Dark Tournament_A Romantic Fantasy Adventure_Touched Saga Spin-Off Read online

  “Come on, keep me company for a while until I recover. It was a really rough tournament.” I played with the little braid that dangled in front of her ear. That too was a distinctive sign. There wasn’t an Amazon at the Castle who didn’t have at least one braid, including the Witches.

  “The prisons around here aren’t a good place to hang out. You’d better toe the line or not even you will meet with a happy end.”

  “Kreeshna asked to be notified when you woke up and that is what we’re going to do,” Khetra added coldly. Then she shot me a little smile. “I understand her impatience. I bet she wants to punish you again. After all, your tongue is more poisonous than her panther claws. Her serpent will put you back in your place.”

  Kreeshna. I hated faking being subjugated to her. She’d been after me since I’d transformed and had tried to wear down my resistance, but I had never succumbed to her. Now that I was here, what alternative did I have? At least at the Castle I could entertain myself with the Mizhyas. They were friends, and a rather amusing pastime to boot.

  Reaching out, I grabbed Khetra’s ass and pulled her toward me. “I know a place where I could put my serpent. What do you say?” I asked, grinning.

  She twisted my wrists and a second later I found myself on my knees, my arms pinned behind my back and her knee shoved up against my spine. Sometimes I forgot the Mizhyas were trained to kill.

  “Ow! If you don’t feel like it, just say so. How about later?” Khetra shoved even harder. “Okay! I get it! I’ll take that as a no. Would you mind easing up a little? My arm’s still sore!”

  “I could try to rip it off you. That would solve the problem.”

  “Hey, if it turns you on,” I said playfully, and finally I heard her laugh behind me.

  Her breath touched my ear. “In the stables of the East Wing, after the horn sounds the beginning of the Hunt. Lenora and I will be standing guard on the tower, so try to get yourself back in shape for both of us.”

  I smiled, already aroused by the thought. They always played hard to get, but deep down they had just as much fun with me as I had with them.

  “Who’s having fun without me?” a voice thundered as someone made their way into the caverns. Kreeshna.

  Khetra shoved me away and bowed before her mistress. “I was keeping this Soldier in line, my lady.”

  “Exactly,” the Witch pointed out, coming closer. She spread her arms and waited until her maidservants had undressed her. “Go. Leave us alone.”

  The Mizhyas bowed again and I winked at them. Lenora hid a smile as they slipped away.

  “You weren’t good enough in the Arena today,” Kreeshna told me reproachfully, immersing her naked body in a little cascade of water that flowed from the rock. Her chocolate-colored skin glowed with golden reflections, her dark hair braided to one side. I walked over to her and her perfume was enough to leave me in a daze. Part of me hated that vulnerability, but I had to play along if I wanted to maintain control.

  I stroked her neck with my nose. “My opponent was fighting with the power of Witch’s blood in his body.”

  “If you want my lymphe you’ll have to earn it, Child of Eve,” she said sternly. “Children of Eve” was the name the Witches used for those of my bloodline. We Subterraneans were descendants of the children Eve had hidden from God since she hadn’t yet purified them in the sacred river. For this offense, we were condemned to ferrying mortal souls to Eden—one of the reasons Witches and Subterraneans were mortal enemies. The Witches wanted those souls for themselves.

  “I thought I was already doing that,” I whispered against her lips. Every Witch claimed a certain number of Subterraneans for herself, but she chose only one of them as her Champion. Then she would offer him her blood so he would battle to the death for her. Kreeshna had never designated me as her Champion, though she had claimed me. This made her my Amìsha—and me her slave. One of the many.

  She continued to send me out to do battle despite the fact that I had never won an Opalion. I didn’t have a chance against the other Witches’ Champions who had been allowed to drink their lymphe. No other substance could rival its extraordinary effects. During the Games, the Witches manipulated their Champions by means of the infected blood running through their veins. They gave them more strength, made them more cunning . . . they controlled them. Anything, as long as it meant triumphing over the other members of the Sisterhood. It was all just one endless competition among them.

