After leaving the third room, she came to a tall, arched window. She moved in front of it, wondering if it had much of a different view than the one in her room or from what she’d seen when she’d been outside with Karn.
Raindrops rolled down the panes that were blurred from the rain. Not a speck of dust was anywhere and if it hadn’t been raining, no doubt the glass would be crystal clear.
She wondered if Beya cleaned the mansion or if there was a team who handled it. The woman seemed to be everywhere, but Annie doubted she did everything.
For a long moment she stood in front of the window. More moors and bare-branched trees were all she saw, no glimpse of the sea.
Annie turned away from the window. She felt compelled to continue on, as if being guided by an unseen force.
It wasn’t long before she reached a turn in the hall. The moment she walked around the corner, it was as if she’d entered a different mansion altogether. The flagstone tiles were dusty, the wallpaper old and peeling away from the walls, and large cobwebs clinging to corners. She didn’t want to run into the spiders that made these webs.
No sconces lit the way in this part of the hall. Only murky light came from one window that broke up the wall halfway between where she stood and a pair of doors.
As clean as the rest of the mansion was, it surprised her that this hallway looked so abandoned. Why?
She walked down the hallway, the dirty flagstones beneath her bare feet making her grimace. She paused in front of the cloudy window, the sill thick with dust. Through the dirty panes she could see raindrops spattering the window, but that was it. Only muted light made its way through, just enough that she wasn’t completely in the dark.
When she turned her gaze on the double doors, a sensation skimmed one arm, as if someone had brushed a hand over her.
Goose bumps pricked her skin. Her heart beat faster, and she shivered. What was that? Had it been her imagination?
She felt a strange pull toward the mahogany doors, unlike anything she’d experienced before. It was as though hands pressed against her back, pushing her toward the pair of doors.
A lump of fear rose in her throat as she moved, the fear rising when she reached the doors. Something warm and soothing brushed over her skin, as if everything was fine, as if she was where she was supposed to be.
She shook her head. Spirits? Ghosts? She’d never believed in them, but maybe this world was different. Or maybe she’d just never opened her mind to the possibility that there could really be such a thing.
After sucking in her breath and releasing it, Annie raised her hand and knocked. The sound echoed along the hallway and she felt another stir of fear that caused her skin to prickle. She knocked again, waiting one more moment, in case someone was in the room.
She felt gentle pressure on her hand, as if a spirit was truly guiding her. Annie reached out and gripped the door handle. The large pewter-like handle felt cold in her palm. The latch clicked when she pressed down on it with her thumb, but the door wouldn’t budge when she tried to push it.
The spirit—now Annie believed there actually was a spirit—encouraging her to try again by brushing over the back of her hand.
Even though the sensation caused hair to rise at her nape, Annie pressed on the handle and pushed again. She gritted her teeth and gave one more push.
The door gave in to her efforts. She lost her footing and stumbled forward. The hinges creaked and groaned, the sounds loud in the silence, sending a momentary chill down her spine.
Annie stepped into the room and squinted into the darkness. Her eyes adjusted to dim light forcing its way through three windows, one in each of the three walls before her.
Dark forms gradually came into view. A scream rose in her throat as terror made her heart beat faster.
The fear vanished the moment she realized what the dark forms were. In its place, a thrill bubbled inside her and almost made her bounce up and down and clap with excitement. She could hardly contain herself.
She’d discovered an art room.
Three easels occupied the center of the chamber, canvases were stacked against the walls, and countless other artist’s treasures filled the room. For the first time since arriving, Annie felt a burst of pure happiness. Art had always meant so much to her, the need to create, a part of her very soul.
She hadn’t been here long, but she already missed taking a brush to a canvas and painting whatever came to mind.
Like the mansion? She still had difficulty accepting she’d been taken through her own painting. The fact that she’d even created the dark, gloomy place was strange enough.
She went to the first easel and tugged on the cloth covering it, and dust clouded the air. Annie sneezed three times as she dropped the cloth to the floor and waved her hand in front of her face to clear the dust from view.
A painting of a beautiful white castle was to the left, the immense structure sparkling in sunshine. Acres of gardens in every color of the rainbow spread out before the castle. Everything about the scene was so different than the gloomy mansion. Why was the painting in here, and who had painted it?
She checked the lower right corner and saw the ornate initials, Q.E.
Who is Q.E.?
Whoever the artist was, he or she had incredible talent. “Maybe Karn will tell me who painted it.”
The moment she said the words, pressure gripped her upper arm and she jumped. A chill traveled through her and a clear thought went through her brain. “Do not tell Karn you have been in this room. Not yet.”
Annie put her palm to her racing heart. Had a spirit just spoken in her mind?
She mentally shook her head. It was crazy, but the thought was so emphatic, not to mention Karn was kind of scary, so maybe she shouldn’t say a word about this place.
For a long moment she stared at the castle, enjoying the lines, shading, and texture of the painting.
She moved on to another easel, and this time stepped back a little and held her breath as she removed the dusty cloth. Still, the moment she let her breath out, she sneezed and waved her hand in the air to get dust out of her face.
