Captive Heart

by Phoenix Sullivan

  “I couldn’t bear to watch you die.”

  “Have you so little faith in me?” Still, he crushed me to him, and I wept into his chest.

  Ironside himself lifted Nimue onto the bare back of her horse. What need she of saddle and reins when she had only to compel?

  When I looked up, her eyes bored into mine. She smiled. “Did you think I never saw this day?” she asked. “Never saw its ending? This”—she gestured at everything about her—“is as nothing compared to the future still to be.”

  As she cantered away, my knees buckled and I would have fallen had not Marrok borne me up. Then he was thrusting me unceremoniously into Gareth’s arms.

  With a gentle thumb, Marrok brushed away my tears. “Have faith in me yet,” he bade.

  He shifted then, well and truly into his wolf, before me and Gareth, Ironside, fifty knights and their men.

  I clung to Gareth. “Stop him,” I begged.

  “No,” Gareth said.

  “You don’t know what I do. If he challenges Nimue…”

  “He won’t.” Gareth turned me in his arms. “Look.”

  The wolf was here still, not fled after Nimue as I had feared, but casting about where the man who’d held Nessie had stood before they’d been swallowed from my view. The wolf might not know the scent of the man who’d carried Nessie away, but circling out, he’d easily catch the scent of the only man, or men, who’d left the grounds that day.

  In fact, Gareth and I had only reached our horses when the wolf yipped his alert that he had found the trail, and we were off after him, his howls leading us on. Ironside followed on his red steed and as others of his men found their mounts they followed, too, till the woods we rode jangled with the sound of a small army.

  Bent on rescuing Nessie, I wondered, or just hoping for another impure peek at her most lovely self?

  We had traveled but a league when, with a snarl, the wolf leapt in front of our horses, snapping at their noses.

  They shied even as Gareth and I hauled on their reins.

  Just ahead, the forest floor fell away, down a rock-faced cliff. By the time we steadied our nervous horses, the wolf was standing at the edge.

  Dismounting, we cautiously approached the wolf, not knowing his current temper. He whined as we neared, staring intently down the cliffside.

  On a ledge below, with only a stony trail leading away, Nessie crouched. Alone. Her back against the stone wall and a sheer drop not three paces before her.

  “Nessie!” I called down. “Nessie, hold on. We’re coming!”

  “No! I’m not going back. Not to that!” She was terrified. And when she stood and took a step toward the cliff’s edge, I knew terror too.

  Marrok clawed at the rock lip in frustration.

  “I’ll go down,” Gareth said. “Hold her till Ironside and his men arrive.”

  He would have slid down the rock face to her if I had not put up a hand to stop him. “We can’t risk her jumping,” I pleaded.

  “Why jump if we’re here to rescue her?”

  I didn’t need Sight to know. Just a sister’s bond. “She doesn’t know us. Doesn’t know we mean salvation.”

  “Has Nimue—?”

  I shook my head. “Not compelled. Just abused, and frightened, and hiding in a world inside her head. Any man—any woman—will only be pain to her.” I blanched and looked behind. “Oh God, the others…”

  The jangle of reins grew loud. If Nessie were crowded…

  “Talk to her. Soothe her fears,” Gareth said. “I’ll hold them back.” He squeezed my shoulder in assurance before turning away.

  When I looked back down, the wolf was gone.

  Chapter 38

  Marrok

  The beast’s mind could be a peculiar thing. As I followed Nessie’s scent down the rocky trail that wound away from Lyn, the wolf focused only on one thought—that any man or woman would frighten Nessie more. That a wolf might drive her off the cliff in terror never crossed its simple mind.

  At the bottom of the trail where it led onto the ledge I paused. Above, in the distance, I heard a beloved voice crying, “Hold!” followed by the shuffle of confused hooves as the retinue of knights halted mid-gallop.

  Right above, another beloved voice shouted my name in horror. “Marrok!”

  I winced at the harsh tone, but Nessie stood at the edge of the cliff now. Fear and sorrow mingled in the smell of her sweat. And over all, the predator caught the sweet hint of resignation that signaled the surrender of its prey.

