Fletcher (A Prydain novel Book 3)

by AJ Adams

  “You’d cover it with a scarf and try to sneak out.”

  Bastard! It was as if he could read my mind.

  “Sit in front of the fire and stay away from my tools,” Ware didn’t add “or else” but his eyes were hard.

  I was too angry to speak, but sense told me that if I weren’t careful, he’d do something worse. That black anger in him was carefully hidden, but Ware Fletcher was iron determination personified. He wasn’t going to hit me; he was too subtle for that. But there was nothing to stop him tying my hands behind my back.

  Or even nastier: hogtying me. The jongleur did that when he was pissed off at me. It hurt like hell, left no visible marks but the memories of the pain as my muscles stretched and cramped in red-hot agony were enough to make me sweat.

  Ware knew I was helpless, and it made him smile. “When I get back, we’ll go for a walk.”

  Like I was a damn dog.

  He pressed a bag into my hand. “Here. For you.” It was the rest of the ginger snaps.

  When he went off, carrying his longbow and wearing leather boots and tight-fitting britches, I briefly considered smashing up the room. It was sheer frustration. My collar burned and the shackles weighed a tonne.

  I wanted to curse, and as there was no one to witness, I let rip. “Tyr’s curses on the mangy whoreson! May his cock rot and boils erupt on his hairy arse!”

  That felt better.

  I swore a bit more, and then I had to admit that I was outmanoeuvred. I sat in front of the fire, thinking about my options. The collar meant I had to be awfully careful. With it, I was a target for every thief in the district. They’d be watching me, waiting to pounce the second I was vulnerable.

  I couldn’t believe my bad luck. I’d thought I’d hit bottom with pig Jarvis, but now I could see he was just a brute. I could have walked away from him when he was drunk and taken my chances. I hadn’t because—

  Actually, that was a puzzler. I guess we thralls are conditioned not to run away. The consequences of being caught are so hideous that we’re too scared to try. I’d hated him with all my heart, but instead of taking my chances, I’d hoped he’d lose me on a wager or sell me quickly. What I hadn’t reckoned on was that Jarvis’ friends were too poor to keep me.

  That’s the thing about owning a thrall. I’m cheap to buy, but you do need to feed me. Most of my previous owners had a good income; the smith in Brighthelme had been particularly rich, but Jarvis bought me from his prize money. He’d made a packet fighting for Volgard in their Haven dispute, but he was a gambler and unlucky. By the time we got to Caern, Jarvis was broke.

  Ware was rich, but he was far too smart to let me walk out. And that was what was so odd. I couldn’t figure out why he wanted me. He could’ve bought a young thrall, a pretty one. Someone as rich as the fletcher could’ve bought a virgin even, straight off the block.

  Or he could’ve taken on an apprentice. All guildsmen take one on at some point so that their skills are passed along to the next generation. Apprentices are bonded for seven years, exchanging labour for training. It means they study, but they also act like servants. They all moan it’s like being a thrall, but they fight for placement because it means a golden future.

  I was neither pretty, young nor virginal, so I couldn’t see what Ware was up to. I suspected it had something to do with the black rage he was hiding, but for the life of me, I couldn’t see what it was. Thralls aren’t worth anything, and even Beasts don’t have blood sacrifices, so it was a mystery what use I was.

  Although I was a bit worried about what would happen next, it was nice to sit in front of a fire on a cold day, doing absolutely nothing. I munched my way through the ginger snaps, each one of them sweet spiced deliciousness, dozed, and woke up with a start when Ware blasted in.

  He was covered in mud and horsehair. However, Ware being Ware, he was coolly sarcastic. “Hello, tender beauty.”

  Wolf must have thrown him, I thought. But when he stripped, there weren’t any bruises.

  “Up you get.” Ware pushed his clothes into my arms and set me free. “Come on. These must be seen to.”

  The inn’s thralls were doing laundry, but they all made way, giggling as they spotted Ware’s rippling muscles. A guildsman living a cushy indoor life might be modest, but Ware was clearly used to camp because he just stripped, not even noticing the ogling girls.

  While he sluiced himself under the pump, I brushed the mud and hair off his things.

