needed, ached for him that Ash held her breath. “Magic weaves under your skin, sings in your flesh, tastes…” His lips brushed hers. “Sweet.”

Ash’s heart pounded and she rolled her pelvis. Sparks danced behind her eyes. The head of his cock teased her and then he thrust forward. The first wave of her release coalesced with the bright burn of magic and it spiraled up, up, Marek catching it, weaving it with this thoughts. On the bed, Lucas gave a soft groan.

With the next hard stroke of him into her pussy, Marek speared her with his heated gaze and tugged at her bottom lip. “I want you.”

Something lurked under his words, the darkness that seemed to flow beneath everything that he said. But the lies were over. He had hidden their unity to fool Zorion and Caheus. Now there was nothing to hide. “Marek…?”

Desire and desperation wrapped around her. His want of her was hot, heavy, burning through her flesh. “You.” His mouth covered hers in a ruthless kiss, denying more questions. His bruising hands and the hard thrust of his cock called to her demon blood.

Magic rose. It tasted of life and sex and their perfection. Marek wrought it into healing and strength, his ease crushing her to him. She wanted his strength. He was their primary, would restore Lucas…

Marek groaned and his strokes into her willing body increased. She tightened her thighs against his hips, the squeeze of her muscles around his cock searing a hot liquid twist of brilliant magic between them. Their binding deepened the desire, the need to fuck hard and fast, to share what they were, to find glory and joy in their demon blood. And she would.

Ash broke her mouth from his with a low growl, fisted her hand in his hair and forced him to look at her. Magic flickered in the darkness of his eyes in streaks of gold and silver. “What are you hiding?”

Anger creased the corner of his eyes and the sparks of power curving his irises glittered. “Questions?” He rolled his hips and the sudden flare low in her flesh caught her breath. “Now?”

Her mouth thinned and she pushed down against him, meeting every hard thrust. He was hers and she had the right to know his thoughts.

His lips ghosted her mouth, ignoring the tug of her fingers in his hair. “I’m your primary.” The hot words burned against her skin. “Obey me.”

She sank her teeth into his bottom lip, tasting him, feeling the fast pulse of his blood. Her thoughts touched his. It was still there, the obscuring mosaic of granite and diamond, shifting, blurring his deeper emotions. She could taste…something. Something sour. “Guilt.” Her tongue laved her teeth marks on his lip. “Fierce, choking.”

Marek closed his mind to her and anger rushed from him. His fingers gripped her ass and he pushed deep, pushed hard, the need to end the unwanted conversation his final thought. Ash wanted to lose herself in this strength, the force of his body and the desire that drove him. They had to heal Lucas and the magic fusing together from their hot flesh rippled over them and him. His soft groans, mirroring Marek’s push into her body, proved it was working.

Yet Marek’s bitter secret tempered the pulse of her release. It was there on the edge of her thoughts, the knowledge that her primary, the man she desired, the man she loved, kept a needed part of himself hidden. “Lucas will share his past with me.” Her words came out on broken gasps, the slick heat of Marek’s body pinning her to the damp silk of the wall. “You.” Her head fell back and Marek buried his face against her neck. His lips touched the shell of her ear, his ragged breath heating her blood. “You deny me. Deny us.”

He paused and for long seconds he stayed still and silent. Ash’s wild heartbeat slowed and she couldn’t help the wince that tightened her face.

“It hurts.” He pulled in air and held it before letting it go on a long sigh. “It hurts that I love you.”

Her heart twisted, joy and then fear rushing through her veins. He had never wanted to be their primary, had fought his own heritage until forced to accept it by Zorion. She pushed out the question that had the magic dying in her flesh. “You want to break our deomos?”

Marek jerked his head back and stared at her. “Break?” His sudden burst of fear smashed into her, quickly followed by anger and the burn of possession. His glare seared her. “You’re ours. Mine.”

