Promised To The Shadow King (Captive 0f Shadows Book 1)

by Bailey Dark

  I shake my head, confused. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  He sighs lazily. “Explaining would be tiring, not to mention boring. This is no fun.” Willem starts towards the door, the ends of his wings brushing over the floor. I watch him go, gaping. He pauses, hand on the doorknob. “Ta.”

  “Wait,” I blurt, slamming the door closed before he has a chance to slip through. A look of surprise flashes across his face for an instant. “You came here to tease me? To manipulate me—is that right?”

  “Of course,” Willem says easily. “Without a little nudge, mortals are such boring creatures.”

  “And what was your nudge to be?” I keep my hand on the door to hide the way it trembles. “To trick me with this Will of yours? Why? What could you possibly want?”

  Willem's eyes flash with impatience and he drives me back with a single step. "Kane may feel remorse for being a brute, but I do not little Pet." His hand snakes out and snatches my wrist, squeezing it tightly. I whimper as pain sears up my arm and down to my fingers. "Dark creatures like Kane and I like it when you scream."

  I wrench away from him, heart pounding with fear. Slowly, I slink back towards the bed, to the single dagger I hid beneath my pillow. My leg bumps into the soft cushion, and I ease down onto the mattress, trying to be stealthy. But Willem's eyes are locked on me. I know that if he truly wanted to, he could flay me with a flick of his wrist. My little dagger means nothing. But it's all I have.

  Willem’s lips quirk into a grin. “Now, we’ll have some fun.”

  The sun sets just as his words echo through the room and my heart jumps into my throat. He disappears into the shadows, but I can still feel his dark presence. My mind races as I wrap my fingers around the hilt of the dagger and pull it close to me. There’s a whisper behind me and I pivot, hands shaking.

  “You brought a weapon into Death’s house?” Willem’s voice slips from the shadows all around me. “Naughty girl.”

  I lunge up from the bed, fear driving me towards the door. But then Willem is in front of me, his wings spread the length of the room like a frightening visage. This is the Death that mortals know, that mortals fear. I skid to a halt, but not before his hands are around both my wrists. He squeezes until I drop the dagger.

  “I’ll be taking that,” Willem growls. “What else might you be hiding?”

  “Nothing,” I breathe, tasting fear.

  His pale blue eyes are as cold and cruel as a glacier. “I’ll be watching you, little Pet. And if I suspect again that you mean my King harm, I’ll have your soul.” He tosses me aside and I land painfully on the hard ground. I manage to bite my tongue to keep from whimpering. He plucks the dagger from the floor and tucks it into his belt before looming over me. “The Night knows just how many times Kane has been betrayed by mortal filth like you and your father. If you hurt him, betray him, you’ll be lucky if I’m the one who finds you first.”

  I quiver on the ground, eyes wide and locked on Willem. He scoffs at the hammering of my heart before stalking out of the room. The door slams shut behind him and I don’t hesitate to throw myself against it and lock it. I push a heavy bureau in front of it, knowing deep down how useless my efforts are. This is the second night I’ve felt as if I need to barricade myself in my room for my own safety. I don’t doubt Willem’s words. I know he would hurt me if I ever gave him a reason to. I have to tread carefully.

  My heart is in my throat as I lock my balcony doors and press myself into a dark corner. My thoughts race wildly, and I wonder if Willem knows the true scope of my father’s betrayal—why else would he have said such things? But if they know, how am I still here—alive? I shudder, fear drenching me like I dipped into a pool of it. No, they can’t know. Whatever Willem speaks of, it’s something else entirely. And if they don’t know, then I’m safe enough to continue. I repeat this to myself over and over again until I believe it.

  I stare at the door, half expecting Willem or Kane to come barging through, dark power dripping off of them. But the castle is quiet, and I’m not disturbed again. If I can’t go home—and I won’t go home—I need to ensure my own safety. Which means I need to convince the most powerful person in this realm that I am worth protecting. Which means I need Kane.

