9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC

by Unknown

  The man never put in an appearance.

  MeLora had simply snickered about his problem and went ahead with her plans, telling him she’d figure out another way to get him inside the palace.

  But she hadn’t retuned until daylight and she’d smirked, looking like a cat with a secret no one knew but her. He’d clenched his fingers to keep from throttling her there and then. Her time was coming…

  So here he was, back at the palace on Sunday night, waiting for Captain Koran T once again. And still, the captain hadn’t appeared at his post.

  MeLora’s earlier boasts of how she’d mated with King Darak buzzed around in his mind like an annoying insect. He muttered angrily, still chafed at her informing him that she had sweet-talked King Darak into giving him Helayne.

  Blast it! He didn’t want the king to give him anything. He wanted to take everything the king loved and destroy it. He wanted Darak to care what he did to Helayne, but MeLora had fixed that, just one more reason for him to torture the bitch when the time came.

  He would see to it personally that MeLora paid for interfering with his pleasure.

  And where in hell was the Captain of the Guards?

  Obviously, the dedicated Captain Koran T wasn’t so dedicated after all, or else he’d be at his post. Two nights in a row now, the man had not been where he should have been. This gave him cause to worry. Something wasn’t right, and he wondered if the captain’s disappearance would somehow destroy his own plans.

  Black Drayke pushed agitated fingers through his dark hair. Just because Captain Koran T failed to show up at his post, he wasn’t about to let it wreck his plans another night.

  So he chose the next best man to inhabit.

  Lieutenant Mavik.

  Though he selected the lieutenant with trepidation, there was no one else suitable. Mavik was such a little shit. He wasn’t what Black Drayke considered a witch’s man.

  Black Drayke curled his lips with distaste as he slid into the lieutenant’s body like an oily shadow, taking swift control of the waken’s mind. He’d heard it rumored that the scrawny, carrot-topped lieutenant was a free spirit, preferring males over female witches.

  He vowed that if one waken dared to cast a romantic, suggestive eye his way, he’d place such a curse on him the waken’s root would be permanently limp and leaky.

  Making himself comfortable inside the smaller frame of Mavik’s form, Black Drayke sighed and wondered how appealing the queen would find a short, freckle-faced, free-spirited waken? Probably not very, but he had to get to the queen’s chambers and take control of her, at least for the time being, until he could perfect his new plans.

  Quickly, Black Drayke moved past the palace guards, ignoring their salutes as he made his way through the public entrance of the palace, past the Grand Library constructed of red brick and Portland stone dressings. He eyed the rosy-colored walls and intricate marble columns that supported the great room of the Royal Chapel of Samhain. He sailed past it, his lips curled with distaste. When his son was king, he’d see that everything was painted dull black. All this warm, rich color was nauseating.

  The queen’s doing, of course. But soon, the queen would no longer have a say about how things were done at the palace of Ru-Noc.

  He started up the Grand Staircase that led up to the family’s private living quarters. The staircase twisted and curved with sparkling crystal banisters. Thick, red carpet paved the way, muffling his hurried footsteps.

  He snickered. It didn’t matter how distasteful the queen might find him in this form, with the powder Wizard Marcelo made for him, she would have nothing to say about anything.

  Black Drayke frowned. He paused and fastened his gaze to the lower regions of the black and gold uniform he now wore. Why, the little shit. Apparently the officer wasn’t a man’s man after all, because that was a definite stirring of life behind the zipper. Mavik’s little wiener was rising to the occasion at the thought of mating with Queen Helayne. How disappointed Mavik’s cock was going to be. He had no intention of touching the queen in Mavik’s form.

  The private corridors of the palace seemed endless, winding and breaking into separate chambers for the royal family. Black Drayke sneered as he strode past Talon’s suite. Soon, very soon, those chambers would belong to him and Saylym Winslow. He would move her right into the palace, right into Talon’s bed, and he’d be the one fucking her.

