The Dove & the Darkness (Ceasefire Series book 5) Read online

  The Dove & the Darkness

  Claire Marta

  Copyright © 2020 by Claire Marta

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.

  Disclaimer: Please do not try any sexual practice without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor the author will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from the use of the information contained in this book.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Cassandra

  2. Soren

  3. Cassandra

  4. Soren

  5. Cassandra

  6. Soren

  7. Cassandra

  8. Soren

  9. Cassandra

  10. Soren

  11. Soren

  12. Cassandra

  13. Soren

  14. Cassandra

  15. Soren

  16. Cassandra

  17. Soren

  18. Cassandra

  19. Soren

  20. Cassandra

  21. Cassandra

  22. Soren

  23. Cassandra

  24. Soren

  25. Cassandra

  26. Soren

  27. Cassandra

  28. Soren

  29. Cassandra

  30. Cassandra

  31. Soren

  32. Cassandra

  33. Soren

  34. Cassandra

  35. Soren

  Epilogue

  The Dove & the darkness Playlist

  Follow Me Here:

  About the Author

  Also by Claire Marta

  Prologue

  Staring out from the window of my bedroom, my eyes follow the bird in flight. A little red robin. The beat of its wings calms the turbulence in my mind. All the images playing in a messy loop and the voices that talk nonstop. They started as a whisper. Faint and distant, only growing in volume like a TV I can’t shut off. Then the dreams come but when I’m awake.

  The garden below vanishes, and I see a sea of red flowers. Poppies spread out like a colorful quilt. Things shift, and on a high mountain, two lovers entwined, plunging to the rocks beneath. A green-eyed man hunts for a rare and deadly flower. Howls pierce the frozen snow, three wolves on the prowl for a wayward mate.

  Mamma moans loudly from the next room bringing me back to reality. Even at six years old, I recognized that it’s not with pain.

  My worn, thin duvet draped around my shoulders like a superhero’s cape, I curl further into the corner of the windowsill, my attention staying with the feathered bird.

  I’m forbidden to go to her. Not while she’s entertaining the man in there.

  He isn’t my Daddy.

  None of her friends who visit her are.

  Mamma said he was a bad man.

  A monster.

  One who can never find us, because if he did, he’d bring us nothing but pain.

  Markaz the name is whispered through my head. You are a demon born child.

  It’s the voice I’ve heard a few times before. The one that scares me. An adult who shouldn’t be there.

  Blocking it out, my stomach twists with hunger and a whine escapes my lips. I can’t remember the last time I ate. There’s no food in the kitchen. Mamma forgot to shop again. She’s always forgetting to buy things.

  Her words still echo in my head from the other night. Her breath had been heavy with the smell of her drink, which made my nose wrinkle with its funny scent.

  Baby girl, there will always be people who want to use you for your gifts. They’ll be nice to you. Buy you pretty things, but all they want in the end is what you can do. Your visions. Freaks like us don’t ever find real love. We get used until we can give no more, and then we get discarded.

  Attention straying toward my door, I find the man Mamma was seeing standing on the threshold buckling up his belt before tugging up the zipper on his trousers.

  With one quick sweep of his gaze, he takes in my bare room before observing me with cold, calculating green eyes. “Do you know who I am, child?”

  He’s the same man I’d seen in my head moments ago. The one looking for a pretty flower.

  I shake my head solemnly.

  “My name is Lucifer. I was told you can see things.”

  I don’t speak. Don’t move. He’s not supposed to be here. Mamma doesn’t let her friends linger for long, and I’m not supposed to talk to them. I’ll get in trouble if I do.

  The man raises one dark eyebrow. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Things get muddled in my head. It’s not always clear.” The words spill out by accident, my voice small. Fear freezes my little body in place. If Mamma hears me, I’ll feel the bite of her belt tonight.

  A genuine smile softens the cruelness of Lucifer’s features. “Your mind is consumed by what you see. It won’t always be so. Yet, whatever you predict will be like waves caused by a stone thrown in the ocean.”

  “They frighten me.”

  Walking toward me, he doesn’t stop until he’s in front of me. All I can think to do is shrink away raising my skinny arms to protect myself from an anticipated blow. Turmoil and violence are all I know. There’s no safe haven from Mamma when she gets mad. She’ll be angry that I talked. Punish me for disobeying her.

  “Things we don’t understand usually do,” he murmurs, capturing an arm to examine the purple bruises and welts littering my skin.

  “Boss?”

  Another man enters my bedroom, deep brown eyes frowning when he sees me. He’s just as nice looking as the first. Mamma’s friends don’t usually look or smell this nice. The others look at me with hungry eyes and smiles that make my flesh crawl.

  Releasing his hold on my wrist Lucifer brushes my black bangs out of my face. “Bring the child, Raziel. I will find a use for her. She’s malnourished and will need feeding to restore her health.”

