by Tara Rose
“Why did he do that?” she asked, leaning forward slightly. What a fascinating story!
Kelton grinned again. “He sought a sorcerer and asked for the power to seduce all women. Up until earlier this year, the portraits were painted by artists who lived close by, but now those artists live here.”
“But Reginald is…dead, right? Why do the portraits still work?”
“We don’t know,” said Kelton. “Nor do we know why the new ones do, why you see moving pictures in them, or why the pictures disappear in the hall once the women from your world cross over through them.”
“This is like something out of a dark fairy tale.” She stared from one man to the other. “Do you know what those are?”
Bramwell nodded. “Yes, we do. Let me back up a bit and explain our history. It might help you understand where you are, and what is happening in our kingdom right now.”
“Okay.”
“All this started because of a spurned king from Enfield, three thousand years ago. Enfield is the kingdom to our west. This particular king had a powerful curse placed on all the females of Ashdown because one had refused him. The curse endures, and it still affects all our women. Once they reach child-bearing age, they have to take a mate from Enfield or they become barren from the moment they try to conceive.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean your women can’t bear children unless they have them with a man from Enfield?” Was that why they had to entice women into their world through those paintings? Was she here to bear them heirs?
Kelton nodded. “We have been enemies with Enfield for a long time, and it is forbidden for any of our women to take a mate from there. Such a thing is akin to treason.”
“How do your women bear children, then?”
“They do not.”
She said nothing, but the elation she’d felt on first arriving began to dissipate. What the hell was this place?
“The curse was designed to wipe out the ruling princes of Ashdown,” said Bramwell, “but we found a way to keep the bloodlines from dying out. Our ancestors took brides from among the Wythmail women. Wythmail is the kingdom to our east.”
“How do the people of Wythmail feel about that?” she asked, relieved that they had a pool from which to choose mates, but the nagging question of why was she here remained.
“They tolerate it,” said Kelton. “We are allies, but a series of events occurred first before we got to the place we are now. To prevent having another cursed placed on them, our ancestors took the brides from Wythmail in secret. The women were offered protection and comfort, and became citizens of Ashdown upon their marriage to an Ashdown man.”
That doesn’t sound so bad.
“As for Enfield,” said Bramwell, “a fourteen-foot-high brick wall with razor wire at the top was built between our lands. To this day, guards still patrol it on both sides. The Great Lake to the north and the Wastelands to the south protect our other two borders. Passage from Wythmail to Ashdown was always freely allowed. It still is. At first, most of the princes and Council members began to fear that Ashdown’s relationship with Wythmail might become tenuous as well if we kept taking their women as brides.”
“Surely you can understand that,” she said.
“Indeed,” said Kelton. “Over time, a shortage of Wythmail women willing to submit to the sadistic sexual perversions of the men of Ashdown arose, and the rulers of Wythmail eventually put an end to what they called the kidnap and rape of their women.”
She frowned while she fought the fear rising inside her. “Sadistic sexual perversions? Rape? Is that what you do? You simply take them and use them?”
Both men shook their heads. “No,” said Kelton. “Not at all. The leaders of Wythmail were beginning to grow weary of all their women being wooed away to our land instead, so the princes of Ashdown realized they had to do something. Now, any marriage between an Ashdown man and a Wythmail woman includes a contract. Money, property, and possessions change hands, and Wythmail has grown quite wealthy because of this.”
“Sounds like they hold a lot of power over you now.” She was glad to hear they weren’t in the habit of raping the women, but why was she here with them, then?
“They do,” said Bramwell. “As the centuries went by, groups of Ashdown princes only grew more lustful, and weren’t content with brides from Wythmail who wanted equal power and standing in the kingdom. Over time, two distinct classes of nobility developed. Those who kept the bloodlines going by marrying Wythmail women and making them Ashdown citizens, and the current ruling class of princes to which Kelton and I, plus others, belong.”
Dakota swallowed hard. “What is your story, then? Your class of princes, that is?”
“The only bloodline of those particular princes left are the men descended from Reginald, and that includes us,” said Kelton. “Most of us still prefer kinky sex, and lots of it, and we had no wish to marry or produce heirs with the Wythmail women, or with any woman.”
“But that has recently changed,” said Bramwell.
“So am I here to have heirs for you?” Her voice came out shaky and she hated that, but the more they told her, the darker they sounded.
“No,” said Kelton, gently. “Although I do need to say up front that if that were to happen, Bramwell and I would not be upset by it.”
Which made about as much sense as falling through an erotic portrait did. “Why am I here, then? Why did I cross over?”
“We don’t know why you crossed over,” said Bramwell. “As we said earlier, we don’t know all the secrets of the portraits yet. It is our birthright as descendants of Reginald to choose women from the other world who cross over through the magick of the portraits. To claim them for our own.”
“You two have claimed me, then? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes,” said Kelton, “but not only for sex. It includes much more than that. We are now pledged to protect you and cherish you. To keep you safe from enemies, both inside this castle and out.”
