Dark and Dangerous

by Anwar, Hart, Harte, Mcbride(Lit)

  Violet had a kind heart, always helping her Seraglio sisters, always ready to take their punishment to save them the pain, always honest to a fault. The right man could turn her stubbornness into spirit, but he doubted any would have the patience for such things. She would have been better off as an Amazon but she had not been bred of that land and the female warriors had no need for nuptials.

  Amlet’s delicate fingers held surprising strength as she worked his calf muscles. "Is it Violet that troubles you so?"

  "Aye, she is in the instruction chamber even now."

  "Oh, how sad. I hope Sir Kanith doesn’t mark her. She will already be so hard to sell."

  "You are wrong, sweet. What she lacks in attitude she makes up for in beauty and spirit. There is not one among your sisters who outshines her." Face down on the lounge Venore didn’t notice Amlet’s lips tightening. "There are those who would happily pay a high price to rape a spirited virgin just for the joy of beating her into submission."

  Amlet moved her hands up and down the backs of his thighs, adding more warm oil and digging her thumb into any resistant flesh. "She does not seem the type who’d submit no matter what they do to her. After all, she is still a trial to you and the punishments here are…." She paused, her voice catching. "So intense."

  "We have boundaries, sweet. After all, we cannot sell damaged merchandise. A husband has no such compunction, and she will either submit or break. I’d wager my job that the latter will occur very swiftly."

  "Such a waste."

  "Aye, but soon it will be out of my hands."

  Amlet finished the massage at his feet, and then automatically went to fill the surround, knowing a bath normally followed a massage.

  "Wait," he said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. "Fetch the illusion crystals first. I have need of escape."

  "Aye sir," she said and pulled out a tall bottle filled with various colored crystal candies of odd sizes and shapes.

  He took it from her and spilled several into his hands. "What should it be tonight?"

  As if knowing his thoughts before he did, she knelt between his thighs.

  He smiled. She knew his mind so well. He popped a candy into his mouth. Within a moment, his mind would trick him into believing he was still a virile man. He motioned for Amlet to move forward. She obeyed, wrapping her full lips around his limp member and sucking. Nothing happened in reality, but in his mind he swelled and throbbed. After many minutes of pumping, he ejaculated a stream of semen into her willing mouth.

  Amlet’s gaze lifted, watching the eunuch twitch and moan. She had all she could do not to gag. His mimicry of sexuality repulsed her, but he never suspected. Not one of them had suspected in all the years that she had used this body to achieve the Dark Master’s will. Once there had been a lass, docile and sweet as Amlet pretended to be. Cora still existed, existed like a puppet deep inside the body shell, living day by day by Amlet’s will when the sorceress’ spirit sought another temporary host. She couldn’t risk using Amlet’s body when she practiced her craft or sought the Dark Master’s counsel or when she needed to be her own viperous self. Last week Amlet didn’t depart from the body. Everything had to be perfect.

  She pulled away from the eunuch and flipped her hand upward. "Sleep!"

  Venore fell backward and snored.

  Tired of playing submissive to this fool, she planted the suggestion of a perfect evening within his mind. It freed her to seek a sacrifice. After all, only blood could ensure the potency of her power and within just days, her power had to be at its peak.

  Leaving the chamber, she put Amlet’s body to bed and let her spirit roam. The pub just outside the Seraglio would be bursting with those attending the nuptials. Diving into a tall, vivacious lass with an ample bosom and full hips, she sashayed into the bar. It would be easy to lure one of the drunken patrons into a dalliance. After the fun, she’d drain his spirit and his blood. Just the thought intoxicated her, and she was as close to being pleased as a demon could ever achieve.

  Only moments before catching the eye of a swaggering dupe of the shadow caste, her gaze settled on the body of a young girl, hooded and chained to the wall, spread-eagled. Although rules forbade any to penetrate the girl, all were allowed to touch and torment as long as the marks weren’t lasting.