  Nessie would jump, of that there was no doubt. One last brave and foolish act that would see her dead. There was naught I could do to make things worse.

  Dropping to my belly, making myself as low as possible, I crawled to her, whining as I went. A supplicant currying her charity.

  Above me, Gareth joined Lyn, an arm curling about her waist as they watched the drama below.

  I stopped when I reached her, my front legs outstretched, paws almost nudging her unslippered feet. A dislodged pebble plinked its way down, falling the height of a good ten men.

  Rising slowly, keeping my head low, I leaned gently against her near leg, my fur soft and slightly bristled against her smooth skin.

  She froze at the touch—until realizing it was no human hand taking unsought liberties. She shifted a corner of her gaze from the cliff’s edge to me.

  I perked my ears and wagged my tail. No fit behavior for a pack leader, but my wolf was playing to an endgame and proving it could adapt…if the reward were great enough. That Lyn and Gareth both wanted this lady alive was inspiration in itself. That the man desired her…safety…meant the wolf was as committed as they.

  The man, indeed, desired much more, looking up the naked length of her from my ankle view. She was thin from a fortnight of refusing food, but not so thin the curves and swells and dark hollows of her exquisite body didn’t entice, sparked especially by the wolf’s raw passions. But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. And given her recent history, it would be a long time, if ever, before she would be ready to entertain such desires herself.

  For her, I could gladly wait.

  But first, she had to be saved.

  Lifting my head, I nosed her hand, nudging it till it rested over my ears. Tentatively her fingers massaged them. I whined my encouragement, wolf and man together recognizing that seducing her from the cliff meant seducing her to the wolf. And seduction was a game wolf and man both understood quite well.

  I turned my nose into her hand, my long tongue wrapping around each of her slender fingers in turn. I tickled her palm briefly, then moved to the wrist, licking the sensitive skin with gentle strokes.

  I closed my eyes so the man wouldn’t succumb to the unguarded sight of her mysteries so near my tongue, though I could do nothing to block the deep musk of her from tempting my nose.

  I whined and pushed my insistent muzzle into her palm, then through her hand, insinuating my head between it and the perfectly curved jut of her hip. Fearlessly now, she ran her fingers deep into my ruff. I arched my neck into her hand, demanding more.

  She turned her eyes away then from the cliff’s high fall and focused her attention on me.

  Dropping my forequarters to the ground, I swayed my hips, tail wagging and giving her my best wicked grin.

  She turned half to me.

  Encouraged, I thrust my nose boldly again into her palm, my tongue following through the channel of her hand. Then I slipped between her and the edge of the cliff, pressing my weight into her. She backed a step into the wall behind her. My ribs pressed into her knees and I arched back my neck over my shoulders, jaws parted, my tongue flopping rakishly to the side.

  She fell over me then, clinging desperately, one arm around my throat, the other clutching at my shoulders. Her breasts mashed against me as she crushed me, hard, rocking me, crying into my dark fur.

  Then she shuddered, back and shoulders shaking, releasing all the grief and anguish, sorrow and horror pent within.

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nbsp; With a gentle tongue, I licked her tears away.

  She had no strength to walk. As easily as I could, I shifted, my strong arms safe around her, my head buried in the curve of her neck. When I lifted her up, she clung yet to my shoulders, seeming to not recognize I was a wolf no longer. I picked my way carefully along the rocky trail, mindful of the sharp stones, the slide of gravel and my most precious burden.

  Lyn and Gareth were waiting at the top. Gareth’s bare chest was a welcome if curious sight until I saw his tunic gripped in Lyn’s hands.

  “Nessie?” Lyn’s voice was careful, seeking recognition only, not asking anything more of her traumatized sister.

  “Lyn?” Nessie peeped above the round of my shoulder. “Lyn!” She bit her lower lip as recognition and memory flooded over her. I lowered her to her feet, expecting her to flee the two steps to her sister, but she stood against me still, gaining not just her physical balance but her mental one too.

