Lord of the Dark (19 page)

Gideon was too dazed to make it out. He couldn’t concentrate upon that. He needed all his wits about him to withstand the demon’s seduction, for it was his greatest test yet. Shaking himself like a dog, he tried to rise. The voices were screaming inside his skull. Who were they? What did they want?

“Rhiannon,” he murmured. “Take me to Rhiannon….”

“Ah, yes, Rhiannon,” the demon said, her name rolling off his tongue with a flourish. It sounded obscene when he spoke it. “You aren’t ready. You need to rest and order yourself. You need time to mull over my little proposition first.” He bent, secured the chain in his hand to something hidden in the ground-creeping fog, then stood and began to strut, preening like a dandy. “You will find this place much more comfortable than the bramble mire where I found you. Stretch out and…relax. Relieve yourself.” He gestured toward the obvious. “That there is crying for attention. I honestly do not know how you’ve stood it all these years, but you needn’t much longer. One word from you and all that will end. Join with me, and you shall have control of your body again…and your Rhiannon. Meanwhile, I shall entertain her. I’ve neglected her shamefully since your arrival, and that won’t do. Innocents are such a rarity here. But have no fear. I shall see to it personally that
all
her needs are met…while you decide, um?”

“And if I decline your invitation?” Gideon asked.

“I think you know the answer to that, Lord of the Dark. Now then! Take all the time you need. Rest assured that while you wrestle with your answer, your Rhiannon is in good hands, um?”

Gideon got to his feet and staggered to the end of his tether. It jerked him to a standstill, and he grabbed the chain, only to cry out as it seared his hands again. The odor of burnt flesh rushed up his nostrils from his smoking palms, and he threw the chain down.

“Ravelle, wait!” he called out. “
Wait,
damn you!”

“Too late for that!” the demon twittered. “Think carefully before you decide. It shouldn’t take you long, considering. Meanwhile, I’ll see that our Rhiannon isn’t bored, hm?”

Gideon called out again, but there was no answer from the thick, milling fog. Ravelle was gone.

R
hiannon crouched in a dark corner of the chamber where Ravelle had left her. It was well appointed, part of a castle-like complex that she assumed to be his stronghold. Why had she fallen asleep in Gideon’s arms? Why hadn’t she remained vigilant? The demon had taken her captive so easily. What was he doing to Gideon? She had screamed until her throat was hoarse and pounded on the chamber door until she’d scraped her knuckles raw, but there was no answer. She was alone, in a strange, dark, and evil place at the mercy of the keeper of Outer Darkness, and she was terrified.

She fingered the filmy gown the demon had given her. It was coal black like the atmosphere, spun of some anonymous stuff that sparkled like black diamonds and hid none of her charms. Strange little creatures, neither male nor female, like those carved in the stone of the cold hearth holding up the mantel, stripped away the old tattered shift the dryads had spun for her in the astral and helped her into the dusky frock. The winged imps dressed her hair with a wreath of petrified berries and blackened twigs that shot out from its circumference like rain glancing off a spinning wheel. A gauze veil that matched her frock fell from the circlet over the loose plait the creatures had fashioned in her hair that nearly reached the hem of the garment. Rhiannon detested the veil. It reminded her of a macabre bridal headdress. She hadn’t missed the lecherous gleam in the satyr’s reptilian eyes as he took her into his charge. Those eyes had undressed her, lingering expectantly upon her naked breasts. His lascivious gaze had chilled her so severely her nipples had hardened. Could he have taken the reaction as arousal? If he had, he was a fool, for she recoiled from his very presence. It was afterward that he’d summoned the imps, their pudgy arms loaded down with the makings of her present toilette, and she hadn’t missed the lustful look he’d given the rest of her, raking her from head to toe, those glowing eyes lingering upon her pubic mound.

After they’d dressed her, the imps had locked her inside the vast chamber and left her, disappearing into the shadows. That was some time ago, and her terror that something horrible was happening to Gideon had nearly driven her mad.

The rasp of a key turning in the door lock spun her toward it, and she snatched a silver candle branch from the table and held it at the ready, her breath suspended as the door slowly opened.

“Do not throw that,” Ravelle’s velvet voice warned as he entered. “You cannot hurt me, and you will only hurt yourself…in more ways than one.”

“Let me out of here!” Rhiannon demanded. “Where is Gideon? What have you done with him?”

“He is resting,” the demon said, coming nearer, his cloven hooves ringing on the slate floor. “I’ve made him a very enticing proposition, and given him time to mull it over. There’s no question, really, but just in case he doesn’t realize that, I may need you to help me convince him.”

“I won’t help you with anything!” Rhiannon shrilled, brandishing the candle branch. “Come no nearer! I’m warning you, I have true aim!”

