Juven tripped over herself in her hurry to get out of the throne room.
Feyr climbed the dais steps and resumed his place at Malik’s side. He growled when Malik patted his head.
“There will be other times, Feyr,” Malik whispered. His words were meant for Travers. The man would know true pain if he brought false hope. Malik’s bride wasn’t a subject to be mentioned lightly or joked about.
Malik straightened his clothing and sat down. The rage he’d displayed only moments before disappeared like the small piece of lint he flicked from his shoulder. The pain and damage of Juven’s bite healed without Malik having to concentrate on it. Such magick was as involuntary as his heartbeat, and happened when needed.
“Well, High Chancellor, why is she not here? I wanted her brought to me, not news of her,” Malik said.
“She is located on an alternate Bron, Majesty. The parallel dimension caused the delay of the blood spell—or that is my guess. Only you are strong enough to handle an interdimensional portal.”
Malik took the compliment even though he wasn’t sure he could handle a portal that bridged dimensions. He’d never tried before.
For his bride, he would make it work.
“Show her to me.”
Travers nodded. He spread his hands away from the orb, which started floating and expanding.
“What is this?” Malik roared.
The orb showed two black-clad men with a bound-and-gagged woman—his intended bride, he assumed—held between them. The larger of the two men used a knife to cut the woman’s clothes away.
Malik snapped his clawed hand towards Travers. The other man grabbed his neck and gasped for air. Malik hissed, “If this is your idea of a joke, High Chancellor—” Rage choked his words when one of the men manhandled the woman’s bare breast. The woman’s muffled cry and Travers’s yelp of pain mingled with each other.
“You’re hurting him.”
“I want to hurt him,” Malik growled.
“No, you want to hurt them. I suggest you hurry up before they get much further.”
Malik made an angered noise before flinging his hand outward. The motion sent Travers careening into the throne room doors. The sound of the man’s pain as he hit didn’t alleviate Malik’s mood. He looked at the two men in the orb.
“She is your bride,” Travers croaked. He tried to stand with the help of the wall but ended up in a heap on the floor.
“Get out.”
Travers nodded and crawled out of the room. The doors closed after him.
Feyr leapt from the throne dais, landing in front of the orb. He glanced back at Malik with a questioning look.
Malik said, “You are not coming, Feyr. This is between me—” a sword appeared in his hand and he pointed it at the assailants, “—and them.”
He pushed his power through the sword. It hit the image with a loud crack. Instant, cold fear hit Malik mere moments after the interdimensional portal formed. His breath fogged.
This was his bride’s fear. He could feel her emotions, which proved her identity. And the feeling of it added to his overwhelming need to see the blood of both men smeared on his sword.
The larger of the two assailants had his back to the portal. The man’s companion, who faced the portal, would be able to see Malik—and his own imminent death—if his attention weren’t so focused on the woman.
Their mistake.
Malik hurtled his sword like a spear towards the bigger man’s back. He leapt from his throne and followed the sword’s path. The time had come to claim what was his.
Chapter Two
Greg knelt between Adrienne’s legs. His pants were unzipped and he had a leer on his face. Behind her head, Josh snapped picture after picture.
Adrienne wanted to twist away from Greg but he held her knees in a painful grip. Her hands were stretched over her head so the handcuffs could pass around the leg of a cast-iron bench.
Josh had decided to handcuff her to the bench so his hands would be free to work the camera. Adrienne didn’t understand why no one saw the flashes and came to investigate. Where was the night security guard?
Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut about the paper?
She should have let her father come and get her.
She squeezed her eyes shut in hopes of blocking out everything. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.
“Get ready, bitch,” warned Greg.
He grunted.
It took a moment for Adrienne to realize nothing was happening. In fact, Greg had let her go.
She knew it!
It was a prank. A stupid, elaborate joke, but a joke nonetheless. She would open her eyes and Greg and Josh would be gone, leaving her to try to figure out how to get out of the handcuffs.
Something hit the ground near her head. She opened her eyes.
Josh stood with his hands grasping air since he had dropped his camera. His attention wasn’t on her any longer, but on Greg.
Adrienne looked at Greg. The sock in her mouth muffled her screams, but that didn’t stop her from doing it.
Moonlight filtered through the treetops and glinted off a sword that protruded from Greg’s stomach. He had released her legs so he could grip the blade.
She kicked at him to get him away from her. When that didn’t work, she twisted her hands, grabbed the handcuffs and pulled herself closer to the bench. Her eyes never left Greg.
Movement in her peripheral vision made Adrienne look at Josh. He took two steps back, then turned and ran. She tried to call after him. He was leaving her. A sword-toting maniac had appeared and Josh left her chained to a bench.
He didn’t get far. The sword was ripped from Greg’s body and sent spinning after Josh. The blade whistled as it cut the air. The spin of the blade caused Josh’s head to come sailing back towards Adrienne when the sword separated it from his neck. It landed a mere inch from her leg.
There were two faint thuds. Adrienne looked up to see the sword had gotten stuck in a tree and Josh’s body had collapsed. She looked at Greg.
