July Contest

Winner is Jezzy!

Rayne
by
Jezzy
Jezzy won "Prairie Peace", an Ebook by the lovely Ginger Simpson




Wake me up…I can’t wake up.

Rayne twisted in her sleep, the voice growing stronger.

Save me!

She jostled awake from the cold bed of grass and flowers covering the ground she rested on, rubbing off the moss that was on the tree she leaned against. It was a brief nap. She must have dozed off while her horse grazed quietly next to her.

And it had happened again. The words still echoed in her mind. The question was who was she was trying to save? And just how deep did she have to go in order to do it?

Ever since she had entered this part of the wood, she felt a disturbing presence that lingered in the air. Lingered all over. She was close to Devil’s Playground. It was a place of uninhibited spirits haunting the plane, sleeping in a core that gave off a disturbing chill.

Whoever went into the forbidden land never returned. Talks of trolls and evildoers who knew magic turning those of good into vessels of evil. Only a warrior of pure intentions would dare to fight their way through the Playground.

She was that warrior.

Rayne was perturbed from her reflection by her horse, a sturdy and proud Udalian as black as pitch. She smiled as she patted the mare’s snout as she neighed softly. “I hope you have fed well, Glade,” she chimed. “It will be a while before we stop again.”

Rayne rose to her feet, stretching out muscles that protested sudden movement. But she made the effort to mount her horse. Rayne made sure her hood and cloak enclosed around her to shield off the cold of late morning. She wrapped her usual scarf around the lower half of her dark face, only her mysterious violet eyes gleaming enmity beneath the shadow of her hood.

She clicked her tongue and nudged her heels into Glade’s sides, the horse immediately prompted into a full gallop. She knew she was not far from Devil’s Playground from Nygar’s Wood. The journey was a perilous one. Once she was out of the safety of the woods, she would forfeit her life to God. It would be at His mercy whether or not she lived or died once she crossed the point of no return.

It wouldn’t matter to her anyway. She had no family, but she wasn’t afraid to die. She didn’t have anything to live for besides for the ghostly voice that invaded her psyche every time she dared to close her eyes.
She had heard of it since she could first collect memories. For the longest time, she had ignored it. She did tell her mother, but was immediately called foolish, a child who was making up wild stories.

But the voice had only grown stronger with each passing year, especially when she came of age. Now she was twenty years plus two, a loner. Her family had died when she was thirteen, raiders from the north raping and pillaging without qualm. They weren’t her true family, but they took her in, despite the outcry from the village.

Rayne rarely cried, but the accusations still hurt. Even now, they throbbed in her mind. The neighbors had proclaimed her a cursed child. Rayne could not help on how she looked. Her dark coloring, her singular violet eyes and silvery-white hair drew steady awareness. It was a unusual combination to find on anyone. No matter how much she took dye to her hair, the platinum strands always seemed to overrun the colors all together.

Rayne brushed the past aside, no longer able to ignore the uncomfortable draftiness that surrounded the area. She was getting nearer to the Playground. The ominous mists enveloping the shady grove always emitted a nippiness from its cavernous floors. It was suicide just to attempt anything as foolish as she, but she could no longer fight the voice that frequently called for her concentration.

Rayne rode until the setting sun hid beyond the abundant woods as twilight approached and fell. She noted how Glade was treading at a slower pace. She didn’t make as good a time as desired. They hadn’t reached Devil’s Playground, but it was only a matter of time. She would arrive at the border by the witching hour. Then it would give her a handful of hours to discover the lighted path shone by the Devil’s Moon. It only occurred once every year. Rayne had decided that this time was her calling. The soul behind the voice. And the voice knew that another year wouldn’t pass without her coming to him.

She knew it was a man. A man who had been trapped inside the Playground’s perimeters for one thousand years craved to be released. The story behind his imprisonment was a strange one. The man had started a war between the Vlaslir clan and another family because he failed to take a woman’s hand in marriage. He reveled in not being tied down. Unbeknownst to him, the daughter of the wealthy baron who was to be his betrothed studied witch craft and cast him into an unbreakable stone. As unfeeling as the Vlaslir leader was, the woman found it a befitting punishment. Only a brave woman who was of his kind would be able to set him free.

