Darkness Embraced Page 5

  Frustrated with herself and her inability of late to stop thinking about the Ajax, Ivy finished sweeping and moved to put the broom away. Common belief was that with time, memories faded. However, Ivy felt that with each day she spent more and more time consumed with thoughts of him. What must he have thought when he woke to find her gone, knowing she had drugged him? Did he think of her still? Did he hate her?

  Ivy shook her head. She had way too much prepping to do before nightfall and couldn’t afford to be distracted. The Doves depended on Ivy to ensure that they and their rooms were perfectly presentable when clients came calling. And come calling they would, as soon as dusk gave way to dark. She did a quick inventory of each Dove’s room, and made final preparations to ensure each was ready. Not only did they need to be clean, but they also each had certain specifications that had to be met.

  Today Morganza asked that the mirror from her vanity table be placed directly at the foot of her bed and for her usual white fur counterpane to be replaced with one of a dark ebony. Folley, the newest Dove of the house, who had a sweet smile and shoulder-length curls of a color that she changed from week to week, asked that her sheerest negligee be laid out and that sage candles be lit around the room. And the black-haired seductress named Sloane, by far the most infamous of all the Doves, and Ivy’s closest friend, asked for handcuffs and a flask of wine.

  “The handcuffs are for him but the wine is for me,” she joked. Ivy knew that Sloane hid much behind her constant jokes and sardonic comments. But her friend hadn’t yet seen fit to share her secrets. Which was just fine with Ivy, since she had secrets of her own.

  Every female under this roof had their burdens to bear. They all had their own reasons for ending up in a place like this and more often than not it wasn’t because life had been kind. But many of the women managed to find their own kind of contentment here, some like Morganza even happiness. On the Dark Isle there were much worse things than being a Dove.

  That was mainly due to the owner of the brothel, a middle-aged woman named Cassia Dracus. Cassia worked hard to ensure that Doves was as safe, clean, and sophisticated as a Dominion brothel could be. She wasn’t overly warm but she made up for it in fairness and generosity. Ivy had been a recipient of just such generosity when Cassia found her, exhausted and hungry, skulking through the street market in Dimm trying to steal food. Cassia took her in, no questions asked, and provided food and a warm bed.

  When the time came, Cassia broached the subject of Ivy working at Doves. Ivy explained that she very much wished to remain but couldn’t bear the thought of giving herself to strange men. Cassia simply nodded, her large dark eyes studying Ivy, and the next day they came up with a mutually beneficial position at the brothel that Ivy could perform. She took care of the details that Cassia hated and in return Cassia provided a small salary and a basement room for Ivy.

  Satisfied that all the rooms were ready for the night, Ivy headed down the stairs toward the parlor area, where all the Doves would be gathered in anticipation of the moon’s rise. She always allowed herself a few moments of camaraderie with the Doves before the clients started arriving and it was time for her to fade into the shadows.

  “I’ll take over the pouring, Vette, you have a seat and relax,” Ivy said as walked into the room.

  Vette, an aggressive but fun Dove, set the wine bottle down and immediately moved from behind the corner bar, with a flick of stick-straight sable hair. “I thought you’d never get here, Ivy, they were being so demanding I thought I’d reach out a hand to serve and come back with a nub.” She grinned as she sat on a small loveseat next to Morganza. All the Doves were gathered in the parlor, except Cambria who was taking the night off, and the room was already boisterous and full of laughter.

  “Thank Gods, Ivy,” Sloane said from her perch on a barstool, “Vette has no appreciation for wine, what with her being from bone-dry Charron. Her pours were stingy to say the least.”

  The whole room chuckled at that and nodded in agreement. Vette responded with an obscene gesture.

  Ivy grinned as she topped off her friend’s glass. “That’s what I’m here for. Pours for whores.” There was a collective groan from the room at the repeated joke.

  Sloane looked as seductive as ever, her long ebony hair laying in waves over one shoulder and her eyes generously made up with thick dark make-up. Her strapless leather top showed off sleek arms, one of which was covered from wrist to shoulder in intricate tattoos. She took a long gulp of wine and said, “Bugger yourself, Black.”

