by Karey Brown
She stopped and slowly turned to look at her mate from across the vast room.
“I know your pain, Emily. It has been a burden settling deeply in my heart, but no longer. Never will you be parted from me again.” His eyes glowed softly. “Eternity, Keer’dra.”
“I’m starving.”
His glowing eyes heightened, perusing her body.
“Not for that! Food. Spicy. I’m craving Mexican food.”
“Show her the book, the illustration,” Inzyr interrupted, his scrutiny unwavering of the market below. “We need to know.”
Dezenial’s eyes were focused so heatedly on her cleavage, her breasts burned.
“First thing I’m requesting are real clothes.”
“Denied.”
She giggled, crossing her arms.
Dezenial flashed a smile.
She looked down. “Oh!” Quickly, she dropped her arms, her chest having been pushed up even more as if offering him a platter. “I need that sweater.”
“Put it on and suffer severe consequences.”
“Then stop staring. What picture are you two grumbling about?”
“Here, take a look.” Dezenial picked up a book, opened where a marker stuck out—
“What is that?” She pointed at the marker. “It looks . . . like beef jerky.”
“A tongue.”
Emily gasped.
“You thought we jest?”
Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. No good. Her voice was stuck somewhere between shock and disgust.
Dezenial turned the thin volume towards her. She reached out, using a pillar to steady herself. “Does he realize what a place like this would cost in New York?”
“It costs me down here as well,” Inzyr growled. “Should be free, for all that I do.”
“I was speaking about money. How much it costs in money.”
“Must you think everything we do results in bloodshed?” Dezenial asked.
She jabbed the air just above what had been a tongue.
“Yeah, okay, there is that. Your father keeps souvenirs.”
“Oh, God.” Emily gulped. “Not to mention fangs protruding when irked, eyes glowing red when enraged, favorite pastime beheading and removing,” her eyes dropped to the bookmark, “tongues, and weapons that would have Homeland Security swearing they’d finally found weapons of mass destruction—“
He laughed. “I’ve heard of that search.”
“You have?”
“I live in Balkore, Keer’dra, but I assure you, we are not ostriches.”
“Ostriches?”
“Bury thy head in the sand, suddenly, reality no longer exists.”
“You’re freaking me out. Yes, I believe every route you travel is for the final gain of bloodshed.”
“For many Lumynari, it’s tradition.”
“You claimed your kingdom was different, but that dwarf was just sold.”
A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “He arrived at the entrance a free being. Once permitted in, he falls under the laws of my territory. His brethren will take with them tales of their fallen comrade’s consequences. Next time temperamental dwarves visit my kingdom, they will remember they are guests here and maybe will seek to adhere to my laws.”
Emily snorted.
“You disagree?”
“More like, they enter, they’re secretly tagged. Belligerent ones are then insulted, set up with the beforehand knowledge they’ve explosive tempers. Your cronies have the perfect alibi to purchase the unsuspecting victims, bet spectators on which will survive, then toss the hapless creature into this arena.”
Dezenial turned and looked at Inzyr.
“Vaifyr.”
“What does that mean?”
“Daughter. Dwarves have never been trustworthy, nor ally. Conversation transpires all the while their eyes dart, assessing our holdings, so they may aptly report to their king what they have seen of value. In a few days, as every time after open market, the scavengers return with their pathetic weaponry in hopes of conquering and claiming dwellings and riches not theirs for the taking.” He turned his back on her, his post never neglected. “Word of you has reached them. Those who arrived today were here for no other reason than to see you for themselves, then plot your capture and sell you to the highest bidder: Drakar, or Shadow. My spies are much more fluent in weeding out information, the dwarves never bright enough to realize I am always several steps ahead of them. That one who you witnessed being sold had orders to capture you, alive,” he looked at her for long moments, “or dead.”
“Oh.”
“I will amuse myself with him later, in the arena. It has already been arranged. I told you, none attempt to harm what is mine.”