But there was a war between the houses, running the Vlaslir family away from their land, leaving the laird to rest for a thousand years. Now that his voice beckoned to her, Rayne found that she was the man’s only savior.

The weary warrior witnessed a small structure shrouded by the boughs of trees, swaying to the gentle symphony of breeze played. Creatures of the forest enhanced the nocturnal harmony that pulsated in a mounting crescendo.

Glade snorted, as if tiredly. Rayne gave the mare a comforting stroke on her neck. “Easy, lassier, you’ll rest soon, if only briefly.”

Rayne guided Glade to the inn, from the looks of it, and dismounted. She knocked at the door, arousing the innkeeper from his business. She believed she did drive some apprehension into him with her dark garb, her eyes barely discernable from the dark cavern her covering provided.

“Please, sir. My mare and I need rest for an hour. We both crave for food and water, whatever you can spare.”

“Nobody is admitted here after dark, being situated so close to Devil’s Playground.” Then he gave her a once over, clearly a disgusted, yet curious look as he browsed her attire. “Too many of those damned weirdlings out.”

“Please, I implore you to spare me only an hour, then I shall continue on.”

Rayne noticed how the man warred with himself, numerous emotions crossing his rounded visage. Fear the main one that surfaced.

“I’m sorry, but I must think about my--”

The young warrior held up a gold coin. The man’s eyes flashed avariciously as his beady eyes followed the piece. Rayne shook her head mentally at this. Greed. It was the only way to bring about what she wanted. From the look of interest, this man had a price.

“I will pay your three tyrani for what I require.”

Another gleam of desire betrayed his total want of propriety. Still, he contemplated briefly before giving a nod of his head. “But you must stay out in the stables. I could lose occupants if you come in, do you understand?”

Only too well. She was accustomed to being treated that way. It was her lot in life. “It is fair. I will lead my horse on and I would greatly appreciate if you bring some food and water to me, since I cannot approach the inn.”

“Done.” He watched hesitantly as she replaced the coin piece back into her purse. “Do I get my money now?”

“After my horse and I have been serviced to full satisfaction.” She turned to give Glade a soft pat. “But I promise you on my honor that you shall receive your reward.”

Rayne and her mare were able to approach the Vlaslir House, thoroughly concealed in shadow. She was astonished how perfectly safe she had made it through the Playground without disturbance. Not once did she have to draw her sword. It was as if the creatures of the night knew her purpose and moved aside, leaving her fate to the house.

She looked up toward the moon, observing its position in the starless heavens. Since Glade and herself had used their hour well at the inn, they were not as tired as they were before. Rayne was able to cover the ground she wanted. Now she had only a couple of hours before the sun came to rise again.

Rayne descended from her saddle and took Glade by the reins, leading her up the slated stairs. They were in disrepair, full of cracks and sections awaiting for their time to fall apart. She had to be careful of her steps as well as Glade’s. She couldn’t possibly fix the mare’s shoe if she threw one.

They carefully strolled through a vastly dark foyer that seemed to go on forever. All the lights were off, only the floor to ceiling windows with rented curtains harvested any light for her to see.

Rayne shivered slightly at the revealing of gothic architecture and gargoyles that made faces when in shadow or in the pure moonlight. Sleeping in such a place would give anyone nightmares. Lucky for her she was only staying to satisfy her curiosity.

And speaking of her main objective for coming, she was hearing the voice once more. She was puzzled. How could she when she was awake? It usually haunted her dreams. Rayne doubted she was dreaming now.

There were more phrases added this time. Each step brought her closer to the knell of the tormented being trapped in this house.

Call my name…

Rayne saw a stairwell leading upstairs. She suspected that the spirit’s resting place was in the highest position possible.

Don’t let me die in here…

She tied Glade to a sturdy table, which was the only thing she could find that would hold her horse. “Don’t go anywhere, lassier. I hope to finish this soon.”

