Pied

By Brooklyn Knight

She cannot see me, but she can hear me; and that is all I’ll need to make her fall in love... with me.

Everything I’ve ever needed, is right here in my Paradise, including the whining brats I led away from their parents eons ago with my magical flute; but when that sorceress, Niobe La Croix, shows up and suggests that things need to change - that I need to change, I know she has lost her mind. That is, until she presents me with a brown beauty named Melodie, who awakens something deep inside me with her own music. I thought I had everything, but suddenly, I’m considering that maybe I don’t. I’m full of magic and music, but will those be enough to win Melodie’s heart? Especially when she learns that I’m the villain she despises from the folktales of old?

I can’t see him, but his music is like magic, and it restores my belief in true love.

Patrick appeared out of nowhere - not that I can actually see him, but the aura and the vibe he carries is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Sometimes, I think I can actually see his radiance, and when he plays that flute of his, the sound is like healing magic. But my son, Rafael, has reservations. He says he recognizes Patrick from somewhere, though he’s not totally sure. Rafael is my eyes. I want to follow his lead, the way I always do, but Patrick is like magic, and his music is beckoning me closer...

**READER ALERT**

This story contains extremely passionate and descriptive sex scenes. Not suitable for readers under the age of 18 years, or those who may be offended by somewhat graphic descriptions of sexual encounters. This story also contains scenes which include expletives. Brooklyn's characters exhibit real emotions and desires, and though she is their creator, she is also very sensitive to their needs and wants, and works in partnership with them to create their unique HEAs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brooklyn Knight
• Release date: Apr 24, 2021

Brooklyn Knight

Brooklyn Knight is a romance enthusiast who lives in the island of Bermuda and has been writing stories since she was a little girl. Over the years, her gift for designing and bringing characters to life has evolved, and she enjoys creating vivid, memorable characters and unforgettable situations. Her characters are thought-provoking and evocative; and they will draw emotion out of you like water from a well.

Book preview

1

Patrick

‘This Will’

The heavily jeweled courtyard door slid open, and one of the children hustled in as if the sky was falling. Technically, he wasn’t a child. Centuries had passed since I’d lured him and his peers away from their deceitful parents. Had I cared enough to keep count, this boy would probably be seven hundred and something years old, but thanks to the preservation field encompassing Koppelberg, he would never age.

None of them would.

I observed the look on his pale, shivering face. His eyes were as wide as the grapes the brat standing at my side attempted to feed me. His hands were clasped in front of him as he shuddered his way to my glimmering throne. I glared at him, yet his eyes never left the purple carpet training down the center of the aisle.

My assistant, Prometheus, bristled next to me. The girl attempted to feed me another grape, but I shot my hand up and fanned her away.

I tipped my head in Prometheus’s direction. Why has he come here? I demanded. My voice was tight, and my lips barely moved. I have not sanctioned his presence in this court.

Prometheus cleared his throat, but it still rattled when he spoke. Forgive me, Your Worthiness. It was an oversight on my part.

An oversight? I grunted, placing distinct emphasis on the last word.

Forgive me, Your Worthiness. The word came an hour ago, and I neglected to inform you. Prometheus dipped his head, and his shoulders followed.

I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. Prometheus was the only one of all the brats who had a name. When I’d captured the ficken idiots, he’d been one of the oldest, and I’d chosen him to serve on my council. It didn't matter that there were only two people on my council: Prometheus and me. It was my council nonetheless.

But in this moment, Prometheus was completely useless. The fact that this brat would touch his unworthy feet on my royal runner; the fact that he would even show his hideous face in my Court, was evidence that Prometheus had fallen short.

What word are you talking about? I muttered through my teeth.

The word coming forth was that a guest or two has been spotted passing through the secret gate of Koppelberg Hill, he advised quickly.

"The Secret Gate…" I parroted.

Prometheus said nothing.

My eyes thinned. The gate is a secret. I said it another way, hoping he might catch on. No one has been able to find it since its construction. If anyone has transcended it, it must mean –

Your Worthiness, perhaps we should hear what the boy you've called Seventy-Eight has to report, Prometheus suggested carefully. I believe he is the one who spotted them.

