Page 18 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

“Don’t worry, I told you I don’t do that,” he said, “but I will be violating you in other ways.”

Elijah removed the Voleric pendant from his pocket. He gripped it in a tight fist, closing his eyes and projecting his power to her mind. Her body vibrated under the hand he still had on one of her legs. For a short moment, she resisted, and he felt something strange. It was like the magic of her own seeped into him. Obviously, he had known about Elven light, but it didn’t feel like typical elf magic. It was as if she was vibrating in perfect time with his own power. Like they were matched. She kept trying to push him away, but she was weak, and soon she slumped forward, lost in her own dream.

Elijah looked around in her dark space, vivid images parading around him from her mind’s dream state.

The grass began to grow. Bright, lush green covered the ground. In the distance, a spacious, towering village stood. The homes and buildings reached high above the trees and cast dark shadows over the open field within its stone-covered walls.

Elijah spent most of his life in Zemira, never venturing far enough to see the other countries or meet their rulers, if there were any. He would have no idea where that place was. The people coming and going inside the town were not dressed as royalty, but they didn’t appear poor either.

Little children ran outside one of the gated homes. Their pointed ears showed, and magic radiated from their fingertips.

Was this a Fae or Elven village? Elijah wondered.

They laughed and played while Janelle sat by a tree at the far end of what looked like a garden. Her hair shone brightly in the beaming sun. She smiled as the children surrounded her, but her eyes went dark as she spotted Elijah. The children disappeared as quickly as they manifested themselves in her dream. She dropped the book she had been reading and trudged forward.

“What is this!?” she asked, pointing around as bits and pieces of her dream fell apart.

“You tell me,” he replied, looking around with her.

She pressed her lips together.

Elijah smirked, stepping around her. “This,” he said, gesturing his hands around, “is your dream state. I know it’s scary at first, but you will give me what I need to know if you relax. And, unfortunately for you, you will not be able to shut me out.”

Janelle stepped back, but he reached out, gripping softly onto her fingers, and pulled her in. He held her there, using his other hand to run down her bright, white hair.

Elijah leaned in and kissed her gently against the cheek, feeling her body go rigid against his touch. When he removed his lips from her skin, he whispered, “Who sent you?” Her head shook. “Where is this place?”

Janelle tried to move from him, but he gripped harder.

“Where are we?” He looked around again.

A low voice in the distance called for her, drawing his attention to look up.

The voice belonged to a tall, brunette man in a long black cloak who hurried toward them. Unlike the children, he didn’t look Elven or Fae. His almond-shaped eyes were azure blue, and his warm honey skin glowed like the clouds from a Zemiran sunset. There was something about him that was profoundly masculine. The way he held himself coiled in tightly controlled strength, like a jungle cat. His sharp jawline was covered in dark scruff, and he had wavy hair that looked permanently messy, like someone had run their fingers through it. Elijah assumed he was about the same age as himself by the man’s smooth and undamaged skin.

“Who is that man, Janelle?” he asked.

“How are you seeing this?” she asked, moving back again; Elijah let her go that time.

“Because your subconscious wants to tell me everything, but you know your life is at risk if you do. I can ask you all the questions I want here, and your desires will always be known.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, Elijah!” she shouted.

“Janelle, baby, get inside,” the man said.

A hint of jealousy ripped through him when the man placed his hand on her waist, pulling her into his broad chest. Though it was only a memory, he felt the urge to tear them apart.

“We need to prepare you for your journey.” He held out his hand, but she wouldn’t take it. Her eyes closed tightly, as if fighting Elijah’s power.

“Wake up!” she shouted at herself, but Elijah stayed focused, wielding his power through the pendant.

The man’s hand remained outstretched. Elijah observed gray smoke curling out of his fingers, sliding up her body and twining around her wrist. Elijah jumped forward, trying to stop the assault, but the unknown stranger held her firm with his power.

He’s a sorcerer, Elijah noted, analyzing the power the man wielded.

Anger contorted the man’s face before he said, “Kill King Elijah, then find me those despicable pirates of the Sybil Curse . . . and get me my Kroneon back!”

Janelle moved her head from side to side, trying to shake the images away from her mind and Elijah’s eyes. She struggled to move away from the man’s grip but couldn’t free herself.

---