by Karey Brown
“He forges Broc and the blade as one . . . as it was for Emily and Aurelia.”
“I will no’ stand by, Elf, and allow him to be killed under the guise of good magic.” Garreck pointed his claymore at Aunsgar. “We are victims of such sorcery already.”
“Broc is not being killed.” Aunsgar sidestepped Garreck’s blade, and lowered his voice. “Trust me in this. I too would not allow anything to happen to him.”
Garreck studied the Elf for brief seconds and saw no lie in his words. Nodding his ascent, he lowered his weapon. Surrounding Forest Lords did likewise.
“But, Aunsgar,” Garreck whispered in Elvish, “if our laird dies, this forging nothing more than treachery, you will be the first to join him on his journey to meet our ancestors.”
* * * * *
“I hate my hair pulled back, pinned, coifed, braided.”
“You will be grateful. Down here, long, loose flowing hair enables enemies an advantage, should any take temporary leave of their minds and actually attack.”
“I don’t think I need to weapons train.” Emily waggled her fingers to emphasize her point.
“There are weapons far surpassing fire from your hands.”
“My head is killing me. Just what was in that little drink you gave me last night?” Neon green, and in a decadent reed thin crystal flute, Dezenial set it atop a flame before passing it to her.
“I explained it was to make you relax and sleep. My body stretched out next to yours would have kept you too . . . distracted.” He waved his hand, dismissing the subject. The night had been worse than the whips slicing into his flesh. Her body had been molten with desire. An untouched maiden, she’d made his blood boil, but he was determined The Claiming would only commence when she fully understood its consequences. He would not have her screaming in sheer terror when witnessing his true form during the ritual of merging her soul with his.
The she-devil started snapping her fingers at him. By Hades, she tried his patience today.
“Hello? Anybody home? Earth to Dezenial. Ah, have your attention now, eh? Red glowing eyes don’t impress me, you’re wasting the effort. As I was saying, we will find other sleeping arrangements. Sleeping with a man is unacceptable.”
“But then, I am not a man, am I?” he hissed, teeth clenched. “Furthermore, your vows are of no consequence when you are powerless to see them through. You will continue slumbering next to me.” His gaze narrowed. “Until you breathe your last. But, never fear,” he folded his arms, “your precious virginity is safe.”
“Why I share the details of my life is beyond me. Don’t you have prisoners to torment? Heads to lop off?”
“Are there pins in your chair?”
“No . . . I don’t think so.” Emily twisted, searching the velvet stool she sat upon as her hair was plaited into hundreds of thin braids. The women had been pulling at her scalp for hours.
Dezenial yawned. “You seem to be prickly this day. I was curious if—“
“Prickly?” Waving wildly as if shooing flies, Emily succeeded in scattering her stylists. She charged Dezenial. “You dare begin my day practicing incantations and telepathy with that evil incarnate puppet of yours, Inzyr, then you enhance my mood by having my hair yanked and tugged.” She jabbed his chest with each word. “I.need.coffee. I cannot start my day any other way. I need caffeine. I need dark and sweet—“
Erotic grin smeared his face.
She backhanded his chest. “Not that, perv! Please, I’ll do anything . . . coffee.” She clenched her temples. “I’m going to shave my head. These are torturing me. No wonder Shadow Masters are always pissed off. I’d be in a killing mood too—let go!” She smacked Dezenial’s bared chest as he dipped towards her, effortlessly tossing her across his shoulder. She resumed pelting his backside.
WHACK!
Emily arched. Bloodcurdling scream echoed. “You hit me!”
“You were not spanked enough as a child.” He vacated his solar and entered a wide corridor.
“That hurt.” She sniffed, eyes watering.
“It was meant to. I grow weary of your complaints.”
“You meant to hurt me?” She began rubbing her hands.
“Once spark of heat felt upon my legs and I will teach you the true meaning of torture, Keer’dra.”
Emily diffused her hands. His chuckled ignited something dark deep within her.
“Put me down. This is degrading.”
“Exactly.”
Teeth sank viciously into his flesh.