  A rough looking man with a full beard and eye patch nibbled one of the girl’s nipples. Another man played with her other breast, squeezing and slapping it alternately. Yet another used a strap against her splayed open triangle. Every now and then, a man would shove a torturer aside and claim his place. Amlet wondered how receptive they would be to her taking a turn. What a lusty, perverted prelude to her evening that would be. Before she could take a step in that direction, a man with brooding good looks, aquiline nose, firm jaw and jutting cheekbones stepped forward. He had no insignia to mark his caste or clan, but his bearing spoke of nobility. His lean tight muscles covering a medium stature belied the true intensity of his strength. His eyes were a remarkable shade of gold and green while ebony hair, layered almost like a lion’s mane, sported a singular swath of silver from right brow to tip, betraying he used the arts well and often. His black leather garments, adorned with an onyx handled sword and matching dagger, could just as easily be of the shadows or of the light, and strangely Amlet couldn’t see beyond the obvious to figure out which.

  With several swift and precise maneuvers, he tossed each man away from the lass, and then drew his sword. He didn’t say a word, but there was something about his stance and bearing that elicited a threat more daunting than if he had ten men standing behind him. Grumbling, the small crowd fell away. Amlet watched as his gaze ravished the girl. He held out a hand as if to touch her, but yanked it away just as quickly.

  He turned to the robed man downing ale just a few feet away. Few things shocked Amlet, but she didn’t expect to find a eunuch in the pub let alone one of the ranks. Her gaze jerked back to the chained lass. Kanith actually dared to use the ultimate torment on none other than the obstinate Violet.

  * * * *

  Violet willed herself not to cry, but she couldn’t stop shivering and silent screams echoed in her mind. How could Sir Kanith do this to her? It was against the rules to take a lass from behind the Seraglio’s walls. Then again, she went entirely against regulations when she slapped him.

  But Venore’s words had shattered her world. Her family had lied. Violet was a copy of her mother. She, too, had been sold to the Seraglio. She, too, tried to escape but ended up sold to Violet’s father, Sol, who grieved her death until his own only a few years earlier.

  But it wasn’t hearing the truth that infuriated Violet. It was Kanith’s cutting remark that Tama was a slut. Violet refused to believe her mother willingly deserted Sol for a shadow lord. Upon Sol’s knee, Violet reveled in her father’s stories of funny moments and intense love he had shared with his wife. It had to be a spell that her father couldn’t rebuke. Only, who would have dared such a thing? Her father’s power had been legendary, and beyond what any expected from the son of a warrior.

  A man didn’t have a choice to the clan he had been born into. That was blood, family. However, upon his twenty-second year he chose to serve either the One or the Dark Master. It didn’t matter if he was a merchant, laborer, warrior, or royalty. All had to decide before they chose a profession or a mate. Commoners worked side by side no matter the choice. Warriors, royalty, and those of the castes, light mages and shadow conjurers, stood apart and waged war between good and evil.

  Sol said Tama was of the light, pure, unsullied. How could she have been drawn to a conjurer? It had to be beyond her control. Violet couldn’t think on that any longer. She had to get past this moment and the feel of filthy hands mauling her.

  She willed her mind to retreat. She willed herself not to experience. It took every ounce of magic she possessed but she willed herself to sleep, and with sleep came the dream and the stranger. The stranger who parted the shadows and promised her succor. With sm
all whimpers she spread herself for him, welcomed him into her bed, and pleaded with him to take her away from the torment.

  "Shhh," he whispered. "You are with me now. Feel what they are doing, but it is me."

  And it happened. The suckling of nipples became his lips wrapped around her taut buds. The massaging fingers became his, stirring wild sensations within her. If pain invaded, it dulled under his endless caresses. She could barely breathe under the hood, but it was now because of his potent kisses, fierce and endless, stealing her breath away.

  "Come for me," she pleaded.

  "I am coming," he said.

  "I’m so scared."

  "There is nothing to fear. Give me your heart and I will protect it always."

  "Who are you?"

  "Soon you’ll know. You’ll see me in the light."

  "Hurry."

