The Daughter Of Lava (#3 Reclaimed Souls Series) (4 page)

Two muscular bodies glisten in the darkness. I’ve never seen two men make love, and I wasn’t about to stop watching.

Six

I
WONDER
IF
J
AUCEY
actually cares for his lover. His movements are tender, sweet, loving. After a few moments, the men collapse together, kiss, and I hear murmurs of pillow talk.

Both their feet dangle over the edge of the bed and, for some reason, I find this to be a rather endearing image that may stay with me awhile.
 

I crawl back against the wall, behind a few layers of vertical sheets, as they stir and leave the bed. A light in a side room light flicks on, a shower starts, and, after a few minutes, lovemaking sounds waft out. What an insatiable couple.

As they do this, I open my purse, pull out the coral lipstick, and apply it heavily. Up until now, it never occurred to me that I might not succeed in seducing Lord Jaucey. I’d come in, slide into his bed, and promptly make him forget about life itself as I slivered up and down his body, kissing every inch, until the poison finally took hold.

Actual sex may or may not have happened by then. Usually not, though.

Now, as the current situation is presented to me, I can see how it may not be as easy as it has been in the past. Lord Jaucey may not be attracted to women.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice whispers intimately into my ear.

I jump about ten feet. Then I punch the person in the chest as hard as I can and instantly regret it as the stitches in my shoulder rip open.

“Ouch!” the voice says harmlessly.
 

Roland!
 

What the—? I swallow hard, the gulp burns my throat as my heart wants to pound its way out of my body through my esophagus.
 

“You scared the shit out of me,” I hiss at him. Then I get stupid mad. “You followed me! How dare you!”
 

He sits down, rubbing his chest through the shirt. That’s when I notice he isn’t wearing a fabriskin robe or anything to cover his face. Just plain old clothing. As if he came in a hurry.

“And here I thought you’d be happy to see me, but I can see you have other plans,” he says, and I can tell he’s smiling for some idiotic reason. “Um, so, what are your plans, exactly? Because this is an odd place to just hang out.”

I smirk, knowing he can’t really see my expression. Or maybe he can. He lives in a dark, dark palace.

“I wanted to get as far away from you as possible and thought that your uncle’s house would be an ideal spot.”
 

“By watching him have sex with one of his servants?”

My eyes round.

“That was a servant? He seemed so…”
affectionate
. I halt. I won’t let him change the subject. “Why are you here?”

He shrugs. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Nothing’s obvious with you, Roland.”

“When it comes to you, I should be. However, I’m trying
very hard
to not be jealous right now. You’re in Jaucey’s bedroom, Rahda. What do you hope to accomplish? Jaucey isn’t a fool. He’ll figure out why you are here.”

“Shhh! I think the water just shut off.”

“Are you wearing lipstick?”

“Are you deaf? I have a job to do. Jaucey needs to be eliminated before he destroys Skyscraper City.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Would you rather take care of it?” I ask.

“Yes, but not by using your methods,” Roland says without malice or judgment. Then he adds, “It might be awkward.”

“I look at it this way: which of us will have the greater success?”

A pause.

“Alright,” he concedes. “But I’m not going anywhere just in case.

“No matter what happens, promise me that you will not interfere.”

I can tell that he will not promise any such thing, but at that moment, Jaucey and his lover step out of the steaming bathroom, each draped in towels. The servant picks up a pile of clothes I didn’t see earlier and leaves the master suite without so much as a goodbye.
 

Jaucey saunters back to the room, tosses the towel on the floor carelessly, and, with a satisfied sigh, he gets into bed.
 

I stand up. I can hear Roland’s silent comments. Well, one comment,
I’m not exactly thrilled with your plan, Rahda.
Carefully I disrobe, depositing the clothing with Roland, who fumes even more with each layer that I give to him.

I know that this kills him. It’d kill me in reverse. I have a notion that if he could get away with it, he’d haul me up on his shoulders and carry me away. He couldn’t get away with it. I know it. He knows it. Somewhere, deep inside of him, he trusts me. Even when everything in his heart screams
Deceit! Betrayal! Bitch!
he won’t stop me. And because of this, I know he’ll never stop me from doing anything.