  “Is tonight gonna be the night you decide to spread ’em, Ivy?” Porsha called from the corner where she leaned against the wall. She grinned, as this was common ritual amongst them. Someone would inevitably joke about Ivy being initiated as a Dove and then everyone piled on.

  “Ooh, yes, I think it should be. I’ll even be generous enough to donate my man to the cause. He’s a Reaper and he’s gorgeous!” Folley volunteered cheerily. She sat on the barstool next to Sloane twirling her curly hair, which was currently a shade of blue.

  Ivy noticed Hollis, the burly doorman and security guard for Doves, glance heatedly into the parlor at Folley’s words from his position at the entrance. It might have escaped Folley’s notice, but Ivy realized long ago that the quiet man had feelings for Folley that went beyond just the surly brother-like protection he showed everyone else.

  “I’m not volunteering. My date tonight is a riverman I’ve only seen once before and he is delicious! I can’t wait to pounce on him,” someone else said.

  “I’m not giving up mine either. He’s hung like a dragon, big and hot,” came the sarcastic reply from the loveseat.

  “If I’ve asked once I’ve asked a million times. Can we not refer to sexual organs in the parlor?” Ivy beseeched in mock despair. A chorus of laughter erupted in response. And so the conversation continued for several minutes until Ivy held her hands up in defeat.

  “I’m good, thank you. At least until I meet a man who can live up to the fantasy.” Ivy set the empty wine bottle aside and began uncorking another as she listened to the murmurs around the room. She made herself busy with the task hoping no one in the room would notice the wistfulness in her voice.

  “What about that village guardsman who has a crush on you, Ivy?” Folley asked innocently. “He’s asked to court you like a dozen times. Why do you refuse him?”

  Ivy shuddered at the thought of Gerard. The guardsman seemed kind enough at first, when she met him in the village one day a few moon cycles back, but in the months that followed, as her polite but firm refusals to see him started to wear, she saw a hard man behind the kindly visage he projected. His eyes were cold and the fact that he would not take no for an answer bothered Ivy.

  “Many men would not claim a female who worked in a whorehouse, you know,” he told her icily the last time he hounded her in the village when she had gone to pickup Cassia’s herbs from the apothecary. “I would be doing you a favor.”

  She finally lost her patience with him at that, and told him in no uncertain terms that he would never have her. “There is something about him I do not like,” she told the group, not wanting to go into detail about her uncomfortable encounter with Gerard.

  Dredd’s eyes were never cold when he gazed upon you, the nagging voice in her head reminded her for the thousandth time.

  “I’d kill to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  Ivy glanced over to see Sloane assessing her with a penetrating gaze. “Oh you know. This and that.” They rarely discussed their pasts. It was a kind of an unspoken bond between them, most things from before their time at Doves were best left alone.

  “Really?” Sloane cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you might be thinking of someone named Dredd. I came down to your room the other night to chat after my shift but you were already asleep. As I was leaving I heard you talking in your sleep. And you sounded happy if you get my drift.”

  Ivy blushed. “I was? I mean, I was. Yes...er...I had an unc
le named Dredd when I was a girl. He…uh…he was always nice to me. Passed away a long time ago.” She made herself busy wiping down the bar, knowing full well that Sloane saw through her lie.

  Sloane smirked and took a sip of her wine. “Oh sure, an uncle. And I have three tits.”

  ****

  The Round, Beast of Blood Sport Tournament Arena

  Just outside the Village of Dimm

  The late afternoon sun shone bright in the sky, the day still unseasonably warm. Sweat glistened on Dredd’s body as he pivoted to avoid the sharp sword of his opponent, then countered with a thrust of his own. He planted his feet on the dusty ground of the arena, readying for victory. Today’s exercise was simply practice, to prepare for the Tournament in a few days time, so instead of the killing blow he would normally deliver, Dredd’s goal was simply to draw first blood. He twisted his blade, using the hilt in a blow to Barren’s face, and then flipped the sword to cut along his opponent’s upper arm, a superficial wound.

