Arcane hearts, p.1
Arcane Hearts, page 1
Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2023 Faedra Rose
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0769-3
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Jessica Ruth
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ARCANE HEARTS
Hearts of Avalar, 4
Faedra Rose
Copyright © 2023
Chapter One
Jareth
The Dread Barrens stretch out before me, a desolate, twisted, and lifeless expanse of chasms and marred plains. Sharp, jutting spires of black stone reach so high as to threaten to pierce the very sky above, while a river of seemingly tangible shadow runs through the landscape, its dark tendrils seeping into any crack in the earth it can find.
Lingering in the shade of the lush and abundant jungles of The Green Sea for just a moment longer, I step forth, my mind made up, my quest clear. The Dread Barrens cannot be allowed to continue to expand. Already, its taint has spread into my kind’s lands, shriveling plants, poisoning waterways, and sickening our food sources—the very beasts we rely on to feed our families and young.
And so, the burden of correcting this great wrong falls upon my shoulders. I alone—as alpha of The Green Sea Pride—must set forth and face our common enemy: the reclusive warlock, Bane Umbra. We can’t rely on the Earth witches for assistance. The Mirror Lands border The Dread Barrens to the north but are protected by their own enchantments and spells … and they are bound by multiple alliances with The Guild of Warlocks. We, however, are not so fortunate; and the blight of The Dread Barrens will continue to seep into our territory if something isn’t done, if someone doesn’t act, and soon.
The soil feels dead and dry beneath my paws as I slink across the landscape. It is no more than black dust, like ashes. Above, the sky is in a state of permanent maelstrom. Lightning crackles, black clouds roil, and darkness covers the land like a sickness. If I’m not successful in my quest, all panther shifters will fall prey to this enveloping gloom. I cannot fail.
So, what’s the plan, Jareth? I ask myself. But the truth is … I don’t know. I know what must happen. I just don’t know how to make it so. Do I threaten the warlock? That could spell not only my death, but the demise of The Green Sea and all its inhabitants. I’m as physically fit and lethal as any alpha panther could hope to be, but at the end of the day … I have no magic of my own. I can’t fight fire with fire.
My only hope is to take him completely by surprise. It’s the sole way I’ll have a chance at getting close enough to launch a killing strike. But would killing him even fix the problem? Who or what would contain the virulent darkness once he’s dead? Would it dissipate and crawl back into the bowels of the Nether from whence it came? Or would it spread, unchecked, and unstoppable?
The magnitude of my burden weighs heavily upon me, and I find my mood souring the deeper into enemy territory I venture. It’s like the very air poisons the mind, turning hope into despair! Weaker souls might be tempted to turn back, but not I. The burden of alphahood is a heavy crown that few can bear, but I will wear it with honor and strength for as long as I live. I’ve been challenged all of three times in my hundred years, and yet, here I still stand, while my challengers lie cold in the ground, no more than food for the worms. Mercy is a price a true alpha cannot afford.
Skulking between strange, lurid green-veined rock formations, past elusive, intangible shadow beasts, and beneath the boughs of the odd, gnarled tree, it takes several hours to reach the foothold of The Spire—the warlock’s tower. A great circular mote of liquid shadow protects Bane’s refuge from all those who might dare to enter, like a dark ring of intangible death. With due caution and no small amount of courage, I approach the black waters.
Drawing nearer, I take an involuntary step backward, one paw poised, half-cocked in the air. There are faces in the writhing shadows! Gaunt and pained, their mouths forever torn by eternal screams that warp and twist as they meld into one another, only to re-appear moments later. A shiver runs through me and my hackles rise. The torment! Sweet Goddess. What crimes did these souls commit to end up bound in agony for all of time, guarding Bane’s blasted tower? Nothing about this forsaken place is natural. What once was—what life this land may have ever nurtured—is a distant memory. Every inch of me itches and yearns to be away from this cesspool of malevolence. But I must press on. My pride is depending on me.
Staking out The Spire, I circle its immense girth, seeking a point of entrance or an area of weakness. To my dismay it seems truly impenetrable. Have I wasted my time? I wonder, sitting back on my haunches, my heavy brow creased in consternation. There must be a way in, but how? There appears to be no windows for a hundred levels, at least. There are no handholds or crevices by which to gain purchase—it’s entirely, perfectly smooth—so even climbing the behemoth structure is out of the question.
If I want to maintain the element of surprise, I can’t declare myself or risk challenging him. And Bane is no fool, I sigh, shaking my head. He will have ensured that every possibility and every weakness has been accounted for tenfold. This is his home, his fort, and his seat of power in Avalar. He will have made sure that no one could possibly catch him unawares. Frustrated, I wrinkle my nose, twitching my whiskers. Think! I compel myself.
I know for certain that warlocks are born without access to the innate magic of their witch mothers. They attain their powers through study and learning. Countless years of their long lives are spent poring over ancient tomes, holed up in dusty libraries, perfecting their craft with minds that know no fatigue. As solitary and distrustful as they are by nature, they value knowledge above all else, and so The Guild of Warlocks was formed—so that they might share their secrets and rituals with one another.
