by Karey Brown
“Hush, Keer’dra. We’re in the tunnel.”
Keer’dra. Her mental phantom. “You’re real?” She tried lifting her arm to hold onto the one who carried her. “Broc?”
“I am not the human you seek.”
“Please. I’m begging you, stop. My back. He kicked my back so many times . . . “ Emily cried into him. “He hit me. He hit—“ she screamed into his chest, clinging.
“Shhhh, Keer’dra.” His hold tightened. “Never will he touch you again.” He stilled.
“Movement within the tower.”
“Keep blades pointed downward. They watch; they won’t dare attack.”
“As you command.”
“Why would we be killed in our own castle?” Emily asked.
A small torch ignited, the faint beacon bobbing closer to her. She looked up. Screams to awaken the dead escaped her. The being scowling down at her covered her mouth with his hand. The one carrying her grinned.
She was being carried by none other than her phantom lover!
He winked. “Keer’dra? I am taking you up to the keep. We will not harm you. The human, however, will suffer. I promise.” He smiled most wickedly. Emily’s eyes bulged. Fangs! She turned her head, trying to free her mouth. The other leaned closer. “If I lift my hand, do not scream. You will encourage Elves to release their arrows and Forest Lords to charge with their ridiculous weapons. Blood will be spilt.” Mirth lit his face. “Not any of ours, mind you. Do I have your word?”
Emily nodded, shook her head, nodded again. White brows scowled down at her. They were a shock against his dark skin.
“What are you?”
“Lumynari.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You’re supposed to be terrible. Evil. Dangerous.”
He flashed an arresting smile. “You forgot savage.”
“I was working my way down the alphabet,” Emily quipped. She switched her attention to the one carrying her. “Let me walk.” Pain thudded inside her head, each step they took, regardless how he seemed to glide. “My back. My head. God, I’m in pain. Why do you . . . call me ‘Keer’dra’?”
“I have always called you my soul, and no, I will carry you. Your body makes a good shield against Aunsgar’s arrows.”
“Oh, well, in that case . . .” Her eyes fluttered. “My head.” An icky wetness saturated her scalp again. “Bleeding.”
He stopped and eased down until he was crouching. “I will ease your soul.”
“It’s my . . . finger and . . . head that ache. Soul’s already . . . damned. Millie says so.”
“Luckily, that bitch will never again utter her lies,” another voice stated.
“You knew my . . . aunt?” She inhaled deeply, and tried damn hard not to be obvious in her quest to breathe him in. If she could wallow in his scent . . . deeper, she inhaled.
What she failed to realize was that what she wallowed in—Dezenial found this highly amusing—was the scent of his blood, her soul recognizing its mate.
It became one of the most difficult treks of Dezenial’s life, Daemon and Lumynari heritage battling against claiming his woman. To take her away, make her his—again, this is what he wanted above anything. But, he’d made a vow . . .
The more she breathed in his scent, the more she healed. The torment of his decision burned him like Hades’ fires. “Better?”
Ever so slight, she nodded. Cradling her against him, he stood.
“How does he know my aunt?”
“Because he’s the one who removed her tongue.”
Emily offered a limp salute. “Give him a . . . bonus.”
“She does not fear you,” a gravelly voice said.
“Do I need to be afraid . . . of you? Trust me, I could act the part very well.” Her face felt tight, like those pricey department store facial masks that lied about the ease of peeling off when dried. An occasional whisper in their guttural language distracted her from her agony.
They exited the lengthy tunnel. Not one window offered warm glow of orange. Hearths remained snuffed; occupants hidden. Broc must have gotten word down here to the lower bailey for the residents to remain indoors, yet guarded. Or so, judging by the ominous quiet, she assumed. Emily envisioned Pratty cowering, the vile woman eyeballing her windows, just sure she was going to die this night. Almost, Emily asked if they could give the woman a good scare.
She could feel laughter vibrate against her. “I’m sure we can make a quick detour, Keer’dra, if this is your desire.”
“Can’t be . . . that kind of a . . . person.”
