Dark Promise (Underworld)

8



Cassandra slumped to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and put her head down. Trapped in the Underworld forever unless she agreed to his insane, dark promise. She missed the caring man in her dreams who attended to her every need. He was gone, replaced by a selfish, uncaring one. Her dream man had just turned into a nightmare.

The plum painted walls warmed her and an orchid canopy bed with overstuffed pillows spoke of royalty. There was a mahogany carved desk with a French Victorian chair. She sat on a plush white carpet. It could be worse. She could be locked in a dungeon sitting on a cold stone floor.

“I’m truly losing it.” She stood and ran to the door. “Gotta be a way out of here.”


She turned the knob. Locked. What did she expect? She dashed to the black drapes, hanging over the windows. Two suns descended behind magnificent mountains, rivaling the Colorado Rockies back home. White fluffy clouds turned purple and pink.

Glowing torches illuminated the gray stone castle and reflected on a black moat. She was in one of the corner towers soaring ten stories high. A white foamy roaring river wound around the castle separating it from a little village and it had to be at least ten feet wide. The village was filled with brownstone buildings with red tile roofs and cobblestone streets. Maybe if she could get there, someone could help her escape.

Shit, there was only one entrance and one approach to the castle. No way to get out without being seen.

In the middle of the castle’s courtyard, an enormous, tall aspen tree with dozens of naked twisted gnarled limbs, struggled for life. Dead leaves piled around at the trunk. It must have been beautiful once, but now winter had claimed the tree and her boughs were barren.

Black winged guards patrolled the defensive walls, their upper bodies covered by tan shirts. But no. As the guards patrolled, the only shirts they wore were their glorious straining and flexing muscles. Tree-sized thighs seemed to challenge the confines of their tight, leather, ebony pants. On their backs, they had leather straps lined with bullets and they carried machine guns in their massive hands. Tucked in their belts were sabers and revolvers.

A guard glanced at her, and a sinister smile spread across his lips. His solid red eyes spelled death. He killed her breath. She darted away from the window, and leaned against the wall. How could she hope for an escape?

Icy air froze her. The Wraith. This thing was a Goddess to the demons? Shaking, Cassandra found her voice. “Why am I here?”

The Wraith pointed a long bony finger at her. “He told you.”

“I’m supposed to mate with him. You mean marry him?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to kill me if I don’t?”

“No.”

Acting braver than she felt, she demanded, “Take me home.”

“I’ve seen it. He’s appeared to you in your dreams. Trust him. You have the ring. Fulfill the prophecy.”

She glanced at the simple silver band on her finger. “My ring? What prophecy?”

The Wraith faded.

Cassandra called out, “My ring? What prophecy?” She spun around the room, but she was alone. The Wraith left her with more questions than answers.

She plopped on the bed. Mother had given her the ring at her sixteenth surprise birthday party.

Her mother had handed her a small black velvet box. A smooth silver ring sparkled in the purple satin.

“Mom, it’s beautiful.”

“I wanted you to have this,” her mother had said. “To remember all of your accomplishments—not stuttering, speaking clearly, your good grades. You've grown into a beautiful young woman.” Her mother had hugged her. “Happy sixteenth birthday, sweetheart.”

Cassandra missed her mother’s soft citrus fragrance, her mother’s faith in her that never failed to humble Cassandra. She'd believed in her, protected her, helped her achieve her goals. Cassandra slumped. Right now, she’d give anything to hear her mother’s voice or inhale her sweet perfume. What if she never saw her again? Or her father? Or Lilly?

She grabbed a pillow and stretched out on the bed. Her whole life she had been searching for the man in her dreams only to finally meet him and have him lock her in a tower. What was that saying? Too good to be true. She should have stayed with Luke.

But she had never wanted Luke. She had always wanted Eric. She just hadn't known he was real. A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away. Shivering she grabbed a quilt, crawled under it, and curled up into a ball. More tears fell. This time, she let them. Eric was her kidnapper, but he was the only safe and familiar thing about this place. Why hadn’t he stayed with her? The clock on the mantle ticked and he never returned. Pulling the quilt tighter around her, she softly cried herself to sleep.

