Page 2

Chapter Two

T he darkness enveloped Niall and he fought against it with all his might. Clawlike fingers reached for him, raking into his skin, tearing his flesh away from muscle and bone, leaving a stinging trail of pain down his legs, back and arms.

Laughter echoed, bouncing off the dirty, vermin-infested cell. The sound rang in his ears until he thought he’d scream.

The time had come. He had gone mad. He’d finally lost his mind, and he almost welcomed it.

Would the unfairness of his life go with him into the madness that enveloped him? Would the memories remain unscathed?

At the moment, he not only remembered everything he wanted to forget, but each single memory was magnified. Each painful experience of his past so real it was worse than any physical pain.

The assault abruptly ended, and he collapsed on the dirt floor, his breathing labored. Without warning, an invisible, vise-like hold tightened around his body pinning him against the damp, muddy wall.

What was left of his ragged, bloody clothing was torn from his body before the hold loosened, and once again Niall crumpled onto the floor.

Naked as a newborn babe, he inched back into a corner, straining both eyes and ears.

Finally, light from a torch flickered in the distance and moved closer. A woman appeared. She was dressed in light, flowing clothing which contrasted sharply against the muck and dirt of the dungeons. She seemed to glide toward his cell, passing the iron bars as if they didn’t exist.

The smell that reminded him of burning cedar and fragrant lilies assaulted his nose.

“Look at me Niall.” Her voice vibrated with anger. Her black eyes pierced his when he lifted his gaze. “It doesn’t have to be like this every time. You can just give yourself to me willingly.” Her lips curved into a smile that was somehow more malevolent than when she sneered. “Our encounters would be so much more enjoyable for you.”

Niall struggled to his feet backing against the corner of the dirty, stinking cell. Despite the fact the woman always won, he would never stop fighting.

Despite the suffering his actions brought, her obvious sting at being rejected was enough of a reward.

Whatever she was, witch or demon, Devina, as she called herself, was as beautiful as she was evil.

Not long after arriving in the alter-world, during one of Meliot’s quests, he’d come across Devina. The demon had pretended to need rescue, and to his ill-luck, he’d been the one to take her upon his steed and ride to where she lived. Since that fated day, she’d bewitched him with a powerful spell, binding him to her.

“Full of chatter as usual, Lover?” She closed the distance and ran a long fingernail down the center of his chest.

“I am speaking to you!” Devina screamed and when he remained silent, slapped him hard across the face. “Do you have any idea how many males desire me? And yet, you act as if being near me is a burden.”

With a huff, she motioned two large males he’d not seen arrive to come forward. “Ensure that he learns not to ignore me when I speak to him.” Her eyes slid slowly over his body, hesitating on his limp cock. She arched a brow. “I’ll see you in my chamber.” She moved away, taking the torch and his ability to see with her.

Grunts told him her henchmen moved closer, and he held his fists up, prepared to fight. When the first lash of the whip struck, the sting shocked him. The second and third hit in rapid succession. He was at a disadvantage. They could see in the dark.

The lashings continued until darkness claimed him.

Niall woke to find he was on Devina’s bed, satin sheets covered his nakedness. The sound of liquid being poured made his mouth water, and he turned his head to see that she was standing next to the bed, pouring a glass of wine.

Without offering him a drink, she took a long swallow, her eyes raking over his chest. He glanced down knowing not a mark from his torture would be evident. Devina didn’t like any visible marks on him. Her magic always left him perfectly healed without even a scar after his time in the dungeons.

“Will you make love to me today?” Always the same question, and he never answered. Instead, he looked away, studying the ever-changing décor of the room. Today the walls were blood red, the bed coverings black as night. A statue of Venus, with her eyes blindfolded, was evidence of Devina’s mood.

When he was about to ask for water, she pinned him with her gaze and slowly removed the sash that held her robe in place and allowed the silky fabric to fall from her shoulders. He turned away, refusing to acknowledge the evil woman. She laughed, a shrill, mirthless sound. “What is the matter, Lover? You don’t appreciate what most men would give an eye tooth for?”

An invisible forced pulled his arms up over his head. Sashes manifested, wrapping around his wrists and the headboard. Another set appeared at his ankles, his legs spread as the fabric was tied to opposing bedposts.

He struggled against the restraints, but only half-heartedly, hoping to save his energy to fight against her.

Devina climbed on the bed, and straddled him, sitting on his thighs. “How about we play pretend?” She held up a black sash, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously. She blindfolded him and waited a few beats. “I am her, the one you desire.”

A vision of a petite blonde woman slammed into his mind, and he was so astounded he let out a gasp. What trick was this?

When he didn’t harden, the demon screeched with rage. “All you have to do is give yourself to me, then you will be free. Just do it!” her furious screech made his ears ring.

He wouldn’t cede. The demon lied. Nail knew down to his bones that if he gave himself to her, the tie would become stronger.

Thump, thump, thump … the constant sound vibrated through the keep. He was back in his bedchamber. Back in the keep he’d shared with the other four knights for centuries. Niall rolled over his breaths like pants as relief washed over him.

The thumping continued as he slid out of the bed and pulled his breeches on. He stormed out of the room and down the stairs. “Padriag!”

Thump, thump, thump, the sounds continued.

He went down the stairs stopping on the landing just as the basketball flew past his shoulder. It bounced off the wall back toward the red-face young knight who grabbed it and eyed him with distaste.

“You could have caught that.” Padriag said, beginning to bounce it again, turning away from him.

Niall rushed to him and grabbed him by the scruff, picking the sweaty man off the ground. “I was trying to sleep.” He shoved the younger man away watching him stumble, barely able to keep from falling.

Padriag whirled around rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why you’re such an ass. You went to your room early last night. How many damn hours of sleep do you need?”

Without responding, Niall went to the large dining table and sat. Noticing a pot of tea, he poured himself a cup. “Where is Liam?”

If everyone was to be rescued one by one from this realm, Niall was perturbed at the idea of being left to live alone with Padriag. The young knight who’d been only two and twenty when enchanted remained a reckless youth.

With his joy in life barely dimming over the years and his ability to find humor in almost every situation, Padriag was his complete opposite. Niall didn’t begrudge the young man’s refusal to see the worst, for Padriag had suffered alongside him at Meliot’s hands, just as much as the others.

But most times, Padriag’s constant cheery disposition grated at him, reminding him of his constant torment even more.

“Liam went to the other realm to see your enchantress. She’s been summoning you,” Padraig told him. “If I were you I would go. She’s threatened on more than one occasion to come here.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Niall replied, “I do not believe Tristan or Gavin will allow her to come here.”

Tamara, the woman who was to supposedly free him from his enchantment, was wasting her time. He would never leave. There would never be freedom for him, whether there in the alter-world or in the other realm.

Padriag went to a narrow window and peered out. “The watchdogs looked bored. Some of them are asleep. No orders to storm the keep today, I suppose. Either that or they can’t get past my mighty wards.” He held up his arms flexing his biceps, and then began a warding spell, dashing about the room, using his magical powers to fortify the wards of protection he’d installed and maintained since they arrived in the alter-world.

Niall watched him for a moment. Soon Meliot’s minions would storm the keep. Meliot was a powerful wizard and could probably dispose of Padriag’s wards easily. Once the keep was overtaken, they’d be forced to leave. To move to Atlandia where the royal overseers would grant them asylum in exchange for joining their forces of shifters and sentries against Meliot’s dark forces.