by Candy Nicks
* * * *
Where was his honour now?
Ancel stared in disgust at the hollow-eyed creature in the bathing room mirror. He couldn't call himself a man after what he'd done to her. Better that she'd let him die in the slave cage than witness him become this beast.
He stepped under the shower and ran the water cold. Life had tested him, or so he'd thought. It had all been too easy. High-born, with a handsome face and a strong body, he'd breezed through his days demolishing every obstacle in turn. Charming the ladies. Holding out for the life he wanted, despite his father's disapproval. Shunning responsibility. He towelled himself dry, uncaring of the bruises covering his body. They were nothing new. He'd known pain. But what was happening in his head, and in his heart—that was new. The thought that he might be fighting a battle he could never win, scared him more than anything ever had.
He drank three glasses of water, wishing he had some Pilar-root for the pounding in his head. Remembered the terrifying moment when he thought he'd fallen from the edge of the world. The drug had turned him into a beast, or merely brought out a beast that already existed. He couldn't decide which. He groaned. Wallowing in self-pity only made it worse.
Wrapping the towel around his hips, he walked into the bedroom. What could he possibly say to make things better? He could find no excuse for his behaviour.
Carine slept on, lost in the depths of the huge bed. Still wearing the tattered remains of the dress.
Did he do that? All he could remember were sensations—the detail escaped him, thankfully. He turned away from her scabbed and swollen lips, the vivid bite-mark on her shoulder, unable to face whatever else he'd done to her. The spots of blood on the sheet reminded him of the way she'd fought him. How he'd held her down and torn through her maidenhead.
He groaned again, louder this time, pressing his hands to his face. Rape? He was beyond contempt, with no right to ask her forgiveness.
No, the symbols crooned. Completion. It needed to be done.
Ancel turned and pulled the coverlet over Carine's shoulders, unable to bear seeing her so vulnerable. And to stop himself from being tempted? The thought made him want to howl out loud. He must rein in this lust before it destroyed them both. Her eyes flickered open.
"I'm sorry,” he said, before she could speak. “I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. It will never happen again."
"Ancel...” Carine pushed herself up, one hand fisted in the sheet covering her breasts. Her brow creased as if she was trying to remember why she hurt so much. She raised her eyes to his.
"Don't make excuses for me,” he warned her. “I knew what I was doing. I could have stopped myself. To my shame, I chose not to."
Carine shook her head. “It was out of your hands. Vin gave you...."
"I said: don't! Don't say I couldn't help myself. I know full well what I'm capable of. I should have been stronger than that. I'm little more than an animal."
"Ancel, you're not an animal. You saved me from Rock. And I thank you for that."
"I'm nothing any more.” He jumped from the bed when she attempted to touch him. Her understanding, no matter how much he wanted it, unnerved him. “I will take more care,” he said. “Exert more control. You have nothing further to fear from me."
"I don't fear you,” she said with more patience than he deserved. “Do you not think that I would have fought harder had I not wanted you as much as you wanted me?"
He snorted. “You're half my size. Look at the state of you. What chance did you have?"
"Believe me,” she said, kneeling, pulling the sheet with her. “Had I not wanted it, you would bear the scars. I was fighting the Bonding, not you. Didn't you say we must resist completion?"
"Oh Gods. What have I done?” The memory of her warm, forgiving mouth made him ache for her. He turned and leaned his forehead against the wall. It hurt just to look at her.
"Nothing that cannot be forgiven. Ancel, don't beat yourself raw over something that was out of your control. Come, hold me and let me make it right with you."
He shook his head. “I don't trust myself. I need distance. I need to atone."
"Very well."
He heard the resignation in her voice, but also the hint of steel that told him this conversation was by no means over. He remained in place while she padded to the bathing-room and closed the door. Clenching his fists, he vowed to stand firm. That his control would be iron. She would never have cause to look at him with frightened eyes again. This, he vowed to everything he held dear.