  Lyn trembled with the effort to not throw her arms around Nessie and shower her with kisses. I nodded an acknowledgement of that restraint and she took courage from my smile. “Here, let’s get you into this, shall we?” Lyn lifted one of Nessie’s arms into a sleeve of the tunic and I lifted the other. Together we pulled it over her head, then draped it down, across her breasts, over her hips and to her knees. It was ripe with sweat and dirt, but Nessie wrapped her arms gratefully around it, snugging it close.

  The tunic seemed to give her confidence and to stir better memories. “Oh, Lyn!” Throwing her arms around Lyn, Nessie hugged her sister to her amid a fresh flow of tears, and I knew it would be some time before they could be parted.

  From the shadows of the forest’s edge, Ironside, shamed, looked on.

  Chapter 39

  Marrok

  We returned to Ironside’s castle, to stay till Ness was ready to ride. The solar we commandeered was drafty but large enough to accommodate the two beds we had brought in as well as a table and chairs for dining and, apparently, discussion. Which Lyn and Gareth engaged in at great length the first two days.

  Where next to go, what to do with Ironside and his men… I had little care for the deciding, though I would be perfectly happy to help in executing the decisions. If, for instance, they needed my wolf to rip out Ironside’s throat, I stood ready to accommodate.

  My only care in those matters was that Nimue had fled, to Avalon likely, gone now beyond our reach.

  “She was never ours,” Lyn told me, when I sat with them to sup. “Not really. I saw her future and she was free.”

  “Only because you let her go,” I grumbled, and immediately regretted both words and tone. Lyn had not made the choice lightly, and my bitterness was not directed at her.

  Laying a cool hand on my forearm, she said, not for the first time, “I’m truly sorry. I know your disappointment. But Nimue’s magic could not have helped you.”

  “Merlin said there would be a cure.”

  “And we’ll find it,” Gareth added, “I swear.”

  I didn’t doubt his intentions, pure and noble as he himself. I basked in how much he cared for me. But it was an empty vow if there was no cure to be had.

  Still, but for Ness’s presence, I would have shown Gareth just how grateful I was for his staunchest support.

  It was not out of shame, of course, that we abstained, but deference for Ness.

  “You care for him, don’t you?” Ness asked when we retired to two high-backed chairs before the flickering fire, leaving Gareth and Lyn once again to their plans.

  “I do.”

  “And for my sister?”

  “Her too.” I watched Ness guardedly.

  “I mean, really care for them.”

  “I would give my life for them. And they have already given their souls for me.”

  “And the wolf?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What of it?”

  “Would you give your life for it?”

  Rising abruptly, I paced around my chair. The question was ridiculous. Or was it? “I am the wolf.”

  “Then why are you trying so hard to get rid of it? Would you try so hard to rid yourself of a hand or a foot?”

  I dragged my chair close to hers and sat again, knee-to-knee with her wit that was proving to be as exquisitely formed as the rest of her. “It isn’t that simple.”

  “Then educate me,” she said softly. “I knew you first as a wolf, and it was he that rescued me. I-I wouldn’t wish you any different than what—who—you are now. Would Lyn? Does Gareth?”

  “Lyn—never. Gareth”—I recalled the dark times when I hadn’t been sure about Gareth, or he about me—“accepts.”

  She stared at me out of wise and wounded eyes. She who had been so abused thinking to heal me. What could I possibly give her in return?

  Patience and gentleness, of course. And perhaps understanding.

  “When I was cursed, it was a thing done to me. Against my will.”

  She caught her breath at that. Had she thought I’d been birthed this way?

  “I’m a knight. Skilled. Strong. Ill-tempered at times but honest. And yet, somehow, some wild fae-thing got the best of me. I couldn’t stop the doing of it. And once done, I couldn’t undo it. And now the wolf is my stigma to bear. Those who love me have no shame of me. I bear all that shame myself. Should I care what any others think?”

  Swallowing hard, Ness shook her head. For a moment I lost her to vile and hurtful memories. When she’d buried them again in pain, she asked, “Can you—” she swallowed and tried again. “Could you still love others even if you hate yourself?”