Even if it means freedom from him. Not being near him.

Even if it means that, as I walk away from him and slip into Jaucey’s bed, destroying his heart a million times over, he knows that he never has and never will own me.

Seven

H
IS
BACK
IS
TO
me as I slip in between silky sheets and twine my legs with his.

Jaucey stirs.
 

“My love, back for thirds?” Lord Jaucey chuckles sleepily. “You naughty boy. In a little bit, we can watch the fires.”

I press my body against his back. I feel him stiffen. Obviously his lover did not own breasts. I lift a leg, sliding it up and down his, up to his hip, then hook the heel of my foot inside his knee, pulling it back toward me. Then I glide my right hand over his front section.

“Hello, Jaucey,” I breathe into his ear, kissing it, licking it, nibbling on it.
 

He’s now on his back as I march kisses over his jaw, depositing as much of the lipstick as I can, and finally, even though I don’t have to, my lips cover his as he moans into my mouth.

His lips are surprisingly soft.

“Rahda?” he asks. His eyes are round, alert, and instantly focused on me as he sort of pushes me away. “Never in a million years would I have expected you to be in my bed.” His eyes narrow. “What do you want?” His eyes lower down my body, then, without missing a beat, his hand is on me.

I hear a low growl from the edge of the room.

If I don’t make this quick, Roland’s going to kill the both of us.

“I want you to call off the attack,” I say honestly. He looks deep into my eyes, and, with surprising gentleness, a finger glides over the gash in my cheek. “Jaucey, I’ll do anything you want if you call it off.
Anything
.”

A cruel smile touches his face. A coral lipstick trail dots from his ear to his mouth, the color a little smudged there.

“Any…
thing
?” he repeats a little too callously. “Dangerous words, Rahda. Does Rexus know you’re here?”

“No.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, still smiling. “Too bad. I’d love for him to know about this.”

Suddenly he bounces up, grabs me by the shoulders—searing into my wound—and I refuse to cry out as I find myself flat on the bed and Jaucey hovering over me.

He wobbles a bit but recovers quickly. In a few minutes, he won’t.

“This is between you and me, not Roland,” I say once his hands are no longer on my shoulders. I can feel the blood seeping from my right shoulder. “Call off the attack and you can have me. All night. I don’t care what you do. But I will walk away from here alive, well, and unharmed.”
And you will not.

“Where’s the fun in that, my
Queen
Rahda?”

He bites me and I cry out. Teeth marks marble my skin once he lets up and moves down my body. Every part of my body that he touches wants to shrivel and die. But I have a job to do, no matter how repulsive. All I have to do is wait out the poison.

“Call off the attack,” I say between cries. I look up and see Roland at the edge of the bed. He’s within striking distance of Jaucey. “Don’t you dare do anything,” I say out loud to Roland, but knowing Jaucey will think I’m talking to him. Roland’s eyes bore into me. After this, I doubt he’ll ever talk to me.

“Too late. The order’s already given.” His head lifts up and his lips curl sadistically. “In an hour or so, an army from Hades Rock will destroy Skyscraper City, hopefully with Rexus still inside of it.” Jaucey rubs his eyes and then shakes his head. He blinks repeatedly, then bites the inside of my thigh. I kick him in the legs, but he only laughs. “You’re a feisty one, I see. I plan to keep you here all night, just as you deliciously offered, so you can’t warn him of his impending doom.”

Roland’s chest rises and falls fast, his nostrils flared.

“Why?” I ask.

“Why not!” he declares, sitting up. “He’s too stupid for his own good. Renouncing the thrown and then naming
you
the successor was rather brilliant, but foolish. I didn’t think he’d do it so soon, not before a wedding. As if I’d change my mind. I’m not the monster. Your future husband is,” he states emphatically. “He’s known my demands for years and yet he still defied me even after knowing what I’d do to his city, his home, and those imbecile citizens he cherishes when he gave the kingdom to
you
.”

My mind races. “Are you saying you knew that, at some point, he’d give the kingdom to me?”

