The War of Six Crowns: The Heir's Choice

The Nightmare Man

Callan tossed and turned, restless despite her exhaustion. Something was wrong. She shivered and hugged herself. The moon's rays streamed through a window, but beyond the illuminated square was darkness. Someone lurked there. His soft breaths stirred the air. Callan's every instinct screamed in warning. This wasn't one of the Nordians. She tried to ask who it was, but her voice became thick in her mouth, sticking to her lips.

The intruder's silhouette moved past the window and sauntered to her bed. She couldn't move. Her body was heavy, unresponsive. The man pressed his knee into the mattress and leaned over her, his hands at her sides.

The moonlight caught his face, revealing the scar stretching across it. Him! The man of her nightmares. The one who'd tried to kidnap and kill her. But how? He'd died that day.

"No," she whispered, tossing her head to the side. He couldn't be real.

But real or not, he leaned down and trailed kisses along her jaw and neck. Callan couldn't breathe. Shivers shot through her body. Please no...

"Wake up, my love," he whispered against her lips, kissing her more.

Callan's eyes shot open, but the nightmare continued. She tried to scream. His bruising lips muffled the sound. His body pinned her down. No. No. No. She hit his chest. He laughed. A sound from her nightmares. He caught her hands in one of his and smothered her with his kisses. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She was trapped.

No.

No wait.

She bit his lip as hard as she could. He jerked back with a curse and she screamed again. Someone would hear. Someone would help. He slapped her with his free hand. Pain radiated from her cheek, adding to her growing terror. She wanted to scratch him, kick him. Anything to escape. Anything. But he hadn't let go.

"Oh you'll pay for that, love..."

She trembled, writhing in an attempt to free herself. She screamed again. This couldn't be happening. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

He chuckled, pressing in closer. "No one will come, love."

"I beg to differ," Quin said from the darkness. His sword's blade gleamed in the moonlight as he pressed the tip to her captor's side.

The nightmare man tensed, then slowly moved away from her. Callan scrambled back against the headboard, clutching her bed covers to her chest. She gasped in ragged breaths, shaking.

He sneered at Quin. "Who are you?"

"Strange," Quin said. "I was going to ask you the same question before I run you through."

"I'm her fiancé," he said. "So you see, I have more right to be in her chambers than you."

Fiancé? This couldn't be. It couldn't be true. She'd escaped him before. Now she had to marry him? No. No no no.

She shook her head. "You're not," she whispered.

Faolan sent her a lop-sided smirk. The scar she'd given him disfigured it into something grotesque. "Now who's this? More importantly, what is he doing here?"

Callan took a deep breath, steeling herself. She'd have to put up with this man's cruelty at some point. But not tonight. Even if it killed her, she couldn't let him see the depths of terror he'd caused. She squared her shoulders and got out of bed, facing him with all the regal arrogance the elves had drilled into her since arriving at Caranth.