  “Thanks.” Ware was dripping wet and shivering with cold. “Beautiful job.”

  You know, I’d spent most of my life cleaning, cooking, laundering and whatever else needed doing because that’s what thralls are for, but nobody had ever said thanks before.

  I looked into the cold grey eyes. “This looks like you were rolling in mud.”

  He shrugged. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

  “Wallowing, were you? All four trotters in the air?”

  At my words, the inn’s thralls were staring, openly shocked. I didn’t care, but Ware frowned.

  “Lind, you’re hurting my feelings.” The words were mocking but he was tense.

  “I thought trotters was pretty discreet.” The inn’s thralls were giggling, and without thinking, I added, “Didn’t you know that thralls call their owners pigs?”

  Instantly there was a dead hush. The girls were silent with horror, probably because I’d told the truth, and Ware was completely blank. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Those iron eyes were contemplative.

  The devil inside of me told me I didn’t care. So I ignored Ware and turned to the laundry.

  There’s a song we thralls sing that goes, “Pig, pig, pig. Dirty little pig. Come, I’ll wash you. Come all, wash your pig clean away.”

  If anyone asks, we say the stain is a pig, but everyone knows we call our owners pigs so the song’s pretty clear. What we want is to kill off all the pigs. That song is forbidden almost everywhere, and in Haven you get six lashes just for humming it.

  Ware knew the song and what it meant, and he was raging. “You need to be taught a lesson.”

  Crap. I’d pushed him too far. He was going to beat me. I was certain of it.

  I acted on instinct, tossing his clothes at him and ducking under his arm as he reached for me. I’d taken just two steps when he caught me.

  He dragged me backwards, holding me by the collar. “It’s time you learned some manners.”

  “Let go of me!” I kicked out, already feeling the bite of the cane. It did me no good at all. Ware picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. “Tyr’s warty cock up your arse!”

  He marched back to the inn, with me pounding his back with my fists. I knew the thralls were staring, and I heard some laughing. Attracted by the noise, several customers had come to see what was up to.

  “It’s that uppity thrall with the silver collar,” someone crowed. “She called him a pig!”

  “Go on,” another voice added. “Give her a thrashing, Master Fletcher!”

  It made me furiously angry. Nobody would ever beat me again. I’d fight to the death. “You cowardly fuck! Put me down!”

  Ware ignored everything, carrying me straight upstairs. He banged the door shut, tossed me on the bed and stood staring down at me. “That’s enough, Lind.”

  I bounced right back up. “I won’t do this anymore! I won’t be owned!”

  Attempting to punch him on the nose proved a mistake. He swayed lightly out of the way, pulled me up tight against him and then he was slapping me on the arse with the flat of his hand. “Enough’s enough.”

  I fought hard, hitting and kicking, but Ware was too fast and too strong. He kept whacking me on the bum, putting more and more effort into it when I didn’t cave, so I dipped my head and bit him. I got him right below the shoulder, gnawing deep.

  “Stop it.” Ware picked me up and shook me. “You evil she-wolf!”

  “Mangy whoreson! Fucker! I’ll kill you!”

  Ware changed tactics. He threw me o
n the bed and began stripping me. The heavy skirts vanished, followed swiftly by my knickers, tunic and shift. He was ruthless and brutally efficient. Before I could catch my breath, I was flat on my face, totally starkers, and Ware was on top of me, tying my wrists tight in the small of my back.

  “I will kill you for this!” I knew he was going to whip me. “You cowardly bastard!”

  “I’m going to beat the hell out of you.” Ware had lost it; I heard it in his voice. “You ungrateful wretch!”

  He was sitting on my thighs, so I kicked up with my feet and bucked. I’m all muscle and limber, so I knocked him off me. Ware rolled to the floor, but he kept a hold of me so I went flying with him. We thumped down, me landing on top of him.

  For a moment, all the breath was knocked out of us. I was lying there, feeling Ware’s hard body under mine. He was breathing fast, and his hands were gripping like steel shackles.

  I got my breath back. “Go on, then. You’ve got me tied up. Now beat me!”