Jaucey rolls his eyes. “This is rather comic, don’t you think? You, of all people, asking me that,” he tsks just as his face twitches. “You don’t know, do you? This is priceless. The Sacred Soul doesn’t know who she is.” His mouth curves at an odd angle, sort of like it’s been hooked and yanked sideways. “What the hell?” he asks, his voice strangled, startled. “What have you done?” His fingers curl, like he wants to strike or scratch me, and they freeze in that manner. Jaucey looks at them as if he’s never seen fingers or hands before. His unblinking eyes settle on me. “Oh, Goddess, what have you done? You’ve ruined
everything
.” His last sentence is barely audible.

“Where will the army strike?” I ask, but it’s useless to ask questions now. Jaucey isn’t in any state to reply. By now his vocal cords will have become paralyzed.
 

I slide out from underneath him. At this point, he couldn’t hurt a fly unless he fell over and landed on one. I push him down onto the bed and roll him over face up. His hands still point upward and his knees are locked. I press down on the knees until they’re flat. Same with the arms.
 

This is how he’ll be found in the morning.

Roland steps forward into view and Jaucey’s eyes round like saucers.

“Poison?” Roland asks me. “Was it in the lipstick?”

“Yes,” I answer quietly. “I’d say he has only a minute or two left.”

Roland leans down and whispers something into his uncle’s ear that I cannot hear. When he pulls away, Jaucey slightly shakes his head—the only movement he can make—and gurgles a few non-words. However, it seems to satisfy Roland nonetheless.

He stands beside me, statue-like, not touching me. Not looking at me. Not acknowledging me.

I don’t have the time nor the inclination to feel guilty. I find my clothing and get dressed. Then, without warning, a boiling-like fever spreads through me, settling into my chest. At first I think it is some type of poison or illness, but it closely resembles the sense of evil I felt before, and once the feeling passes, I recover quickly and return to Jaucey’s bedside. I check his pulse.

Nothing.

“You have no idea of what he could have done to you,” Roland says, looking at me somewhat cautiously. “Aside from my father, Jaucey’s probably the cruelest son of a bitch I know.”

“And now he’s the deadest son of a bitch you know,” I say. “Took seven minutes. I should clean him up before we leave.”

I retrieve a damp cloth from the bathroom and wipe the coral hue from his face.

“He could have slaughtered you in two minutes, Rahda.” His voice is strained, strangled, and filled with so much hurt that I flinch.

“No, he wouldn’t. Jaucey was different.”

He lets out a short breath. “How was he different?” Of course, the question he doesn’t ask is
How many have you done this to?
Maybe he already knows.

“He was too interested in causing
you
pain, not me. Even before the poison fully took hold and after he saw you, I would bet everything in the known universe that he felt it was worth it, knowing that you saw me underneath him, that he tasted me, that he knew
you
knew that he’d be the reason for your downfall tonight.” I pause, thinking he might say something, but he doesn’t. “What’d he mean earlier, about you giving the throne to me earlier than he expected? Why would he think I’m the Sacred Soul?”
 

“What do you know about the Sacred Soul?” he asks quietly.

“That it’s a myth. But,” I say holding up my hands when it looks like he wants to contradict me, “my mother told me that the Sacred Soul is one of the Goddess’s protectors and that she—the protectors are always female—acts as a balance between good and evil.”

“Your mother, the High Priestess, said this?”

I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows the truth—he said he knew everything about me—but it still unnerves me when he says the words
High Priestess
out loud.
 

“Yes, but she never said anything about who the Sacred Soul was, least of all that it was me.”

Roland looks pointedly at me, as if I proved his theory. “What if she told you, but you weren’t listening?”

The truth is I hardly ever listened to her. “Wait a minute… are you saying you think it’s true? That you think I’m the Sacred Soul?” My eyes narrow.

“I do, actually,” he says without the slightest hesitation. “What the Sacred Soul can or cannot do is a mystery, but from the moment I met you, I could tell that you were different. Special. Your family is in hiding, your mother is a High Priestess—perhaps even the last High Priestess—and you’re a direct female descendant in the Sevradan line. It all fits.”

A few things begin to make sense. One of which is the
main
reason Roland Rexus summoned me. If he thinks I’m the Sacred Soul, then he plans to use me to win this war knocking on our doorstep.