Warmth spread across her cheek and she opened her eyes. The morning sun shone on her face. Someone had pulled the drapes apart. Eric? When had he returned?

She stretched. The door creaked open. She sat at attention. Speaking of her jailer, Eric came in carrying a silver tray with a silver platter of food and a pot of coffee. Her heart leapt at his return, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was glad to see him. Why should she? He'd betrayed her.

He set the tray on the mahogany desk and removed the platter. Her stomach growled at the fluffy scrambled eggs, fresh pineapple, buttered wheat toast and slices of bacon. The aroma of coffee filled the room and she longed for a cup. She glared. “I’m not hungry. Tell me about the prophecy and my ring.”

Folding his arms, he met her cold stare. “I take it the Wraith visited you last night?”

“So?”

Uncrossing his arms, he edged closer.

She'd missed him. Her mind screamed for her to tell him to leave to remember he was a demon, a kidnapper, but her body responded to his masculine scent, enchanting lips. She wanted him. Really wanted him, not just to work through her fear or to fulfill her fantasy.

As if in a trance, she slid off the bed. Did she move on her own or did he use some kind of dark magic? Either way, she wanted him to touch her. Kiss her again. Hold her.

He maneuvered her against a wall. His muscles rippled beneath her palms and his heart pounded as fast as hers. He trailed his finger down her face, sending a wave of heat through her blood. Trembling, she stared at his half parted lips, willing him to kiss her again.

Brown eyes mesmerized her, undeniable desire reflecting them. Tender lips caressed hers and she sighed. Heat spread and pooled into a sweet ache between her thighs.

He cupped her breast, squeezing it. The caress of his fingers playing with her growing sensitive breast took her breath away. Eric’s kiss turned demanding, possessive, sweeping pleasure through her and sending her into a pool of desire. Her legs wobbled and she gripped his shirt to keep from falling. He slipped his hand under her sweater. Her knees weakened.

She couldn’t do this. Not for real. She broke off the kiss. “No, Eric. Stop.”

He stared at her with hooded eyes. “You don’t want me to stop.”

Panting, she summoned her strength to push on his chest, trying to ground herself into reality. “Yes, I do,” she lied. Had he put a spell on her? She had to gather her wits or fall into a hopeless pile of desire.

He pulled away and waved his hand. “Move across the room from me,” he ordered, his voice strained.

Straightening her sweater, she edged away from him, her body tingling. “Now, tell me about the prophecy. And my ring.”

His intense gaze followed her, a panther watching his prey, ready to pounce. “My people are turning feral. Lethal. Out of control. Bent or killing each other for pleasure.”

“Why?”

“Because the Light has left them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“For centuries, the Light of the Golden Tree has sung the Song of Tranquility, which keeps the Light within us and keeps our dragon fire under control.”

She was plopped in a fantasy tale with no way out. “Dragon fire?”

“Yes. My ancestors mated with dragons long ago. Dragon fire burns within our core. It’s primitive, more animalistic. When it takes control, we become fierce predators.” He half smiled. “What do humans say? Music calms the wild beast?”


“That’s a myth.”

“All myth is based on fact. When the last leaf drops, all of us will give into the lust. We will war with each other and focus on the humans.”

“You’ll kill us?”

“Or enslave you. Death would be preferable. Once turned, nothing on Earth can stop us.”

“If nothing on Earth can stop you, how come you need me?”

His eyes softened. “You’re the Light. The prophecy said on the eve of the equinox, during the year of her twenty-first year, the silver haired human, tainted with angel blood, who is mated to the last Lord of the House of Wyvern, and has looked upon the Wraith and the Undead unchanged, will breathe upon the Golden Tree and return the Light to the people.”

“You’re the last Lord of Wyvern?”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow is March twentieth and my birthday is on June twentieth.”

“Yes, the summer solstice, when your Light shines the brightest.”

“Eric, I’m not the only human who can see the undead.”

“True.” He walked over to the tray, poured a cup of coffee, and doctored it with cream. “But you’ve seen the Wraith and remained unchanged, untouched.”

