Tempting the Dryad

by Rebecca Rivard

  Her sex clenched at the possessiveness in his voice. The man could get her going with just a few short sentences.

  She finished and rose from the stream to face him. “I’ll remember that.” It came out huskier than she’d intended. Inviting.

  “See that you do.”

  He was on his feet now, the setting sun behind him, his strong, beautiful body outlined against the dark trees. His eyes glowed silver, and she knew he was using his night vision to look her over. Her skin tingled.

  She was used to running wild on her island, but she was also a solitary. She’d only had a few lovers, and she’d never felt completely comfortable with any of them. With any other man, she would’ve been already been dressed.

  But this was Tiago. She liked having him look at her. The heat in his eyes made her feel powerful…sensual. She lifted her hair from her shoulders in a deliberate movement that raised her breasts. Might as well give the man something to look at.

  His gaze zeroed in on her nipples, puckered from the cold. They pricked and hardened even more.

  His eyes flashed. When he spoke again, it sounded as if his teeth were clenched. “Get dressed, Alesia.”

  “Why?” But she stepped out of the water. “Are you worried about Jorge?” She’d seen the Rock Run sentries: a pair of river dolphins patrolling the river, and two more hard-faced men in a speedboat.

  “I wouldn’t have brought you here if I was. But you’ll be safer back in Rock Run territory, especially with me there.”

  She sat on a log to pull on her jeans. “So you’re going to stay the night?” she asked casually.

  “Hell, yeah. I’m not leaving you alone until we catch Jorge.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, started to sing. Sure, Tiago was on edge after what had happened in Baltimore, but he didn’t have to guard her personally. The extra sentries would keep her safe enough.

  If he was coming back with her, it was because he wanted to.

  As she reached for her tank top, Tiago crossed to her and knelt on the grass. He cupped her breasts and placed a soft, reverent kiss on each of her nipples.

  “You are so fucking sexy,” he gritted against her throat. “I’m always hard around you.” He moved between her thighs, one large hand palming her ass, and ground himself against her jeans.

  The tank top fell from her fingers. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself. He nuzzled her neck and her head fell back. He ran his lips over the hollow below her ear. His tongue flicked out, tasting her. Tiny stars of sensation danced over her skin.

  A gust of wind rattled the trees. She shivered as it passed over her damp body, and Tiago ran his hands over her back. “You’re cold—you should finish getting dressed. When we get back to your island, I’ll get a fire going.”

  “All right.”

  But neither of them moved. Instead they remained there, arms wrapped around each other, indulging themselves in light, sweet kisses: on the mouth, the face, the lobes of their ears. His body heated hers. A few yards away, the waterfall played a quiet song over the stones.

  Tiago exhaled and released her. “We need to go, babe.”

  He handed her the tank top and then stepped into the trees to relieve himself. Meanwhile, she finished dressing and then returned to the blanket to pack up their leftovers. When he reappeared, he went into the creek to wash. It was too dark now to see much, but she got some nice glimpses of hard wet shoulders and a taut ass.

  He had pulled on his pants and T-shirt when he stilled and sniffed the air. “Hurry up. Someone’s coming.” He slung the messenger bag over his shoulder, grabbed her hand and started down the path toward the kayak.

  They’d only gone ten yards when he paused and took another deep inhale. Then he shoved her toward the trees. “It’s Jorge,” he hissed. “Get out of here—now. I’ll be all right.”

  Her heart stuttered. She could see them now, too: two dark shapes, coming rapidly upstream toward them.

  “Now, Alesia,” Tiago rapped out. And then he was pounding down the path toward the men.

  She cast an anguished look after him, but what could she do? If she stayed, they’d only catch her as well. Better to return to her island and hail one of the sentries. They’d get the whole base out to help him.

  She darted toward the nearest tree large enough to hold her weight. Suddenly, a dark shape loomed in front of her. A big, naked man.

  She shrieked and skidded to a stop, her heart pounding so hard it felt as if it would explode out of her chest. In an instant, the man had an arm locked around her neck and something sharp pressed to her throat.