  Once he did away with the king, he and his chosen queen would rule Ru-Noc. He just might decide to invade the illumrof realm as well. Long had the illumrofs forced his race into hiding. No more! Things were going to change.

  He mulled over exactly what he had planned for Helayne. She would beg him for mercy before he finished with her. Wouldn’t that be a rich humiliation for the royal family? The queen, begging?

  Yes. The thought had potential.

  He would torture Helayne at his leisure then make Saylym his queen.

  They were both witches about whom Talon cared.

  Maybe he would keep them both just for the fun of tormenting the prince, at least, for as long as Talon lived.

  Mentally he rubbed his hands. Oh, the things he was going to do to those two witches. His lips twisted with delight. Then again, if it suited his pleasure, he would simply destroy Helayne and be done with it.

  Black Drayke paused outside the queen’s chambers and raised his fist to knock. It paid to use caution. He couldn’t just assume the queen didn’t have visitors or guards posted inside.

  “I’ve come for you, My Queen,” he whispered. Excitement and the true evil he’d disguised from others for so long vibrated through his voice. “From tonight, you are mine to do with as I will.”

  He rapped sharply on the door a second time and waited.

  Time was wasting.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sarah Osborne died in prison.

  ~Salem Witch Trials

  May 10, 1692

  Page Entry…

  MeLora had triumphed. In her evil heart, she felt like she’d bested her mother and her aunt by sleeping with John Connor. She laughed with the thrill of it all and hungered for more. She’d stolen Elsbeth’s husband and willingly surrendered her virginity to John. She wanted to conceive his child, prove his infidelity. It’d give her the greatest pleasure to inflict more pain on Elsbeth by informing her John’s seed ripened in her belly.

  But MeLora, being young and inexperienced in the way of witches, had miscalculated. She didn’t take in to consideration that early winter raged and it was a very long time until Beltane. She wouldn’t be fertile until May, but she’d already placed John under a powerful love spell. His instinct was to mate with her, and he wanted her with a passion she hadn’t anticipated or wanted.

  Through the long, harsh winter, John and MeLora met every day, either in the woods or at the shop. She took great care to remove her scent from John’s clothes and body. Until she conceived, she wasn’t quite ready for Elsbeth to discover John’s sin.

  Early spring arrived, but by this time, MeLora was bored with John’s constant demands for her to meet him in the woods behind his house. To MeLora, he was old and dull, but the risk of meeting him so close to his home and family, thrilled her, a risk she gladly accepted.

  Beltane arrived, but still she did not conceive John’s babe. MeLora no longer had a deep care or concern that Elsbeth and her daughters might catch them coupling in the forest. Maddened by the need to conceive, MeLora met with John every time he demanded she lie with him.

  Then one day, a handsome warlock stepped onto the winding path in the woods—Black Drayke.

  ~Pages of history from the Winslow witches.

  In the Year of Samhain, 1692

  Droth

  Queen Helayne made her way down the wide corridors in search of her mate. Darak hadn’t returned to their chambers last night, and she had been so busy, she hadn’t had time to seek him out all day. Now the hour grew late, past time when he should have retired for the evening.

  Where
was he?

  It wasn’t like him to stay away from her for so many hours. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was avoiding her. But Darak was always considerate and generous with his time for her. Her life with him was content, even if it was a bit like living in a fish bowl.

  As the royal family of Ru-Noc, they were in the public eye. Being in the public eye was to be expected, but when it came to their family, they strove to keep their private life, private, and maintain a quiet family existence. She cherished those moments because they were so rare.

  If she had a quarrel with her mate at all, it would be his stubbornness with their younger son, Talon. The two of them simply could not get along. She smiled, knowing it was because they were just alike, although they’d both deny it.

  Helayne paused as she recognized the young lieutenant standing outside her and Darak’s private chambers. “Lieutenant Mavik? May I be of service to you?”

  The lieutenant turned, leering at her. He moved slowly toward her, a saunter that could only be described as disrespectful. “Yes, sweeting, you may be of service to me. In truth, before this night is over, you will more than suit my needs.”

