savage 05 - the savage protector

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Leave her be!” Maddoc raged. His throat slits flared with his anger.

  Another harsh strike of the barbed end of the whip tore his flesh from his back.

  Yet he met her gaze without flinching. Evie closed her eyes against the pain she saw there—not from the whipping but for his inability to help her. A nearby Fragment laid ahold of her breast, and she could do naught but squirm beneath his vile touch. Even her ankles were bound.

  “Ah!” he jeered. “She is a live one, and blood of the Band runs in those pale veins of hers if I be a bettin' man.”

  He gave her nipple a painful twist. All Evie's good intentions not to make a sound for Maddoc's benefit fled, and she cried out. Tears of shame, anger, and pain ran down her face.

  The other Fragment laughed as the huge Band male's body wept blood and his eyes filled with hate over her mistreatment.

  The doctor entered through the door flap.

  “You there, stop spoiling the merchandise.” With a gesture at the torturer, he added, “And this one is of no use if beaten into a bloody pulp. Put away the whip for now. Break him we shall.”

  His brows rose into an imperious arch. “However, I must ascertain the value of this young woman, and for that, I need privacy.”

  “Hmph!” the Fragment grumbled, stepping away from her. “I was just havin' a bit of sport.”

  Evie's eyes were round with fear; his were narrow with lust.

  The doctor's gaze became slits. “She is for sale and worth quite a bit, judging from her age and obvious lineage. I do not want her marred in any way. The battered females fetch less at auction, as well you know.” He looked at the loose group of males who muttered amongst themselves. “Be ye gone so I might check to see her true value. Let her new owners break her, not us.”

  They walked out of the tent, clearly angry their fun had been curtailed. The doctor kneeled beside Evie. She tried to shuffle away, fingers digging into the dirt floor. Maddoc groaned from his hanging perch, his toes barely touching the dirt.

  “Now, now… I do not think so, my dear. Let us see if that brute of the Band has had his way with you.”

  Evie's eyes bulged out of her face, and he gave a low chuckle as he spread her knees. Evie screamed, a sound that was so full of anguish Maddoc felt as if cold water had been splashed on his face. Her fear coated him like ice.

  Evie felt the man’s thick digits near where only Maddoc had been, and she yelled louder. Tears soaked the hand that silenced her.

  “It will be over soon, hellion,” the doctor said.

  “I will see your bones crushed into dust, Fragment,” Maddoc promise.

  The doctor turned, his fingers brushing Evie’s entrance. Maddoc swallowed past the stinging pain of the lashes that tried to heal even as he spoke.

  The doctor nodded.

  “Be that as it may. In this moment, I merely prove purity, Band. You will not be making ash out of anything, and I will know if she is untried. It is a simple matter of worth.”

  Evie attempted to fight the intrusion by closing her legs, but his fingers entered her body. She wailed for Maddoc, and he bellowed his anguish.

  “Look at me, Evie!” Maddoc yelled. Her panicked gaze locked on Maddoc's as the doctor did the unspeakable.

  Finally, the man removed his fingers. Evie whimpered as he announced his satisfaction at the proof of her purity.

  Maddoc, who had never looked away from the scene, memorized the face of the evil man.

  He vowed to feel the heat of that male's blood on his bare hands before the day was done.

  The doctor paused by the flap and turned.

  “They will bring food. I suggest you accept whatever it is. We want the girl in top shape for the auction two days hence.”

  “I do not talk to the dead,” Maddoc said.

  The doctor smirked and exited the tent. When the flap closed behind him, Maddoc snapped his head back to Evie. His neck screamed misery, crunched in an odd way from his hanging too long by his shoulders.

  “Evie,” he said in a quiet voice.

  But Evie’s catatonic eyes gazed at him with vacantness that shook him to his core. She had gone somewhere else, and Maddoc despaired. He needed to get them out of this place. Evie would be sold to the highest bidder forthwith, and if he were not free, he could never help her.

