by Jana LaPelle
Garrik has remained a bit stoic and aloof. He is protective yet standoffish, taking his role as the inside man very seriously. I'm so very proud of him, but at the same time, I have no idea as to whether or not he has been in contact with Alaric or Dagda. If I had to guess, I would think that the wards are also keeping him from using his majically enhanced device to communicate with my kindred. I wish that he would give me some sort of sign as to what is going on. If my calculations are correct, then only twelve or so hours have passed in Faerie since I have arrived here in the Mortal Realm. As I think of my kindred, the ache in my chest radiates from the cold, dark hole that has taken up residency there. I place a warm hand over the area and hope to ease the pain to no avail.
The other three of my Fab Five are Camoryn, Dorlan, and Khatar. Camoryn is a satyr, the first that I have ever seen. His hair is a dark brown that tends to be a bit curly and unruly. He has large ram-like horns that jut out of the top of his head just above his hairline and curl back over his skull. His pointed ears are longer and more pronounced than mine, and the tips are tufted in fur, and he always wears a five o'clock shadow. He rarely wears a shirt, so his well-defined torso is always on full display. Evidently, satyrs run a little hot. His goat-like legs are massive, and I can always hear him approach on his large hooves. Camoryn tends to be a prankster and typically is easy to smile. In that regards, he reminds me of Tolin. For all the strangeness that is Camoryn, he is still rather handsome. Dorlan I have learned is Fomorian. He's attractive with his blond hair and dimples. He is not a leader and looks to the rest for guidance. I would guess his age close to mine, and I can tell that he lacks experience but is really rather sweet. Believe it or not, Khatar is the one in the group that I found to be the most unusual looking. Khatar is a dark elf. His complexion is white, like really white with gray tints, his hair is white and long and hangs stick straight. There is about a one-inch band at the tips of his hair that has been dyed black. The dark charcoal shading around his eyes only serves to accentuate his brightly glowing crystal blue orbs. His elf ears are longer and pointier than any I have seen and extend up the side of his head. He is always dressed in black leather and has multiple silver piercings from his eyebrow to his lip to his ears. As unusual as he appears the look is sexy, he is the epitome of shades of white and black. On the flip side, he is serious but has a sense of humor as well.
My Fab Five are a motley crew, but I have accepted them, and they are becoming family to me the more time that we are forced together. In order to the pass the time, we have played cards, chess, checkers, and board games. I'm so freakin' bored I can barely stand it. The one hi-lite of my day is that Jasmine has a crush on the large satyr. The two of them are so cute together as they flirt with one another. I have even caught her blushing from time to time at something the prankster has said. Who would have thought?
It's midafternoon but looks closer to dusk, and as I sit here doing nothing once again, I decide it's time to change things up. I go change into my training leathers that I arrived in. I only have a few throwing knives that made the trip with me, but they will have to do. Entering the outer chamber, I announce, "Guys, we're getting out of here. I want to train this afternoon. Come on." And… Nothing. They just stand there staring at me. So I say, "Well, if you want to stay here that's fine, but I would have thought you would take any chance you got to get out of these rooms. Besides, I'm pretty sure that his royal pain in my ass, would not want me wandering the halls on my own." Again, I get blank stares. Looking at Jasmine, I say, "Are you game?"
Jasmine smiles broadly and replies, "You have no idea. Come on Ash, let's make tracks and get the hell out of these stale, stuffy rooms." Just like that, she's animated and fluttering about like mad, and we make our way to the door to the hallway. The Fab Five are now officially the Flabbergasted Five. They're looking at me like they have no clue what to do next.
"Well, come on guys. I have no clue what direction to take to get to your training room, and I know that there has to be one. By the way, is the weapons room close to the training room? I want to see if there is a crossbow that I can use for target practice and a few more throwing knives. I really need to work on hand-to-hand sword training but not today. So, are you guys game in blowing off some steam?” I ask again.