  I bite my lip, thinking of the moment in the garden. Though I’m inexperienced with men, I’m not a fool. I know desire when I see it. And Kane wants me. I simply have to show him how much.

  Chapter 8

  Kane

  I drum my fingers along the table, irritation coursing through my veins like a slow fire. I glance at the clock on the wall. She’s almost fifteen minutes late. A growl rumbles in my chest as I bite back my temper. I don’t know why I expected Briar to come to breakfast this morning after what happened yesterday. I was too confident in my hold on her already, and Briar is either too stubborn or frightened. It will take more time. A little more kindness. I curl my lip in disgust.

  Suddenly, the door opens with a soft click and I hear skirts rustling. Briar enters with a whisper of silk, her footsteps nearly silent. I take her in silently, my broiling anger softly overwhelmed by her quiet presence. Her black hair is pulled back in a braid, twisting over her shoulders and breast with elegance. Her soft figure is draped in a simple gray gown, likely one of the ones I had my servants prepare for her. She slips into a chair, finally turning her dark eyes on me. They’re cold and stubborn, but I see a question behind them; uncertainty.

  I try to summon my anger towards her brought on by the pain she caused me last night, but I can no longer find it. My lips pull back into a frown at the absence of the familiar emotion. Servants have already laid out a spread of breads, jams, fruits, and meats. Briar helps herself and I pour her freshly squeezed juice.

  “I was beginning to think I had scared you away,” I murmur. Always kindness, I remind myself even though it has my stomach turning. Kindness until I have her.

  She looks at me sharply, a fear flickering in her eyes. "I thought perhaps you would punish me for striking you."

  I press my lips into a thin line. “Is that what your father did? He punished you when you displeased him?”

  Her lips twitch. My little princess is holding back a secret. “No.”

  “Have I told you yet that you aren’t a good liar, Briar?” I pop a grape into my mouth, relishing the sweet taste. I wonder if her kisses are as sweet. “In either case, I should apologize for my outburst yesterday.”

  “Apologize?” She looks surprised.

  “I was out of line. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” I swallow my pride. “I’m sorry for frightening you.”

  Briar bites her bottom lip and looks at me through her thick lashes. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

  “Don’t be. I deserved it.” The atmosphere in the room changes. Her shoulders, strong and squared with stubbornness and prepared for whatever onslaught of punishment she expected, relax. And I find myself easing back into the velvet chair, the tendrils of darkness slink further away. “We’re holding a masquerade ball soon, to celebrate your Claiming. And my mother will be returning, she will expect a fanfare.”

  “Your mother?” Briar’s attention is instantly on my family, rather than the party I’ve planned—cleverly masqueraded as a celebration of Briar, but in fact, designed for my mother. “When will she arrive?”

  “The night of the ball, perhaps the night before. My mother is unpredictable and willful,” I say, stretching.

  Briar’s eyes rove over my chest and biceps, sparking an ember of desire in me. It’s easy to forget that Briar sends my blood roaring. I feel a surge of predatory energy, the shadows calling me to hunt her until my teeth close around her neck and my tongue laps at her porcelain skin. I’m pulled from the reverie by her full lips parting and a sigh escaping.

  “Excuse me,” I say gruffly, standing. “I have business to attend to. I trust you’ll be fine for the day.”

  “Actually.” Briar rises hesitantly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I w
as hoping I could perhaps observe.”

  “Why?” I cock a brow, a slip of suspicion in my tone.

  She licks her lips. “If I’m to be your wife, and your Queen, I think it would be wise for me to understand your role here. Your passion. The way you rule.”

  Her interest seems genuine and deep in my black heart I know I’m pleased. But I know mortals always hide their true motivations under pleasant disguises such as this one. I study her, searching for that flash of dishonesty. I can’t find it in her grey eyes. “Alright,” I quip, snatching my structured black coat from the back of the chair. “Follow.”

