Stop (Cold Mark Book 3) Read online

  Stop

  Copyright 2015 Scarlett Dawn

  First Edition

  All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of these publications may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover and Formatting by ShoutLines Design

  Editing by Rogena Mitchell-Jones Manuscript Services

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Copyright

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  About the Author

  Preview of King Hall

  Preview of Obsidian Liquor

  Half-naked in preparation for a shower, I held Jax’s note in a white-knuckled grip.

  I read it again. And again. I skimmed the contents too many times to count.

  Escape. I wanted my own life so badly I could cry.

  A person doesn’t know just how blessed they are until their freedom is taken away.

  I may not be behind laser blocks in a Mian prison, but Triaz was my own personal jail cell.

  With too many unanswered questions trapping my thoughts, I prayed with all my might for patience before I scrutinized the bathroom for a place to dispose of the note—without it being found. My eventual grimace was warranted. The safest hiding spot would be if I ate the piece of paper. Many waste receptacles—including toilets—sounded an alarm if an item was placed inside it that shouldn’t be there.

  With my lips thin in determination, I tore the note into tiny pieces and quickly stuffed them into my mouth. My nose scrunched, chewing the wad for a gruesome minute. I swallowed it down.

  It sure as hell didn’t taste like candy. More like paste and cardboard. But the deed was done.

  I efficiently removed the rest of my clothing and lifted my left leg to step into the bathtub.

  And froze.

  One leg still up in the air, I stared down between my naked thighs.

  And screamed as if the room were on fire.

  It sure felt like my vision was.

  “What in the mother fucking hell?” I shouted. My eyes were glued between my legs.

  I patted my intimate flesh repeatedly, even wiping back and forth. Nothing changed.

  That just wasn’t right.

  The gawking couldn’t be helped—hell, no—but reality brazenly intruded when I heard the door bash open to the Plumas’ bedroom. Moving like a panther, I lowered my leg and grabbed my large towel. I would not be caught naked with a blatant…issue. Using lightning quick actions, I had it wrapped around my bare body just as the bathroom door ripped off its hinges and flew inside, slamming like a rocket against the double vanity. The halo-mirror above the sinks vibrated and then wavered as the two Plumas entered the silent bathroom, making their reflections appear like they were deadly spirits straight from the pits of the underworld.

  The door teetered further to the side and hit the tile floor with a resounding thunk at my feet.

  Phila and Killeg’s eyes smoldered, the glow so harsh in the contained room, I almost lifted one of my hands to shield my own gaze. Wrath permeated the air like I was caught in a sticky web, and a petrified shiver wracked down my spine. I would never want to be on their bad side—ripped limb from limb with no real effort on their part. Their chests heaved as their blazing eyes took in my person from head to toe, and then swung across the room, scanning the area for an enemy—a foe they wouldn’t find.

  I held perfectly still in light of their fury, though my thoughts started to calm as a suspicious awareness hit. My regard altered between each of them, focusing on their hair, silently analyzing the bold, white hue—until their glowing gazes slammed back in my direction. My eyelashes swept down as I blinked ever so slowly.

  Holy…shit. I couldn’t be right. There was no way. No…way.

  But if I were, I held one hell of a power chip over their heads. One that could end their lives.

  And quite possibly wreck mine even further than it already was—which was a valid reason to keep my mouth shut on this assumption. It was only a speculation needing further assessment—not to mention, a cunning scheme on how to complete said assessment.

  Bless Mother Joyal, I was trained in tactics and had scored high on all tests involving stratagem.

  This night was either the beautiful beginning of many possibilities. Or my ruin.

  Staring into their radiant eyes, I decided I wanted to go back to bed. And stay there.

  It was too damn early in the evening to act a cool headed role.

  And, apparently, I sucked at lying. Joyal teachers really should have a technical course on it.

  Killeg’s brows snapped together. His breathing had relaxed. “Why did you scream?”

  I stayed silent for a moment, collecting my thoughts. I needed to play it cool. Lie better than I had ever lied before. This meant…I kept my mouth shut. I lifted a finger and pointed at the toilet.

  Both blinked in confusion staring at the harmless white bowl. Phila asked, “Yes?”

  With overly exaggerated, cautious steps, I walked to the toilet. Flushed it.

  The water roared to life inside it with suction that could take my hand with it if it were down in the bowl. Quick thinking. The ‘dangerous’ toilet was all I could come up with. Though, on an honest note, the sound it made the first time I used it had frightened me enough causing me to jump off it. The story wasn’t too farfetched.

  They watched me like I had lost my blessed mind.

  Hmm. It would probably be smart to keep my eyes wide in terror for this ‘show.’

  And damned if they didn’t buy it. Poor defenseless Braita.

  After staring into my doe eyes, Killeg’s head tipped back. He bellowed with deep laughter.

  Phila—at least—managed to contain his hilarity with a hard snort behind a fisted hand.

  I narrowed my eyes and then jammed a finger at the exit. “Get out.”

  Killeg’s lips were tilted up in the most delectable grin. He held up both his hands. “We’re leaving.” A slight head tip toward the toilet. “Don’t fall in next time.”

