Broken Slumber: A Darkhills Romance

by Elizabeth Greene

  He considered the female again, turning his back to the flames and observing the long shadow he cast over where she lay in his bed. The scent of her fear had infiltrated every inch of her being. She hadn’t just been afraid of the mountain lion and then of him. Her fear had saturated her, it still clung to her clothes and her skin. It was hours old.

  Why had she been running in the forest at night, alone?

  Etienne’s brow lowered and anger filled his chest before he strode from his home and back out into the cave.

  This was the second woman in the space of just a couple of weeks that had been running in the forest at night. Etienne refused to believe it was a coincidence that they had both been running from the direction of the vampire’s estate.

  He dove off the cliff, shifting on the wing, the flash of his transformation illuminating the night sky like ethereal, violet lightning. Anger swelled in his chest like a building inferno.

  Lord Lucian Nightingale was about to feel his wrath.

  Chapter Four

  Brianna

  Soft warmth surrounded Brianna as she rubbed her cheek against the cosy surface. She stretched her body out full starfish and felt the plush warmth hug her all over. Oh, it felt so good to feel warm. She buried her head into the musty-smelling furs and willed herself back to sleep.

  Her eyes popped open however and took in the dense brown faux fur that was staring her in the face.

  What the Hell?

  Brianna sat up quickly and cursed as pain drummed a heavy beat through her head. She blinked repeatedly until the bright spots had cleared from her vision. She stared out into the fur-lined room and rubbed at her eyes. Surely this wasn’t real, and she was still dreaming. She’d had the most intense and exhausting dreams. She’d been running in a dark forest, from some unseen creature. Then she’d been hiding from a mountain lion. Then a dragon had swooped down and carried her off into the night.

  And now, she was in a room that looked like something out of the stone ages. She half expected Fred Flintstone to walk into the room at any moment.

  What had she been drinking the night before to have come up with this array of insanity?

  Brianna lifted her hands and scrubbed at her hair that had turned into a voluminous wild mass of curls. Her subconscious could’ve at least done her a solid and have her wake up looking like a Disney princess for once.

  She looked around her strange surroundings again when something prickly caught her fingertips as she absently combed through the curls. She plucked it out and held a scraggly looking thorned twig in front of her face.

  Brianna dropped it and immediately began feeling her hair for more of the same. One by one she pulled out more twigs, broken leaves and the odd small clump of dried dirt.

  She looked down at it all where she had collected it neatly in her lap. It sat amongst the furs and she reached out and picked up the first thorny twig to examine it again. Surely this wasn’t real?

  Brianna pressed her finger into the thorn and winced as a sharp scratch pierced her skin and blood instantly pooled in a little bright red drop. She pulled out the thorn and sucked at her fingertip. She had felt that, and she could taste her own blood.

  She suddenly looked around her surroundings with fresh trepidation.

  Furs lined what looked like stone walls, the floor was made of the same stone, where there wasn’t an animal hide covering its surface. She was sat amongst a huge pile of the same furs. She began to doubt they were fakes. Over on the far side of the space was a fire burning steadily. The pop and crackle of the flames was the only sound to be heard.

  Brianna threw the piles of furs off her, trying not to imagine what poor creature they had once belonged to. She looked down at her appearance, she was still fully dressed. It was both reassuring and worrying. While she could assume nothing had happened to her of a sexual nature, her clothes were covered in dirt and were torn in places.

  She crawled out from the mound of softness and scrambled to her feet. Her muscles practically groaned in complaint. She ached everywhere and her ankle felt particularly tender. Her head spun again, and she sucked in long slow breaths.

  Had she really been running through that forest?

  By the state of her, she had to believe that it hadn’t been a dream. But why had she been there in the first place? How did she get to a forest? What happened to her apartment in the city? Her head hurt with all the unknowns, so she tried to focus on what she did know.

