The Amagarians Boxset: Book 1-3

by Reid, Stacy

  She met his eyes, and Shilah flinched from the feral lust and cold cruelty.

  “Do not fear me.”

  She wondered if she had unwittingly trapped herself in an illusion. This was the second time he was issuing such an absurd command as if she would just obey it. “I…I need...” she pushed trembling fingers through her hair, desperate for some time to think.

  “Whatever you need I shall provide.”

  Shilah stared at him. Every touch of his mind to hers making the connection stronger, more impossible to deny or even resist. “How do you always find a way through my shields?”

  “I can feel you, in me, a part of me.”

  “You can?”

  “The scent of your arousal, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice feels as if it is imprinting on every cell within my body. I can see a clear bright thread of light in my mind, and it is the only light in my dark abyss, and it leads to you.”

  She hated that something in her heart and soul recognized his words. Shilah closed her eyes. She could hardly reconcile with the tender somewhat poetic proclamations of this fearsome creature before her. A beast which so far had killed everything in its path but was now ravishing and touching her passionately, claiming her as his. I’m merely hungry and exhausted. “I am not sure what is happening,” she said aloud, refusing to speak along their unique pathway.

  “You are my mate.”

  And what did that mean? She hadn’t read the Lexicon the emperor had provided, and the rumors in the empire on Darkans only spoke of their might and unchecked brutality. No one spoke of mates. Did he simply want to mate with her as in bed her? Or was it more? “What do you mean whatever I need you shall provide? Anything?”

  “Yes.” Immediate and implacable.

  “So, you will not kill me?”

  “I cannot harm you.”

  Relief crashed into her. She did not remind him of his earlier resolve to end her life. His promise wrapped around her, soothing the fear in a manner she had never imagined. “You truly cannot harm me?”

  “All the enemy needs to break me is to hurt you.”

  Her lips parted, and she stared helplessly at him. Nothing inside her could imagine the fearsome man before her broken or humbled in any way. But if she was hurt…suddenly, the weight of her importance to him settled on her shoulder. She opened her psychic mind to his, gasping when she saw that silver thread with white diamond lights with a tinge of black surrounding it. It led from her to him. She reached out her fingers touching the air, tracing the connection only those with immense psychic powers could even discern. And somehow, she understood that this thread that led from her to him was the only reason he wasn’t a ravaging beast. And what if this thread were to snap? What if her light should be snuffed away?

  “My retribution would burn Amagarie.”

  Her soul trembled at the brutal, and unshakable promise. “You’ve just met me!”

  “It does not signify.”

  “I cannot mean so much to you in so little time.”

  The darkness was deeply entrenched in him somehow, she was his only redemption. She didn’t want that responsibility, the fate of her realm already rested on her shoulders. His soul was too much. Yet a part of her wanted to hold onto the promise of being the most important thing in his universe. Hadn’t she always dreamt of a grand love? A sweeping, thrilling romance that would live through the ages that would inspire the poets to write ballads to be sung throughout the galaxies?

  His insanity was apparently contagious. This is not the beginning of that, she harshly reminded herself, choosing to blot from her memories the way he had made her burn with a simple kiss. He was a demon of darkness, and there was nothing pure in the mind that she touched. Inexplicably she believed the man before her would give her anything she desired and would move the earth beneath their feet to see it done. Surely her imagination must be overwrought.

  “I will give you anything.”

  Disbelief hammered at her. Could he read her innermost thoughts? Or did her aura betray her deep yearning for the things she has yet to gain? She stared at him in deep puzzlement while her brain worked quickly and logically. “I want to be free from this cage and away from the Empire with my sister Kala who is also a captive.”

  “It shall be done.”

  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 your 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. Charka 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 so
und 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.

  Fear lies below…

  He became distantly aware that he spoke to himself or the darker need that rasped against every crevice of his being. He breathed a sigh of pleasure, one borne of darkness that licked at his insides. Something shifted inside the moment he launched himself from the cage, away from the princess. The rage that had pulsed slowly inside of him conflagrated into something more—something hotter, darker, more destructive. The tentative leash that he’d held the madness under dissipated as if it never were. Her scent and taste had been the anchor.

  The thought slid into him and the darkness that hovered slunk through him with seductive intent. If it had powered through and tried to steal his will, his anchor to sanity, he might have resisted. The sweet lure to destruction was more than Lachlan could resist as it seemed to come from the depths of him. He embraced the shadows within himself, allowed, for the first time, the darkness to take him. It settled over and into him, fitting like a second skin. Without her mind brushing his, he had no heart or soul.

