Page 31 of Dark Shadow of Guilt

Now, this human female threatened his detachment. She was a light in his dark world, but he craved the stormy night skies, the shadows, and the dim corridors. They protected his heart. Never again would he leave it unguarded.

Dom turned from the doorway to trudge into the salon, where he jammed on his boots and shrugged into the him-but-not-him persona. Snapping his fingers, he extinguished the flames in the fireplace. Then, fully dressed, his sword in its sheath, two knives strapped to hip holsters, his alter ego in control, he soared out the roof and sped toward his destination. Best to keep things real.

Chapter Nine

Vast, OneWorld

Indigo sat a step below the OneCreator’s throne, one leg extended straight, the other bent and an arm wrapped around it. Her long, flowered skirt pooled around her. She had tamed her black curly hair by twisting it into a braid which reached her ass. Around her neck, resting between her breasts, was an amethyst necklace.

She rocked back and forth. She was on a mission.

Roark waited at the bottom of the steps, his hands clasped behind his back. A proper assassin with good posture and a respect for the distance between himself and the OC.

The OneCreator, ruler of OneWorld, preened bare-chested on his ornate throne decorated with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. At six feet nine inches, the delicious hunk of male outshone the embedded gems. His golden hair flowed like a waterfall beyond his shoulders, and his nose was as regal as his stone-chiseled jaw. His purple eyes reflected the mysteries of the universe. Not as handsome as Roark, but a head-turner nonetheless. He propped elbow on his leather-panted thigh, resting his chin in his palm.

Indigo aimed for flattery. After all, he was male. “You look good in blue, OC.”

He straightened and smiled, fingering the sleeve of his silky shirt. “I do indeed.” His brow-scrunched gaze said he questioned Indigo’s choice of places to sit.

Since she didn’t work for him, she didn’t care. Besides, she saw her job as ruffling his royal feathers.

“Why exactly are you bothering me?” he asked.

Indigo glanced at Roark. It was clear her mate was letting her roast alone. The trip here had been her idea. Not his.

“My Roark...”

“Who’s Roark?” asked throne-guy.

She crinkled her forehead. “Ohngel. Roark. Samey-same. You know who I mean. Don’t play dumb.”

The OC leaned forward. “Why do you insist on calling him by the wrong name?”

“Why do you insist on pretending you don’t know who I’m talking about?” When he glared, she said, “You win. He was Roark when I met him and Roark when I fell in love with him. Okay?”

“So, your Ohngel...”

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