Save me…

Rayne withdrew a candle and recited an incantation, the wick instantly blazing into a warm glow. It was one of the few things she was taught by a friend of hers. They had also told her how to bring the spirit to life in the Vlaslir house.

Bid my blood to run…

The young warrior made it to the top, witnessing nothing but a hallway with doors. The sleeping quarters, she supposed. She looked to another stairway and ascended that one, bringing her to the third floor. The final floor. And the voice had grown in volume. It felt as if he could talk to her but she could not converse back. She was bid only to follow.

Breathe into me…

She caught a large statue out of the corner of her eye. Inquisitive, she warily wandered to where it was, stopping in front of it. She assessed it from base to head, intrigued by a handsome face carved from the stone.

Bring me to life…

Rayne’s breath caught in her throat. The spirit was trapped inside this object. She considered the depth of her situation. This voice needed her to release it. Dare she do it?

Of course she did, or she wouldn’t have come so far in the first place. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, starting her meditation. She heaved deep, calming breaths, going into the plane of a tranquil mind.

Gradually, she began to recite, “Spirit of Vlaslir House, I call for your blood to run, I call for your soul to come forth. I bid you life.”

Then she reached to his height, Rayne lowering her scarf that hid part of her face. She placed her lips to his opened ones and exhaled. It seemed that she had stopped breathing entirely. She thought she was becoming paranoid when the cold, hardened lips began to soften beneath hers, starting to caress hers.

A daring tongue suddenly surfaced, grazing over her supple lips. Rayne was shocked. No one had ever kissed her before. She had never allowed it.

Rayne suddenly lost her footing and fell backward, landing onto her bottom. The candle blew out, darkness resuming its place save the moonlight.

She looked almost fearfully at the statue. Not of stone anymore. Now a man took the place of what was cold and unfeeling. A real man with features almost as dark as hers, but it seemed as if the sun had done that to him instead of being born that way. Corded, straining muscles bulged from the upper half of his lithe body. His back and chest was enormous, a powerhouse packed tightly in sinewy skin.

Another discovery made Rayne jump inside. He, too, possessed silvery-white hair. It was lengthy for a man, tied back with a queue. Then there was a connection between them. She could feel it just by looking at him. Who else had the type of hair she did? Was it possible that she was connected to an ancient race of people? That she, too, was a missing part of the Vlaslir branch?

Rayne gulped as her dark gaze lowered to evaluate the lower half of him covered in black leather that seemed to mold itself to him. Everywhere. Rayne could not stop her pulse from escalating, this foreign feeling planting itself firmly inside her. She felt feverish just watching this man come to life after so many moons of being imprisoned. Now that he was released, what was he going to do now, especially to her?

Finally, his eyes lifted, clear, baby blues appraising her in interest. His hard yet handsome features betrayed a little sense of alarm as he stared at her. He looked from side to side, all around the hall before landing back on her. “Where is she, boy?”

Still a bit spellbound, Rayne didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. She was too enthralled with this man to know better, engrossed by his tone. He asked the question again. This time she straightened up, rising to her feet. She guessed he couldn’t tell that she was who he was looking for. She did replace her scarf once she fell. It gave her a sense of safety to hide in the shadow of her own making, but she believed it would be her undoing if this man had anything to do with it.

Cold eyes stabbed her with an intensity that made her heart skip. His lips drew into a thin line, his face losing any part of humility in them. “Who are you?” She still didn’t answer, defiant eyes of dark violet glinting at him. The man, who had been armed from the first, withdrew his magnificent weapon out of his scabbard, the handle jeweled with all sorts of finery. The steel was untainted, sturdy, and sharp. Yet Rayne stayed unmoved.

“Insolent boy,” the man breathed harshly. “I shall break your skull for disobeying my questions. You don’t even qualify to be run through with my blade.”

On impulse, Rayne withdrew her own sword, a little dismayed that she didn’t possess as much pizzazz as her opposition clearly did. He must have been a huge warrior during his time years ago.