The sound of running water made him wish he had the courage to join her. To help her wash away the violence and the pain. She accepted compromise; he couldn't see any good in this situation. Other than the fact that he'd been the first, and not Rock. The thought of that creature ripping her open made him grit his teeth and renew his vow. No compromise. He lived by his code or died by it.
The magic whispered to him. Remember how good it was? Have her again; she won't resist this time. Can't you see she wants to make you feel better? Can't you hear the Magic calling you?"
No. He covered his ears and focused. The symbols were too distracting when he needed a clear mind to plan their escape. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Resisting the pull of the Bonding would require effort, but it could be done. And, if they were to survive this, Carine must understand that too.
Chapter 6
Vin coughed, nearly choking with the effort to draw breath. Carine glanced at the shell of a man who stood beside her, his back bent, his breathing laboured. He hid it well under all the make-up and flamboyance, but today, devoid of the face-paint and his wig, he looked one hundred summers old.
"Fifty-four,” he corrected and gave a dry laugh. “I'm the oldest Reader on the planet. And the best. It's why I've lasted this long.” He straightened and clapped his hands together. “Let's get to work. The Mistress is coming over to inspect her investment. Choose some clothes and don't let me down. Take some for big-boy too. I suppose he's in a monumental sulk over what happened yesterday?"
"You could say that.” Carine wandered along the racks, inspecting the clothing without interest. Wishing Vin wouldn't just walk, uninvited, into her mind. The garments were mainly theatrical wear, which wouldn't do at all for trekking across the plains. She chose a dress which showed off her curves but still lent her decency, knowing that if she chose anything more demure, Vin would only make her put it back. For Ancel, she added leather pants and an assortment of shirts and tunics. She had no idea of his foot size. She threw some underwear onto the pile, anxious to get back to him. They'd taken her before she could finish their conversation about the Bonding.
Vin nodded his approval. “You're a survivor. Like me, you'll do what you must to get through. Ancel ... he'd prefer the dying in a blaze of glory approach. I'm counting on you to bring him round."
"You don't look well.” She kept her tone carefully casual. With no idea how much of her mind he could reach, she knew she must tread carefully around Vin.
"You've noticed?"
"How long do you have left?"
Months, years ... Who knows how many days we have left, eh? And no, you couldn't take me. Even dying, I'm stronger than you."
She acknowledged that with a nod, letting go the brief, but very mad thought that this might be a good time to overwhelm him and run. The guards wouldn't be far behind her.
"Brain haemorrhage'll get me, most likely. Everything up here's fried.” Vin tapped his head. “You better hope that it's later rather than sooner. I'm the best you'll meet in this business. Believe it, or not, I do have your interests at heart. Well, some of them, anyway. You and Ancel turn the fortunes of the O around and you'll be well rewarded."
"Sorry,” she said, feigning interest in a see-through tank top. “He'll never co-operate willingly. You must already know that."
"But you can convince him.” It was a statement, not a question.
"I might.” She fingered the lacy fabric. “Aren't
you worried, Vin?"
"About my soul?” He waved his hand dismissively.
"I can sense it, Vin. Not a pretty sight."
"Okay, so you're a Soul-Reader? What of it?"
"Get me a Crystal, and I'll help you. Give you absolution. Are you ready for eternity? The Pit of Eternal Torment?"
"Do I look that stupid? I get you a Crystal, you'll cloak yourself and be gone. Poof!” He clicked his fingers and dug a hand into the pocket of his kimono. “It's not a problem. I'll just get me a Soul Cleansing Stone, or get some other dumb idiot to swap souls with me."
"Soul Cleansing Stone? Who's ever seen one of those? The stories of the Soul Cleansers, they're myths, legends—you know that. And if you did find a stone, who do you know could perform the ritual? Get me a Crystal. My power is real."
