by Karey Brown
Broc’s lip curled. “Are you attempting to dissuade me from taking mi’ sword and bleeding them?”
“They have seen her.”
“They helped her pass to Otherworld?”
“Nay, friend.” Aunsgar sighed heavily. “She lives; however, she is . . . she is weak.” The Elf stood and quickly moved away. Too quickly, Broc noted. More like, escaping.
There was more. A bad more.
Emily lived. Yet, Aunsgar did not celebrate. Broc resumed looking at an empty horizon and the colorless sky. Long ago, he’d learned Aunsgar would part with nothing more than what he felt the moment warranted. The Elf would tell him the more of it in his own good time. For now, Emily lived. It was enough. He looked over his shoulder at the Elders. Their magicks had bartered his men more time to rescue the lass. Maybe they still had a chance, after all, to save her.
* * * * *
She screamed awake.
Fearsome sentinels posted at each corner of the huge bed remained impervious. Equipped with spears, the blades exaggerated in size, one grunted to a vicious looking sentry barring the door. Quickly, Emily tucked blankets around her nakedness, and did her best to maintain a semblance of modesty while scuttling to a sitting position. It was easier thought out than actually carried out.
Where the hell am I now? Every stinkin’ time I wake up, I’m in a new adventure-nightmare. And naked! Only thing missing is a narration by Rod Serling.
Recollection zipped memories of being dragged, carried—whatever—through claustrophobic tunnels by—think here for a minute—Spinners! Dezenial’s voice had been her light. Almost, almost she won the battle against sweeping grief. Desolate. Her head dropped into her hand, sobbing, shoulders quaking. She slid down and gave in to anguish. She’d known him mere seconds, it seemed, but in that moment of time, she’d experienced an inner radiance. Just a tiny sampling of what wonderful felt like. She wanted more; she wanted to die, versus never seeing or hearing him again. Memories of his growling in her head made her laugh and cry. Her heart had sung. Her toes had curled. Was it love? Was that what the elusive emotion felt like? An admirable male, strong, dominating . . . God help me, I’ve fallen in love.
And now, he’s dead. Killed. To save me.
Emily buried her face into the thick pillow and wailed.
He was dead. And she was here, naked. She pulled back. And saw her surroundings for the first time. Masculine bedroom. What the hell? Oh my God, they’ve delivered me to Drakar! Freaked, she rolled onto her back. Drakar’s bed? She lurched back up into a sitting position. Amber eyes pooled. What, at the end of the day, did it really matter? Dezenial was dead. Maybe she could infuriate Drakar to the point he’d kill her too.
Footfalls echoed outside the chamber. Emily gulped. Whomever it was, they were moving quickly. Muted foreign words were hissed from the other side of the door. Her one solid barrier against the bastard. The sentry quickly turned and threw open her last barricade. Here we go. Now or never. Emily scanned for anything usable as weapon. How fast can I snatch a spear and skewer the prick, catching him off guard?
“Nowhere near quick enough to avoid the other three amputating your arms before you’ve taken one step while the one you dared relieve of his weapon would be twisting off your head.”
“Dez?”
Her pet name. Inwardly, he smiled. “It is good I will not have to dismember the creatures saving us. You have slept many days.”
Another hallucination? She was dreaming. Had to be. Because, if this was hell, float her in Styx. She stared at his black suede leggings, obviously the lick and stick kind that left nothing of his form to the imagination. Nothing. Her eyes feasted as if forever starved of such a fine specimen. Boots rose mid-thigh making her wish like hell that she could be leather for just one minute. Billowing black shirt hung open, exposing very sculpted made-for-sex chest. Good Lord, he looks like he just stepped from a pirate ship! Screw floating down Styx, chain my ass to the bunk in yer’ cabin. Ahoy, matey!
His brow arched, azure eyes glittering. He ached that she’d cried needlessly; he soared she’d cried over him.
Oh, you so can be the strawberries on my cheesecake. Her tongue darted out and quickly licked her bottom lip.
Dezenial laughed outright. Only his Emily would think outrageous thoughts about a killer Lumynari. Strawberries indeed!
