Each doorknob rested against a bronze sheet of metal, which supported it and contained the screws, which would secure it to a door. The mechanism was attached to a detachable knob. This one was merely a plain, bronze sphere and held none of the beauty of the more elaborate handles.
A sheet of paper had been slotted underneath the material which had protected the knobs from smashing against each other. She'd tried to read it, but the writing had been faded and the paper scored with age. It was a shame, because she'd have liked to know more about the provenance, but it wasn't to be.
Heather reached for the knob and carried it out of the kitchen, into the sparse hall and ascended the stairs. She placed it carefully on the ground outside her bedroom, before she headed to the bathroom to collect her toolbox: Heather smirked proudly at the dry faucet. Not a drip in sight.
Gathering the correct screwdriver, Heather knelt down before her bedroom door and selected the stone doorknob. God, it was heavy. She hefted it in her arm and squinted down at the tiny screws. A frown puckered her brows, because there was no way in hell such minute screws would carry such a weight and she rummaged around for some more, eventually coming across a set that seemed to be stronger and as luck would have it, a dark brassy shade that wouldn't seem out of place. Heather couldn't remember buying them, but then, she'd spent nearly four hundred dollars at the hardware store that day, buying everything the boy had stuttered out.
Being independent was costly at first, but thanks to the internet and all of the how-to guides on there, she'd managed to decorate and fix-up her place by herself, without a cent spent on some jackass builder who'd ogle her tits and ass and decide he could charge her more, because she was a dumb blonde, while adding her to his to-do list before the job was complete.
Heather had two things to say to that. . . .
Hell no.
She removed the tiny screws then started to remove the current doorknob, taking note of how it had been inserted so that she could copy it with this new mechanism.
It was peaceful work and took about twenty minutes for her to fit it to the door. When she'd tightened all of the screws, Heather sat back to admire her handiwork. She was just about to test the doorknob to make sure it worked properly, when a loud bang resounded about the upstairs hall.
As her heart began to pound, Heather was sure two years of her life had just been snatched from her. The fright had effectively drained any heat from her body that was for damned sure. On shaky limbs, she climbed to her feet and turned her head to the left and right, hoping to see something that could be the source of the noise. Spying nothing out of the ordinary, she darted over to the staircase and peered over the banister to see if anything was happening downstairs.
When the bang came again and was followed by a dozen more this time, she returned to her bedroom door, realizing that the noise came from there.
She hesitated, her fingers furling and curling about the knob. The room was a shell and would be until she could afford all of the wallpaper and paint, she'd selected to decorate her room. There was a ladder in there, she recalled as well as a few boxes containing some of the furniture she'd eventually use but there was nothing that would make that noise.
Unless. . . . one of the window shutters had come loose. It seemed unlikely as there wasn't even a breeze to cool down the hotter than hell temperatures bathing Pennsylvania at that moment- more was the pity. If there wasn't a breeze, there certainly wasn't a strong enough wind to nudge at one of the shutters and tug it out of the catch.
Heather's hand touched the cool stone, her palm brushed against the smooth surface, the heel grazed against one of the crystal caves and the sensation tickled the sensitive flesh. She jumped back as though burned and jumped again, when the banging continued.
It sounded like. . . .
She shook her head, but Heather knew what it sounded like. One of her next door neighbors had been a pimp back in the city and the police had come to arrest him. When he'd refused to leave the apartment, they'd broken down his door.
And the banging echoing around the upstairs hallways sounded just like that.
It couldn't possibly be and yet. . . . there was no other plausible explanation either.
Heather sucked in a breath, grabbed the doorknob, turned it and opened it.
Her eyes widened, then blinked and that was all the chance she had.
A man appeared out of a vine-laden doorway and barreled through it and towards her. He seemed to realize she wasn't a door a second too late. His body collided with hers and she was pushed through the air as though she were nothing more than a feather.
She sailed upwards and landed with a bang. If the descent hadn't been painful enough, the man followed the same arc of motion and managed to land on her right leg.
Before she even had time to rub it, the man jumped upwards, turned around and in a voice that seemed to be almost in slow-motion, yelled, "No.”
Heather's eyes darted from him to the object of his study and she realized her bedroom door was closing.
It shut with a resolute bang and only the sounds of the stranger's breathing resonated around the hall.
Silence reigned for a few moments, before pique began to rustle along Heather's nerves.
Who the hell was this man?
What was he doing in her bedroom and how had he managed to cover it with vines of all things?
"Are you a squatter?"
It seemed to be the only possibility even if it was impossible and Heather was quite pleased with her line of thought- better that than insane ideas. Heather didn't even want to question where those vines had come from or why her plasterboard walls had suddenly turned into those belonging to a castle.
She was less pleased, when the man spun around, his attention very firmly on her.
It was only when his eyes caught hers, that Heather realized she didn't want his attention on her.
Unfortunately, it was far too late for that.