The demon breathed a gusty sigh. “How tiresome!” he said. “My lady, I cannot be killed. I cannot even be seriously injured, least of all by that! You look the fool in that ritual toilette wielding a candle branch.” He glanced toward the table she’d snatched it from. Great silver salvers and bowls were set there heaped with food—all sorts of exotic fruit bursting with sweet juices. There were slabs of creamy cheese set out on great dewy leaves, joints of beef and mutton, platters of larded fowl and potted meats, as well as warm, crusty bread and crystal decanters filled with rich, red wine. Rhiannon had touched none of it, and the demon’s eyebrow lifted. “You must be starving,” he said. “Why have you not availed yourself?”

“I…I want none of your food,” Rhiannon said. “Stand back, I say!”

The demon chuckled. “Silly chit,” he warbled. “Eating my food can’t harm you. This isn’t the astral, where the fay capture with food. This is
Outer Darkness!
The worst has already happened to you, my dear. It doesn’t matter what you eat anymore.”

“I want nothing from you…nothing but Gideon. Take me to him at once!”

Ravelle had come close enough to wrest the candle branch from her, and he did so with flourish, and set it down upon the table. “Have done!” he snapped. “I mean only to tell you what I’ve told him…in case he needs persuading. If convincing is in order that might be best coming from you than me, that’s all.”

Rhiannon gave it thought, but she wasn’t ready to take Ravelle at his word. She’d heard too many tales of Outer Darkness to trust its keeper, despite his syrupy voice and seemingly innocent, albeit frightening, demeanor.

“If Gideon is not convinced of whatever you’ve proposed on his own my opinion won’t sway him, nor should it. He is lord in these matters. You waste your time with me.”

“Well, it’s my time to waste, and you are a captive audience, so you may as well indulge me. I have asked your Gideon to join forces and rule jointly with me here, you, of course, would be part of that equation.”

“And he refused you?” Rhiannon said buoyantly. “I knew he would. He would
never
consent to rule here with you.”

“One must never say never, my lady. I told you I made him an enticing proposal. I even gave him a little demonstration.”

Rhiannon’s curiosity was piqued. She couldn’t imagine what Ravelle had offered Gideon that he would have to contemplate. “What sort of demonstration?” she asked.

“I simply showed him how it would be if his wings no longer plunged him into unstoppable lust when touched. I gave him a moment of freedom from the curse that has damned him to live with perpetual arousal. I have the power to do that…and so much more.”

He sauntered closer. How grotesque he was with his goatlike body covered with fur from the waist down, and muscular torso roped with sinewy bands. He was clean shaven, his hair curling about his earlobes, accentuating a face all angles and planes, and eyes coal black, like onyx chips, with vertical pupils the color of saffron. Lights from a hearth fire gleamed off his horns. When had a fire been lit? She gasped. The carved imps that had stood mute, their plump arms holding up the mantel, had come to life. She gasped again. They were chucking more wood on the fire and stirring old embers to life with pokers. Cold chills riddled her spine. She hadn’t been alone at all. They had been there watching her all the while!

More appeared. They had formed a ring around her. Some were poking and probing like curious children, others were lifting the skirt of her frock, ducking their heads beneath. Still others were playing with her long, plaited hair. When one of the creatures slid its hand up the inside of her thigh and grabbed her pubic curls, she screamed and swatted it away.

Ravelle seized the imp by its tail and flung it across the room. A roar like nothing she had ever heard dispersed the others. Seeing her chance, Rhiannon bolted. Streaking past the roaring demon, past the imps swarming every which way, she careened into the eerie, perpetual darkness.

She hadn’t gone far when the satyr’s hand fisted in her plaited hair jerked her to a standstill. “I’m losing my patience!” he snapped close in her ear. “Where do you think you could get to that I—the ruler of this place—could not find you, eh? Foolish chit! You would do well to cooperate. You will not like the consequences of rebellion, my lady!”

“If you want my cooperation, needs must you earn it!” she snapped back. “Keep those…those creatures away from me!”

“That was regrettable,” the demon said in retrospect. “They are what they are, but no more precocious than curious children. There are many such…creatures here. Unfortunately, they rarely see one such as you. Once Gideon becomes my partner and you are established as our consort, they will remain in their place.”

“‘Our’ consort?” Rhiannon breathed. “Is that part of your proposition?”

The demon spun her around in his arms and cupped her breast, the long, talon-like nail on his thumb plucking her nipple. “Yes,” he hissed, “it is. Why else would I have robed you in wedding attire? We will share you. You will have the best of both worlds. All that remains is to convince the Lord of the Dark of the benefits of an alliance with me.”

