Awakened by The Shadow KingCaptive of Shadows
Bailey Dark
Copyright © 2019 by Bailey Dark
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
About the Author
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Chapter 1
Briar
Sweat beads upon my brow as I toss and turn, cocooned by the finely spun silk of my bedsheets.
Tendrils of darkness wrap around me, but unlike Kane and his magic, this darkness brings me no comfort. A gasp of pain leaves my lips as my nails claw away at the mattress beneath me. Red eyes lurk in the corners of my mind. Chest heaving, I suck harsh mouthfuls of air into my lungs. But the Nephilim is dead. I know this to be true and yet I thrash in the clutches of my nightmare as if he can reach me beyond the place where not even Death himself lurks.
Sharp, jagged claws strain toward me. White light flares in a swirling spectrum of power, illuminating the shadows and surging all around. My eyes burn as if I am unworthy to look upon its glory even though the warmth of the light reaches down into my soul. The Nephilim’s face contorts into an expression of agony before the swell of the ethereal power becomes too great. An eruption of gore catapults me from the bed and I tumble to the floor.
Through the sound of blood rushing to my head, I hear the pitiful whimpers that escape me. I swallow past the lump of fear that threatens to drag my mind back into the darkness. My eyes flicker around the room, drinking in the familiar sight of the glowing embers that crackle within the hearth. The scarlet hue of red upon the walls drip with dark, concealed blood, and I squeeze my eyes shut to banish the fading remnants of the dream.
I leave for my journey through the underworld soon and yet my mind is still tormented by what happened in the mortal realm. Some nights, I close my eyes and find myself curling up on my side in the room where the Nephilim kept the bodies of his soul-leeched victims. Other nights, I’m standing over my own body as I watch him suck out my soul, seeing the light behind my eyes dim with each sickening pull.
I shiver despite having grown used to the chill that invariably lingers in the air here.
My eyes finally open once again and I reach beneath the pillow. I flinch slightly as my fingers brush against the cold hilt of my blade. Pulling it free, I observe the simplicity of it. Only I know the weight of the burden that comes with its use. It represents everything I am and everything I strive not to be. I am the betrayer and the betrayed. The hypocrisy of my actions mirror Kane’s more than I care to admit.
A clock ticks somewhere in the castle as I stroll over to the window.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Faint light streams in through the variegated stained glass, battling against the shadow draped floors . I trace my finger along the fractals of color that paint an intricate scene of a beautiful garden. Unlatching the window with a grunt of force, I push it open. The sharp scent of jasmine wafts through the air as the wind brushes gently against my cheeks. Tangerine light spills over the land, washing the obsidian mountains in a warm glow. From so high up in the castle, the lights of the city resemble thousands of chatoyant stars.
Reapers soar across a sky streaked with shades of amber and rose. Though they are beautiful in their lethal grace, they pale in comparison to Kane. His enormous fleshy wings were a sight to behold as they sliced through the air at frightening speeds. My heartbeat quickens, memories of our flight drifting gently over my skin, the proximity of our bodies still arousing in thought.
My eyes shift away from the scene, fresh air filling my lungs as my fingers knead my skin, letting the feeling pass by me. My hands reach for the handle of the window, pausing for just a moment before shutting away the outside and shuffling off to ready myself for the day. As the bath fills, I release the clasps of my nightgown, feeling the softness of the fabric as it piles around my feet.
The familiar scent of lilac and honey fills my lungs and soothes my nerves as I dip into the warm waters of my bath. This time, I reach for the oils tinged with the tantalizing aroma of vanilla. I massage them into the long, ebony tresses of my hair before I rinse. After hunting down the Nephilim and enduring an emotional battle with Kane, I don’t mind taking advantage of the luxuries the underworld has to offer.
When the water in my bath grows cold, I quickly braid my untamed waves down the length of my back and wiggle into the dress that the servants left for me. I ease through the door and walk over to the wardrobe in the corner to retrieve the makeshift belt and sheath I made to conceal my dagger. It’s fashioned from materials I found while wandering the castle late at night when the nightmares were too much to handle. Not anything that people will miss, just scraps of leather and a few pewter clasps I took from old clothes.
At first it was a way to distract myself, but in many ways, it became an attempt to avoid my betrothed. Kane also tries his best to avoid me nowadays, neither of us caring enough to hide our reluctance to be in one another’s presence.
