Free The Prophecy by Nina Croft

Chapter One
    Kael Hunter stared down from his perch high above the great hall.
    Beneath him, through the pall of ochre smoke, he could make out a score of fire-demons. Kael recognised their leader, Sorien, sprawled on a huge chair and standing next to him, so still that at first Kael thought she was a statue, was Raven Cole.
    At the sight of her, something stirred deep inside him. The sensation took him by surprise. He’d expected to feel guilt, probably pity, but not this burning sense of recognition and longing.
    She was tall, her hair a coal-black cloak around her shoulders, dark against the stark whiteness of her skin. She was naked and slender to the point of gauntness, each rib clearly visible, hip bones sharp beneath her skin. Only her breasts showed evidence of the woman she could be—full, perfectly rounded, tipped by dark-red nipples. They stood out proudly from her body, thrust forward by her arms, which were fastened tautly behind her and chained to the stone pillar at her back. Her head was bowed, her eyes closed.
    Sorien stumbled drunkenly to his feet and she raised her head, her eyes flashing open. She had witch’s eyes, huge, haunting, the irises the palest of silver rimmed with charcoal. And staring down into that hauntingly beautiful face, Kael realized he was in trouble.
    He had come here hoping to save her, but quite prepared to kill her if that was needed to prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled. Now, with only one short glance, he knew that her death at his hands was no longer an option. He cursed silently.
    Directly in front of Raven, suspended from a hook, the body of a young man hung lifeless. Sorien stopped beside it, grabbed a handful of blond hair and tugged back the head. He swore viciously and dropped it in disgust.
    “Dead,” he muttered. He swung round to face Raven. “What are you staring at, bitch?” He took a step towards her and she stood up straighter, bracing herself for the blow she obviously knew was coming.
    Sorien lifted one huge fist and slammed it into her belly. The force drove her backwards into the stone pillar, but she was held upright by her chains. She hunched over against the pain then slowly straightened. She stared up into Sorien’s face and this time her eyes were not expressionless. They were filled with hate, and Kael caught his breath at the depth of feeling in those enormous eyes.
    “I’m glad that he’s dead.”
    Sorien had turned away. At the woman’s soft voice he swung round.
    “What did you say?”
    “I said, I’m glad he’s dead, he’s free of you.”
    “Unlike you, my pretty.” He stroked a hand down the flawless line of her cheek, over her throat, lower until he cupped one perfect breast in his huge hand. His fingers tightened on her, the claws digging into the soft, pale flesh and he twisted viciously.
    This time she couldn’t hold back her sob of pain, and Sorien smiled, his hand dropping to his side.
    “What?” he asked. “Were you not pleased with your present?” He glanced again at the dead man. “We brought him here for you. He died because of you.”
    Her eyes closed briefly; when she opened them they were blank once more. “You murdered him. I would that you would do the same kindness to me.”
    “Don’t worry,” he said, “your time’s coming. Another month and I’ll see you dead and the prophecy fulfilled.”
    “Are you so sure of that?” She smiled, showing sharp white teeth. “Do you want to know what I have seen in your future, Sorien, king of the fire-demons?”
    “Be silent, witch.”
    “Or what?” she asked, the scorn clear in her voice. “You’ll kill me? I don’t think so. Not just yet anyway. No, I think you must listen to what I have seen in your future. It will not take long, for you have not much life left.”
    “Shut up!”
    She laughed softly. “Do you wish to know the manner of your death?”
    Up on his perch, Kael felt a shiver of awe ruffle his feathers. It had been rumored that she had