Shadows of the Keeper

by Karey Brown

  Emily knew, down to her toes, this being was terror on a tight leash. Let loose . . . beyond sanity to think on.

  “You have a power,” Inzyr continued. “Dormant, surging to be free, vast in its ability. You will train under me, freeing that power before it comes calling and you lack aptitude to control it. This, this is what your Dezenial fears.”

  “My Dezenial?”

  Inzyr laughed softly, shaking his head and easing away. “Your woman is in need of her coffee. Her brain rattles like gourds shamans raise to their gods.” He exited by route the guards had taken earlier.

  “Why does he refer to me as your woman?”

  “Several times, I have saved your life, forfeiting my own council to stay away from you.” The Lumynari moved in on her, taking her around the shoulders. His hands were warm and huge. A shudder surged through her. Her heart thumped erratically.

  She did not see his grin.

  “Come. Allow me to show you hospitality. We usually only bring humans down for sport in our arenas or torment.” Her shocked expression made him laugh devilishly, fully aware it made her toes curl and her palms sweat. Unable to resist, he came around in front of her, pretended to have need to work the kinks from his neck and then stretched. The brazen hussy scrutinized parts of his anatomy no lady would dare admit to staring at. Her tongue darted out, moistening her bottom lip. Now he was the one in dire of a shower—ice cold!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Water’s heavenly.” Droplets flung from her fingers as she stood again, shaking her hand dry. “Uh, you can leave now.’ I’m a big girl. I can bathe all by myself.”

  “Keer’dra. Your life is in danger, even in my kingdom. It is why, when you awaken, there will be guards posted to the four corners of your bed, if I am away. And I would suggest you curb your tongue. I might be tempted to take it.”

  Emily leaned closer to him, conspiratorially looking over her shoulder, in case they were overheard. “Think enemies will slither in through the drain?”

  Dezenial leaned down, whispering, “I think your sarcasm is about to earn you a beating.”

  Emily stomped her foot.

  “Very effective. Do it again. This time I promise to flinch on cue.”

  “Dezenial! You will not remain in here while I bathe. I won’t have it. Bad enough being naked when we were prisoners, but I refuse to continue now that we’re in a semblance of sophistication.”

  He lazed against the door, arms folding. Emily’s gaze lapped up his bulging biceps—then frowned. Instead of a tattoo, there was a carved design of swirls around a crescent moon pierced with . . . an . . . arrow!

  “It is my royal mark. It is the mark I placed upon Zaiyne, the mark my father placed upon Aurelia’s wrist, and the same you chose for yourself to tattoo on your back. Genetic memory, or so Inzyr calls it.”

  Just what I need, more weird. Why can’t anyone understand there’s only so much woo-hoo a brain can handle before it shimmies over the wall of lunacy? Maybe if I scream, nonstop, Bubba here will finally understand? Hot bath. It’s all I want. “Could you at least turn around?”

  “Ever thought you heard something,” he made a pinching motion, “just a small something, but enough to give you pause? Your body tenses. Your heart thuds. Shadows come alive. Peripheral movement.”

  All the time. Since my aunt’s murder. Woman never was kind, but a body in the house did offer a measure of comfort versus being home alone.

  Dezenial pushed away from the door. He took a step towards her. “The stairs creak.”

  I hate the dark. Things always go bump in the night. House settling, my ass. How come they never settle during the day? She stepped back.

  “You lie in your bed, marinating in fear. Too afraid to get up and investigate because maybe, just maybe something really does exist under your bed . . . waiting to grab your ankles.” He took another step closer.

  Hate living alone. Can’t sleep. Unless radio’s on. Tom Petty, Doobie Brothers, Fleetwood Mac. Blocks out those damnable noises. The terror. Again, she retreated.

  “Above you, something scurries. Mice?” Dezenial’s gaze jailed hers, immobilizing her body.

  “Squirrels bedding down for the night,” she whispered. Another step advanced on her. Bravery thudded upon the onyx tiles. She actually heard it skittering away.

  “Some nights, there isn’t a sound. No creaks. No settling noises of an old house,” he whispered.

