Ensnared by the Dream Lord (Dark Lords) Read online

  Dark Lords 3:

  ENSNARED BY THE DREAM LORD

  By

  Jaide Fox

  (c) copyright Jaide Fox, reissued December 2012

  Cover art by Eliza Black, (c) copyright December 2012

  Valdosta, GA 31602

  www.jaidefoxbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Other titles by Jaide Fox:

  Shadowmere Book One: Marked by the Beast

  Dark Lords 1: Captured by the Dark Lord

  Dark Lords 2: Seized by the Vampire Lord

  Dark Lords 3: Ensnared by the Dream Lord

  Intergalactic Mayhem: Intergalactic Bad Boys

  Intergalactic Mayhem: Intergalactic Pain in the Ass

  Demon Huntress Book One: Sacrificed

  Summoner’s Captive

  Earth Girls Aren’t Easy

  His Forbidden Fruit

  Night Shade

  Sexdroids

  The Sky Fox

  Archangel

  Captured by Aliens: Alien Captive

  Chapter One

  Adriana Bordeaux longed to be rescued from her prison.

  She’d been locked in the tower since her sisters, Bianca and Cerise, had been stolen away by the unnaturals. Her father, devastated by the loss of two of his daughters, was determined that he was going to protect his only remaining child from the dark and dread forces that lived in Hellsing wood beyond their borders, but in doing so, he was protecting her from any life at all.

  She yearned for a life of her own with a longing that bordered on desperation. It had become so painful to her that she could think of little else. Even the books that had given her so much pleasure in the beginning no longer did. Instead, she spent her days searching for the knowledge that might free her.

  The day came when she found a very old and tattered book of legends among those that had been brought to her. She knew her father could not know that it was among the books chosen for her, else she would not have had it, for the book told tales of those very creatures from the dark woods of Hellsing from which her father was so determined to protect her. She hid it whenever he visited her, but in the evenings when she was alone in her lonely tower room, she would take it out and read it once more.

  One story spoke to her more than any other, lifting her spirits, giving her hope when she had begun to feel that there was no hope for her. It was the legend of the guardian of dreams, the Lord of the Night, Morpheus Dragunas.

  According to the legend, if a maiden who was pure in every way petitioned the lord of the night, he would be compelled to come to her and grant her heart’s desire. She knew that it was not something her father wanted for her, and yet she also knew that she had to live her own life.

  She feared, though, that she would not be found worthy. She was guilty of envy for the love her sisters had found, and she was guilty of disobeying her father. Perhaps she was not pure enough to summon Morpheus?

  Still, she couldn’t think that it would hurt to try. If he did not come, she would be no worse off than before.

  Doubt filled her when she thought of father. If the Lord of the Night answered her pleas it might well break her father’s heart. She didn’t want that, but she needed something for herself. Surely, once he saw that she was happy, he would understand what all parents had to learn in time, that when their children grew up, they had need of their own life, to live it as they saw fit.

  As she read the story, over and over again, she wavered back and forth, fearing she would break her father’s heart, hoping that she could summon Morpheus and he would grant her heart’s desire, fearing that he would find her unworthy and not come to her at all. Finally, she decided to see if Morpheus would come to her.

  Kneeling before her tower window, she lifted her arms in supplication to the heavens and cried out, “Come to me, lord of the night! Come to me, Morpheus, I beg of you, and grant me my heart’s desire.”

  She sat in front of the window for a very long time, so long her back began to ache and her knees, and still there was no sign of Morpheus, lord of the night. “Please,” she murmured hopelessly. “I know I’m not worthy, but I do try so hard to be good, and I’m so desperately lonely. I need a husband and a family of my own.”

  She had no idea how long she sat beneath her window after she had uttered her final, desperate plea, but the moon had moved across the sky, and she knew it was growing very late. Finally, she rose stiffly, moved across the tower room, and crawled into her cold and lonely bed.

  Adriana was despondent the next morning when she awoke, for even as she closed her eyes, she had hoped that Morpheus would visit her in her dreams. That he did not seemed an indication that she was not pure enough to summon him.

  In her heart, she assured herself, she had known that he wouldn’t, but she found she simply could not give up. He was her only hope. Night after night, she knelt beside her window, calling to him, fighting the tears that streamed down her cheeks, and dripped cold droplets on her night dress.

  * * * *

  Morpheus Dragunas massaged his throbbing temples. Night after night, he heard the call without cease, without pity, without mercy until he thought he could not abide the torment any longer. He could not even recall the last time he had heard the summons and felt it pull at him and it infuriated him to discover after so long a time that he was still bound by the spell. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he could not.