He approached her and offered her the cup and didn’t make any sudden moves. “Here, you need coffee.”

Her shaking hands circled the cup, chasing away the chill running through her.

“When the Wraith appears to humans.” He returned to the tray and poured himself a cup of black coffee. “Unless they are pure in spirit, they turn evil, insane.”

All this time, she’d been in danger. “I don’t want this and what does this have to do with my ring.” She took a sip, wishing a shot laced it.

“Your ring is from the Underworld, destined for you.”

“No, it’s not. My mother gave it to me.”

He smiled. “Where did your mother get it?”

“I don’t know. She never told me.”

“I can.”

She wouldn’t like what he said.

“Your mother purchased it at a craft sale from an old woman.”

“You don’t mean the Wraith.”

He shook his head. “No, the Wraith sent her priestess here disguised as an old woman.” His voice softened. “I would never allow anything to happen to anyone you love Cassandra.”

She wasn’t even sure she wanted to wear it. Her mother had given it to her out of love and right now, she needed her mother’s love.

“You have a choice, Cassandra. Refuse and your race will be dominated and enslaved, or accept and they go free.”

“But I don’t love you.” As the words rolled off her tongue, she knew it was a lie. Her heart swelled when he was around and no man had ever measured up to him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Love isn’t part of the bargain. Soul mates in the Underworld are destined. The drive to mate is hard.”

His icy tone cooled her blood. “You mean demons aren’t capable of love?” Had she been wrong about him? In the dream, he had always been so tender, kind, loving.

“I didn’t say that.” He slammed the cup on onto a nightstand. “Unlike humans we don’t need love to be mated. Ours is based on instinct. Once mated, the bond between the two can never be broken. We die defending our mates.”

“How many other women have been taken here against their will?”

His eyes darkened, red glints growing brighter. She hit a nerve, at what cost?

“You mean humans?” He curled his lip. “None.”

“Excuse me?”

He gave her a droll stare. “Your human arrogance causes you to think you’re the only game in time.”

“Town.”

He frowned. “What?”

She rolled her eyes. “The saying is ‘you’re the only game in town’, not time.”

His face darkened and he clamped his jaw.

Obviously, sarcasm wasn’t going to win her any points. She put her hands on her hips. “What exactly do you mean by humans?”

“Some demons have mated with sirens, elves and nymphs.”

He was either totally insane or she was, but then again, she was in the Underworld, not Earth. Probably, every mythical creature lived here. “I’ve been plopped into a Lord of the Rings saga. Next you’ll tell me demons mate with Orcs. Oh, that’s right. You guys are the Orcs.”

“Hardly.”

“The cop, he’s a demon too? Waiting to snatch some unsuspecting woman?”

“Aiden?”

“Is that his name?”

“Aiden Blackstone is not a Dragon Demon. He’s a Kachina.”

He was screwing with her. Had to be. “Okay, you’ve lost me. He turns into a doll?”

Eric chuckled. “Not quite. His kind lives in our Red Fiery Mountains. He’s a spirit. An Angak, the healing and protective male.”

“The protective overbearing male I get. He’s on Earth why?”

“Aiden’s only part spirit. His other half is human. His father made love with a woman and got her pregnant when he visited Earth. When Aiden was nine years old, his mother died so his father brought him back here and raised him. Last I heard, he and his father had a falling out so Aiden split.”

“Great. A half spirit, half human cop alive and well in Frisco, Colorado.” She grabbed strands of her hair and braided it. Anything to hang on to reality. “I’m the only human?”

“Yes.”

“If I believe you…”

He stood straighter and looked less than amused.

Did he think she’d swallow this fantasy tale? “Do the sirens, elves or nymphs demons snatched from other worlds detest being here too?”

She walked to the window. Were other female creatures locked in towers like her? Maybe they could work together and find a way to escape. “You make it sound so barbaric,” she said.

“For us it is,” Eric said. “Divorce is so common in the human world and here it’s unheard of.”

His husky voice grabbed her attention. Passion filled his smoldering eyes. Her heart pounding and her breath quickening, an urge to kiss him filled her, but she stayed where she was, too afraid to move, too afraid to stay.