Emily swallowed. Hard.
“Come, wife.” Dezenial waggled the small book, then reopened it to a page he’d wanted her to view. Grateful to change the subject, she stepped closer and craned her neck in order to see around his large bicep. She inhaled.
“Your thoughts cloud my thinking,” he warned.
“Your near nakedness clouds mine. That’s it! That’s the same medallion . . . wait a damn minute! It’s the same one Blade had me locate in this small trunk thingy. Why are they so damned determined I wear this?”
“Determined to shroud you. A lapse in time occurred, cloaking you from my mind. It was the same when you were a child for many years. You wore this, this amulet he gave you?”
“Yes, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and was going to take it off once I boarded the plane, but, honestly, I forgot about it. I don’t remember wearing one as a kid.”
“I transported my mind back to your dwelling, hoping to garner information of your whereabouts. It was where I found the human male, Peter and attached to his mind. Very dark, that one, for a human.”
“Right at home, weren’t you?”
“He had visions of torture upon your person that I will never reveal to you.”
“Trust me, I’ve seen enough movies, I have a pretty good imagination.” She looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. “You forget, I was there for some of his ideas.”
Dezenial entered her mind with more than just their connection. Strength enveloped her. She felt him as if physically placing his strong arms around her. Gently, her fingertips rested on his arm. “I know nothing like that will happen again.”
“Arrogant.”
“Regardless of you being in my mind, I doubt you truly understand the depth of what I feel for you.” She looked away, embarrassed by her words, and his stunned silence.
“Anyway, I was wearing the medallion and really didn’t notice it missing, just figured it was lost during the car accident. I found another in a chest, hidden in a room. Broc’s castle—can we change the subject?” She turned.
His hand snaked out, grabbing her arm. “You miss your Forest Lord?”
“He hurt my feelings. You’d rather I lie? You dwell in my mind. You tell me what I’m thinking.”
“He betrayed you.”
“Then why are we discussing it?”
“Perhaps I need to eradicate him from your memories?”
“You can do that?”
He grinned. “You would begin to experience lapses and, in the end, would resent me, wondering what else I’ve forced you to forget.”
“And, of course, you’ve never done this before.”
His eyes burned brilliantly, then cleared. “You will regain memory of a personal server—“
Emily’s eyes widened. “I forgot about him . . . no? You’re shaking your head. You eradicated the memory?”
“You seemed transfixed over amputation of his hands.”
“Wait, what? When?”
“Your first dinner amongst my scheming guests. He was assigned to prepare and serve your meals. Apparently, the chore was above him. So, he’s now missing his hands. Hungry?”
“For hands? Oh. Real food. If I gnaw the furniture, would you be convinced I’m starving?” With each word, her voice grew in pitc
h.
“Females are temperamental when hungry.”
“Hence the term: raging hormones.”
She hightailed it to the galley and began foraging. “I’d really enjoy bottled water.”
“You have been provided the necessary nutrients and liquids in my kitchen. Touch nothing you do not recognize. We eat differently.” Inzyr turned back towards the massive pane. “The fungus we use for spice might kill you. Dezenial, your attention.”
She wondered what they debated, what Inzyr pointed at. Mutterings could be heard as she rummaged through a cabinet of odd foods, then glanced the two males as her father pointed to stalagmites in the far distance, eye level with the great window. Food, then nap. They’ll be able to speak more freely. “Squeeee! You have Oreos?! And, they’re Double stuff! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” She ripped open the bag and inhaled. They could have their secrets. She had gold right here!
Respect I do not keep secrets from you in betrayal, but in protection of your mind and what I know you can and cannot yet handle, Keer’dra. Just as I have removed the human scourge from your life, all things pertaining to you are now through me.
Nodding, she didn’t bother looking at him as she twisted apart another cookie, licked the white treat from one side; gobbled the other. What the hell to drink around here?
A smile of satisfaction, their mental connection now subconscious to her, he resumed his attention on spies attempting to slip past scrutiny.