  She lay on the dirt floor, her hair matted and stuck against her tear-stained face. He lowered his eyes in shame at his inability to protect her. It was his fault. For if he had not been in the throes of passion, he would have been more alert to the Fragment that had sneaked up on them.

  The bastard had not even lowered her dress, just left it riding high against her thighs. As he thought that, she moved, hitching up to her knees and shifting until the hem dropped with the help of gravity.

  She turned her back to him and slowly dropped to her side, curling up her bound legs until she lay in the fetal position.

  A long sigh escaped her and then nothing.

  Maddoc watched her shoulders rise and fall. “Evie…”

  Moments rolled into minutes. Just when he grew certain an answer was not forthcoming, she surprised him.

  “I am sorry, Maddoc.”

  He frowned, flexing his hands in a futile bid to regain circulation. “What? What say you?”

  She did not turn. “'Tis my fault. Had I just stayed safe in the sphere, and not tried to return to the Clan with Calia, I would even now be safe. And you would not be injured.”

  That was all true. Yet it did not diminish his love for her in the slightest. His adoration was inexplicable, ready, and strong. She was very young and had made a rash move.

  Calia should have encouraged it not.

  “My injuries will heal, Evelyn.”

  Her soft sobs reached him. “Do not… do not despair. I will see us out of this place.”

  She did not respond.

  Maddoc offered no more words. His promises of escape were empty until he could fulfill them. He waited. When one of the Fragment returned, he would be ready.

  His back no longer bled. The wounds had closed. If they brought food, he would eat.

  Then he would kill.

  *

  The portal door closed, but the image of King Otto, a rucksack with provisions beside his unconscious body, would burn in Clara’s memory like a candle flame.

  The final sliver of Outside winked out of sight, and the locks clanked. Clara gripped the brass key in her hand as she slid her other arm around Matthew's waist.

  He kissed the crown of her bent head then wrinkled his nose slightly, pulling away. “It is a better end than he deserved, Clara.”

  She nodded.

  They began to walk back toward the kingdom.

  Clara stopped and turned.

  “What has happened?”

  Matthew exhaled sharply.

  “Your dream was portentous, Clara.”

  Sadness gripped her like a vice, and she held his large hands more tightly.

  “Tell me.”

  Matthew did. People detoured around the pair as he outlined what had occurred.

  She shook her head. “They did that unconscionable deed then returned here to overtake our kingdom?”

  Matthew smiled at her unconscious inclusion of him and nodded, though the subject matter was grave.

  Clara did not notice. She stared off, deep in thought.

  Matthew cocked his head. “I mean no offense. However, you smell”—he gave a low chuckle—“vaguely like beef.”

  Clara grinned.

  “Olive used a compress on my face to take down the swelling.”

  Matthew glowered. “Where is this male who laid his hand against you?”

  “Oh…” Clara cast her eyes to the ground.

  “Why do you hide from me?” Matthew asked.

  “There is a male of the Fragment who… who…” How was she to explain that the Fragment, who was Band, had come to her aid and subdued Cyril yet had kidnapped her first?

  The longer she he
sitated, the darker Matthew's expression became. “Who?” he asked, his voice terse and his body tense for flight.

  “He came to my aid against the guard of King Otto, Cyril,” Clara said.

  Matthew stepped away, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  “Go on,” he said, watching her face.

  She hung her head. “He first was in collusion with King Otto.”

  Matthew roared, “And he be in the kingdom?”

  “Aye. ’

  Clara stayed him with a hand lest he rush off without the full recounting. “’Tis true, yet… I do not understand the motivation, who or what he is affiliated with at present. What I will vow is that Cyril and he could have done terrible things, as I was unprotected while Cyril guarded me. And while I lay beaten and unconscious, the king bore falsehoods about my safety to my people to procure their cooperation.”

  Matthew stepped close to her and wrapped his fist in her hair. He pulled her head toward his.