  “Damn, Dredd! Did you have to almost break my bloody nose?” Gryphon complained, conceding defeat by dropping his sword then grabbing his face.

  “It seemed you aimed that last sword-strike at my manhood, I did not wish to take chances,” Dredd replied gruffly. They both knew that Gryphon would never best Dredd in combat, or even come close, Dredd’s skill and strength being far superior and Gryphon being new to the arena, but Dredd did not wish to add insult to injury. He genuinely liked Gryphon, which was a rare thing. “Some healing herbs from the Crone will have you right as rain. Go see her now and get that scratch bandaged too.”

  Gryphon chuckled. “If all Ajax are assholes like you, may I never meet another.”

  Both men headed for the covered corridor that exited the arena and led toward the barracks, breaking for the day. When they reached the barracks, Gryphon headed down the left hallway, where the training staff would reside during their stay, while Dredd headed right. He walked up the stairs and down the hallway. Dredd always received a larger chamber than the other Beasts of Blood Sport, one separate from and more well-appointed than the others.

  Never in the history of Dominion had a Beast of Sport remained as Champion for more than a few moon cycles’ time, much less the over one annum that Dredd had reigned as The Undefeated. The Magister, Dredd’s Beast Master, reveled in the money and popularity that Dredd’s arena performances continued to bestow upon them. There was nothing the man refused Dredd should he ask it. He had the best training facilities, the best quarters, and could have all the women he wanted though he never asked. The Magister’s giving spirit had increased ten-fold lately, since Dredd’s contract was nearing termination again, the man surely hoping to negotiate yet another extension. Therefore, Dredd’s chamber here in Dimm, which they had arrived at a day prior, was fit for a king.

  Dredd entered his chamber, and looked around in bemusement, after all this time still not quite able to get used to the wasteful luxuries. Brightly colored silk bedding and pillows in abundance on a bed that could easily accommodate six Ajax, plush rugs covering the cold stone floors, a sideboard filled with twelve different varieties of wines and ales, and his large copper bathing tub in the corner, the one The Magister had specially made for Dredd’s large frame over an annum ago. Dredd still felt out of place in such surroundings, and often thought of a simple fur blanket beneath a starry sky in the woods. But then, he was reminded of those few short days, when he had shared the furs with her, his mate...

  Dredd gritted his teeth. She was why he was here after all. In the moon cycles after her betrayal, when he had crossed the River Byrne in search of her, as few Ajax had ever done, he met The Magister. And his fates had changed.

  Dredd set his blade down on the table by the bed, and removed his belt to lay beside it. He reached for the pitcher of water nearby, taking several deep gulps. He trained for hours today, knowing the next tournament could prove unexpected. Though he doubted there was an opponent alive truly capable of besting him, lest another Ajax warrior was in the arena, he knew the tournament organizers were constantly trying to come up with new ways to defeat the Ajax Champion of Dominion. New weapons, new training, multiple opponents; who knew what they would come up with at this tourney.

  The Magister was a cold and calculating man, Dredd knew as much. He occasionally indulged in the requests of other Beast Masters when they asked to fight Dredd two on one or three on one if the price was right. He was in the business of making money, and he constantly calculated the risk versus the benefits of each battle. Dredd did not particularly like The Magister, and did not respect him as a man, but they had a business arrangement, and Dredd never balked. Most days, he welcomed the challenge. The tournaments were the only thing that took his mind off of her.

  Ivy...

  There were two advantages to his new life as a Beast, two reasons why he had chosen it. The first was the distraction it provided. Warring was a way of life for Dredd, and getting paid to do what came naturally to him calmed him, had been the only thing that kept him from losing his sanity completely in the early days.

  The second advantage, and more important, was the easy ability to travel across Dominion, enabling his search for her. The searching had become an obsession for him, the very thing that drove him to the brink of madness.

  And it was the madness that required the battles in the arena to sooth it, a vicious cycle. Dredd knew he was at cross purposes with himself, yet had accepted the precarious balancing act his life had become.