A silvery brow lifted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes lighted up. In mirth. The bastard was laughing at her.

“You think that you could take Dare Vlaslir on?” he inquired jokingly, doing a great job at wounding her pride. “Well then, pup, amuse me with your skills.” He relaxed into his fighting stance, his legs crossing each other as he moved around her in a circle. “And perhaps, if I allow you to live, you may train under me.”

Not a chance in heaven or hell, thought Rayne as she positioned herself at ready and followed his movements, pending for his first attack. But he was patient, waiting for her to make the fatal mistake of charging him.

Again, another smile crossed his features. A strange flutter inside her made her think that she was drawn to this man. She didn’t understand why. She really didn’t want to find out. Too much rode on this battle of wills and swords.

“What is wrong? Afraid to attack?”

Slowly, she shook her head and lifted her hand, her forefinger goading an unspoken, yet understandable gesture.

Anger resided in his countenance as he came after her, his blade clinging with hers. Though he was strong, she matched him in strength and cunning. They contested it out for minutes on end, each showing slight tiredness after such powerful hits. That was when her antagonist displayed his first flare of impatience, clearly disoriented how a mere boy, as he had called her, could last for so long. He was desperately reaching to draw some blood. Rayne fought with all her soul not wanting the blood to be spilt to be hers.

Rayne began to swing her blade up, catching him off guard as he was unarmed. His treasured sword went flying through the air. Rayne displayed her other ability, flipping backwards until she was beneath his blade, catching it at last. She was able to grasp briefly how impressed he was, even at his own expense.

Dare Vlaslir, as he had deemed himself, settled onto his knees, admitting himself to be defeated and wanting mercy. Rayne didn’t believe it for a second, yet she came up to him, crossing the blades toward the hilts. She rested them on his brawny shoulders, encasing his neck between them, the cutting edges almost pricking his skin.

“All right, I forfeit. Just allow me to live.”

Rayne’s eyes displayed her insecurity. Should she trust a man who wanted to kill her in the first place? Her muscles eased as she was about to step back, but she was suddenly grabbed by the wrists. His hold was so tight, his fingers dug into her for pressure points that made her drop the swords. He then threw her down to the floor, the contact so hard that it stole the air from her body. The blow also loosened her scarf, her face finally revealed.

Dare Vlaslir staggered to his feet, using his boot to slide her weapon far from her reach, pointing to her throat with his own. Breathing harshly, his condemning eyes focused with hate on her, but softened a touch when he glared onto her. He froze for a second, blinking his eyes to clear them. As if the image before him was the deception by the devil.

“A girl?” he almost shouted in disbelief. “I was almost beheaded by a girl? What is your name?”

Rayne refused to answer, her smooth, violet gaze glowering fierce daggers at him. And even with him knowing she was a woman, he had annoyance for both sexes. He bared the sharp point of the blade nearer to her gorge. “Answer me, girl. Your name.”

She lifted her head proudly. “Rayne.”

Her competitor blinked again. “Rayne?” His eyes narrowed. “Beautifully mysterious for a beautiful combatant.”

Rayne was taken aback by the compliment, marveling at how it flowed off his tongue like the sweetest plarrioff pudding. It was as if he was trying to seduce her just by conversation. Rayne found herself seduced anyway. His long hair was free from its confinement, the sparring between them releasing it to fly in a silver trail behind his lithe movements.

Dare flinched, squinting his beguiling eyes as if for closer scrutiny. “I take it that you have yet to receive compliments on your beauty,” he replied, hitting the nail directly on the head. “Your eyes alone could bewitch a man at first sight.”

Rayne fought against the sensation oozing in her body, a sudden warmth of the second admiring comment too much for her. She began to shift her body back, glaring down at his sword. “Let me rise.”

“Do you yield?”

Her glance lifted. “Only to the victor of the fight.”

“Which I am.”