Dakota tried to keep breathing. It was too much to take in at once. Sure, they were gorgeous, but this wasn’t an idyllic fairy tale where they had ridden up on white horses and would slay dragons to protect her. She was expected to have sex with these two, and it sounded like a permanent arrangement. Did she have no choice in this at all? “You’ve given me a great deal to think about.”
“We realize that,” said Bramwell, “and we expect you have many questions for us.”
She was about to ask one when the doors opened and the other servant who hadn’t been addressed by name pushed in a cart filled with food and drink. She wasn’t hungry at all now, but could certainly use something to drink. Although she wasn’t sure if asking for a bottle of wine and a straw would be considered appropriate.
“Thank you, Houston,” said Bramwell. “We’ll ring if we need anything else. Let us know when the rooms are ready.”
Houston bowed. “Of course, Sire.”
She waited until they were alone again. “When the rooms are ready?”
“Once we choose a woman from the other world,” said Kelton, “we move into a new suite with her. Most of the others who crossed over recently live close by, so you’ll have the chance to meet them and the princes who chose them.”
Bramwell filled a glass with liquid that resembled tea and handed it to her. “This is quite good. You’ll find the food and drink here taste very fresh compared to what you’re used to. Are you hungry?” He lifted the lid off a tureen, and the aroma of stew wafted from it. “Mmmm…venison. This smells great.”
She watched them both fill bowls with the stew, and then butter slices of bread, wondering how the hell they could be so calm about all this. Did they do it all the time?
“How many women have you two chosen?” Were there others living in this same suite or ones close by? Would she be expected to share her bed with others besides these two men?
Kelton frowned. No one else. We don’t do that. Only one woman, and it’s for life.�
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Somewhat relieved, she gave him a tiny smile. “My mistake.” Dakota tasted the drink which was a cross between sweet tea and lemonade. It was quite tasty, actually, and she was thirsty, but she wasn’t sure about eating stew made from deer meat.
Bramwell started to spoon some into a bowl, but she shook her head. “Just bread for now, please.”
He gave her a molten look of lust that surprised her, but what shocked her more was her body’s reaction to his expression. Her pussy grew wet and a shiver ran down her back. She averted her gaze in the hopes he wouldn’t see it. She’d just met these two. How the hell did they expect her to simply accept this and have sex with them?
“You’ll need your strength,” said Bramwell. “You should have some stew.”
Had his voice been that deep and sexy before? She started to take a sip of the drink and then placed the glass on the cart. Had they drugged it? “No thanks.”
Taking several deep breaths, she stood. “Look, I appreciate all this. I really do. This place is…I don’t have words right now. And you two are very handsome and charming. Perfect gentlemen. Everything a price should be. But I can’t stay here. I can’t be a…whatever I’m supposed to be to you two. I don’t even know you.”
Dakota eyed them both as they merely smiled at her. Their expressions weren’t smug, but neither did they give her any clue that they’d heard her, or were in agreement with her words. She couldn’t figure out what they were thinking.
“I’d like to go back home now. Maybe I can visit another time? You know, when I’ve had a chance to digest all this.”
Kelton gave her a look of sympathy, which frightened her more than anything the pair had said so far. “Dakota, you don’t understand. The paintings only work one way. You can’t return to your world. This is your home now, with both of us.”
She shook her head and took a step back as her pulse raced, but the only thing behind her was the sofa. She plopped back down, because the same dizziness she’d felt before falling through the portrait was back. “What?”
“It’s okay,” said Bramwell, his face full of concern. He touched her arm and she drew strength from his warm hand. “You’re all right. Just breathe.” He held out the bowl again. “Please eat something. You’re safe, Dakota. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
She stared at the stew. “You don’t understand. I can’t stay here with you. I have a home. I have a job. I have friends who will think I was kidnapped or died or something.”
“We understand that,” said Kelton.
“I can’t have sex with you two. I don’t even know you.”
“But you will know us,” he said quietly. “Quite well. We will know you, too. I assure you, we will make sure you enjoy the sex, and will never ask you to do anything you really don’t want to do.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring.” She hadn’t meant for her comment to come out so bitchy. “I’m sorry. I’m just overwhelmed right now.”
“What can we do to help?” asked Bramwell.
“Send me home.”
“We can’t do that.” His voice was soft, and when she looked deep into his dark eyes, she felt a little better. She had no clue why, but she had a premonition that they were telling the truth. They weren’t going to harm her. Dakota accepted the stew. At the very least, she should eat something. She was hungry now, and with some food in her stomach to keep her from becoming dizzy, she could plot a way to get out of here and find her way home.
Chapter Four
Kelton watched Dakota carefully. He wasn’t close to convinced that she’d accepted her fate that easily. He cut his gaze toward Bramwell, who also appeared concerned. “Do you like the stew?”
“Yes, and that surprises me. I usually don’t care for gamey meats.”
Her voice still sounded like she was about to cry, and he hated that. “Everything here is fresh because we don’t use preservatives like you’re used to.”