"Myths and legends, eh?” Vin shrugged. “Well, seems I'm a lost cause, baby. Had my fun and now I'm ready to pay my dues. As you must to your new Mistress."
"You're a liar.” His casual indifference was far too studied as he opened the small box he'd retrieved and sniffed the contents. Carine kept her gaze steady, unsure of how far he could be pushed. “I'll make a deal with you. You said I could break the Bonding with a Crystal. I want to do that. Ancel will die here, you know it. If I release him, he'll remember how much he hates me, and run."
Vin pointed out a rich-blue tunic emblazoned with gold studs. “It'll go with his eyes."
"He's straight, Vin. As they come."
Vin let out a noisy sigh. “Don't I know it, you lucky cow. All the best ones are—more's the pity. He's stuck on you. Bonding or not, he's hot for you, honey."
She clutched at the tunic to still her trembling hands. “He hates me and all my people. The Magic made him forget, that's all. I'll offer you a straight trade. Ancel's freedom for your sins."
"You'd take my sins into your own soul? Have you any idea what that would mean?"
Give up her place in Paradise? An eternity of torment? “Yes,” she said, quietly. “I know what the consequences are."
"You wouldn't do it. No-one in their right mind would. Not even for someone as hot as he is."
"Look deep,” she said. “You know I would."
For a moment, Vin considered. “Tempting, but I'm not dead yet. Mistress wants her money's-worth. And she's not known for her mild temper. I let Ancel escape, I might end up dead now. Guard. We're ready to go."
A guard appeared at the door and stood obediently, arms extended, while Vin loaded him up with her garments. He walked her back to the cell, while Vin watched them from the door to the wardrobe room.
"Think about it,” she called back to him. “Get me a Crystal and I'll ensure you an eternity it Paradise."
The only response was Vin's high-pitched laughter floating after her.
* * * *
Carine pulled down the remaining towel from the camera. The Mistress wanted to see them, but by proxy. After losing an eye in a scuffle with a rebellious slave, she rarely met her merchandise in person.
"She'll be watching last night's tape, but if you know what's good for you, you'll put on a bit of a show for her,” Vin had warned. “She's sold on the beauty and the beast angle. Let her know she hasn't wasted her credits."
With Ancel in his current mood there was little chance of anything, let alone a show. He'd donned the leather pants. Refused the tunic with a disdainful snort. Laughed outright at the rest of the garments she'd chosen for him and then turned his back to stare out of the window.
At two knocks on the door, they were to begin. Three knocks and they could stop. The Mistress was a busy woman—she didn't like to be kept waiting. Vin's instructions were clear. Put on a good show and reap the rewards. Anger her and, well, her favourite punishment was blinding. Blind people could still fuck. Carine chilled at the thought.
"Would you like something to eat? It smells good."
"I'm not hungry. You go ahead."
"Ancel, you must eat."
"What? Are you my mother now? I said I wasn't hungry."
All without turning from his solitary stance at the window. His bunched back muscles and rigid arms told her how agitated he still was.
She tried a different approach. Filling a plate with some meat and a few odd-looking vegetables, she took it to the window and placed it on the sill. “In case you change your mind,” she said, then added, “you'd be the first to tell me to eat because we need our strength to escape.” She picked up a meaty bone and hopped up to sit on the window-sill. “See?” she said and ripped off a chunk of the flesh. “I'm eating, and so should you be."
It got a reluctant smile from him, which was a start. “Don't scourge yourself,” she said, turning serious. “It was ... mostly ... pleasurable.” Her face reddened at the memory.
Ancel picked up a chunk of meat and inspected it. “Only mostly?"
"Goodness, are all men like this? Would you have me sing a song to your manhood? I will if you wish."
"That won't be necessary."
"I was joking."
"I know.” He ate in silence, but with relish. Hunger overcoming his self reproach. When he'd licked his fingers clean, he asked, “Why did you uncover the camera?"