  I stride out the door, not bothering to wait for her. I hear her footsteps tapping hurriedly behind me and I grin wickedly out of sight. As I expected, she’s rushing to keep up with my long strides—a little princess on a leash. I shrug on my jacket, leaving my tunic unbuttoned to expose a swath of my chest. We turn down a narrow hall, leading down and down into the bowels of the castle. The air changes here, sparkling with dark shadows and as cold as ice. The gothic opulence of the upper levels is lost here, giving way to grey stone and black metal torches to light the drab halls and rooms.

  “Where are we going?” Briar asks, her voice rattling as she shivers.

  I flick my wrist and a fur-lined cloak appears in my hand. I pause for a moment and Briar runs into my back, bouncing off of it with a small yelp. She freezes, her entire body stiff and I catch a whiff of her fear. Ignoring the rise of disappointment I can’t explain, I drape the cloak over her shoulders, securing it around her. She stares up at me, lips parted in surprise. I pat the soft fur absentmindedly and turn back to continue our path.

  “To my interrogation room. I find people are more willing to speak with me down here,” I say with a wicked grin.

  “Interrogation?” She echoes me softly.

  “You think such a thing is best left to the city guard and not the King?” I nod understandingly. “I would agree, except in this case.”

  “What is it about this case?” Briar asks, following me into the large interrogation room. Shadows drape along the corners, dark and indiscernible. I feel them call towards me, beckoning me, but when Briar steps to my side, they recede. I frown.

  Before I can speak, the door clicks open and Willem leads a golden-skinned man into the room. Briar lurks behind me, her eyes on the floor until Willem leaves, closing the door behind him. I purse my lips at the man, his white hair almost glowing. He smirks arrogantly, sauntering to the small table in the center of the room. He throws himself down in the chair without bothering with any obeisance.

  “So, you must be the infamous Kane,” the Nephilim says with ease. His red eyes rove over Briar hungrily. “Her soul makes me ravenous.”

  Briar’s fear, already like a hum in the background, surges until it’s an assault on my senses. I sit, and she follows suit, keeping her face a mask. “Tempest, I trust you have an inkling as to why you’ve been called here.”

  “Called is an interesting way to describe mandatory attendance,” Tempest says.

  I wave a hand lazily. “Semantics.”

  “So, why is it that the illustrious Kane, Death himself, needs to speak to a lowly Nephilim?” Tempest asks, his red eyes flashing.

  His anger, though understandable, is unnecessary. Nephilim in my realm are strictly overseen simply because of their raw power. They are the single threat to my people, besides myself if I’m not careful. I cross my arms over my chest, urging the shadows to curl around Tempest. Nephilim are drawn to the light, my shadows sicken them. Tempest shifts uncomfortably, fighting against my will to break him down. But my darkness wins.

  “There have been three deaths in the city; victims of soul-leeching.” I watch him carefully for any glimmer of recognition. His eyes go hard. “Would you know anything about that?”

  “No,” he says forcefully.

  “So, it’s true then,” Briar breathes, her eyes wide and filled with fear—locked on Tempest.

  His red eyes turn on her and he grins. “Curious little thing, isn’t she?”

  A growl rips from my throat and I ease in front of Briar, hiding her from view. I feel her petite hand against my bicep as she tries to get a better view. “Turn your eyes away.”

  “Why bother? Let her see what she’s so curious about,” Tempest says, leaning forward.

  “She’s a fool,” I snap. “We’re done here.”

  The door swings open at my words and Willem strides in. He waits in the doorway as Tempest rises, tossing one last infuriating smirk at Briar before following Willem out of the room. He pauses and I feel the shadows rise in response to his direct gaze. “I wonder how curious people would be to know a mortal is in this realm?”

  The door slams shut behind him and I whirl on Briar. She gasps as I loom over her, baring my teeth. “Do you have any regard for your safety at all?”

  “What do you mean?” She asks, a bite to her tone despite the fear I taste.

  “You are a fool,” I hiss. “The soul of a living mortal is ten times more powerful than the soul of one of my people. Imagine how tempting you are to one of them. You, alive and with a soul, would become nothing but a shell if you fell victim to a Nephilim. You would be theirs to command, an empty husk. You would be nothing. Never speak in the presence of a Nephilim. Never be alone with one.”