  She regarded him, her gaze narrowing at his too-familiar and insolent tone of voice. “I beg your pardon?”

  The red-haired lieutenant held out his hand and quickly blew a gray powder into her face. Helayne wiped frantically at the fine particles burning her eyes. “What are you doing?” She coughed, but the powder coated her tongue. She inhaled deeply, filling her nostrils with the gritty residue. Immediately, it felt as if toxic, corrosive acid washed down the back of her throat, leaving a scalding and bitter trail.

  “That’s it, darling,” he crooned. “Breathe it in.”

  Helayne clawed wildly at her throat. The faint mewling sounds she made gradually faded as her vocal cords shriveled and died. Her flesh itched and burned as if thousands of bees stung her all at once. Maddened, she scraped fingernails up and down her arms, leaving raw, bloody furrows. She staggered back against the wall, ribbons of blood streaming from her eyes, blinding her.

  “You may beg my pardon all you wish, My Queen, but before the night is finished, you’ll realize begging won’t do you one trickle of good. Not now. Not ever again. You have been given to me, a gift from your loving mate. It seems his interests now lie elsewhere. You belong to me, love. And I intend to use you well.”

  He caught her in his arms and pressed a rough kiss to her mouth. Her lips parted in protest, in denial of Darak’s betrayal, but no sound emitted from her tortured throat. Helayne sobbed silently against his mouth, beating at his chest with her fists.

  But there was no stopping the straining thrust of her body against his in wanton invitation. Black Drayke lifted her gown and pushed his hand between her thighs, stroking her woman’s mound with his fingers. He smiled at strangling noises of protest.

  “That’s right, darling,” he whispered quietly. “You’ll never speak again. But I know what you want, what your body craves now. The special formula designed just for you is an aphrodisiac that fires the blood with lustful craving. Your body now craves mine, but I won’t give you the relief you need.” He laughed. “I’m the only one who shall gain pleasure this night.”

  Black Drayke glanced up and winked at the palace guard who came around the corner on hourly rounds. He’d timed it perfectly so the guard saw him stroking the queen between her silken thighs.

  For a moment, the guard hesitated, unable to conceal his shock. Black Drayke laughed at the brilliant shade of red on the waken’s face. Then he made certain the guard saw him kiss Queen Helayne. The sentry cleared his throat, stumbled over his feet and hurried past them.

  Backing Helayne inside her chambers, Black Drayke snickered. “You can bet by morning, it’ll be all over the palace how Lieutenant Mavik was seen groping and kissing Queen Helayne in the corridor outside her private quarters. Do you think King Darak will be upset by this bit of palace gossip?”

  He paused to secure the door behind them with a thick coating of Black Magick. No one would be able to get past his safeguards, certainly not that buffoon of a guard tripping over his own feet.

  The night was his.

  He smiled. Correction, the night was his and so was Queen Helayne.

  Black Drayke arched a brow and lowered his voice to a false intimacy, “I promise you, My Queen, this will be a night you’ll never forget. It’ll leave you speechless.” He threw back his head and laughed cruelly. “Speechless. Get it?” He slid a fingertip down her icy cheek. “We have many hours ahead of us…hours of pleasure…my pleasure…right up until the moment I decide if you are to keep your soul or not.”

  Black Drayke wasn’t one for niceties or delays. He was here for a purpose and nothing was going to hinder him or slow him down. Neither was he one for inhabiting another’s body. He detested Lieutenant Mavik’s less than masculine form and the little wiener inside his pants.

  He wanted Helayne to know that he was the one who stood before her. He slid free of Lieutenant Mavik’s shape like a snake shedding its skin and stood before the queen, surveying her with malevolent intent.

  Tugging at her waist, he drew her close. “That’s much better, my dear.”

  Her panicked gaze flicked over the zombie-like form of the lieutenant. She opened her mouth, gurgling.