Before she knew it, Heather found herself in a chokehold. His forearm was covered with some kind of gauntlet and the metal bit into her flesh and nearly crushed her windpipe. He'd already reduced the amount of air she could inhale to a slither and her lungs were starting to burn in reaction.
Her attempts to cry out were pathetic. Mumbled garbles that he put a halt to, simply by pressing his forearm all the harder against her throat. Her entire being went into panic. He didn't seem to be doing anything apart from choking her. He wasn't trying to rape her, she could see a knife in his hand but he wasn't pressing it against her throat and he didn't seem intent on stealing anything.
Why the hell was he here?
The thought was the only thing floating about her oxygen starved brain.
She clawed at his arm, but it was useless. The metal glove did more damage to her than him and from the sudden dampness of her hands, she realized she'd cut something because it was quite evidently blood.
Her mind's eye conjured up the split second image she had of her attacker. And while she longed to cling on to the thought that he was a squatter, or a robber, even though they were implausible- what appeared to be the truth was even more implausible. One of the Templar Knights striding through your bare-bones bedroom didn't seem at all possible and yet. . . . Here one was.
Either that or robbers had taken to wearing fancy dress to take part in daytime thefts.
The lack of oxygen suddenly made itself known. Her entire head felt like lead and only the heavy pressure of his chokehold kept her upright. When she felt sure she was on the brink of collapse, when her body had said enough was enough and a swoon was the only way she was going to survive without brain damage, she felt her eyes flutter and her limbs start to twitch.
The buzz of the phone scared the hell out of her and apparently him. He let her go. For what seemed like endless moments, she sucked in precious air and never had Heather felt anything sweeter. She relaxed against him, his body bracing her and keeping her upright. She never even thought about scooping up th
e phone which stood a few feet away on a stand. She never even thought about lunging for it and asking for help. Heather was just relieved as hell that a quirk of the last owner had been to have phones all over the place- one in the kitchen, one in the downstairs hall, one in the upstairs hall close to the bathroom and another in the bedroom. If not for that quirk, lack of air might have killed her.
"Where am I, woman? Tell me now or I’ll slit your throat.”
The knife was no longer clutched in his hand, it was pressing against her throat. So sharp and so cold that a shudder rose and fell down the length of her spine. She cried out a garbled sob as the metal pushed into her flesh and it gave way.
Regardless of the air she'd just sucked into her lungs, Heather's air-starved brain had enough.
Before fear, terror or panic could flood her veins, her brain simply reacted to the threat in the only way it could- it short-circuited.
And Heather passed out.
"Damned females,” Fade muttered under his breath. He removed the knife from her throat, replaced it in the scabbard and hoisted her into his arms and over his shoulder. She was so slight he barely felt her weight and decided to do some exploring of his own whilst the female was unconscious.
Turning back to the doorway through which he'd entered, he opened and shut the door twice but no portal appeared.
Anger simmered on a low heat in his veins and he found it inordinately difficult to contain his irritation at the situation. How on Mearth was he supposed to return home?
He'd heard of this before. Knew it to be the magic of those cursed hoonan women- witches.
While the female in his arms appeared to be a female hoonan, he doubted she was a witch. She'd quivered in his arms, when he'd held her to him. From the tales he'd heard, a witch would have turned his balls into croaking toads. This woman certainly hadn't done that, or at least, his dick was still in full working order.
Fade grimaced at the realization that it had been nearly six months since he'd sought and found relief. That was the reason he'd reacted to this female. No other.
Shoving the thought away, he glanced around and glared at the strange room. This entire place did not seem to be Mearth. It was too modern here. Too unusual.
His eyes took in the odd boxes and the strange furniture, the odd rolls of paper that rested on the floor and small tins of something called Silk Gloss in a shade of pink so bright he grimaced, as well as brushes and others tools he didn't recognize. They dotted the floor as though the task had not yet commenced.
With the copse of trees of the hoonan land failing to materialize no matter how often he opened and closed the door, Fade finally conceded defeat and walked towards the strange machine which had caused him to start earlier.
It was fabricated from a strange, shiny material. Unlike any other he'd ever known. It wasn't hide nor was it metal nor stone.
He didn't know what it could be, but he didn't like to touch it and took a step backwards and towards the other doors. One heralded a bedchamber, something he garnered from the large item of furniture in the center of the small room. It appeared that on this different plane, the people still required sleep.
Another door heralded a bedchamber, and the final one contained bizarre pieces of furniture. He tapped them with his knuckles and realized it was like clay. But it shone brightly from the light which peeked through a small window. There seemed to be odd silver tubes everywhere. One on a basin which stood on a pedestal, one that hung overhead and another on a larger basin, which he could only assume was a bath. But it wasn't like the metal ones he used at home. This was again made from the peculiar substance as the ringing alarm had been in the hallway.