  The Witches’ blood was their most powerful weapon for subduing us, and we yearned for even a single drop. A taste of paradise, they said. Some of her Sisters offered it more readily, even to prisoners, when they wanted to have fun. But not Kreeshna. I couldn’t figure out why she kept sending me out onto the battlefield without it. She was always asking me to make more of an effort, to fight more ferociously if I really wanted her lymphe. But how could I win without the help of her power to begin with?

  Once in a while the Sisters challenged each other in the Kryadon—the Hunt—and rode their winged steeds as they tracked down the strongest warriors spawned in Hell, creatures to recruit for the Opalion. It was nothing more than preparations for the Games, a challenge, like everything else that had to do with them.

  It was impossible to hide from the Sisterhood. Some of the Damned even saw being recruited for the Games in the Arena as a privilege. They considered it a good way to die.

  The Kryadon was a point-based competition. The Sister who brought home the most dangerous plunder won the title of Witch of Honor and opened the Games in her honor at the Arena, where she could show off by sending in her chosen Champion to fight. Battles excited them. If he was worthy and won for her, incredible pleasures with his Amìsha were in store for him. The Champions had to realize that winning in the Arena had its advantages. The Witches were lusty creatures, so Opalions were held often.

  I had never really gone into battle for Kreeshna’s sake. I did it because it was fun and because it was the best way to pass my time at the Castle, apart from entertaining the Witches’ maidservants, of course. They were masters at the art of satisfying Subterraneans’ needs. The Witches used us to quench their own thirst. Somebody else had to think about us.

  My hand slid down the Witch’s body, brushing against her breasts. It slid further as the Witch closed her dark eyes, yearning for pleasure. I ran my tongue down her cleavage and she dug her gold-painted fingernails into my shoulder ecstatically. Licking her was pure torture. Satisfying her without anything in exchange was my punishment for not winning. A bittersweet punishment.

  A hiss made me freeze.

  Recognizing the sound, I stayed perfectly still. The Witch’s serpent coiled sinuously up her chest, his dark eyes staring at me threateningly. Each Sister had her own Dakor, and together the two of them formed a single being. Kreeshna smiled and her pupils lengthened, becoming identical to those of her creature. “Over the centuries, I have always chosen my Champions with great care.”

  “I can’t win a tournament if I’m fighting without lymphe.”

  “Training is the key to victory.”

  “What, is it because you still don’t think I’m worthy? Doesn’t it bother you, losing in front of your Sisters? Competition is everything for you guys, you’ve said so yourself.”

  “A defeat learned from today means a great victory accomplished tomorrow. When you have a lot of time on your hands you can afford to look at things in the long term, don’t you think?”

  “So what are your long-term plans for me?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out, Soldier.” The Witch stroked my head and grabbed my hair, biting my neck. “A Champion needs to demonstrate his strength before being chosen. And he needs to be faithful to his queen above all else,” she whispered.

  I stiffened. Had she penetrated my barriers and dug around in my mind? The Witches were masters at reading people’s thoughts, but I kept mine well protected. I would have to be more careful.

  “What makes you think I�
�m not faithful to you, my queen?”

  “I know you well, Soldier. I knew you long before you ended up here.” The Witch ran her sharp fingernail down my naked chest over my heart, leaving a red streak behind. I gritted my teeth as the poison burned my blood. Her face transformed, taking on the appearance of someone I knew well. I flinched, but quickly tried to hide how shaken I was. It was Stella, the fiancée I had lost long before.

  “Even if you continue to push me out of your mind, I know she’s still in there.”

  I balled my hands into fists. The Witch had often morphed into my long-lost love, to subjugate me completely, maybe. Or to torture me, because despite everything my grief over losing Stella had never faded. Though I continued to surround myself with girls, no one had ever filled the void she’d left. Stella had died on Earth decades earlier, slaughtered during World War II where I’d also died as a young man and been transformed into a Subterranean.

  “That’s it, that’s the fire I’m looking for,” she went on. “I see it in your eyes, feel it flowing through your veins when you look at the face of this mortal woman.” With her nails she traced a path over the mark of the Subterraneans on my arm. “This is the ardor a Champion feels for his queen.”

