The Amagarians Boxset: Book 1-3

by Reid, Stacy

  The only thing that could prevent their marriage now was to try once again and lose her purity. It would be impossible to find a willing lover in the amount of time it would take for her to return to Boreas to honor the bargain. It had been a daunting task when she had weeks to plot. Now, it would probably be easier to try and flee the Darkage instead of finding someone that would willingly bed her.

  No one would touch her for fear of reprisal from the Nurians.

  Her mind turned to Drac, and she froze. He would not fear to touch me. The thought slid insidiously in her mind, lodged itself and flowered. Could she attempt to entice a man of which she had no knowledge? A man she had never conversed with, a man with whom she shared no common interest? He frightened her on a deep visceral level, but the heat in his eyes could not be mistaken, nor the desire that had jerked low in her womb.

  She trailed her fingers from her neck to stop above her heart. She did not know why it pounded so when she thought of Drac. It could be fear, but a part of her whispered that it was sheer fascination.

  Could I take a Darkan as my lover? He would be a perfect choice, for there would be no danger of her losing her heart. She had sworn always to be a queen who would rule without the messy emotion of love interfering with her duty to her people. Her grandmother, Lady Ava, was still tormented daily by a choice she made years ago. She'd had the opportunity to save her people, and she’d chosen her consort.

  But what did Saieke knew about seduction? Her previous attempts had been sorely lacking. Groaning in exasperation, she flashed onto the bed and thumped her headrest. She really did not know if she could do it—deliberately take a Darkan for a lover, using him for her purposes. Using him, that was the part she had struggled with so much in her court. What in kings’ teeth was she thinking?

  She had to decide on a course of action, or she would return to Boreas on the morn. She went to sleep with the resolve that she would find a way to save her people, at all cost.

  * * *

  Drac stood cloaked in shadows on a high turret overlooking the south wing. His beast prowled in the cage of his mind. The princess appealed to him. He could smell her unique and elusive scent from the west tower. Astoundingly beautiful and poised, she had handled herself like a queen in the presence of his king as they drew up the honor bargain.

  Drac had felt her distrust, her uncertainty, yet her expression had not betrayed her. If his kind did not feed their beasts with negative emotions, he would have thought her serene and at peace with the bargain. Most would have been paralyzed with fear. Her poise was indeed something to be admired. Or she could be simple-minded and not aware of the precarious position her flight placed her in. He recalled the surge of fear and uncertainty that occasionally flared within her. No, she was aware…just a princess trained.

  He felt uneasy since meeting her, and that feeling was anathema to him. Drac scowled. He had never encountered a woman whose scent made his beast uncoil and inhale, which it did several times. Her scent had hit his gut like a rush of negative energy. Something elusive had also lingered beneath her fragrance, something delectable that confounded and aroused him. He snarled, snapping his teeth together, shifting as his trousers tightened against his erection.

  Dangerous. What intrigued Drac, even more, was that he wanted to know about her. Why did she flee her kingdom? Was it to break her kingdom’s pledge to the Nurian king? The princess courted death if she was indeed breaking a blood oath.

  Gidon wanted her protected at all times. The king himself had handpicked warriors for her protection. The Princess’s presence would arouse curiosity, fascination, suspicion, and rage. Many remembered Queen Sora would still be reigning today if not for Boreas’ bigotry and revulsion. Gidon had selected Lachlan, another enforcer, and their negotiator and peacekeeper, to travel to Boreas. Gidon felt it prudent not to provide any more Darkans on the princess’s return to her kingdom.

  Drac understood Gidon’s caution and respected it. A team of even four of their kind would likely incite war.

  Drac would remain at the castle for the night, and then he would depart with the dawn to complete his mission of finding King Rajliegh’s assassin, thankfully away from the temptation of the princess.

  Take her….

