by Alice Wade
“Good, because I’m starving.”
* * * *
Dace pushed a few stands of her curly hair off her face, watching the effects of their lovemaking spread across her face. He loved her. Painfully so. She walked into his empty life, filling the void left behind after his parents were murdered all those years ago by vampires. For some reason she’d stayed, fought to win his heart and claimed his bed. Dace was addicted.
Lainey felt his evaluation and turned. She could tell by the slight pinch around his eyes something was bothering him. “I thought this would calm you. Shall I to do more to reward you for your success?” she teased.
His face immediately softened, smoothing the lines around his eyes. “No, you are rewarding me enough, Lainey. This,” he leaned down and hesitated before he touched his lips to hers, “is reward enough.” His kiss was slow at first; a tentative pressure caressed her lips before he felt their dueling tongues and moaned. He moved closer to her on the bed, forcing her back to lay the mattress, giving into his need.
Dace released her mouth and looked at her again. “I love you.” The never-before-said words were whispered with such passion that Lainey felt her insides melt. “You made me the happiest man when you walked into this group a year ago.”
He watched her with an odd expression on his face. Lainey pulled away, pinched her brow and asked, “Are you all right?”
She stared at him closely and drank in his naked body stretched out on hers. She loved him too. Every inch from his broad chest and narrow waist, both riddled with muscles from his previous life. She loved his strong arms and craved them wrapped around her. And his face…his boyishly handsome face which was haloed by a shaggy mop of dark hair, which always fell into his eyes like it did now. She found him utterly gorgeous and that was the main reason why she couldn’t leave a year ago once she set eyes on him. She stayed for Dace alone.
“Yes. I…” He paused then looked at her again, intense emotion darkening his eyes. “I love you, Lainey. I didn’t think I would be happier in life as I was when you agreed to live with me, but what I’m about to ask is either to going add to my joy or make me terribly sad.”
Now Lainey was concerned. What was Dace up to? Leaning on her elbows she raised her upper body and evaluated him closely. He was nervous, not a sight often seen. “Just say it. You’re starting to scare me.”
He moved. For someone who used to be a blacksmith, he was strangely elegant and graceful as he twisted off the bed and moved to the box that served as their dresser. In one swipe, he grabbed an item and returned where he stretched out long against her naked and warm body.
Dace uncharacteristically cleared his throat a few times before he was able to find his voice. He rarely got nervous. He rarely showed this much vulnerability and it was starting to scare her again.
“Lainey.” He met her eyes and held them. “You would make me the happiest man alive if you agreed to be my wife. Will you marry me?” In his out-stretched hand, he held a diamond ring, modest, elegant, and simple.
She said the first thing that came to mind, and it wasn’t yes. “Where did you get that?”
He laughed at her, knowing her practical side would dominate. “I took this a few nights ago from that duchess I robbed. She had ten of these lying in a box, all of different sizes. So, I took one that I felt resembled you the most.” He continued to watch her with one eyebrow raised. Expectant.
Lainey took the ring and rolled it between her fingers. Her emotions a turbulent sea while she caressed this ultimate symbol of love. What he had stolen was flawless. It was a modest princess cut diamond that caught the torchlight and reflected a prism of light back at her. There was no fancywork on the band; it was just a diamond setting and nothing else. It was perfect, and he meant it for her. He wanted to be her husband. No one else. He wanted no one else. “Yes.”
Tilting his head to the side, he kissed her tenderly. Lainey fought to take control but he wouldn’t give in. She softened slightly but wouldn’t submit completely. He pulled back just enough to speak. “When will you stop fighting me?” he mumbled through his attack on her emotions. “Give in, Lainey.
“I can’t,” came her breathless reply.
“We’ll see.” He didn’t let her breathe for quite some time before he leaned back and placed the ring on her finger. When he did, he kissed it before he looked again into her eyes and brushed his lips on hers, deepening the caress into one more passionate. She didn’t. Surprisingly, she didn’t fight the placement of such a controlling symbol. That ring meant she belonged to him now, and he had never felt such overwhelming gratitude that she didn’t resist.
“Thank you.” She was his, and she would be his forever. “I love you.”
Dazed, she was finally able to open her eyes. “I love you too.”
“You better.” He swatted at her but ended up capturing the ringed hand. He planted a kiss on the ring one last time. “I hate sharing.”
* * * *
“Ondre!” Princess Deandra stormed towards her brother’s chamber, angrier than she had been in years, sending servants and guards scattering upon sight. “Brother!” She pushed past the guards and slammed into his private chamber, only to find him sitting peacefully by the fire reading a book. She looked around the main sitting room and noticed the door to his bedchamber open, with servants turning down the bed. In another open door, she saw the remnants of his evening cocktail sitting on the desk in his chamber. The fact that he was obviously normal infuriated her instantly.
“What is it? Did you need another necklace?” His head lifted in feigned interest.
She felt her lips form the traditional pout she normally put on when she wanted her brother to give her something, and then recalled her reason for being here. “Someone was in my chamber. The guards just left.” A look of disgust passed over her, thwarting her normally beautiful features. “They took my things!” She sputtered and stalked around his chamber, unable to relax. Never before had she felt so violated, so breached—her things taken. She was mad.