  I lived in an old house.

  “You forget your fear. You grow . . . comforted by familiar possessions surrounding you. No longer do you huddle, a blanket clutched up to your chin.”

  A quilt, her first and final attempt at sewing. The disproportionate rag had become her favorite.

  “Late night. You awaken, parched. Ice water . . . bottled.”

  Hate tap water. Chlorine is too pungent.

  “Halfway down the stairs . . . what’s that? Did something . . . move?” His final step placed him against her, forcing her to look up at him. Unknowingly, her hand pressed against his chest. Where his warm flesh touched, she quivered. “Sixth sense warns you. Terrified, you race up the stairs, slamming shut your door. Locking it . . . against . . . what?” Lunar brow arched down at her.

  “How . . . could you possibly . . . know?” So captivated by his intensity, Emily was incoherent of her fingers pinching and pulling at his taut nipple.

  He burned to fist her hair, devour her mouth—

  “Because,” he said, his voice husky, “I was the shadow lurking in your house. I even know of the times you raised your face after washing, fearful of what you’d see looking back at you from within your mirror.”

  “But . . . those thoughts were . . . in my mind.”

  He lowered his head, his whisper billowing against her ear. Her shiver excited the Lumynari in him. “I have always been in your mind, Keer’dra. Have you not figured out yet who I am? Have you not felt the whisper of me just a breath behind you? Never have you questioned the sudden warmth wrapping you on a chilled night, odd you never questioned your longing gaze upon a horizon visible only to you.” He inhaled the scent of her. Of its own accord, her neck arched back. His large, warm hand caressed her face. “I am your faceless lover in sexual fantasies you mistakenly assume are of your own making.”

  She trembled. His voice lapped her flesh. Desire torched flames along her spine. She’d sworn off men. Traitorous against her resolve, her body was very aware of his dominance, his pure maleness. And it screamed for more. If she leaned just a tiny bit more, she could taste—

  He stepped away. “If I can come to you even in your mirror, I dare not trust what else can. Take your bath, Keer’dra, enjoy the hot water, but you do not enjoy the luxury of solitude. I will not step away from you again, and this time, be too late to save your little neck.”

  “Fine!” She whirled from him, squared her shoulders, and with the blanket still wrapped tightly around her, stepped down into the pool he swore was used for bathing . . . damn thing’s large enough to fit twenty people!

  She flinched against his roar of laughter. “I hope you choke!”

  Her retort only succeeded in making him laugh more. “I fail to understand why you hide your curves from my viewing. Have you yet to realize we Lumynari see perfectly well in the darkest abyss you silly humans need lanterns and flashlights for every step you take?” His grin mocked her. “Your sweet curves are what kept me sane during incarceration. Who do you think cared for you when you arrived in my kingdom?” Azure gaze narrowed. “When you slept in my bed, in my arms, against heat of my nakedness? Do you think I would allow any other to sponge bathe the blood from your wounds? Place cool cloths upon your fever-ravaged body?”

  Gasping, she whipped around. “I find it in poor taste—“

  “I can see through the blanket, now that it’s drenched.” Slow, wicked smile curved chiseled lips. “Very, very nice, Keer’dra. Perhaps as you desire to lick my chest, I can lick the water from yours?”

  She glance
d down. And plunged into the water for modesty. The blanket, cumbersome and heavy, she let slip away. “A gentleman would pretend to not notice.”

  “A gentleman would have to be dead not to. I am Lumynari, not some tea party buffoon quivering upon every glance you think to graciously dole out.”

  “You’re a real bastard. I have never felt superior to men.” She remained huddled, arms folded across her breasts. The water was perfectly scalding, just the way she liked it . . . if it could just thaw the soul-deep chill—

  A slight splash caused her to look over her shoulder. “What are you doing?” she screeched, backpedaling. Not an easy task with her arms folded.

  “Turn around, Keer’dra. I might fall dead away from the sight of bared flesh.” He made a face. “I will wash your hair, since you seem unable to move.”

  “Don’t . . . touch me.” She resumed presenting her back. Faint lines zigzagged her pale flesh.

