Captive

by A. D. Robertson

  “Tristan.” Her voice cracked when she said his name, and she bit her lip with chagrin.

  His movements became stiff, but he didn’t turn to face her. “What is it, Sarah?”

  Though Tristan kept at his task, his anger was clear in the way the pitchfork jerked in his hands.

  Sarah’s fingernails dug into her palms. She’d come to try to untangle her knot of confusing impulses, but how could she when he wouldn’t even look at her.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” Tristan’s laugh was disdainful. “Feel free to pick up a fork and lend a hand.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Talk, then.”

  Edging toward him, Sarah said, “About last night . . . I shouldn’t have said those things about you.”

  His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak. His cold demeanor made Sarah’s chest cramp.

  “Tristan, please.” She’d come up beside him. “I want things to be right between us.” Right between us? I don’t even know what that means. She doubted any words would suffice to describe the mess she’d found herself in.

  Tristan paused and then set the pitchfork down. At first Sarah was relieved, but when he looked at her she was filled with dread. The bitterness in his gaze made her take a step back.

  “How can things be right between us, Sarah?” He snapped. “Ever? Have you forgotten who I am? Who you are?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You didn’t have to come down here to apologize,” Tristan continued. “What you said was true. And it did a fine job of reminding me where I belong. I am nothing more than your enemy. I’m everything you hate.”

  “Don’t say that,” Sarah whispered. Her chest cramped at the implications of his words. She couldn’t blame him. Hadn’t she been the one to say she never wanted him to touch her again? Those words had been fueled by grief and fear, but she didn’t know how to take them back.

  “Why not?” Tristan’s mouth hooked into a cruel smile. “Would you rather I lied to you?”

  Sarah stared at him. She was tempted to run, as she felt tears threatening. Instead, she forced her chin up, facing her own fears as much as his obstinacy.

  “Why are you saying this?” Sarah asked. “I know I made you angry and I’m sorry for that. But this isn’t you.”

  “Because you know me so well.” Tristan started to turn away, but Sarah grabbed his arm.

  He went very still. “Don’t.”

  Sarah didn’t let go. She moved closer to him, reaching up to touch his cheek with her other hand.

  “Don’t,” he said again, closing his eyes. “You asked me not to touch you again. If you meant that, walk away now.”

  She stroked her fingers along his temple and jaw. “I’m not walking away.”

  “Sarah,” he said.

  She rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him. His body didn’t yield to her touch, and he remained stiff, inflexible.

  “Tristan, I—” Her throat wanted to close, but she forced the words out. “I know exactly who you are . . . and I’m in love with you.”

  Tristan went very still, and Sarah stood watching him. She’d never intended to confess so much, and suddenly she could hear only the hammering of her pulse as she held her breath.

  Then Tristan groaned and wrapped his arms around her. He lifted Sarah up and carried her into the stall, laying her upon the fresh bed of hay. She opened her mouth when he bent to kiss her. His lips and tongue met Sarah’s with a force that verged on desperate.

  Sarah gasped when Tristan’s arm slid beneath her and rocked her hips up against him. His erection was already straining against his jeans, pushing into the softness between her legs. The strokes of his hands and the hunger in his kiss made it plain how much he needed her.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered. “I can’t lose you, Sarah.”

  Molding her palms to the hard muscles of Tristan’s upper back, Sarah pulled him down onto her body, welcoming his weight and the thrust of his hips against hers.

  “I need to fuck you hard.” His teeth grazed her neck. “Now.”

  At the raw edge of Tristan’s voice, Sarah felt a sudden, clenching heat between her thighs. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded.

  Tristan rose to his knees and tugged off Sarah’s jeans and panties. Leaving her shirt on, Tristan grasped Sarah’s hips, turning her onto her hands and knees in one smooth motion.

  Sarah was breathing hard as she heard Tristan unzip his fly. She felt his hands gripping her hips and then she cried out as the hard length of him thrust inside her.

  He pulled back and thrust again. Sarah moaned, dropping her head as heat washed over her body. Tristan’s fingers took a near-bruising grip on her skin as he found his rhythm, pounding into her, each thrust of his hips harder, faster.

  Sarah dug her nails into the ground, feeling her body tense as pleasure welled deep inside her. Tristan’s balls slapped against her with each thrust of his cock, making her tremble and then shudder as her climax came in waves. She felt Tristan grow even harder as she came, then he groaned as he spent himself inside her.

  After quickly pulling out of her, Tristan drew Sarah’s body against his and rolled them over to lay curled in the sweetly scented hay. He pushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck and her shoulders.

  “Get dressed,” Tristan murmured, “and come with me to the baths.”

  24

  STEAM CLOUDS BILLOWED around Tristan and Sarah as they sank into the hot water of the bath. Tristan was grateful for the quiet and privacy offered by the thick heat of the room. He needed to feel apart from the madness that his world had become, even if it was only for a little while.