  Another jab to the exit. I growled, “Now.”

  On silent feet, though their hilarity of their ‘dangerous’ toilet wasn’t as quiet, they both left the bathroom without another word said. When I heard their bedroom door close, I walked to the halo-mirror, the reflection now steady. Ever so deliberately, I peeled my towel away from my body.

  I stared.

  While the hair on top of my head was a profound black, the color I had been born with, the hair at the juncture of my thighs no longer matched.

  It was now snow white.

  Pulling Killeg’s gifted cloak tighter around my body, I stilled as he approached. He wore his own cloak, which billowed out from his brisk stride. Underneath it, however, he was attired in all black, very chic in appearance, contrasting greatly with Phila’s borrowed oversized linen white pants and white t-shirt I was trying to cover. I had no clothes of my own here that were wearable—other than my boots—so I was stuck in apparel likely to agitate my Vaq when they saw me.

  Me, wearing clothes of the Plumas of the east. Yes, my Plumas would not appreciate it.

  “Jax is openin
g the doors.” Killeg pulled the hood of my cloak up over the top of my head. His warm fingers lingered as they brushed against my cheeks. I locked my knees so I wouldn’t squirm as heat unfurled in my gut. He bent at the waist, leveling his glowing crystal blue gaze with my chocolate browns. His words were quiet, unassuming. “Are you ready?” Too bad I could read right through him on this account.

  Are you ready? He meant, don’t you dare attempt to flee.

  I snorted. “I’m not going to escape.” Not right now.

  His head was slightly cocked, his chaotic white hair in perfect disarray. I wondered vaguely if he styled his hair like that on purpose to keep others off-balance. It was definitely eye-catching. His lips curved up at one corner, more than mischievous in nature. “Do I need to use my own drugging potion on you again to get you to a safe location?”

  The blush burning my cheeks was welcome. At least, while we were still on this hov-craft, anyway. He was flirting with me. This…wasn’t so bad. I tilted my head forward a few inches, getting just that much closer to his face, before I grinned and whispered, “Killeg, you can kiss my Human ass.”

  His resulting smile was just as radiant as his glowing eyes. Though, he paused with his lips parted, ready to rejoinder, when his attention altered to the kitchen bar where Stiller sat. The purple-haired Mian was silently sipping on a bottle of water, gazing directly at us. Blatantly staring. Killeg straightened and narrowed his crystal blue eyes on his best friend. He hitched a thumb in the direction of the parlor. “Why don’t you see if Jax needs anything?”

  Stiller merely shrugged, not moving from the bar. “Jax flew us here. I’m sure he can handle opening the door.” His purple brows rose, and he pointed his water bottle directly at me with his regard still on Killeg. “I feel it is my duty to inform you, this is the most stupid action you and Phila have ever made.”

  My back straightened at the implication. Even if it were true.

  Killeg slid with a gentle glide, barring Stiller’s view from me. He didn’t say anything. He just continued to hold his best friend’s gaze with a dominating glare only a Pluma could enact. I was thoroughly content with not being on the receiving end of it.

  The look was enough. Stiller bowed his head in a respectful manner and jumped off the bar. Although his casual stride halted at the parlor door. In a soft tone, he stated, “I hope you two know what the fuck you’re doing. She’s not worth our extinction and you both know it.” With those parting words, he went to check on Jax.

  My lips thinned, and my own words were soft. “Well said.”

  Out of view, Stiller still shouted, “Hell, you fucks. Even the damn Human knows it!”

  A gentle, sardonic chuckle from behind had me spinning in a flurry.

  I had no clue when Phila had exited their bedroom, but he stood only a foot away from me. The corners of his eyes were crinkled as he peered down, holding my gaze. Black eyes so intriguing in their complexities were full of hilarity. He admonished gently, “Braita…how do you know we won’t start a war if you choose your Plumas over us—not the other way around?” My jaw gaped as he tsked gently, brushing his long hair over his shoulders, and showing the tips of his pointed ears in sharp relief. “Or will we?” He hummed ever so quietly, his attention honed solely on me. “It is a conundrum, is it not?”

  I snapped my mouth closed. “Riddles are not helping this situation.”

  He shook his head and lowered his face to mine. “Oh, but this is a riddle…yes?”

  My black brows gradually furrowed because he was more right than he knew. “Perhaps.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes wholly capturing mine.

  I held perfectly still, curious as to what he was planning.

  Sweetly, he kissed the tip of my nose. “You know it is, Human.”

  A seven-foot-tall Mian peered down at me. It was the delegate of Triaz I had first encountered when my name had been called on Joyal. He was also the litigator currently handling the transaction—me—between the Plumas of the east and the west. His blue glowing eyes stood out from the darkness of his imperial hooded cloak which sported the Triaz symbol—even though he clearly wore the mark of the west on his left temple, a circle with a line through it. His expression was blank, hiding all thoughts of what he was truly thinking as we stood outside the hov-craft deep in the dark woods, surrounded by the Plumas of easts’ bodyguards. They had arrived at this location before we had landed. He asked, “Are you well, Ms. Valorn?”