Flapping wings penetrated her dim awareness, the sound of them large. A gust whooshed across her, just as something vast passed overhead. Incoherency had to be knocking around her senses, because she could have sworn she’d just seen, by light of the moon, a man fly—
“The light,” her rescuer snarled. The torch snuffed. Sulfur filled Emily’s nose. She sneezed.
“Maybe I should go first, introduce you—“
“You will be silent, Keer’dra. Their light does not harm us as it does my brethren, but in the darkness, your ridiculous caretakers are weakened.”
Emily’s very heavy head dropped against his broad shoulder. “You smell good.” Her senses lulled. She felt herself squeezed tighter against his body. “Your name . . . tell me. I can’t keep calling you Phantom Lover.” Why can’t I remember what Urkani called him? And who quietly laughed from behind them?
“Names aren’t important.”
“You’re not Drakar, are you?”
Shadows ceased as one. Even her hero abruptly halted. “How do you come by this name?” His voice brooked no argument. No vestiges of sympathy remained, his voice suddenly harsh. Fear gripped Emily. She sensed coiled power. His chest rumbled.
Woman’s intuition clanged and clonged: this was not a being to ignore.
“Visions, according to Aunsgar. I’m plagued with them since arriving in this Godforsaken realm.” Tears spilled. “One bullshit incident after another, and now, Peter threatens to shoot off my hands.” She couldn’t hold back the choked sobbing. Nor the uncontrollable quaking suddenly seizing her small frame. Burying her face into the Lumynari’s chest, her free arm wrapping more tightly around his back, his steady heartbeat soothed her pain and humiliation. And fear. Never, had she felt so safe as she did this second, right here, right now. “Are we . . . almost there?”
“We cross the main bailey now. I have promised you, the human will never harm you again. Nor will Drakar. Hush now, we must hear the arrows so we can hide behind your flesh.”
Emily smacked his chest. And howled. She’d forgotten about her broken pinky.
“Give me your hand.”
“No. Don’t touch it. You said you fixed it.”
“Hold your hand up to my mouth, Keer’dra.”
“No. You’ll eat it.”
Stifled choking sounded from behind them.
“When will you ever obey?”
“When will Hell freeze over?”
“Keer’dra.”
“I do not obey men.”
“I am not a man. I am Lumynari, a Shadow Master, the son of Hades and Shadow.”
“Do you always offer a resume?”
His voice turned to a growl. “Lift your hand in front of my face so I may ease your pain.”
“If this is a trick . . . and I pull back a stump . . . I’m snapping off your fangs. And no, the Tooth Fairy won’t visit.”
Raucous laughter this time. She tried seeing behind her; her head pounded too much to give it true effort. Against her better judgment, she complied and, ever so slowly, raised her hand to his mouth. His murmuring voice touched her deep within. Again, she inhaled the spicy scent of him. It was becoming her aphrodisiac. If I lick him, will he taste as good as he smells?
He made no attempt to hide that he was watching her, reading her mind, his sensuous mouth quirking in a partial grin. Holding her gaze, he blew hot air on her pinky. She shuddered. She’d die before revealing her t
oes curled. “My lips hurt too.” Her eyes widened, realizing she’d mumbled this out loud. She dove her face into his chest, but not before seeing the sexiest smile and arched luminous brow. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she mumbled against him. “Tired.”
“Rest against me, little one, I will be your strength for now. We’re almost there. We travel the old fashioned way, versus using magicks. For your sake, not ours.”
“I’m okay with the magic carpet, if you prefer floating.”
“Magic carpets don’t exist, Keer’dra.”
“Oh, oookaaay, son of Hades.”
“Imp.”
They stayed to the shadows, darkness they’re companion. Even Emily sensed rippling fear to their backs, the lower bailey having been vacated some ten minutes earlier as the one carrying her made his way towards the keep by way of the winding cobbled roads. An iron gate was pulled open, hinges well oiled, or so Emily remembered watching with detachment, the task be executed as she’d conversed with Finnegan. Made more sense to keep it squeaking; better able to stop someone from sneaking around. Finnegan had laughed and knuckled rubbed her head—then sputtered an apology, shocked at himself for taking such liberties. Strange thoughts for a time like this.