Garrik is the first to get it together as he says, "Ashlinn, you will stay in the middle of us, or we will bring you straight back here. Dorlan and I will lead the way. Nym will be your personal escort. Camoryn and Khatar will bring up the rear. Is that understood?"
Khatar speaks up, “Are you ready to take the punishment for disobeying orders, Garrik?”
“She’s right Khatar. He can’t expect her to stay locked up in these chambers all day every day. It will do all of us some good to get out of here. We have no idea when his next visit to her chambers will be. He has been absent for days now. We all need a change of scenery.” Garrik says, backing me up.
My entourage and I make our way through the halls of the large manor. Again, everyone stops to stare because this is only the second time that I have left my quarters in seven days. The males are all looking on us smiling, and the females look like they have swallowed a mouthful of lemons. I smirk to myself and jut my chin out defiantly as we make our way to our final destination which happens to be in an exceptionally large basement area. There are quite a few males that are training on one end of the large room. Garrik opens the door to another large space that houses all sorts of weapons. I see a leg holster with five small throwing knives, and I pick it up and strap it on. On a far wall, I see a crossbow similar to mine back in Faerie, so I grab it and the appropriate crossbow arrows. This one is a bit bigger than mine, but it will work just fine. I grab a short sword and its shoulder holster and strap it on. Now I feel better. It's been days, and I intend to make the most of my time here. The guys are also arming themselves, and we make our way back out to the training room. I see the target practice area and make my way to that end of the room. The only one here that has seen me train is Jasmine, and she is just smirking at me and is remaining quiet.
The prankster, Camoryn steps forward and begins giving me instruction. He is so very cute as he takes his role of instructor very seriously. Jasmine is just about to burst out laughing as she perches on his head, steadying herself by leaning on his right horn. Khatar and Garrik are eyeing me curiously as I just smile sweetly and nod as Cam continues his instruction, completely oblivious to my confident stance as I test the weight of these new knives. He stops and asks, "You ready to give this a try?"
I smirk and say, "I think I've got this." I've practiced my follow through so many times now that the action is forever burned into my muscle memory. I toss the knife in my hand up, and it flips end over end before I catch the hilt in my right hand and in one swift movement I throw the weapon and watch as it hits the target dead center. I do not hesitate as I reach for another knife and throw it. Reaching behind me I swing the crossbow around and load and take aim at another target; I release the arrows one after the other. All find their targets. I turn to my instructor and ask, "How did I do?" I’m smiling like a fool and feel exhilarated as I look at my work. I seriously love using the throwing knives, and I feel the pent up tension and frustration begin to leave me.
Camoryn eyes me curiously before saying, “So, that was pretty wicked. I guess you really didn’t need my pep talk at all.” He says with a crooked smile.
“If there is one thing that Ash has going for her, it’s her wicked aim.” Jasmine chimes in, fluttering around the handsome satyr. She looks like she’s ready to swoon as she watches Cam, looking decidedly love struck. I shake my head wondering how that relationship could possibly work.
About that time the door that we came in a little earlier, slams open, banging against the wall with a resounding boom. Tarron stalks into the room and just like the last time I saw him. He's furious. Really? We’ve only been down here maybe thirty minutes or so. This time I’m prepared for the pull to him and steel myself the
closer he stalks toward me. His anger is rolling off him in waves as he approaches. He’s been MIA for days but the moment I step out of my chambers he’s front and center? Just my luck.
"Princess, what are you doing out of your chambers? Don't answer that. Garrik, what is the princess doing outside of her chambers. The five of you were given strict orders for her to remain there until my directive changed. I expressly remember stating that she was not to train. She is meant to be my queen!" His green eyes flare to life and are glowing. That should have been my first warning sign, but in my anger at being treated like some possession and not a person, I let one of my knives fly right toward him. As soon as I realize what I have done, I gasp audibly. I watch in horror as the filing projectile streaks across the room. Tarron’s actions are a blur. He moves faster than I can track and deftly reaches up and plucks the knife out of the air, glaring at me. My aim was dead center of his chest and would have hit its mark if his reflexes were not so quick. I have never seen anything like it.
