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I stared at a blank canvas that leaned against the far wall and my fingers twitched on my bowl of food. My mind danced with visions of three riders on horseback. I was moving before I consciously made the decision, setting my bowl aside. I placed the blank canvas on a wooden easel after carelessly throwing my last one to the floor. I didn’t even care what medium I used, I just needed to get this image out of my head.
Grabbing the remnants of a worn-down stick of coal, I began to scratch out a vague silhouette. It was messy and smudged, but slowly, it began to take shape.
First were the eyes. Those damn fiery eyes that refused to leave my mind. Even the shape of them was distinct—tilted slightly and wider at the center, they were slightly larger than a human being’s eyes could be. Then there was his perfect nose with a slight bump on the ridge, wide, full lips, a trimmed beard, and high cheekbones. He was fierce and terrifying at the same time that he was beautiful and hypnotic.
The sketch didn’t come close to doing him justice. It didn’t quite capture the ferocity in his stare or the single-minded intent to capture his prey.Me. I was his prey.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there staring at the sketch, but it was long enough that I felt my eyes grow heavy, the weight of the chase I’d led them on crashing down onto me in waves. By now I had every feature, line, and curve of his face memorized. I found myself wanting to know his name.
Shaking my head, I let the coal drop to the floor, nothing more than a useless stub. I trudged to the chaise and threw myself onto the worn cushion, sinking into my blankets and pillow heavily. Sleep took me almost immediately…
My hands were aching.Sweat dripped down my neck and my inner thighs were hot and stinging. All around me were moving shapes but I couldn’t make anything out clearly, as if I was seeing under water.
I tried to move, but couldn’t. Something cold and heavy pulled at my wrists. Blinking rapidly, colors began to separate and the darkness receded. Muffled voices murmured somewhere in the room along with a few chuckles here and there. I was too groggy to hold my head up completely, but I could feel awareness dawning faster by the second.
“How much will we lose to keep her instead?” a low voice asked. It was muffled at first, but I could understand him. “Nevermind, I don’t care how much.” Something rough skimmed my thigh—fingers—a palm, warm and heavy. “Look at the way she opens for me. She was made for us.”
I shook my head from side to side, blinking again to clear away the blurry shadows. There was a deep hum in response to the man’s words. Then my vision cleared. I realized I was in a dimly-lit room and my hands were bound above me, my wrists locked in cuffs and chains that were attached to a golden ceiling.
“That’s right, open those pretty eyes, halfling,” the same voice said. He had an accent that I recognized immediately. “Look at me. Eyes up.”
I found myself complying. My lips stretched into a grin that I wasn’t in control of. It was as if my body was doing things on its own and I was simply a spectator. Hands skimmed up my inner thighs and a moan slipped past my lips. My skin was on fire, my toes curling and my back arching as the hands reached the apex. My body craved to be touched. The sensation was all consuming, making me want to writhe and beg for more.
The man’s face came into focus slowly. His glowing, blue eyes were full of want. He had tanned skin and long ash-blond hair that was shaved on the sides and braided down the center in a sort of warrior style. Bright-blue tattoos glowed on the shaved parts of his scalp like the ones I’d seen on the mysterious golden-eyed rider. They also twisted down his muscular arms. With pointed ears pierced with hoops and jewels, it was clear that he was fae.
He was one of the most beautiful males I’d ever seen, and he was staring at me like he wanted to eat me. The thought of that made my thighs burn more as sweat trickled down between my breasts that I just now realized were completely exposed.
I looked up at my hands bound in chains, following them down and down where the chains criss-crossed over the front of my body, between my breasts, over my abdomen and around my ankles, anchoring me to the floor.
Bringing a ring-clad hand to my face, keeping the other curled around my inner thigh, his thumb ran down my lip slowly. “Kyre, Kyre…the one with hair like fire. If you keep doing as you're told, I’ll be able to reward you.” His thumb dipped into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. “But if you defy us again…”
Something moved over his shoulder and my eyes flickered away from his for a split second, just long enough to see another man come closer. I took in the sight of a beautiful male with skin as dark as the night sky and horns that curled from his temples. His yellow eyes were slitted like a snake, right down the center.
I could have sworn, before the darkness descended, that a pair of massive wings rose up from behind him.
Kyre
Iwoke in a cold sweat to the moon shining directly onto the chaise and the rhythmic sound of thumping hooves ringing in my ears. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep with the curtains still drawn wide open, and so the moment my eyes adjusted, I was hopping out of bed and shutting them before anything could peep in on me.
My heart was racing as the sound of hooves faded into nothing—a deep, lilting voice nothing more than a seductive whisper against the shell of my ear.Just a dream.It was just a dream. More like a nightmare.
I made my way to the basin and splashed some ice cold water on my face, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The color was back in my cheeks finally, and my hair had dried into a crazy mass of copper curls. I was too tired to fix it right now.
With my hands braced on the edge of the basin, I stared into the mirror, trying to get a damn grip. Who was that man—that faerie with the blue eyes, and why could I still feel the ghost of his touch? And the one with the wings? Was he just some kind of residual memory? Dreams were funny like that.
I heard once that it was impossible to dream of faces you’ve never seen in real life, but I was positive I’d never seen either man before. I would have remembered the rune tattoos that glowed like lightning, and eyes that crackled with magic.
There was also the way he’d touched me. I should have been disgusted by the feel of a stranger’s hands on me, but in that dream it was like I was someone else. I was a woman who craved to be touched, who relished the sensation of the chains around my wrists.
Shaking my head, I splashed more water on my face, trying to wash away the bleary memory of the strange dream. It was almost—almost as if I could still hear those incessant hooves beating on the earth…
I froze as water dripped from my eyelashes. My hands were braced on the basin, fingers curling around the warped steel. The sound of hooves got louder, and was growing even louder by the second. The slow spread of dread seeped into me as I realized it wasn’t just a memory.
The mirror started to get fuzzy, my reflection distorting. Squinting, I leaned in, trying to figure out if I was having some kind of breakdown. No, it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me. Something was indeed happening to my mirror. Some kind of…magic.
I flinched as the surface rippled like a puddle of water and the hoofsteps became thunderous. I held onto the basin as the entire room shook, the floorboards moving under my feet.
Something’s coming...
