Mated By The Demon Collections: Paranormal Romance

by Riley Moreno

  For a moment she had thought of turning back to help them, desperate to do anything to save them from whatever Eidolon’s malicious intent would bring them. She had even stopped. Ran back until she had been at the edge of a thicket that provided her with some cover, and she had seen him. Towering like a giant over the men and fear had completely filled her. Terror like she had never known in her entire life.

  Desperately, she had tried to draw on her magic, on the power she knew now resided inside her, but she had found nothing. Not even the tiniest spark. Just fear, and more fear, drowning her, crowding out every other thought, annihilating her ability to concentrate. She had pushed and pushed and pushed, trying to reach anything that she might be able to use to save them but had instead found only weakness, and despising herself she had run away like a coward.

  Coward. Weak. Nothing. You are nothing. The thoughts had repeated like a skipping record over and over as she had run, forcing her feet to keep moving, firing her anger at her self above all, even more so than Eidolon. Because he had made her realize just how weak she really was.

  Hazel tripped on a rotting log, falling to her bruised knees and finally the tears came, choking out in heaving sobs that she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. Because she knew now. They had been telling her the truth her whole life. She wasn’t good enough, she would never be good enough. She was weak, so much less than she should be, and now, her own weakness would cost the lives of the two people she loved.

  And somehow it made it that much worse, because as she sat there, her arms wrapped around her knees as desperate sobs racked her body, the realization crystalized in her mind, shattering into a thousand razor sharp shards that cut through her like knifes. She

  loved them.

  Eidolon laughed again and Jayce couldn’t help the grimace that tugged painfully at the cuts on his cheek despite how hard he tried to keep his bloody and swollen face expressionless. He risked a glance over at Nika, who was the one now enjoying the dark spirit’s special type of attention.

  Lashes of dark black fire whipped over his back and shoulders again and again, raising angry red welts, ancient dark symbols embedded in the skin that made the pain so much worse.

  He could withstand any amount of pain and torment knowing that Hazel had escaped, and he prayed to all the gods that he knew that she would make it out of the forest and back home safe and alive. He didn’t have the same hopes for himself and Nika, although he would do everything he could to try and save his brother in arms, closer even than a brother.

  Jayce glanced over at him again, seeing in his mind a bright violet thread pulsing in his mind, similar he was sure to the one in his own although he couldn’t see it in himself. A rudimentary plan was already forming in is mind, a way to distract Eidolon long enough for Nika to make a run for it.

  No way.

  The thought was shot back at him, echoing through his mind loud and clear and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the strength and love in the other man’s voice.

  “What, do you find this as funny as I do, dragon?” Eidolon spit the words through dripping teeth and they hissed over him, carrying with them a sense of dread that was almost impossible to resist.

  “No, but you know what is funny?” Jayce taunted, and he could see his own death reflected in Eidolon’s eyes as he drew near. He cast a glance at Nika through the corner of his eyes, sending the thought to run at the same time but the other man still just resolutely shook his head slightly, but enough for Jayce to see that he wouldn’t abandon him.

  “Well,” Eidolon growled, “What is the joke, funny one?”

  Jayce thought for a moment, the pensive look out of place amongst the myriad of wounds, slashes, and bruises already making his left eye swell shut. He grinned again as he felt the pull again, starting as a tingle in the pit of his stomach and running up his spine. He had timed it right, he thought in relief. He had hoped Hazel would run, as far and as fast as her legs could take her and minutes before he had felt the telltale singe that had occurred the last time the shift had been forced.

  “Come closer and I’ll tell you.” Jayce whispered, barely intelligible.

  “What was that, dragon? Oh, is something wrong with your throat?” Eidolon asked, maliciously digging into the bloody gash that had landed right across his throat. A little deeper and it would have slit right across his jugular. But the dark spirit did in fact lean closer and Jayce could barely keep the hard glee out of his eyes.