I’ve heard stories over the years that would give even the bravest of souls nightmares. The Guild is a most underhanded and dark company of individuals with no discernible moral code beyond their own boundless ambitions. And to get on the wrong side of them is paramount to asking for damnation. Warlocks don’t just kill their enemies. No. Warlocks are known for their dark, depraved, and petty hearts…
I catch myself mid-thought. And yet, who am I to cast judgment? Panthers are notoriously cruel. As wild cats we hunt our prey, tormenting and playing with them, often offering some semblance of hope for escape, only to snatch it away and seal the kill with heinous brutality. With claws like curved daggers, teeth like honed blades, and eyes that see flawlessly in the dark, we are amongst the most lethal hunters in all of Avalar.
Blinking, I snap myself back to the present, to the mote of horrors and the impenetrable tower before me. Even if I managed to cross the mote, not even a cat could climb such sheer rock… And so, only one option remains, I realize. The one I had hoped against hope to avoid. I must declare myself to the warlock. I must give up the element of surprise and confront Bane face to face, man to man. Returning home is not an option.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I shift into my mortal form and prepare myself for whatever comes next. “Bane!” I shout his name at the top of my lungs. “I demand an audience!” The sky above seems to thunder louder in response. The lightning flashes, illuminating the darkness and striking The Spire, its sizzling power dissipating into the reflective black stone.
“Who dares challenge Bane Umbra?”
The words boom in my mind, shaking the very core of me. My eyes grow wide and my breath hitches in my throat as a sensation like fire whispers through me, setting every nerve in its path alight. My heart races, and I frown in disbelief as much as shock. There is no mistaking the feeling that now ravages my mind, body, and soul. It’s the kind you experience only once in a lifetime—if you’re lucky. It’s the Fated mate bond. Goddess be merciful, I swear. I’m Fated to the fucking enemy!
Chapter Two
Bane
Waving a hand over my scrying pool, I observe my challenger. A lone man, but not just a man. The shimmering rainbow aura of magic encompassing him is as clear as day, betraying the truth of his nature. “A shifter,” I muse. “Interesting. What business does a wild man have with me, I wonder?” Seizing my bejeweled staff, I tap it on the black stones of my study and in the next moment I’m outside, hovering above my mote.
“And who might you be, shifter?” I ask, meeting the intruder’s gleaming emerald gaze.
The wild man holds himself tall, naked as the day he was born. His sweat slick muscles flex, reflecting the ever-changing hues of the sky, and his glossy black hair falls in chaotic ringlets to his shoulders, a spiral lock hanging errant over one eye.
My gaze trails appreciatively down his form, coming to rest upon his thick, more-than-ample package. I’d be lying to myself if I denied my immediate and inexplicable desire to touch his bronze cock. I don’t yet know if I must waste this delectable piece of man, but I have long known my penchant for men … and I wouldn’t mind being ridden by such a beautiful beast as this.
“My name is Jareth Grimclaw,” the shifter answers. “I’m the alpha of The Green Sea Pride.”
“Ah,” I say, toying wit
“You need to contain your poison,” he states, fire in his deep green eyes. “It’s encroaching on my territory and affecting the livelihood of my kind.”
I grimace, then smirk. “What a shame. And?”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t have to do anything at all.”
“You’re a warlock,” he says, derision in his voice. “Your kind love deals. So, what deal must be struck for you to maintain your borders? I’d hate to have to kill you, Bane.”
“Oh,” I say, licking my lips, intrigued. “Would you really?”
“More than you know.”
I port before him in the blink of an eye, close enough to inhale his strong, alpha musk. “What is it about you that intrigues me so?” I ask, meeting his eye.
“You don’t want to know, warlock,” he answers cryptically.
“By the Goddess, you’re a stubborn beast, aren’t you?”
Jareth Grimclaw’s brows furrow. “This is impossible,” he mutters beneath his breath.
“What is?”
“You. This situation. Will you make a deal with me, one man to another?” he presses through gritted teeth.
“You seem almost in pain, Cat. Why is that?” I pry.
The panther closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if centering himself. “Will you consider it or not?” he asks again.
“Consider containing my power? No. Never. Why should I? I am beholden to no man but myself.”
The panther smiles then, his emerald eyes darkening. “We’ll see about that.”
Sensing his seduction, I stand to meet his challenge. In the next instant, he seizes my face, crushing his lips into mine with shocking speed, the full power of his allure almost forcing me to my knees. Jareth’s strong fingers rake through my long, silver locks, stealing my breath away with the intensity of his passion.
“Goddess be merciful!” I gasp as he releases me.
Standing back, Jareth’s chest rises and falls with the heat of our kiss.
“You bloody beast!” I spit.
“I see the warlock is not so used to being taken by surprise,” says the panther, smirking, clearly pleased with himself.
