by Stacy Reid
Drac understood Gidon’s caution and respected it. A team of even four of their kind would likely incite war.
Drac would remain at the castle for the night, and then he would depart with the dawn to complete his mission of finding King Rajliegh’s assassin, thankfully away from the temptation of the princess.
Take her….
Want and need hummed beneath his skin. His beast rumbled in satisfaction, and Drac frowned. It had never been satisfied before with anything other than negative emotions, the darker the better. He doubted he could remain in her presence and not touch her. He had already imagined her several times, with her hair fisted in his hand, her lips under his and seated on his cock, crying out in agonized bliss as he sank his aching length inside of her. He wanted to taste her, to inhale her scent and trap her fragrance inside of him while he rode her for hours. His reaction to her was unwelcomed, and he’d believed himself to hold more control over his lust. The inherent danger in wanting a woman like her, a fragile woman did not escape him. His brother Vlad had succumbed to such a lure in the past, and the pain of his decision still haunted Drac years later.
Taunting laughter echoed within him from his beast, and Drac growled low in his throat.
If he was not vigilant, his unexpected desire for her could ruin everything he and his king had tirelessly worked for…and maybe even the loss of his honor and soul.
Chapter Five
Southern wing of castle Kerberos.
Saieke woke with a heated pulse of need deep in her body. She had dreamt of the Darkan…of his lips kissing the curves of her body, down to her most intimate valley…and now she was wet and aching. Gritting her teeth, she flashed from the bed, thankful the fireplace and great torches still burned in the chamber. She performed her morning toiletries with grim efficiency, dressing in a caftan of deep gold, designed with folds for sheathed blades. Her hair plaited and coiled around her head, she slipped her feet in soft and elegant shoes designed for comfort and flight. Very practical and nothing like the elegant jewel stubbed shoes she wore at her court. The ladies in waiting assigned to her, presented her with a pair of daggers crafted with beauty and cutting strength. Each blade, twelve inches long, curved wickedly with a single ruby embedded in their hilts—they were stunning.
“A gift from King Gidon.” Her lady in waiting lifted the blades to Saieke on silver cushions with a deep curtsy.
She measured their weight with infinite care. They were exquisite, a gift fit for a princess. The generosity of the king surprised her, and she felt sudden guilt as she had not expected his kindness. It was the custom of every kingdom to present visiting royalty with gifts, yet she kept expecting the Darkage to behave without decorum. “I will thank the king most appropriately. They are well crafted and beautiful.”
Warmth glowed from the servant. “Our king commands your presence in the fifth courtyard. You will break your fast there.”
He commanded her presence? “It would be by pleasure to break my fast with the king.” Would Drac be present?
Armed with her gifts, she followed three warriors down corridors of immense length broken at intervals by winding stairs that ended at the main hall. Her assigned guards opened the door that led to the courtyard, and Saieke stepped into an abyss. Unrelenting darkness washed over her senses. Her mind struggled to process the void that seemed to press in, suffocating her. She expended her chakra, coating herself in its blue glow. It was just enough for her to see a few feet. The warriors prowled ahead, and she followed for a few minutes, but jerked to a startled halt as they disappeared.
Her pulse spiked. She flared out her energy seeking chakras and found none. Saieke spun in a circle, probing the dark. Her chakra glow allowed her to see only so far; the terrifying darkness pressed in from all sides, and her disorientation increased. The implication of the warriors’ actions seeped in her veins. Dread tightened her throat. They had deliberately led her outside. Was the king even waiting in the courtyard?
She went still, her neck prickling in sharp awareness. Something stalked her. She could feel it shifting closer, the energy trail was so faint it was almost indiscernible. Saieke balanced herself on her feet and crept forward, then stopped as the feel of the chakra moved and appeared behind her. Her heart rate increased as it dawned that her stalker intended harm, not to simply frighten her.
“Is someone there?” Her voice sounded too hoarse to her ears, roughened by fear.