  “I’ve had it with you.” Ware was rolling me off him and sitting up. He threw me back on the bed, on my back, and leaned over me. “You’re getting a whipping.”

  “I’ll never give in. Never!”

  Ware’s cool self-possession had vanished. He was spitting mad. His eyes were narrowed, his lips thinned, and there was a pulse beating in his jaw. He was also bleeding. There were teeth marks on his shoulder and a couple of long scratches on his neck.

  The biggest thing, though, was his hard-on. Ware’s cock was rock-solid, quivering against my stomach.

  My brain went on a trip, and I was opening my big mouth, taunting him. “What? Are you going to fuck me into submission?”

  Ware blinked and then he was growling at me. “Good idea.”

  Tyr help me and silence my unruly tongue! I can take a whipping anytime, but being brutalised terrified me. I was eight years old again, feeling my insides rip and tear.

  He held me down with one hand on my collar as he stripped off breeches and tunic. His face was granite and his eyes steel.

  I was petrified. “No, Ware! No! For pity’s sake!” It was me, wailing. “Don’t!”

  I was panicked, realising I was pinned, helpless. Ware was holding me down effortlessly, settling between my thighs, the hand curled around my collar keeping me immobile.

  “No, Ware! No!”

  The grey eyes were like flint. He was enraged, intent on getting his own back. I knew this was going to hurt. I braced myself, terrified but unable to shut my eyes. I’d not scream, I promised myself. I grit my teeth, preparing for agony.

  Then it happened. The miracle.

  Ware looked into my eyes and stopped.

  I was staring at him, tears running down my face, breath stuck in my throat. I couldn’t think. All I could see was those steely eyes, staring into mine. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t, Ware.”

  The iron grip on my collar loosened. Ware took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He let go and then his hand brushed my hair. “Lind, you’d try the patience of a goddamn Freyjan nun.”

  “Nuns can’t own property.” I cheeked him without thinking, but my heart stopped trying to bang its way out of my chest. I took a shuddering breath. My stomach stopped clenching, too. I blessed Ware for his ice-cold control, but I couldn’t think of what to say. Babbling gratitude stuck in my throat.

  The steel eyes were gazing right into mine. “You’re impossible.”

  He was pressed so close to me that I could feel his heart beat.

  “You’re infuriating, difficult and I want you.” Ware dipped his head, his lips brushing mine. They were soft, sweetly dancing against mine. The heat of his body was flowing against mine, the signature woody scent surrounding me. “You’re mine.” The lips were in my neck, his breath brushing my ear. “Say it.”

  “Won’t.” But I was kissing his neck, rubbing my face against his hair. It was pure relief, I think. “Never.”

  The hard cock was brushing over my clit, his broad chest leaning on me lightly as Ware settled carefully on top of me. “Nasty little she-wolf.”

  Maybe it was sheer relief, but I found myself arching against him. “I won’t be tamed. I’ll fight.”

  His lips were nuzzling my breasts, his tongue lightly flicking a puckered nipple. “Not now, Lind.” His hands were moving behind my back, pulling my body close. “Be nice.”

  It was he who was nice. Ware was gentle, slow and sweet as he caressed me.

  Soon I floated as he kissed, licked and nuzzled. The hardness of him contrasted with the soft touches, melting me on the spot. As his hands moved over my back, the calluses rough, shivers of excitement were rippling through me.

  I was enveloped in his scent: rich aromatic yew and oak. He was moving down, his lips brushing my navel, his tongue teasing. It was the strangest thing, being kissed. His lips were warm and firm, soft yet demanding. Each little touch added power to the ripples flooding through me.

  “This time you do what I want. No rushing me.” He was kissing my thighs, his hands pushing up my hips. The lips tickled, teased and then he was sucking my clit. “Say you’re mine, Lind.”

  “Oh Tyr’s silk ribbon, don’t stop!” I was awash in exquisite sensation, drowning in bliss. My hips were shuddering and my breath ragged. I was arching like a bow, leaning into those silken lips. I could feel my hands hard in my back, my fingers flexing as I gave myself over to pleasure.

  “Say you’re mine.”

  I didn’t even think. “You’re mine.”

