by Caris Roane
She wore the long white linen gown denoting her position as a personal maid to the bitch from hell. Her beautiful red hair was braided off to the side, though she often wore it on a crown on top of her head. Her large green eyes sparkled with life, despite her enslavement. And when she smiled, he heard the angels sing.
But her skin, so creamy white, made her look fragile and tugged on his warrior instincts to protect her, despite how strong he knew her to be.
He had it bad.
He was as familiar with her history almost as well as his own. Over the past year, especially since he’d gained house privileges and had lived in a decent dungeon cell, he’d had hundreds of conversations with her. They shared one thing in particular in common; neither had any remaining kin in the Nine Realms. All his people, including his parents, were long dead as were Sandra’s. She’d even lost a husband and son. He didn’t know how she’d survived the horrific way her family had been taken from her.
He’d never known a woman like her before. She was fully fae, not the usual vampire female he went for. She had a tender heart combined with what he’d come to know as a will of granite. She’d survived because she believed it was the best way to show her love for those she’d been unable to save. She was an exceptional, worthy woman.
Every morning when he went to bed just before dawn, he begged the Goddess forgiveness for his treachery because of the sparring sessions, then prayed for his death.
Each evening, when he woke up still breathing, he sought out Sandra to make sure she was all right. He consoled himself with the thought that maybe he would find redemption if he could keep her safe.
But how safe could she be when she’d made a decision to help the tower prisoner escape?
Griffin hadn’t actually seen Regan, the Ruby Fae, but all the slaves knew Margetta had succeeded in capturing one of the most powerful fae in all the Nine Realms. She was also planning on bonding her to a powerful male wraith. As an Invictus, Regan would then have more power than she’d ever experienced before. Unfortunately, she’d also have a broken personality with little concern for others and a zealous willingness to obey Margetta in all things.
Only recently, Regan had helped Zane of Swanicott defeat a large brigade of Invictus that Margetta had kept hidden in the eastern part of Mastyr Zane’s Realm. The fortress slave-staff, as well as the army encampment on the border between Camberlaune and Tannisford Realms, had talked of nothing else for a full week, of the numbers lost, of the possibility Margetta could actually lose the war and her bid for the takeover of their world.
Of course, these fears were balanced heavily with the reality that Margetta held the Ruby Fae in her tower.
And this was the woman Sandra was intent on helping escape.
Griffin could admire Sandra’s intention, but loathed it at the same time.
From the moment she’d told him of her plan to give Regan a duplicate key to her tower cell, his battle vibration had raced through his body, trying to figure out how to stop her. Or if he couldn’t, then how to protect her.
He glanced in the direction of the doors leading outside. It wouldn’t be long before one of the Invictus vampires would come looking for him. He’d probably be beaten for not showing up on time. But when Sandra had told him what she intended to do, he’d lagged behind, intent on making sure she came to no harm.
When at last she reached the sole remaining key in the hallway, he watched her shoulders sink. There wasn’t a match after all. Thank the Goddess.
The relief he felt was a wave that washed over him, allowing him to breathe once more. “You’ve done what you could; now you can let this go.”
But she turned toward him, her lips compressed, her green eyes darkening. She spoke in a low voice. “You don’t understand, Griffin. I’ve already made the decision to do everything in my power to help Mistress Regan escape. And if I have to turn the entire fortress upside down in my hunt for the duplicate key, then that’s what I’ll do. Although, I have toyed with the idea of getting the guard drunk so he won’t follow me to the tower. Then I’ll let the Ruby Fae out myself. And now I have to put the key back before he returns.”
She then turned and moved swiftly down the hall. He followed after her, his hands clenched into fists. The first plan to get the duplicate key to the Ruby Fae was bad enough. But this new one, to take the original to Regan, shrank his balls.
“Please, don’t even think it.” He whispered the words over her shoulder a she hurried toward the guard’s room.
The troll, whose job it was to accompany Sandra to the tower cell, would be only too happy to expose her traitorous efforts to Margetta.
She reached the guardroom and he watched in relief as she slipped the key back on its hook. As she retraced her steps then turned up the hall, he could finally breathe.
She glanced at him. “Why do you look so mad?”
He drew her to a stop, turning her toward him. “I don’t want you to do this, any of it. I don’t want you to risk your life. If anything happened to you—”
He couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence. Instead his mind, or maybe it was his heart, burned with a sudden realized truth. Somewhere, in the middle of this nightmare in Margetta’s fortress, he’d fallen deeply in love with Sandra.
Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared back at him. He had hold of her arms again. He might have released her, might have taken a step back, but a long swooshing sound came from her lips. She then leaned up and kissed him.
She kissed him.
Sweet Goddess and all the elf lords burning in hell, nothing had felt better to him in his entire existence than Sandra’s lips pressed to his.
He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her hard to his chest. When her lips parted, he slid his tongue into heaven.
He groaned at so much wet softness, the promise of what she had between her legs. He sank into her mouth, then offered a slow push-pull of his tongue to give her a taste of what he had to offer.
The sudden sound of laughter down the hall had her drawing back, but he didn’t want the moment to end, couldn’t let it.