  “Don’t mind him, darling. He hasn’t a clue as to what’s happening around him.” He leaned close, whispering, “In essence, my body has already devoured everything alive in his. A walking dead man, if you know what I mean.” He closed his fingers around her shoulders and squeezed. “Soon, his body will melt away to nothingness.”

  Helayne sobbed, cowering.

  He raked a fingernail down her cheek leaving a thin trail of blood. “Now, now, my darling, don’t fret, it’ll be hours yet before he dissolves. Don’t worry about him. We’ll be much too busy for him to disturb us.”

  Her lips trembled. Her body shook. Black Drayke threw back his head, clenching his teeth in blissful happiness. His body rippled with pleasure. Watching her terror grow was so exciting, it was almost as good as climaxing.

  Helayne stared at him, her mouth working desperately. She backed away from him.

  He shook his head. “Tsk, darling. It’s a bitch not to be able to scream. Isn’t it? I have to confess, I ordered that powder triple strength just so it would melt your vocal cords. I simply couldn’t have someone charging to your rescue, now could I?” He smiled, his lips twisting with cruelty. “Relax, my darling. Our fun is just beginning.”

  Black Drayke raised his hands, pointing them toward Helayne. Tiny gold sparks shot toward her, popping against her mouth. Helayne swallowed, her eyes widening with refreshed terror. Black Drayke roared with smug laughter before returning his merciless gaze on her.

  “See, my dear, things can actually get worse. Now you can’t even open your mouth to hint at a protest.” He jerked her out of the corner where she cowered and pushed her to the floor, where he fell on top of her and snickered. “Yes,” he moaned. “I’ve waited a lifetime for this.

  “Just so you know it won’t really be me entering your body, but a demon that aches for revenge against you.”

  Helayne felt her eyes widen.

  “Who, you ask?” He laughed. “Kallibus sends his regards. He said tell you that you know very well why he’s inside my body.” Black Drayke locked his fingers tightly around her slender wrists and squeezed the delicate, bird-like bones until they shattered, breaking into splinters.

  She shook her head from side to side, a silent scream dying in the back of her throat. Kallibus. She should have known he’d eventually seek justice. Her chest heaved with sobs but no sound escaped her. The warlock had rendered her hands as useless as her voice. He had no intention of allowing her a way to fight him.

  “Look at me, Helayne,” he ordered hoarsely.

  Helayne raised her gaze to Black Drayke’s dark face.

  “I know your mind struggles to fight me, but the potion
I used on you makes your body crave the demon’s touch. We smell your need, your desire. Know that once I’m finished with you, your son, Talon is going to cease to exist, that’s my revenge. Before his spirit is cast into exile, Stry and Kali will know their true birthright and the princess will be mine.” He laughed crazily. Helayne knew the pain and terror showed on her face. She shook her head wildly, bucking beneath him, to no avail. He saw the loathing in her eyes. “The next babe you conceive will be through me from Kallibus’ seed. You will bear his child, then I’m going to destroy everything Talon loves, everything you love, until nothing is left for either of you.”

  Unable to control the hot desire racing through her blood, Helayne lifted her hips, arching wildly, seeking the release her body demanded.

  “Alas, my love,” Drayke hissed. “I cannot accommodate you. Kallibus wants you to suffer.”

  Her body twisted and bucked.

  He laughed, savoring her torment. “You know what the really enjoyable part of all this is?” He slid his tongue down one smooth cheek then raised his head, staring at her, “the fact that the king handed you over to me without a hint of protest.”

  Helayne shook her head in denial of this betrayal.

  “It’s true, sweeting. He gave you to me to do with as I will.” He laughed softly, lowered his head, and chanted, releasing the spell on her mouth. Slowly, he dipped his head and drew the breath from her mouth. “And I have a lot of will.”

  Helayne shivered. Her tear-filled eyes flashed with wild desperation as she realized what he was about to do to her next. A fine tremor shook her body. She flinched with the pain that slashed through her breasts.