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

by Blodgett, Tamara Rose

  Tucker turned to look at her. “I don't think I like the way you say man, Princess.”

  Clara shrugged the shoulder Daniel's palm rested on. “I care not. I followed your command. Now do as you said you would; cease this abusive behavior.”

  “I'm going to enjoy the breaking of you, Princess. Very much,” his jaw clenching as he said it.

  Clara was struck by how much he reminded her of the Prince.

  Daniel saw the plan form in Tucker's eyes and had an inkling of what it might be, having seen him brutalize whatever female he took a liking to.

  That would not be the purpose for Clara he promised himself. Somehow, she would escape that end.

  Clara looked on in despair, her fate and those of her subjects uncertain. She was fast losing hope for The Band as an avenue of assistance. She was at once back in the bowels of her childhood. At the mercy of others, no one her advocate save herself. She trembled as the familiar suffocation of futility and helplessness overwhelmed her.

  Then her gaze was captured by Anna, Sarah and Evelyn. Hope strengthened their expressions with surety.

  They believed in her.

  She straightened, resolve to fight like a rod of steel keeping her rigid.

  Tucker saw her resolve and smiled. She returned his gaze silently.

  She wasn't rising to the bait and Tucker relished the challenge, determining to goad her further. “Bring them forward. I want a closer look at our new breeding stock.”

  “No! This is absurd!” Clara said, almost tearing out of Daniel's grasp. He held her fast, whispering in her ear, “He's playing with you. Don't react. Just stand here. When he can't get a rise out of you, he will stop.”

  “A rise?” she whispered.

  “Elicit your temper?” he guessed at words she would understand.

  “Oh, I understand.” She rolled her lip underneath her teeth and nibbled, preparing herself to witness the degradation of her friends. A thing she was certain would not come easily.

  He approached Evelyn first and she bucked and fought. He grasped her chin and jerked her head to the left and right. His gaze went to her hips and a look of distaste crossed his face. “Too young. We'll have to wait on that one ripening a bit more.”

  Robert stroked her blond head and she was powerless to get away, held as she was by one of the other men. “Not too young boss. Let's take a chance.”

  Tucker deliberated and Clara bent at the waist, retching at her own feet, the thought of those animals touching Evelyn more than she could bear.

  Tucker laughed. “No, we have to save her up for a little while. But I appreciate your enthusiasm. It is worth it to see how it affects the Princess.”

  Clara raised her head, pressing a shaky hand against her mouth as Daniel supported her.

  Tucker stared at Daniel, studying him closely. “You will not have her. Do not think for a second that it's going to happen. She will be put into the pool of breeders like the others.”

  “She is savage. She may breed true and then where are we? We do not need male breeders. Think of the history, Tucker. One throwback and all that the fragment has is threatened.”

  Clara watched the wretched man consider Daniel's words and could not believe they were discussing her this way. Her eyes sought Sarah's, a hand print reddened on her fair skin, her blond hair all about her. Clara's eyes skipped to Anna's great chocolate orbs as saucers in her face, the male that held her cautiously sniffing at her neck.

  Clara exactly understood her panic.

  Tucker moved from Evelyn and made his way to Anna, who had begun to breathe in ragged gasps, no doubt thinking of the male that had abused her almost two years ago. The memories floated in her expression like dust motes in the air.

  “This one is already terrified. Why is that, Clara?” He turned his attention to her. Clara feigned as much indifference as she could muster.

  “I know not. It may be your foulness,” she said with thinly veiled contempt.

  Tucker smiled and swung his gaze to Robert. “Get her companion. Now!”

  Clara looked around and noticed something she had not before:

  Charles was not in attendance.

  Robert and another of the fragment dragged out the lifeless body of Charles and the breath stilled in Clara's throat.

  Charles!

  This time she did tear free of Daniel and ran to Charles, almost falling over the hem of her skirt in her haste. She dropped to her knees and the men left him there for her inspection while Tucker circled her like a shark.

