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    Through Time-Compulsion
    Through Time-Compulsion
    Through Time-Compulsion
    Ebook288 pages4 hours

    Through Time-Compulsion

    By Claudy Conn

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    About this ebook

    Frankie and Graely’s story continues with new dangers threatening the peace.
    A threat like no other has entered the Human Realm and means to release both Pestale and Hordly from the Dark Realm.
    An Evil who can travel through time to get what he wants...and he wants Frankie.
    A threat to Frankie and Graely's bond comes from within the Daoine Fae when they least expect it.
    Bray, Prince Breslyn’s son and his human friends break all the rules as they jump in to help, but they are in deadly danger.
    Will Frankie and Graely’s love survive it all?
    Will the Human Realm survive the Dark Evil?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherClaudy Conn
    Release dateMay 29, 2014
    ISBN9781311883285
    Through Time-Compulsion
    Author

    Claudy Conn

    New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Claudy Conn is a multi published author who got her start with her bestselling historical/regency romances.She tells us that she fell in love with the fantasy/paranormal genre and created a world of paranormal.She hopes you will read and enjoy and join her on her facebook where she loves to interact with her readers.page.http://www.facebook.com/pages/Claudy-Conn-Paranormal-Romance-Author/135826686471445

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      Book preview

      Through Time-Compulsion - Claudy Conn

      Contents

      Through Time—Compulsion

      Books by Claudy Conn

      Copyright Page

      ~ Prelude ~

      ~ One ~

      ~ Two ~

      ~ Three ~

      ~ Four ~

      ~ Five ~

      ~ Six ~

      ~ Seven ~

      ~ Eight ~

      ~ Nine ~

      ~ Ten ~

      ~ Eleven ~

      ~ Twelve ~

      ~ Thirteen ~

      ~ Fourteen ~

      ~ Fifteen ~

      ~ Sixteen ~

      ~ Seventeen ~

      ~ Eighteen ~

      ~ Nineteen ~

      ~ Twenty ~

      ~ Twenty-One ~

      ~ Twenty-Two ~

      ~ Epilogue ~

      Excerpt: Spellbound—Legend

      ~ One ~

      ~ Two ~

      About Claudy Conn

      Read more about Claudy Conn’s books

      Through Time—Compulsion

      Books by Claudy Conn

      available at smashwords.com

      Through Time Series

      Through Time—Pursuit

      Through Time—Whiplash

      Through Time—Slamming

      Through Time—Frankie

      Through Time—Compulsion

      ~

      Legend Series

      Spellbound—Legend

      Shee Willow—Legend

      Prince in the Mist (Novella)

      Prince Prelude—Legend

      Aaibhe—Shee Queen (Novelette)

      Trapped—Legend

      Free Falling—Legend

      Catch & Hold—Legend

      ~

      Shadow Series

      ShadowLove—Stalkers

      ShadowHeart—Slayer

      ShadowLife—Hybrid

      ~

      Hungry Moon Series

      Hungry Moon: Quicksilver

      Hungry Moon: Destiny

      Hungry Moon: Jodi

      ~

      Witches, Warlocks, and Dark Magic

      Dark Love

      Netherby Halls

      Lady X

      Journey

      ~

      Risqué Regencies

      Myriah Fire

      Oh, Cherry Ripe

      Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

      Taffeta and Hotspur

      Wildfire Kiss

      After the Storm

      Runaway Heart

      Lady Bess

      Lady Star

      Serena

      Mandy

      Disorderly Lady

      Madcap Miss

      ~

      Multi-book Bundles

      The Complete Legend Series

      Through Time Series Box Set

      Claudy Conn’s Bestselling Regencies

      Through Time—Compulsion

      By

      Claudy Conn

      Copyright Page

      Through Time—Compulsion

      By Claudy Conn

      http://www.claudyconn.com

      Copyright © 2015 by Claudy Conn

      First edition edited by: Kathryn Riehl

      Second edition edited by: Karen Babcock

      Cover Artist: Kendra Egert

      All rights reserved

      Published in the United States of America

      Smashwords editions

      First edition, May 2014

      Second edition (in Through Time Series Box Set), March 2015

      Second edition (as single title), April 2015

      Excerpt of Spellbound—Legend

      Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

      No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

      Have you ever felt as though you couldn’t stop yourself from doing what you knew you shouldn’t do? Have you?

      Compulsion.

      ~ Prelude ~

      SILOAM HAD BEEN a force amongst his kind. Now, all he could do was fold his dark wings around himself and drift.

      He was the only son of a mighty and beloved ruler. His realm had enjoyed thousands of years of peace and tranquility, thanks to his father’s efforts to keep order after their Great War. As he floated through space, unable to direct himself because his strength had been sapped, he closed his eyes and dreamed of better days.

