Page 3 of The Darkest Knight

Chapter Two

The darkness enveloped Niall and he fought against it with all his might. Clawlike fingers reached for him, raking into his skin, tearing his flesh away from muscle and bone, leaving a stinging trail of pain down his legs, back and arms.

Laughter echoed, bouncing off the dirty, vermin-infested cell. The sound rang in his ears until he thought he’d scream.

The time had come. He had gone mad. He’d finally lost his mind, and he almost welcomed it.

Would the unfairness of his life go with him into the madness that enveloped him? Would the memories remain unscathed?

At the moment, he not only remembered everything he wanted to forget, but each single memory was magnified. Each painful experience of his past so real it was worse than any physical pain.

The assault abruptly ended, and he collapsed on the dirt floor, his breathing labored. Without warning, an invisible, vise-like hold tightened around his body pinning him against the damp, muddy wall.

What was left of his ragged, bloody clothing was torn from his body before the hold loosened, and once again Niall crumpled onto the floor.

Naked as a newborn babe, he inched back into a corner, straining both eyes and ears.

Finally, light from a torch flickered in the distance and moved closer. A woman appeared. She was dressed in light, flowing clothing which contrasted sharply against the muck and dirt of the dungeons. She seemed to glide toward his cell, passing the iron bars as if they didn’t exist.

The smell that reminded him of burning cedar and fragrant lilies assaulted his nose.

“Look at me Niall.” Her voice vibrated with anger. Her black eyes pierced his when he lifted his gaze. “It doesn’t have to be like this every time. You can just give yourself to me willingly.” Her lips curved into a smile that was somehow more malevolent than when she sneered. “Our encounters would be so much more enjoyable for you.”

Niall struggled to his feet backing against the corner of the dirty, stinking cell. Despite the fact the woman always won, he would never stop fighting.

Despite the suffering his actions brought, her obvious sting at being rejected was enough of a reward.

Whatever she was, witch or demon, Devina, as she called herself, was as beautiful as she was evil.

Not long after arriving in the alter-world, during one of Meliot’s quests, he’d come across Devina. The demon had pretended to need rescue, and to his ill-luck, he’d been the one to take her upon his steed and ride to where she lived. Since that fated day, she’d bewitched him with a powerful spell, binding him to her.

“Full of chatter as usual, Lover?” She closed the distance and ran a long fingernail down the center of his chest.

“I am speaking to you!” Devina screamed and when he remained silent, slapped him hard across the face. “Do you have any idea how many males desire me? And yet, you act as if being near me is a burden.”

With a huff, she motioned two large males he’d not seen arrive to come forward. “Ensure that he learns not to ignore me when I speak to him.” Her eyes slid slowly over his body, hesitating on his limp cock. She arched a brow. “I’ll see you in my chamber.” She moved away, taking the torch and his ability to see with her.

Grunts told him her henchmen moved closer, and he held his fists up, prepared to fight. When the first lash of the whip struck, the sting shocked him. The second and third hit in rapid succession. He was at a disadvantage. They could see in the dark.

The lashings continued until darkness claimed him.

Niall woke to find he was on Devina’s bed, satin sheets covered his nakedness. The sound of liquid being poured made his mouth water, and he turned his head to see that she was standing next to the bed, pouring a glass of wine.

Without offering him a drink, she took a long swallow, her eyes raking over his chest. He glanced down knowing not a mark from his torture would be evident. Devina didn’t like any visible marks on him. Her magic always left him perfectly healed without even a scar after his time in the dungeons.

“Will you make love to me today?” Always the same question, and he never answered. Instead, he looked away, studying the ever-changing décor of the room. Today the walls were blood red, the bed coverings black as night. A statue of Venus, with her eyes blindfolded, was evidence of Devina’s mood.

When he was about to ask for water, she pinned him with her gaze and slowly removed the sash that held her robe in place and allowed the silky fabric to fall from her shoulders. He turned away, refusing to acknowledge the evil woman. She laughed, a shrill, mirthless sound. “What is the matter, Lover? You don’t appreciate what most men would give an eye tooth for?”

An invisible forced pulled his arms up over his head. Sashes manifested, wrapping around his wrists and the headboard. Another set appeared at his ankles, his legs spread as the fabric was tied to opposing bedposts.

He struggled against the restraints, but only half-heartedly, hoping to save his energy to fight against her.

Devina climbed on the bed, and straddled him, sitting on his thighs. “How about we play pretend?” She held up a black sash, her dark eyes twinkling mischievously. She blindfolded him and waited a few beats. “I am her, the one you desire.”

A vision of a petite blonde woman slammed into his mind, and he was so astounded he let out a gasp. What trick was this?

When he didn’t harden, the demon screeched with rage. “All you have to do is give yourself to me, then you will be free. Just do it!” her furious screech made his ears ring.