  Overcome by the sensations, I moved closer to the Witch and kissed her, pretending it really was Stella. Kreeshna was right: heat burned in my chest at the thought of actually having her there with me, but it was just a lie. Stella was a distant memory that I had never let go of. Again, I clenched my fists. I had to be careful. The Witch had bedazzled me, but I had to cling to reason and not lose control unless I wanted to end up a prisoner in one of their dungeons. With them, everything was a test.

  I broke away from her and looked her steadily in the eye. “You don’t need to change your appearance to bring me closer to you. There’s no creature more beautiful in all the kingdom,” I lied. “There might have been a time when I rejected you, but now I have no desire other than to serve you.”

  The Witch bought my bullshit and broke the spell. Her appearance changed back to normal. “I’m so happy you succumbed to me. It was a wise decision.”

  I kissed her shoulder as fiery rage burned inside my chest. “You’ve taken my soul, you know that. I’m yours. Let me fight as your Champion.”

  The Witch relaxed at the touch of my hands on her body. “You’re definitely moving in the right direction.” Kreeshna moaned, her longing evident, then put her hand on my head and pushed me down. She rested one foot on my shoulder, opening herself to my kisses. “Don’t stop. Don’t run from me.”

  “I would never run from you, my lady,” I told her, fawning.

  The steam rising from the water surrounded us, filling the air with a spicy aroma. I hated her but loved her at the same time, addled as I was by her power. It was the promise of her blood that had that effect on me. It would give me my strength back. Maybe it would even give me back the powers I had lost when I arrived there. The only problem was that I risked losing myself in her. I shook my head, trying to liberate myself from her spell. By surrendering to Kreeshna I had allowed her to enter my soul.

  A ghastly sound echoed off the walls of the grotto, making a swarm of black butterflies flutter away from the ceiling and scatter through the cavern. It was the Sisters’ horn. One of them was announcing the start of the Kryadon.

  Lenora rushed in, out of breath, to tend to her mistress, who pushed me away as a suit of armor materialized on her shoulders and head. The metal helmet looked like a prolongation of the tattoo that was spreading over her face. It made her look like a butterfly, especially the pointy antennas.

  “Make do with the privilege of serving me, Child of Eve,” she replied. She grabbed the weapons the Mizhya was holding out to her: two short-handled whips, their leather straps trimmed with nails. A flick of her wrist and they burned into my skin, forcing me down, my palms on the ground. I gritted my teeth to keep myself from reacting. Her serpent hissed and lunged toward me. Maybe the beast could sense the hatred I was emanating.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The rest of the armor formed over the Witch’s body. “We’ll meet again soon, Child of Eve. I’m going out to win the Hunt. That way you can die in the Opalion for me . . . yet again,” she said provocatively. The sadist. With that, she disappeared.

  “I can’t wait,” I muttered sarcastically. My eyes met her maidservant’s. She looked sorry for me.

  How much longer would I have to keep up the charade? Was it really worth it, being treated like a filthy slave? Sooner or later I would have my revenge on Kreeshna. All I needed was to feed off her blood. Then I would annihilate her. Her and all her Sisters. I had to resist.

  I smiled to myself.

  Until that moment came, there were two young ladies waiting for me in the East Wing.

  2

  The Castle Walls

  I sneaked up the long, narrow stairway leading to the roof of the tallest tower. It hadn’t been hard to go unobserved. The Witches had all left to take part in the Kryadon and the only people around were Mizhyas and other claimed Subterraneans. I had even crossed the inner courtyard, where an army of Mizhyas were training in what looked like an actual battle. From there, various wings of the Castle, joined by tall, ominous-looking towers, could be reached. During the Games, the courtyard morphed into an amphitheater and the magic began. Though the flooring inside the Circle constantly changed, growing smaller and transforming itself, their macabre symbol was always present at its center, interwoven with that of the Subterraneans like an ancient threat. It was a sign of their power and their supremacy over our race.

