Hope was a terrible thing, pushing its way into her heart and soul, letting her dream and hunger for things she had almost given up. Without thinking the goals she had for her realm of ruling with love and peace, and kindness floated through her thoughts. If only...
Cold violence settled on his face like a second skin, the beauty of it eerily mesmerizing.
“I will make you Queen of all you survey, and those who defied you will bow before your throne.”
Her mouth dried. I see upon your head a crown of snakes and thorns. Queen of darkness you shall become. Lachlan Ravenswood was the harbinger of her sister’s vision. Shilah’s entire soul trembled, and she knew at that moment, she should never succumb to anything he could offer.
“I must warn you, the emperor will not take kindly to losing my sister and me.” She swallowed. “And I…I must return home to my people.”
He stiffened, the movement nearly imperceptible. And his eyes—those beautifully wild eyes stayed on her face for far too long. Shilah released the shakiest of breaths when he slowly swiveled around to the lock of the cage. It was insanity to rely on his promises when his eyes glowed with such possession and invitation to sin, but she needed to find a way out of the mess she had landed herself and her sister in.
The one great torch in her cage barely dispelled the dark, but he behaved as if the darkness wasn’t a deterrent. Of course, Darkans lived in a kingdom which had no sunlight and where their citizens, controlled elements of shadows and darkness. They had enhanced eyesight, hearing and speed unparalleled to those of other Amagarians.
Her eyes tracked him as he silently padded around the cage, muscles rippling across the breadth of his shoulders. Shilah flinched away from the stirring that quickened inside her. What is wrong with me?
Each time he had kissed her it had felt like he stole a part of her, but that was no reason to be ogling the dratted man. But he was really a fine specimen. His tattered shirt no longer remained on his body, he was only clothed in his trousers and bare feet. His muscles were mouth-watering, and despite the fear he generated, Shilah had to admit that he was stunning. The midnight black hair against the paleness of his skin. A paleness that was now covered with a tattoo that she found hard pressed to look at. It seemed alive, and at times it twisted with sinuous strength over his body.
“The enemy below us cannot be underestimated.”
His voice rasped with an undertone of gravelly menace. As if something else spoke with him. His beast? She cleared her throat to unclog the emotions that tightened it. “What do you require of me?”
Shilah swore that the coldness did not come from the caves but from him. His aura contracted, and the subtle red bled to blackness. She flared her telepathy against his mind as gently as possible, and her teeth chattered violently from the cold.
“Do you know of the guards of the Princess of Boreas being held in this dungeon?”
She gritted her teeth as not to flinch from the distortion of his voice. It was terribly unsettling. “I’ve not heard any rumors, but if they are in the empire, this is where the Emperor would keep them.”
“Prepare yourself.” The sound of his voice, dark, chilled, rasped over her senses.
“For what may I inquire?”
Shilah flinched as with a stunning show of strength he gripped the bars of the cage, bending and breaking them apart. She stood rooted in shock as valnetium iron gave way under his hands. Chakra roiled around him eclipsing the soft glow of the aura that she could see. Blackness churned, and the faintest of hisses filled the air, echoing down into the dungeon. The sound did not come from him, it echoed around. She stepped back as his skin bulged and twisted, as images moved sinuously on his body. The slithery sound that echoed rose, the hissing grating with menace.
Shilah stepped back as the coldness that came from him reached out and caressed her. It was his chakra, and its touch was repulsive to her. She shivered as she stared at him with false calm. She knew he sensed her dread; she could not bury it deep enough from his darkness.
The sounds of slithering grew louder, more ominous and Shilah recoiled as she saw that the very bars of the cage were filled with a writhing mass of snakes. She closed her eyes tightly, inhaled deeply and opened once more. They were still there—a curling mass of slithery evil. The aura that roiled around them a deep vermillion tinged with hues of red, yellow, and blue.
Shilah tentatively walked forward to assess them. They were only reptiles—nothing more abnormal to them. Where did they come from? The hissing echoed around her, and it came from the thousands of snakes that seemed to be coming from the rocks attracted to their cage for some reason. She hesitated to venture to the entrance of the enclosure with the torch. The patterns that she felt in their minds made her hesitate. Touching the mind of non-sentients was usually easy, but this seemed different. She tried to ascertain their intent as she spied several reptiles with fangs dripping with venom amongst them.
Shilah paused in confusion, there was no doubt. The intention gleaned from them was to protect her. The bars that Lachlan had ripped apart were now filled with snakes of all sizes and shapes, some dripping venom, some coiled as if to attack at any moment and some observing her lazily. Her stomach clenched in hard knots as she stared at their eyes. She swore to the gods that she was looking at Lachlan’s eyes.
He had drawn them to the cage. Shilah stoically ignored the sibilant hiss that echoed so eerily in the depth of the cave.
“Do not close your mind to me. I must know at all times if you are in danger.”
“Yes.”
Then he just disappeared with the shadows.
* * *
Lachlan tasted Shilah’s fear, even though she tried to bury it deep. It was repugnant to him. She hadn’t felt fear as he kissed her. Only lust and perhaps a bit of uncertainty. A part of her believed she could walk away from his claim, but he would not allow it.
How curious it was that her pull on his mind was so strong. For so long he had accepted the necessity of his solitariness and had liked his bleak existence. Now in a matter of minutes, he disbelieved how he had existed without her for so long. He felt some regret that she was not a Darkan. He did not understand softness or mercy, and he already sensed she had too much compassion. When he had pressed her into the cage wall, next to his strength, she felt fragile, delicate, like a precious glass that could be easily broken. The taste of her lingered until he thought he might go insane with craving. Darkan males were sexually aggressive, and everything in him hungered to drive her to her knees, mount her, claim her. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her that she would never get him out. That was a dangerous need for he did not wish to break her.
That primitive possessiveness stirred once more and with a ruthless will he pushed all thoughts of his mate from his mind. The mission had to be completed, and only then could he allow himself to be distracted by her allure.
Her safety was now paramount, and he had to take her away from the dangers of the dungeons. He hung suspended from the bars of the cage. Trusting the serpents to protect her and call to him should his mate be threatened, he released the irons. Lachlan plummeted into a bottomless hole. It felt like he fell for an eternity, and the closer to got to the bottom the crueler he felt, the bloodletter in him stirring.