“Your mind wanders in order to shield you against pain and shock, Keer’dra.”
She opened her eyes long enough to see a guard trying his best to look brave.
Dezenial heard the hammer of the guard’s heart, smelled fear-sweat as it oozed through his battle-ready attire. Shadow Master fought back a grin when Vaide hissed at the guard, the man losing his bladder.
“Play nice, Vaide.”
“As you command, my liege.”
Dezenial smirked.
They circled the large fountain, void of water, and came around to the sweeping half-moon stone steps. Castle doors imploded. Several faces appeared, arsenal docked with arrows and bolts.
“Down your weaponry, Prince Aunsgar of Mt. Grwenwood. I return your queen without issue. Unless you deem otherwise?”
“Impossible for your kind to know such a word,” Urkani stated. His arrow aimed for the Lumynari’s head.
“Urkani. He saved me. Move aside. I . . . command it,” Emily weakly called out.
“You command it, Keer’dra?”
“Hush before I command your beheading.”
Laughter. “You still fail to possess fear in the face of surrounding danger.”
“Are you dangerous?”
A sensuous light passed between them. “Not to you, Keer’dra.”
But before Emily could think coherently again, they were stepping into Broc’s great hall.
“Lights,” another Lumynari hissed loudly. “Too many.”
“Better to see your treachery.”
“I’m in pain here, Urkani!” Emily turned her head into the warm chest, candlelight suddenly too bright. “I don’t feel well. Just do your Lumynari thing and kill him so we can stop moving.”
“Almost, I’m tempted to take you up on your suggestion, but you two are bonded more than you currently understand.”
Emily groaned. “Oh, God, not more riddles, not now.”
“So much a contradiction to her previous lives,” Inzyr stated in Balkorian.
Dezenial glared at Urkani. “Her life ebbs while you debate.” His tone became feral. “Shall I take her, or do you snuff some of the burning light for my brethren?”
Save for a small handful of torches, all candelabras were extinguished. The great hall fell into deep shadow. Emily felt herself laid upon softness.
“Lady Emily?” Garreck’s face appeared in her line of sight. Worry lines marred his brow. Abruptly, he reared. “Colin! Medical, now!”
“He beat me.” She clutched Garreck’s hand within her one good one. His face swam. She looked away, feeling more ill. Broc was kneeling beside her. “My back, stomach . . . he kicked me so many times.” How was it she felt so much pain in this moment, but nothing had throbbed and screamed when she’d been carried?
“I will kill you for this!” Broc bellowed, lunging towards the tall Shadow Master. Reignsfeugh and Finnegan grabbed the laird, spinning him away as, without delay, Lumynari unsheathed sadistic looking blades.
“I would not waste my time beating a human woman. We have more colorful ways to amuse ourselves with them. This was done by your kind.” Eyes ignited into red flames, and, as Dezenial spoke, Peter was dumped at his feet. He thoroughly enjoyed the human cowering at the sight of his blazing eyes. Male power dominated, each seeking to possess the upper hand of the moment.
None paid attention to the woman they thought to protect.
Fear engulfed Emily. Thick fog of terror swept away reason and reality. She had to hang on, fight back the lure to pass out from pain. Why did she hurt more now? When she was carried, her head throbbed, but now, it was tenfold. Where was Peter? Hiding. Crouching in shadows with his gun. If they turned their backs, dropped their gaze, he would come running. At her. With his gun. To shoot off her hands. Body part by body part.
“He’ll kill me! Broc! He’s gonna kill me! Shoot off my hands, he’s going to start with my hands!” Thrashing, she wrestled against Colin’s hold.
“No one’s going ta’ touch ye! Emily! Look, lass! The mohn canna’ get ta’ ye’!”
Emily’s warbling vision followed the length of Broc’s arm. Dezenial kicked and Peter rolled several times, cocooned in rope from neck to ankles.
“He’s mine,” Broc growled, springing from Emily’s side again. Lumynari closed in, blocking him from his target. “You protect him?” Broc drew his sword.
“Lugh’s blood, look at the wee lass. I’ll kill ‘im. There’s enough of him ta’ go around fer’ all o’ us,” Kavan stated. “I say we pike his head like days of auld! Gut him for birds ta’ feast upon!”