  Oh no, Clara mourned. Have they killed Charles?

  Ignoring everything around her she pressed her ear to his chest, the only spot that had no blood and listened for his heartbeat.

  At first, there was nothing and a pit of grief, the likes of which she had not experienced since her father's passing, choked her. Then, very faintly, she detected a thready pulse, a slight rise to the chest.

  She looked around for a place to touch him that was unharmed and settled for moving the hair away from his face, his nose broken.

  Twice.

  She stood so suddenly that Tucker took a step back. Then realizing how it looked, he stepped forward again.

  Clara could think of nothing else but hurting him. Oh...how she wished for the physical menace of the Band in that moment.

  Instead she took her finger and jabbed it into his chest. “You will pay for what you have done here this day. I swear it.”

  Tucker looked at her for a moment then threw his head back, howling laughter.

  Clara longed for his death.

  When he finally gained a measure of control he said, “You're not in any position to negotiate terms of conduct, Princess. You're a unique breeder, no more. But I'd have to concede that severe discipline will have to wait until we gain control of your sphere. However much the Prince and I share the same inclinations.”

  Clara knew that which he implied and was sickened beyond words. Although she admitted that there was not a grain of surprise. If he were willing, as much of the fragment appeared to be, to degrade human beings in all the various forms, he would be willing to do anything unspeakable.

  Prince Frederic chose that moment to make an appearance. He put a casual foot atop Charles' chest. That one action caused a fissure of rage to explode within Clara and she felt it as an integral shift within her. One moment she was standing in front of Tucker and the next her foot had connected with Frederic's groin and he slumped onto the ground, holding his nether regions in a most satisfying way.

  Daniel picked her up from behind and got her away from him as Jabez came at her on a run and too late she realized incapacitating the Prince did not stop retribution.

  Daniel put her behind him. Jabez moved around him to get to Clara and with a sweeping motion to his left he threw a leg out as he wrapped Clara's right wrist, jerking her to his side as Jabez flew to his left to land on the patch of grass behind them.

  He rolled and sprang to his feet, his eyes flicking to the six-inch blade that lay naked in Daniel's hand.

  “No,” he intoned quietly to Jabez.

  “You have heard your leader. She is nothing but a breeder,” he spat as he looked at Clara. “She will be a whore for the fragment soon enough. A perfect end for her. She was never good enough for my Prince in any event.”

  Prince Frederic moaned in the background and Clara smiled. He could ascribe whatever name to her and still she would remain who she was.

  Jabez's face darkened as he noticed her disregard of his low esteem.

  Tucker laughed again. “Not that this isn't amusing but we have other things to attend to.” His look took Clara in, starting at her feet and rising to her head. Clara tried in vain not to blush but the blatant appraisal was immodest at best, perverted at worst.

  It was definitely the latter.

  Tucker's eyes flitted to Daniel, giving him a mock salute. “Sharp moves there, Daniel. Remember she is yours to coddle until we reach the sphere. That does not mean that there may
not be sport to be had.”

  Daniel frowned.

  “She is not to be marked where the eye can travel,” Tucker elaborated.

  A horrible sense of déjà vu overcame Clara at his words. Memories surfacing of how careful Queen Ada had been to keep interested subjects uninformed about the abuse of her daughter.

  Supposed daughter.

  Tucker studied her. “Hit a nerve, Princess?”

  She did not understand the talk of one's nerves but the gist was clear and she viciously locked down her expression. The less this excuse of a man knew about her, the better.

  Daniel broke the awkward moment, “Let's get them under guard and work at setting up camp.”

  Tucker tore his gaze away from Clara. One thing he was sure of: she was a problem. He'd already wasted too much time dealing with her. He was not happy with the concern that Daniel displayed. It was a complication he didn't need with one of his best men.