Please let this be a dream. She waited a few beats, no one answered her, but a pulse of emotion from the person’s chakra slid against her senses—undiluted anger and bitterness. Saieke harnessed a rush of wind to form a barrier as the emotions shifted to deadly intent. The wind churned in violent swirls, so lethal anyone who attacked her would be sliced by the sharpness.
A low vicious growl echoed around her, and the Darkan dropped the shield that kept its chakra contained. Vile, twisted rage tunneled toward her. Enveloped in her chakra light, she saw the Darkan punch through her barrier. Her wind sliced his hands, but he still delivered a devastating blow to her sternum.
The force of the blow flung her more than three hundred feet. She gathered wind and tried to cushion her fall, but the impact of the landing still rattled her teeth.
Before she could recover, a hand grasped her throat and lifted her off the ground.
“You dare present yourself in our kingdom after how Boreas treated our queen?” snarled the voice. “You dare when it was your kingdom’s action that caused our queen’s death?”
Saieke saw his face clearly, the fury reflected more than she could process.
His fingers tightened as razor sharp canines extended from his mouth. She flared out her power, searching for her elements and felt water close by. Relief surged through her. Drawing the water to her in a rush, she enveloped them both, shaping the water with her mind, and held it suspended above and around them. Saieke combined her elements to encase the hand at her throat in ice so cold it shattered.
She dropped, wheezing for air. Sensing another attack, she flashed to her feet and tried to freeze his entire body, but the darkness swallowed him too fast for her to track. There was no respite as another blow slammed into her back. Pain lanced through her shoulders. She tried to draw her weapons and realized her left arm dangled uselessly at her side.
She screamed as a swipe at her stomach opened deep furrows inside, spilling warm blood at her feet. Horror tightened Saieke’s throat. They toyed with her, savoring her fear and feeding on her pain. She molded the water to her body and let it rise in the air with her swiftly, like a wave, but cradling her pain-filled body.
In mid-flight, a hand grabbed her ankle and flung her with enraged strength, causing Saieke to moan helplessly at the speed she flew through the air. She slammed into a tree with such force her dislocated shoulder wrenched, breaking bones in several places. A cry of anguish escaped her lips. It twisted through her body as a foot stomped on her leg, shattering bones and her hope of escape. Fear like she had never known engulfed her as three Darkans looked down at her with icy contempt in their expressions.
***
Drac sprawled indolently in the war chamber. Lachlan and Talon, the king’s enforcers, had been in the chambers for more than an hour discussing the possibilities of treaties with Boreas with their king. Drac curled his lips in disdain as restlessness stirred deep inside him. He needed to be away from the castle. He’d spent the night thinking about the flame-haired, intensely blue-eyed princess. He ruthlessly forced her from his mind and drifted back to the discussions in the king’s chamber.
“Court whispers refer to the Princess of Boreas as a treasure the nation would die to protect,” Lachlan said from where he leaned against the stained windows looking out in the west courtyard, his demeanor and expression showing nothing but serenity as was his way. He turned gracefully, and tawny golden eyes surveyed them. “We could use that to our advantage.”
Lachlan raised his brow. “We did save their progeny from death or worse. Boreas will be extremely grateful. We should examine how to manipulate their gratefulness.”
Gidon paced for several minutes before addressing Lachlan, “What gifts have you gathered that is suitable for the Borean king and queen?”
“There are a few that we can give. We are short on jewels.”
“We could gift them the use of one hundred warriors for a few years,” Talon said.
“No,” Gidon said. “What we need is for Boreas to be in our debt, where if we ever need more elixir, their waters, healers, or their ample grains, they would respond favorable to a petition. I want to achieve this without fear.”
“Mayhap fear is necessary,” Drac murmured. “We do not have enough wealth or positions of rank which can be traced from millennia for a possible alliance. The ranks our elders hold are not such that any other kingdom would recognize. They hold them for their skill and might, not from noble blood and wealth—”
His cadre lifted their heads in unison, tasting the decadent tendrils of fear wafting through the chamber. They inhaled, feeding their beasts. Drac got up and poured wine in his chalice, drinking deeply. Pain sweet as nectar barreled into the room. He froze in the act of drinking. What was it?