  The pull was so much more intense this time and he fought it for as long as he could, pleading once more with Nika even though he knew it was useless. He would do the same thing if their roles were reversed.

  “We will beat you.” Jayce finally growled through teeth gritted at the effort to hold back the change until just the right moment.

  “Oh, little dragon, that is very funny.” A peal of laughter shot out from Eidolon’s blood soaked mouth like nauseous gas rising from a cesspit, turning his stomach but at the same time he was celebrating. Nika made a noise like a groan and the dark spirit looked away for a single moment, distracted, his guard down, and that’s when Jayce let go, leaping forward to strike at the same time.

  Chapter 21

  Hazel sniffed again, swiping grimy hands across swollen eyes as she stared out into the forest. She couldn’t go any further. Her feet and lungs had rested enough that she could have, physically, kept running, but she had reached this spot and felt a tug from deep inside, a lurching feeling that had her halting right where she stood and she couldn’t force herself to move another single step.

  Something was wrong. So, so terribly wrong. She couldn’t go back, she couldn’t go forward. Hazel had closed her eyes, sending a desperate prayer up to the goddess to help her, to save her, to save Nika and Jayce. But the goddess hadn’t answered so there Hazel had stood, her feet rooted into the ground like the ancient pine trees surrounding her.

  Finally, she gave in. Completely, utterly, giving up the struggle and she collapsed to the mossy green forest floor as everything went out of her in a rush, exhaling every bit of struggle into the air around her. She was finally broken.

  There were no more tears to cry, no more screams or tantrums, only the cold harsh reality looming in front of her. She was a coward, she was weak, there was nothing she could do.

  That’s not true, a small voice whispered through the shattered wasteland of her mind. Hazel sat up, searching for that voice. What? What can I do?

  You can go to them. You can be with them. You don’t have to win, you just have to fight.

  The startling thought echoed through her, over and over, gaining strength with every repetition, giving her strength. The strength that she needed to crawl back up to her feet and send them back the way they had come with out even quite realizing what she was doing at first.

  But that tiny, quiet voice had struck a chord in her because the fact was, she knew she would never be able to live with herself if she sat back and did nothing. Hazel knew she wasn’t strong, and that was okay. She knew she was afraid, and that was okay too. Because she wasn’t going to let that dictate her actions, dictate the way she lived her life. Or how she died, either. Another, far more cynical voice chimed in.

  With every step back towards them, something miraculous happened. Too small to notice at first, but growing stronger and stronger, louder until it was buzzing inside her. For the first time, she felt like she could breath, like her heart belonged to her again, and a sort of peace settled thick and heavy like a blanket on a cold winter’s night over her.

  This was the right thing to do. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was doing exactly the right thing.

  Eidolon didn’t see her at first, he was too busy gloating over the chained and bound creatures writhing in pain on the ground. The glade was large, but the dragons dwarfed the space, but somehow not the dark spirit. Her heart shattered into a million pieces as she saw them, all of their wounds and covered in blood.<
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  And then a fury rose inside her. A fury so strong that nothing could stand in its way. Not fear. Not doubts. Certainly not some bully. She almost laughed at the thought of calling the powerful dark spirit a bully, but it was true. With the fury came something else. Calm. Utter calm. Because she knew whatever happened next, she really wasn’t a coward and that was all the strength she needed.

  Something cracked inside of her and she froze for a second, still yards away from the unaware Eidolon. A door had opened, or been smashed to smithereens and suddenly, it was like she was covered in warm sunshine, blissful peace. And then the power flooded her, more than she had ever felt before, and with it came a sense of surety. This was where she was meant to be, this moment had been waiting for her her whole life.

  It felt like hours passed but it must have only been mere seconds. She took another step forward and then another. She felt as heavy as a moment, and as buoyant as air itself, as if the entire earth was reaching out to greet her, to welcome her.