  He settled onto the bench in the deeper section of the bath while Sarah submerged, soaking her hair and face. She languidly floated in the water while Tristan watched steam silhouette her body like silken gauze. His gaze followed her movements and he resisted the urge to go to her and take her in his arms. Tristan regarded the intensity of his feelings with deep wariness. He didn’t deny their existence, but he wasn’t entirely comfortable claiming them either. To want someone as much as he wanted Sarah left Tristan uneasy. His life had always been carefully controlled; what he felt for Sarah was unpredictable, almost wild, both addictive and alarming.

  “I am a fan of these baths.” Sarah swam up to Tristan and nestled in the curve of his arm. Tristan pulled her close, running his fingers over her wet skin. The water cradled her breasts, and Tristan drew her onto his lap so he could fondle them. His cock grew hard at the thought, seemingly never sated even after having so recently taken her.

  Sarah shifted restlessly against Tristan, but not in a way that signaled she was feeling amorous.

  Reining in his ardor, Tristan asked, “What is it?”

  “Seamus told me to ask about your parents,” Sarah said.

  “Seamus said that?” Tristan’s arms tightened around Sarah. Why would the old wolf be pushing Sarah to learn about his past?

  “Yes.” Sarah turned so she could look at him. “What do you think he wants me to know about them?”

  “I’m not sure.” Tristan sighed. He usually avoided giving too much thought to his childhood. “He was never fond of my parents, but then again, neither was I—at least not of my father. Truthfully, Seamus took care of me more than either of them.”

  “Why is that?”

  Tristan leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Sarah’s damp mouth. He needed the reassurance of her closeness before he traversed any further into this conversation.

  “How much do you know about Keeper lineage?” Tristan asked.

  “Very little.” Sensing his uneasiness, Sarah wrapped her arms around Tristan’s neck. “I know that Bosque Mar, the Harbinger, made the first Keepers way back whe
n and there have been more ever since.”

  “Not many more,” Tristan told her. “We keep our numbers small so we don’t have to share too much power. And we only have children as we are bidden.”

  “As you’re bidden?” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “You have children when you’re told to. Who does the bidding?”

  “Bosque.”

  She drew back from him, and Tristan saw fear in her eyes. “He has that much control over your lives?”

  “Those of us he deems important enough.” Tristan shrugged to hide the tension building beneath his ribs.

  “And what makes one Keeper more important than another?” Sarah asked. “You aren’t all the same?”

  Tristan shook his head. “Our world is very hierarchical, much like the one in which we first came to power. Bosque favors Keepers who can trace their lineage back to Eira, and demands they carry on his legacy in this realm.”

  “And you can?”

  “Yes.” Tristan tangled his fingers in Sarah’s wet hair. “Eira is my grandmother.”

  He felt Sarah tense. “Your grandmother was the first Keeper.”

  “And my parents married and produced an heir when Bosque dictated that they must,” Tristan said quickly. “No sooner.”

  “Were they in love?” Sarah frowned at him.

  “No,” Tristan answered. “They came from the proper families.”

  Sarah touched his cheek. “That’s awful.”

  He laughed roughly. “I suppose it is.”

  “Not to get too Freudian,” Sarah said carefully, “but you don’t believe your parents didn’t love you, do you? Because I’m sure they must have.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Tristan replied, smiling at how convincing Sarah had tried to sound. “My mother did, but she was always brusque with me—concerned that I not be coddled. My father treated me like a business transaction. He had very little to do with raising me. If I give them the benefit of the doubt, I’d say that perhaps they didn’t want to encourage me to become attached because they knew they weren’t long for the world. And I’d be alone.”

  Sarah shivered and Tristan pulled her onto his lap. She tucked her head beneath his chin.

  “Will you always be alone here?” Sarah asked him.

  “Bosque sends visitors on occasion,” Tristan replied. “But no one will come to stay until—” He stopped, not wanting to upset her, but Sarah finished the thought for him.

  “Until he sends you a wife.”

  “Yes.”

  Sarah became very quiet.

  “I don’t want it,” Tristan murmured. “I’ve never wanted it.”

  “What do you want?” Sarah’s lips brushed his throat when she spoke.

  Tristan pushed her away from his chest and tipped her chin up. “I want you.”

  He bent to kiss her, but Sarah turned her face away.

  “Tristan, I can’t be that to you,” she said. “I love you. But I won’t become a Keeper.”

  “I’m not asking you to,” Tristan said quietly. “Even if I was, Bosque would never allow it.”

  “But before now you’ve asked me to stay,” Sarah said.

  “I know.” Tristan dropped his gaze. “That was before . . . when it was all part of a game.”

  He glanced at Sarah, expecting her fury, but she was nodding. “I understand. It was a game for me, too . . . at first.”

  Relieved, Tristan continued. “I told you that Keepers have children when bidden, but we aren’t like Guardians, whose reproduction is wholly regulated by Keepers.”

  “I don’t follow.” Sarah tilted her head, waiting for his reply.

  “Accidental pregnancies happen,” Tristan said. “Keepers elope. It’s rare, but there are those who have risked Bosque’s anger to pursue their own desires.”

  “And what happens to them?” Sarah asked.

  “It depends.” Tristan smiled ruefully. “Sometimes on Bosque’s mood, sometimes on the offender. He’s more likely to let things slide with the lower-ranking Keepers. There will always be a punishment, but its severity ranges widely.”