He switched to telepathy, something he could do with Sandra because she possessed a strong ability to path. I don’t want to let you go.
Griffin. Her hands were on his waist, squeezing.
Glancing around, he released her, caught her hand then pulled her swiftly down a short hall leading to a half dozen storage rooms. Her slippers made a soft rasp on the hard stone floor as she moved with him.
He opened the door to one of the fortress’s large pantries then pulled her inside. Careful not to make a sound, he shut the door.
If he’d had any doubt about her interest in the brief, forbidden moment, he was reassured when she threw herself against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight.
He turned her, pressing her up against the thick wood door, connecting his hips to hers. She was breathing hard as he kissed her again. She smelled like heaven, like a combination of herbs from the garden. He recognized one as rosemary, but the other he couldn’t quite place. Sage, maybe. Her scent worked on him in a powerful way, causing his hips to arch into her.
She moaned in response, her body writhing beneath his. Her hunger matched his own. Drawing back, he petted her face with his hand, stroking her alabaster cheek with his thumb. His gaze took in her dilated pupils and the way she kept catching her breath.
He savored the full length of her body, the softness of her skin, and her delicate herbal scent.
His whole body vibrated with desire, his legs shaking with need. He’d never used the slave women who serviced the men; he’d never wanted to. What he wanted was this and he knew she could feel his arousal by the way her hips moved from side to side. He groaned, leaned in and settled his lips on hers once more.
He was kissing her at long last.
Fire and love combined.
Hunger.
He hadn’t understood that his drive toward her, to be with her in the fortre
ss, to look after her, had been so much more than a warrior’s instinct.
He loved this woman, loved her with all his heart. And he wanted to bury himself between her legs.
The housekeeper’s voice called from down the hall. “Sandra, where are you? I need my feet rubbed and you promised.”
As he drew back, he had to laugh. “From this to tending a troll’s warty feet.”
Sandra shrugged, but she smiled. “Yvonne has been here longer than me by another thirty years and gives me plenty of freedom for this small service. Besides,” her eyes took on a distant expression, “She’s my friend, a fellow-slave, and she’s kindness personified. So, yes, I’ll go from the magic of being with you to tending her aching feet. She works long hours and has very limited self-healing ability.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “You have a good heart, Sandra.”
“So do you.” She caressed his face. “But, Griffin, I didn’t know.”
“What? What didn’t you know?” He needed to hear her say the words.
“What we have between us. It’s love, isn’t it? Until now, this night, I thought it was friendship. Or maybe what I’m feeling is just some kind of fortress desperation.”
He wanted to say ‘No, it’s love’, but he feared saying the words out loud. Life in the fortress was a struggle. If Margetta or any of the Invictus servants knew how he felt about her, it could be used against them. “This is unwise.”
He felt her body grow still. “You’re right, it is.”
He drew back meeting her saddened eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by saying that.”
“You didn’t. You just reminded me of our reality.” She planted her hands on his chest then gently pushed him away. “I should go.”
He stepped back a few feet, giving her space. He was still aroused and would need a minute to calm down. She pulled two linen towels off the shelf as well as a bar of soap.
With her hand on the door, she looked back at him over her shoulder. “You’re not my type, you know. Not even a little. You’re too handsome, too big, too strong, too much a warrior. Sweet Goddess, help me.”
Though the room was dark, his vampire vision warmed up her features and he couldn’t let her go thinking he was okay with her scheme. “I won’t help you hunt for the key.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glimmering with tears. “I’m not asking you to. I don’t want you in any kind of danger because of what I’m doing. But you should head out to spar before you’re found and punished.” She opened the door and slipped through.
He heard her call to the housekeeper. “I’m here, Mistress. I have towels and soap. Let me fetch the hot water.”
Griffin remained in one spot, fists on hips, his gaze pinned to the floor. If he was at all wise, he would forget about her.
Then he smiled. She thought him handsome, strong, and too much a warrior. Like hell he was forgetting anything.
After waiting several minutes, long after hearing Sandra’s voice, as well as the housekeeper’s, fade to nothing, he left the storage room.
Heading to the north-facing door near the guard’s room, he passed into the fortress vegetable garden then trotted in the direction of the training camps. The night was dark, almost moonless and as in the storage room, his vision lit up the vista as though the sun shone.
His chest tightened at the sight of hundreds of rows of tents as far as the eye could see. Wraith’s shrieked as they flew overhead. Margetta had found a way to harness the unruly Invictus pairs and shape them into a formidable army. Goddess help the combined Vampire Guards and Shifter Brigades of the Nine Realms, because the Ancient Fae’s army was bigger than the ruling mastyrs had ever thought possible.
CHAPTER TWO
Sandra took her time easing the pain in Yvonne’s feet, as much by a soothing massage as by the healing she released into the woman’s knobby toes and flattened arches. Afterward, the housekeeper prepped the tray for Sandra to take to the tower. When she wasn’t waiting on Margetta directly, Sandra served the overburdened housekeeper in any way she needed, including taking meals to the Ruby Fae.
Once there, she found Mistress Regan sitting on the high window sill. The powerful fae often levitated to the otherwise inaccessible place to look out over the army grounds.