Rhiannon gripped her headdress and flung it to the ground. “I would rather be dead!” she cried, twisting in his arms. He was aroused, his huge member terrifying in its length and breadth as he forced it against her.

The demon laughed at her reaction. “Nature provides the goat, the horse, and other of her beasts with anatomy equal to the challenge their lack of agility in coitus denies them. The extra length makes rogering a female possible. Magnificent, is it not?”

Rhiannon twisted away, but the demon held her fast, forcing her hand against his erection. “Let me go!” she shrilled, resisting.

Ravelle jerked her to a standstill. “Another demonstration,” he said, as the penis he’d forced against her hand went flaccid. “Unlike your Gideon, I am able to control my urges, which sets me apart from animals of his ilk.”

“Gideon is not an animal!” Rhiannon defended.

“He is the animal the gods have made of him. Compared with mine, his powers are weak now, but an alliance with me will change all that. Once we are joined, you will have the best we each have to offer, and he will have freedom from the curse that has crippled him since time out of mind. Then his gifts will be as they were before he fell from grace, and together we will be invincible!”

“You are mad!” Rhiannon shrilled, trying to break free.

He paid no mind, dragging her along a dark path through what looked like trees that had been burned. “I cannot fly,” he said. “He will be my eyes aloft to travel the length and breadth of Outer Darkness. Others would usurp me. They hatch plots against me, but with his eyes keeping watch where I cannot, all that will cease. Meanwhile, I will keep vigil in places where his wings prohibit him entrance. It is a perfect plan, and you…oh, you, my lovely, you are the prize to keep us both sated!” He shoved her hand against his groin again. “You have no idea what pleasures this fine cock will give you!”

Rhiannon wrenched her hand free and dug in her heels. “Let go!” she cried. “I want to see Gideon! What have you done with him?
No!
Where are you taking me?”

“You waste your breath. You will see your Gideon, but first, a revel to get you in the mood while he mulls over my proposition.”

But Rhiannon refused to go quietly to whatever a
revel
was by this creature’s standards, and the satyr soon had enough sparing. Hoisting her over his shoulder, he ignored her kicking feet and pummeling fists, and strode along fondling her buttocks through the flimsy gown.

He gave a throaty chuckle. “You were far better off on two feet, weren’t you?” he chided. “Umm, I like a round, firm ass.” Hoisting her skirt, he reached beneath and stroked her bare behind. “Soft as a rose petal,” he crooned, running his hand over one globe and the crack between. “Has he rutted you yet?” he queried, spreading her legs apart and plunging his forefinger the length of her slit. “Ah, yes! So he has, and saved me the trouble. Breaching maidenheads is a tiresome business. I used to enjoy the conquest, but alas, no more. Patience ebbs away with time. Besides, whomever I take is like a virgin whether she has been rutted or no, for considering my size, it will be as if I draw first blood in any case reaming that tight little quim. Ah, yes, indeed! My cock will find a happy home in you, my lady. If you must play the martyr, as you females are so often wont to do, justify our union, yours and mine, as a means to end your Gideon’s torment, for once we align—all three—he will be set free of the curse of libidinous lust that holds him captive now.”

Rhiannon didn’t speak, nor did she fight him then, not while his taloned finger was probing her nether lips from clitoris to anus. Thus far it was an absent probing. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. He had not penetrated her. To anger him now might cause what horror she could barely imagine, and so she scarcely breathed as he strode on through the darkness, his cloven hooves clopping on the ground that seemed more mire than solid path.

It wasn’t long before they reached a vast pavilion wreathed with tents where revelers were indulging in all manner of decadent activities. The satyr took her into the Great Hall, where wine flowed from fountains connected to great vats housed along a gallery below the domed ceiling. There, an elaborate skylight filled the span. Tables set about were heaped with food to overflowing with the mundane, such as joints of beef and roast mutton and lamb, to the exotic specimens of braised dormouse, hummingbird’s tongues in aspic, and steamed elvers, which she could never abide as creatures much less food, to name but a few. She shuddered. The air was putrid with the stench of old fermentation, cooking grease, urine, and stale come. Rhiannon gagged, and the demon lifted her down, with a firm grip on her long, plaited hair, and led her into the thick of what appeared to be an orgy in progress.

Naked and half-naked men and women, imps, satyrs, and all manner of species, one more hideous than the next, were coupled in a ménage of entwined bodies impossible to define by gender. There was no modesty here. Males whose naked members were at different stages of arousal prowled the throngs in search of females not already engaged with one or more partners, while screams of pleasure and pain rang from the rafters.

Ravelle gave the reins he’d made of Rhiannon’s long plait to an idle imp reclining upon sumptuous pillows in the center of the room. “Hold on to this,” he charged the creature. “You may look, but do not touch.”