  His growl raised every hair on her body. “Do exactly what I say,” he gritted against her neck, “or you’re dead.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  As he closed in on the two men, Tiago cursed himself. Damn it, he should’ve been paying more attention. But the Jorge he’d known would’ve been smarter than to turn up this close to Rock Run.

  He caught a whiff of the second man’s scent and realized it was Orius, one of the Greek fada. Good. With Alesia safe, he welcomed the chance to take these bastards out for good.

  Tiago slowed and bunched his muscles, preparing to launch himself at both men.

  “Stop right there.” Jorge flung up a hand, palm out. “Unless you want your woman to die.”

  Tiago froze. His gaze went from Jorge to Orius.

  One sea fada.

  He swung around. Thirty yards upstream, another man had Alesia in a tight hold and was urging her toward them. Tiago recognized him now, too: Mys.

  And he had a knife to Alesia’s throat.

  Tiago’s bowels iced. He snarled lowly, his gaze on the blade pressing to his woman’s soft skin.

  Behind him, Jorge said, “I’ve been looking for you, irmão.”

  Tiago turned sideways and backed away so that Jorge wasn’t directly behind him, but he kept his gaze locked on Alesia and the knife. As she and Mys approached, he saw a thin line of blood welling beneath its sharp edge.

  He clenched his fists, his every instinct clamoring for him to go to her aid. But a wrong move could result in her death.

  He could scent her blood now. Beneath his skin, the beast awoke. A growl tore from his chest and wicked claws sprouted from his fingertips.

  “Let her go,” he said in a voice he barely recognized as his own.

  Alesia stiffened. “Tiago—look out!”

  A stick snapped behind him. He swung toward it, but at the same time an arm wrapped around his neck.

  “Don’t move,” Jorge said in his ear. A knife pricked Tiago just above his right carotid.

  Like hell. He slammed an elbow into Jorge’s ribs.

  Jorge grunted but held on. The movement pressed the blade deeper. Something warm trickled down Tiago’s neck.

  Jorge’s breath was hot against Tiago’s cheek. “I said don’t move. Not a single fucking muscle. I know what you can do, but Okeanos said you need your eyes to do it. So keep your gaze on the ground—or the dryad dies. Understand?”

  Tiago stiffened. The S.O.B. was right. Before he’d realized that using his Gift made the beast more powerful, he’d experimented on various animals, trying to learn what he could and couldn’t do. To compel another to obey him, he needed to be looking at them—and it helped if he issued a verbal command, too. Something about the synergy of voice and eye fueled his ability. Even then, if his target had an exceptionally strong will, like Dion, it could take ten or twenty seconds for the compulsion to kick in.

  Too damn long.

  “Okay,” he told Jorge, keeping his gaze on the ground before Alesia. “But let the woman go. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “Maybe not. But you care what happens to her, sim? That makes her worth keeping.”

  “No, damn you.” Tiago’s gaze snapped up. His muscles tensed and he dragged in a breath. There was no way he’d let these S.O.B.s get ahold of Alesia.

  But both Jorge and Orius were restraining him now while Mys kept the knife to her t
hroat. She gazed at Tiago stoically, eyes big in her shadowed face.

  “It’s all right,” she told him in a strained voice. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Tiago glared at Mys and flexed his claws. This was one of the bastards who’d forced Valeria to take part in their dark games, had helped drug and rape Marjani. He could hardly bear to see the man breathing the same air as Alesia, let alone touching her.

  Beneath Tiago’s skin, the beast writhed, its fury dark, primal. But underneath the anger was terror, that Alesia would be hurt as the other women had been.

  Kill. Now.

  Protect the female.

  Ours.

  The beast was practically bursting out of Tiago’s skin, willing—no, eager—to die if that’s what it took to save Alesia.

  The mate.

  The knowledge slammed into Tiago like a fist to the gut: Alesia was his mate.

  He went hot, then ice-cold. He must’ve gone rigid with shock, because Jorge growled a warning and tightened his grip.