My mouth bunched and my gaze slid to the boy, who was now hovering a few feet away from the base of my royal steps. Anyone accessing my divine sanctuary had access to significant power. The forcefield I had erected around Koppelberg Hill had served its purpose for tens of decades. Try as they might, those ficken villagers in Hamelin had never been able to find it, let alone pass its barriers.

Because it was a secret.

Prometheus said nothing, and his lack of adequate response agitated me. But he was correct. I should find out from Seventy-Eight who, or what, had accessed Koppelberg, because if they did not have good reason to stand in my presence, I would kill them.

I returned my gaze to Seventy-Eight, who was now standing in a half-bow at the base of the one hundred and fifty steps, which led to my throne. Even from the bottom, I could see how much he had grown. His hair fell well past his shoulders, and there were strands sprouting on his gaunt face. Indeed, he nearly matched me in height and stature, all six feet, six inches of me; but he would never be anything more than a child in my eyes.

I rubbed my chin and lifted it. Speak.

Seventy-Eight’s head shot up, but his eyes stayed down. Your Worthiness, intruders have been spotted in-house.

Explain.

A woman, Seventy-Eight continued, tone rushed, it’s a woman and a man.

Surely, they are more than this, I suggested, biting back the agitation lifting in my chest.

Indeed, Your Worthiness. They almost obliterated the Secret Gate when they passed through it.

My eyes narrowed and I stroked my beard. What did they look like?

The woman, Seventy-Eight answered promptly, she is a Moor, with deep mahogany skin and blazing eyes the color of pure gold.

I hummed to myself. I knew of these women, the ones with deep skin like bronze. They were exotic and never failed to wield dark magic.

I chortled, pulling my chin some more. And the man?

Seventy-Eight’s eyes stretched wider. A hulking man, he answered, but he is at her side and nothing more. I could feel their energy, Your Worthiness, he continued. The energy of the mahogany woman is very scary.

Scary. I grunted.

The words of a ficken child.

Very little frightened me, especially in Koppelberg. This was my goddamn kingdom, and everything in it moved at my command.

Still…

If this mahogany woman had, indeed, penetrated my complex security system, it might mean she was more than scary.

My jaw cinched and I cast a sideward glance in Prometheus’s direction.

Instantly, he jumped up and retrieved my golden case. When he returned, he held the glittering box in gloved hands.

I scrutinized Seventy-Eight, whose eyes flitted about the palace. Where are they?

I do not know, Your Worthiness.

How could you not know? I asked. The words slid from between my teeth. You said you saw them pass through the Secret Gate. You said –

Yes, Your Worthiness, but the minute they passed through, they vanished, he answered, before I could finish the sentence. They were there, and the next thing I knew –

Suddenly, a ferocious wind whipped through my Court. It was so ferocious the stained-glass windows shook until several shattered, sending colorful shards flying across the courtyard. My servants screamed and fell to their knees, cupping their hands over their ears, while a few of them dashed, looking for cover.

Seventy-Eight dropped to the ground, tears and sobs making his long back heave, and Prometheus remained standing next to me, though the way the case rattled in his hand did not escape my eye.

Everything went quiet, and that was when I noticed that my servants were frozen in place. No one moved. Their chests rose and fell at an unnaturally slow pace, but other than that, nothing.

My eyes shot to Prometheus, whose posture resembled that of those before me, and when I turned to face front, my breath hitched at the sight of a beautiful woman materializing before my eyes.

Seventy-Eight had misrepresented her allure.

The woman was striking. Her bronze skin almost rivaled the splendor of the case in Prometheus’s hands, and her eyes attempted to slice through my red and yellow robe. Her full lips were pursed with purpose, and her hair was wrapped in a luxurious green turban.

I steadied my breaths and allowed my eyes to travel over her gown: a sheath of green material that wrapped around her curvaceous body clung to it like a second skin. Her feet were bare.

I narrowed my eyes, reading his tenor and posture to the letter. I do not want your woman, I advised him, grinning. But if I did…

He growled, black smoke thrusting from his nostrils, and took a menacing step forward, but the woman placed a slender hand against his chest.

