Page 53 of Taken By The Dark Three
I close my eyes, loathing how fiercely I crave her acceptance. “I’ll keep your bargain,” I manage. “But if you toy with me, if you push me too far?—”
She lifts my chin, eyes gleaming. “You’ll what? Break me, kill me? We both know you can’t stomach that.”
She’s right. A tired laugh escapes me, hollow. “I’m already undone. Hate me if you want, but I can’t bear losing you.” My voice cracks with reluctant confession. “You hold me in your palm, Selene.”
She rolls onto her side, studying me with an unsettling gentleness. “Then don’t give me reason to discard you. Be what I need—a shield against Orthani’s tyranny, a partner who accepts my choices. If you can do that, I’ll keep returning. If not, I have other paths.”
I swallow the bitter taste of jealousy, brushing my fingers across her cheek. “Fine,” I whisper, forging an unsteady truce. “I’ll share you, but I won’t like it.”
She chuckles, eyes gleaming with that predator’s satisfaction. “I don’t care if you like it, so long as you endure. That’s enough for now.”
Silence settles, a lull in the storm. My body is exhausted, but the ache inside me refuses to fade. I shift to hold her, inhalingthe faint scent of sweat and sex. She lets me, not protesting the closeness, though her body remains coiled, ready to slip free if I show any sign of real ownership. I sense that tension in every muscle, a reminder that she belongs nowhere fully but roams every possibility at will.
A creeping guilt gnaws at my mind. Orthani’s commander, undone by a single purna’s savage independence. Part of me wonders how I’ll face the city if they realize I share her with a wanted man. Another part welcomes the challenge, savoring the swirl of danger.
At last, she shifts, sitting up. “I need to clean,” she mutters, scanning the rumpled bed. “And you probably have your duties in the morning. Guards might ask questions if they see you leaving so late.”
I sigh, sliding to the edge of the bed, searching for my discarded garments. “They can suspect what they want. It’s no secret I visit your room.” But after tonight, they might sense the difference, a new tension.
I tug on my trousers and fasten them, turning to watch her. She stands naked in the lamplight, unashamed, rummaging for a cloth to wipe the sweat from her skin. My chest tightens with longing, wanting to pull her back into bed. But a flicker in her eyes warns me not to press. This is enough. She granted me her body tonight, though she might be with Eryx come tomorrow. The notion stings, but I clamp my jaw, forcing acceptance.
With a sigh, I fasten my cuirass, stepping to the door. She glances at me over her shoulder, face impassive. “Try not to kill him in a fit of rage, Commander. You agreed to share.”
My jaw sets. “I remember,” I mutter. “No promises on being pleasant, though.”
She smirks. “Wouldn’t expect any less from you.”
A wave of complicated affection washes over me. I hate and crave her in equal measure. My mind echoes the vow: I’ll endureher multiple alliances if it means I can keep her close. Perhaps that marks me as a fool, but it’s the only path forward. “Good night, Selene,” I manage, voice raw with leftover desire.
She nods, turning away to continue cleaning. I linger a second longer, memorizing the curve of her back, the fierce tilt of her chin. Then I push out into the corridor, shutting the door behind me. The two guards from earlier snap to attention, eyes carefully averted. If they sense the tension in me, they stay silent. I walk away, fury and longing roiling through my veins, certain that tomorrow, I’ll be no less haunted by her hold on me.
As I traverse the estate, heading toward my own quarters, I reflect on how I’ve conceded more than any Orthani code would allow. I let her slip between my arms and Eryx’s. Yet I feel a savage sense of triumph that she still chooses me at all, that we collided in that moment of brutal, unrestrained passion. She might share herself with Eryx, but she hasn’t forsaken me fully.
And so I accept the impossible: She’s never going to be mine alone. I can’t tame her. Yet in letting her roam free, I might keep her coming back, a force of chaos that I paradoxically need. My chest aches with the knowledge that there’s no returning to the stern commander I was before her. The city might devour me for this weakness, but I no longer care if it means losing her.