  “All right, but what does that have to do with you?”

  “It has more to do with my cousin, Marise, but it affects me,” Tristan answered. “Marise Bane can trace her lineage back to Eira, just as I can. And Bosque had specific designs for her family’s future. But it was rumored that Marise had fallen in love with another Keeper in Vail, where she lived, a woman: Lumine Nightshade.”

  “That’s quite the rumor.” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

  “Even more so in the nineteenth century, which was when they met,” Tristan said. “How they were discovered and what Bosque did about it is all speculation. But the relationship was quashed and Marise rebelled in the way she knew would hurt Bosque the most. She eloped before he could marry her off.”

  “With who?”

  “With a literal gold-digging card player at one of the Colorado mining camps,” Tristan said. “And now Efron Bane is one of us—though Bosque still dislikes him.”

  Sarah laughed. “Who knew the lives of Keepers were so scandalous?”

  Tristan smiled, but his mirth quickly faded. “Obviously Marise is much, much older than I am. All of this had taken place before I was born, but once I was, Bosque made it clear that no such mishaps would be taking place in my future. That’s why I’m on this island.”

  “You’re fucking Rapunzel,” Sarah said, rather stunned.

  “Yes.” Tristan sighed. “Yes, I am.”

  Her startled expression became troubled. “So you were sent here with the aim of keeping you free of worldly entanglements.”

  Tristan nodded.

  “There’s something I need to ask you.” Sarah shifted away from him, anxious.

  “Of course.” Tristan watched her agitation with growing alarm. “What is it, Sarah?” Tristan grasped her upper arms. “You’re trembling.”

  “I . . . I was sent here because we learned that something important to the Keepers was hidden in this castle,” Sarah whispered. “My mission was to find it.”

  “That’s what you want to know?” Tristan’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “There’s nothing hidden here.”

  Sarah rested her palm against Tristan’s chest. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “You need better spies.”

  “It’s not a thing, Tristan,” Sarah said slowly. “It’s you.”

  Tristan’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “I think it means I need to get you off this island.”

  He released her arms and climbed out of the bath. “That’s impossible.”

  “Have you ever tried to leave?” Sarah asked as Tristan wrapped a towel around his waist.

  Bitterness crept up Tristan’s throat. “Do you even have to ask?”

  He didn’t want to think about how many times he’d imagined what it would have been like to leave the island and seek another life. But he’d always known such thoughts were fantasies, indulged at one’s own peril.

  Sarah exited the bath and came to face him. Water dripped down her naked body and Tristan felt his cock stir again. The determination on her face made him certain that he needed to dissuade her from this nascent plan.

  “Leaving the island isn’t an option.” He handed her a towel so he could focus on their conversation.

  “You can’t know that,” Sarah replied.

  “Of course I can,” Tristan said, feeling a twinge of disappointment when Sarah covered herself with the towel. “My entire life is designed around my not leaving the island.”

  Sarah shook her head. “But you’ve never been in this position before.”

  “What position?”

  “You have help.” Sarah put her hands on her hips. “I can help
you.”

  Tristan laughed. “You. As in, my prisoner.”

  Sarah’s face fell and Tristan immediately regretted his words. “I shouldn’t have said that, Sarah. It’s just a difficult subject for me. I can’t leave. No matter how much I want to.”

  “It’s ridiculous to abandon the idea out of hand,” Sarah shot back. “And yes, I know I’m your prisoner. But if you took a moment to think this through, you’d see that it’s not just me who would help us.”

  Tristan frowned at her and Sarah threw up her hands in exasperation. “Seamus! Seamus obviously wants to help you get out of here. Why else would he have me digging into your past?”

  “Seamus is a Guardian,” Tristan said. “Their loyalty is absolute.”

  “Perhaps,” Sarah replied. “And I know that’s why Keepers use them as soldiers, but in this case I’d say Seamus’s loyalty isn’t to the Keepers. It’s to you.”

  Tristan drew a long breath. “Maybe.”

  Sarah grasped Tristan’s hands, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Talk to him. Please. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “That alone could be a great risk,” Tristan answered. And the risk wasn’t to him. Bosque wouldn’t kill someone of Eira’s line; Tristan knew that much. But he’d eliminate Sarah without hesitation.

  “Think about who Seamus has been to you, Tristan,” Sarah urged. “Do you really think he’d do anything that would cause you harm?”

  “Fine.” Tristan leaned down and kissed her gently. “I’ll talk to him. But I can’t promise anything more.”

  “I’m not asking for anything more.” Sarah smiled against his lips. “Yet.”

  Tristan left the baths before Sarah, who decided she needed time in the heat and steam to actually relax. Despite the soothing touch of the water, Sarah found it difficult to release the tension that knotted her limbs.

  Sarah didn’t doubt that Tristan loved her. But when it came to abandoning everything he’d ever known, she worried that his love might not be enough. Sarah knew what she was asking of him: that he give up his world in order to join hers. Of course Tristan would balk at the suggestion. Even if he did claim that he wanted no part of his Keeper inheritance, joining the ranks of his longtime enemies was another matter altogether.