by Wyatt, Dani
“Healing, he says! Only healing she’s ever been good at was in making a man forget his aches. One in particular.”
Laughter followed his words and I felt torn between loyalty to my friend and fear for my own safety.
My eyes drifted around the room, and knew these were the same men that had accosted me and the washerwomen in the town square. Men of Clan Johnston, I recalled, clearly still garrisoned near the town. They stared at me with an air of arrogance that made me swallow hard.
I could barely talk. “Let me go…”
“I like a little protest when I pay for it,” one of the soldiers said. “If it’s too easy, it’s no fun at all.”
His companions let out lecherous laughs, nodding their agreement as they clapped each other on the backs and took long drinks of their ale.
I looked to Charmaine for help but the coldness I saw in her eyes chilled me to the bone.
“We don’t normally allow your sort here,” she said with a grin. “But this is a special occasion.”
I gulped, my heart thundering. Part of me wanted nothing but to try and flee, but I was here for a reason. Angelica was my friend. Over the last few days, she’d become like a mother and a sister to me, far more than my own kin ever had. I couldn’t leave without completing my task.
“I’m looking for Angelica,” I said, keeping my voice as clear as I could. “Have you seen her?”
“’Course we have.” Charmaine continued to wipe down the bar with a dirty rag. “You’ll find her in the sheriff’s holding cell, getting no better than she deserves.”
I gasped. “For what? She hasn’t done anything wrong. Why are you being so hateful?” I spat out. Charmaine had always had an air of superiority, her father owning the pub seemed to give her a sense of celebrity of some kind, but I had never known her to be outright cruel.
Charmaine laughed. “She’s being tried for witchcraft. They’ll burn her if she’s found guilty.”
I gasped. Witchcraft?
In a daze, I turned for the door, but when I did I found my escape blocked by the Clan Johnston soldiers.
Instinctively, I reached for the knife that Bors had given me, but I was too slow and the men too experienced for me to surprise them. One of them stepped forward and pinned my arms to the bar.
“Please,” I begged. “This is all a misunderstanding. I just want to go find my friend!”
It was as if they didn’t hear me, or didn’t care, blinded by frenzied lust. A second man hiked my skirt up and I felt his rough, greasy fingers on the inside of my calf, then my knee, then my thigh. I screamed at him to leave me alone, but he ignored me.
Desperately struggling against their grip as I begged them to stop, I searched for a means of escape, but I could find none. A third man stepped forward and clapped his hand over my mouth, then tore my blouse from my chest. My eyes filled with tears as I fought with all my might, screaming against his palm for help.
These six outsiders meant to take me by force, and I was utterly and completely powerless to stop them. Bors had warned me about tension with Clan Johnston along the border and I felt I was going to be just the first in the spoils of an oncoming clan war. I tried kicking them between the legs, but the one I recognized as their captain grabbed my ankles.
“Lads, this is going to be a fun ride!” He reached down to undo the buttons on his britches and I squeezed my eyes shut.
I tried to be still as one of them grabbed hold of my breasts, forcing me back onto the bar so that I was completely exposed to them all. Angry tears ran down my cheeks, as I contorted and twisted my body, trying to get away but they were too many and a second later, I was bent over the bar, my skirts pulled up and my knickers down.I pulled to the side, clenching my fist and trying to rend my arm from the grasp of the one soldier holding me tight.
In the low light, they smiled, drooled, stared. Then, as I finally twisted away, at least turning my face so I couldn’t see them, they fell silent. I glanced over my shoulder to find glazed eyes, wide as moons, focused on my bare rear end. In that moment their lewd comments ceased, the pub falling silent.
“Fuck me to hell, look at that—” The one who had me over the bar pulled his hands from my buttocks like they’d been burnt.
I felt the others fall back all at once. They scattered from me like cockroaches fleeing the light.
“Fuck me to hell,” another said, making the sign of the cross over his chest.
The youngest-looking among them looked like he might vomit at any moment. All six moved in unison, backing away.
“She’ll get us all killed. It’ll be our necks, I tell you!”
I slumped as they stared, aware that I was half-naked in the filthy pub, the tears streaming freely down my cheeks as I sobbed into my trembling palms.
“It will be her word against ours. Stick together men, we found her on the side of the road, dress already torn. Go tell that barmaid…if she whispers a word, her fate will be worse than what we promised her if she didn’t find us a fresh pussy for the night.”
It took me mere moments to collect myself, straightening my torn skirt back around my legs as best I could, wondering what was going on.
One instant, they were heated with desire to take me against my will. Then the moment they saw me, I had repulsed them.
It made no sense. Six drunken men were suddenly looking very sober and very pale.
I gathered up my torn blouse, pressing it to my bare chest as I ran for the door, out into the cover of night, where I might be able to hide my shame.
“No, wait! Grab her!” The captain’s voice chased me out, and I sped my pace, heading for the shadows on the other side of the town square. “Don’t you fools know what she’s worth?”
Worth?
What did that mean? What was I worth to them? A few minutes of fun, a break from their own hands, a toy to pass around between them until I was unable to walk? When they saw me, really saw me, they’d been repulsed. Sickened. Believing I’d get them all killed with whatever disease I carried.