Outside my door, I pause, exhaling a shaky breath. A guard posted there salutes. I bark an order to be left alone. The guard departs, leaving me in silence. Entering my chamber, I slump onto my bed, mind swirling. I recall the scene in that safehouse, how Eryx pinned her, how she cried out in pleasure. An acid wave of jealousy churns, but I quell it by remembering the savage heat she shared with me tonight. If she dares let me slip from her orbit, I’ll fight to reclaim that spark.
At last, exhaustion claims me. I lie in the dark, body still humming from our frantic coupling, mind alive with the vow I made: I’ll share her. I’ll accept that she’s not my exclusivepartner. My sense of control is undone, replaced by a precarious alliance built on raw lust and the city’s looming battles. Ai remains a hostage in Orthani’s deeper labyrinth, Zareth recovers from his attempted enslavement, Eryx readies sabotage, and I stand in the center, unraveling.
I wonder how far I’ll go to keep her returning to me. Maybe it’s best I not dwell on the answer. As sleep overtakes me, her voice lingers: “You’ll share me… or lose me.” And I realize with a hollow ache that I’d rather share her than lose her. The city can brand me a traitor or a weak fool, but I can’t resist the fierce intoxication of her presence. Tomorrow, I’ll rise and maintain Orthani’s facade of order. Tonight, though, I surrender to the chaotic hunger that binds me to Selene, no matter how painful it becomes.
19
SELENE
The night of Orthani’s grand gala arrives, and I stand before a tall mirror in a borrowed dressing chamber, heart pounding with a mix of daring and nervous tension. The estate belongs to some minor noble whose name I barely recall, but all that matters is that I have a quiet spot to shape my magic. Outside, the city’s elite gather in a grand hall, eager to flaunt their finery and jostle for favor in the eyes of Orthani’s upper caste. Tonight, I plan to twist that spectacle into a silent quake they’ll never forget.
I exhale slowly, calling upon the stirring energy in my blood. My transformative gift. A faint hum vibrates under my skin, like an echo from a distant realm. Transformative magic is a craft of subtlety and finesse—I need the right nuance to mimic the figure I’ve chosen. The Red Purna taught me the fundamentals: illusions of the flesh, though I was forced to refine them alone after their betrayal. Now, I stand here, determined to harness every skill to manipulate Orthani’s court from within.
On a small table at my side, a worn parchment depicts the noblewoman I plan to impersonate: Lady Irena Veloras, rumored to have lived centuries past. She was executed forharboring a purna in her family estate, if the legends are accurate. Since then, her name lingers in hushed stories—some claim her spirit haunts Orthani, awaiting vengeance. Perfect fodder for my stunt. If rumors hold, Zareth’s lineage once clashed with her, intensifying the dread her memory might still carry.
I stare into the mirror, letting out a slow breath. My reflection is my own: dark hair pinned up, a sleek black gown hugging my figure, my usual features hinting at the rebellious purna beneath. But with purposeful concentration, I focus on each detail of Lady Irena’s portrait. Silvery hair sweeping over her shoulders, skin tinged with a pale glow, sharp cheekbones. I murmur an incantation, feeling a ripple of arcane tension spread across my body. It’s a precarious weaving, because Orthani’s wards might sense a spike in magic if I’m not careful.
Gradually, my skin lightens to that eerie pallor, my hair shifts hue, each strand elongating until it cascades down my back in shimmering silver. My face morphs—eyes adopting the same haunting shade the legends describe. The shape of my jaw, the arch of my brow, all realign to replicate Lady Irena’s rumored visage. My heart races at the strain, but I grin when I glimpse the final product: a ghostlike beauty, regal yet unsettling, exactly what I intend to unleash upon Orthani’s unsuspecting court.
I run my palms over the gown—dark velvet with an embroidered silver crest at the waist. A subtle flourish hints at Lady Irena’s ancient house sigil. The transformation complete, I whisper a final stabilization incantation, ensuring my new face holds under close scrutiny. My breath trembles, half from excitement, half from dread. If Zareth recognizes me beneath the transformation, it might spark a confrontation. But that’s precisely the chaos I want to sow.
Stepping out into the corridor, I find a single guard posted—borrowed from Vaelith’s circle. He doesn’t recognize me, ofcourse, startled by the spectral figure who emerges. “Miss? Are you… lost?” he stammers.