  There were ten Witches at the Castle, all as sexy and gorgeous as they were evil and deadly. Camelia was the most eccentric and sensual, with hair that often changed color; Nausyka, her silver hair streaked with black, was the most capricious; Anya the wisest. There was Zafirah, with violet eyes and short, curly hair; Nerea with yellow eyes and blond hair spotted like leopard fur; Zhora with big green eyes; and Bathsheeva, the golden-eyed warrior with a long ebony ponytail. Each of them was pure evil. Then there was Sophìa, the Empress of the Underworld. The devil in person, to be exact. I hadn’t run into her very often. She was a bizarre, eccentric creature. Even more than her Sisters, I mean. She wore sumptuous, close-fitting black gowns that suddenly changed their appearance since they were made of live butterflies, her precious black Souls. When she wasn’t present, her Specter took command of the Castle. That role belonged to Devina and I had no doubt as to why. She was the most malicious Witch of all the Sisters, an even bigger bitch than Kreeshna. The devil’s perfect right-hand woman. Rumor had it that Sophìa loved to stay in her secret refuge for long periods of time, sorting through the Souls that the Witches had collected on Earth during the Reaping. The Souls arrived at the Castle in the form of black butterflies and the Empress divided them up based on their sins, giving each the punishment they deserved. Then she released them, leaving them to the cruel mercies of Hell. Only the strongest survived the trials of the Copse.

  Nope, I had no intention of finding out what was out there. I was fine right where I was.

  Whenever Kreeshna wielded her superiority over me, the blood boiled in my veins and I wondered whether I was doing the right thing. Then I would try to focus on the advantages, like I was doing right now. I would rather pretend to be subjugated than rot in a prison cell. The cool air atop the tower confirmed that thought. It was like finally emerging from a catacomb. It felt like freedom.

  “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

  I turned toward the voice. Khetra was above me, sitting on one of the black stone battlements crowning the tower. We were by the stables reserved for the Sauruses, the winged lions that looked kind of like black dragons. The Witches rode them through the skies of Hell. The massive stalls were empty now, which was why the Mizhyas were standing guard. Normally the Witches’ steeds watched over that section of the Castle.

  I leaned over the edge to see what was on the other side. The to
wer was so tall nothing could be seen in the darkness of the void below. “Guess you’re not afraid of heights.”

  “Looks like you are, though. You’re pretty pale.” Khetra jumped down and landed next to me. She ran her fingers through my hair, undoing my ponytail, and kissed me passionately.

  “You don’t waste any time,” I murmured with a grin.

  “I want to take what I want before my mistress comes back and chops off my head.”

  I pushed her against the wall and this time I was the one who kissed her. “You like danger. You’re lucky because I like it too.”

  “You throw a party and don’t wait for all the guests to arrive?” Lenora’s head peeked over the Castle wall. She climbed over it nimbly and jumped down beside us.

  “How the hell . . . ?” I murmured, stunned. The tower was incredibly high. She couldn’t have climbed it with her bare hands. The Mizhya smiled and threw two daggers in my direction. They lodged in the wall behind me. I admired them, finally understanding: they had hooks on them.

  “I wasn’t trying to cheat you out of anything. We were just warming up,” Khetra told her.

  I pulled one of the daggers from the wall and studied it. “Is climbing tall, perilous castle walls your favorite pastime?”

  She snatched it out of my hand. “Patrolling the Castle walls is my duty. As for pastimes, I prefer far different things.” She went to Khetra and kissed her ardently.

  I smiled. “The party’s getting more exciting.” Both the Mizhyas claimed me, pulling me towards them by my waistband. Two aroused girls risking their lives for me. Like I said, the Castle wasn’t such a bad place after all.

  Lenora’s eyes didn’t leave mine as she pulled another dagger out of a sheath strapped to her thigh. Man, was she armed.

  “Babe, I like danger, but what do you mean to do with that?” I asked with alarm.

  “Don’t worry, I come in peace.” She slid her fingers into the now-free sheath and pulled out a long vial. It was metal, so there was no way to see what was in it, but I would’ve bet my balls it was red.