  She rose on tiptoe, helping his full press of lips against her own. He kissed her with all the passion he contained, ravishing her mouth. He lifted his face from hers but did not release his hold upon her.

  “I will never leave you again. Not for anything. No principality, tragedy, occurrence, or other will take me from you.”

  His massive hand slid down between her shoulder blades, and he pressed his messy future bride against his chest where his heartbeat thrummed underneath her ear.

  “Never again,” he promised.

  Clara nodded against him.

  “Yes.” He moved his hand from her back to around her shoulders and led her into the mouth of the Kingdom of Ohio. He would administer punishment to a male of the Band who thought he could be kidnapper turned savior.

  To Matthew, there was no difference.

  He would determine which the male was and react accordingly.

  *

  Elise followed the Red Men.

  Their wonder at the surroundings of the sphere did not exceed hers. It was a true marvel. She had heard many tales of the sphere, but the reality was so much more.

  She tore her eyes away from the huge male in front of her and spied the Great Forest through the semi-clear walls of the strange dome. She could easily make out the proud treetops as they stabbed a sky gone pale blue with the season of winter upon them.

  She listened to the Iroquois chat quietly in their language, picking up the meaning of a stray word here and there.

  Elise was cataloging the strange environs, also. She wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow and frowned. It steamed inside the dome, causing a feeling very near the few times she had partaken in the hot springs that dotted the Outside.

  They had passed several stations where water came from a brass pump with a hanging ladle.

  Finally, a yawning arched entryway of the same spongy material of the sphere stretched high above her head. A sentry inspected everyone prior to allowing entry.

  On the word of the guard and a member of the Band, many flowed through a definitive arched doorway. Elise stopped shy of passing through, afraid to commit to a new home with unknown people. Her fear was in both principle and historical precedence, for trust did not come easily. She spread her hand over the wall of the sphere, and her fingers sank into the cushiony material.

  It felt like a cocoon of dough that she had kneaded for bread, encapsulating her hand and molding to it. When she raised her palm, a perfect imprint of it remained.

  As she watched, the depression disappeared as if she had never touched it.

  “Miss?” the sentry called out.

  “I need your name for the ledger.”

  Elise looked at his badge. A shelled animal with a gem inside was encircled by ornate script. She could not read, but she imagined the words had something to do with the sphere.

  She cleared her throat and answered shyly, “Elise.”

  “Surname?” he asked.

  She stood dumbly in front of him.

  He frowned, thinking she had misunderstood. “Your last name, please, Miss.”

  Oh. “I do not possess… a last name.”

  She looked down at her feet and added, “If I have one, I know not what it is.”

  “Yes,” the guard said, flustered. “Go on then. Mayhap Queen Clara can … assign one to you.”

  She raised her head and met his eyes.

  Seeing only kindness, she realized he did not make a jest at her expense. Elise's shoulders drooped, the tenseness leaving her bit by bit.

  When she moved through the opening, Adahy was waiting on the other side. His green eyes, so alien in that dark face, swept down her body.

  Many had looked at her in just that way in her time with the Fragment, but never with such compassion.

  “Not hurt,” Adahy said and held out his hand.

  Elise stood uncertainly.

  Finally, she allowed courage to rule her where only fear had governed before.

  She slipped her hand inside his, and they moved deeper into the sphere.

  Elise held the hand of the first male friend she had ever possessed and felt an emotion so foreign she did not recognize it at first.

  Hope.

  CHAPTER 13

  Theodore dragged Cyril by the collar of his tunic. Cyril’s face was almost unrecognizable. Theo’s fists had done their job well.

  Theo had thought the redness of his blood on the floor would have been a just end for that one. But he was unsure of the rules of this place and did not know what the repercussion would be for a death.

  Several of the royal guards of this sphere approached, and Theo dumped his captive on the floor. Cyril’s forehead cracked on the top step of the marble staircase that flowed from the front door of the royal building to the street.