The next second went by so quickly, the taunting giant was caught flabbergasted as her leg aimed for his ankles with all her might. He fell onto his back hard onto the freezing, granite floor. Rayne scrambled over and straddled his hips, drawing her dagger out of her boot. She held it to his gullet, smugly grinning as he glared back. If she was truly smitten, she could get lost in his endless blue eyes, swimming inside them until she drowned.

“Now, do you yield?”

Dare was obviously caught by surprise still as he resumed normal breathing. Then, a knowing smile of his own appeared on his lips. “I find that I have little choice in the matter, vixen. I am--” He took a moment to search deep into her eyes, “thoroughly conquered by your skills and splendor. But you forget one thing.”

Rayne raised an eyebrow in curiosity, her bright, mocking smile suddenly fading as a blade grew intimate between her breasts, aiming at her heart through her tunic. Now it was Dare’s turn to smirk conceitedly.

“You become far too trusting when it comes to your victories.”

He suddenly tossed her off of him, sending her into several back flips. Dare rose and dashed after her. Rayne stopped her somersaults, quickening for her sword. He met her there, stepping on the flat side with intimidation, looking down his nose at her.

“Uh-uh,” he said flatly. “You’re beaten. Surrender.”

She had never been defeated before. This was the first, and she wasn’t taking it well. Thoughts flashed in her psyche, what she could endure while in the captivity of this man. She stood, then hurried for the stairway. Dare caught her in only a couple of steps, grabbing a hold of her hood and cloak. Her pulled her back harshly, Rayne’s body meeting a wall before he sandwiched her between that and his own heat.

Her long, silvery-white hair fell into her face, the shadow her hood provided gone. He had taken it, thrown it on the floor like a forgotten toy.
She shifted her eyes to his, trepidation finally beginning to surface. And he could feel it, smell it. He didn’t smile, his façade bleak. His body was aligned with hers, rasping hard muscles against her soft curves. He grabbed a handful of her hair, rubbing it thoughtfully between his thumb and forefinger. “What are you?”

She shrugged. “I know not. I do not remember where I came from, who my real people are.”

“How did you find this house?”

“A voice channeled me here.”

“A voice,” he whispered to himself. “I could not speak. Barely could think for myself. You must have heard it. Listened to my thoughts.”

Rayne was lost but concurred. “I only came to satisfy my curiosity. Devil’s Playground is a strictly forbidden land. Too dangerous.”

“But you seemed to have gotten to me fine.”

“Nothing attacked me, much to my surprise.”

She frowned as she felt something prodding by her tunic. She was paralyzed to feel Dare growing so large in the breadth of second. Her round, violet eyes narrowed in horrific comprehension of what was quickly unfolding before her. This power god with conceited morals desired her?

Rayne shifted uncomfortably against the wall, fighting with Dane for fresh air. She was lacking that. He was crowding her so much.

“You’re …” she choked, stumbling over that word alone. “You want me.”
It was more like a harsh condemnation than a statement. Dane’s visage displayed alertness, knowing that she had figured out that the hard protrusion was not from the butt of his sword.

Dare moved, a friction building between them. “Wouldn’t you if you haven’t had a woman in a thousand years?”

Words were lost on Rayne, coherent thoughts gone from mind. They still were as his lips sought hers in a luscious kiss. Rayne struggled against him, warding off the arrows shooting inside her, the temperate sensation inching over her body. She felt herself slacken, broken against him. His lips was the only thing that held her captive, yet she was captivated by the wiles of his skilled tongue, sweeping inside to taste her.

Rayne moaned, digging her nails into the corded flesh at his muscular shoulders. He retaliated in kind by tugging at her tunic, working the strings loose. She then came to her senses. Why in the hell was she kissing him? Why was she allowing for him to work his magic upon her?

Frowning, Rayne pushed at nothing but rock. Dare didn’t budge, his weight clearly unmovable. He released her lips, his own bruised from the harshness of kissing her. The back of his fingers caressed a smooth cheek, his eyes slowly unmasking themselves to release a stare so heated, Rayne could have burned alive.

He scowled visibly, silvery brows pushing together. “Don’t.”

Rayne traded a guarded look with him. “Let go. I came to free you, nothing more. I did not come here to become your woman.”