  Knowing it was useless, that he would be compelled to go in the end, he fought it just the same. Each day he would assure himself that he had won, that he had resisted the pull and it would not trouble him further, but each night, he heard the call again, more desperate than before, and each night, the pain inside of him grew until it finally reached the point where he could no longer bear to resist the summons. He had to go.

  She would regret it, he decided as he stalked furiously from his throne room and strode down the echoing halls of his castle. When he was done with her she would not dare to summon him again, he assured himself as he stepped from the wide entrance and whistled for Despair, his night-mare.

  Despair answered with a high pitched whinny and galloped from his pasture, snorting and breathing fire, no more pleased to be summoned than was Morpheus. Catching the night-mare’s mane of fire, Morpheus leapt onto his back and rowled him into motion. Rearing, Despair pawed the air with his flaming hooves, then shot skyward in a burst of speed that whipped his fiery mane and tail into a frenzy.

  * * * *

  Adriana stared hopelessly at the distant horizon as the sun sank from view and the evening sky blossomed with colors. She could not even find it in her heart to enjoy the beauty of it, for she had petitioned the lord of the night for so many days that she had lost count, and still he had not come to her. Below her, she saw the servants of her father’s keep going about the final chores of the day, putting the castle to rest for the evening, laughing and joking as they anticipated their dinner and the entertainment that usually followed.

  Sighing despondently, Adriana lifted her head as the first stars winked into life above her. In the distance she saw a flicker of light. It caught her attention, and she studied it, thinking at first that it was a twinkling star, but after a time, she frowned, her curiosity thoroughly aroused. It seemed to be growing larger, or coming closer.

  As she watched, she realized that it was definitely coming closer, for she saw that it was not a star at all. There were flames streaming from it, and at the center of the flames was a dark shape. Slowly, it seemed to her, it drew clos
er and closer, and the dark shape took form, and finally became two forms. And the fire took shape and form.

  In time, she saw that it was a dark cloaked figure upon a black steed. The mane and tail and even the hooves of the dark horse seemed to be on fire.

  Adriana’s heart sped up with fear as she saw the unnatural creatures bearing down on her father’s castle like some evil spawn of hell. Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming for her, she told herself. It could not be coming for her. And yet, it was hard to convince herself that it wasn’t, when neither man nor beast looked right or left, focusing on a course that led directly to her.

  As man and beast alit in the open ground just beyond the castle walls, Adriana tensed, expecting momentarily to hear a cry of alarm. Instead, she heard only silence as the dark cloaked figure lifted his arm and moved it slowly through the air before him. Confused, fearful, she dragged her rapt gaze from the dark figure at last to look at the guards upon the walls to see what they thought, why they had not sounded the alarm, and she saw that they had slumped on the parapets as if they had fallen asleep. Stunned, she looked down into the bailey, and as she watched, the workers there yawned and began to slide slowly toward the ground, as if some invisible force was moving inward, catching man and beast and placing some sleeping spell upon them.

  Below her, the castle itself fell silent, but even as she listened to the silence of the dark enchantment, Adriana felt her fear subsiding, felt herself drifting slowly toward the floor.

  * * * *

  As sleep claimed the very last inhabitant of the tiny castle, Morpheus dismounted. His booted heels crunched loudly on broken rock strewn across the ground, sounding loud in the silence of the night, but not a breath of protest whispered on the cool night air.

  Freeing Despair to go about his own concerns until he had need of the steed again, Morpheus strode purposefully toward the castle gates, seeking the object of his wrath, his tormentor, the mortal that had dared to summon him, Morpheus, lord of the night as if he were no more than a slave to do her bidding. When he reached the great gate, he lifted his hands. At once, the massive panels began to swing open. He strode inside, crossed the bailey and lifted his hands as he approached the castle doors so that they also opened to him. Without pausing, he entered the castle and crossed the great hall. Reaching the stairs, he climbed them rapidly, until at last he came to the tower door, where slumbered the sleeping beauty who had demanded his presence.

  Flicking an arm in the air as if swatting at a fly, he threw the door to the tower open. It slammed against the stone wall, echoing in the silence. Entering the room without a pause, he looked around for the girl, jolting to a halt when he spied her.

  By the window she lay, resting upon the floor in a pool of her own wine dark hair, one hand cradled against her face in sweet supplication.

  He had known that she was pure of heart. He had not expected that she would be lovely, as well. As angry as he was, Morpheus felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite identify as he stared at her peacefully sleeping face.

  For a moment, it pierced his anger. Impatiently, he brushed the unaccustomed, unidentifiable emotion aside, crossing the room swiftly and kneeling beside her. So close, he saw that his eyes had not done her justice. She was fair, so fair that it caused him another pang only to look upon her.

  It took more of an effort to banish the strange, confusing hesitancy that came over him that time, to resurrect his anger of before, but he stoked it to life once more for he despised his enslavement to mere mortals with their petty dreams. Bending over her, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to her bed, laying her carefully upon the counterpane.