Blood gushed from his wound. He would be dead soon, as well. Adrienne didn’t want to be next.
She struggled against the handcuffs. Ignoring the pain in favor of saving her life, she leaned back and shoved with her foot at the same time. There was no way Josh had gotten real handcuffs. She hoped they were novelty cuffs and would break.
The handcuffs didn’t give. She would wonder how Josh got real handcuffs later. For now, she had to get free.
It was time for a different tactic.
The benches weren’t bolted down, so she should be able to tilt it enough to free herself. She braced her shoulder under the bench and pushed. The bench scraped as it slid backwards but didn’t lift. She tried again.
More scraping.
Frustrated tears flowed down her face.
The sound of a twig snapping wrenched a startled cry from Adrienne. She forced herself to turn and look at the killer. He looked strong enough to cause her severe damage without the use of his sword.
She shied away from him when he stopped in front of her. He reached out to her and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Malik lowered to his haunches in front of his bride. With a thought, he ended the shielding spell he’d erected around her before his attack started. Little droplets of the assailants’ blood fell to the ground—blood he hadn’t wanted to taint his bride’s skin.
The suffocating chill of her fear continued, enveloping his body. He had caused that fear. Killing the two men while she watched showed poor judgment on his part. He would make it up to her at a later date. His priority was her freedom.
Once she saw that he meant her no harm, she would stop being scared of him. And he could regain a measure of his original warmth. Malik remembered his father telling him that he would feel his mate’s emotions and she would feel his. He hadn’t known this was what his father meant.
He reached out with the intention of removing her gag. Instead he brushed his fingers across h
er cheek. She flinched away from him.
Her reaction made him focus. There would be time to get to know her feel later.
He removed her gag, then cupped her bound hands in both of his. She tried to pull away but he held her.
“Don’t hurt me,” she rasped.
“I do not plan to, my lady,” Malik soothed in a low, soft voice. Her language, while remarkably similar to Otieno’s, felt cumbersome in his mouth. He wanted to use his own but decided the magicks needed to bridge the communication gap could be better used elsewhere.
With a single thought, he melted her chains. His bride’s earlier struggles had torn the skin around her wrists. Blood seeped from her wounds and coated her hands.
It was simple enough to heal her the way he had melted her chains, but Malik couldn’t help but make the act more intimate. He brought her wrists to his lips and breathed the healing magicks over her skin.
His bride opened her eyes and watched him. He smiled at her. She looked confused.
Correction, she was confused. The emotion felt like itself instead of a temperature. Malik knew he wasn’t confused, so the emotion belonged to her.
The chill of her fear started ebbing away. He took that as a good sign. With slow movements, he rose to his feet and pulled his bride to stand next to him.
She snatched her hands from him and rubbed her wrists. The feeling of her confusion intensified. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him.
“What?”
“I am Malik of Ulan, my lady. Your servant,” he said with a bow.
“My… Huh?”
“And your name?”
“Ad…Adrienne. Adrienne Backett.”
Malik told himself to stop staring at her so intently. The feel of her fear had returned and she looked ready to run. He reached for her hand to hold her at his side.
“I should go home now,” she said with a tug of her hand.
“Would you leave in such a state of disarray?”
Adrienne looked down at herself and gave a cry of shock. She snatched her hand away from his and pulled her shredded shirt together over her naked breasts.
Malik swept out his hand. A cloak appeared out of nowhere and he placed it over Adrienne’s shoulders. He brought the ends of it together in front of her. She grabbed the edges of the cloak with a murmured thank you.
He smiled at her bowed head. “Such as this is my pleasure, my lady, as I would do anything to make you happy.” He stepped closer to her, which forced her to look up at him. He asked softly, “Shall we return?”
“Return? Yes, I need to go home. My parents will be worried. If you tell me your address, I’ll mail this cloak back to you.”
“You misunderstand.” His voice remained low and soothing. “I meant my home.” He slid his hand around her waist and pulled her close. The action indulged his baser needs. He recognized the lust he felt. What he didn’t understand was his urgency.
Even when he was new to sex he had never felt this anxious to be with a woman. Something about Adrienne made him want to forget all the rules and have her now.
“Let go of me. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Malik bent to place his other hand under her legs and lifted her effortlessly against his chest.
“I’ll scream.”
“You could, as it is your right. I do not see the merit in it and think you would be better served with rest rather than theatrics.”
“I’m not…I…” Her words stumbled to a halt as sleep claimed her.
He smiled at his sweet burden. She would understand once he explained the entire situation to her. He laid a feather-light kiss on her temple before starting back the way he had come.
His fingers brushed over the hilt of his discarded sword when he passed it. The sword faded and disappeared. It would return when Malik needed it.
“Freeze!”
Malik looked back at the man who pointed a light, and what seemed to be a weapon, in his direction. It wasn’t every day someone dared command him to do anything—or threatened him. The sheer novelty of it made him obey.
“Okay, buddy, put the girl down nice and slow and back away.”
“Are you the guardian of this place?”