My Fab Five seem to be shifting nervously under the glare of their lord, and that just rubs me the wrong way. I have nothing to lose after that last stunt. I march forward placing myself between my guys and their prince. Poking his chest with my index finger and glaring up at him, I say, "You have no right to be angry! You bring me here, cut me off from all my family and friends and then ignore my very existence. I have been cooped up in those rooms for six days! Six! While you are doing whatever or whoever! Don't get me wrong. It's really none of my business. These males were stifling in those rooms every bit as much as me. I made the decision to come down here to blow off some steam, not them. You should know that I have a way of getting what I want so you leave them out of it." I say in a huff, seriously affronted by his behavior.
Nym steps up to my side and then moves between the dark lord and me as I realize that his anger is a tangible thing. His rage is not abating if anything there is a wild gleam in his eyes that I have never seen before. I now know the reason why he has stayed away from me. The dark majic of the artificial bond between us has him on the verge of something. I just don't know what. Nym's protective nature is now in overdrive as he continues to back me away from the dark prince and my guys are all taking up protective stances.
Tarron's deep voice booms around the room as he says, "All of you are dismissed. I will be having the evening meal with my chosen." His voice sounds odd, maybe even Otherworldly and full of compulsion. With that he rounds on me and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder, and quickly makes his way to the main level. I squirm in his grasp for a moment, and he immediately whacks my behind signaling that he is unhappy with my behavior.
This is not like when Alaric and I are playing. This is degrading. I don’t like being thrown over his shoulder, caveman style. My anger at his manhandling of me is building along with my budding embarrassment. My cheeks are flushed red as I beat on his back in indignation at being treated like a child and I say in a loud screeching voice, “Put me down!” All the while I’m pounding my fist on his backside as I hear chuckles all around the hall, there are even some whistles and cat calls that further humiliate me.
Tarron makes it back up to my chambers at lightning speed as he says, “Stop that.” I look up as he puts me down to see that yes we are back in my chambers which now feel small and cramped while it accommodates his imposing form.
A meal has been sat, and I realize that he had planned a visit this evening. I eye him warily, and he asks, "You are not afraid of me?"
I counter, “Should I ever be afraid of you?”
He stops and studies me for a moment before finally saying, "No. You have no reason ever to fear me. You are not at all what I expected. You are not like the other females. I definitely did not expect you to throw a knife at me today. You are constantly challenging me, and I find that it angers me. I apologize for allowing my rage to get the better of me. Nice throw, by the way." He pauses before continuing, "After much thought and deliberation, I decided today, that I should court you. Imagine my surprise when I heard that you were not in your chambers but parading around the manor in your skin tight leathers making your way to the male's training room. Ashlinn, no females that reside here are training for battle. That is not to say that we do not have female warriors within our ranks, they just are not here. The females that are here are content to remain on the sidelines and support my warriors and me in other ways."
I snort, as I can imagine just how these females are supporting Tarron and his warriors. I need to make him understand the predicament that I find myself in and say, “Tarron, what do you know of the reason why The Morrígan will stop at nothing to have me out of the picture?” I ask before saying, “I think that is something that needs to be discussed while we have our evening meal. Along with a few other things, but first I’m curious as to why your voice sounded different earlier.”
"That's simple. I used compulsion. I rarely do so, but I was infuriated with your Sentries. They disobeyed my direct orders, just to indulge your whims." He says, matter of factly, while he begins lifting the stainless steel lids to the expose the food underneath. "You weren't where I left you, and I was worried until I heard everyone talking and then I lost my temper."
I should be aggravated, but I'm not. I knew he would be pissed and I was willing to chance it. My first whiff of the food underneath has me distracted. "What's that?" I point to a pastry covered lump in the middle of the table.