  Want and need hummed beneath his skin. His beast rumbled in satisfaction, and Drac frowned. It had never been satisfied before with anything other than negative emotions, the darker, the better. How could he remain in her presence and not touch her? He had already imagined her several times, with her hair fisted in his hand, her lips under his, her hips position over his cock, and she crying out in agonized bliss as he sank his aching length inside of her. He wanted to taste her, to inhale her scent and trap her fragrance inside of him while he rode her for hours. His reaction to her was unwelcomed, and he’d believed himself to hold more control over his lust. The inherent danger in wanting a woman like her, a fragile woman did not escape him. His brother Vlad had succumbed to such a lure in the past, and the pain of his decision still haunted Drac years later.

  Taunting laughter echoed within him from his beast, and Drac growled low in his throat.

  If he was not vigilant, his unexpected desire for her could ruin everything he and his king had tirelessly worked for…and maybe even the loss of his honor and soul.

  5

  The southern wing of castle Kerberos.

  Saieke woke with a heated pulse of need deep in her body. She had dreamt of the Darkan…of his lips kissing the curves of her body, down to her most intimate valley, and now she was wet and aching. Gritting her teeth, she flashed from the bed, thankful the fireplace and great torches still burned in the chamber. She performed her morning toiletries with grim efficiency, dressing in a caftan of deep-gold, designed with folds for sheathed blades. With her hair plaited and coiled around her head, she slipped her feet into soft and sleek shoes designed for comfort and flight. Very practical and nothing like the elegant jewel stubbed shoes she wore at her court. The ladies in waiting assigned to her presented her with a pair of daggers crafted with beauty and cutting strength. Each blade, twelve inches long, curved wickedly with a single ruby embedded in their hilts—they were stunning.

  “A gift from King Gidon.” Her lady in waiting lifted the blades to Saieke on silver cushions with a deep curtsy.

  She measured their weight with infinite care. They were exquisite; a gift fit for a princess. The generosity of the king surprised her. Guilt pierced her as she had not expected his kindness. It was the custom of every kingdom to present visiting royalty with gifts, yet she kept waiting for the Darkage to behave without decorum. "I will thank the king most appropriately. They are well crafted and beautiful.”

  Warmth glowed from the servant. “Our king commands your presence in the fifth courtyard. You will break your fast there.”

  He commanded her presence? “It would be my pleasure to break my fast with the king.” Would Drac be present?

  Armed with her gifts, she followed three warriors down corridors of immense length broken at intervals by winding stairs that ended at the main hall. Her assigned guards opened the door that led to the courtyard, and Saieke stepped into an abyss. Unrelenting darkness washed over her senses. Her mind struggled to process the void that seemed to press in, suffocating her. She expended her chakra, coating herself in its blue glow. It was just enough for her to see a few feet. The warriors prowled ahead, and she followed for a few minutes but jerked to a startled halt as they disappeared.

  Her pulse spiked. She flared out her energy seeking chakras and found none. Saieke spun in a circle, probing the dark. Her chakra glow allowed her to see only so far; the terrifying darkness pressed in from all sides, and her disorientation increased. The implication of the warriors’ actions seeped in her veins. Dread tightened her throat. They had deliberately led her outside. Was the king even waiting in the courtyard?

  She went still, her neck prickling in keen awareness. Something stalked her. She could feel it shifting closer. The energy t
rail was so faint that it was almost indiscernible. Saieke balanced herself on her feet and crept forward, then stopped as the feel of the chakra moved and appeared behind her. Her heart rate increased as it dawned that her stalker intended to harm, not merely to frighten her.

  “Is someone there?” Her voice sounded too hoarse to her ears, roughened by fear.

  Please let this be a dream. Saieke waited for a few beats, no one answered her, but a pulse of emotion from the person’s chakra slid against her senses—undiluted anger and bitterness. Saieke harnessed a rush of wind to form a barrier as the feelings shifted to deadly intent. The wind churned in violent swirls, so lethal anyone who attacked her would be sliced by the sharpness.

  A low, vicious growl echoed around her, and the Darkan dropped the shield that kept its chakra contained. Vile, twisted rage tunneled toward her. Enveloped in her chakra light, she saw the Darkan punch through her barrier. Her wind sliced his hands, but he still delivered a devastating blow to her sternum.