      Who would have thought he would have raised his hand to his father?

      Hadn’t he loved him? Siloam remembered loving him all those years ago.

      His race of immortals had loved his father. Indeed, his father had been worshipped like a god among lesser gods. So they were—immortals with the power of the ages.

      He remembered the day he had taken his place beside his father and discovered he was equally revered by the hordes cheering in the palace courtyard.

      His race had not always been content. There had been times of power struggles, but his father had put together a compromise leaving them with only one thing left to fight: the horror of boredom.

      The never-ending weight of ennui palled, and it brought back pockets of discontent. Some had begun to investigate unspeakable acts of darkness. Time, endless time, had not been a friend to the citizens of Bogman.

      Siloam warned his father that their race was losing itself to an addiction with the art of black magic. It was like a drug—once started, it stole the soul and the will to stop.

      He looked to his father, the king, to correct the problem. Why couldn’t he correct the problem? His father had ruled through thousands of years with a kind and steady hand, but he only waved it off as a phase his people were going through.

      As it chanced, Siloam’s lifelong friend took him one night to a nightclub of sorts, but it was more than that. Black magic was the chief source of entertainment there, and Siloam found himself intrigued but never so much until he saw her.

      None had ever opposed his father, but then she came into their lives—and all was lost. She, like his father, like him, had the glorious wings of their ancestors. It was the sign of royalty.

      She, with the glorious eyes, the raven hair that made him long to take it in his hands and bury his face in it. She, with the full breasts and small waist … Duska.

      His mother had been lost in that final battle so long ago. His father had never wanted another bride, until she came along. Duska was like no other. That she wanted his father and not him was a sore irritation.

      His father took her to his bed and then made her his wife.

      Siloam coveted his father’s wife.

      She was everywhere he went. He couldn’t hide from what he felt, and it made him sick inside. What he felt and what he wanted made him wish evil things. Discontented, he began picking fights with his father, taking opposite sides on the political front, and perfecting the black magic he had learned.

      He had been right to believe it was addicting. He knew he was losing himself to his dark power, but he couldn’t stop. Losing Duska to his father had driven him further down its promising road. He began losing himself in illusions of her in his arms.

      One day he awoke from one of these illusions and realized he needed more. He needed her, at any cost.

      He roused an opposition party. There were always some that could be swayed, and he swayed them. Before long his party grew, and by the end of that year, his opposition party had been driven into a frenzy of revolt.

      Each day more followers joined him, for he represented new and modern points of view while his father represented old and staid traditions. His father took a look around and called in the Council. They wrote up a new law prohibiting the use of black magic, but it was too late. His father had finally seen what black magic could do—what it already had done to his people and his son.

      He had not believed his son in time, and that had proven to be a tactical error his son would use against him.

      So many of their citizens had begun using black magic and illusion to enliven their humdrum lives. Even more had dipped into horrible fantasies to relieve their boredom. Siloam easily won those factions over with the excitement that his promises engendered in them. They wanted change, and he said he would give it to them.

      He couldn’t stop wanting—needing—Duska.

      Not even the black magic he had learned and used could make him stop wanting her. Illusions of her continued to leave him dissatisfied.

      What astounded him was the fact that Duska didn’t even seem to like him. His usual expertise at seduction and charm only made her turn a cold shoulder in his direction.

      He grew furious with her.

      She wouldn’t be seduced by him, and in the end he had taken her by force.

      He put up a shield around them so no one could hear her screams—and, oh, how she screamed!

      Even as he threw her to the floor and ripped off her clothing, even as he tore into that coveted honeyed cleft between her thighs, he knew life would no longer be the same, but he had not been able to stop. The darkness blotted out everything but his own need.

      She was his father’s bride. She was Queen Consort, and he had taken her by force. He remembered now without remorse how he had approached her in the long hall and before she knew what he was doing had shifted them to his bedroom.

      Even now he could remember her scent.

      Her response to his violation? She used her white magic and threw him across the room. It excited him further. He violated her again and again. When he stopped and rolled over to lie on his back, she got up, sobbing, and attempted to escape him.

      With the flick of his wrist he used black magic and stopped her as she ran across the room.

      With the flick of his wrist he laid her on his bed, where once again he ravaged her without restraint. He didn’t stop even when her blood covered his sheets.

      He felt her go limp with a wave of emotion. Something clicked in his brain. Something, perhaps concern for her—he could no longer remember.

      She managed to get to her feet and stood silent and naked before he realized what she was doing.

