Dark Mercy by Rebecca Lyndon

 
    June 1098, outside the walls of Antioch
     
    She came from the water.
    Richard of Guildford caught sight of someone rising from the waves of the Orontes. Gooseflesh rose up along his arms despite the lingering heat of day. He couldn’t tell through the dark desert night who disturbed the surface of the river, but he held up his balled fist, silently signaling the eight men following behind him to stop. Richard hadn’t kept them alive on their trek to the Holy Land these past three years by ignoring his gut instincts.
    They were far from the reinforcements of the siege camp, and, even though Richard believed to his core that his men were the best there were, none of them would stand a chance against a large enough ambush.
    He pulled his sword from its scabbard as a lithe form rose above the water, a lone woman that moved with an unearthly grace. Gossamer silks clung to her body as she floated toward the bank. Silver moonlight glistened off the curve of her breasts and the wide swell of her hips. Her dark mound showed clearly beneath the thin fabric. Richard tightened his grip around the hilt of his blade even as his cock hardened.
    She smiled as she stepped onto the grassy bank. Hardly the reaction one expected of a seemingly defenseless woman facing an armed band of warriors. But this was no ordinary woman. Even if Richard had not seen her gliding across the river, he still would have sensed it. Her amethyst eyes sparkled with their own light.
    “Put down your weapons.”
    Richard heard her voice, clear and loud in his mind, but her full, red lips had not moved. He was certain of it.
    When Richard shook his head in an exaggerated manner, commanding his men to stand firm against her, she waved her hand. The steel tip of his sword was forced to the ground with such strength that it buried in the cracked earth at his feet. Richard turned to see that the same unseen force had disarmed them all.
    “What are you?” Richard demanded.
    The willowy creature slid her gaze appreciatively down his body as she stepped closer. Her dark nipples puckered. “I go by many names, but you may call me Ashira.”
    “And I say, we are better off calling you by your true name,” Richard’s second in command, Rhys, said from directly behind him. “Demon.”
    “Whatever name you choose for me is of little importance. You should be more interested in what I can do for you.”
    “We want nothing from you, she-devil,”” Richard said.
    She dragged a slender finger down his chest. Richard tried to raise his hand to slap her away but found he was frozen, held fast by invisible bonds.
    “Is that so? Your minds, all of them, tell a different story. Each one of you is a powerful warrior. Together you are perhaps the most potent fighting force in this war. This crusade of yours has made brothers of you, but it has also worn you thin. You are tired,” she said, weaving through the line of men as her dark magic held them immobile. She stopped in front of each man, looking deep into his eyes, taking his measure. “Tired of watching good men cut down. Tired of watching your friends waste away with disease, their minds devoured by madness. But most of all, you are tired of waiting to get your due.”
    “Lies,” Geoffrey Stark said as she passed him, but his voice lacked conviction.
    But her words were all too true. They had all started out on this journey with thoughts of securing their places in heaven, but if the last three years had shown them anything, it was that hell was not some far off realm. The fires of perdition would pale in comparison to the agonies they had all endured in this infernal place.
    “I can give you all that you desire,” she said.
    “You can end the siege?” Richard asked.
    “Of course. But I can give you much more than that.”
    “What else?” he asked.
    “Riches. Power. Immortality.”
    Richard struggled to free himself from her spell, but he was hit by a powerful wave of lust as she returned to him. He