  “I didn’t know,” she whispers.

  I watch the vein pulsing in her throat, surprised by how much my anger gave way to fear for her. I inhale, taking a long, deep breath. “This is not the Lands of Light. It is not the mortal realm. This is the Underworld. It is filled with dangerous creatures, even Willem and I are not safe for you.”

  “I know this.” There’s a flash of darkness in her eyes and I know she’s thinking of last night.

  I clear my throat. “Be cautious,” I murmur.

  Her tongue flicks out over her lips and I watch the quick movement, enraptured. “I will.”

  My hand snakes out and wraps around her throat. I squeeze just tight enough to make her body stiffen and her pulse race. “Look,” I murmur. “You can’t even defend yourself from me.”

  “Do I need to?” Her voice is breathy, laced with heat.

  My lips hover over hers, desire flooding through me. The shadows push back, curling into the corners and the room blooms with light. Briar's chest rises as she takes a sharp breath; an anticipatory breath. I wonder again just how sweet her lips will be. Time is frozen in a way I've never felt. My blood thrums, urging me closer to her. My lips are a touch from hers and I feel her hot breath waft over my face, intoxicating like a blend of poppies. Suddenly, I hear a scuff against the floor outside and I know Willem has returned with yet another Nephilim.

  I pull away quickly and sit. Briar is breathing shallowly beside me, her cheeks flushed. The door swings open and Willem’s sharp blue eyes settle coldly on Briar. I adjust my chair until I’m sitting slightly ahead of her, hiding her body from view as the Nephilim saunters in. She tosses her long, white hair over her shoulder and her red eyes flick over Briar with disinterest. I rope my shadows together and coil them around Briar unnoticeably, just enough to hide her mortality to the Nephilim.

  Her heart is racing, though I’m not sure it’s from fear. Kindness, manipulation, I tell myself. But how far will I go until it becomes real?

  Chapter 9

  Briar

  I sit quietly, half hidden behind Kane for four more interviews. I have read of Nephilim while I was studying the Underworld, preparing myself for my new life here. But the tomes I read only had theories of such creatures—the historians weren’t even certain they truly existed. But now I’ve seen five Nephilim. They each have pure white hair and blood-red eyes. They’re beautiful like a poisonous snake is beautiful and they fill me with the same fear.

  “I’m not fool enough to create another Nephilim without the proper sanctions,” the Nephilim across from Kane drawls. “Do you think I want to risk your justice?”

  Kane sends a shadow prowling around t
he creature and he flinches. Kane’s wicked smile broadens. “No, you’re too frightened for that. And certainly not mad enough. You may go.”

  The Nephilim rises, its red eyes flitting towards me and then back to the door. He’s gone quickly and I wonder if he could sense my mortality. Kane sighs, sinking down in his chair. He looks towards the ceiling, his ropy neck stretched taut. I shift in the uncomfortable wooden chair, curiosity building. It seems that’s the last Nephilim for the day as Willem hasn’t made a reappearance. Kane sighs, his body relaxing.

  “Why are you interviewing Nephilim?” I ask, breaking the silence. Kane seems more patient today, perhaps even a little kinder—so I risk the question.

  His black eyes flick towards me and he runs a hand through his hair. “There have been deaths in the city recently, and I suspect a Nephilim.”

  “How does one die in the Underworld?” My brows knit together.

  "There are two deaths." Kane sits up, turning to face me. He holds two fingers up. "One is the death of your mortal body. This is a death that everyone but the Gods and Reapers experience. The second death is the death of a soul. It can only be done through soul-leeching, I assume you've heard of this?"

  “I read the works of people who theorized about it, but it was never confirmed,” I say.

  “Well, it’s as I said before. With a live mortal, it leaves the body a husk as the soul dies. But here, with the dead, all they have are their souls. Without them, they disappear completely. They are truly dead,” Kane sighs, shoulders sagging.

  My lips part in surprise at the weight of his words, at the heavy tenor of his voice. He feels responsible for his people in this realm, I realize with surprise. “What happens after the second death? Is there another realm for them?”