  Tiago ignored him to narrow his eyes at Mys. The rage and fear churning in him like a dark cyclone coalesced, and he and the beast merged in a way they never had before, the beast ceding control to Tiago while adding its own elemental, untamed energy.

  Tiago grabbed that energy and directed it at Mys with everything he had. “Let her go,” he ordered, mouthing the words so that Jorge didn’t hear. “Now.”

  The other man bared his teeth in challenge. Then a look of astonishment spread across his face. His arms opened and he released Alesia.

  Yes. Tiago wasn’t sure if it was him or the beast who hissed the word.

  Alesia stared at him, wide-eyed. Her fear saturated the air, sharp and acrid. He just prayed she wasn’t afraid of him, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

  “Die,” he hissed at Mys, but at that instant a dark cloth descended over his eyes, breaking the compulsion before it could take effect.

  He jerked and tried to tear it off, but Jorge’s knife pressed deeper. “Put your hands down and hold still—now. Or I’ll let Mys have her right here in front of you. Believe me, he wants to.”

  He forced himself to release the cloth. The man meant it. Both his scent and his tone held truth. Tiago could fight, but Jorge’s blade was millimeters from slicing his artery. And if he died, the gods knew what these men would do to Alesia.

  “Try that again,” Jorge growled, “and we’ll take your woman and use her every way known to man, and then drop her in the deepest part of the bay. Compreende?”

  Tiago’s jaw clenched, but he had no choice but to agree. “Yes,” he gritted out.

  The other man made sure the blindfold was tight around Tiago’s eyes, and then they pulled his hands roughly behind his back and bound his wrists together with a leather thong.

  Jorge removed the knife and stepped to one side. Tiago stood proudly, head up, legs braced apart. “You’ve got me now. Let her go. I promise, I won’t fight—”

  The air behind him shifted. He instinctively ducked, but it was too late. He heard Alesia moan, “No,” and then light exploded behind his eyes and everything went black.

  * * *

  The gremlins were hammering on Tiago’s skull again—loud rat-a-tat-tats that reverberated painfully through his brain.

  He swallowed a groan. Gradually, he became aware that he was lying on his side on a damp stone floor, his wrists bound behind his back. For somewhere nearby came the trickle of a stream. His tongue was thick in his mouth. He moistened his lips and tried not to think about water.

  He opened his eyes but everything remained black. His heart gave a hard thump before he remembered he was blindfolded.

  He drew a steadying breath.

  Then he realized he couldn’t scent Alesia and his heart started pounding in earnest. What had those S.O.B.s done with her? He thought of Marjani and his whole body went taut.

  He forced himself to relax and take in what he could of his surroundings. Somehow he knew he was still on the opposite side of the river from Rock Run. The air smelled of damp earth and something oily, like kerosene or another fuel. A cave, then, probably a hideout for Jorge and the other men, far enough from Rock Run to remain undetected, and yet close enough that they could spy on the clan without actually stepping foot onto their territory.

  Footsteps sounded. Jorge, his scent dark and ripe. Feral. His former mentor had finally gone over the edge, or as near as made no difference.

  “You awake?” Jorge asked in Portuguese. He poked a toe into Tiago’s still healing ribs.

  Bastard.

  “Sim.” Tiago struggled up to sitting.

  “Good—now listen. I’m going to take the blindfold off, but if you’re thinking of using your Gift on me, keep in mind we have your woman. If my men don’t hear from me in twenty-four hours, their orders are to use her any way they want—and then kill her.”

  He dares… The beast awoke. He dares threaten the mate, hold us prisoner. Let me out—now. Blood. Kill.

  No, Tiago returned with all the force at his command. First, I have to find out what he’s done with Alesia. Then we’ll attack. But if we kill him now, the others will hurt her. Understand?

  The beast’s only reply was a snarl, but to Tiago’s relief, it subsided. So he hadn’t imagined that moment last night when it had ceded control to him.

  Jorge jerked off the blindfold. Tiago blinked and looked around him. As he’d guessed, he was in a cave, although it was larger than he’d realized—about the size of the entire ground floor of the Baltimore rowhouse Jorge and his men had been using as a den. There were a few rough pieces of furniture and several piles of furs that Tiago assumed were bedding. The only illumination was a small kerosene lamp.