  The force of the blow flung her more than three hundred feet. She gathered wind and tried to cushion her fall, but the impact of the landing still rattled her teeth.

  Before she could recover, a hand grasped her throat and lifted her off the ground.

  “You dare present yourself in our kingdom after how Boreas treated our queen?” |The voice snarled. “You dare when it was your kingdom’s action that caused our queen’s death?”

  Saieke saw his face, and the fury it reflected was more than she could process.

  His fingers tightened as razor-sharp canines extended from his mouth. Saieke flared out her power, searching for her elements and felt water close. Relief surged through her. Drawing the water to her in a rush, she enveloped them both, shaping the water with her mind, and held it suspended above and around them. Saieke combined her elements to encase the hand at her throat in ice so cold it shattered.

  She dropped, wheezing for air. Sensing another attack, she flashed to her feet and tried to freeze her attacker's entire body, but the darkness swallowed him too fast for her to track. There was no respite as another blow slammed into her back. Pain lanced through her shoulders. She tried to draw her weapons and realized her left arm dangled uselessly at her side.

  She screamed as a swipe at her stomach opened deep furrows inside, spilling warmblood at her feet. Horror tightened Saieke's throat. They toyed with her, savoring her fear and feeding on her pain. She molded the water to her body and let it rise in the air with her swiftly, like a wave, but cradling her pain-filled body.

  In mid-flight, a hand grabbed her ankle and flung her with enraged strength, causing Saieke to moan helplessly at the speed she flew through the air. She slammed into a tree with such force her dislocated shoulder wrenched, breaking bones in several places. A cry of anguish escaped her lips. It twisted through her body as a foot stomped on her leg, shattering bones and her hope of escape. Fear like she had never known engulfed her as three Darkans looked down at her with icy contempt in their expressions.

  * * *

  Drac sprawled indolently in the war room. Lachlan and Talon, the king’s enforcers, had been in the chamber for more than an hour discussing the possibilities of treaties with Boreas with their king. Drac curled his lips in disdain as restlessness stirred deep inside him. He needed to be away from the castle. He’d spent the night thinking about the flame-haired, intensely blue-eyed princess. He ruthlessly forced her from his mind and drifted back to the discussions in the king’s chamber.

  “Court whispers refer to the Princess of Boreas as a treasure the nation would die to protect,” Lachlan said from where he leaned against the stained windows looking out in the west courtyard, his demeanor, and expression showing nothing but serenity as was his way. He turned gracefully, and tawny golden eyes surveyed them. “We could use that to our advantage.”

  “How?” Talon asked as he pushed his hands through his mane of untamed russet colored hair in frustration. “We will be in possession of six jars of elixir shortly. It was an honest and straightforward bargain…no room for manipulations.”

  Lachlan raised his brow. “We did save their progeny from death or worse. Boreas will be extremely grateful. We should examine how to manipulate their gratefulness.”

  Gidon paced for several minutes before addressing Lachlan, “What gifts have you gathered that are suitable for the Borean king and queen?”

  “There are a few that we can give. We are short on jewels.”

  “We could gift them the use of one hundred warriors for a few years,” Talon said.

  “No,” Gidon said. “What we need is for Boreas to be in our debt, where if we ever need more elixir, their waters, healers, or their ample grains, they would respond favorably to a petition. I want to achieve this without fear.”

  “Mayhap fear is necessary,” Drac murmured. “We do not have enough wealth or positions of rank which can be traced from millennia for a possible alliance. The ranks our elders hold are not such that any other kingdom would recognize. They hold them for their skill and might, not from noble blood and wealth.”

  His cadre lifted their heads in unison, tasting the decadent tendrils of fear wafting through the chamber. They inhaled, feeding their beasts. Drac got up and poured wine into his chalice, drinking deeply. Pain sweet as nectar barreled into the room. He froze in the act of drinking. What was it?

