The SAVAGE Series, Books 1-3: The Pearl Savage, The Savage Blood and The Savage Principle

by Blodgett, Tamara Rose

  And he would again.

  He would take his own guard, trailing behind hers in secret. And there would be an unfortunate ambush...one that she would not recover from.

  Who would the pearl kingdom have then?

  It would have him, the Prince thought. Strolling away with the Queen's goblet in his fist, the brilliant blue crystal throwing shards of color as he walked away.

  It speared the carpet, a path of blue blood splashing before him.

  ****

  Clara and Lillian made their careful way to the hot springs, its beaten path anciently etched between great swaths of densely blanketed evergreen trees. Clara breathed deeply of the fragrant air, never able to get enough of it, the headiness a taste upon her tongue. There was nothing for her to match it in her memory, it was unique.

  Lillian watched her and thought how strange it was that she smelled everything. Of course, she had never been outside before. For Clara, every sight, smell and taste was a first. She had been almost reverent of their crude food tonight, asking about every little detail. Lillian decided that she was quite good company. Not at all what a Princess should be.

  They had an old book of fairy tales that talked about royalty like remote creatures that were above everyone. Although Clara had a strikingly delicate beauty, as told in the tales, she was comfortable to be around and not haughty in any way.

  Lillian liked her.

  Lillian was nervous of Matthew following a scarce twenty feet behind them, he had not seemed himself lately. Always quiet and brooding; since the acquisition plans for the Princess, his mood had changed from quiet and brooding to remote and edgy. Joseph and Stephen were sweeping the perimeter of the clan as was typical at this time. She watched Anna as she walked ahead of them. Lillian had invited her but she was so shy she removed herself from the conversation. Lillian sighed, would she ever relax with her? Of course, with a male close by, sometimes just their presence was enough to make her skittish as a colt.

  Lillian glanced behind her and did not see Matthew. Thank goodness, checking all points of possible entry. Let him scout and be out of her sight. Soon enough, she would have to address Clara's status as select. That she did not look forward to.

  Anna stopped ahead of them, the cave entrance to the springs directly ahead.

  She turned, her dark eyes probing around them in the dimness of the twilight. “Where is Matthew?” her eyes danced restlessly.

  Lillian shrugged. “Scouting, I presume.”

  Clara looked where Anna did. Seeing nothing, she went to move forward and Lillian caught her wrist. “Have a care.”

  Clara looked down and saw that the ground had grown soft and a pebbled path veered off to the right, leading down into the murky darkness.

  But for some light! Just as she thought it, Anna pulled a candle from her small reticule and Lillian poured the smallest amount of foul smelling fluid over it. Using a small ignition, Lillian lit the candle. Clara thought, they have no steam to power their lights. The candle illuminated the path in front of them, but vaguely. Little more than enough to keep them from stumbling.

  Finally, after another five minutes of walking, they arrived at a small dark pool. Lazy spirals of steam made a rich vapor in the air, clinging to the surface like departed spirits. A pocket of sky rode the open area where there was no tree cover. The moon, almost full, lit the water and Clara realized she'd been wrong. She could see quite well from where she stood.

  The two women undressed quickly and got in. Lillian gave a satisfied groan of pleasure. “It has been two days since my last bath and I, for one, was in need of it,” she said, flipping suddenly on her back and floating. The moonlight caressed her form. The belly which held the babe with the barest swell.

  “Do get in, Clara,” Lillian said.

  Clara looked about her nervously. “What of Matthew?”

  She did not want to be naked and vulnerable with any male around. The assault upon her by Prince Frederic was still a fresh wound.

  Anna smiled and it took Clara's breath away, she was lovely. But had been so solemn since their first introduction Clara had not known what to think of her. The look of happiness suited her.

  Looking about her once more, she was satisfied. Removing her clothes, she stood naked, the slight breeze refreshingly cool and unique upon her bare skin. This is what the wind felt like. For it could not be seen, only felt.

