Beneath the Shadows of Evil... Taken Read online

  Beneath the Shadows of Evil… Taken

  Book One

  By: Jolynn Raymond

  Copyright March, 2013

  978-1482602289

  All Rights Reserved

  Kindle Edition: Amazon

  Paperback by Createspace

  Edited by Lilith Kyper

  If you are an author in search of reasonable editing and proofing services, write to her

  [email protected]

  Other Books By Jolynn Raymond

  Lessons of Love: An Erotic Historical Romance

  Elizabeth’s Destiny: A Kinky Historical Romance

  Sweet Agony: A Collection of Erotic BDSM Short Stories

  Dining In: A Taste of Erotic Food Play

  Dark Obsessions: A collection of Lesbian BDSM Erotica

  Soon to be released

  Torn… Book Two in the Beneath the Shadows of Evil Series

  Coming May 1, 2013

  Treasured… Book Three in the Beneath the Shadows of Evil Series

  Coming July 1, 2013

  Websites

  My Books on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jolynn-Raymond

  Beauty’s Punishments: Beauty's Punishments

  Jolynn Raymond’s Dark Obsessions: http://jolynnraymond.com

  Beneath the Shadows of Evil… Taken

  Forward

  There have been many misconceptions and stereotypes surrounding Gypsies throughout history. In an effort to dispel some of those misconceptions and help my readers understand why Alliana behaves as she does, I have listed some facts I uncovered during my research. It is my wish to give readers a clear understanding of her staunch beliefs, and possibly confusing actions, and behaviors. For the purpose of this story, these explanations will be in regard to the Gypsies of old Europe, not for those of modern times.

  When a Gypsy child is born, they are given three names. The first is an English name they will use in life when interacting with Anglos, or non-Gypsies. The second is their Gypsy name that will be used in their clan, and the third is a name that the mother whispers in the child’s ear when she first holds the baby. The name is one that will never be heard by another living soul. It is a name given the child in secret to confuse the evil spirits so they will not be able to know or find the child.

  Gypsies did not bathe in still water. To do so was marime’ or unclean, and was forbidden. That means pools of water, lakes, or bathtubs were not acceptable. There were precise rules for the order or place the members of the clan bathed in a river. The water must be flowing, and the men bathed at the point furthest upstream, the children second, women third, and menstruating women at the furthest point downstream. A menstruating woman is marime’, or unclean.

  It has been said, that Gypsies sold their children. In reality, that is not so, but there are reasons for the misconception; Gypsies girls married very young. Girls of 13 or 14 were married in the Anglo world in the Middle Ages, and Gypsy girls were as young as 8 or 9. One reason is because the laws of the clan state that no man can touch a married female. Rape, or merely touching a married girl/woman below the waist, inside the clan, was very rare. Being married young ensured any male would not touch a girl improperly. Her husband doesn’t touch the child sexually until she begins menstruating. Child brides were common as a way of protection, because touching a married girl would mean banishment from the clan.

  The Gypsies also had a custom that is much like a reverse dowry. When a girl was married, the groom’s family gave the bride’s family a bride price or gift in order to compensate them for losing her. She was cherished, and the gift was meant to ease their loss, not as a means to buy her. So in reality, there was money given, and often the bride was a young girl, therefore the belief that Gypsies sold their children was in actuality a young girl being wed for her protection and the family given a gift to help with the loss of their daughter.

  A dilko is a headscarf that is worn by all women who are married. A woman must always wear her dilko when others will see her. No one but her husband may see all of her hair. Also, a woman is never to be seen or touched above the ankle or below the waist by anyone that is not her husband. It is against clan law.

  A Kris is the governing council in a Gypsy clan. They make the decisions regarding anyone who has violated the laws of the clan and determine their fate. They also make decisions on what is best for the clan in terms of where they live, how they earn money, who should marry, etc. Anglo laws are not considered when making decisions.

  In Gypsy culture a bride’s dress is red. A white dress signals that one is a thief; therefore Alliana feels appalled at having to wear a white dress.

  Hungary, Late Middle Ages

  Chapter One

  Run! The one frantic word pounded through Alliana’s head in time with the beating of her racing heart. She could hear him behind her, closer and closer, Mikhal the Merciless, he who had no soul. The one she had been warned about over and over since her clan had moved into the area. The very reason she had been ordered to stay close to the caravan. One leather clad foot slipped on the icy grass, making her stumble, arms pin wheeling, but she regained her balance and raced onward, pursued by the devil himself.

  The clouds in the night sky parted, allowing the moon to shine down through the semi leafless trees, making the ice that clung to their black branches glisten and light up the night. A freak early storm had coated everything, giving it a crystallized sheen, turning the world dazzling and wondrous, if not for the fact that it made the ground beneath her slick and treacherous.

  Her breath came out in frosty plumes as she ran, her golden hair flying behind her. Once again her foot slid, the thin soles of her well-worn boots giving her no traction on the hazardous terrain, but she righted herself, terror giving her the power to go on.