Bored, he retreated to the staircase he'd noticed earlier and descended the steps seeking answers. The female stirred but soon fell limp against him and he otherwise ignored her, even though he couldn't deny the press of her soft breasts against his lower abdomen was rather appealing after the hardness of battle and the blood lust that was still raging through his veins- something he only just managed to contain.
He pushed the thought of her softness to the edge of his mind and concentrated on the search. Each room heralded more peculiarities and despite himself, Fade started to feel the bitter tang of fear.
This place was so completely alien to Mearth.
While he'd traveled all over the three seas and visited each and every kingdom housed within their planet, he'd never seen some of the sights he had today.
Eventually, he found a room which he could only assume was a food preparation area. There was no hearth, but there were dishes on the side of a basin and the various knives and cooking paraphernalia -some of which he recognized, most of it he didn't- plus a loaf of bread which sat on the top. Could it be anything else but a kitchen?
Despite himself, he strode over to the bread and tore off a chunk. He placed it cautiously into his mouth and grimaced a little at the sweetness of it, but he otherwise found it palatable and ate with a ravenous appetite which had only just started to claw at his belly.
This place was most odd. He turned to a window, through which a hot light entered and peered through it. His eyes widened at the sight before him. Never had he seen the like. In all of his travels, never had he known such colors, such strange, peculiar hues that were a part and parcel of nature.
The plant on the ground was bright green. The sky overhead was blue.
For a moment, Fade thought his eyes deceived him. The colors were so vivid, so strange. They were attractive. He couldn't deny that. In fact, the garden outside of the property was rather pretty and well-tended. But he couldn't seem to process the colors. They were so avant-garde, they almost blinded him.
His eyes watered at the strength of the light and the ball overhead seemed to provide a suffocating heat.
It was only as he had a moment to breath, that he realized how hot it was here.
In his armor, he sweltered. Sweat beaded down his spine and poured down his limbs, dampening his underclothes and generally adding to his discomfort.
He'd been in awkward situations before, dangerous and discomforting positions and he always coped. Now would be no different.
He turned around and found a box on the table. Four knobs, each stylized differently and with a rough and coarse pad of paper sitting beside it.
Striding over to the table, he reached for the blank piece of paper and as soon as his flesh touched it, curls and swirls appeared and formed into words. This was Elven magic.
The thought surprised him, because he'd believed it to be hoonan magic, but the writing was in an ancient Elven tongue. As his fingers touched the paper, he realized that while the language was ancient, the voice was not. The tongue was forgotten now and taught only to Royal offspring, as the coronation ceremony occurred within Firfesh.
Prince Fade of Haden,
You do not hold me in your ken, but I know of you.
You were destined to come to Earth on this day, a planet that is far away from our own home- Mearth. Only magik unites the two and your instincts will not have deceived you- hoonan magik as well as Elven has ensured that you have reached this place in the universe- your destiny awaits you.
The female to whom this house belongs is my daughter. I am Queen Setta of Jender and she is Heather of Jender- the heiress to my throne.
In these dark days, the mating heat is a rarity. Few are fortunate enough to enjoy the experience. Soon, Fade your blood will heat as will that of my daughter. You are mated to one another and have been since her birth.
Her blood is yours. The shaman, Beebe, bonded you as a small child.
Your mother and I were as close as sisters. Your father tried to destroy our relationship, but we refused to accede to his demands. You would have been raised as family and both of us would have prayed for a love match between you, but that was not possible.
Hate us if you must, but it is done and you must protect my child.
Thirty years ago, she was taken to Earth by my sister, Ma
ylar. Factions attempted to destroy our kingdom and came after us. We survived and prevailed, but even then, Heather was a pretty lass. She was naught but a child, a mere babe when one of the fighting men took a like to her. We only just managed to spare her such perversion and I knew that only hiding her would protect Heather's chastity for you.
Bind her to you with your seed and do so fast. Even now, factions wish to overtake the kingdom and my husband is ill, we need our son-in-law to fight for us. Haden is dead. You know it, we know it. Your father has killed it with his voracious need for an heir and he is dead now. There is no kingdom to rule. Rule Jender in our stead. Be a warrior King, we sorely need you.
Your wings will merely ease our path. Jender is a great kingdom, rich and powerful and many are greedy, they wish to hold its wealth in their hands.
But my husband and I gift it to you and Heather.
I hope to see you soon, this magik is current. I write to you now from my chamber in Jeldsted Palace.
Protect and love my daughter, as I wish I had been able to over the years of her growing up.
I miss her and hope she can understand my sacrifice.
Queen Setta of Jender.
The swirls and curls ceased their formation and no more words appeared on the paper. He stood there for what seemed like endless minutes, staring down at the paper almost as though he were waiting for more words to appear.
Before Fade even had a moment to think about what he'd just read, before he could even contemplate the ramifications of the woman's words, the female in his arms, this Heather, began to stir.
Dark Throne, The Page 3