“What the hell makes you so happy? How dare you burst in here as if nothing’s amiss, yet I’m surrounded by . . . by the deadliest looking Lumynari I’ve ever seen!”
“You’ve seen your share?”
Emily scowled.
“You live. What else would have one smile here in this city under your Forest Lords’ barbaric country?” Dezenial muttered something in his watery language. The Halloween monsters vacated their posts and filed out through fluttering curtains she’d yet to notice. A terrace, or so she briefly spied before curtains fell back into place. Were those tall buildings carved from granite?
“I’m naked, Dezenial.”
“I’m aware your state of undress.”
Emily snorted. “Hope you got an eyeful. It’ll be your last. I can’t feel any pain. Magic? How long will it last? Do you have Motrin down here?” She craned her neck, trying to see beyond the curtains. She glanced to see what he was doing, then stopped and stared. An expression had crossed his face, so fleeting, she’d wondered if she’d seen it at all.
“You’re healed.”
“You said I’ve been here, days.” Her frown deepened to match her confusion. “No way can I possibly be healed that quickly. You were sliced across your stomach.” Her brows shot up. “There’s not even a mark on you.”
“Hours.”
“Hours?”
“How long it took for your wounds to completely regenerate. And then days that you have lain in my bed.”
“Your bed?
“You would prefer someone else’s?”
“You would prefer I punch you?” She smiled sweetly.
“These will be your chambers.”
“As in, I’m staying? Where will you be sleeping?”
He leveled a look at her. “You have somewhere else you’d rather be?”
“Home would be nice.”
“Ah, but would you be more safe than here, in my care?”
“I’ve insulted you. Sorry. I wish to return to my home.” Quickly, she waved her hand to deflect the possibility he’d misunderstood her meaning. “Not home with Broc and his clan. I want to return to the states. Where are we? There’s no way a city exists underground and has remained undiscovered.”
“Yet, you broke your fast amongst Elves and immortals.”
“Are you being a smartass?”
He sighed heavily. “You are in Balkore, the portion I have seized from my mother.” Dezenial bowed. “You are a most honored guest.” Slowly, a grin spread upon his smoky gray face.
“I recognize a devious grin when I see one, Mr. Man.”
“You’re a bit of a prisoner as well.” He smirked.
“Prisoner?”
“For your own good.”
“My own good?”
He scowled. “Yes!”
Emily flinched.
“Your own good. Should I set you free, you would no doubt traipse into tunnels, exploring . . . most likely captured again. We cannot have that. I swore oath to protect you, though you prove most difficult.”
“Difficult? Difficult?”
Was he grinding his teeth? Men! No matter the species, they need women cowering and molded into thank you sir, may I have another? Folding her arms, leaning back and drawing up her legs, she attempted to ignore him. The blanket began slipping. She tucked it deeper between her cleavage.
“I assure you, you needn’t observe modesty for my sake.”
“It’s for mine, Lumynari!” Her glittering eyes hacked him. “Where did those others go?” She nudged with her chin towards the terrace she’d spied.
“They guard you against any who would enter without my permissi
on.”
Emily leaned forward. “What’s going on, Dezenial?”
“You are remaining under my protection until Drakar has been dealt with. In the meantime, you are to be cherished as you are, a royal guest in my domain. Be careful your judgments, Lady Emily, of what you see and hear around you. My world differs from yours—“
“No shit.”
“Save your sarcasm for when we are alone. In public, your quips will succeed in your execution.”
“Execution? As in, kill me?”
“Is there another form of execution perhaps I am not aware of?”
“Are you always so rude?”
“Do you always repeat every word spoken to you? You are forbidden to question me. I have spoken, you are simply to listen and obey. Do you understand my command?”
“That’s it!” Emily snatched the sheet. “Mombo warrior decides, because I have a set of tits,” yanking free, irately sweeping herself off the bed, “I’m to be dominated! And then dares to waltz in wearing waxed-on-leather!” Furiously wrapping the fabric around her torso, Emily lifted the makeshift toga hem and raised her chin as if adorned in a gown of high society. Storming the arrogant Lumynari, she halted a breath away and glared up into—
“Are you wearing contacts? No way are those real blue?” She shook her head. And fought neurosis . . . she barely reached his chest. A very lickable chest. Why can’t he be the one imprisoned naked?