The predator in him stirred at the unique scent accompanying the pain. A darker wave of fear rushed out to them in torrents, and satisfaction stamped the faces of his fellow enforcers. Drac’s beast recoiled from the overwhelming taste of distress as it identified the unique scent of wild wind that accompanied it. He stumbled and dropped his chalice of wine, fighting the rage twisting in his veins—it was too dark and pervasive.
Gidon looked at him sharply. “Drac, what is wrong?” his king demanded, as Talon said, “Who resides at the castle that would feel such fear?”
Drac’s beast howled and battered at his mind.
Talon and Lachlan launched to their feet as a pulse of rage clawed at Drac, and for the first time in years, he lost control of his chakra and it escaped without his iron will directing it. Charka settled on him like a second skin, fangs exploded from his mouth and a menacing snarl built in his chest.
“What in king’s fuck!” Talon said.
Before they could say anymore, Drac disappeared.
Chapter Six
Drawn by her misery, Drac appeared by the side of the princess within seconds. He fought for restraint as he took in her bloodied, shattered limbs and pale face. Kill, let us devour. The hiss of his beast raked at him, the bitter taste of the princess’s terror fueling the need to kill.
Gidon, Talon and Lachlan had followed him immediately, and the three Darkans that had attacked her were now kneeling before their king.
Kill!
Drac bellowed, slapping a palm to his forehead as splinters of pain stabbed inside his mind. Rage moved beyond his grasp and madness started to haze his vision.
“Drac!” Lachlan bent the shadows to subdue him.
Drac saw Lachlan through distorted vision, and met Lachlan’s attack with a viciousness he had never turned on a friend. He distantly noticed the surprise that flared in Lachlan’s eyes, and then the implacable resolve that filled them.
Blades appeared in his hands, and a growl rumbled from Drac’s throat. He glided around Lachlan with a speed he could not track. Drac grasped Lachlan by the throat, tightening his claws to rip his neck from his body. Pain sliced through Drac’s head as his beast slammed against his barriers, and the psychic leash shifted. Evil pulsed into Drac’s consciousness and bled out into his chakra.
Gidon’s roar of rage echoed in Drac’s mind, and he absorbed the treachery that seeped from his king. He flung Lachlan aside and met his King’s blow with unremitting strength. A foot slammed into Drac’s chest pushing him away. Twin blades appeared in Gidon’s hand, and before he could attack Drac appeared before the three men who were attempting to shiktre.
“No!” Talon shouted.
They attacked, and Drac punched through the chest of the closest man with both hands, tearing out his chest cavity. Crimson blood and body parts spewed in an arch.
“Remove the other warriors from his reach, Talon. Take them to the dungeon,” Gidon ordered.
Red eyes that glowed with bloodlust tracked Talon’s movements as he melted away with the remaining Darkans. Drac gritted his teeth as inky darkness entwined in his mind, their needs melding as one.
Slaughter all that brought her harm.
Drac licked the blood that splattered his face and he accorded with his beast. They must die. He made to pursue Talon, and a garbled whimper of stark fear came from the princess. It captured Drac’s attention like nothing else could, and he shiktred before her. An unbidden desire erupted to devour her essence. The temptation, one he’d never before experienced seduced man and demon. He hauled the princess to her feet, and plunged his fangs deep into her neck.
He heard Gidon’s roar, felt the tremble of the earth and darkness lick at Drac’s skin as evil manifested in the form of Gidon’s Cerja— his tattooed demon, contracted, and a Cerberus launched itself off Gidon’s skin with chakra swirling around it with menace.
A rough chuckle filled with malevolence rumbled from Drac as he absorbed the pitilessness that came from Gidon’s three headed monster. It stood ten feet tall on four legs, fangs bared, eyes the color of pewter, reeking of ferocity and cunning. The three heads snapped, and muscles bunched as he growled and crouched with grace and intent, analyzing the situation.