This painting was as delightful as the first. Water from a series of small pools spilled down a rocky surface, turning into a waterfall that tumbled down into a large pool. Trees, bushes, and clumps of yellow and white flowers surrounded it. A beautiful, magical world hidden deep in a forest. She imagined sitting on the flat boulder painted beside the pool, her knees drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her bare legs as she took in the beauty and breathed in the clean smells of the forest and the water.
The painting was so vivid that Annie could almost feel a breeze slide across her body while she caught and held each precious scent. Again, the artist had signed the initials Q.E.
When she had her fill of the second painting, Annie went to the third. Exposing each portrait was like opening a Christmas present.
The moment she revealed the third portrait, she sucked in her breath. It was a portrait of a young woman in black, her hair naturally streaked with blonde, her intense blue eyes flecked with silver.
In the portrait, the woman looked lost, as if she didn’t know where she was, or maybe who she was. Annie could imagine the woman putting her hands up to the painting, pressing against it as if trying to get through the walls of a glass prison.
A wave of sadness for the woman gripped Annie’s heart. Who was she? Had something happened to her? Something must have. She appeared too real to have been created purely from an artist’s imagination. No, this was the portrait of a woman as seen by the artist.
Annie’s gaze dropped to the lower right hand corner and once again saw Q.E.
Whoever Q.E. was, she or he had seen the woman as trapped in a prison, perhaps the prison of her own mind.
Annie frowned. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions, but that’s what she saw when she studied the painting. It made her profoundly sad for the young woman, an ache deep in her chest.
She left
the cloths on the floor and went to a stack of canvases leaning against one wall. She knelt and went through them, each painting a gift to treasure. One was of a horse-like beast she’d seen in the village that Karn had called a jul. Intelligence shone in its eyes and pride was clear in its bearing and raised head.
Another painting was of the mountain beyond the village she’d seen, and the artist had also painted the rocky cove with waves slamming against the shore. She lost herself in all the beauty created by Q.E. Annie wondered if he or she was still alive or if the person had passed away, leaving all of the art and tools behind.
One painting stopped Annie cold. It was a portrait of a young woman, her expression cold and dark. But her blue eyes, flecked with silver, looked haunted. And maybe a little frightened?
She shivered before going on to the next painting.
When Annie finished looking through the stack, she realized the room had grown darker. It was getting late. Even though she wanted to explore and discover what other delights the room held, she figured she should probably get back to her room and change for dinner.
Her knees cracked and ached as she stood. She looked at her arms, the dress, and her feet. She was covered in dust.
She had no idea how to make that waterfall bath work. “Maybe Beya can help me draw a bath.”
Beya appeared in a puff of sparkles, not unlike the clouds of dust rolling off the cloths when Annie had taken them off the paintings.
Startled, Annie let out a little cry and took a step back. She held her hand to her heart. “You scared me.”
“You summoned me.” Beya looked Annie up and down. “A bath you certainly need.” She frowned. “If the king knew you have been in this room, he would be most displeased.”
Annie winced. “Do we have to tell him I’ve been in here?”
“Been where?” The corner of Beya’s mouth quirked. “Come. We had best hurry as dinner will be served soon.”
Beya opened the door of the room with a wave of her hand. As she started toward the door, Annie paused and looked over her shoulder at all the things in the room once again. Who knew what treasures the room held? She sighed and shut the door behind her after she walked through the opening.
Light barely made it through the lone window as she followed Beya. Even though it was dimmer than before, the light was enough to guide them the rest of the way down the hallway. They rounded the corner, and once again Annie headed down the hall lit by sconces, only this time with Beya for company.
In the dark, abandoned hallway, a spirit had accompanied Annie. Her skin prickled with goose bumps again and she rubbed her arms with both hands. A spirit. That was nuts. But Annie was practical and not prone to such vivid feelings or voices in her head.
Unless she’d suddenly flipped and was in an institution somewhere, heavily medicated.
That actually made more sense than being pulled through a painting into another world.
Still, Annie believed this wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. It was real.
~~*~~
Karn scowled as he paced the length of the hallway outside the dining room. Where was Annie? One thing he disliked was tardiness.
She rounded the corner and at the mere site of Annie, he forgot his displeasure. She was a vision of loveliness in the short, filmy black dress that accentuated the curves he’d had the pleasure of caressing—and spanking. Her ass had been such a lovely shade of pink earlier this day.
His cock stiffened behind his leather breeches and he clenched his jaw, attempting to will away his erection.
She looked nervous and shy, which only appealed to him more. He ached to touch her, to kiss away the anxious expression on her beautiful face.
A sharp pain shot through his gut as he realized he was already allowing himself to get too close to her. She was to be his queen and his mate, but he would never love her. His heart was too cold and damaged.
His voice was far gruffer than he intended as he said, “You are late.”
Annie bit her lower lip before straightening in a clear attempt to look brave. “I’m sorry, Sire. I lost track of time.”