  She was in a furry cave. She couldn’t remember getting there. She had clearly been running in that forest by the looks of her dirty appearance and the way her body ached. She had no idea if the mountain lion had been real or if the dragon had been real. She shook her head. The dragon couldn't have been real, she must’ve passed out and made that crazy shit up. But the mountain lion was a real possibility. Those existed.

  She slowly walked over to the fire, noticing footprints in the ash that surrounded it. Human footprints. Huge human footprints. She glanced to the towel that was hanging by the fire and tentatively crept over to it reaching out to touch it. It was completely dry. So, she had no idea how long it had been hanging there.

  Someone had brought her to this place. By the looks of things, some kind of big-footed caveman. Did Bigfoot exist? Had she discovered Bigfoot?! Her editor would lose his ever-loving mind if she could get a scoop like that.

  What was she thinking? Bigfoot? She shook her head at her own ridiculousness.

  The thought of her editor jarred her memory and she thought back to the last thing she could remember before running in the forest. She had been in her apartment; she’d gone to sleep worried about keeping her contract at the Herald. Her editor had torn into for not turning in anything of note. She was going to meet with someone the next day, she remembered feeling unsure about it and like it would be a false lead, but she had felt desperate. She squinted her eyes closed and willed herself to burrow deeper into her memories. But there was nothing. She tried to recall who it was she had been planning to meet with, but she kept drawing a blank.

  Just like she did every time she tried to remember what had led to her running in the forest. There was nothing there. Had she hit her head? Did she have amnesia?

  That couldn’t be it. She could remember a lot of things. She was Brianna St Clare, age 31, she was a reporter, she lived in the city, she had parents and a younger sister and they still all got together every year to celebrate birthdays at the Pancake House. Her first kiss had been a boy called Taylor, he had braces and they had cut her lip.

  Nope, not amnesia.

  She stood and looked around Bigfoot’s home. Was it a home? As far as she could see it was just one large room with floor to ceiling fur wallpaper. She assumed she was alone. There was no other sign of life in the place. But perhaps her rescuer, if she could call Bigfoot that, was watching her from somewhere. She looked to the walls, she couldn’t see an opening or door anywhere, but she had to have gotten into the room somehow. Brianna tiptoed over to the wall by the fire and began running her hand along the soft wall.

  So many furs…

  They had kept her nice and toasty earlier, so she had to assume they served to insulate the room. They couldn’t have been for aesthetic purposes. She didn’t like to judge anyone on their tastes, but if this was purely decoration, then Bigfoot needed to read a few more home styling magazines because caveman-chic, wasn’t a thing.

  Brianna kept running her hand along the wall looking for any hint of a doorway, when the wall seemed to fall away beneath her hand, the thick dark brown fur dipped backwards into empty space.

  Bingo.

  Brianna cautiously peeled back the animal hide and peered into the darkness. There was a passageway or a tunnel of sorts. The walls were made of the same rough stone as the rest of the place, as far as she could tell. She couldn’t see far into the narrow dark space. A cold breeze swept through the shadows and tickled her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. While she could let herself beli
eve her reaction was an instinctual response to something ominous lurking in the dark, Brianna forced herself to think rationally. The cold breeze was just that. And if a breeze was blowing through the tunnel then she would wager that if she followed this path, she would eventually find a way out. She didn’t know what she would find once she got to wherever ‘out’ was, but she couldn’t sit around and wait to see what would become of her if she stayed in Bigfoot’s cave.

  Fear teased at her senses again, it felt weirdly familiar, probably from however long she had spent running through that forest. There wasn’t time to dwell on it. If she had kept going in that forest despite her fear, then she could keep going now. Brianna pulled the fur back into place and walked over to the fire, picking up the longest piece of wood she could find. She poked the end into the flames and waited for it to catch.

  Wielding her makeshift torch and potential weapon, Brianna parted the furs once more and stepped behind them into the doorway.

  Shoving down her fear, she took a deep breath and started putting one foot in front of the other, holding her flickering piece of firewood out in front of her.