Dezenial nearly choked but succeeded in tamping down laughter over her audacious musings.
“Just who do you think you are?” She threw up her hand, halting his answer. “You assume because you can snarl, look ferocious and surround yourself with Halloween Wannabe’s, I’m to cower every stinkin’ time you speak?” Emily jabbed his chest with each word. “You listen to me, and make sure you get every word.” She exchanged jabbing him for animating her hand. “Since landing in this country, that mind you, I’ve spent my adulthood drooling over the chance to see, I’ve been run off the road and just about killed by a ghost.” She raised her hand. “I’m not finished, MacDaddy.”
She ignored his eyes igniting into red orbs—literally red. Flames rollicked in place of pupils. Almost, she rolled her eyes. Boys and their toys.
“I’ve been enlightened about Elves, magic, immortality, oh, not to mention people who, at will, manifest themselves into a cat and a horse. Please, let’s not forget the talking sword who seemed incredibly eager to educate me about Lumynari.” She resumed jabbing his chest—filing for later analysis the rock hardness of it. “I’ve been whisked away by spiders big enough to stuff and mount above a fire—“
“Spinners.”
She flung her hand. “Whatever. Beaten, stripped, and then, whipped until my back felt like it had met up with a cheese grater. And you—“
She jabbed him again.
“Stand here fully clothed and think to accuse me of being difficult?” Bitter laughter bubbled up inside her. “What have you done to earn my respect that I would ever obey you about anything? You’ve lost your ever-loving mind. I do not obey anything male. Ever!”
“I have hot water, soap, thick towels, your land-dwelling precious hair conditioners,” he bent closer to her face, “and, coffee.”
“Coffee?”
Throaty chuckling emanated from the doorway. Emily whipped around. And gawked. “What’s in the water down here that there are two of you who look . . . edible?”
“You will not take a bite of him,” Dezenial warned, laughter in his voice.
Garbled words were exchanged between the two males. As tall and obviously as arrogant as Dezenial, glowing white hair cascading to his waist, the stranger glided closer. He reminded her of a jungle cat. Baldric strap was his singular torso attire, he too preferring tight black leggings and boots. Emily’s eyes dropped down. So did her jaw. He possessed thighs bodybuilders could never hope to achieve.
She snapped out of her ogling. “What are you two saying?”
“Humans never live through a standoff against Lumynari,” the stranger said. “You lack fear of us, or commonsense.” He shrugged. “I’ve yet to decide.”
Emily’s eyes flashed. Unknowingly to her, they glowed amber. Laughter erupted from Dezenial as he stepped in front of her, blocking her view. And her rage. Her eyes extinguished.
“You aren’t going to offer an introduction?” Emily quipped.
Her new enemy gave her a black layered look. “An introduction is a call to challenge. Is this what you seek?”
Emily shoved past Dezenial. “If it is your wish to battle just because I ask your name, than keep it, but so too, since it has been announced these are my quarters, you are dismissed from my having to view you in them.” Batting her eyes, she offered her best bitchy smile.
In the span of five minutes, Dezenial laughed more than he had in a lifetime. On the threshold of nearly ten thousand years in age, that was saying a lot.
Much to Emily’s frustration, whomever Dezenial’s buddy was, the schmuck mistook her for a standup comic as well. Refusing to be intimidated, she stared down—well, up, since she’d be lucky to head-butt his chest . . . if she jumped—the irksome male. He reciprocated, not bothering to hide his growing anger. A long slim scar ran the gamut down his bronze chest. They really suffer god-complexes, the way they show off their bodies.
Dezenial threw his head back, his laughter contagious when he spoke again to his friend in their language, sharing Emily’s mental accusation.
“You said you had coffee. You made it sound as if you were offering a bath too. Would it be too much to ask to receive such hospitality, or do I have to forfeit something?” She’d yet to cease her glaring on the cretin just as formidable as Dezenial. His scar recaptured her attention. Visually, she traced it’s length. Emily’s mischievous grin amused her audience.
Her next words sobered them.