  Matthew saw the Princess look right at him through the trees and held very still. The other women had already gone into the spring but it was she that made his heart speed, he had not bothered to even glance at the others. She turned her face away and his eyes stole from the top of her head to her feet. She made him ache. He did not know why.

  How he hated her perfection: the perfectly formed body with a waist so small his hands could span it, and her eyes...! The heat that had infused his body when he had brushed her skin to arrest her fall rose up to the surface of him again.

  So this is what a select could do. He would not have it and neither would the Band. He would get rid of her, take her back to the sphere or somewhere else. But as he looked upon her form, the moon making a silhouette of her body the ache grew in intensity and it made him more angry, not less. He would wait until they finished then take her with him.

  No female could make him care again, select or no.

  Clara immersed herself in water that was almost too hot for her flesh. Much of which was tender from the new movement of the horse, sleeping on the ground and she was still sore from the beatings.

  Yet that was fading and she had a glimmer of hope. It shimmered just below the surface of her soul, waiting to solidify.

  Memories of Charles stole over her slowly and her mood turned melancholy.

  “Clara...” Lillian spoke her name softly.

  “Yes?”

  “Because of the way you interacted with Matthew, we know what you are to us.”

  Clara stilled in the water, the fragrant soap Lillian had given her a foamy pile atop her head.

  “The Evil Ones...” The Guardians, Clara corrected mentally, “have a prophesy of sorts. Which speaks of this problem of our people dwindling and then the mingling of a new people. Females that will be our salvation. They will unlock the genetic code for us to begin to live again, have children again.” she touched her belly with reverence.

  “You are one of the select, Clara.”

  Oh my Guardian, Clara thought. Those words were right out of the book that Stella, Clara's great-great grandmother, had kept safe for the royal family. It was no coincidence that the Guardians had called the people they chose for the spheres' the select. But how could they know? These clan-dwellers?

  “And what does this mean for me? For the Band?”

  “Are there others like yourself inside the sphere?” Anna asked, finally entering into the conversation.

  “There are many females and males as well,” Clara said, confused.

  Lillian shook her head. “No, mayhap a relation or someone that is special...?”

  Clara had many relations, much of them very distant. She told that to Lillian who shrugged. “You may make it known during your negotiation on behalf of our president that this is a wonderful possibility.”

  Clara did not think the females of the sphere would be receptive to the savages needing special mates. But she did not say, not wishing to alienate these females who were working toward a fragile friendship.

  Clara relaxed again, using the pause in conversation to rinse off her hair, her breasts tipped to the sky. Wringing the remainder of the water from her hair she sank down into the warm depths, grateful for the heat that stole the chill she had felt from the air.

  Matthew's eyes followed her motions with an abiding hunger.

  “Tell us of the sphere,” Anna said, her timid voice mingling with the sounds of the forest. They were small but so many it was a background symphony of nature, ebbing and flowing in volume.

  Clara closed her eyes and spoke into the dark, “It is
like anyone's life. I work in the fields by day and by night I think on royal things. My duties.”

  Matthew drew closer, trying to catch her words. He wanted to know more as well. He crouched down, listening.

  “The fields?” Anna asked.

  “The oyster fields. They yield succulent meats and gems that we use for trade with other spheres.”

  “How many spheres are there?” Lillian asked.

  “Just nineteen,” Clara replied, thinking again how she would like to visit the sea. Suddenly she remembered Anna was from a sea clan.

  “What of you, Anna? I hear that you hail from a sea clan.”

  Clara waited in the darkness for so long she was planning to repeat her question when Anna finally answered, “Yes, I am from a sea clan. But I do not speak of it.”

  Clara thought before she spoke, intuiting much of what may trouble Anna. “I too, have bad things which await me in the sphere. That is why I was where I was when the Band came upon me and Charles and Prince Frederic,” she whispered.

  Yes, Matthew wondered. Who are Charles and Prince Frederic?