  Branches tore at her hair, pulling the tattered shawl from her shoulders, scratching at her arms and face. Then, the worst happened. A branch tore the large pocket of her faded skirt, spilling the apples secreted there. They tripped her up as they tumbled before her, making her fall to her knees. Her hands skimmed over the frost-covered grass, and though her fingers tried desperately to find purchase, she was unable to stop her fall.

  She landed hard; half-frozen apples trapped beneath her body, bruising her ribs, a multitude of petticoats twisting around her legs. Alliana yelped, then shook off the pain, and quickly managed to right herself, grasping frantically at the branches around her for stability. She launched herself forward once again, fleeing in a blind panic. The fall had cost her precious time.

  Pounding hooves, gaining ever quicker, rang in her ears, along with her gasps for air and frantic whimpers of terror. He was going to catch her. He was gaining. It would only be a matter of time now. Mere seconds and then her life would be over. Alliana thought again of her maman and her papa and their dire warning about coming onto the devil’s land. She whispered a fervent plea for forgiveness, even as she felt herself being lifted off the ground and pulled onto the horse of the one who had hunted her down.

  She felt a rumble of laughter in his chest as he pulled her close. Alliana twisted, kicking, clawing, trying to scratch at his eyes, fighting for her life, but her strength was no match for his. He stopped his mount, wrapping up her struggling body and flailing limbs, with arms like bands of iron, crushing her to his chest as he stared down into her terrified eyes, the moon illuminating his features, thick curly hair, sharp cheek bones, sensuous lips, and harsh dark eyes, gazing at her with amusement and contempt.

  She screamed and fought, turning from his piercing gaze, refusing to look the devil in the eye. He was one with the dark magicks, a vampire, one without a soul. Alliana had heard the elders ta
lking. His serfs were terrified of him. Children, even babies, were said to have gone missing, young girls defiled, blood rituals held in the dead of night, torture and screams from the castle. Why oh why had she come here? For the apples that now lay scattered in the wake of her flight? The hunger gnawing at her belly was nothing compared to the terror filling her soul.

  “Stop it. Be still, girl.” He squeezed her face in his hand painfully and forced her to look into his eyes. “You’re nothing but a Gypsy thief. I could hang you from that tree this instant.”

  He said the words, but his eyes told her he had no intention of doing just that. Though they were cruel, they appraised her features as he turned her head left, then right, smiling a sardonic grin of approval. He then raked them down over her body, staring at her with undisguised lust, eyes glowing, tongue curled behind his teeth, nostrils flaring as he scented the increase in fear his desire caused. She was young, not more than sixteen or seventeen, but she knew what a man did with a woman.

  “That’s right, little one. You should be afraid.”

  One hand came up to cup her breast, squeezing sharply, and she screamed again, struggling, panicked. He slapped her, stunning her into silence, the force of the blow making her slump in one tightly curled arm as he kicked his mount, clucking softly to the startled horse to resume its journey, and headed for the camp Alliana called home. If this little bit of a thing was who he thought she was, and she had to be with her obvious Gypsy garb and highly unusual coloring, he had plans for the girl.

  “Let me go. Please. The apples were rotting from the ice and needing to be picked. They were of no use to you. We’re hungry.”

  “You were on my land and you stole from me, girl. That gives me the right to do with you as I please. I am Lord and Master here. There will be a price for your thievery and trespassing. Tell me was Nicolae your great-grandfather? Are you of his blood?”

  The whispered tales of the Gypsy Clan of Nicolae and the powerful golden girl child who would be born among them had not escaped Mikhal, even in his lofty castle far above the squalid poverty where his serfs lived. The gossip that the clan had moved into the area a fortnight ago hadn’t escaped him either, though he hadn’t known if the girl had been born or had come of age.

  The Gypsy’s were disdained by all because of their different ways, but even so, the fable had woven itself into the folklore of the region. All who lived in that part of Hungary knew the story of the magical golden girl child. She was to be born to the Clan of Nicolae and contain much magic in her soul. She would be recognized by her unusual coloring and beauty, and would be the savior of her people by delivering them from persecution on the day of her eighteenth birthday. After that, they would lead a life of freedom, full of power and riches.

  Mikhal’s only thought had been what she could do for the man able to possess her. He didn’t need riches, and he certainly didn’t need more power. He was already known and feared far and wide. He had everything he desired and did as he damn well pleased, committing whatever heinous acts and atrocities that titillated him, but to be practical, no man could ever be too rich or too powerful.

  Over time, someone he couldn’t easily crush, could take offense at his activities, or decide a creature such as himself must be destroyed, so the little bundle in his arms could come in very handy. Besides, with dear sister Marishka’s magic, he’d be able to sire a son with the girl he already thought of as his own. Their combined magic would ensure his bloodline was the most powerful one on earth.

  Yes, he must have her, and it mattered not that she didn’t want him, nor that her family would protest mightily. There wasn’t a chance in Hell they could oppose him and deny him what he wanted. He was God here, and his word was law. He’d throw the lot of them in his dungeons if they dared to lift a finger against him.

  When Alliana still hadn’t answered his question through all of his musings, he shook her and asked again. “Was Nicolae your great-grandfather? Are you of his blood?”