  His obsession with Ivy went from desire to lust to rage to an ache deep within his chest and back again. She had become a missing piece in the puzzle that was Dredd, and until he found her again he could not rest. He said good-bye to his old life as an Ajax, and had been surprised at how easy that was. But then again there was no love lost as he walked away from a people who had shut him out years before anyway. But in leaving the Ajax behind he lost another part of himself, and soon there would be nothing left. Nothing but a mindless beast who existed only in the arena, destroying everything in its path.

  Dredd wasn’t even sure anymore how he would react if he did find her. His obsession left little room for reason. A small part of him understood why Ivy did what she did, and even admired her for it. But the rest of him seethed. Sometimes he almost hoped he’d never find Ivy. Because he couldn’t be sure what he would do, and the idea of hurting her destroyed him.

  Chapter 6

  “It comes!”

  Ivy covered her ears as the piercing shrieks of villagers rent the air. Produce carts upturned and tables flew aside as people scattered in every direction trying to escape the street market. Having come to the village to visit said street market, Ivy turned to Sloane in utter confusion. And apprehension. She heard those two panicked words once before. “What in the Gods’ names is happening?”

  Sloane, calm amid the chaos, grabbed Ivy’s hand and began moving with a purpose. As they struggled to wind their way through the crowd, villagers rammed into them repeatedly, shouldering past them in the opposite direction.

  “If one more person steps on my blasted feet, heads are going to roll,” Sloane yelled above the noise, annoyance rather than fear causing her to be rough as she shoved Ivy behind a large overturned table that had been laden with vegetables just moments before.

  Sloane always cloaked herself in an air of “I don’t give a damn.” Just moments earlier, when they entered the market, a few village women stared down their noses at Sloane and one even spat out, “Filthy whore.” Sloane kept her chin raised, gifting the woman with a retort that would no doubt have her ears ringing for weeks.

  “Get down.”

  Ivy did as Sloane instructed, relieved to be out of the claustrophobia of the undulating crowd in the market. She could still hear villagers screaming and could occasionally make out the words over the accompanying bangs and thuds as doors were slammed and windows shuttered. She heard “beast” and “arena.”

  “Sloane, why are they so frightened? And
why aren’t we running too?” Ivy whispered, peering over the table to look out at the street that was quickly becoming deserted. “Did you hear what they were saying?”

  “I heard,” Sloane answered as she crawled on her hands and knees scooping up discarded produce from the ground and shoving it in her knapsack. “All their wailing means we won’t be paying for our food today.” She grinned and held up a fresh potato.

  The bangs of doors shutting and locking were suddenly drowned out by much louder sounds coming from the other end of the street. These sounds had chills running up and down Ivy’s spine. Because they sounded like roars.

  “Sloane,” Ivy croaked and reached for her friend.

  “It’s okay, Ivy. It’s the Undefeated Ajax. Haven’t you heard the tales?” Sloane reached over and gave Ivy a reassuring slug on the arm.

  Ivy shook her head slowly, unease snaking up her spine.

  “Do you live under a rock? He’s the Beast of Blood Sport that everyone has been speaking of. He’s been champion longer than any other, no one can best him. He arrived in Dimm for the tournament.”

  Ivy sat frozen, unable to respond as her mind raced.

  “These stupid villagers will clamor to see him in the arena but quake with fear at the thought of him outside of it. Normally they treat all the Beasts as if they are royalty. But not him. They say he is more monster than man, filled with a hunger for blood that no amount of killing can quench.” Sloane wiggled her eyebrows.

  An Ajax. Could it be?

  Fear lanced through her at the thought. No, no it couldn’t be him. Dredd would surely never leave the woods. But there was a piece of her, a part deep inside her that warmed with excitement at the possibility...

  “An Ajax?” Ivy shrieked at her friend.

  “I’m sure he’s come to the street market for the food. Novel idea,” Sloane explained so casually she might as well have been discussing the weather. “While I’m sure he’s not above eating a villager or two, the fruit is a lot less muss and fuss. Though all this incessant shrieking and wailing probably makes him think twice. The damn crybabies are—” She was cut off as a ground-rattling roar ripped through the air.