  “Who are they?” Lillian asked, and a fine tremble broke over Clara, sweat beading on her upper lip. Thinking about the attack made her breath quicken and become shallow.

  “What is it? Clara, what is wrong?” Anna asked.

  Matthew stood, what was going on? He scanned the environment, his night vision that of an owl. Seeing no threat, he crouched again.

  Clara reminded herself that the attack was not happening now but she was quaking like a schoolgirl. Prince Frederic was obviously not here.

  She clearly saw the faces of Anna and Lillian staring anxiously at her and felt some explanation was in order. “I was to marry Prince Frederic of the Kingdom of Kentucky. The Queen...”

  “Your mother,” Lillian clarified.

  Clara nodded. “She wished to ally the kingdoms so that they may mutually benefit each other.”

  “What do they have that you need?” Anna asked.

  Nothing, Clara thought.

  “Grapes,” she answered instead. “And we have pearls and oyster meat aplenty. Many of the spheres would do much for our alliance but Queen Ada chose this kingdom.”

  Lillian's eyes narrowed, there was something here that did not quite agree. “If that were so, then why do you escape?”

  Clara said nothing.

  “If this alliance is so critical, why do you leave?” she pressed.

  Anna interrupted, “Grapes for eating?”

  “Yes, and for wine.”

  “Spirits?” Lillian asked.

  “Not exactly, but of a sort,” Clara responded carefully. “He was beating me.” she hung her head.

  Anna floated over to where Clara was and put an arm around her. “He is not here now to hurt you.”

  That Prince who attacked her was to marry her? Matthew could not understand a marriage between the two of them. Could he, in good conscience, return her to the sphere knowing what fate she might have there? He was troubled by what he was hearing. He listened.

  Something tight and horrible loosened in Clara's chest. She almost felt safe.

  “And the Band, they came upon me in the tunnel. Prince Frederic had somehow known I was attempting to break free and intercepted our escape. He tried... to rape me,” Clara whispered.

  Dear Lord, Lillian thought, we have a monster living in the sphere. One that preys on females. That would not be tolerated in the clans. Well that was untrue, judging by Anna's expression. She understood exactly what Clara had been through.

  Anna looked at Clara with sympathy. “I made a narrow escape from a similar event, one that led me here as well. Not all males are as that one.”

  Clara knew that. After all, she had known Charles her whole life and he had been nothing but tender and loving. Their friendship unsullied by violence or rancor.

  Matthew was shocked. He had thought her a spoiled female of high rank that possibly enjoyed violent trysts. But it did not explain the way her face looked before. Was there other violence against her? It made no sense. Why would their Queen allow the abuse of her own kin?

  Clara suddenly felt flushed and wished to be out of the spring, her fingers pruning and her body languid.

  The mood was solemn as they exited the pool. Clara took her time to dry off, the fragrance of the soap heady in her nostrils. Though she was somber in her mood, she found these females brought her happiness. It had been some time since her spirit felt weightless.

  She dressed quickly and, gathering up their towels, and implements, she followed her new friends up the steep path.

  Having lived a life where she was constantly aware of her surroundings she almost missed being taken by Matthew of the Band. But in the end, she was no match for his stealth, reacting a moment too late.

  He claimed her from behind with ease, clamping on to her waist and covering her mouth. She could hear the murmured conversation of Lillian and Anna ahead of her, powerless to alert them as she was taken from the area with swift and deadly precision.

  The guard, Matthew, she thought, for she knew who it was as the fire, that liquid warmth climbed to the surface of her body like banked embers. He had captured her easily and ran with her body slung over his shoulder.

  Clara fought in earnest and he held her tighter against his shoulder, his slow trot never wavering.

  My Guardian, he was strong, he made the Prince look weak. She grew dizzy as the time wore on, his breathing becoming more labored as he tore through bushes, seamlessly navigating a path that she could not see, her head bobbing against his flank.

  Finally, he slowed, then stopped. Roughly grasping her legs, he swung her upright and set her down on her feet with an alarming thud. Lightheaded after being upside down for thirty minutes or more, Clara swayed and fell to her knees.