Dare’s hands snaked around her waist, inching their way beneath her woolen tunic. Rayne’s eyes narrowed in fury as she snorted at the audacity of the man. “Then why else are you here? You might be warrior, but it is suicide in itself to come here alone. You are, after all, still a woman. And you were chosen to come to me for a reason.”

Rayne’s eyes flashed. “What reason could that possibly be?”

“I know what has happened to the Vlaslir clan,” he disclosed. “There is not that many of us left.”

“Us?”

“Look at your hair, your eyes. No other clan possesses such a combination except for ours. You are a descendant.”

“And the purpose of you being released?”

“To bring the Vlaslir family back onto the face of the earth,” he breathed, giving her waist a gentle squeeze. “You are the only one who can help me achieve this goal.”

Rayne defiantly lifted her eyes. “Help you? Why should I?”

He lowered his lips to hers against hers again, brushing against her puffy mouth. They were panting, exchanging breath. Dare didn’t answer but his eyes did, lighting with an intensity that made her quiver inside and out, desire burning her.

So this is what lust is, she pondered as he sought her mouth again, teasing her, making her blaze with a glow that made her toes curl. His hands plumaged her warm, dark flesh. It was as if he suddenly wanting her to feel the passion of the frenzy she had erupted in him. But that wasn’t entirely of her doing. She was ignited with a fire that leisurely exploded inside her belly, churning deep inside.

Dare lifted her tunic, baring her to the waist. He immediately ducked down to snatch a semi-erect nipple between his teeth and pulled. His tongue gently teased the trapped bud, almost tickling her into submission. Rayne arched her back, pulling his head down to her.

She didn’t quite understand why she was enjoying the sensations shooting up and down her spine, but she was starting to take pleasure in what it was doing to her. She had never felt the like. No man had ever shown her what pleasure could come between the joining of the opposite sex. The gratifying pain throbbed within her and increased as he drew as much of her breast into his mouth, sucking strongly.

Rayne squirmed as his hand moved down her body, sneaking into her leggings to seek out the growing pearl between the swollen folds of flesh, now damp with need. His fingers crawled inside, testing her endurance, enjoying the way she whimpered with severe desire.

Dare smiled with conceitedness, his eyes shining with covertness. “That’s it, my little warrior,” he purred softly. “Feel a thousand years of abstinence.”

He wrapped her legs around him, nestling himself at the apex of her thighs. He rubbed against her, the sexual friction enough to make her moan louder, her echoing being heard throughout the silent house.
His fingers were still inside her, still making her hot with this desire to have in inside her. She couldn’t contain herself. She found herself voicing what she wanted.

“Please,” she implored breathlessly. “I need…”

“What?” he goaded.

“You,” she nearly snarled, hating to admit anything to anyone. “I need you to fill me. Now.”

Dare stripped her out of her leggings, also getting rid of his own. Her grasped her bottom harshly as his hard, male organ moved closer to her awaiting sanctuary. He lowered his lips to her ear, blowing puffs of air that stirred tendrils of her hair.

“Bring me to life,” he exhaled before he surged deep.

“Ahh!” Rayne screamed as she jumped from her sleep, clearly startled by what she was conjuring up in her mind. She looked frantically from side to side, sweat rushing down her body like a waterfall. Her sister and brother rested on the bed beside her, both obvious to her distraught. Or her foresight.

She had dreamed the same vision again. She had ignored it before, but now, she understood the meaning. Her village was going to burn. Her family was going to be slaughtered like animals. Yet she would survive.

These things were destined to happen and it wouldn’t be long until they did.

Rayne glimpsed at her latent siblings, resembling darling angels in the pale moonlight. But she could still fight against what would happen to them, at least. They weren’t her real family, but they were the only ones who were courteous to her. She was thankful for their sacrifice. She only wished there was something more she could do on their behalf.

Vigilantly, she replaced her head back to the pillow, shutting her eyes. But no matter how much she tried to disregard it, it kept coming back, whispering, haunting her.

Wake me up…