  Jorge stood over him, legs wide and hands fisted on his hips, staring down at Tiago in a clear challenge. Tiago’s hackles rose. He scooted back a couple of feet so that his back was against the wall and he had a better view of Jorge’s face.

  “Eyes down,” the other man snapped.

  Tiago instinctively curled his upper lip. Then he forced himself to drop his gaze as a wave of dizziness washed over him. For Alesia’s sake, he had to placate the man. Besides, he couldn’t do a damn thing right now, injured and tied up as he was.

  “Can I have some water?” he asked, obediently keeping his gaze down. It wasn’t a feint; it must have been four or five hours since his last drink and his mouth felt like it was filled with sand.

  Jorge waited long enough to make a point, then picked up a canteen and walked out of the cave in the direction of the stream. Tiago moistened his lips, wondering if Jorge was really getting water or if this was a subtle form of torture.

  But the other man returned in a few minutes and held to the canteen to Tiago’s mouth. “Here.”

  He took a cautious sniff. It was only water, thank the gods. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to resist drinking even if it weren’t. He swallowed greedily. The liquid slid down his parched throat, ice cold and reviving. He continued drinking until the container was empty.

  Jorge set the canteen on a nearby table and returned to his post before Tiago.

  Tiago risked a glance up at the grizzled, battle-scarred veteran. Jorge was scowling, and even in the dim light Tiago could see he still carried the bruises from their battle two nights ago. In fact, he looked worse than Tiago, since he hadn’t had the benefit of Cleia’s healing energy. Good.

  He probably shouldn’t ask, but he was desperate to know. “The dryad? Where is she?”

  “I told you. With Mys and Orius.”

  His men. Tiago must’ve been half out of it when Jorge had told him before because it hadn’t sunk in. Jorge had left Alesia with the men who’d raped Marjani and who knew how many other women?

  He growled and started to his feet. “The hell she is.”

  Jorge aimed a deliberate kick at his bruised ribs. “Down.”

  Pain flashed through Tiago. The air left his lungs in a whoosh and he froze halfway to standing, afraid even to
breathe. He sank slowly back to his knees and took a tentative inhale. It hurt like hell. But he made himself take another, then another.

  By the time he could think again, Jorge had retied the blindfold around his eyes.

  Tiago wanted to kill the man so bad he could taste it. He surreptiously pulled on the leather thong binding his wrists, but the more he strained against the leather, the tighter it got.

  “If you hurt her,” he said in a low, hard voice, “if you even fucking touch her—you’re dead. All of you. I will hunt you three to the gates of Hades itself.”

  “Then do as I say.”

  Tiago’s jaw tightened. “What the hell is this about, Jorge?”

  “Lord Jorge,” he snapped back. “I’m alpha. My own den.” That’s when Tiago realized that the man was speaking in short, declarative sentences like his animal would.

  “Alpha,” Tiago repeated neutrally.

  “Sim. After Petros died—me next. We get females now. New clan.”

  “Fada that follow Dionysus and the old ways.” Including men who believed women were inferior, good only as sexual toys and for bearing children.

  “When Dion’s father”—Jorge paused, clearly struggling to articulate, and then said in a burst—“banned the bacchas, anyone who disagreed had to suck it up or leave. Petros—he showed us we could break our clan ties. Start new clan.”

  “Hell,” Tiago muttered. The man wasn’t just going feral, he was out of his fucking mind. With only two men left in his den, he had visions of starting a new clan? Unless—“How many of you are there?”

  “Many.”

  But Tiago caught the uncertain tang. So there were just the three of them now—Jorge and the two Greek sea fada. He filed that away for future use.

  “So you broke a sacred promise.”

  Jorge shifted uneasily. “Dion forced us—promise. Not binding.”

  “I was there in the cave that day, remember? Forced or not, speaking your true-names bound you to your promise. I’m not sure how you broke it without making yourselves sick, but—” Tiago halted. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s why you all have the scent of ferals. Your animals can’t take the pressure.”