She nodded and ate more, but he noticed her hands trembling. After a few more spoonfuls, she put the bowl down and ate some bread, but she hadn’t looked at either of them again. “Tell me about the other women who have crossed over.”
He and Bramwell exchanged a quick glance. Surely there was no harm in that, and it might help her accept this more readily. “There are approximately sixty of various ages living in the castle,” said Kelton. “As far as we’ve been able to tell, there is no set interval at which you cross over, but it is always during a full moon.”
She nodded. “Are all the frames made from ash wood?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
She finally glanced into his eyes with a surprised look on her face. “It’s known for having magical properties. I’m assuming that’s why they were made using that particular wood, considering they’re portals. But they’re more than that, aren’t they? The magick isn’t only in them. It’s in Reginald’s descendants.”
“That’s true,” said Bramwell.
“I study that. Paranormal and supernatural events, legends, and history. It’s my passion. That and painting.”
Kelton grinned. “You paint, also?”
“Yes, I do. My job is to design digital images for book covers. For e-books, that is. Do you know what those are?”
Kelton nodded. “Yes, we do. Is that how you do all your painting? On a computer?”
She smiled. “No. That’s the work I do to pay the bills. My real passion is to work with old materials and ancient techniques. I paint what I see in my dreams. Everything from fairies that fly among the stars to the darkest demons my imagination can conjure up.”
“That’s fascinating,” said Bramwell. “I wish I could see some of your work.”
“I agree,” said Kelton. “We’ll make sure to procure you brushes, canvas, and any materials you need. You may continue your painting here.”
Her mouth opened slightly and she stared at them both as if they’d told her she was the richest woman in the kingdom. “Are you serious?”
“Of course. We told you that we aren’t going to hurt you. We want you to be happy here.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
They stared into each other’s eyes for long moments, and Kelton felt something shift inside him, as if he’d stepped across a divide and was now safely on the side of a chasm he hadn’t been sure he could cross. Her eyes were stunning, and it was difficult for him to stay in his seat. All he wanted to do was kiss her.
She asked them again to tell her about the other women, and then she picked up her bowl and began to eat more stew. He knew without understanding why that she was going to be all right now.
* * * *
Dakota had to admit the stew tasted delicious, and so did the tea. She also knew they hadn’t drugged her. Knowing she could still paint here helped a bit, but she needed more information. She wanted to keep them talking until the urge to run passed. “So you said there are sixty women from my world still living here. Will you tell me about some of the others, please?”
“Abigail Dawson crossed over about eighteen months ago,” said Kelton. “She was chosen by Bramwell’s second cousin Jarrett, and my second cousin Colton, and she is now with child. Her confinement ends in approximately five months.”
“So, you weren’t kidding when you said some of you choose to have children with us.”
“No,” said Bramwell, “although you need to know that is not the usual case. Chelsea Barrows, who crossed over fifteen months ago, was the first in our history.”
“Oops. How did that happen? I mean, I’m assuming you’ve been able to prevent that for a long time now. What was different this time?”
Bramwell looked slightly embarrassed, and that surprised her. It was also endearing to see him try to hide his reaction. “There is a potion to drink that prevents pregnancy, and apparently she was quite lax in taking it at the same time each day.”
“I’m surprised that’s the first time it happened if that’s all it takes not to work.”
“Until recent events,” said Kelton, “most of the descendants of Reginald didn’t want to have children with the women from your world, or with any woman.”
“What changed your minds?”
“Several of our Council members and princes have long suspected certain individuals, including other Council members or princes, of acting against our king and against Ashdown. Abigail was out walking too close to the wall between Ashdown and Enfield one day with Jarrett and Colton, and it was later discovered an Enfield spy named Willoughby, among others, overheard her talking about having crossed over via one of the portraits.”
“Up until then,” said Bramwell, “we don’t believe Enfield had been aware of their existence. They also did not know we kept our bloodlines going by making Wythmail women citizens, and by falsifying birth documents.”
Dakota put down her bowl and frowned. “If you weren’t having children with the women from my world, why would it matter whether Enfield discovered the portraits?”
“They are our enemy. Imagine if they could unearth the truth behind the magick. They might use it against us, or against other kingdoms. If they discovered this, we would look foolish not only in their eyes, but in the eyes of any kingdom. Such knowledge could undermine our relationship with Wythmail.”
“Then why do it at all?” She wanted to understand their history.
“We had no choice because of the curse. We would have died out. That was why it was cast. Neither Kelton nor I can help who we’re descended from, any more than our cousins, uncles, fathers, or brothers. Some of us have attempted to rise above it, and when we choose a woman from your world, it’s not to cause her harm or pain.”
Dakota nodded several times as he continued.
“Shortly after Abigail, Jarrett, and Colton were overheard, Abigail lost her way during our Spring Solstice Ball and stumbled upon Willoughby, who had been made a castle guard by Dalton, a prince of Ashdown and a Council member. She heard them talking about their plans, and realized what it meant, but before she could find Jarrett and Colton to warn them, Willoughby and Dalton spotted her.”