Kill.
“Gidon, wait!” Lachlan shouted hoarsely. “If your beast attacks he may rip her throat.”
“What the fuck is wrong with him?”
“His eyes reflect a madness we cannot reach.”
“I have never seen Drac in such a state,” Gidon rasped. “But do not suggest that we cannot reach him.”
Gidon’s Cerberus circled around Drac stealthily, looking for a moment of weakness to attack, and Drac kept it in his sight, anticipating the battle.
“His beast chakra has subsided; he is regaining control,” Lachlan said.
“We need to get his fangs out of her.” Gidon’s voice vibrated with rage. “Anything can cause him to rip her throat out.”
“Probably not,” Lachlan said. “It is apparent that it was her fear and pain that caused him to lose control.”
With his fangs buried in the princess’s throat, Drac tracked the movement of the predator that circled them, his cadre voices were to him only a distant drone. His beast slammed at his mind, weakening his psychic shield even further. Drac closed his eyes, uncaring of the danger. He only wanted to immerse himself in her taste. The feel of her soft skin against his lips centered him. He finally sucked, unable to bury the need. Blood, hot and spicy rushed down his throat, more intense and pleasurable than the consumption of negative energy. He groaned, his gut tightened, his beast howled in ecstasy and triumph. Her taste ran over Drac’s lips, and he shuddered at the bliss.
He pulled strongly at Saieke’s neck, a hiss slipping from him as her dread increased. They did not like the metallic taste of her fear, beast and man recoiling from its repulsiveness.
Protect, the sibilant voice hissed and Drac stilled.
No...He growled, hating the very idea.
Mine, another whisper echoed across his soul.
He retracted his fangs from her neck and swiped his tongue across the twin punctures. He ran his tongue over his teeth, savoring the sweet taste of her blood. Gidon’s Cerberus growled as it prepared to launch at him. Before it got a chance he shiktred with her to the castle with the king and the rest of the cadre keeping pace.
; ***
Drac placed the Princess gently on the bed in her chambers. Gidon and Lachlan appeared behind him within seconds, ready if he were to make any sudden move toward her. The very thing he dreaded had sneaked upon him, and he’d have to deal with the consequences. Was this how it had been for his brother when Vlad lost his mate? He’d not willingly give over to his demon, but control had been wrested from him?
“The ones who hurt her?” Drac questioned.
A lengthy silence ensued. He knew the reason lay in the distortion of his voice. Two voices spoke, his and the sibilant hiss of his beast.
“Talon took them to the sheriffs in the castle. They will be placed in the dungeon under guard,” Lachlan responded.
All of Drac’s focus rested on the Princess in the bed. Ours, his beast whispered.
She lay bruised and battered. Blood soaked her caftan, purple splotches marred the perfection of her skin, and her chest rose shallowly. His gaze rested on her neck. He had feasted on her blood, a primitive desire from his beast, and he had acted on it without thought. The punctures were healed over from the venom he swiped with his tongue, but her throat still looked tender and raw.
He did not relish her pain, it was repugnant to him. Why?
You know why. A voice filled with malevolence sang.
Drac wove back the pattern, reinforcing the shield to keep his demon suppressed. And even then he could hear the echoes of cruel laughter in his mind.
“Our healers have been summoned, and they will be here shortly to examine the princess,” Gidon said.
Drac heard the curiosity that underlined the king’s words. He did not respond as he looked at Saieke, willing her to consciousness. What could he say? He had tasted her pain and lost mastery of his self? Like his brother?
His gut twisted in hard knots, and evil brushed against his senses.
Like your brother...relinquish rule to me and I will make you King of Amagarie. Drac ignored the hiss. Though he bonded with his demon and accepted the brutality embedded in him, his beast never let an opportunity pass to try and seduce Drac to let him have free rein to devour.