Bors must have been repulsed, too. After his lust faded, his need for release sated, he’d found an excuse to ride away, desperate to be released from what was clearly just a cunning man’s conquest of yet another virgin. He’d gone back to battle and war, and we wouldn’t see him again in Weschail.
He’d used me. Toyed with me. Asked me to marry him in jest. I was a game.
As the tears burned down my cheeks, I could almost hear his laughter in the wind.
I truly was now a whore with no home.
Bors
It had been one hell of a long ride.
Marauding patrols of Clan Johnston soldiers moved along the border. War wasn’t upon us yet, but the tension was palpable. Clan Mackay didn’t have their strength in arms, that much was true.
We were valued as prized warriors, stationed in the castle as king’s guards, and known for our prowess in skirmishes, but our numbers did not match the forces of the other clans.
For years, many among us had warned the clan leaders against their policy of paying our neighbors for protection, urging them to train units of our own fighting men for the task. But folly had prevailed and Clan Johnston had realized our weakness.
If they caught me crossing the border, I’d be tortured for information and killed as a spy, and Clan Mackay would have no choice but to let it go. Slow and careful was the only move available to me, and much as I wished for haste I took my time and slipped past their patrols.
I found my priest friend in Gowerton, and he welcomed me into his sanctuary, but I knew I couldn’t stay long. I’d already taken a day longer to get there than I’d intended, and knew that Angelica and Sara would be worried.
I accepted the priest’s hospitality, a bed for a few hours rest and a hot meal, then bade him come to Weschail with me, explaining our predicament.
The frown on his face had concerned me.
“If I leave without word, questions will be asked. I’ll be putting you in danger
, Bors. They’ll search for us. I don’t doubt someone else saw you enter here.”
I growled in frustration, but knew he was right. “But you will marry us?”
“Of course. If your young lady consents, I will perform the ceremony at once. Send for her.”
I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous for a woman. Come to Weschail. Leave as soon as you can without raising suspicion.”
“For you, Bors, I will do what I can. Expect me within the week. When I know there is no suspicion of your visit, I will find an excuse to be gone then I will depart under cover of darkness.”
The return journey had been just as arduous, avoiding the patrols every bit as tiresome, and every fucking minute away from Sara felt like an eternity.
Now, as I rounded the corner and closed in on Angelica’s cottage, I slowed for what felt like the first time since I’d left her. Instead of the warmly-lit windows I expected, the cottage looked cold and dark, and I knew there was something amiss. “Fuck.”
I hopped off my stallion and tied him to the post.
Then, approaching the house, I called out for Sara and Angelica, but got no answer. I drew my blade and went around the back of the cottage, keeping my steps centered and silent, listening for any sound at all.
Entering the house from the rear door, I lit an oil lamp in the corner. The kitchen was just as I’d left it. A check of the bedrooms revealed the same. A window on the first floor had been broken, but it had been covered with a board and there were no fresh shards of glass. There were no signs of struggle, but the house was empty. The whole situation was fucking eerie and it gave me a very bad feeling.
Whatever had happened, it had caused both Sara and Angelica to abandon the safety of their home. A wave of panic and anger rolled through me. Sara’s father was behind this, I was sure of it. That son of a bitch. If he’d laid a single finger on Sara—or Angelica, for that matter—he’d beg for death to relieve the pain I would inflict upon him.
Outside the window, a twig snapped. I kicked open the back door, blade brandished. I thought I was ready for anything, fucking anything, any fight, any confrontation…
But I wasn’t ready for what I saw—not even fucking close. Starting down the garden path was Sara, barely illuminated by the weak moonlight. Her clothes were torn, her hair was a mess, her shoulders bare. Even in the dim light, I could see she’d been crying. I swore to myself there and then, whoever did this would beg for mercy before they drew their last breath.
I slid my blade into its sheath, closed the space between us in three long strides and took her in my arms.
“Who did this? What happened.”
Her hand pressed to her lips, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank goodness, you’re back. I thought it was all a cruel joke…” She was unsteady on the uneven stones of the path and looked as though she might be about to fall.
I dropped my blade and scooped her up. “What happened?”
At first, she tried to be strong for me, but I could tell from the way she clung to me that something, or someone, had terrified her.
“I’m fine. Really, I am,” she insisted. “I’m okay.” She wiped away tears with her small palm while her lips and chin trembled. “I was sure you’d left forever.”
She was reassuring me too much for it to be the truth. Her words sounded forced. “Never. Now, don’t lie to me, my angel. Tell me.”
Sara shook her head. “Never mind me. I’m worried about Angelica. They’ve taken her—the sheriff is holding her on suspicion of witchcraft. They’re planning to try her. They’re out for blood, Bors. We have to help her.”
Angry though I was, I wasn’t surprised. In this place, a woman who used her mind or her body was damn near guaranteed to be labeled a witch. But I’d known Angelica a long time, and I knew the sheriff, too.
The situation wasn’t quite as bad as Sara might think.