Howling male rage ricocheted throughout carved-from-granite tunnel. Another whack resonated followed by a scream of pain. “Dick!” She collapsed against him, tears of pain streaming down her forehead, saturating her hair. She would never spank a child. God damn, but spankings were painful!
And then, she spied it.
Whipping dagger from his thigh scabbard, her hand reared to plunge lethal blade into his leg. Dezenial tossed her to the ground, his hand clasping her throat. “Decide quickly, Princess Emily. Forfeiture of your life, should that weapon touch my flesh.”
She swiped across his midsection, forcing him to release her neck and jump back, lest he be sliced in two. Tamping down Lumynari rage, blue eyes became glacier. “None take weapon—“
“I warned you, numb-nuts, I need coffee!” Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, crouched and ready. “Would you care to tempt fate again?” Emily’s voice lowered. “This time, there will remain scars across your belly.”
His eyes morphed into red flames.
“Ahhhh, getting a little angry?” she cajoled. “You will learn, spanking me isn’t going to be something you repeat. Ev-er!”
He muttered something in his language.
“Cast your spells. Too afraid to fight fairly?”
“No, I warn mercenaries, should you draw blood, not to kill you.”
Emily whipped her head around.
Dezenial pounced, grabbing her tightly around her waist, squeezing the dagger from her fingers. Yowling with pain, the blade clattered loudly against the ground. “It is time you understand I can be pushed only so far,” he hissed behind her ear.
Her skull smashed his face. Abruptly released, she fell painfully onto her knees and rolled away. It was very satisfying to see his blood dripping on the ground. She lunged, retrieved the dagger and resumed her crouch. Sardonic amusement lit her face as she watched her opponent swipe blood from his mouth.
“Think again before offering lessons, oh teacher,” she mocked.
“I will not continue this game you play. Your skill is amateur.”
“Yet you bleed.”
“You think to battle me?”
“You spanked me. You started it. I plan on finishing it.” She began swaying, alternating her weight between each foot. Only thing missing from this stance is a tennis racket.
Hysteria threatened.
“You are spoiled and in need of discipline.”
Her humor vanished. “Discipline?” She stood upright, and statue-still.
Deep hurt from his words was not lost on him. “A beating if you are not careful,” he teased, attempting to lighten her already fragile emotions.
She tossed the knife aside. “Perhaps you should consult with Peter on just how to accomplish that. Come near me anytime soon, Lumynari, I’ll rip you limb from limb.” She spun around, and charged towards an armed garrison. “Get out of my way,” she hissed, throwing up her arm. Shock nearly halted her when they hastened to obey. Rapid footfalls from behind, her neck prickling with apprehension.
Emily whirled.
Dezenial pursued, lethal intent unmistakable.
She seethed. Thrusting her hand high left and then right, muttering words as clearly as if reading a passage from a book of spells, all present were amazed, including herself, at the blue arcs of light appearing. Streaks of light melded, twisted and created a cage-wall of sorts.
Dezenial was brought up short, unable to pass through the webbed lights.
“
Wanna know why I seem so bitter, so angry? It’s not that I’m ungrateful, quite the contrary. But, you are under the impression that, because I’m human, I’m to be treated like an idiot; furthermore, Mr. Dezenial, not one time have either you, nor Broc, respected that I want-to-go-home! You both wave me off like nothing more than a gnat. So, piss off!” She offered a little waggle of her fingers. “Buh-bye.”
“Keer’dra! You are not safe to travel these caverns alone. Keer’dra! Your temper will be your death!”
She rammed her middle finger in the air and rounded a bend away from him without a second glance. Out from his line of vision, she sprinted.
Earsplitting roar, the likes she would later compare to jets taking off, deafened. Rocks tumbled. She was thrown to the ground by the quake. From behind, explosions of red light arced. “Oh, shit!” Ominous shadow loomed, stretching towards her. It was nothing compared to the beast stalking its wake.
As if in slow motion, Dezenial strode purposefully around the bend she’d just cleared. His head lowered, his expression was something she’d never seen in him. Eyes burned crimson. Tiny bones weaved into the ends of his lunar hair flew back from the force of his advance upon her. Black thigh boots, skintight leggings, his torso bare, fists clenched—death personified.