  The guards were armed, and Theo counted six. Not enough to bring him down, yet he did not wish to fight in the new sphere. He glanced at the body at his feet and saw the barest movement of the man’s chest. Theo grunted his approval.

  Cyril would wake at some undetermined time hence.

  Theo knew what tactic to take in this moment.

  “Here is the man who laid hands on your queen. I have subdued him for your”—he grappled for the word they would use—“jail.”

  Billy looked at the huge one of the Band, a foreigner, and replied, “Aye, that be where you're off to as well.”

  Theo narrowed his gaze. Though the rough brute wore the finery of the rest, it did not seem to suit him. There was a wild edge to him that put Theo's instincts on alert.

  “I have done nothing to warrant incarceration,” Theo said quietly, playing his hand for all it was worth.

  It was very like the game he and the other Fragment would play between raids. Poker, they called it.

  Billy studied him. The man’s dark gaze contained something like the coming storms he watched boil around the sphere Outside.

  “Nay, I like you being locked up somewhere safe an' sound.”

  Damn. Theo tensed, his hand floating above his hilt. He was preparing to bound down the steps when a commotion to the side caught his attention.

  A large male, hair more gold than brown and eyes blazing like chips of the sky in late summer, was headed their way. He went from a jog to a sprint.

  It was a charge if Theo had ever seen one, and he met it head on. He was Band, and he had never backed down from a challenge meted.

  “Matthew!” Clara screamed.

  Theo took a precious moment to glance at her, then he turned back to the warrior who was almost upon him.

  Clara lifted her skirts and ran as fast as she could, but Matthew outpaced her easily.

  She saw Theo on the top step of the Royal Manse. A broken-looking Cyril lay at his feet.

  Billy smirked, folding his heavy arms across his chest and moving aside. The breeze from Matthew passing him moved the hair across his brow.

  Matthew plowed through the center of the parted guard.

  Theo leaped off the top step and landed in an embrace
of Matthew’s fists. Clara attempted to run past Billy, but he swept her off her feet.

  “Unhand me!” Clara yelled.

  “No, Queen,” Billy said.

  Clara kicked Billy's shin with her heel, and he howled and dropped her. She landed on her feet and surged forward.

  She ran into the space between Matthew and Theo and held up her hands. “Stop this!”

  It was the scent of her that stopped Matthew's forward motion.

  Sweat ran into his eyes, and the knuckles of his fists had less flesh than when he had begun.

  Aye, but Matthew felt better.

  Seeing the flare of the male's throat slits in combination with fresh blood lightened Matthew's heart.

  Panting, Clara put a hand on each of the men’s chests and repeated, “Stop this.”

  Matthew latched onto her small hand and tugged her to him. Pulling Clara to the safety of his body made all the difference. He could think- breathe.

  “Do not touch him, Clara.”

  She turned in his arms, but his eyes remained on Theo, who whipped the sweat-drenched hair out of his eyes.

  Clara watched drops of blood mixed with sweat land on the marble-lined walkway and suppressed a shudder.

  The Band was terribly wont to engage in violence first and wonder about the facts later.

  She tapped Matthew’s arm. “I am alive and whole only because of Theo. He is not perfect, 'tis true. He be Fragment, but the blood of the Band runs in his veins.”

  Theo smirked.

  He allowed the female royal to defend him and loved how uncomfortable it made the male.

  “And how was it that you were not here to offer your protection to this select?”

  He kept his hands loose by his sides in case the male elected to move her aside and give another go.

  Matthew scowled.

  “I was on a scout for two missing females, Fragment.”

  Theo inclined his head.

  “Touché.”

  Matthew and Clara frowned at the odd word.

  Theo quirked one eyebrow. “However, it does not answer why you would leave the queen of this sphere vulnerable. Yet you raise your fists to me when I have made short work of the true problem.” He gestured at the fallen Cyril.