  Straightening, he folded his arms over his chest, pondering a dilemma he had not anticipated. He had decided err he left his realm to answer the summons that he would teach this mortal a lesson that would prevent future petitions upon his valuable time, and yet now that he looked upon her, he was suddenly at a loss as to just what he could bring himself to do to put fear into her heart and mind. Grinding his teeth at the weakness, he settled beside her on the bed and lifted his hand.

  Without touching her, he moved his hand just above her cool, pale brow, summoning the demons of sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Something huge crashed through the woods behind her. Adriana’s breath caught in her throat, the coolness of the night making her lungs ache. She whirled, trying to discern the direction from which the sound came, but the thick underbrush rattled with a sudden wind, masking its source.

  Above the treetops, the moon crept out from hiding, dancing behind rain drenched clouds to lend her only flickering light.

  Again the sound came, closer. The great thwack of a naked blade against brush was unmistakable now. Someone hacked through the wood, coming for her. She turned from the sound, heading blindly into the thickness that surrounded her. Brambles caught at her skirt. Random stones and broken sticks stabbed her feet so that she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She wondered dimly why she’d not thought to wear her boots or cloak on a night such as this, but the looming sounds increasing behind her quickly drove such thinking from her mind.

  A deer path opened before her and she stumbled onto it, and she ran, hoping to find some den to hide herself from whoever chased her. Behind her, the crashing and slashing dimmed and finally stopped. Above the pounding pulse in her ears, though, she heard a more terrifying sound—hoof beats.

  Horror surged through her, but she dared not look back. She ran, ran until her sides ached with the unaccustomed exercise, until her chest hurt from her ragged breaths. A cold, thin creek darted through the darkened landscape, soft grasses along its bank rustling in the breeze. The moon peeked from the sky again, revealing a tangled heap of ancient vine across the way. They were curved near the bottom, as if many animals had taken shelter there over time.

  Knowing she couldn’t outrun a horse, she crossed the stream and rushed to the vines. Crouching on the ground, she scrambled inside the pitiful shelter, praying that her dress was not bright enough to draw attention through the sparsely cloaking plant.

  When she could go no further, she stilled, listening for sounds of pursuit, hearing nothing but the maddening, masking sounds of the babbling brook and the creak of the vines as wind whistled through them.

  Had her tormenter given up? Adriana held her breath, straining to hear anything that presented itself, anything that would tell her that the danger had passed her by—or stalked her still.

  Long, torturous moments passed before she heard it—a sudden series of splashes, and then they ceased. A thud sounded then, followed by quiet rustles of grass, the soft swish of fabric caught in a wind.

  Adriana held her breath, fearing even so small a movement would betray her. She wished she could turn, but there’d been barely enough room to crawl inside her hiding place—and no room to turn and settle into a watchful position. She bit her lip, clenched her hands into fists, praying he would pass her by, but she feared her hiding place was too obvious even to a man struck blind.

  Unaccountable minutes passed, allowing her terror to increase with each second. Her body was a bundle of tension, waiting to spring, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

  Something seized her foot and yanked.

  Adriana screamed, grabbing at the vines as she was dragged from her hiding place, pulled out into the grassy bed she’d trampled when she had scurried into the tangle to hide.

  She twisted, rolling onto her back to fight her attacker. Leather armor creaked as he knelt and trapped her legs between his knees, cutting off her kicks. Hands clamped around her biceps, holding her against the ground until she was unable to move for the weight bearing down on her. She shrieked, struggling against him, but he was too heavy and much too strong for her to even budge.

  His first words shocked her with the deep, powerful resonance of his voice. “Cease your struggles,” he commanded, his gloved fingers hard, tightening on her arms.

  Thoroughly subdued, and
contrary to all logic, her fright eased to a dull roar, enough so that she could think rationally. Had he truly meant her harm, she realized, he would have cut her down immediately, or raped her once she’d been subdued. Instead, he’d done nothing more than capture and study her as he held her beneath him.

  Comforted by those thoughts, Adriana quieted her struggles, allowing her breathing to return to normal as she attempted to discern who he was. She could see nothing but the general shape of a man leaning above her. The width of his shoulders and his whipping cloak obscured the light. Squint as she might in the gloom, nothing availed his identity to her.

  He remained silent so long after those three words, she thought perhaps he’d turned to stone. Only the warmth of his body seeping through the supple leather to her trapped thighs alerted her that he lived.

  Unable to bear the suspense any longer, she asked, “My lord, pray tell, who are you? Why have you pursued me? Have I done you wrong?”

  “I am Morpheus Dragunas, Lord of the Night. You summoned me.”