“We are bound by Fate,” I breathe, seething. “You knew! And you fucking goaded me.”
Jareth shrugs nonchalantly. “I gave you the option to negotiate, Bane. You had your out, but you refused the opportunity of your own free will. It is you who forced my hand to fulfill Fate’s contract, and now you must, too.”
“You fool,” I rage, turning my back on him. “I cannot be bound to another! My deeds are too dark, my arts too lethal to risk another’s life. Have you never given any thought as to why my kind is solitary by nature? My kind deals in death and damnation, Cat. Do you want to die? Is that your wish? Because binding yourself to me is surely a death sentence.”
The panther rests his hands on his hips before cracking his knuckles and flexing his fingers—offering me little by way of understanding. “Calm yourself, lover,” he soothes, his voice dripping with sardonicism. “I intend to enjoy a long, fulfilling, and memorable reign. But know this, Fate deals in equals—in matches made whole. A Fated bond completes a union, each half balancing the other. You might be lethal, Bane Umbra, but so am I. And the fact remains that I am your alpha, and you are as beholden to me as I am to you. From now on, we’re one.”
My world narrows to the strikingly roguish face staring back at me. I want to hate him. I want to flay him alive, then string his damn pelt up on my tower for all to see. How dare he deny me my solitude? How dare he force me to care about him? But more than that, much more than that … and infinitely more maddening is having to acknowledge the overwhelming desire that has blossomed within me. I want to play with my cat. I want to dangle myself in front of him like a lure and tease him until he can’t bear it. Two can play at this game!
“So,” says Jareth, interrupting my thoughts and closing the space between us again. “What will you do now that Fate has messed with your precious and no doubt meticulous plans?”
I scowl, brushing a stubborn strand of silver hair from my eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Come now, lover. No need to be catty and contrarian. You know you want to submit to me.”
My eyes widen as the panther’s voice invades the sacred, inner most sanctum of my mind.
“For all your love of books, I would have thought you’d know a little more about all of this,” he teases. “As Fated mates we can speak to one another, mind-to-mind, even across vast distances—though just how far depends on the strength of the individuals as much as the bond between them. The stronger the mates and their connection, the greater their intimacy.”
His lips brush mine, and all thought fades as I’m distracted by their surprising softness.
“You have no idea of the fun we’re going to share together, lover…”
Chapter Three
Jareth
I snake my tongue inside Bane’s mouth, savoring the flavor of him. I taste Greenleaf, and herbal tea, spiked by some strong liquor I can’t quite put my finger on. Grabbing a fistful of his incredible silver hair, I wrap my other arm around his waist, my hand trailing down over his shimmering black robe to grope his firm ass.
Bane pulls back, pushing against my bare chest to separate us. His magnificent bright green gaze bores into my soul, and then a brilliant flare of pain sings across my cheek, leaving a delightful sting in its wake. “Oh, you’re full of dark fire,” I purr, taking a step closer. “I like it. But you realize I let you have that one, don’t you, lover?”
The warlock moves to strike again, but I catch his wrist—holding his gaze—before twisting it and dropping him to his knees in the dirt. His gaze falls from mine to what just so happens to be eye-level with him, now.
I smile down on him, and I can see that despite his resistance and fire, he thrills at my dominance. We are perfect together. Fate is never wrong. “Now,” I say, infusing my voice with an edge of danger. “We can do this here … or?”
Bane swallows, then meets my gaze once more, defiance and hunger at war within them. “My tower,” he breathes. Grasping for his fallen staff, he taps the end on the dusty earth.
In the next heartbeat, we’re ported to a dark, but surprisingly warm, candle lit room. The obsidian walls are lined with countless gold-limned books and striking cosmic artworks. Strange plants with glossy black leaves and dangling white bells spill from pots suspended from the stone-hewn rafters above. The cold, stone floor beneath our feet is covered in a variety of rugs that bear the likeness of star charts and magical symbols I can’t fathom, and then there’s the bed—if you could call it that.
“You sleep in a hammock?” I ask, glancing up at the elaborate black knot work that holds it aloft. “Of all the things you could conjure up? You chose a damn hammock?”
Still on his knees, Bane shrugs. “I like it. It’s like sleeping in a cocoon. I feel safer.”
I look back to my Fated mate and run my fingers through his hair, my heart touched by his honesty. But how could a powerful warlock feel fear? I wonder. “It’s not what I expected,” I admit. “But … I like it, too. In fact, I may just have plans for that later.” I grin, a thousand deviant thoughts tumbling over one another in my mind.
The warlock’s eyes widen, and he licks his lips, unashamedly curious.
“Now, where were we, my lover?” I ask facetiously, biting the edge of my bottom lip. “Ah, yes. You were just about to suck my big, dark cat cock.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s dark,” retorts Bane thoughtfully, eyeing it. “Your coloring reminds me of burnished bronze—gleaming gold and a sun-kissed, warm brown all at once. It’s beautiful,” he says, his attention trained upon my rapidly hardening member.