Emily shrieked. Standing on shaky legs, she fled. Lacking direction of where she could hide, she glanced over her shoulder. He was closing in! From nowhere, a guard stepped out, flail swinging like a pendulum. Brought up short, Emily gawked at the two inch spikes protruding from the ball, and the killer eager to shred her with it. Enemy, or called upon by Dezenial? He didn’t advance, just made sure she knew, he was there to stop her. Confirmation this was one of Dezenial’s goons, not an assassin.
Raising her chin, she turned and faced down her nemesis. Counting his steps, she didn’t bother praying to entities. They had abandoned her long ago. He terminated his advance, his chest against her, forcing her to look up at him as he loomed over her.
“You will learn,” he inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, “to defy me is to die.”
“Death doesn’t scare me.”
“Death will be the easy part.” His hand snaked out, grasping the back of her skull, arching her head back even further. “But I have another lesson in mind for you. You need taming, hellcat.” His head dipped within inches of her face. “You will find you are in the custody of one who will succeed at such an endeavor.” His mouth hovered against her own until she could taste him, his fangs brushing against her lips. “My command will rule you forever.” His mouth plundered hers. She struggled, trying to pull away. “You will give in to me, Keer’dra. You will succumb to my power over you, and you will swallow that dangerous pride of yours.” His mouth assaulted hers again, though she tried to avert her face. Roughly, he cupped her chin. “I take what belongs to me. Shall I show you how?”
“No.” She tasted blood. Sweet. Spicy.
“Do you deny you are mine?”
“You denied me. Consider the favor returned.”
“Your lack of fear is your downfall.”
“I refuse to . . . fear . . . you.” Her body begged to differ by quaking.
Sharp fangs traced an invisible line from her collarbone to the lobe of her ear, suckling on the tender flesh for mere seconds. Emily shuddered. To her horror, her head fell back, her neck arching, silently begging for his devouring. When had he let go of her hair?
He chuckled.
Her eyes snapped open.
“I have my answer,” he sneered.
“I don’t belong to you. I belong to none. None want me. Never have. I am nothing more than a damn conquest to you, and your Lumynari pride.”
She found herself immediately ensconced within his embrace again, his mouth predatory against hers, commanding her soft lips part for his entry. His tongue dove into her mouth, grasping her own, suckling, gently pulling, his hand cupping her face with tenderness that belied his incredible strength.
Her knees buckled.
Instantly, he stepped back and coldly watched her collapse.
“Bastard,” she whispered, clutching her chest. Shards pierced her heart.
“Look at me.”
She shook her head. The guard stepped closer. Great, an audience viewed my mauling.
“You-will-look-at-me!” Ground rumbled. Her teeth rattled. What punishment would he mete, if she kept refusing and in front of his subjects? Bitterly, she raised her gaze to find his, holding it tightly, hoping he felt her agony.
“You belong to me. Do not doubt it. Do not waste my time fighting it. I grow weary waiting to claim you. Dare to test me again, and I will not be a gentleman.”
“You will never be anything more to me than what you are now, an animal.”
He hunkered down so quickly, she reared. He caught her and held her steady. What she saw in his eyes silenced her.
“Hate me for now, Emily, in this moment, but when you are no longer warmed with fury, when you shudder with chill, it will be me who warms your flesh, your heart and your soul. Only me. I am the only one who will ever understand all that you are, and accept all who you will be. Temper included. All I ask in return is to respect my authority, not to control you, but to keep you safe from those, even now, plotting your death.” He stood, turned away, and didn’t look back for the duration of his vacating her presence.
She’d never felt more alone or more small than she did right now.
“If you can pick yourself up, we will continue your training,” a voice said from behind.
The voice of her most despised antagonist.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“My life just keeps getting better. How long were you lurking, Inzyr?”
“Enough to know it fails to be much longer before you become his mate.”
“Over my dead body.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Yeah, because killing a helpless woman is such a challenge for you.” Emily stood, her legs quaking, and dusted dirt from her backside. With a sigh of disgust, she turned to face down her nemesis. A dozen or so guards stood behind him. “Oh, goody, more fans. Joy. I swear upon everything unholy down in this pit, if I don’t get coffee and food, your leg is going to become my meal. If you’re going to keep pets, Inzyr, we need to eat.”
