Witch Darkness Follows (Maeren Series Book 3)

by Mercedes Jade

  “Oh, William. I found the key to my cage a long time ago,” Phillip said with a toothy grin.

  Phillip looked down at his list and back to the vampire lord stuck between him and his brother during William’s boredom fit.

  “Lord Hase. You’re a soldier. Tell me about the last amplification circle that you used.”

  A lion in a cage might be seen by everyone, but nothing stopped him from looking back and prowling beside the bars, waiting for the one time the cage door was left ajar.

  It was about time Phillip freed his roar.

  Strap in

  Elizabeth

  Elizabeth was soaking in a metal tub full of warm water up to her chest when Daemon walked into the room, George following close behind.

  “Hey,” she protested, crossing her arms over her breasts and trying to sink a few inches more in the water.

  “Want me to scrub your back?” George offered, barely giving her a glance as he dropped something on the floor.

  “I didn’t know the accommodations were going to be shared,” she responded.

  Geer’s room looked almost the same as the last time she’d been in it, but this new tub had been a pleasure she’d assumed Geer had planned for her to enjoy while he was away.

  It was scented so perfectly, the water soft and relaxing. Surprisingly, it wasn’t girly—like rose petals or common lavender. She had sunk into a bath with earthy scents that grounded her.

  Her mother preferred lemony scented herbs and Jill liked eucalyptus bubble bath, but this was perfect for Elizabeth.

  She enjoyed sitting outside after a rain and smelling the healthy ground soaking up the water. She could sit on the porch swing for a good hour, sipping tea, and reading a book in the peaceful serenity of the morning after a good storm.

  Part of that enjoyment was the solitude, which wasn’t what was happening now.

  The tub was only big enough for her. Apparently, that didn’t mean her princes were planning to leave her to relax alone.

  Daemon walked over to the bed and dropped to sit on it, reaching down to remove the boots he had been provided by Raphael’s warriors.

  It was a good thing that shifters routinely kept extra clothes and boots around, or by the end of today, his feet would have been raw from traversing the mountains and caves.

  Daemon didn’t have George’s earth-toughened skin.

  “There aren’t enough rooms and everyone needs a rest,” Daemon told her, falling backwards and letting his top half flop onto the bed. His feet, he left dangling over the side.

  “Elizabeth, don’t dawdle. Daemon brought half of the desert dust with him into the caves. He’ll need all the hot water you can spare if he’s going to sleep with us tonight.”

  An earth-prince complaining about a little dirt?

  Now she had heard everything.

  “The bed is for me,” she clarified.

  Possibly, she could share with Daemon if she put pillows between them, but if he made a fuss, she’d give him a blanket and point him to the floor.

  “Aren’t you going to bathe?” she asked George, wrinkling her nose at him, then dunking her head under the water before he could answer.

  She heard a rumble of something in response, but couldn’t make it out under the water.

  Strong hands reached under her body, in the tub, and tugged her up.

  She sputtered another protest, but George behaved himself. His hands didn’t wander down her body.

  “Do you like your bath?” he inquired.

  “It’s very nice . . . perfect,” she admitted.

  That made Daemon groan.

  “You shouldn’t have told him that. He’s going to brag.”

  “About my bath?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Getting your bath perfect the first time,” George said. “To be honest, I doubted myself. Most females prefer floral scents.”

  Weird that he cared so much about it.

  He stayed behind her and massaged shampoo into her scalp, working all the way down into the ends of her hair.

  He had such a firm, sure touch that was made for a proper massage. His hands found the kinks in her neck and shoulders once he finished scrubbing her head.

  Was he tall enough to see her body in the clear water?

  “Are you sure you don’t want a bath after me? You went to so much trouble to prepare it,” she said.

  “I already dunked myself in the river,” George shared as he massaged.

  She could feel cold droplets, confirming his river bath, land on her shoulders as he leaned over her.

  A nip to her ear surprised her.

  “You were foolish if you thought that big bed was meant just for you. We wouldn’t be sleeping elsewhere, even if there were a thousand rooms,” George told her.

  Using a firm grip on her hair, he made her lean her head over the back of the tub. He poured clean water, until her hair rinsed clear.

  She could hear the trickle of water flowing towards the floor drain as she closed her eyes.

  It was a simple metal grate over a removable basin, which could be dumped out, effective when indoor plumbing wasn’t logistical.

  George probably wasn’t thinking about drains right now, having gotten her into a prime position to see her naked chest.

  Just the thought had her nipples tightening, her breasts bobbing between the warmer water and cooler air.

  “I had my own room in court,” Elizabeth reminded him.

  She couldn’t stand the suspense any longer as George remained quiet, done rinsing her hair.

  Opening her eyes, she saw George’s startling blues staring down at her face, not where she’d expected.

  He gave her hair a good twist and squeeze to drain the excess water.

  “We are not at court and you are not under Daemon’s claim anymore, little one.”

  George hadn’t called her that for a while. It reminded her of when she had been more naive, and he, an experienced warrior prince who had brought her to her knees.