“I gave you that.” Images flittered making the two males swim in and out of focus. Her smile turned malicious. “My intention was to claim your death.”
“Keer’dra?” Her voice had changed. Husky. With an accent from long, long ago . . .
“You spied upon me as I trained. I chased you. We battled.” Confusion marred her features. “Then, you vanished, nothing more than a shadow.” She turned to Dezenial. “Will you yet again cradle me in death, sending me to your father, your brethren my executioners?”
“A very long time ago, Keer’dra.”
“I asked you a question, Shadow Master!”
Almond shaped eyes narrowed, flashing with fury. “You are a guest, but never underestimate my graciousness. Speak to me with respect, or your life is what you will forfeit.”
Amber glow heightened in Emily’s eyes. “Promise?” she hissed, teeth clenched. Her blanket fell away, fluttering to shroud her ankles. “Think to keep me without cloth; therefore, dominate?” Lethally, she took a step towards Dezenial. “Do you dare imprison me, Dezenial, son of Hades?”
Her nakedness was pure beauty to his parched eyes of the soft flesh he’d held securely during her healing slumber. Her audacity was a balm to his forever-present fury. He found himself thoroughly humored. “Princess Emily, you are but a guest whom I keep in order to spare your life.” He stepped closer, towering. “Do you threaten mine?” Feral smile matched glint of death in his eyes. “I am aware your power . . . are you, Emily?” Unintelligible words were muttered, his hand suddenly thrusting outward as if showering her with something.
Emily blinked several times. A strangeness within her faded. “Dez?” Cool air blasted against her skin. She squealed, covering her breasts. “What are you doing?” She turned away, shamed in her nakedness, shamed for the tears coursing down her face.
Another blackout. When are they going to stop?
She was naked. In front of a being she couldn’t explain how, but loved. Would he leave her yet again? Best to keep him away from my heart. Like Broc, he’ll turn on me. And now, he induced humility to encourage me to hate him. Why? Ah, because I dared have fe
elings for him. Can’t have that. Can’t have disgusting Emily, the human, falling for—
Whisper-soft, the blanket draped around her shoulders, and whisked around her small frame with kind hands.
“Thank you.” She lifted tear-filled eyes up to Dezenial.
It was the stranger providing her modesty. Kindly, he smiled down at her. An offer she instinctively knew very few had ever seen. It was the first time she’d ever been in the company of someone with the same odd colored eyes as her own. She dropped her head, looking back down at the thick rug, her long hair blessedly hiding her flaming face.
“Inzyr are what allies are permitted to call me.”
“Emily, is what everyone calls me.” She’d yet to lift her gaze. “Just, Emily.” She shivered. “Dare I ask what your enemies call you?”
“Vergla.”
“Yes, of course. Pfff.”
“Death.”
“I think my heart just stopped.”
Belying cruelties his hands were capable of, very gently they swept her hair aside, enabling him a better view of her face. “You are brave, Just Emily. Most brave. Your boldness astounds many. Be careful your courage, for it makes you daring in the face of certain death.” He leaned closer to her ear. “We Lumynari thrive on such challenges, Just Emily.”
A flicker of apprehension coursed through her. Her eyes were liquid amber, tears waiting to spill. Something about him . . .
“Who are you?” She felt . . . safe? How? From him? Impossible. Stress was speeding her down the boulevard to Lunacy Square.
“I am many things in the dark of night which you humans fear.” Inzyr shrugged. “Some think to imitate our ways, but as mortals, they botch it, ending up in your prisons.” He chuckled. “Fools. Like children playing with fire.”
“Am I in danger of you?” Emily sought reassurances from Dezenial but instead, drew more confused by their amusement.
Inzyr cupped her face, forcing her to look up at him. He was so much taller than she, like Dezenial. “You are not in danger from me . . . for the moment.” His glance clipped over her shoulder. “But, I am not in love with you, Just Emily, so do not tempt your goddess, the Lady Fate, where my temper is concerned.” His boyish grin contradicted the deadly intent of his gaze. “My goddess relishes death. Encourages it. The more torturous, the more she approves. And my mother, well, let us simply pray you never look into her eyes.”