  “Too late.” He bent low, whispering in her ear. “I’ve touched you everywhere.”

  She flushed miserably. “You . . . lie.”

  “Even your little toes. I particularly enjoyed tracing your tattoo. Did I tell you how honored I am by your choice in body art?”

  Emily spun faster than he was ready for.

  She smacked his chest several times. Her smacks turning into balled up little fists, pummeling the rock-hard wall mimicking a male chest. He simply stood there, waist deep in water, allowing her tantrum. Emily sobbed. Her punches weakened and slowed. Drained, she collapsed. Dezenial caught her to him, the band of his arm offering comfort and strength, his other hand tightly cradling the back of her head.

  “Never was it my intention for you to be imprisoned.” His voice cracked. “I am sorry, Keer’dra. It was our belief you were better off in your world of light, than mine down here in darkness. I settled to protect you while remaining in the realm of your shadows,” He nuzzled her hair. “To be your fantasy.” Hades, but ignoring her nakedness pressing against him was more trying than the fire ritual he’d passed in his youth. He held her, allowing her to cry out her grief over brutal ordeals she’d suffered, over the acceptance forever denied her, and the final insult that had chased her into Drakar’s clutches.

  A slow death, the Forest Lord would suffer, for his words scorching her heart. Peter had slipped into death far too quickly, though Hades’ flamethrowers were certainly amusing themselves with the human’s soul. Broc would not fare so well. Emily had confided in him the reason for her running away in an attempt to seek escape from Castle MacLarrin. Her capture and degradation down here in Drakar’s prisons would be Broc’s consequence. But what his Emily did not yet realize, he had heard every uttered word the Forest Lord had made, right along with her.

  Emily sniffed, looking up at him, bleary eyed. “When you rescued me from Peter, I felt more safe than I ever had in my life . . . more safe than ever I’d felt with those dozens of males forever surrounding me when I was at Broc’s keep. I wanted to leave with you.” She dropped her gaze from his intense stare. “You left me. You didn’t want me.”

  “The bond between us cannot be denied, no matter the paths our lives place us upon.”

  “Seems my paths are full of manure and potholes.”

  His chuckling vibrated against her. “Turn around, and I’ll wash your hair.”

  She complied.

  “I will not deny who and what we are down here in Balkore, however, Princess Emily, realize that your questions may contain answers you’ve not been prepared for in your world.”

  “Why do I not fear you? Lord knows you keep trying. The night you rescued me from Peter, one of the Lumynari with you kept commenting on how I lacked fear. Oh-my-God, you should sell your hair-washing services. If you do all this before you add shampoo . . .” She moaned under his fingertips currently massaging her scalp. “Where is Peter? Hang on,” she turned to face him. “Did I really see you wag your finger at me? Were you beating him—“

  Dezenial dunked her.

  Emily geysered. Sputtering, she backslapped his mega-chest.

  “I had to get your hair good and soaked.”

  “You were trying to shut me up!”

  “Do not concern yourself with the human. That is final. Remember, Keer’dra, you reside in my world now. If I forbid you knowledge, respect it.” He leaned down, closer to her ear. “Shall we discuss your curiosity, and where it led you?” He mimicked Spinner hissing.

  “You’ve made your point.” She pointed to her head. “Back to massaging, Bub.”

  Dezenial complied.

  Her eyelids became heavy, her head falling back. Mewling escaped her. “You’re grinning. I can feel it.”

  “You purr.”

  “I scratch too. You have coconut scented shampoo?” she asked over his chuckling.

  “We are not completely uncivilized. We have patrols continuously trading with land-dwellers.”

  “When, during the week of Halloween? You guys put a whole new meaning into Trick-or-Treat. This water is uber hot, just the way I like it.”

  “Living in Balkore has its privileges. My chambers tap into hot springs.”

  “I could stay in this forever.” His massaging traveled down to her shoulders. Her head fell forward, giving him better access to her nape.

  “Your modesty leaves you.”

  “You’ve seen more of me than I have.”