  Hazel watched in slow motion as the dark being turned towards her, sensing the influx of massive energy in the atmosphere around them. With a snarl he lunged not at her, but at the one thing he never should have. The men that she loved. He didn’t stand a chance.

  With a howl like an avenging storm Hazel shot out both hands, aiming right at the place the creature’s heart would be if he’d possessed one. His movements were slow and clumsy, and she was like the breeze itself, dancing around him. He had time to shoot just one bar of black flame at her, and she was blinded for a moment, looking away.

  There was a moment of shock as she saw the sun just dipping down below the horizon, dusk falling like a colorful gossamer fabric around them. Eidolon’s shriek of rage drew her attention back. As she stood there, she drew on every moment of fear, every ounce of pain and terror he had caused her and with a scream of her own pushed out a wave of bright violet light, so bright it was almost white but she could see herself in it. All of the things that made her, her.

  She watched Eidolon’s gaze widen in shock, and there it was…fear of his own. With one more massive effort she flung the light straight at him, watching as he exploded into a burst of tiny black flecks, and then the flecks themselves carried away on the breeze. As if he had never been at all.

  Except the evidence of him was still right in front of her. With a cry, she ran to them. A flick of the wrist later and the chains cam unbound, falling noisily to the ground. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she realized that they were both motionless, and then it hit her. The harvest moon. It was tonight!

  Drenched with panic she turned to the sky, watching in horror as the big orange orb rose ever higher. She cursed at it, pleaded with it, but still, they didn’t move. Beyond distraught, she threw herself in between them, half on both of their large forms, sobbing into their scales as her heart was ripped from her chest. Desperate, she pushed every one of magic she had into them, trying to bring them back.

  Suddenly, there was a jolt underneath her and she hastily pulled back, staring down at their forms as they began to shift right in front of her. In the blink of an eye there were two, perfectly formed men where the dragons had been, and she shrieked in relief as Jayce slowly blinked open his beautiful golden eyes.

  “You’re alive!” She laughed, still crying the entire time, “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

  “Of course we are,” Nika said raspily, “We have our very own witch to look out for us.” Hazel threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and then immediately jumping back as she remembered his wounds.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, you’re…” she paused, staring at his perfect, unmarred chest.

  “You healed us, Hazel. With your magic.”

  “You did so much more than that, more than you even realize.”

  “But I don’t understand,” She said, shaking her head in confusion. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Jayce snorted a laugh, “Only you would slay one of the most powerful dark spirits and say she didn’t do anything.”

  Hazel just shrugged, silent while he continued. “Last night.” It was his turn to wait but she shook her head, still not understanding.

  “Last night, when we were all together, your magic flooded over us, all of us, linking us together. You cast a spell that night. That is what saved us.” Nika explained, staring at her in wonder.

  “That wasn’t a spell,” Hazel scoffed, “I just…I just loved you, that’s all.” She finished bashfully, but then her chin firmed as she looked up at them, both of them. “I love you. It took me a while to realize it, but I do, and I hope you…” She stopped, gasping, staring at them wide eyed.

  “I can see it. I can see it in your minds, like a bright violet light.”

  Jayce smiled softly, “We can see it too. We are connected somehow. Forever connected. Forever in my heart.”

  “And in mine.” Nika said, taking her hand in his while Jayce took the other. Hazel didn’t even try and fight the flood of tears as they washed over her, it was no use.

  I hate it when she cries.

  The sudden thought flooded her brain and she jerked back in chock. “I heard that. And lucky for you, I don’t cry that often, it’s just been a difficult past few weeks.”

  Jayce and Nika stared at her open mouthed for a long moment before bursting into laughter. It was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.

  I love you.

  I love you, little witch.

  I love you both. Hey, who are you calling little?