      She put up her hand, and her Death Dagger appeared in her fist. As he bellowed, NOOOO, she plunged it into her heart.

      Outside, at a casual meeting of the elders, his father felt and heard her death knell.

      He shifted into Siloam’s room. He looked from his son to his wife and fell to his knees as he pulled her limp and lifeless body into his arms.

      Siloam had never seen his father cry like that before.

      That had been the beginning of the end for all of Bogman.

      War broke out shortly after that.

      He and his father both were brokenhearted. He was already lost; he knew, even then he knew, he had stepped over the line. He had gone over to the dark side. He pitied only himself for his loss of Duska.

      As it came to pass, he met his father in battle, and when he lifted the Death Weapon against his parent on that final day, he saw the shock in his father’s eyes.

      His father did not defend himself as Siloam ripped his Death Dagger through the air and took off his father’s head. Without emotion he watched his father’s head, the king’s head, roll away.

      His realm was then plummeted into chaos.

      Although they were immortals, immune to death from aging and disease, able to recover from many wounds, Death Weapons and Death Bombs made with the dust of Bogman could and did kill them in massive numbers. In the end, brother killed brother, and all was lost.

      In a fit of frenzy, Siloam, the Prince of Bogman, waved his all-powerful hand of dark magic and slew hundreds upon hundreds of his race. He hated them. He hated them all, for he was lost and needed to hate something.

      His race turned on him and on each other. Destruction took his realm and turned it into a cemetery. He was left wounded by magic and crawled off to watch his world implode. Too many Death Bombs had been detonated; they had destroyed not only each other but also the land.

      Siloam lay there, on the ground, death all around him, sick of mind and heart, his orb just within reach. He lay, his body wasting away withering in his realm, now a desert devoid of life. The Orb his father had given him all those years ago lay just within his reach. He was broken, weak, and needed to heal himself. He was scarcely able to crawl the few feet to his Orb. All he had left was his black magic, his gold rope, and his Orb.

      He had asked his Orb what he should do. It showed him another realm—the Human Realm. It showed him the Dark Fae Princes Hordly and Pestale manipulating time and opening a portal to the past.

      Take me there, he managed to ask of his Orb. "Use his portal …"

      His Orb called upon Pestale’s portal, created an entry point to it on Bogman, and took Siloam to it. Before he could crawl into the portal, however, explosions rocked his realm, and the link between Bogman and the portal was broken. Instead of taking him to another time and another realm, the corridor was broken in half, and Siloam was left careening through space and time. He floated in a space devoid of everything, and his body shriveled from lack of sustenance.

      What would it take to die, he wondered. He called on his Death Dagger. He thought it time to take his own life, but he was too weak to hold his weapon, and it returned to its private space beside him.

      His Orb, following the last order it had received, searched for an entry point to Pestale’s portal. It finally found one, and Siloam, using the last of his strength, managed to get inside it. When he emerged he found himself withered, hungry, and in pain of mind and body in a frozen, mountainous land. He held his Orb in one skeletal hand, and his gold rope was still fastened at his waist. He crawled on his belly over the snow and took shelter in a cave.

      In the dark, cold cave he lay on his back as he tried to recoup.

      He used the last of his strength and power to call on what little magic he had and cocooned himself against the elements of a foreign world.

      His body was shriveled. Lost was the handsome, muscular prince he had once been, and in its place was a wraith. He remained in the cave for over six of the Human Realm’s years, his mind counting off the days, the months, the seasons, even as he lay dormant.

      His dark side whispered while he slept, telling him that he could live by doing what his kind had done a hundred thousand years ago … feed on living things.

      In the latter part of the spring of his sixth year in the cave, he removed himself from his self-made cocoon. It was still cold, however, and he went into a dream state as he waited.

      He dreamed of her, of the black-haired Duska who had taken her life because he had defiled her, and still the only remorse he felt was that he had lost her.

      Hunger and dissatisfaction gnawed at him, the scent of spring came to his nostrils, and he awoke.

      The first thing that came his way was a fly. It buzzed by his nose and annoyed him. It landed on his ear, and he twitched. He knew what he had to do.

      He felt repulsed by his need, but he was starving.

      He didn’t consider the insect food in the usual sense. The fly landed once more on him, this time on his mouth. Siloam drained it of its life-force, just as his ancestors had done before they had given up the practice of taking living things and sucking out their energy.

      It didn’t do much for him. It was only a fly. He needed a larger living thing. He needed so much more.

      A day went by, and a woodland spider crawled over his emaciated body, came to his lips, and bit him. His eyes opened, and once again he sucked in the life-force of a living creature.

      Later that same day when a rat happened by, he willed it to come near, even though compulsion was a power that had been forbidden among his kind.