She whirled, facing him. “Be wary, Lumynari, for so too can I see your thoughts . . . though Emily may not.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Amber eyes illuminated the large dim room she found herself in.
“What is your desire with the modern, that you dare claim her as your own?” Her hand shot out. “Sheath your weapon, Lord Inzyr. It is not my wish to war this day. You sire her by my choosing, and Hades’ wicked humor.” She tossed her head a bit, luminous hair swaying and shimmering. “Resentful, I thought to cast a twist of fate by being reborn as the Lumynari the Elders despised. But,” amber gaze softened on Dezenial, “I had not realized the depth of our bond. I think your father knew, however, which explains why he readily agreed to my proposal.” She shook her head. “The extent you have taken, vowing allegiance to her . . . many things have changed in this age I find myself visiting. It would seem you father delights in keeping his secrets. Yet, some events remain consistent, such as the Outlander betraying Emily’s trust. You restore her dignity, but both of you will shed your lives, should this be Lumynari-intrigue In all the lives this soul has lived, each has ended at the hands of your brethren.” She took a step closer, her voice lowering. “Emily may not have the power to slay you, but I do. She will not die prematurely, as we have before. I vow it!” She inhaled deeply. “Great effort is required to submerged into Balkore, the journey exhausting the last of my strength. I will return within Emily no more. Which is why, here and now, Dezenial and Inzyr, you either survive, or forfeit your lives.”
“Remaining veiled, you watch, yet now you show yourself.” Dezenial’s voice oozed lethally across the chasm between them. “Why? I have sensed you, but thought you realized my feelings.”
“Lumynari prize themselves in the art of revenge. It isn’t necessarily the death, but rather, the destruction of their victim’s mind. Complete annihilation. What better way to disintegrate Emily’s, than to convince her of your love . . . then mock her for believing you were actually capable of such an emotion?” Amber glow heightened. “Degradation would follow, amusing to your kind the insult to command, having any whim obeyed.”
“She is my daughter.”
“Because I allowed it. And since when do Lumynari claim offspring, especially an Im’pyur? I was under the impression you would rid yourself of your get as quickly as possible. I was to walk in the Outlander’s world, not yours. Yet, contradicting the Lumynari of my time, you claim Emily, regardless the consequences.”
“You would prefer I treat her as Xyn did you?”
“Fair enough.” Aurelia contemplated Dezenial’s words. “It has not passed from my memory, your words that eased my pain, nor your caress as I died.” She glided closer. “Your father was most kind and protective. But, tell me, will Emily die as I have three times before? Oh yes, Prince Dezenial, I, as Aurelia, am very aware of our time as children, along the beach, running, playing, splashing each other . . . until your mother learned of your friendship with a human child and had me killed for daring such liberties.”
Dezenial’s eyes glistened, his voice a whisper. “Almost ten millennia ago. I had not forgotten; I had not realized that child was part of . . . great Zeus.”
“A long time, you and I have been entwined.” She lifted her hair off the back of her neck before allowing it to fall back into place. “Each time, you live, I die.”
Dezenial’s fist clenched. “I cower from nothing. I answer to none. You dare show your presence. It is not my nature to ask twice your reasons, regardless who you are.”
“I will answer your question when I reached an accord to do so.”
Dezenial’s gaze flatlined.
Aurelia’s hand flung out. A great clattering resounded. “I will not warn you again, Inzyr, sheath your various weapons, or find yourself being put through your viewing glass.” Her brow arched. “Doubt my power? I am not little Emily. I have full faculties, and am sure those down below will find it quite amusing the great assassin lays quivering, every bone broken.”
She snapped her fingers. Inzyr slammed against the window. “My threats are not idle, Shadow Master.” Her eyes flicked to Dezenial. “You cannot keep her here forever. You know this. I would know your crusade,” she demanded. “She loves you deeply, though she battles herself. Humans complicate everything. I tell you this most innermost sanctum of emotions previous to giving you counsel.”