  “I am.” Even though there was a cool breeze ruffling all the bodyguards’ colorful hair, Phila and Killeg stood on either side of me, their body heat warming my arms.

  He tilted his tall frame in my direction and took an exaggerated sniff above my head. He pulled out a small bottle of perfume from his cloak. I jerked in surprise, tucking my head down when he began spraying it all over me. It was a fragrant scent, but also, surprisingly clean. I choked at the overwhelming smell filtering through my nostrils, coughing loudly in agitation until he stopped. He put the perfume back in his cloak, his words simple. “You don’t want to see your Vaq smelling of the east, do you?”

  I barely kept from blushing, though my tone was strong to hide all fonder that had occurred on the hov-craft. “I was on their ship. How else do you expect me to smell?”

  I could have sworn his lips twitched before he turned and started walking, and I know I heard him mutter under his breath, “Less of them, Ms. Valorn. Definitely less of them.”

  I stuck my tongue out at his back. No one could see with my hood up as it was. He was a smart ass, which was as interesting as the man himself. I quickly put my feet into motion as our group followed behind him, trekking through the underbrush. I spoke in careful Mianese to his back. “Sir? What is your name? I’ve never caught it.”

  “Rule.”

  I blinked. “Rule?”

  He didn’t glance back. “Yes, Ms. Valorn. I go by the name Rule.”

  “So…Mr. Rule, then.”

  “No. Just, Rule.”

  I stepped over a large root dipping out of the hard ground. “Rule.”

  Patience kept his posture relaxed. “Yes, Ms. Valorn.”

  My head teetered back and forth in thought. “That’s neat.” I grinned. “Rule.”

  Monotone. “Thank you, Ms. Valorn.”

  Jax snickered behind me where he walked next to Stiller. “Enough, Braita.”

  “I do think it’s neat.” I gazed back. Winking, I whispered, “He rules the roost of Triaz.”

  “Yes, Ms. Valorn,” Rule stated loudly. I jerked my attention forward, my eyes wide on the back of his hooded head. He was still walking with a casual stride. In plain English, he murmured in his monotone voice, “I do rule the roost of Triaz.” He glanced over his shoulder, his blue shimmering eyes piercing me in place, so much so, I had stopped walking. “And, now, if you would please be quiet? These guards are here for a reason, as is our clandestine location for the Plumas of the easts arrival in Center.”

  My mouth bobbed for a moment, and then I nodded quickly. Quiet. I could do that.

  Firmly put in my place, I kept silent as we trudged for miles through the forest surrounding the city of Center. The only light came from the glowing Mian eyes to mark my way where Mian from the east and west came to ‘play’ together.

  Bless Mother Joyal. We didn’t have to hoof it the entire way to our destination. Black vehicles now carted our convoy to our final target. I sat between Killeg and Phila on the backseat of a stretched armored car with Jax and Stiller sitting on the left couch seat that ran along the side of the vehicle. Rule sat on the right couch seat. Done being quiet, my eyes were glued out the tinted window on my left. I asked in awe of the city, “Why do you call this place Center?” I had been unconscious the last time I exited this city, not getting to see anything except the inside of the Coliseum. Massive buildings erupted right next to quainter structures. It was a smorgasbord of a metropolis, the area bustling with activity. Neon lights from buildings glared and blinked at me
from signs luring Mian inside for pleasurable entertainment.

  Phila explained, “We call it Center because our force field is centered—located—here. The technology creates a circle throughout the restrictive pulse wave, allowing citizens of the east and the west to cross over from their own land into it.”

  My brows scrunched. “You mean, normally, people of the east literally can’t cross over into the land of the west, and vice versa? I thought it was merely a politeness to keep the peace.”

  Killeg snorted softly. “Damn, they seriously didn’t tell you shit.”

  I placed a stopping hand directly in front of his face. “Enough. Just answer the question.”

  Killeg smirked at the order, knocking my hand away with a gentle move. “The marks of the east,” he pointed to the star near his right eye, “and the marks of the west are linked to the force field. The mark we choose to obtain—at the onset of puberty—keeps us from crossing into lands where we should not be. It is why the Plumas of the west could not cross over into our land without us allowing it. Here at Center, everyone can gather. Though, no weapons are allowed, except for the Coliseum if a game is planned.”

  “Huh, you mean like the ‘arrival ritual’ you made us endure?”

  “Yes.” He paused, eyeing me. “The arrival ritual was for the Humans own good. The weak would have only been hurt further here. A swift death for those who could not handle our ways was a mercy.”

  “We’ll agree to disagree on that point.” Of course, we would. It had been barbaric in the extreme. Too many Humans had died that day. It was damn near impossible for a Mian to understand that though. I moved on. “How do you allow someone to cross?”

  “Each mark contains a numerical code. The delegates of Triaz control the force field. If we would have asked them to allow a certain number to pass, then the delegate would have entered the number into the system, and the individual would have had access to the east. Most delegates live here at Center. Their highest duty is to maintain the force field.”