  “Dunk.” He didn’t give her time to comprehend his command before pushing her under water again. She caught him off guard, swimming away and coming up for air several yards away. Treading water, she arched her head back, rinsing her hair even more. Peeking at him, she thrilled over his possessing her with his uncanny blue eyes. Flirtatiously, she leveled her gaze and lowered her arms. Time no longer slipped forward, nor paused. None existed here but the two of them. She offered a hint of a smile. Dezenial lowered the wide expanse of his torso into the steaming water, and glided towards her. Her smile broadened, encouraging his advance.

  Shoving hard against the water with her palms, she splashed him full in the face.

  He sputtered, spewed water, roared and bared his fangs.

  Emily shrieked with laughter.

  Dezenial eyes ignited into red flames . . . just before he submerged, his expression full of murderous intent. Emily twisted around and dove into the dark waters. Madly breast stroking, she pulled through water with fevered—

  A hand clamped around her ankle. Crying out, she gulped mouthfuls of water. Choking. Flailing furiously, she tried pushing off the Lumynari. His hold tightened. He pulled. She choked harder. White spots danced. Violently, she squirmed, frenzied. Screeching humming noises escaped her, gagging again. Abruptly seized around the waist, her body rocketed towards the surface.

  Coughing, sputtering, sneezing and dry heaving made her feel as if her ribs would crack. Dezenial raced her from the water, lifting her in one fluid motion. Gagging, grabbing her stomach, too weak to hold on, her toes curled tightly against the pain of trying to get air. Thick towel wrapped around her. She spied a sink and frantically jabbed towards it. Quickly, Dezenial helped her walk, her legs giving out several times. One last hard cough and water upheaved from her innards to spill out into the black marble sink.

  “In my world, a bath is for washing the body, not for drinking.”

  “I’m . . . dying and you . . . make jokes?”

  Grinning, he turned on the water. With gentleness belying the size of his hand, he washed her face with refreshing cold water. “Drink.” His palm cupped water for her to drink from, iciness soothing her raw throat. There was something genuinely erotic, drinking from his hand. Drying her face with the edge of the massive towel currently wrapped around her, he tucked the corner he’d used in between her breasts—she smacked his hand—he yanked her against him. “I think, Keer’dra, in the future, you should think out a plan before you attack. It does no good to go against your enemies and die in the trying.”

  “Shut up, Dezenial.” She huddled against him, absorbing
his body heat. Just as suddenly, she pulled away and sneezed. Her eyes bulged. She slammed against him, obstructing her view. “You’re naked!”

  “Yes. This is how one bathes.”

  “But . . . but . . . you don’t have on any clothes.”

  Shadow Master frowned. “This is one of those female trick observations trapping me into wishing I were dead, correct?”

  Face averted, she pulled away. “Put something on.”

  “Do I shame you, Keer’dra?”

  “Hardly.” She gasped. “What I meant was . . . well, what I meant to say –oh, just wrap that—wrap a towel around you!” Heat rushed across her face like a marching band with red banners.

  “Come. Your hair must be oiled and dried.” His tone chilled the room. “I do believe I offered you coffee.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt—“

  He was still naked!

  “Ruining my clothing while assisting you with your hair seemed a waste. Save your words, Princess Emily.” He shrugged, indifferent to her apologies. “Follow if you wish.” He moved away from her, muscled thighs and buttocks an amazing sight to behold. Unexpected flutters attacked her abdomen. She didn’t budge. Couldn’t. He looked . . . sculpted. If he were to pose for an art class, that would be one class where all students present would fail. They’d be too busy ogling. Or, trying to touch with the excuse they were interested in getting a feel for their specimen. Almost, she giggled. Another thought struck her, sobering her.

  Dezenial had watched over her an entire lifetime. He had intervened when danger lurked. All those times she’d been afraid of the dark, it had been him pushing back the nightmares, keeping her safe. He had given himself to Drakar’s patrol to save her.

  He turned around. Raged dripped as visually as rivulets of water rolled down his exquisite body. His chest swelled, his chin jut out and male pride made him even more something to behold. “Careful what begins to root in that little head of yours.”