Sandra didn’t speak with her since the troll could hear their conversation. He waited on the other side of the now locked door, peering into the room through the barred window. The troll reported everything to Margetta.
Sandra gripped the tray in both hands, waiting in a submissive pose with her neck bent forward slightly.
Mistress Regan wrapped her long gown tight to her legs as she made a slow descent, careful not to hit any of the furniture while coming down. The tower was not a large space, just really tall and impossible to escape except by the door.
Regan was a beautiful woman with light brown hair and dark eyes. She had strong cheekbones and a lovely straight nose. But her real beauty lay within. She had a spiritual calm that somehow made Sandra feel better just by entering the small round chamber.
Once Regan sat down at the table, Sandra laid out the silverware and food in the usual order, careful to obey Margetta’s rules to the letter: bowl and plate first, then an embroidered cloth napkin, large spoon, and a small ceramic cup of blackberry wine. Even this would be reported.
Fortunately, Sandra had exceptional telepathic abilities and had been able to path with Regan from the beginning. But even in this she kept their exchanges brief. Lingering too long in the room because she was pathing with the Ruby Fae could alert the troll as well. She might despise the guard for the soulless creature he was, but he wasn’t stupid. Mistress, I wish you to know that I’m attempting to find the duplicate key to your room, since the guard would notice if the original was missing. Once I have it, I’ll bring it with the next meal.
Regan took Sandra’s hand, a gesture hidden from the troll because Sandra’s body blocked his view. I wasn’t sure it was something you could do, but I’m very grateful. I have the worst feeling Margetta is planning to bond me to a chosen mastyr soon.
Sandra was surprised. A mastyr? Not a wraith?
Yes, I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s what Margetta told me earlier when she visited my room. I believe I’m to be a reward for a mastyr who has aligned himself with her.
Sandra remained perfectly still. I’m very sorry, Mistress. Although you must be right about the timing because gossip in the fortress has been rife. But I’m doing all I can to find the key for you.
I’m more grateful than I can ever express.
It’s the least I can do for you and for the war against this terrible woman.
She left shortly afterward, more determined than ever to discover the location of the duplicate.
She thought about reverting to her original get-the-guard-drunk scheme, but Griffin was right. She’d have no chance of survival afterward since all evidence of the Ruby Fae’s escape would point to her. Somehow she had to locate the duplicate and sneak it to Regan during the last meal before dawn.
She spent the next hour searching through the various cupboards in the lowest levels of the fortress. If she was questioned, she planned to say she’d misplaced an entire box of Margetta’s favorite rose petal sachets. But no one asked what she was doing and for that, she was grateful.
There were numerous storage rooms and pantries, but she had no luck, even in the dungeon areas. Every key had a duplicate but the only places where they were kept were on the pegs outside the kitchen or in the guard room. But the duplicate to the tower wasn’t in either place which meant it had to be somewhere else. But where? She just hoped Margetta didn’t have it in her possession. If she did, Sandra would have to change plans and probably go with her get-the-troll-drunk scheme, after all.
As she returned to the slaves’ dining room to have her own bowl of soup, one of the maids, Trisha, intercepted her, dragging her into the hall near the bathrooms.
The young elven woman’
s eyes were wide. “Mistress Sandra, I’m so sorry, but Mastyr Griffin has been wounded while sparring. Badly. He’s lost a lot of blood. The healers have called for you. They have orders to summon Margetta if he approaches death, but as you know, it goes badly for all of them if she’s forced to leave her labors. Especially for Mastyr Griffin. Margetta will torture him if she has to bring him back from death again.”
The world went entirely white, except for young Trisha’s face. Her pointed ears twitched and tears bloomed in her dark brown eyes. “Mistress Sandra? Did you hear what I said?”
Sandra patted Trisha’s shoulder, but she wasn’t sure how to answer her. Was it only a couple of hours ago Griffin had kissed her? Sweet Goddess, she couldn’t bear the thought of Griffin suffering one more night at the hands of the Ancient Fae.
When the room no longer spun, she met Trisha’s gaze, choosing to ask the hardest question. “How close is he to succumbing?”
“Very. The healers were most adamant you should join them immediately. It was Mastyr Fulton who did this.”
Griffin’s feud with the vampire in charge of the sparring line was well-known. He despised Fulton more than even the Invictus pairs. From the time Griffin had been a captive in the camp, Fulton had tortured a number of slaves for the pleasure of it and several had died. Yet somehow Fulton had managed to dispose of the bodies without Margetta becoming aware of the murders. The Ancient Fae punished anyone who killed her slaves.
More often than not, when Griffin took mortal wounds, Fulton was the author.
With her heart pounding, she swallowed hard. “Where is he?”
“In the stables.”
“Please tell Mistress Yvonne where I’ve gone.”
“I will.”
Sandra picked up her long skirts and ran as fast as she could. Griffin was the reason she’d started feeling more like herself, like maybe she would be okay, like she could do the impossible and help the Ruby Fae escape. She didn’t want him to die. And the thought of how cruel Margetta could be when she had to use her healing power to bring any of her people back from the dead was an equal motivation to do her part.