  "Shh, soon," he whispered, and the dream intensified. He was inside her thrusting, slow gentle thrusts, taking her beyond veracity. Moans bled into the mask. Her pulse raced. Her body burned. She met every plunge with a thrust of her hips. The torment without could no longer touch her, for she was with him. He was real. He would come for her.

  Every movement claimed her anew and in a moment she’d shatter, but before she could, the dream dissolved and her body cried out in protest as pain claimed her muscles. She felt herself freed of the chains, but somehow that made the agony worse. Tears clogged her eyes and blocked her nose. She couldn’t breathe. Panic set in and she fought with inefficient blows and kicks.

  "It’s okay. It’s coming off," a masculine voice assured.

  The hood fell away and she gulped night air, but she couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t stop shaking. Darkness and wind fell on her naked form, but someone wrapped a cloak about her with more gentleness than she had ever experienced. "You’re going to be okay," a voice whispered against her ear.

  The tears blinded her from her champion’s face. Somehow, she managed a thank you, but it was just a hushed whisper. For the first time in her young life, she let go. All the fight left her. For this moment, this solitary moment, they won. Only, it wasn’t because of torment. It was through kindness. The stranger who held her, who carried her close to his chest, who whispered soothing words, managed what all the torture could never achieve. She submitted.

  * * * *

  "Help me take her down," the dark-haired man ordered. "No lass should be used and displayed."

  "She needed a lesson, a good one."

  The stranger’s face tightened. His voice became low, almost a whisper, but Amlet’s keen hearing picked up every syllable. "I’d venture to say your superiors would not approve of such a lesson. Now help me take her down or I will claim her here and now as my bride, the Seraglio will make a little less profit, and I will not have to part with my coin."

  Kanith blanched. It was well known that if a eunuch did anything to devalue a lass, they would make up for it with his hide. He would be sold as food for the spider-wolves that howled at the city gates.

  The stranger carried her gently out the door. Her moans and sobbing tore at his heart. "Get that hood off!"

  Kanith obeyed.

  "There’s a cloak in my saddle bag, there," he said, indicating the steed tethered to a post. "Get it."

  Again Kanith immediately responded, retrieved the cloak, and tucked it around Violet.

  "Now take me to her room."

  "I can’t--"

  "You will!"

  Kanith led the man through the back way into the Seraglio and up several flights of stairs that passed the more luxurious chambers of the eunuchs to that of merchandise. He unlocked Violet’s small chamber and stepped aside.

  The man gently eased her onto the cot and pushed her hair aside so he could regard her face. "Is she still a virgin or did you take that from her as well?"

  "She is still pure. I’m not that stupid."

  The man gave him a look that implied the opposite. "What’s her name?"

  "Violet Haze."

  "What did she do that was so wrong?"

  "Slapped me."

  The man grinned. "Not one of the more docile of the brides, eh?"

  "Docile? A crazed spider-wolf is more docile than this lass."

  "Why do you keep her?"

  "Look at her," was all Kanith said.

  "Aye," the man returned. "You should take better care of your merchandise and learn the value of compassion. The sun warms the cloak off a man whereas the cold only makes him clutch it more tightly. Same holds true for a lass."

  Violet moaned and scanned his face, seemingly aware of him but not quite. He softly kissed her brow, and then whispered, "You have a light within that none will quench. In that light, your soul will speak. In that light, your spirit will thrive. In that light, you will learn control and the true nature of being of the sun caste."

  Violet had heard those words before. At the moment she couldn’t place them, and fatigue and pain claimed her so quickly, she couldn’t even respond as the stranger took his leave.

  Kanith let loose a long, scared breath. He had gone too far taking Violet to the pub, but she just pushed him beyond endurance. He doubted Venore cared what he did to her as long as she could stand on the plank without aid at the nuptials. Even now the urge to torment her nearly overwhelmed him, but she was totally unconscious and he doubted that she would feel it.

  Besides, he recognized the stranger. He was lucky to have survived the encounter. He had heard that a man could die at Lord Ash’s hand for simply crossing his shadow.

