Page 1 of His Dark Delights
Chapter One
Lilly
Thunder boomed over the mountain range towering over my humble farm like jagged monstrous teeth jutting up from the earth. Worsening in the nights leading up to the rainy season. Years in the mountain’s shadow eased me into the trembling in the ground and lightning crackling in the mountain’s peaks. Though lately the mountain shuddered with brutal eruptions of thunder, as if during dark days and even blacker nights, a battle raged in the distant hills. And I sat helplessly on the cusp.
Or maybe storms were worse without Father’s presence, warm and attentive, sitting with me by the fire and a cup of tea.
Distracting myself from idle somberness, I inhaled the floral scent of spring flowers endlessly in bloomin the meadow behind my home, perfuming the air. Arms spread wide under the weakening golden rays of midday sunlight; I soaked in the symphony of spring. Sweet flowers, crisp grass, damp soil all filled my lungs, working to ease the prickly knot between my ribs.
A field of verdant grasses and vibrant wildflowers reached my knees, tickling my fingertips as I strolled along. The woods across the meadow rustled with tittering birds and squirrels chasing one another through the boughs. And beyond the forest, a gray storm churned, threatening to spread in my direction. A creeping rot across the sky.
Undeterred by the weather, birds chirped cheerful notes overhead. My gaze followed their flight path across the meadow to the farm animals grazing in the pasture across a slim creek. With skirts lifted, I padded barefoot through the silken grass teasing my ankles and leapt over the burbling creek to the pasture. I followed the crystal water that flowed from the forest, through the meadow and behind the cottage where Father raised me.
The awaiting herd greeted me upon my return. First, a black spotted cow who lifted her massive head and blinked at me. Goats and chickens meandered through the grass as the spotted heifer swayed toward me.
“Millie-Moo!” I slung my arms around her neck and nuzzled my face against her. “Come on, Millie, let’s go foraging before the rain comes.”
“Moo.” She returned the nudge.
“Yes, I’m thinking of mushroom stew for dinner.” Turning on the other animals, I wagged a finger in warning. “Now you all behave while we’re gone! Thatmeans you’re in charge, Hilda,” I said to a plump, plucky hen. “Keep them in line!”
Around the side of a dilapidated barn half sinking into itself, I collected a burlap saddlebag my father made long ago. I slung it over Millie’s rump as Father used to do when we foraged in the woods. Huffing a soft breath, I grasped the rope around the cow’s neck and her bell rang with each step toward the edge of the woods.
Buttery shafts of light penetrated the canopy overhead, dappling the narrow path along the stream. Millie and I kept to the path, enjoying the occasional clink of her bell, breaking up the whispering melody of the forest. All things green and colorful in the natural world spoke to me, an unheard language in my blood. A gift from half my heritage, and one I cherished.
Not long into our ramble, a familiar clump of green appeared around a bend. “Wild onions! Those will go well with stew.”
“Moo.” Millie dipped her head into the grass while I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. After tucking away a handful of small pearl onions, I swiped the perspiration from my brow and moved on, Millie in tow. We strolled further into the trees, drifting away from the stream. Time passed in a pleasant blur as I foraged mushrooms and wild herbs until I’d filled the bag, and my hands smelled of fresh earth. Dirt clung to my nails and stained the grooves of my fingers, connecting me to the roots and vines growing into the ground.
Creeping shadows reached over the land, stretching far and wide as the sun breathed a last sigh and gave way to the kiss of night. It wasn’t until I glanced up from a rosemary bush that I noted how awfully dark the woods had grown. A noxious chill unlike anything I’dfelt before dripped down the length of my spine.
An asphyxiating silence from the trees set my teeth on edge. I jerked up, shivering from the whispering leaves and scrape of branches. Gentle sounds on the outside, a hum through the woods at dusk. Yet a frantic rattling from within, a scream from the core of the trees.
A warning from the forest.
“Something is wrong, Millie. We must leave. Now.” Goosebumps flared along my arms and my heart rate spiked with the hitch of my breath. A crow vaulted from the treetops, cawing madly and snatching a yelp from my lips.
I flung myself at Millie. She mooed, hovering over my hunched form. Gasping for a steadier breath, I patted her neck self-soothingly. “I’m alright. Merely startled. Let’s go home.”
Claws of anxiety collared my throat, slowing my movements as we ambled to the nearby gurgle of the stream. Careful steps meant nothing to trembling legs. A hard object caught my foot and sent me careening forward. I cried out, barely catching myself on hands and knees. When I jerked around, a glint of silvery blue and red peeked through the shadows.
A blood-curdling scream punched through my lips at the sight of dented metal and viscous, fresh blood leaking through gaps of mud smeared armor. The awkwardly sprawled out, armor-clad body sat as a horrid testament to a war I no longer had the luxury of avoiding. Blatantly dying in front of my face, the truth of a realm torn apart by prejudice and brutality that I had no power to navigate.
A barely audible groan escaped the crevices of thecrooked helmet. My hands dropped from my lips, eyes flaring wide. Squashing down a renewed fluttering in my chest, I crawled over the damp soil to inspect the wounded man—a knight; I presumed.
“He’s alive!” Barely perceptible in the dimming light, a slight rise and fall of the chest proved a struggle to breathe but breathe all the same. Unfamiliar with armor but determined, I unfastened the bulky bits of silver-blue metal and leather straps. Near silent pained grunts breached him as I struggled to maneuver his bulky frame.
But his breaths came easier without the additional weight.
Once stripped down to his mostly shredded underclothes, the knight vented a thin, ragged sigh of relief. Though dirty and torn, the high quality of his clothing tantalized my fingers. I’d never felt a material so fine in all my life. My perusal revealed flesh visibly paled from blood loss or blotched by drying crimson.
An indiscernible mumble drew my attention to his face. My breath lodged in my throat. Black and blue bruises marbled his face. Yet he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid my eyes on. Sticky blood streaked short, dark hair and flattened curls into bloodied waves. A layer of stubble dressed his strong, sculpted jawline and partially hid the slight on his chin. Full lips parted in a wheezing grimace, showing off the perfect bow shape of his mouth.
An unnamed internal force drove me to brush my fingers over his cheek. Cold on the surface, but a latent warmth beneath called to me. Not dead. But soon if not tended to.
Something akin to a sigh passed through him, andunconsciously, his head pressed into my touch. Rough stubble and a weak breath tickled my palm. I snatched my hand away from his face before springing to my feet.
“We must help him, Millie,” I said, eyeing the heifer shuffling and kicking up dirt. As anxious as I felt.