“Oh, calm down.” He looked at the guard still hovering by the door. “Get the Captain.”
King Ondre wasn’t a pleasant man. Most came to fear him over the past three years as his insatiable desire surrounding pain and torture became common knowledge. People disappeared often and those close enough figure out what was happening spread the word. Most knew of his torture fascination and avoided getting on the wrong side of their weasily looking king. Being called to his chamber wasn’t something anyone relished.
He watched the guard move away to collect the captain and returned his evaluation of his stunning sister. Ondre always marveled at their differences, for he was the exact opposite of Deandra. She was beauty; he was homely. His beady, dark eyes and thinning hair helped to complete the comparison to the vermin along with sharp angular features making his face pointy and harsh. He didn’t disagree with the jesting comments about the animal he resembled, but he did hate his sister for her beauty. She was tall, lean and incredibly beautiful with her brilliant blue eyes. She knew it too because she habitually brushed her waist length blonde hair off her shoulder—thinking it alluring. Ondre snorted in annoyance. Let her have her beauty. He held what she dearly wanted—power. She needed to remember that.
“Oh, do calm down. Have some tea and relax.” He returned to his book, trying to control his own anger, first at his sister’s interruption, and secondly that someone got past his guards and entered his palace. That was unforgivable and his captain would have to answer for a few things this night.
* * * *
Captain Bryson had just finished with his briefing with the guards to find the intruder and search the castle when the message arrived to attend the king immediately. His stomach cramped at the thought, knowing this wouldn’t end well for him. He looked one last time around the room before he stalked towards his death. The
pity-filled eyes of his men met his before he nodded twice, leaving them behind to fend for themselves once his replacement took over.
He ran through his answers in his head as he walked purposefully towards the king’s room, praying to Vasila for guidance and protection. His liege was unforgiving of late, mostly since the arrival of the Dûr Falas three years back. Ever since, things had gone terribly wrong. Prior, King Ondre was a snide man, unlikable but fair. Captain Bryson respected him for a leader, but now, well, he was evil. The Dûr Falas only fed that transformation into this more sinister and uncaring man they now had to deal with. Now Bryson feared him.
Bryson laughed to himself. No answer he produced tonight would save him. He swallowed his fear and regret. Then entered the chamber, taking in the stalking princess and the deathly calm king by the fire with one last sigh.
“Ah, Captain Bryson,” King Ondre said as the man entered the room. “What is this I hear that we had a visitor this night?” His voice was calm, smooth and laced with dangerous intent. He didn’t raise his eyes from his book. Bryson flinched but only momentarily.
“About twenty minutes ago, sir. One man entered Princess Deandra’s chamber and removed valuables, sir.”
“Why was I not notified?” He looked up then, meeting the captain’s feverish eyes with a threat. “I don’t enjoy hearing such occurrences from my sister, Captain.”
“I’m sorry, my liege,” Bryson managed not to fidget or flinch when he returned the dangerous stare. “I just received the final report from the palace guards who chased the perpetrator down. I was just about to attend you, sir, when your invitation arrived.” He was concerned his fear was showing. He tried harder to speak with the confidence that he currently lacked.
“Pity, you didn’t think to send a messenger earlier.” Ondre returned to his book. “Report.”
Bryson withered inside. He knew what would follow his report. He would be sent to the dungeons with his life forfeit. “He got away, my liege.”
“Really. How did they get in, I wonder? Wasn’t it you who stated that our walls are secure? That we were safe within our own home with your expertly trained guards?” His dark eyes glinted with malice. “Wasn’t it you who said we had nothing to fear, good Captain?”
“My liege, he didn’t enter through conventional means.” Against his will, his voice trembled.
“Oh? Pray tell, how did they get in?” King Ondre closed this book, using his finger to mark his place. Ondre waited patiently for the Captain’s reply, watching him with cold, calculating eyes.
“We are unsure, your Highness. My men are still searching.” Captain Bryson read his liege’s displeasure clearly. His life was definitely forfeit.
“You are unsure. Did I hear you correctly?” Bryson nodded. “Unacceptable.” He snapped his fingers and another man appeared. “Escort Captain Bryson below where he will remain until the leader of the Dûr Falas can deal with this. I’m sure Kaen’s men will discover the breach and the man who dared enter my home without invitation.” Ondre knew this man would never leave his dungeon alive and smiled in anticipation. He had a few more techniques to try out and was waiting for the right man to experiment on. The fear irradiating from Bryson’s eyes gave Ondre pleasure and he purred, “I’ll attend you myself shortly, Captain. Go get comfortable.”
Bryson was led away, Deandra sulked, and Ondre returned to his book. “You are dismissed, Deandra,” Ondre said quietly, annoyed that she remained.
“But what of my things, Ondre?” Now wasn’t the time to give into her brother. She could be very petulant at times and knew it.
“Replace them. Just go.”
Her smirk said it all. She only cared that her items would be replaced, rather than the fact she was robbed this night. With satisfaction, she stalked from the room, calling out orders to the servant at her heels to bring the jeweler to her quarters immediately.