“I need no counsel from a sorceress.”
Aurelia laughed.
Dezenial found he did not like this woman, nor the sound of her bitterness.
“Deception is like death. Eventually, its stench leads to the pillage. You cannot ever rule Quemori. But, Dezenial, son of Shadow and Hades, she will grant you entrance. She will even crown you. Forever, she annihilates rules. Be that your intent?”
“I rule here.”
“Yet even now, your mother plots your death and to capture of the Keeper’s soul.”
Dezenial’s jaw ticked.
“You didn’t know? The priestess outside this very door was sent, your mother knowing the female would gain Inzyr’s interest. Her mind is not her own. Your mother travels within her, seeking entrance to the one chamber she is barred from.”
Inzyr growled, his own fangs lengthening.
“Think me fool, Shadow Master? Three thousand years residing with your sire, I learned a few things. You have crossed over and become the Dark Prince. Your time here is marked. Again, I ask, what is your intent?”
“Quemori holds no interest.”
“Why is it, your hunt for Drakar has thus far failed, with the advantage of so many centuries to proceed? Does your skill fritter away?”
Dezenial charged.
And catapulted back, up over the couch and landed in a heap. “Once more, and then I finish this, most especially before your mother has a chance to yank free our souls. I will take both myself and Emily back to Hades.”
The Dark Prince slowly picked himself off the floor. When he turned to face his nemesis, powerful wings erupted from his spine. Eyes were now burning fires of Hell. Fingers elongated into talons, fangs sharp and ready to sever arteries. “Think to take Emily from me?” he said in a voice Inzyr had not heard in several millennia. “I will swim the vile Styx to retrieve her, after I have made sure you’ve burned for eternity!” Dezenial gaze broiled. Inzyr’s loft glowed red. Shadows slithered and hissed as they climbed down the walls. “I-will-not-live-without-her!” Floor vibrated and shook, toppling various artifacts Inzyr collected.
Emily’s sharp wit, and sca
thing tongue amused him. But it was her complete love, freely given, and the way she made him her slayer against all her dragons that endeared her to him. He loved her to the depths of—
“I resided in your father’s realm. Your daemons and shadows do not frighten me. Call them off, and leash your fury. I merely need you to understand, I am not Emily. My questions will be answered. Is this too much for you to bear?”
“Rumors swarmed of a sealed room being disturbed,” Dezenial’s voice dropped, “in a castle no longer in existence for this realm.” He breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm. Because the alternative would be that all of Balkore would be reduced to a burning pit of sulfur.
Aurelia pondered his words for a few minutes. “Dulinia’s chambers. Beyond evil. Voices lingered from spirits she’d manipulated.”
“My father has them now, Lady Aurelia,” he soothed. “But a book was taken.”
“Book? Saints! I know of which you speak. Do not utter a word from that tomb! You must destroy it! Only the fires of—“
“Olympus.”
“Not even your powers will withstand what I witnessed etched on those parchments.”
“I am a god. A few spells are hardly a danger—“
“It is the Book of Hera, written as she cried tears of blood when Zeus slept with another.”
“A scorned woman.”
“A very lethal book—against male gods.”
“The human it was placed upon was murdered. Possession is not mine for the claiming, though I now understand my mother’s fixation in obtaining it. Hmmm. Inzyr?”
“Puzzle pieces fitting together,” the assassin said. “Now we understand why Shadow tolerates Drakar.”
“And why he dares to transgress her authority,” Dezenial finished.
Aurelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “You two make my head pound. You are like Aunsgar with his infuriating riddles.”
“Drakar possesses the book, though in a different realm. My mother’s voracious quest is to own this book.”
Aurelia tapped her lips thoughtfully. “It explains his continued presence. His madness must know no bounds, having lived this long, for, I assure you, Drakar does not enjoy any god in his lineage. But your mother coddles him, and that is something.”