  Then she retched the supper she had so enjoyed onto the ground before her.

  Matthew tried to not feel anything for the female, remembering that she was to be returned. Or at the very least, out of his clan but he had a physical reaction to her weak retching and dizziness, his gut churning and releasing. It was possible he had treated her too roughly, the constant jarring and subsequent dismount to the ground. He did not know, he had no experience with females except for Margaret.

  That strengthened his resolve, he would not weaken before her.

  Clara looked up at Matthew who gazed down at her coldly and wished she were dead. He had captured her and was taking her, Guardian knows where. All her earlier peace gone on the wind. She wiped a shaky hand against her mouth, throwing spittle away in the ferns at her side. She shook her head, trying to clear it and started to crawl away. She would not go willingly if it killed her.

  He could not believe this female! After all that she had been through she still would try to free herself of him.

  Grimly, Matthew went after her and flipped her over on her back and she cried out, “Please!” she shielded her face. “Do not... do not hurt me.”

  Ignoring the instinctive twist of his gut as her words speared his consciousness, Matthew grabbed her by her wrists and jerked her roughly to her feet. Taking her slender throat in one hand he slammed her against the tree. “We do not need females from the sphere.”

  Fragrant evergreen needles fell on Clara like rain when her back hit the tree... her head swimming in a nauseating fog. She saw his face, the intense blue eyes boring into hers and she said the first thing that came to mind, “Kill me,” she squeezed out of her raw throat. Her vision dimmed to a small point and the edges began to fade to gray.

  Matthew became aware of heat in his hand and saw her eyes start to flutter closed and a feeling of fierce, instinctive protection swelled up inside himself for her... for this female. As much as his intellect battled to assert his will, he could not physically harm her. He gathered her limp body with his free arm, and took his hand gently from her neck, her head falling forward on his chest. He scooped her into his body in a cradle hold, as confused as he had eve
r been in his life.

  An inner turmoil raged within as he made his way to the fence which surrounded his clan, her still body pressed against his chest.

  ****

  Lillian gave a low chuckle at Anna's comment, thrilled that she was so engaged in conversation and turned to look for Clara. Shouldn't she be coming along; what had her lagging behind so?

  She paused and Anna turned, her eyebrow raising was clearly illuminated by the glow of the candle.

  “Clara?” Lillian called. “do not dawdle, we have much yet to discuss.”

  Anna's face changed to worry. “She does not impress one of folly. Was she not right behind us?”

  Yes, she had been.

  The women hurriedly retraced their steps and came upon Clara's reticule and towel, sprawled on the path in a wet heap.

  “Clara!” Lillian screamed.

  “She has been taken!” Anna cried.

  By whom, Lillian thought. Her mind immediately went to Matthew.

  Where was he?

  Anna whipped her head around to look at Lillian. “Where is Matthew?”

  Where indeed?

  The women wasted no time, rushing the entire length back to the clan. They stumbled into the dwelling area and found Stephen and Joseph who stood upon seeing their expressions, their backs to the fire.

  “What is it?” asked Joseph eying Anna over carefully and finding no damage. She shook off his concern immediately, worried only for Clara.

  Both women spoke frantically at the same time and Stephen put a hand up, silencing them.

  Joseph was shocked, he had never heard Anna speak so much.

  Anna looked at Lillian.

  Lillian nodded and told the tale. She mentioned that she suspected Matthew and Stephen's eyes became hooded with anger.

  “It cannot be him, he is Band. He would not harm a female, let alone take one.”

  Joseph shifted uncomfortably, Stephen turned on him, grabbing his large bicep. “What say you?” he said in a low urgent voice.

  “Matthew is friends with no one.” Stephen nodded, releasing him and giving him the gesture with his hand, go on, “even you, who runs with him, fights with him. You but know him a small amount.” and Joseph put his index and thumb together, leaving the barest of spaces between them.