She squeezed her pussy around him and his hips bucked involuntarily. The first spark of magic teased her belly and Lucas shifted on the bed. “You love me.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw and he looked at Lucas. Ash followed his gaze. Sunlight edged Lucas’ face and his eyelids fluttered. His gold-touched beauty lifted her thoughts, brought a smile to her mouth. Marek looked back and his lips thinned for a brief moment. “I’ll heal him for you. I promise.” His gaze fixed on her mouth. “You love him.”

Ash blinked and her fingers touched his jaw. “Guilt.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, the now familiar brush of bristles, the spiced taste of his skin sinking warmth into her soul. She rolled her hips and the feel of him still hard and hot inside her curved a smile across her lips. “Lucas loves me and I love him.”

There, the slight tensing of his shoulders, his back and the thickening of his shield in his mind deepened her smile. He was their primary, but with the games he had had to play, he didn’t understand the true nature of their bond. He felt guilt for wanting, for loving her when she loved, and was loved, by another. “Marek.” She whispered his name against his lips and pulled back to hold his gaze. She could read nothing from him, but she knew he hid his pain. “It’s who we are. I love him and I love you.” He blinked. “And you’re expected to love me.” She smirked. “We share…everything.” She pulled a slow kiss from his lips. “Honestly, I’m supposed to be the one ignorant of all law and customs of the dark souls—”

Marek stopped her words, but his kiss was slow, deep, a kiss that reached down and created a liquid run of warm, golden magic threading through her flesh. He caught it, wrapped it around and through his own and let her join in bathing it over Lucas. It slid over his thoughts, caressed him, eased the pain Caheus had inflicted.

Marek sighed and the slow push of his hips brought her thoughts back to him. She teased a kiss and then another, meeting his powerful thrusts. Magic, desire and the soft keen of their binding song swept over them, repairing the doubt, the secrecy. “I love you.” Marek’s soft whisper warmed her skin.

She felt his smile as if it were her own and his flow of emotion, of need, desire, affection and… Her eyes narrowed. “Irritation?”

Humor sparked in his gaze. “Another question, Ash?”

“Then it’s mutual.” She pushed down and squeezed her thighs, forcing him deeper, and watched the flare of magic and want gleam in his eyes. “Primary.”

“Yes, I am.” He grinned and the throb low in her belly made her gasp. His mouth found hers and his tongue mirrored the hard stroke of his cock.

Ash groaned and clung to him, his skin slick under her fingers, the feel of hard muscle, his strength and power, rioted through her. They were bound in perfection and that knowledge drove her against him, faster, the smack of their bodies, their moans, filling the silence. Magic and the flickering edges of her release wound up through her flesh and she grabbed at both. Fire danced under her skin. She wanted to come, but she wanted to luxuriate in the joy, the glory of Marek fucking her and the creation of sweet, delicious magic.

Marek broke his lips from hers and his harsh breaths burned against her ear. “Come for me, Ash. Sear the air with your screams.”

Her heart pounded and she crushed her eyes, riding out the first ripple of hot orgasm. “Damn you.”

His wicked laughter slid another flutter of intense joy. “Want me to stop?”

Ash growled, her dark soul blood rising. “Want to do this ever again?”

Marek’s laughter deepened and he teased his teeth, his tongue across her earlobe, and the liquid heat in her veins flared. “Come for me.” His pause ramped her already pounding heart. “I love you.”

Ash arched into him, a cry escaping her mouth as her release swept in an unstoppable, violent wave up from her belly to overwhelm her thoughts. Magic burned, flooding her, chasing over her breasts, her belly, finding Marek, finding Lucas. The sweet sound of it rang through her. Marek’s erratic thrusts added fury and her body, her limbs shook. Only his hard hands, the solid strength of him, kept her from slipping from his arms. He came, his heat filling her, and his low groan sent a delicious shiver under her skin.

Her head flopped back. She breathed through the last slow pulses of her release. An easy smile pulled across her mouth and she felt the echo of Marek’s in her flesh. His mind shone, open for her, and the beauty of his gift squeezed her heart.

Marek straightened and flexed his fingers against her ass. His head tilted and his dark grin pushed fresh need into her mind. “A bed next time, I think.”

Ash dropped her bare feet to the cool tiled floor and curled her toes. She lifted her arms, stretching her spine, the pull of sated muscles a pleasure.