“If one mate dies, the other withers and dies soon afterward.”

The ferocity of their mating struck her. The enormity of it chilled her bones and stirred her blood. “I’m having a hard time believing demons do this. Demons possess people.”

“Those demons are fallen angels and ruled by Satan. We're not descended from angels. We are our own race. There are many demon breeds in the Underworld. North of us is the kingdom of the Chimera Demons. To the south of us is the kingdom of the Komodo Demons. We are the Dragon Demons.”

She struggled to sort out what he was telling her, since her freedom appeared to depend on it. “I've heard of dragons in Greek mythology, but dragon demons?”

“Our ancestors lived in the Ancient Caves faraway from here. They mated with a dragon and our race was born. We can fly, breathe fire, control the weather in the Underworld and do what you humans call magic. Our magic is connected to the Golden Tree. The higher the lineage, the more magical power we possess.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m a prince.”

“So, you’re very powerful?” Any minute the man could cast a spell on her and force her to do something against her will. She had to leave the Underworld. She didn’t want to be a slave, not able to make her own decisions.

“My magic is strong here, but with the tree dying, my magic is turning from light to dark so I don’t dare use it.”


“What about your father?”

His face turned grim. “He’s lost. Gone feral. His magic is now dark. He's almost insane.”

“He wasn’t always…evil?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

The nightstand clock ticked. Soft footsteps echoed outside the bedroom door. Cassandra wanted to flee, but with demons who could fly, breath fire and do magic, what chance did she have? She needed to warn people back home, but if no one believed her about seeing ghosts or the Wraith, how could she convince them that Dragon Demons were about to invade their world? For sure, she’d be locked up in a psych ward.

Eric strolled to the curtains, swung them aside and opened the balcony doors.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to show you something.”

Over his shoulder, the two suns, one moon and a cobalt blue sky, darker than Earth’s reminded her she was trapped in another dimension. “What?”

He stretched out his hand. “I promise I won’t let anyone harm you. To defy me is death.”

She kept her hands close to her side, not daring to move. “What happened to your eyes?”

His cheeks flamed red and he glanced away. “I’m starting to go feral. By tomorrow night, I will succumb to it completely.”

Her beautiful gentle prince would transform into a terrifying picture he painted of his people. He kept saying she had the power to stop it, but what if he was wrong? What if he was lying?

He faced her and took a step closer. “Give me your hand.”

He stood motionless. He could force her, use magic on her, compelling her to do what he wanted, but he gave her a choice. She raised her shaking hand and took his. He wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her to him, his arm securing her next to him. She was surprised he trembled. The strength wielded in his arm, he could crush her, but he hugged her gently to his body. Despite his eyes turning red, she was safe in his arms. She was his mate—actually not yet. Was she in danger?

“Trust me,” he whispered.

Cassandra wanted to, God, she wanted to so bad, but his picture didn’t give her much hope. Still debating over his husky promise, Eric grabbed her before she could sort out her thoughts. Eric hugged her close to him, her back pressed against his hard chest. Air rushing over her face, she opened her eyes and they were in the clouds. She wiped the moisture off her cheeks.

His ebony wings spread, wide and elegant. They flew above the tops of pine trees, their sweet scent reminding her of Frisco. He dove toward a stone fortress where torches lit the courtyard. Children and adolescents roughhoused in the yard, but on a closer inspection, they had not been wrestling. Eric landed on bloodstained grass. She molded her body close to him, praying he would protect her.

A woman stood in the middle of the yard, wielding a whip. One strike and the woman would leave a sizeable welt. Flicking back her long brown hair, she turned toward them and a wicked smile spread across her red lips.

Eric clutched her hand and she squeezed his hand tight. “What is this place?”

“A school.”

The air sucked out of her lungs. “I thought it was a prison.”

“I told you the Light is gone. Darkness prevails.” He slid his arm around her waist and she leaned against him, wanting to hide behind him. She cursed her cowardice, but as a child, Cassandra had never experienced such travesty on the playground.