  * * * *

  Anxiety hovered over the Seraglio like fog on the moors. Even the brides longing for a husband knew a beast could purchase them as easily as a prince. They had to be at their best, to show their beauty and submissiveness, to display their talent but not show off, for both conjurers and mages alike had an ego one should not overshadow.

  Violet didn’t care one iota about their egos. If she had her way a wife would be equal to her husband. Sun would light the day and stars would brighten the night. They said there had been a time that the kingdom had been different, that women had a say in their lives, and then the shadows crept into existence, bringing about change. The women who rebelled became Amazons who lived in the deep forests and treated men as slaves. That was no better than the way men treated the women of the kingdom. Violet prayed to the One that the legend of old was true, and that one day a mage of sufficient purity and strength would destroy the shadow beings.

  Panic emerged at the thought of being sold to a shadow lord. How would she survive? Her craft would be lost in darkness. It would be swallowed up whole and her spirit would dwindle until she was nothing more than a puppet for a dark lord to prey upon. And if she ripened with his seed, how would she raise her children? How did one teach them that dark was right? She’d rather die than live in the shadows, and die she would after her display on the plank. They would have no choice but to free her or slaughter her. For none would dare to buy a lass as brazen as she.

  Chapter Three

  Mirrored wall sconces lit the Seraglio’s central hall on nuptial day. The circular chamber displayed rows of balconies with luxurious chairs and tables. Those of the highest rank claimed the best view of the plank, which occupied central stage. Venore, donned in a crimson gold-edged robe, slipped his finger over the charm viewer positioned at the head of the plank. One poke at a scripted name brought up a lass’s three-dimensional image as well as her stats from her birth clan to her disposition and her craft level.

  A blunt fingertip jabbed Violet’s name. He sighed at the marks against her obedience record, but he knew there were those who craved the spirit she possessed. If only she knew the discipline had been for her protection. Only the most submissive or shrewd women survived in the kingdom. Violet was neither. They’d devour her like a delectable sweet. Venore had done his best, and could only offer a prayer that the One would be merciful and place her with a husband who’d nourish her spirit rather than destroy it.

  Ven
ore touched the charm’s side and another list appeared. He reviewed the names of the clientele who had arrived. Many attended in disguise, but Venore knew who was in every box seat. Usually, only one box remained empty, but even that lord had arrived. Venore’s spirit fell. He now knew who would purchase Violet. He knew that just as Violet had mirrored her mother’s rebellion in life, she would mirror it in death. The eunuch could not worry about her now and focused on the auction and clientele.

  He had just enough time to make certain the novice eunuchs, dressed in severe black, served refreshments with sufficient respect and elegance. The Seraglio catered to its elite and tried to make each customer feel they were privileged. Indeed they were, for only mages and conjurers, the warriors of Heaven and Hell, were invited to the nuptials. Commoners bargained with family for their wives, and unmarried girls ended up as servants in either their own households or others. Royalty offered their daughters as bargaining chips.

  Some women fled to the Amazons, who slaughtered the weak and accepted the strong. Other rebellious souls wandered to the mountains, but all knew that meant death for the land held nothing but endless winter. Survival taught women ways to enchant men, to submit to them. Yet some managed an underhanded way of controlling them as well. A very select few rose to the rank of sorceress, but that meant being in league with the Dark Master.

  In the floor above the hall, Amlet stood still and silent. She had chosen that course rather than be subservient to any man. She never regretted her actions, and now was a major player in the battle for control. Today wasn’t the first or last step toward eliminating every sun clan, but it was an important one. Over the last few nights she had made blood sacrifices and now possessed undiluted power. She would manipulate the proceedings to her will.

  Across the hall, Violet was the only other one who was silent and very still. Some girls paced, others prayed, still others fussed with their attire or hair. Many chatted in hushed tones. All learned to control tears, but hugs were exchanged and promises that they would somehow stay in touch. A few would even manage to keep that vow for they would be sold into the same clan. Most, though, wouldn’t. They grew up as sisters, and now most would find themselves in opposing clans or castes.