  “What about the mother?” Raziel questions, striding closer.

  Becoming still, I sit further back in my corner watching the exchange in silence.

  “She’s too far gone on drugs and alcohol. It’s left her barren. No use to anyone now, not even herself. From her state, she won’t last a week. This is the only offspring she’ll ever bear, and I won’t let it fall into the hands of anyone else.”

  I blink up at them, tears filling my eyes. Expression buckling, they start to stream down my cheeks in earnest. I’m scared. All I’ve ever known is Mamma, and now she’s being taken away, yet somehow, I knew she was going. She’s broken beyond repair. Always has been.

  “Hey, it’s ok baby doll.” Scooping me up with my duvet, Raziel cradles me gently against his muscled chest, like I’m nothing more than a weightless toy. “My name is Raziel, but you can call me Raz. We’re going to take care of you now.”

  1

  Cassandra

  Thud. Thud. Thud. Red and bleeding, the heart beats in the palm of my adoptive father's outstretched hand. It’s the burning fury in his green eyes that hold me ca
ptive. The icy wrath I’ve seen him unleash on others a thousand times. Standing tall and imposing, Lucifer looks every inch the beautiful fallen angel he is wearing a look of disdain.

  Clinging to my sister tighter, I whimper into her hair in fright. For all her strength and fire, I’m not sure even Mavi can save me from this. She slayed Markaz, our biological demon father, but her mate, my adoptive father is worse.

  “Take Cassandra to a cell,” he orders, delivering the organ he’s just ripped from the chest of a demon into the hand of a waiting guard. “Chain her to the wall and leave the carcass of her accomplice somewhere she can watch it. No one is to remove it. I want her to witness as it decomposes and the maggots feast on the festering flesh. The only thing she will have to eat is that heart, and if she doesn’t want it, she’ll starve.”

  Uncaring hands wrench me backward. Shrieking at the top of my lungs, I battle against them clawing and screaming. Fighting against the outcome of my visions is a useless task. Like attempting to stop the sun from setting. All it’s gotten me is pain. Everything I have set in motion has been to protect them. Why can’t they see that? Why can’t they understand? They see it as nothing but a betrayal. That I endangered them all. Jane, Raziel’s new mate is the one who will seal our doom. Not me. Never me. She’s the one who will harm us. It’s the reason I tried to have her killed. Without her things would never have been set in motion.

  My vision shifts.

  Wings beat the air. A pure white dove with blood on its wings. It struggles to take flight. It's as if some invisible weight prevents it from doing so. The buildings around it are hollow and empty.

  Darkness coils around me.

  I hear its whisper.

  The way it calls to me, low and coaxing.

  It knows my name.

  It always has.

  A presence on the edge of my mind.

  Waiting. Watching. Taking its time.

  “Wake up, Little Dove.” Masculine. Soft. The words are a murmur.

  The voice teases me into semi-consciousness. It takes a second to register the cold, hard surface beneath my bare back. Gone are the furs I’ve been snuggled in. I don’t understand why my clothes are missing.

  My last memory is the dungeon in Hell. My punishment for putting my family in danger. Two weeks in one of the cells watching a corpse rot.

  Cold sends shivers over my naked skin. It brings me back to the here and now. My mind is always wandering. It's sometimes hard to focus.

  Eyes fluttering open, I stare up at the unfamiliar rock made ceiling. Shadows dance above me, casting eerie pictures in soft firelight. For a second, I wonder if I’m having a vision. They’ve become so strong it's hard to tell what’s reality or in my head.

  I don’t recognize this place. The last time I’d opened my eyes, Mavi my half-sister had been assuring me she was getting me out for my eighteenth birthday. She’d wanted to celebrate. Mark the day with something special. Today. It has to be today.

  The silence is deafening. It hisses through my mind in white static. A blank expanse absent of the constant chatter of other people’s lives and events I have no control over. Alarm tightens my throat, hands jerking up to grasp either side of my head. I’m not used to being alone.

  Even though I hate my visions, it’s like losing a limb I’ve never been without. Where are they? Why have they stopped? I don’t understand.

  Panicking I sit up. Gasping at my nakedness, I clumsily try to cover myself drawing my knees up to chest and wrapping my arms around them in comfort. “Where are my clothes?”

  “You won’t need them anymore.”

  Startled at the reply, I turned to the man standing in the doorway. He’s a hulk of a male. The very size of him has me shrinking back in intimidation, my smaller frame no match for his.

  Tattooed arms folded over his chiseled, tattooed chest, he’s leaning insolently against the door frame. Hazel brown eyes deep and more penetrating than any I’ve ever encountered before are staring at me with a keenness that sends every one of my senses on red alert. It’s predatory. Cold. I can see them observing me dispassionately through the slits in his mask. The leather that hides his face is a skeletal design. It’s so realistic I have to stare closely just to see it’s fake.