  Alliana jerked and fought the iron bands that held her. What did he know of her family? Why? “Bengalo! Bengalo!” She struggled as she screamed at him

  “Yes, my dear. I know I am the devil. That is why I need to see your papa. Your family, or more precisely you, has high magic, and as you know, I am powerful as well. Together we will do great things. You will give me a powerful son.”

  Alliana’s eyes opened wide at his words. He meant to keep her. She lifted her hand to claw at his hateful eyes, but he batted it away and caught her wrist in a crushing grip. “I’ll not tolerate any of that, sweet.”

  “My family would never sell me to you, to a Bengalo. You will never touch me.” Alliana spat in his face in defiance, the thought of this man, this evil thing, laying his hands on her made her stomach churn. He sneered at her and wiped the spittle from his cheek then forced his fingers into her mouth, making her gag.

  “I already am my pet, and I plan on doing so very often in the future. You shall be sold to me or they will be put into my dungeon. I imagine you shall cost a high price, but they will sell you all the same. You are just one girl in exchange for all of their lives. Come tomorrow you shall be my bride.”

  “You would imprison them all?”

  “Until they rot. You shall be mine one way or another, girl. I shall either buy you, and in doing so provide your clan with something to live on in the process, or I will hold you in my castle while my guards storm your camp, rounding up every last one of those you hold dear.

  “Tell me pet. Are there many of you? Are you starving? The cold has come early. You were stealing apples that were rotting in the ice. Which is the more attractive option to them? To you? Are you honorable, girl?”

  “You speak of honor! I... I can’t...” His touch revolted her; his mere presence terrified her. How could she accept a life in his bed? Bear his son; live in his castle? What of the rumors of bloodshed and terror? He looked like a man, but they said he was the devil, a vampire, a beast. His eyes and touch were so very cold. Alliana shook her head mutely, stunned by the turn of events her rash actions of the night, had caused.

  “This is not a matter for you to decide.” Mikhal chuckled at her predicament as the fear, revulsion, and panic flashed through her eyes and her pulse raced anew. He, himself, was quite pleased with the night’s outcome. He’d caught a fine prize. She was warm, beautiful, and so, so tender, and he had no intention of letting her go. Even if she didn’t turn out to be the fabled golden girl child, this one was worth keeping, at least for a while.

  Chapter Two

  Mikhal guided his mount between the dense trees, navigating through the darkness; Alliana perched sideways in his arms, one leg bent, skirt and petticoats in wild disarray. She strained to keep herself erect as the horse gently swayed, loathed to come into contact with him, sitting as stiff as she could. She’d strayed far off the path in her flight, and the ground was rough beneath them, making her fervent wish almost impossible. The forest was dense, and Alliana was quite lost, but Mikhal knew his land well. His subtle movements of the reins were done with hardly a thought.

  The moon was shrouded in clouds once more, the fairytale realm of glistening ice, now just a menacing world of dark twisted shapes. The cries of a distant wolf pack hunting down its prey punctuated the stillness time and again, but neither Alliana nor the horse feared the hungry beasts, both knew the creature that mastered them now was far more frightening than anything that prowled the woods.

  As they rode, a jaunty little ditty suddenly spilled from Mikhal’s lips, filling the air around them. He was filled with delight, and as he sang a supremely pleased smile appeared on his smug face. The moon appeared again as well, in time with his smile, casting a spotlight on his features, as if to make sure Alliana could see how pleased her captor was. She did see. She saw and she heard, and it sickened her. He was so very casual and unfeeling about the drama playing out that night.

  At the moment he was completely self-absorbed. Proud and pleased, congratulating hi
mself on a job well done, oblivious to the daggers Alliana was shooting at him with her eyes. It was almost as if he wasn’t aware of her presence now that he had decided on keeping her. Mikhal the Merciless was after all, used to having everything go his way. The mere idea that he would be denied something he desired never entered his mind. Now that his plan was set in motion, he needn’t worry himself with the girl who would be at the center of it all. She was just a pawn in his game. Granted that pawn had come in the form of a very desirable, shiny new toy, but she was a pawn just the same, a means to an end, albeit a very luscious one.

  Alliana decided to interrupt his irritatingly merry mood, though she was still filled with trepidation. It annoyed her to no end that he was so pleased with himself while she was in this wretched situation. Besides, although he’d frightened her, he hadn’t truly hurt her, and Alliana didn’t think he had any plans to do so at the moment. If she were ever to gain her freedom, now would be the time. She couldn’t be silent any longer. Her life was in this monster’s hands. Perhaps if she made herself undesirable, he’d release her. Her maman had always told her that her sharp tongue turned her into a shrew, and men didn’t like shrews. Perhaps if she were repugnant, he’d give up this folly.

  “What were you going to do with the apples anyway?” Her voice held a brazen, disrespectful tone. Very shrew like, Alliana assured herself. It made Mikhal look down at her in shock. “They’re half rotten with the frost. I dare say royalty such as you would get a stomachache from such mealy things. Did you honestly have a need for them?” She’d said the word royalty with just a hint of disdain and the slightest of sneers, knowing that if she pushed him too far, things could go badly.