  That was fine. Tonight he would get all the assistance he needed from that self-absorbed Prince. Tucker looked at him, struggling to stand even with the help of his first guard. Maybe he wouldn't be able to dominate the Princess. Whatever, Tucker gave an internal shrug. There were many willing men who would enjoy proving to the Princess just who was in charge of this little group. He smiled at his internal framework. It always made perfect sense to him.

  Clara watched him thinking and was deeply disquieted to see the expressions wash over his face, changing like an uncertain tide of misery.

  She steeled herself mentally, she would be on her guard. She counted nothing of the tenuous friendship that Daniel had offered her. It may be an olive branch that was still attached to a tree.

  A twisted tree which rotted from the inside out.

  CHAPTER 10

  Anna, Sarah and Clara spoke in muted tones, the two guards standing a distance of perhaps two horse lengths away. Too close to speak loudly, Clara was mindful of the pitch of her words. “I am sorry that you suffered his abuse. I feel it is my fault.”

  Sarah's brows shot down above her eyes in a stern frown, the swelling at her cheek a grotesque mar upon her ethereal beauty. “Do not. That man needed no excuse to strike a woman. He is of that ilk.”

  No one said the words, as Prince Frederic is. It hung in the air, unsaid and understood.

  Clara closed her eyes and held the fragile emotions that swam beneath the surface, ready to bubble over and make her a sodden mess. It would not assist them in their escape.

  She opened them and both women were looking at her for direction. She was the reluctant leader. Clara thought of what Father, the king, had once told her about leadership, about being Queen.

  *

  Father chucked at her with his finger as it lay beneath her chin.

  “I wish to be a Queen someday,” Clara had said as she and her father floated in the pungy together. The waters of the oyster field lapped gently at the sides, adding to the endless fade of the pink and green of their boat.

  “A noble goal, my daughter,” Father paused, then added, “let us pose the question, what is your reason to be Queen?”

  Clara opened her mouth to give the quickest response which sprung to her mind that had known but eight years.

  King Raymond held up a finger to silence her. “Think on your answer. It may not be that which is foremost on your heart but something deeper.”

  He looked at Clara thoughtfully. “It is as the onion,” he clarified.

  Clara scrunched up her nose in puzzlement. Onions were decidedly foul, she thought with confidence. They had a distasteful texture which squished unpleasantly during consumption.

  King Raymond saw Clara's expression and laughed out loud. “You misunderstand, Clara-girl. You have seen Billy peel the onion?” He cocked an eyebrow.

  Clara nodded. She spent a great deal of time with Billy, who never scolded her for wearing breeches about the Royal Manse.

  “Pretend that to be Queen you are as an onion. That the top layer is your attire and royal accoutrement. Then each layer thereafter is but another until the core...” he raised his eyebrow in question, hoping that Clara would supply the correct answer.

  Clara's mind sailed from one thing to another. What could Father wish for her to say? She thought of her mother's beautiful royal attire and crown. Although beautiful, how did it make the kingdom fare well? She puzzled as she pushed her small face into her palm.

  Finally, she thought she may know the answer. She did not wish to disappoint Father. Yet, she knew of his patience.

  She made her decision. “We think of our people first.”

  A broad grin spread across King Raymond's face and he ruffled her hair. “That is very good Clara. Royalty is but an onion. It can look whole and good on its exterior, but the core may be rotting. See that your core is whole and fresh, the first layer matters not.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  He looked at her for another moment, his face flushing slightly and Clara thought he looked like he was fighting tears.

  Men never cried; Clara knew this.

  Nevertheless, in a voice which broke, Father said, “You will make a fine Queen, my daughter.”

  She smiled and King Raymond's heart swelled with love for this slip of a girl, so pure of heart.

  *

  “Clara?” Anna asked, breaking the tether of her memories.

  “You were one hundred spheres away!” Sarah quietly laughed.

  Evelyn rolled her eyes at Sarah and corrected, “There are not one hundred spheres, Sarah.”