"No reason. One was already uncovered and...” She shrugged and jumped down from the sill. The tension in the room hadn't dispersed and she could feel his eyes following her as she sauntered into the bathing-room. Once inside, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she turned around, Ancel stood in the doorway, massive arms folded. His beauty mesmerised her. The dips and curves, the contours. She remembered the weight and the power of him. The way he'd held her down.
"They saw? What happened last night?"
"Yes,” she said lowering her gaze. “They saw."
"And they want more?"
Miserably, she nodded.
"Well, fuck them. I'm not playing."
"It's the Mistress,” she said in a rush. “We need to give her something to keep her happy. She rarely comes here. Let her think we're beaten and she will leave us to Vin."
Ancel shook his head and pulled the door closed behind him. “Will she want me to go and service her too? Or perhaps she prefers women. Are you willing to do that? How can you even think of whoring yourself for those decadents? Do you not fear for your eternal soul?"
The strength left her in a rush. Ancel caught her before she hit the marbled floor, holding her secure with an arm around her shoulders. Lowering her carefully, he crouched down beside her. The room tilted, swinging gently back and forth before settling. Ancel's blurred face hovered into view, receded. Carine grabbed at him, desperate to stop herself falling into the Pit of Eternal Torment, which, for a moment, had seemed all too real. The stench of burning flesh, the agonised cries...
"Carine?” Ancel's face, anxious, contrite, came into focus. She groped for his hand, joining the symbols, anchoring herself to the world.
"Forgive me. I was too harsh.” He twisted to sit on the floor beside her, pulling her back into his arms. “Sit awhile and recover your senses."
"No...” She pushed the ghastly images of one possible after-life from her mind. Like Vin, she wouldn't think of the future. She strained to listen for the knocks on the bedroom door. Had they missed them?
"Yes,” Ancel insisted and tightened his hold on her. The symbols hummed. They couldn't be within touching distance without wanting.
"I didn't know your size,” she said touching the soft leather of his pants. “There was little in the way of practical clothing."
"They fit well enough. Are you feeling better?"
"Not really.” No use in denying that she was terrified. For him. For herself. Freedom always came at a price; she'd reconciled to that. Had already let go notions of honour and dignity. She'd been prepared to meet all the challenges of this ordeal—or so she'd thought.
"Then lie still for a moment."
His concern held an edge of detachment. Neither pushing, nor pulling. Giving her a safe space, albeit temporary,
to simply be. She let go and drifted back. Merely a few days separated this life from the one she'd known, yet already the details were fading. The people she'd loved, seen as through a fog, their faces becoming indistinct. She struggled to remember the scent of wet moss and the colours of the sweet aricanthus which bloomed by the lakes. The sound of her mother's voice.
Reality was this hard man at her back, the task ahead. A bleak future, so far from the one she'd always imagined. “Ancel,” she said, pulling herself back to the now. “We must give the Mistress something. You have to understand that."
The tension in his voice shattered the brief moment of peace. “I'm no coward. I will not grovel for my life."
"Then grovel for mine.” Carine wriggled from his embrace and turned to face him. “Look.” She pointed to the small blinking eye in the corner of the room. The lens swivelled and rotated. “They've been watching us all the while. Listening. When they knock on the door, she will be watching. She needs to think her credits have been well spent. You know what they do to renegades?"
Ancel stood, in one fluid motion, leaving her kneeling at his feet. “I'm not afraid of them."
She sighed and reached out to touch his thigh. Felt the muscle flex beneath her fingers. “I know. And that's your problem. No matter, I'm frightened enough for both of us. Please...” He stood before her, like a vast impenetrable fortress, but when she rocked forward to place a kiss where her hand had been, he trembled. His fingers tangled in her hair, tilted her face to him.
"I don't trust myself around you. You have no idea how much I want you."
"I think I do,” she said covering his symbols with hers. “What happened before wasn't your fault. Show me how it could be between us."