“A bed would be different.”

“Lucas.” His name burst from her and heat bloomed in her chest. Then she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him, her head pressed to this chest. The slow, deep thud of his heart made her eyes burn. She bit at the inside of her cheek to stop more tears and smiled as his fingers skimmed long the hollow of her spine to trace a lazy pattern over her ass. She looked up, her chin creasing his linen shirt. “Feeling better?”

He lifted an eyebrow, his face almost lost now in the heavy shadow of the bed. “More time without me?”

“You’re alive,” Marek said. “Be thankful.”

“Oh I am, primary.”

Lucas’ eyes sparked and Ash almost touched the connection between them, the sharing of thoughts. It pushed an idea into her mind, one she hadn’t thought through before. “We create magic. Can I use magic?”

“With time and practice.” Marek picked up his trousers and pulled them on. Ash watched him, disappointed that he wasn’t ordering Lucas to strip. His gaze narrowed on her and she smirked at him. Her thoughts were too obvious. He bent and picked up a long crystal, the mirror of the one Zorion had turned to flickering light.

Ash blinked. “That’s the marker…”

“Caheus still needs to be imprisoned.” He flexed his fingers around the heavy crystal and its magic thrummed through her flesh, but she didn’t feel the pull of the old demon buried beneath the palace. “It seems we’re his new keepers.”

“How?”

Lucas traced a random pattern against her skin. “Marek defeated him. Who else would magic choose?”

Marek shrugged and dropped the crystal on the bed. “Now, since the emperor made me Senior Prime, I must enter the citadel. I need to reintroduce myself to old friends. Offer discipline.” His attention wandered over her nakedness, stopping on Lucas’ hand on her ass. She felt Lucas’ cock stir beneath her. He shook his head and gathered more of his clothes. “You’ll be safe here. Justus will be occupied with Zorion and Nelek. I suspect our emperor will enjoy his newfound power.” He shrugged his way into his crumpled tunic and pulled on his boots. Straightening his shoulders, he rubbed his hands over his face and smoothed down his hair. He picked up the crystal again.

“You’re under the protection of the emperor and the Senior Prime of the Custodians.” His lips twitched and Ash felt the burn of his satisfaction in her own gut, caught the brief flickers of his old and bitter memories. His order had shunned him, mistreated him, but Marek had removed a man who had ruled for centuries and the emperor had installed him as the successor. His oath had once bound him to respect and work within the order. Now he set the rules. Ash watched his dark smile grow. “I could be a while.”

“So we should amuse ourselves?”

Ash rolled her eyes at the lascivious edge to Lucas’ voice and she pinched him. He yelped.

Marek took her chin in light fingers. He dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. His taste, the brief swirl of magic and lust curled into her flesh and she almost purred. “I give you permission to do everything you think I would want.” He murmured the words against her lips and her heart thudded. No sour emotion lurked in him. He knew he could share in their joy, and intended to do just that. “Keep me firmly in your thoughts.” He glanced at Lucas. “Both of you.”

He straightened and color flushed his cheeks. He ran a hand over the thin leather of his tunic, then turned on his heel. Ash felt his reluctance to leave them, had it mixed with her own. Marek stopped at the door. “Have fun.”

The door thudded shut behind him.

Ash let out a short cry as Lucas rolled her and pinned her wrists above her head. “Our primary has spoken.” His thigh pushed between hers and hard muscle pressed just right. The sweet shape of magic flowed between them. Lucas grinned. “We must obey.”

“And think of him?”

His kiss was more of a tease across her jaw. “Is he ever far from your thoughts?”

Ash arched her body against his, aching to deepen their contact, to let Marek share in the ecstasy they could give him. Lucas was right. He would never be out of her thoughts. Neither man would. They were tied together, bound in love and lust and magic, for as long as she could imagine. A smirk pulled at her mouth. Longer. It was time for her to enjoy her heritage…and already the blood of her dark soul heated her flesh. “I want to make him squirm.”

“All right.” Lucas’ grin deepened and the flicker of gold gleamed in his eyes. “I can do that.”