I rolled my eyes, already fatigued by the theatrics. Who are you? I demanded. My voice lifted and carried out of the busted-out windows.

The mahogany woman tilted her chin and smiled. Her eyes glittered. Now, I see why the gods intuited me to bestow my gift upon you, she said. Her voice was like the waters of the river rushing outside of the Secret Gate. Is this the way in which you welcome tourists?

I placed my palms against my knees. Koppelberg is not a tourist destination, and those who have tried to visit have died in the process.

She barely flinched.

I have asked you once. I will ask you one more time. I glared at her. Who are you?

My name is Niobe La Croix, she answered, dipping her head in a modest bow.

My eyes widened and then shifted to the man.

And this is Magnum, my mate, she added extending a graceful hand.

Does he not have a tongue of his own?

Niobe chuckled. My mate can speak for himself, just fine, she assured me, but perhaps it is best he remains quiet. When he opens his mouth, it is common for his words to be followed by fire.

Silence.

I now know who the two of you are, I said, interrupting the tense quiet. In fact, I am well aware of your reputation. You are Niobe La Croix, a sister from the bayou.

She smirked. How do you know about me?

You are in the legends, I answered.

As are you, she returned. Your story has been told over the generations by parents attempting to lull their toddlers to sleep.

This made me chuckle. So I’ve been made to understand, I agreed, though I am unsure what details of my fable would assuage an agitated child.

For sure, she said. Your historical actions are grisly.

My historical actions may have been grisly, but they were necessary. I grunted. But in comparison to other stories I’ve heard of modern-day villains, mine should be the least traumatic. But I digress… I lowered my eyes. "Surely, you did not come to discuss the contents of my ficken folktale."

She did not respond.

I straightened my shoulders. "My servant alerted me of your arrival. He said your energy was scary, and now that I know who the two of you are, I am not surprised by this. You yourself are a villain among villains."

Niobe grimaced and took a furtive step in my direction.

I eased my hand over to Prometheus’s frozen, outstretched one, reaching for the glittering box.

Niobe stopped walking, but the grin was still on her face. Correction, Patrick Piper, she said, tone a little lower. "My mate and I, we used to subscribe to a wayward lifestyle. Things have changed."

Have you found god?

I found many of them, she countered, and each was gracious to me. They showed me the error of my ways, and I responded positively. Niobe was still smiling, but suddenly, her mouth quivered. She pushed her shoulders back, and in an instant, her chin was steady.

Anger seared me. I know who you are.

You know who I used to be.

"What is the ficken difference?"

Niobe chuckled. Hopefully, you will see soon enough.

I bristled, uncomfortable by the implied meaning of her words. When I looked at Magnum, his eyes were hard, as was his squared jaw, as if he was ready to lunge at me for disrespecting his mate. I turned my attention back to the mahogany woman and stroked the hair on my chin.

How may I help you, Niobe La Croix? I asked of her. My tone was low, and my hands rolled into tight fists.

You are asking the wrong question, Patrick Piper, she alleged. "I am not here for you to help me. I am here that I may help you."

What the hades are you talking about? I spat. "Why the fick would you think I needed help? You trespassed on my property, but clearly you did not take the time to appreciate your surroundings. You speak of gods, but I am a god. I created this place using my own magic. Everything I have ever needed is here. I pointed to the mass of frozen servants surrounding her and Magnum. These brats move on command and do my bidding. I lowered my arm. Why the fick would I need your help?"

Niobe sighed, as if my compelling speech had barely moved her. Her radiant gown billowed, as if it had been caught in her fleeting breath. The gods have spoken to me, she revealed in a hushed voice. They have issued a mandate.

For me?

For both of us.

I sniffed but said nothing.

You are not a good person, Patrick. You are angry, entitled, and spoiled. You have unforgiveness in your heart.

I tilted my chin, wondering whether I was expected to care about her assessment. I could tell that Niobe La Croix was a powerful woman. The energy she was radiating had blown my ficken windows out, and I could feel her intense aura, pulsating through me like a second heartbeat. Yet, despite her might, she was off her mark if she thought her opinion mattered to me. I barely gave a fick.

I smirked and lowered my gaze. Beautiful Niobe, I am as good as I need to be, I finally informed her.