  The predator in him stirred at the unique scent accompanying the pain. A darker wave of fear rushed out to them in torrents, and satisfaction stamped the faces of his fellow enforcers. Drac’s beast recoiled from the overwhelming taste of distress as it identified the unique scent of wild wind that accompanied it. He stumbled and dropped his chalice of wine, fighting the rage twisting in his veins—it was too dark and pervasive.

  Gidon looked at him sharply. “Drac, what is wrong?” his king demanded, as Talon said, “Who resides at the castle that would feel such fear?”

  Drac’s beast howled and battered at his mind.

  Talon and Lachlan launched to their feet as a pulse of rage clawed at Drac, and for the first time in years, he lost control of his chakra and it escaped without his iron will directing it. Charka settled on him like a second skin, fangs exploded from his mouth, and a menacing snarl built in his chest.

  “What in king’s fuck!” Talon said.

  Before they could say any more, Drac disappeared.

  6

  Drawn by her misery, Drac appeared by the side of the princess within seconds. He fought for restraint as he took in her bloodied, shattered limbs and pale face. Kill, let us devour. The hiss of his beast raked at him, the bitter taste of the princess’s terror fueling the need to kill.

  Gidon, Talon, and Lachlan had followed him immediately, and the three Darkans who had attacked her were now kneeling before their king.

  Kill!

  Drac bellowed, slapping a palm to his forehead as splinters of pain stabbed inside his mind. Rage moved beyond his grasp and madness started to haze his vision.

  “Drac!” Lachlan bent the shadows to subdue him.

  Drac saw Lachlan through distorted vision and met Lachlan’s attack with a viciousness he had never turned on a friend. He distantly noticed the surprise that flared in Lachlan’s eyes, and then the implacable resolve that filled them.

  Blades appeared in his hands, and a growl rumbled from Drac’s throat. He glided around Lachlan with a speed he could not track. Drac grasped Lachlan by the throat, tightening his claws to rip his neck from his body. Pain sliced through Drac’s head as his beast slammed against his barriers, and the psychic leash shifted. Evil pulsed into Drac’s consciousness and bled out into his chakra.

  Gidon’s roar of rage echoed in Drac’s mind, and he absorbed the treachery that seeped from his king. He flung Lachlan aside and met his King’s blow with unremitting strength. A foot slammed into Drac’s chest pushing him away. Twin blades appeared in Gidon’s hand, and before he could attack, Drac appeared before the three men who were attempting to shiktre.

>   “No!” Talon shouted.

  They attacked, and Drac punched through the chest of the closest man with both hands, tearing out his chest cavity. Crimson blood and body parts spewed in an arch.

  “Remove the other warriors from his reach, Talon. Take them to the dungeon,” Gidon ordered.

  Red eyes that glowed with bloodlust tracked Talon’s movements as he melted away with the remaining Darkans. Drac gritted his teeth as inky darkness entwined in his mind, their needs melding as one.

  Slaughter all that brought her harm.

  Drac licked the blood that splattered his face, and he accorded with his beast. They must die. He made to pursue Talon, and a garbled whimper of stark fear came from the princess. It captured Drac's attention as nothing else could, and he shiktred before her. An unbidden desire erupted to devour her essence. The temptation, one he'd never before experienced seduced man and demon. He hauled the princess to her feet and plunged his fangs deep into her neck.

  He heard Gidon’s roar, felt the tremble of the earth and darkness lick at Drac’s skin as evil manifested in the form of Gidon’s Cerja—his tattooed demon, contracted, and a Cerberus launched itself off Gidon’s skin with chakra swirling around it with menace.

  A rough chuckle filled with malevolence rumbled from Drac as he absorbed the pitilessness that came from Gidon’s three-headed monster. It stood ten feet tall on four legs, fangs bared, eyes the color of pewter, reeking of ferocity and cunning. The three heads snapped, and muscles bunched as he growled and crouched with grace and intent, analyzing the situation.

  Kill.

  “Gidon, wait!” Lachlan shouted hoarsely. “If your beast attacks he may rip her throat.”