  Slowly, slowly. It’s all OK. She told herself over and over in her mind.

  Her feet scuffed on some loose rocks on the floor, the sound echoing along the tunnel and she cursed. She had never been the most light-footed or graceful of women, even as a kid she had carried around enough baby fat to make her nowhere close to dainty. So, she didn’t have stealth on her side, but she was smart, she was tenacious, and she had a love of life and she would be damned if she weren’t going to survive this insane situation.

  She also had her trusty, fiery, wooden friend with her. Mr. Flamey would keep her safe and show her the way to go. Yes, she had named her makeshift torch. His very presence filled her with an ounce more courage than she would’ve had otherwise as she carefully crept along the dark and foreboding tunnel. Mr. Flamey was a good friend, and she would honour him by thinking of him as such.

  Perhaps I did hit my head at some point.

  Before Brianna could think too much on her apparent mental breakdown, another chill swept through the tunnel, making her torch flicker, she turned her back to the breeze, shielding the delicate flame with her body.

  For someone so brave, Mr. Flamey sure was fragile.

  Once the air stilled once more, she hurried further along the passageway until she came to the smooth suede of another hanging fur. She held her torch behind her and poked her nose out to spy on what lay beyond. Darkness and shadows greeted her and cold fresh air. She hadn’t realised until that moment how stuffy Bigfoot’s home had been until she could practically taste the clean, crispness. She listened hard for any sign of life. All she heard was the wind howling, not far away.

  Carefully, Brianna pulled the heavy animal hide to one side and held her torch out in front of her. It was a cave, a huge cave with stalactites hanging down from the roof, some looked as though they had broken clean off. In the corner, more animal hides were hanging on rope and from the smell, she guessed they were fresh.

  Brianna turned her face and breathed through her mouth so that she wouldn’t gag. Her eyes landed on a stone table of some kind, it was darker in places and she crept closer to inspect it further. As she held the light over her head the dark brown-red stain that was smeared all over the surface and walls beyond made her body go cold.

  Blood.

  Those were blood stains. She gagged this time and quickly scurried away from the sight, keen to put as much distance as she could between her and whatever horrific events had taken place. Was she next? Had Bigfoot brought her here to slaughter her?

  Shit, Shit, Shit.

  Brianna stopped looking where she was going and tripped as she rushed towards the mouth of the cave. She cursed as her torch rolled out of her hand. Brianna scurried to gather it up again and hold it out in front of her.

  Don’t leave me now Mr. Flamey.

  The wind whipped round and caused Mr. Flamey to shiver. She pulled him in close again and turned her back to the wind to shelter him.

  She needed to get going, Brianna wasn’t sure how much longer her fiery friend would last, and she wanted to get far away from Bigfoot. As she stood, she focused her eyes on the ground around her. Large lines had been furrowed into the rock, they had been dug into the stone, gouged by something. She spun around and looked along the walls. The same lines appeared sporadically along the rocky surface. They reminded her of scratch marks. But what could’ve made a scratch mark that big and in stone no less?

  Realisation dawned on her as she stepped out onto the rocky ledge and felt the cold wind whip at her. Pushing her hair back, she trembled as she lifted her eyes upward and found an imposing cliff edge rising high into the clouds. Brianna turned as if in a trance and held her torch out, the rocky ledge on which she stood ended abruptly a few yards away, only fog existed beyond.

  Dragons aren’t real. She told herself. They couldn’t be.

  The wind blew hard, and her torch roared in anguish as it was battered by the force.

  No! Brianna cursed and ran back toward the mouth of the cave to seek shelter. She couldn’t stay there. She couldn’t sit happily in some furry cave and wait to be a dragon’s snack. What if the footprint in the ash was the only thing left of Bigfoot?

  Oh, Bigfoot no, I’m so sorry I doubted you. Brianna cried internally.