  “I’m not under anyone’s claim, so what gives you the right to be here?” she asked.

  It was contrary.

  She wanted them both to stay with her tonight in the dark caves—surrounded by so many hungry, dragon males with powerful magic that burned against her sensitive lightning.

  Without her princes beside her, she wouldn’t have a wink of sleep.

  Well, perhaps if Geer returned early, snuck in, and slept beside her. He was comforting, even if he was also the strangest of her mates.

  Geer wasn’t set upon punishing her like her other mates.

  He also had backed off after priming her to transport them to Phillip’s side. Geer was . . . safe.

  “How easily you forget that you are my prisoner, Elizabeth Norwood,” George taunted.

  Of course.

  This felt like an abuse of George’s power.

  Then again, she was partly guilty of the crimes he’d accused her family of committing.

  She’d also snuck into the castle using lightning on the guards’ minds to ease their way, a crime George was unaware of yet.

  He reached under her arms to haul her up in the tub.

  Water cascaded over the sides as she struggled against him.

  He held her against the hot, naked skin of his chest with one thick forearm, leaning to the side to fetch a cloth for her to wrap around herself.

  “Unhand me,” she demanded.

  She tried to wrap the cloth around her body with what dignity she had left.

  Daemon was still lying on the bed with his eyes closed. It left her free to fight with George alone. If Daemon wasn’t going to help her, he’d better not aid his brother.

  George swung her out, over the tub, and back onto her feet, before releasing her.

  “I’m not dressing with you in here,” she insisted, tucking the loose end of her towel in between her breasts to hold itself up.

  “No, you’re not,” George agreed. “Dressing would defeat the purpose of your pu
nishment.”

  What?

  He grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the foot of the bed.

  There was a newly etched circle there on the floor. It was set apart from the other, chalked circle, that encircled the bed.

  Geer had used the circle around the bed to transport them to Phillip.

  This new circle’s purpose was a mystery.

  As soon as they crossed the etched circle’s boundary, she felt the strangest thing. It was if all of her magic had drained from her at once.

  She tried to use her lightning, but there wasn’t a flicker of response from her power.

  “This is a strapping circle,” George succinctly explained.

  Oh, damn.

  She fought his grip on her hand, but he wouldn’t release her. Before she could employ some of the moves that her sister had taught her, George sighed, and dragged her down as he sat on the floor in the middle of the circle.

  “Just sit and we’ll explain the plan to deal with your public insubordination,” George said.

  She gave Daemon a glance, noting his calm demeanour, and sat down on the cave floor beside George, who released her.

  It was very cold, even through the towel she’d wrapped around her.

  “You don’t give us much choice but to let George punish you, sweetheart,” Daemon said, standing up from the bed.

  “Nobody knows,” she protested. They had pretended she’d been sent on official business to the dark clan.

  George merely grunted a response, holding back on saying anything as his brother walked over to them.

  Daemon squatted outside the circle, bringing a finger down to trace over a few of the glyphs.

  “The dragons are not fools. A witch and a young dragoness would never have been sent ahead without protection. They know that you broke Maerenian etiquette and protocol, even if you refuse to acknowledge it. These rules are for the protection of females in Maeren. We have a duty to teach you and ensure the dragons are aware of your punishment, so we maintain the order of things. You cannot be allowed to set a bad example, especially in your place of power,” Daemon said.

  There was a lot to unpack in what Daemon told her, but she got the gist of it. She’d known she wasn’t providing a good role model for Pan, had even feared for both of their lives when things got heated in Raphael’s room.

  Geer hadn’t mentioned the punishment side of things, although he certainly had to know all the draconian rules.

  His convenient absence while her other mates dealt with the unpleasant aspects made him look a lot less heroic now.

  This was definitely a set up. Geer just didn’t want to deal with her displeasure! He had left her here with the princes to let them deal with this before his return.

  “Do you realize how chauvinistic and suppressive that sounds? What would us poor females in Maeren do without such strong, birch happy males to guide and protect us?” she mocked, her eyes glittering with anger that was starting to outweigh her anxiety.

  She directed the look at George.

  “You could have died,” George said, a growl punctuating that succinct fact.

  Daemon dropped forward into the circle, on his hands and knees. He crawled over the couple of feet of distance between them and grabbed onto her shoulders.

  There was no fire in his touch while encircled, but his grip was firm as he stared into her eyes.

  “Explain yourself,” Daemon said.

  She swallowed hard.

  “I already admitted I was wrong to let Pan kidnap me like that—without a proper plan or any discussion first. It wasn’t entirely my fault. I didn’t have much warning of what Pan was going to do, either.”

  “Was invading the dark clan caves Pan’s plan as well?” Daemon asked.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Does this action deserve a response from George? Think, what if it was a soldier under George’s command and George ignored a blatantly insubordinate action that put the soldier and perhaps her teammate—Pan—at risk,” Daemon said.

  “I’m not a soldier,” Elizabeth protested.