      What did he care for rules? He had broken most of them already.

      He had to survive. He compelled the rat without blinking. He took its life-force and felt some strength return.

      He had been a prince, son of a beloved king, and he needed to survive.

      He remembered thinking once that Duska wanted a king. If he had been king, perhaps she would have wanted him. He had said that to her, and she had sneered at him. She told him that she would not have cared if his father had been no more than an ordinary immortal. She loved his father—only his father.

      Those words had sent him into a blind fury. Her words had tortured him, and in a fit of madness he’d raped her. He wouldn’t think about that now.

      He had been chosen to live. He would recover. He was the sole survivor of his race, and he would rule again.

      His Orb had given him glimpses of the Dark Princes and their unsuccessful attempts to take over the Human Realm. He would not make their mistakes. He would emerge from this cave, unfurl his huge expanse of wings, and do what the Dark Fae had tried to do and failed. He would rule the Fae and the humans alike. He would rule them all.

      What he needed immediately was a larger life form.

      He waited.

      No peeking, Daddy! I’m gonna find the best hiding spot ever! The voice floated up to his cave, followed by giggles.

      He was so weak and ashamed of his weakness.

      Such a young girl, innocent, and with her whole life ahead of her. She was full with a driving, living force, and he needed that force.

      He knew at once she was a child in the Human Realm, a child. His kind revered children. Children had been a rare treasure among his kind, as immortality had a price. Bearing children had not come easy. Children were prized, fostered, and adored by all. However, no one in Bogman but he had survived, and it was his duty to do whatever was needed to continue, to take, and to endure. It was his duty.

      He decided she would serve him. He would take her life-force. He would revere her in this way. She would be a sacrifice to the continuation of his race, he rationalized.

      She was young, playing the game children in his own realm enjoyed, hide and seek with her father. He had often played this game with his own parents when he was a child.

      When he heard her giggle, he used his mind to invade hers. He compelled her to quietly make her way up the slope beyond the rocks and to the edge of his bleak cave.

      He peered through the dark and saw her. She was, in form, not unlike his kind, though mentally she was a savage compared to his advanced race. He easily convinced himself it didn’t matter that he meant to take her life. She was food.

      She was a child of the humans. Did the humans matter? No. He was a superior being. They were all beneath him. She would be a sacrifice, which would make her an honored being. He was honoring her.

      He compelled her closer, and she came to him. Her pretty face held eyes that were glazed over, and he willed her to open her mouth. Like a vampire taking blood, he took all that she was, absorbing into himself all of her lovely youth, expectation, and vital energy.

      When he was done, her body lay in a collapsed heap before him, shriveled, leathered, and unrecognizable. Siloam felt nothing but more alive.

      He stood to his full height, which was considerable. His skin was still wrinkled and his body was still hunched, but some of what he had been had returned.

      He waited.

      He knew, because his race had studied humans, that their nature was barbaric and warlike. They were, to him, much like the animals the humans were fond of making into pets. True, they were sentient, cared for their young, and had an instinct for survival coupled with cunning problem-solving abilities., but he would rule them all, because he had the spell of compulsion. He could compel enough of them to be his enforcers that he could reign over the land.

      He knew the child’s father would come in search of her soon.

      His realm was dead, but this Human Realm was vibrant and needed him to show them the way.

      First, however, he needed more food.

      As these thoughts collided, the child’s father charged into the cave, calling her name. Siloam did not see a thinking creature. He saw only food.

      A moment later—and that was all it took, a moment—Siloam had compelled the man to stand before him. He looked at the man and decided that humans were puny. Without another thought, he sucked out the life-force of the child’s father.

      He smiled for the first time in a very long time. Perhaps people would come in search of these two. He smiled with cold calculation. He would compel them to keep away from his cave for now while they searched for the child and her father.

      He looked at the shriveled bodies of the child and her father. He felt nothing but the soothing knowledge that he was on his way back. Soon he would fully recover, soon, very soon.

      He needed a few more humans to feed on to regain his full power. He would need to be careful though not to draw attention to himself.

      Deep inside the cave … he waited.

      ~ One ~

      FRANKIE DODGED HER father’s attack and rushed to Graely, who had been watching her training session from the observers’ stage that circled the sandy ring.

      She jumped up and hugged him around his neck and then wrapped her legs around his body. She called out his name over and over as she planted a flurry of kisses all over his face. She leaned back to look into his eyes as he laughed out loud.

      Well, then, have ye been bored, my Dark One? she teased.

      I never get bored watching you, but your father is staring daggers at me right now. Go on, sweetlife, get back in the ring with him and practice, Graely told her. Frankie

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