  “I would insist on it.”

  “And if no one”—she inhaled a shaky breath—“no one loved you back?”

  “Any who wouldn’t would be a fool. But I don’t think you’d be so foolish as to love a fool.”

  That brought a hint of a smile to her lips. The same sweet and endearing expression that I had caught, though rarely, on Lyn. Then she ducked her head. “Lyn and Gareth aren’t fools, and you love them.”

  Hoist by my own petard. She was trying to heal me yet.

  “Are you a fool?” She caught my eye, held it. “Am I?”

  “What we are,” I said at last, “is blameless.”

  And for the first time since I’d been cursed, I believed it.

  In their bed that night, Ness and Lyn slept in their shifts, cuddled together in a sisterly embrace. In our bed, I kicked off my leggings once I was under the sheets, and Gareth discreetly did the same. We touched and kissed in silence, swallowing each other’s gasps and sighs, and falling asleep at last in an immodest tangle of sheets and limbs.

  I woke to a pair of eyes staring from across the room. Acutely aware of Gareth’s and my half-naked flanks, I stretched the sheet across them, stirring Gareth who sleepily draped an arm across my neck.

  “We have a spy,” I whispered. Lyn’s head rose from her pillow. “Two,” I amended.

  With a sharp look, Lyn took Ness’s hand. “Let’s see if we can find a privy.” Halfway to the door she retrieved my leggings from the floor and, irritated, tossed them on the bed. “See you’re up when we return.”

  Ness’s shy but insistent stare never left our bed until she and Lyn were out the door.

  Chapter 40

  Gareth

  After we broke fast with an array of meats and breads and fruits, Lyn and I continued to sit at the table while Marrok took Nessie off to a corner to teach her to play Noddy with a deck of cards brought when the servants cleared our plates.

  Lyn smiled softly toward her sister. “I was sure we’d find her a broken thing, made mad even by her ordeal. Yet she’s still Nessie. More fragile now. More anxious. Less trusting. But Nessie.”

  “And you’ll do all you can to shelter and protect her.”

  “Of course. That’s not even a question.”

  “Perhaps it should be.”

  My voice was soft, but still she bristled. “Explain yourself. With great care.”

 
“I want to protect her too. Her circumstances beg it. Her fatal beauty and that core of innocence that neither Ironside nor Nimue could steal away are precious assets to be guarded. With all that I firmly agree. I look on her and see the very reason I strive to be a knight. More, I see you in her, and my heart knows it must love her as it loves you.”

  Lyn’s expression softened at that. With all my being I wished I could leave it there.

  “Because I see so much of you in her, I have to believe she has your strength and your resilience too. Would you protect her from life itself? Would you have her hidden away playing cards until she grows old and dies? How will she learn that strength can be tempered and lusts controlled, that the act of love is not a torture to be endured but a pleasure to be delighted in if she is dragged away from every instance of affection? If the only experience she has of intimacy is the one she’s been rescued from, what does that tell her of the world and of her future?”

  Lyn shook her head. “It’s too soon.”

  “Too soon for her or for you?”

  “For—us. Strength is an odd bedfellow. When you’ve been hurt the way she has, it has a way of breaking when you’re most in need of it.”

  “Her wounds need time and more to heal,” I agreed. “I’m suggesting no more than letting her be witness to love when it’s not used as a weapon but a balm. To let her watch when we do this.” Leaning in close, I covered Lyn’s lips with mine. At my gentle urgings, her reluctance dissolved into a kiss she returned with equal passion. No tongue save for soft teases across our eager lips before they slipped away.

  She stole a look toward Nessie who was watching openly with innocent charm. Across from her, Marrok grinned.

  “Enough.” Half-playful, half-serious, Lyn pressed her palms against my shoulders to push me away.

  I winced.

  Lyn’s eyes flew wide. “You’re hurt,” she accused.

  “Strength of seven, remember?” I said drily. “I may have suffered a bruise or two in the fray. Which you would have noticed yesterday had your eyes not been for Nessie and no other.”