You kidnapped and enslaved an entire generation of children, she reminded me, voice rising with emotion, children you lured away from their parents in a fit of rage!

A grin spread over my mouth. Their parents deserved to lose them, I informed her. Their parents were liars, deceivers. They hired me for a service, and I upheld my end of the bargain. I rid their town of the vermin that had infested it, and when it was time for them to remit payment… My jaw jerked as I recalled the memory and the slew of memories that preceded it.

Niobe La Croix continued, interrupting my anguished reverie. And because of this minor slight, you have assumed horrible characteristics, and own them proudly.

I snorted. It was not minor, and I am not ashamed of my actions, I asserted.

But you should be, she came back, and it is on this premise, that I have come.

Niobe La Croix was angering me with her assumptions. How dare she think she could come to my Paradise and make suggestions about the way I had seen fit to run things? My eyes flitted to the golden box and for a second, I considered snatching it from Prometheus’s stilled hands. I would put an end to her haughty babbling and knock her off the rickety pedestal she had built for herself. She might have been powerful, and I presumed her mate was too, but I’d battled before, and my magic had always prevailed.

But I waited.

My fists tightened.

Niobe’s eyes dropped and her proud shoulders slackened a touch. I have not come to anger you or to cause harm, she alleged.

Then please state your purpose, because as it stands, you are doing the former, I demanded.

Niobe straightened her shoulders. I have come to offer you a second chance, a do-over.

I leaned forward. And what would make you think I want or need one of those? I whispered.

Because we all deserve one, she replied. I was a bad-girl once, she reminded me. I’ve murdered, and stolen, and lied. It felt good. It gave me access to immediate gratification, possessions. She paused. But the one thing being the bad guy never afforded me was the experience of true love.

I winced.

Love? If that was the punchline, she could pack up her witchery and be gone. Love was definitely something I wanted no part of.

I snorted. So is that the grand prize? I asked pressing my back against my throne, both appalled and amused. Did you expect I would leap at the opportunity to be in love?

No, she answered, and then a slick grin spread over her face. But I have a feeling this will.

2

Patrick

‘Primal’

Before I could even consider the meaning of the witch’s words, the blasting wind whipped up and more of my precious windows splintered.

Niobe La Croix’s hair flew behind her, as if she were riding in a chariot drawn by mad, bolting horses.

My teeth clamped over my lip as I fought against the pressure and I gripped the emerald handles of my throne.

Suddenly, the wind died, and I scanned the immediate area, as I tried to determine where I was. I was away from the courtyard, but my location was a mystery. Everything was white. In fact, the space was so white, I did not know the front from the sides or the back.

I put my hands up, not surprised to feel an invisible barrier blocking an impending advance, and I grimaced as a flash of rage shot through my body.

Who the hades did this witch think she was? Her self-righteous attitude and black magic had caused enough of a disturbance for a million lifetimes. The nerve of her to think she could prance into Koppelberg and offer me an unwanted opportunity. And now, I was caged in this goddamn time-warp, suspended between reality and nothing. There was no sound, no aroma, absolutely nothing to titillate the senses.

She had tricked me, just as those ficken villagers had. My jaw cinched and I reached for the flute hidden in my robe. But then, a debilitating sound cracked the deafening silence.

I froze.

It was a whisper of a sound that ebbed and swelled, until my heartbeat escalated, and my mouth grew slack. Out of nowhere, music, the sweetest music I had ever set my ears upon, sliced through the quiet and pierced my heaving chest. The crisp music of a flute penetrated me, reaching the core of my existence.

My head swiveled from left and right.

From where is it coming?

The expertise. The talent… No one in Koppelberg could play any instrument in this way. I had grown bored of those ficken brats and tried to teach various instruments, to no avail. In fact, their efforts were so abysmal, I had maimed several of them in my fury.

But this person, whomever it was, was skilled.

And the melody was enchanting.

I narrowed my eyes to sharpen my gaze against the harsh, white backdrop and suddenly, like a ghost, a strange woman manifested. My lips parted at the sight of her.

Another Moor…

Her skin was like deep honey. A mop of dangling curls framed her