“If the townspeople are after her for witchcraft,” I told Sara, “the safest place for her tonight is in that holding cell. The sheriff used to be one of Angelica’s best customers, and one of the few that never treated her badly. That was before he found his wife, but he’s a good man. He’ll look after her.”
She blinked up at me, as if searching my face to see if I was just trying to make her feel better.
“Honest,” I reassured her. “The sheriff won’t harm her. I’m sure of it…now tell me what the fuck happened to you.”
“First tell me what happened in Gowerton.” The more she dodged my questions, the more worried I got. “Are we getting married?”
As much as I wanted to press her for what had happened to her, I could see in her eyes she needed to hear something good. “You will be my wife, sweet Sara. My priest friend is riding behind me. He’ll be here in days and we’ll be married in a secret ceremony. I’m afraid it will only be you, me and Angelica, but that can’t be helped. Once it’s over, there will be nothing anyone can do about it.”
She wrapped her arms around me and nestled her cheek against my chest. “Something good at least.”
I carried her across the kitchen and laid her down on the daybed, kneeling beside her, with my arms still wrapped around her waist. The oil lamp illuminated her, so I could see her better.
“Now I’m going to ask you one more time,” I said, barely containing my anger. “If you don’t tell me what happened, I’m going to take it into my own hands. And I’m not responsible for who gets hurt if I do.” I traced the cupid’s bow of her lip, forcing myself to be calm for just a few moments longer. “So tell me what the fuck happened to you.”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and nodded. And finally did as she was told.
* * *
My rage wasn’t red any longer. It was black. They’d put their fucking hands on my woman, my possession, my future wife. The thought of men anywhere near her made my blood fucking boil.
I’d already sworn to myself that I would kill them—and I would fucking kill them. I’d cut off pieces of them, feeding them bit by bit to the wolves for what they’d done. But first, I had an even more pressing need: to claim her as mine, once and for all. What I was feeling was the most primal of all human impulses. It was the only thing that mattered.
Breeding her to make her mine forever.
Her arms looped around my neck, needing me as much as I needed to be inside her, needing my strength, my security. Her sweet, warm breath hushed at my ear.
“I want you inside me, my king. I need to feel all of you.” Her words echoed my thoughts, her eyes flickering like green flames. “I want you, Bors. Feeling you filling me will make me feel better. It will make me feel safe.”
A flash of the animal inside me ignited, and there was no more holding back.
I grabbed her without finesse, flipping her over on the bed and pulling her up onto her knees in front of me. No other woman had ever or would ever exist; it was as if my past fell away entirely. In her, I had discovered both my purpose and my pleasure.
Kneeling behind her, I parted her ass cheeks and licked the opening of her pussy. At the same time, I circled her dark entrance with my thumb until it opened up enough for me to slide the rough tip inside. I needed her to fucking know, to fucking feel, that any other man risked his goddamned life by even looking at her. That she belonged to me.
“You are my possession, Sara,” I said between gritted teeth. “You called me your king and that is what I will be.” I pulsed my thumb into her ass with one hand, parted her slick pussy lips with my other, opening her up so I could tongue fuck her properly.
Between moans and whines, she said it over and over again, like the good little girl that she was: “I exist to worship all of you…my king.”
Her juices were all over my face. Hearing her call me that name had my cock tearing at its bonds to get to her. I ate her and her release covered me. I drank her down, but the more I had of her, the thirstier I got. She panted, twisting and mewling in the lamplight, grinding out a long snarl.
“What e
lse do you worship?” I bit out, speaking directly into her cunt like it was the source of all truth.
Without a missing a beat, she answered. “I exist to worship…your cock. My king.”
“Fuck yes you do. And my cock will worship your pussy. They are King and Queen, one made for the other. Forever.”
I hiked her skirt over her ass, ripping her under clothes away then yanked my pants down. I was so hard for her, for the thought of breeding her, that my cock ached. Not even getting it out of my pants helped. The only salve for my throbbing cock would be the child I was going to fuck into her ripe womb.
“Except it’s not mine, baby. It’s yours,” I grunted, pressing it to her cunt. “This thick, cum-filled cock is yours as much as you are mine.”
Her toes curled behind her as I pushed inside, and I smacked her ass hard with the palm of my hand, making her buck against me. Fuck yes.
I needed her to feel my protection, my need, because of what had happened. And young though she may be, she was strong. I knew she was woman enough to take all of me. I ground my hips against hers, hitting her special place with the shaft.
“I will keep you pregnant until you can bear me no more children. Every night and every day, I will claim you as mine and keep all that would wish to harm you far away or I will put them in their graves.”
With one arm, I hooked her over her hips and pulled out slightly, making her think the roughest fucking was done. If only she knew. Without warning, I bucked with the force of a rutting boar as her pussy strained around me. Choking my dick as it gushed with its slick honey. I listened to her grunt and seethe as her cervix blocked further entrance to the tip of my demanding cock.
She screamed into the cushions of the daybed in pleasure and surprise. She was soaking me, making me more crazed, knowing my roughness took her to a dark place of pleasure as it did to me as well.
I took her nipples between my fingers as I drove into her from behind. My thigh muscles slapped hard against her ass with every drive. She made the naughtiest moans with every squelching pump.