“Yeah. I’m the ‘guardian’, buddy,” agreed the security guard in a humoring tone. He pointed the flashlight at Adrienne. “I want you to put the girl down.”
“No. I would not leave her to such an incompetent guardian. Your aid has come too late, as I have done your job for you,” Malik said. He moved his gaze to the two bodies the guard had overlooked.
The guard glanced quickly in the direction Malik looked. “Holy Jesus,” he yelled.
“I leave the rest to you, then, guardian. You shall leave the girl to me.” Malik walked back to the portal. The guard yelled for him to come back, but the novelty had worn off so Malik ignored the man.
The guard ran to catch up. He would be too late.
Malik closed the portal after himself.
A soft sigh from Adrienne made Malik pause and look down at her. For the first time in a long time, Malik felt the burden of his rage alleviating. He had his bride. Everything else would fall into place from this moment forth.
Chapter Three
“Ah, you are awake. I shall inform His Majesty immediately,” said a woman from Adrienne’s right.
Adrienne, who had started her usual pre-wake ritual of stretching just to turn over and go back to sleep, opened her eyes to see who had spoken.
Her gaze never made it to the owner of the voice. The unfamiliar ceiling caught her attention. It was painted to resemble the sky on a sunny day. There were wisps of clouds and a flock of birds flying by.
Flying by?
She immediately closed her eyes. This had to be a dream. She would open her eyes and be at home in her own room. The sound of a door as it opened and closed made Adrienne open her eyes again.
The scene hadn’t changed. The sky was still the sky and it remained on the ceiling. The clouds moved and so did the birds, who were almost out of sight. Maybe the ceiling was see-through? That made a little more sense.
This wasn’t her room.
Afraid to move, Adrienne let her gaze track from the ceiling down to the far wall.
The room was big—more like huge. The far wall sported a tapestry with an image she could barely make out. It looked like an intricate knot design.
Her attention strayed from the tapestry to the rest of her surroundings. The bed she occupied seemed to be it.
Like the room, the bed was huge. Her toes made a tent in the covers that marked the halfway point before the edge. She turned her head and saw the foot of the bed wasn’t the only thing far away. This bed was a king times three—maybe four.
Who needed a bed this big? Paul Bunyan?
Adrienne finally worked up the nerve and sat up. She was wrong; other furniture did adorn the room. Several tall vases stood like sentries on either side of each of the large windows. The largest window—it reached from the floor to the ceiling above—had a table situated in front of it. The table looked big enough to seat four but only had two backless chairs.
Where was she?
Looking around hadn’t answered that question. The woman who had spoken earlier had left to retrieve whoever this “majesty” person was, so Adrienne couldn’t ask her. Had royalty picked her up after her attack?
Her attack!
She looked down at her wrists. The evidence of her struggle against the handcuffs was gone—no scratches, no bruises, not even a little soreness. She ran her hands over her wrists anyway, just to be sure. Nothing hurt.
Then she remembered the man. He said his name was Merrick. No, Malik. He had done something to her wrists. But what? She also remembered trying to get away from Malik but falling asleep instead. Had he taken her somewhere while she slept? The obvious answer was yes, he had. But where and for what purpose?
She looked back at the bed, which made her notice her attire.
Someone had tak
en off her ruined blouse and skirt and replaced them with a sheer nightgown. She could take it off and wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Whoever had put it on her had a sick sense of humor.
A knock at the bedroom door made Adrienne gasp and grab the blanket to her chin. The person on the other side of the door took that to mean come in, since they pushed the door open and entered.
“Good morning, my lady,” said Malik with a smile. “I trust you slept comfortably?”
She nodded dumbly, not sure what to say to the man’s obvious good cheer. A million things were appropriate at this moment. Where am I? How did I get here? How long do you plan to keep me? Can I get some real clothes?
None of her questions would leave her mouth.
Her inability to speak could be traced to the man in front of her. Had Malik looked this good last night? He was Asian; his slanted eyes and black hair made that obvious. But his aquamarine eyes and towering height said more than Asian made up his ancestry. She had only come up to his collarbone when she stood next to him the night before.
Malik wore close-fitting dark pants that showed off his muscled legs, and a loose, white button-up shirt covered by a floor-length black vest.
“Shall I fetch breakfast, Majesty?” the woman behind Malik asked.
The voice belonged to the woman who had spoken earlier. She had slanted, dark eyes and delicate features that reminded Adrienne of the older Asian lady who ran the sushi restaurant near the campus. Her black hair was braided and wrapped around her head like a crown, which gave her a regal air that suited her.
Belatedly, Adrienne wondered if this woman had dressed her. Adrienne may not know Malik very well—or at all—but she would bet he suggested the sheer nightgown. Either way, someone would get a piece of her mind.
“Take your time. My lady and I have many topics to discuss,” Malik said.
The woman curtsied and left the room. She pulled the door firmly closed behind her.
The sound of the door closing made Adrienne jump. She watched Malik, ready to run in case he tried something funny. Even if he had saved her virtue—and she was thankful for that—he might be dangerous. If need be, she could use the blanket’s edge to strangle him in case he had changed his mind about killing her.
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