* * * *
The two men who escorted Captain Bryson to his cell were powerless to stop what was to come. They respected the Captain, were trained by him personally, and the fact they escorted him to his death was horrific. Neither of them could meet his eye while he was walked deeper into the dungeon. They left him in the dank cell and quickly turned their backs to him after the metal lock was thrown. One of the men paused. “I’m sorry for this, Captain. We’ll do all that we can to find the breach and get you released, sir.” Then he was gone.
Bryson’s whispered response, “No, you won’t, ” was missed as their backs disappeared in the dark hallway leaving him alone in the cell to think.
His wife Calli would be devastated. His four children destroyed. They had prepared for this moment, and hopefully Calli would see through her grief to do what was needed to fight to keep their family together. She was on her own now and he said a silent prayer for their safety.
Kaen, the leader of the Dûr Falas held a trusted ear of the king. This man misled Bryson’s liege down many dark paths. Ondre obviously had inclinations to go there, so Kaen had little to do in order to persuade their lord to fall from grace.
* * * *
A heavy beating rhythm woke her from her sleep. It pounded in her head and made her temples ache as the sound got closer and became painfully loud. A heartbeat. A nervous, scared heartbeat. And it came closer, pulling her from her slumber. Cracking an eye, she took in the defeated form of a man as he was led into the cell.
“What did you do?” A small, feeble female voice said out of the darkness. Bryson turned to locate the owner of the voice and found a tiny woman, huddled in her shredded garments in the next cell. She was wrapped in her ragged clothing with her face concealed.
Bars separated the cells, but she leaned against the metal barrier in an attempt to find a spot to rest. He wasn’t completely positive, but it appeared the woman sniffed deeply before she returned to her evaluation of him.
“That’s my business to know,” he snapped. She raised her head in response to his tone, catching Bryson by surprise. She was beautiful but so thin her cheeks were shallow. Dark circles ringed her strangely silver eyes and the despair that boiled in the depths of her orbs shocked him. He saw her clothing more clearly now. Remnants of a wealthy dress draped over her thin frame gave a ghostly impression of a fine lady. The bodice was embroidered with gold thread and the crystal bead work that remained clearly announced her status. It was so dirty now that Bryson wasn’t able to distinguish the original color. He suddenly had an overwhelming feeling of pity for her.
“How long have you been here, Miss?” Bryson suddenly felt compelled to approach her, bending down to look more closely into her wasted face.
“Too long,” she tried to smile but failed. “Maybe two weeks.”
“What did you do?” he knew he should not converse with these criminals, but then again, he was one of them now.
“Don’t know. I was sleeping one night when they came and broke down my door. Took me away without telling me what I did. I’ve been here ever since.” She lied, but she wasn’t about to tell this man the truth. She wasn’t about to confess she’d been trapped while tracking one of Kaen’s men.
“What’s your name?” he asked and moved closer, sinking to the ground on the other side of the bars.
“Kailani.”
Pretty name, he thought. It was an uncommon name, but pretty none the less.
“What did you do before this, Miss?” Now he was curious.
“I’m a visitor to your city, nothing more.”
King Ondre threw a visitor in the dungeon? Bryson tried to remember this, because his men would have been the ones to collect her. He recalled nothing. Was Ondre sending out men without his notice? A growl vibrated his chest. “Was it the King’s Guard who brought you in, Kailani?”
“No.” Her head fell against the bars, “It wasn’t. It was the Dûr Falas.”
Kailani
felt this man’s blood racing through his veins, pumping in and out of his rapidly beating heart. It was so near, so close. This was the first time they had allowed a human near her since locking her up, and she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to gain some of her depleted strength back.
Kailani smiled to herself. If she were stronger, she probably would have laughed to see the shock on this man’s face, but at the moment she was just too wasted. She needed nourishment.
“What’s your name? Who are you?” she asked, appearing happy to have someone to talk to.
“Bryson and I’m the Captain of the Guard. Or was that is.” Bryson laid his head back and allowed his breath to escape his body in a loud exhale. “I don’t recall your arrest, my lady. Have you been harmed down here?”
She couldn’t stop the sob in response to his question drawing attention to her wet face. “Yes.” They had hurt her for entertainment and kept her alive to draw in her mate.
Anger, hate, disgust, revolt—all rolled through him from that one word. She was an innocent woman for Vasila’s sake! What on Earth could she have done to deserve this? “Who?”
“A man named Kaen. He comes in the night, and they take me to a room down the hall. There he…” she paused and another sound close to a moan escaped her lips, “there he does things to me.”
Bryson growled. He knew Kaen well. “How often?”
“Often enough. But he hasn’t been for me in a few days, so I’ve had some peace.”
Bryson was close enough to touch Kailani and did so, first stroking her face in a tender display, brushing her matted chestnut hair away from her strange silver eyes. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her tiny form through the bars; he had nothing else to give in comfort. His mind was clouded with his own situation, and this act of comforting a stranger in a cell didn’t register as out of the ordinary. He just felt compelled to take her in his arms, which he did.