He grunted and nodded to the entrance to the dining room. She entered and he followed. She reached the seat he gestured to, and then he pulled it out and seated her before taking his own chair at the head of the table.
Annie’s heart beat a little faster as she looked at Karn and met his gaze. He was so intense, like no one she had ever met. His eyes drew her in and she liked the deep vibrant sound of his voice, his unusual accent, and even the scars on his powerful chest.
She looked away and down at the plate and the goblet in front of her. Almost without thinking, she brought her fingers to the collar he’d made her wear. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being a possession. Because that’s what Karn thought she was. He’d made that perfectly clear when he’d said, “You are mine. That is all you need to know.” If that wasn’t a statement of ownership, she didn’t know what was.
The fact that she was confused about her feelings didn’t make sense. Good lord, but she was a woman fifteen years into the new millennium. She had just started working on her PhD, for heaven’s sake.
A woman with a PhD would not wear a collar, a sheer dress like this one, and allow a man to force her to get naked and spank her.
Or would she?
The way Awai had talked about the exchange of power crossed Annie’s mind. Of all things her aunt, a professional businesswoman, was a Dominatrix.
Annie’s mind spun. She had never been so confused in all her life.
Warm fingers touched her chin, and Karn brought her face back to him. “What is wrong?”
The sudden concern in his gaze and his soft words caught her off guard.
“What isn’t wrong?” Everything came out in a rush and she was almost talking as fast as Alexi often did. “You’ve kidnapped me, you won’t tell me where my cousins are, you make me wear almost nothing—” gone was Annie’s soft, slow Southern drawl “—you’ve made me get naked in front of you, you made me wear this collar, and you’ve spanked me.” She swallowed. “And if that isn’t enough, you’ve touched me—”
“In ways no other man has touched you before.” Karn let his fingers drift from her chin to her collar. Her throat worked beneath his fingertips as she swallowed again and her face went hot.
“Yes.” Admitting to that with this man…she wasn’t sure if she should be humiliated or not. She wished she wasn’t so damned inexperienced.
She thought she saw the beginnings of a smile as he let his hand drop away from the collar. If he had been about to smile, it vanished. It was like he purposely shuttered his expression, not wanting her to know what he might be thinking.
Servants entered the dining room, drawing her attention away from Karn. The servants set platters filled with a variety of foods on the dining table. Immediately, the room filled with the scents of roasted meat, warm rolls, and steamed vegetables. She squinted at the colorful things that looked like purple tomatoes and red broccoli.
A servant filled her red goblet with a golden fluid. “Mead, Milady,” the servant said when she tilted her head in question.
Another servant placed a bowl of white, creamy soup in front of Karn and her. She waited until he picked up a spoon and tasted the soup. He looked at her. “Try the soup. It is quite good.”
She did as he told her and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. “It’s amazing.” She’d never tasted anything like it. The closest thing she could come to was clam chowder, only better, and she loved clam chowder. One of her favorite restaurants in San Francisco made the best.
“I have a new favorite soup.” She found herself smiling at Karn. “I can’t even begin to tell what’s in this.”
He shrugged. “Sea creatures, cream, herbs, and other ingredients.”
She didn’t want to ruin the experience by asking what kind of sea creatures, so she ate until she’d polished off the soup.
When she finished, Karn had alread
y set his bowl aside and was loading his plate with meat, the vegetable-like things, and a couple of rolls. He saw that she was finished and filled her plate, too.
“Where did you get the scars on your chest?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He bit into his buttered roll just as she asked the question. For a moment she was concerned he wouldn’t appreciate her question.
For a moment he paused mid-chew, but his expression told her he didn’t mind the question.
Karn thought about Annie’s question as he finished chewing and swallowed. “The scars come from an injury when I was young, just a cub.” He could almost feel the claws of the jaguar that had nearly killed him. “My brothers and I foolishly left the castle in the middle of the night when we should have been in bed.”
Her eyes widened. “That must have been terrifying.”
He shrugged. “It was idiotic.”
“We all make mistakes.” She gave him one of her gentle smiles. “We have to let go of them and live for today.”
He grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing as he drank from his goblet of mead.
“Beya said you have brothers, and they are also kings. Do you have any sisters?” This time Annie’s question brought both pleasure and anger, which simmered in his gut. He chose to keep both feelings to himself. “Can you tell me about them?”
Karn grabbed a roll and buttered it with a knife. “Jarronn is High King as well as the King of Hearts.”
Annie nodded. “Beya told me there are four brothers and four kingdoms—Hearts, Spades, Diamonds, and Clubs. That’s all she told me.”
“My oldest brothers are twins,” Karn said. “Jarronn is but a few hours older than Darronn. Because he was born first, Jarronn is High King.”
“Beya didn’t mention your older brothers are twins.” Annie picked up her roll. “My cousins, Alice and Alexi are twins. Alexi is the oldest by a few minutes.” Annie frowned. “But you know that.” It was clearly a statement, even though he hadn’t told her anything about her cousins.”
Bound by Desire: King of Diamonds (Wonderland Book 3) Page 9