He full out grins at me before saying, “Beef Wellington. If prepared correctly, the meat is very tender. I thought your shifter side would enjoy it.
The smell is heavenly as he goes about carving into the meat. He serves me the pastry covered beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, and yeast rolls. “Do you have enough?” he asks as his hand lingers over mine before lightly caressing the top of my wrist. I close my eyes as the bond messes with my senses. A shiver races down my spine.
“Yes. I’m good.” I swallow hard, fighting the attraction.
Over the next few minutes, I recount the reasons for why The Morrígan wants me gone. It's simple really. I'm literally standing in her way.
"So after hearing all of this, you now understand why it's so important that I train. I can't go up against a goddess without having the training to back me up." I say as I happily stuff my mouth with the delicious Beef Wellington. I could gladly eat my weight in this entrée, it is delicious.
Tarron replies, “You are my Chosen. I will protect you from her. There is no need to train.”
Seriously? Here we go again. “Wrong! Did you not hear anything that I had to say just now?” I ask.
"Of course I did, but you have nothing to fear mo solas. I will protect you." Tarron says. He lifts my left hand and brings my knuckles to his lips and gently kisses the top of my hand. The affection he is showing is difficult to resist. I hate this pull to him. He is not my kindred and yet I want nothing more than to curl up in his lap. My appetite is effectively spoiled, and my stomach threatens to revolt. I push my plate away while contemplating my next move. This feeling of nausea is one that I have been struggling with for the last couple of days as I swallow back the bile gathering in my throat.
Looking up at him, he is so very handsome and mesmerizing, and I find that I get lost in his gaze. I reach up to cup his face in my hands, and I say, "You can't protect me. No one can. Alaric realized that, and that is why I was allowed to train." He leans into my touch, and again I'm pulled to him. Needing some space, I rise from the table to walk to the window. I gaze out at the dark stormy night. The ocean beyond the cliffs is a churning tempest.
From behind me, I hear, “I will protect you always, mo solas. Although, I will concede that you have a way with the throwing knives. Was that your work as well with the crossbow that was slung over your back?” He asks.
"Yes, I have been proficient with really any type of bow since I was fourteen. I just recently began training in hand to hand, the throwing knives, and short swords and daggers. For whatever reason,
I have excelled at the throwing knives. Does this mean that you are going to allow me to train?" I ask and carefully watch his face to gauge his reaction to my inquiry.
His stare is serious, and I can see that he is considering my request and he finally says, “Very well but only at an appointed time. I will see to it that the males in training are not in the training room while you are training. Your time there will be limited to an hour and a half a day, and only your five Sentries will accompany you. I will concede to this because I believe that it will make you happy." Tarron has joined me at the window as he concludes.
I'm so happy with this concession that I jump up to give him a hug, forgetting for a moment the dark binding majic before launching myself into his waiting arms. "Thank you," I say beaming up at him before my smile falters as the attraction takes hold and I swallow hard as I wiggle to try to get out of his grasp.
I'm shaking my head as if to clear the cobwebs from my mind. He grips my chin and pulls my gaze to his as he says, "You belong to me, mo solas. You are mine, and I will eventually have you."
My heart weeps at the betrayal that is about to take place as Tarron holds me tight in his dark embrace, his lips find mine, and in seconds I find that I'm lost to the dark majic. I'm wrapped in darkness as I succumb to its sinister embrace. His kiss is gentle at first, but soon his hunger becomes readily evident. He pulls me in as does the dark majic. Why couldn't he have been an ogre or troll? I could have resisted that more easily. I resist for as long as I can before opening to his demanding mouth. The kiss is not fulfilling. I seek greater satisfaction and demand more from my imposter lover. I drive my tongue deeper into his mouth trying desperately to find satisfaction where none lies. The longer that we kiss, the less satisfied I feel, and I break away, breathless.