  “You understand my point, sweetheart. George is following protocol, as much as you hate ancient Maerenian ways towards females. We are amongst dragons who are evaluating our strengths right now as we bargain for position. Do you wish to undermine our authority in front of these dragons—or to help us rectify your mistake and strengthen our position?” Daemon asked.

  This time she sighed, feeling trapped, but knowing she was partly responsible for getting into this situation.

  Responsibility sucked!

  “Fine, what do I have to do?” she asked Daemon.

  If other Maerenian females could withstand the humiliation of a little punishment, she could do this.

  Daemon kissed her on the forehead.

  “Just trust in us. George is going to take the lead. It will seem more authentic if we don’t tell you everything ahead of time.”

  She nodded, resigned. “Do I get a safe-word at least?” she asked.

  Daemon pulled back, looking surprised at her request.

  “Bunny,” George said.

  She felt her lips twitch in response to that as she wondered if George meant something to do with Playboy.

  Just what had he’d been exposed to when he’d been to the human realm to rescue Victoria?

  “Bunny,” Daemon repeated, crawling back out of the circle and standing up.

  George stood up as well and gave her a hand to her feet. He had grabbed two lengths of leather cord—that she didn’t remember sitting on the ground when she’d entered the bedroom—and pulled her wrists together.

  Her nerves skyrocketed, but it was much too soon to use her safe word to escape.

  He bound her wrists with one cord and weaved the second cord into the first cord’s wrapped bands. He then tied it all off with a knot on one end, leaving the free end hanging loose from her wrists like a short leash.

  No amount of struggles would be able to free her from George’s grip, even without him employing his earth-magic.

  It was a matter of logistics. Her petite frame could never hope to outmuscle his war-trained body. He handled tougher recruits than her on a regular basis.

  They’d wanted this to seem authentic, so perhaps she should put up a bit of a struggle and let out her anxiety about this situation.

  Nobody said she had to stay quiet for it.

  “Stop him, Daemon!” she demanded.

  Daemon gave her a careful look and then smiled as she winked. He watched as George forced her to bend over.

  George tied the loose end of the cord binding her wrists to a metal loop pounded into the cave floor at the centre of the circle.

  That was also new, from when she’d stayed here with Geer.

  She’d been way too distracted by the sight of a steaming hot bath waiting for her when she’d come back from the long trek in the mountains.

  Why hadn’t she’d paid more attention to the changes in Geer’s room?

  “You brought this on yourself,” George said, testing the length between her wrists and the ring in the floor.

  She could only rise halfway, due to the restraint, perfectly positioned at a ninety-degree bend for her bottom to be punished.

  A strapping circle . . . It was kind of obvious what they had planned.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she promised, trying to shuffle closer to the ring.

  Daemon stood up. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

  Spoiled prince.

  Jill would pitch a fit if she saw clothes being thrown carelessly around.

  Of course, this was Elizabeth’s habit as well. Jill picked up the laundry around Elizabeth’s room twice a week to be washed—at least.

  Blatant slobbish behaviour had to be hidden behind a closed door at home.

  Daemon unbuttoned the fly of his pants, but didn’t remove them yet. He only revealed a few naughty inches, below his waist, and a treasure trail t
hat continued far enough to hint he was going commando under his clothes.

  The distraction seemed purposeful, but she fell for it wholeheartedly.

  She licked her lips and fluttered her lashes a couple times at Daemon, feeling fairly powerful for someone tied down.

  There was no doubt that Daemon wanted her. George too, when it came to it. Both princes had made their desire for her body known.

  She wasn’t indifferent to their physical charms, either.

  A witch could indulge herself freely. One of the benefits of their kind’s biological drive to mix sex with feeding was that a fertility potion was necessary for any witch pregnancies.

  If she could get their minds off of punishment, they might be able to come to a more satisfying end to all of the teasing Daemon and George had been doing to her body as they primed her.

  No consequences, just fun.

  “What are you apologizing for exactly, sweetheart?” Daemon asked, getting her back on track to the less sexy plan.

  Nope.

  Daemon returned to the circle and squatted down, so he was face to face with her. His eyes were focused on her lips.

  Knowing he was watching, she rolled her bottom lip under her teeth and nibbled. His harsh exhale was music to her ears.

  The door to the bedroom creaked open behind her. She tried to twist around to see if George had left, but the restraint stopped her.

  Daemon grabbed her chin and turned her back to face him. His mouth was on hers before she could say another word.

  He kissed her deep, his tongue plundering her mouth with no way for her to stop him. Her hands were bound and the fingers on her chin kept her from avoiding his sensual onslaught.

  She wouldn’t have turned him away even if she was free, moaning her consent and pleasure. She sucked his tongue as he lashed his against hers in a show of mastery.

  What she would want her hands free to do was to tease his body as he did her lips.

  Although, there was something to be said for being rendered helpless to submit to his kisses and whatever else he wanted to do to her body.

  George’s hands slipped around her from behind, untucking the towel and pulling it off of her.

  The action bared her completely, and quickly brought back to mind the less pleasant aspects of her position, especially when George gave her bum a playful slap.