  The End

  The Other Highland Laird

  Highland Romance

  By Riley Moreno

  CHAPTER I

  Marion examined her reflection in the mirror and adjusted her gown of crimson and turquoise velvet edged with gold, while her maid fitted a caul of gold net on her hair with a gorget that revealed the delicate contours of her throat. The broad sleeves of her dress hung down to below her wrists and the maid arranged them, even as she slipped a bracelet onto her mistress’s wrist and clipped a turquoise necklace around her throat.

  ‘Do I look presentable, Netty?’ Marion asked, appearing to pose the question to her reflection in the mirror rather than to the maid. The maid smiled. ‘You look more than presentable, my lady,’ she replied softly and stepped back to admire her handiwork.

  Marion slid her small, slim feet into a delicate pair of leather shoes and then glanced at her reflection again.

  ‘You seem anxious, my lady,’ Netty observed.

  ‘I feel like a colony of butterflies has taken wing in my belly,’ Marion replied, her hands on her slender waist. ‘Coming here to Scotland has been such an adventure, because of my roots…and now, attending a wedding at Bothwell Castle!’ Marion sighed ecstatically.

  ‘I have heard it is a very fine castle indeed, my lady.’ The maid looked away, afraid of what her eyes may betray – that Marion’s mother had emphasized several times that she must ensure her daughter looked her best because she was to be presented to one Lord Robert Murray. A quick engagement followed by a not too hastily arranged wedding was what Marion’s mama had in mind for her daughter, and rapid relocation to France where Lord Robert had taken up residence to escape the rigors of life in the Highlands in the wake of the third English Civil War.

  ‘I rather fancy meeting a Scotsman,’ Marion said, stealing a look at her maid, ‘so if that’s what mama has in mind for me, then I hope you’ve followed her instructions and done your best with my appearance, Netty.’

  Netty started and threw Marion a guilty look. ‘How did you know, my lady?’

  ‘I know my mama well, and I also have a keen ear,’ Marion smiled. ‘It’s alright, I am going to be twenty soon and I’m sure mama and papa are concerned that I will be left on the shelf if they don’t do something about getting me off their hands.’ Marion sighed, ‘Marrying a Scotsman and staying here would be really romantic! I do wonder what Lord Robert Murray is like. That is who mama and papa have in mind for me, is
n’t it? I’ve heard his name mentioned often enough.’

  Netty fussed around Marion’s gown, though she had arranged and rearranged it several times already.

  ‘Out with it, Netty!’ Marion said, ‘You know something else and you’ve doubtless been told not to let me know.’

  Netty blushed a vivid red. ‘Oh no, my lady. But yes, it is Lord Robert Murray whose name I have heard being mentioned.’

  Marion turned to look more closely at her maid, but she could hear her mother summoning her in a stentorian tone. ‘You must tell me if you know anything else, Netty,’ Marion said, as Netty assisted her out of the room.

  Bothwell Castle was bathed in the delicate hues of a magnificent Scottish sunset and Marion felt a cloak of enchantment settle about her as she stepped out of the carriage that had transported her and her parents to their destination. They made their way to the chapel in the Castle grounds, where the nuptials of Lord Robert’s brother William were taking place. The Bride’s arrival being suitably delayed, the members of the Murray family were basking in the sun outside the Chapel as Marion arrived with her mama and papa.

  ‘Lord Buchane!’ an elderly gentleman exclaimed, walking up to the carriage.

  ‘My dear Lord Murray!’ Marion’s father replied, greeting their host, ‘I am delighted to be here on such a fine occasion!’

  Lord Murray bowed as Marion’s mother alighted from the carriage with Marion following suit. Lord Buchane swiftly performed the introductions and Lord Murray turned around to call forth, one after the other, the members of his family to be introduced. William, the bridegroom, looked nervous as he awaited the arrival of his bride. Marion gave him a cursory glance and turned her attention to the next in line - Robert. Marion’s mama held her breath as Robert and Marion greeted each other. Robert was rather handsome, Marion thought, but looked disappointingly more English than Scots, dressed as he was in a jacket and trews.