  Eyes widening, I sit frozen. Is he real or a ghost haunting my thoughts? A phantom from the deepest recesses of my mind.

  Chest broad with wide shoulders, I’m pretty sure he has muscles everywhere. The cold, narrow eyed look he gives me through the slits sends fear down my spine. It’s void of emotion. No warmth lingered there, only death.

  Past, present, future they have always been loose marbles rolling around my head, lacking the string to link them. Visions come and go. It takes time and concentration to unravel where their meanings lie. Most times they overwhelm me, blotting out everything else, becoming an unstoppable reel flashing brightly in my mind. Painful, sometimes disjointed sounds, images, smells, experiences that are not my own, but I experience them just as intensely as their owners.

  Out of nowhere one swarms up. I’ve lived it so many times reality and my visions have become blurred.

  Pain lances through my chest. Above merciless eyes stare down at me with no ounce of pity. I can’t breathe. The air is ripped from my lungs, but as my mouth opens, no sound escapes.

  I release a sharp ragged whimper as the memory fades. It hasn’t happened yet. At least I don’t think it has, but then I can never be sure.

  “Are you real?” I ask, voice small. “Where am I?”

  “Somewhere mad gods and monsters roam,” the man informs me with a tilt of his head, that smooth, deep rumble making me shiver. “If you ever see what’s down here with you, it will drive you mad.”

  That doesn’t frighten me.

  “You can’t break a mind when it’s already broken. I’ve always been flawed,” I tell him, pressing my spine further into the coldness of the stone wall.

  I hear him chuckle. “Then we’ll make the perfect pair.”

  Is he crazy too? A killer or a psychopath? I’ve been around my father’s employees enough to recognize someone who has no conscience when it comes to killing. A cool remoteness.

  Maybe this is part of my punishment? A game of my father’s. He likes to play his twisted chess. Yet why haven’t I foreseen it?

  A tiny frown puckers my brow. I don’t understand why my head is silent. The voices, images not crying out, taking over my thoughts and being. I always see something of those I’m with. A flash of insight from their past or present. This man before me is a blank slate. I continue to survey my abductor, noting his cruel mouth that’s curved in a smile

  A demon?

  “What are you staring at?”

  Jumping at his harsh tone, I tear my attention away. Instead my gaze settles on the plain gold ring he has on a leather cord hanging around his neck. “The eyes are the windows to the soul, but all I see in yours is emptiness,” I tell him, hugging my knees tighter. “Cassandra not little Dove. Did my father send you to torture me?”

  “I’ve brought you something to eat,” he replies, ignoring my words. Nudging his chin, he indicates the packet of sealed sandwiches at the bottom of the bench. Beside it is a small square box of orange juice with a straw. It’s the kind you give children.

  Although my stomach rumbles at the sight of food, I don’t make a move to touch it.

  “Why is your soul so silent?” The words tumble out of my lips in a nervous jumble. “This isn’t the palace dungeon. I can’t see…Why can’t I see you?”

  Amusement glittered for a moment in my captor’s sharp eyes. “My name is Master Soren. You will call me Master, and this is my dungeon. Someone paid for you. We took you. You’re here to be trained.”

  Confusion coils around me. This isn’t Hell? I don’t understand.

  “Trained for what?”

  Master smiles. A flash of white teeth that reminds me of a wolf sizing up its prey. “It’s my job to prepare you and teach you how to surrender, submi
t, ready for your new owner. We condition slaves to obey their new Masters without question or hesitation.” Stepping back, he begins to close the metal door.

  Not with my father. I shudder with foreboding. No. No this can’t be happening.

  “I’m not a stray. I have a family. You can’t keep me locked up in here like an animal.” My voice is shrill with panic. Embarrassment at being nude forgotten, I jump off the bench and race toward him.

  As the door slams shut, my fists pound against the unyielding surface. Is he just going to leave me here? What does he want? An enemy. Someone out to hurt my family. Why haven’t my visions warned me? They’re not always so clear, but some small nugget of sight would have shone through.

  At the sound of bolts being slid into place, I desperately search for some kind of handle but find nothing to grab onto.

  “Oh, but I can.” Master’s voice makes me jump as he thrusts back a small grate at the top. “You’re mine now for the duration of your stay to do with as I please.”

  “What if I need to pee?” The question is a whisper.

  As his gaze shifts over my shoulder I follow. A metal bucket sits in one corner of the room. Beside it on its side is a roll of toilet paper. Before I can respond, the grate closes with an ominous click.

  2

  Soren

  Moving swiftly down the corridor, the moans and screams of the other inmates echo around me. They can smell fresh blood. A new soul trapped in this ancient prison. Unlike them, Cassandra is pure. Her light is so bright it brings warmth to even these unhallowed halls.