  Clara smiled, so literal.

  “It is but an expression, tart,” Sarah said.

  Evelyn huffed but remained silent.

  Clara was bolstered, if they could quarrel with humor, all was not lost.

  Clara gave a surreptitious glance at the guards who were not worried about three females and a young girl.

  Excellent.

  “I believe there is hope. The Band did not come to our aid for a reason.”

  “Clara, could it be that there are forty members of this contingent?” Sarah asked as if she were daft.

  Clara looked severely at Sarah. “That is exactly my thought. Now, did any of you see which of the Royal Guard was...”

  “Killed?” Anna said gravely.

  Clara nodded.

  “All except Clarence,” Sarah said, her bravado hanging by a thread.

  They grew silent at the scope of Clarence as the only surviving member of the guard.

  “What of your friend, will he...” Evelyn began, biting her bottom lip, thinking already that she should not have brought attention to the merciless beating Charles had received.

  Clara's shoulders slumped. She felt each person's mistreatment acutely. She could not disengage the feeling that somehow this Tucker was making every lash a vicarious abuse against her personally.

  Using her people to needle her. Breaking her mentally.

  In preparation for what? Clara thought uneasily.

  Sarah articulated her thoughts, “He beat Charles for a reason. What that reason is, I dare say it cannot be good.”

  Clara shook her head. “It matters not. The time is at hand, the Band will come for us.” Her eyes searched the women's faces. “We must survive until they arrive. I know their mettle. They will protect us. No matter how far, no matter the cost.”

  Anna's head hung low on her breastbone. “What say you?” Clara asked softly, seeing the desolate expression on her countenance.

  She lifted her face to Clara's and tears lay like bulbous diamonds, falling not. “What if they have been...”

  “Killed,” Evelyn interjected bravely.

  “They have not,” Clara said, laying her fist against her bosom. “I would feel it.” She looked at Anna until she swallowed taking a shaky inhale then finally nodding acquiescence.

  “Be ready. Be alert. They will come if there is breath in their bodies,” she said.

  ****

  Bracus and Matthew watched the women huddled together in heat
ed conversation, as two guards of the fragment flanked their position.

  Philip let out a growl, “I see that someone has laid a hand on Sarah.” His expression became as dark as the thunder clouds that roiled above their heads.

  The weather change was not lost on Bracus. He swore, berating the ill fortune of inclement weather making the rescue that much more challenging.

  Joseph said, “My brother, do not rage, it is to our advantage. The fragment lay about, complacent in their numbers. They do not hold the constitution of the Band.”

  Bracus' look was steady on Joseph's face. “'Tis true, however, we are but four.”

  The statement hung in the humid air, heavy on their tongues, a sour reality none would swallow.

  Clarence pushed forward, grasping a strange contraption strapped to his head with odd spectacle attachments on the top. He pushed between the warriors and clicking the lenses in place, leather straps binding about his head in a tight circle, he gazed out to where the women were.

  Philip tapped the strange device. “What is this?”

  Clarence smiled. Mayhap the Band were nearly indestructible physically and battle ready, but the sphere-dwellers were intellectually superior, he thought with more than a touch of smugness.

  “It is something by which to see long distances,” he replied.

  Matthew rushed forward and Clarence flinched. “Let me use this device.”

  “And why, pray tell do you need to? When your introduction has only just been at this moment?” Matthew looked at Clarence and reminded himself that he was a man of honor, even though he made a point of educating the Band on how soft they were in the head.

  Bracus clapped Clarence on the shoulder and he jumped, stifling a yelp. “It is a magnifier of sorts, yes?”

  Clarence gave a numb nod, trying to calm his speeding heart.

  “Matthew has some unusual skills from his time with the fragment.”

  Clarence swung his head toward Matthew. But for his interest in Queen Clara, Clarence had not given the man a moment's forethought.