  I heard him chuckle. “Devil!” But those lips were back at work, licking and laving. The wash of delight became a sea, carrying me away. “Don’t stop. Never stop!”

  He did. Again. “Say it, Lind.”

  “Yours. I’m yours.” My clit was thumping, my thighs suddenly quivering with tension. I was spreading my legs, picturing that erection, wanting that hard, hot heat inside me. “Fuck me, Ware!”

  He was over me, that hardness sliding into me, filling me, stretching me in the most heavenly way. The fierce muscles were wrapped around me, his rich earthy scent blanketing my senses, as we began to pulse together. He leaned up, looking down on me as he arched his hips, fucking me with slow deep thrusts.

  His hand slid behind my neck, wrapping around my collar, anchoring me. “Slowly, Lind.”

  Slow it was. I thrust up, feeling him fill me, possessing me. “Please, don’t stop!”

  The grey eyes were gazing into mine. “Never.”

  I clenched and arched, my body moving as he demanded. Seconds later, I was drowning in sensation, drenched in sweetness.

  “Lind,” his voice was a low growl. “Fuck me.”

  The ocean of rapture engulfed me in throbbing ecstasy. I was bucking and squealing. “Harder! More! Faster!” My legs were up high, pushing my aching clit against his body, my ankles twisting together to drown me in that sea of delight.

  “Mine! Lind! Mine!” He dipped his head and bit my neck. The exquisite sharpness sent me tumbling into screaming orgasm. I was shuddering in creamy waves, biting and arching, my ankles thudding in his back, howling like a bitch on heat.

  We flexed and twisted, shimmering in perfect rhythm. I became aware of the sweat dripping off me, of Ware’s rasping gulping breaths, and of our bodies, wound tightly together, straining against each other as the sweet washes of bliss ebbed away.

  We came to a shuddering halt, gasping for air. I felt drained yet light, as if my body would fly away without Ware anchoring me. I buried my face in his neck, nuzzling the soft skin. “I’m not yours,” the words were floating out of nowhere. “I lied.”

  He was thumbing the hair away from my face. “You were definitely whelped by a she-wolf,” he murmured.

  “You’re crushing me and my nose itches.”

  I felt him laughing as he rolled off and lay down next to me, pulling me into his arms. I was talking tough but shaking like a leaf. Reaction, probably. My legs were spasming, and I could barely catch my breath.

  Ware w
as holding me but making no effort to set me loose. That black anger I’d seen in him was gone, or at least well hidden. He was pensive, considering something.

  Me, I was thinking. Part of me was wishing I’d just knuckled down. Life with Ware was better than anything I could hope for. But it was crazy thinking. This was purely temporary.

  Ware wanted me for something, and when he was done, he’d sell me. He probably had a wife somewhere, or his family would have one waiting for him. The second he got back to Llanfaes, or before that, I’d have a new owner.

  I’m not special, so I’d be passed from one to another, until I wasn’t worth even feeding. There may be the odd thrall who lives with a family for life but most of us are traded like beasts at a market. We are old before our time, worn out by hard labour, and we die of hunger and disease. I had no future unless I was free.

  Ware was moving, holding the back of my collar and pulling me away from him so he could see my face. “No more cheek,” he said calmly. “I don’t want to, but I will cane you if you curse me in public again.”

  Yes, Ware had softened for a moment but now he was back and focusing on business. He was laying down the rules, threatening me with all kinds of dire punishment if I crossed him. All owners do that, but usually after a beating, not fucking. I tuned him out. The cottage was by the city gates. There’d be opportunity to run.

  “Are you listening?” Ware was tugging gently at my collar. “I said, I can’t have my assistant behaving like a foul-mouthed back-alley whore.”

  I stared at him like a halfwit. “What?”

  “If you behave badly, I won’t train you.”

  Train me. But not like a horse or a dog. “You’ll teach me to make arrows?”

  “Yes. Bows, too.”

  He wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t mocking me. He was, however, completely crazy.

  “It’s not allowed.”

  “Says who?” Typical arrogant Ware! “I need someone to work for me. It’s nobody else’s business.”

  “But women aren’t allowed to do Guild work.”