  He landed, one of his knees slamming into the earth with such force, the ground below him cracked in several places. Strength rippled in his body, his skin twisted, and power, unlike anything Lachlan had ever felt raced through him as he fed voraciously from those imprisoned. Their agony and pain were the sweetest nectar. He lingered in the shadow space, moving with exceptional speed as he explored the twisting maze of underground caves. The emperor would return to check how the princess feared, and soon. She was too valuable to leave with a beast they had thought capable of killing her. Or perhaps the emperor was merely confident of her capabilities. Either way, they would return soon, and he wanted his mate away from the slaughter he would wreak. He faltered, canting his head to the side. He could not kill the emperor. War would visit the Darkage, and his king was currently opposed to such a beautiful and pleasurable concept.

  A chuckle rumbled from his chest at the very idea of the blood and slaughter he could partake in. He would have to try and convince Gidon treaties and laws were not the way to deal with those who thought to take his throne. Or perhaps Lachlan would simply incite a war by taking the ruler of the empire into the darkness and killing him. The honor bred into his heart and bones savagely protested any action that would jeopardize his king and realm. The ravaging monster in him paused, assessed the known might of Gidon Al Shar, and accepted that he respected his king’s darkness.

  His purpose was absolute—protect his mate and his king.

  Lachlan moved past dozens of guards that felt no ripple in the cavernous underground mazes. Within minutes he found the Queen’s guards of Princess Saieke. They were buried deep inside the dungeon in one of the many cells. Three of the walls of their prison was the cave itself, and only the front was made with valnetium iron and several other metals. In the stretch of the maze that he stood more than one hundred cells ran in a straight line. The Queen’s guards were in cell number thirteen.

  Two men sat on pallets, and they were a pitiful reflection of the images Drac’s mate had drawn for Lachlan. Yet there was no doubt it was them. He observed their captors who stood with militant readiness close by. Twenty Mevians for two Borean Queen’s blades—starved, beaten, and bloody men.

  Lachlan stepped from the shadows. “Kamu and Thyon of Boreas.”

  They scrambled to their feet and gripped the open bars of their cage, yet neither man spoke. They stared at him fearfully, and it occurred to him their rescue might not go as seamlessly as Princess Saieke anticipated. There was no doubt what he was, and his kind was reviled by all.

  The sounds of several swords unsheathing behind him pulled a smile to his lips. Dark anticipation roiled through his gut. The concept of mercy which he had held onto for four centuries was now abhorrent, foolish, and weak. With his chakra and his beast’s merging as one, he now saw more clearly, and the murky looking glass no longer stood before his morality and conscience. For so long he had dreaded the hideous stain of his demon across his soul. He’d believed in damnation and redemption and yearned for the secrets of the latter. No longer. It mattered not if he could be eternally damned, Lachlan embraced the savagery blooming inside, vowing never again to cage his darker side.

  He shiktered, moving with the shadows, breaking bones, slicing throats, and severing limbs giving them no chance to scream. Within seconds, the tunnel echoed with a chilling silence. He did not linger, but swallowed the shadows into his being, embracing the da
rkness even more, searching for his people, taking down every guard he passed in the labyrinth of the dungeons.

  At times he touched his mind to his mate along the unique pathway they’d formed. The snakes had one directive, keep her safe at all costs. And though he was confident he had absolute control of their will, there was a need inside him to reach out to her, to feel her, to taste her essence and hold it deep inside him.

  He came to a section that was isolated and manned by six warriors who were clearly a cut above the rest. He could feel the ugliness inside of them, sensed their depravity, and knew they were responsible for the sorry state the three young Darkans were in. Four of the guards were seated around a crude table, playing some sort of game, and drinking wine. Two stood ready and alert their hands on the hilt of their swords.

  Lachlan ignored them and moved into the cell caging his people. The female whimpered, her eyes widening with pitiful hope and shock when she spied him in the shadow space. He inhaled, unable to sense a beast within her, assessing her pain and the blood beneath her on the cold floor. Her skin was pale, her veins a blue spidery network all over her naked form. They had beaten her mercilessly, and from the dark bruises and red smears on her inner thighs, they had raped her.

  He shifted his attention to the two males chained to the wall, large nails driven into their wrists, ankles, and stakes in their stomach. They were gaunt and bloodied from their torture, but their eyes smoldered with the need for vengeance. They were young and without the full powers of their beast, and all related given their similar russet colored hair. No tattoos had formed on their bodies, placing their age below one hundred years. But he could feel the simmering darkness inside of them, waiting to mature and burst free.

  Lachlan’s lips curled in distaste. The empire had preyed on Darkans who were not old enough to call upon their beast powers fully to fight their way free. Moving in the shadow space, he made his way closer.