“He belongs to me,” Dezenial announced in low tones. “I have watched through his eyes for some time. His intent was to kill Princess Emily. Slowly. After days and days of rape and torture.”
Aunsgar dropped down next to Emily. “I have never seen a woman suffer such an attack to her face,” he whispered in Elvish. “Had she been with you, this would not have transpired.” He looked back at Dezenial. “She is bound to you, yet you return her here, to our custody. Why?”
Awkwardly, Emily sat up. There didn’t seem to be an area of her head free of pain. But in a moment oblivious to all, she was incognizant of her wounds, of words being spoken over her in Elvish.
“Milady, lie back. You must be tended,” Colin pleaded.
“You shielded me.” She stared, unflinching at the dark being standing proudly, facing off with Broc and Aunsgar. “Run, run child to the end of the forest. The other will protect you. Never fear me, little Emily.” Emily gave her head a gentle shake and scrunched her eyes against dizziness. “You were there the day my parents were killed.” Another memory slammed. Her gaze snapped open, holding his. “Drakar!” He nape tightened. “I see him,” she gasped. “It’s his weapon.” She winced, turning her head away sharply to avoid visions only she could see. “He cut off their heads.” Her stomach roiled from the image, seared now for all time in her mind.
“Her eyes. Do you see her eyes?” a Lumynari whispered.
“Hide yer’ swords,” Finnegan warned.
Dezenial’s gaze narrowed. “They were fostering you, and for that, they were slaughtered. Drakar’s hunt for you continues, even after three millennia. We thought you safe amongst the light-dwellers.”
“But who did you have me run to? I was no more than four, yet you sent me into a forest no small child—“
“Do you not feel kindred amongst the forest . . . amongst the shadows?” Dezenial murmured.
You are in my mind. Always have been. The forest, it always called to me. And, the moon. The night is my solace.
He nodded, letting her know he’d heard her thoughts. “I covered your memory, hoping to protect you from horrors you witnessed that long ago day.” His azure eyes mirrored inner pain. He co
uld heal her, fulfill the longing in her heart, her soul. But for himself, there existed no freedom from desolate pain of denying the feel of her flesh, binding of her soul to his.
Slowly she shook her head, privy to his inner thoughts; suspecting he did not realize this. She cast her gaze downward. Soul pain awakened.
“Milady, you must allow me to tend to your wounds,” Colin pleaded, but Emily held up a shaky hand.
“I will ask but once, Dezenial, who did I run to?”
A dark sentinel eyed Emily curiously. “She knows your name.”
“Yes,” Dezenial smiled. “Her memory returns.” His eyes twinkled. “And, her power.” He nudged his chin towards her. “Your eyes glow molten amber.” He called attention to her eyes for Inzyr’s sake. The Lumynari was actually grinning. “Typical arrogance,” Dezenial muttered in Balkorian. “You never disappoint, assassin.”
Aunsgar stepped in front of Emily, as did his elite guards surrounding their queen. “You have saved her, for that you will be granted unchallenged passage through the gate and leave these grounds.” He switched from English to Elvish. “Since you desire to leave her in our custody, your time now grows short of my gratitude.”
“What happens to Peter?” Emily whispered.
As if on cue, Peter screamed from behind his gag.
“Do you grant him pity?” Dezenial asked, majestically walking around the Elves in order to better see her.
Emily watched as a Lumynari reached down and tore the gag from Peter’s face. Surrounding voices claimed her eyes glowed. Like Dezenial’s had? Really? She couldn’t help being a bit pleased by the notion that, if her eyes glowed, it would terrify the shit out of Peter.
He’d shot Aedan. Immediately, her little bit of glee curdled into profound sorrow. He’d shot Aedan. Beat her. Kicked her. Aedan was dead. No more O’Shay-antics. She looked down at Peter, her upper lip curling. “Do what you will. It matters not to me.”
Peter’s eyes bulged. “You whore! Bitch! I should have killed you the first time I choked you! Look at you—pathetic!” He barked laughter. “No one but these animals will screw you—“