Boys and girls of all ages fought each other, girls just as brutal as the boys. Two elementary age girls circled each other. One lunged for the other, seizing her opponent’s hair. They wrestled to the ground, scratching and ripping each other’s clothes. A small boy ran from an older child who cornered him against the wall. “No, leave me alone,” the boy pleaded.

The older child laughed and blew. Flames burst out of his mouth and fanned over the small child. His overalls blackened and fire ate his red-checked shirt. The stench of burned flesh turned Cassandra’s stomach.

The little one yelled.

Cassandra closed her fist and hammered Eric’s arm. “Let me go.”

The boy’s screams grew louder as he ran around the courtyard, fire consuming him. She wanted to douse his flames and rush him to the hospital.

Eric tightened his hold. “Cease your struggling,” he warned. “You can’t help him, or the others will turn on you.”

The coldness in his voice crushed her hope of Eric being the man she wanted. How could she be with someone who would do nothing to stop a young boy from being tortured? Had his heart turned to stone?

“You’re going to let him die.”

“He’s immortal, Cassandra.” Eric’s face hardened. “He was obviously weak. Any sign of weakness results in severe punishment.” No compassion reflected in his eyes.

The woman strolled over toward them, black leather pants hugging her long legs. She slapped the end of the whip handle in her hand. Her white muscle shirt clung to large breasts and revealed sculpted arms. “Prince Eric, I’m honored you’ve come to watch my class.”

The brunette woman had solid crimson eyes, full of hate and she twirled her whip like a baton, stopped and pointed it at Cassandra. “What is that disgusting thing with you? Something for my students to play with?”

Cassandra flinched.

“Watch your tongue, Mistress Shandra. This is my mate.”

Mistress Shandra sniffed and curled her lip. “A human?” She laughed. “As you wish, my Lord.”

Eric scanned the courtyard. “Where is Toby?”

“Useless wretch,” Mistress Shandra snarled. “Locked up. Punished for not doing his schoolwork.”

She didn’t even want to know what Mistress Shandra meant by schoolwork.

“Bring him to me,” Eric ordered.

Mistress Shandra motioned to two large brutes with the same solid red eyes. “Louis, Bruce, bring the coward to the prince.”

Louis and Bruce returned, dragging a teenage boy. His bare feet scraped the sharp rocks. Slashes, scratches and purple and blue bruises marred his naked sweaty torso. Dirt and blood smeared his thin trembling body and his shredded blue jeans hung off narrow hips. The boy’s long dark brown matted hair hung in his eyes. By his foul stench, the poor boy must have been living in squalor. What was wrong with these people? Had they been starving the wretched child?

Mistress Shandra slapped the handle of her whip into her hand. “Toby, the prince wants to see you.”

Toby raised his head, revealing a fat lip and a slash down the right side of his cheek. He had silver eyes and watched her warily.

Eric nodded to Louis and Bruce. “Let him go.”

They complied but not before Bruce spat on the boy. Panting, Toby collapsed to the ground.

Releasing Cassandra, Eric kneeled. “You refuse to follow my father’s orders?”

Cassandra hugged her side, refusing to look at the three demons and edged closer to Eric.

Toby glanced at Eric. He coughed and gasped. “I will fight, not like this, not for pleasure.”

“See my lord,” Mistress Shandra pointed. “He defies the king. He's not one of us. He should be put to death.” Smug satisfaction spread across Mistress Shandra’s cruel face. The woman peered down at Toby as if he was a bug to crush under her stiletto heel.

Toby was a kindred spirit, a boy punished for being different. Unlike the adults in this world, her teachers would punish those children who tormented her. Here bullies were rewarded. How many other children were beaten and tortured like Toby?

She wept at the scars Toby would bear for the rest of his life. How could he recover from this cruelty?


Eric stood. “My nephew’s not to be killed, Mistress Shandra. By tomorrow night, he’ll turn.”

Mistress Shandra bowed. “Very well, my Lord, but he will have to prove himself tomorrow night or die.”

Eric nodded. “So be it.”

Cassandra shot a look at Eric. How could he be so cruel? What happened to her tender prince?