“I’m sure we can find something dead for you to gnaw. Follow me.” He pivoted and stormed away, his long white hair flapping against the pace he set.
Long distances, they traveled in silence, the ultra-dim world offering little view other than rocks, and more rocks. Emily debated singing a ridiculous car-traveling ditty to keep terror of darkness at bay. Dehydrated, her tongue felt more like a huge glob of old gum. Just as well. No doubt, her current escort of monsters would pounce if she started singing One Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall. Save for the guard nearly glued to her ass, each of the creatures possessed the same lunar white hair, glowing like Inzyr’s—like her own. The assassin wore an unclasped jerkin, but the others wore leather body armor, their shoulder padding coming to jagged points tipped with silver. She slammed into Inzyr. When had he stopped?
“Do not question me.” He set her from him. “Argue, and I’ll have no qualms tearing your tongue from that vicious little mouth. You attempted to save Dezenial’s life when stepping in front of the whip master, and again when you torched your prison guard. For that, I tolerate you. I will not, however, tolerate your disobedience where we’re about to step into.”
Emily sighed, weary of arguments and threats. Dezenial? No answer. “Had I realized the depth of your hatred, I would not have imposed upon you for something as simple as breakfast.”
“It is the middle of the night, just so we’re clear on how little you know.”
“Tell me again how I’d distinguish this in your world of forever-dark? Why don’t we skip the pleasantries, and just begin this training so utterly beneath you, that we may part company, or I kill myself—whichever comes first.”
“You are in need of nourishm
ent.”
“I don’t need handouts from the likes of you. You hate me,” she shrugged. “Whatever. Don’t really care for your tight ass either, but, apparently, daddy feels I need babysitting.” Her pointed stare dared him to react to her insult, her brow arching of its own volition.
Contempt slithered down his towering body, crawled across the floor and was such a tangible thing, she could have stomped it until it bellyached back to its owner.
Inzyr unhurriedly freed his cutlass.
Emily trotted back, eyes igniting along with her hands. She stumbled against a very hard body. Over her shoulder, she looked up. Death stared back. She averted her attention back to Inzyr. He was going to kill her. Right here. No wonder Dezenial had mentally cut her off. Too chicken shit to kill her himself; too chicken shit to hear her screams.
She’d roast the assassin. Then his goon squad.
Raising her hands, blue flames engulfed her arms.
Inzyr turned away, but not before smirking. “Stay to my back, and no further. Keep that mouth of yours shut, or we visit a seamstress. They have quite a way with needles when sewing mouths shut.” He conversed in his language, drawing guffaws and obvious snorts of agreement from the surrounding Lumynaries. “And, just so we’re clear,” he flung his hand at her.
Flame snuffed.
“Strike one,” Emily warned, pretending indifference to her now flameless hands. She almost expected them to be smoking. Strike one for you too, Dezenial. Schmuck. How dare you leave me with this creature. Coward. For whatever reason, her mind conjured the image of Pendaran. Perhaps her hatred of one male required competition?
Pendaran arrogantly leaning against Castle MacLarrin’s massive entry doors. Scenes altered. He pushed away from the doors, briskly moving towards her as he unsheathed his sword. His lips were moving. Akin to watching old silent movies, there lacked sound of any kind. Her ears pounded. He raised his free hand. Medallion. Spinning. Sunlight glinted off of the silver. It had been a beautiful piece, given to her when he’d posed as a chauffeur. Sunlight again. Oh, how she missed the warmth against her skin. Closing her eyes, her head tilted back, a sigh escaped as blessed warmth caressed her face. Pendaran stalked. The medallion swayed. Back and forth . . . back and forth. A flick of his wrist and it began twirling faster and faster. Spinning silver captivated her. Shards of light grew. Each rotation, the arcs extended. Reaching. For her! Pendaran’s voice began to penetrate. From very, very far off. Garbled. Foreign. He was shouting! Emily retreated. Frightened. The medallion pulled her attention; held her.