  She needed to run. She needed to get far away from there before the creature returned. She peered around the entrance of the cave and scanned the cliff face at the edge of the rocky ledge. There was a narrow path. Extremely narrow. She’d have to cling on to the mountain as she side stepped along it.

  She wished it were daytime, but she simply couldn’t risk waiting any longer. The dragon could be back at any moment.

  Brianna pulled together what courage she had left and hurried over to the ledge. She stepped onto it and gripped at the sharp rocky surface of the mountain. She swallowed hard when she realised, she needed both her hands if she was going to be able to survive the climb at all. She sucked in a breath and just before she could drop the torch, a harsh wind blew and took Mr. Flamey from her, sending him careening down into the fog until she couldn’t see his light anymore.

  She lamented the loss of him, but she needed to continue, putting her trust in her sense of touch rather than her eyesight. She supposed it was a good thing that the fog was so dense, it stopped her from being able to see how high up she was. Or how far she had to fall.

  With slow and careful steps Brianna inched her way along the mountain side, her hands gripping the rocky surface with fierce determination, refusing to acknowledge the cold as it tried to numb her fingers. She couldn't let them go numb. She needed them. Adrenaline was her friend now and that would be what would get her through this.

  Brianna and her new friend would’ve gotten on fine if she hadn’t missed her footing and felt the rock give way beneath her feet. She clung to the mountain with everything she had. One of her feet still had purchase on the path, while the other had pulled up and found a bump in the mountain side to rest on, but she didn’t dare put any weight on it.

  All her attempts to stay focused left her, and Brianna felt fresh and overwhelming fear as she realised that there was an extremely good possibility that she was about to die.

  Chapter Five

  Etienne

  Etienne folded his wings behind him and shifted as he landed in front of the vampire’s vast and extravagant home. As a dragon, he could appreciate expensive taste, but it didn’t mean he always thought it necessary to showcase one’s wealth to the world.

  Typical vampire. All about the glossy lifestyle.

  Etienne stalked towards the main doors, not stopping to knock. He broke the lock with ease, shoving the doors open wide and causing one to break free from its heavy hinges. The vampire could afford to repair the damage. If Etienne didn’t burn the bloodsucker to a crisp.

  He strode forward to find the woman named Katherine looking dishev
elled and flushed on a chair in the middle of the vast hall, her legs spread wide and tied at the ankle to the chair legs.

  Lucian turned furious eyes on Etienne and hissed from where he knelt between the woman’s thighs. Two puncture wounds glistened crimson on the damsel’s thigh and the vampire’s mouth was red with the female’s blood.

  “You lying cur!” Etienne roared out and wasted no time in barrelling the vampire to the ground.

  They tussled for a few seconds, throwing punches in a fit of grunts and hisses. The vampire was fast and almost gained the upper hand, until eventually Etienne’s superior strength won out and he held the vile creature down, his knees digging into Lucian’s arms while he held his neck in a deadly grip. A scuffle and a huff of effort sounded behind him.

  “Oh my God! Get off him,” the female cried out right before she threw herself at his back and started raining down ineffective punches onto his shoulders.

  She must’ve escaped her bonds, but the poor thing was still under the vampire’s hypnosis.

  “Katherine, please, leave this to me,” the vampire wheezed out, before fixing his dark eyes on Etienne’s. The strong pull of the creature’s will tugged at his mind, seeking submission.

  “Don’t try that shit with me, Lucian,” Etienne growled out before reaching around and pulling the female off him with one strong arm.

  “Desist, female, you are under a vampire’s thrall. Once I have killed him you will come to your senses,” he barked at the woman who continued to glare at him.

  “Etienne, she isn’t under my thrall,” Lucian bit out.

  “That’s right, I’m not. Now get the Hell off the man I love,” the woman demanded, throwing herself at him again, this time wrapping her arm tightly around his neck and squeezing with all her might.

  “Love?” Etienne frowned in confusion. “From what I know, it is not customary to be shackled and drained of your blood by someone you love.”