Fighting Lady Jayne

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “Ronen?” Sorin asked, deferring to him.

  “Leave a sign for the others to follow,” Ronen ordered. “We follow the Caniba. Nothing else in this forest is as dangerous.”

  * * * * *

  The night sky didn’t give much light as dark clouds drifted over the moon and stars. Jayne saw peeks of moonlight through the treetops and wished she’d brought her fire with her. But, it was better not to signal any surrounding knights. There was no doubt Ronen chased her. What? Did she hurt his male pride? Embarrass him? Why else would he pursue her so far away from the castle?

  Whenever she felt Ronen invading her mind, she concentrated on blocking him out. For the most part, it worked. Though, the visions did continue—flashes of forest trees and knights, sounds of voices and running feet.

  Darkness and little sleep forced her to find a place to hide for the night. Twice, she almost twisted her ankle because she couldn’t see the ground beneath her. Unable to force herself into a tight corner for fear of what would be lurking there, she rolled beneath an overhang of low branches and spread out on her stomach. She laid the knife at her side within easy reach.

  Tension rolled through her and she closed her eyes, willing her dreams to be filled with shadows and not sexually fueled fantasies of Ronen. She let the exhaustion have her, slipping easily to sleep.

  At first, it was the hands, stirring against her naked body, that drew her from her slumber. His touch pulled her mind to awareness. Understanding what was happening, she knew she didn’t really lie naked, only felt the sensations in her mind as if they were real.

  Jayne fought her budding desires, not wanting to give in, but his touch was like a drug. The more she felt, the more she had to have him. Their connection became real, as if he stood in front of her, their minds joining. She actively pushed him from her thoughts, not wanting to let him into her secrets.

  She tried to peek into his mind, but all she discovered were random thoughts. Soft, sweet, mine…

  Jayne felt his possessiveness of her, his drive to capture her. She would never be his prisoner. Never.

  Even as she thought it, knowing it to be true, she couldn’t resist him. He touched her with such worshiping passion. Palms cupped her breasts, rubbing softly. They ran over her sides, across her hips, down her legs and up her inner thighs. She moaned in torment. How could she resist?

  “Please let me go. I can’t live as a whore,” she whispered. “I wish I’d never met you.”

  She couldn’t see anything, but the darkness only enhanced her other senses. Jayne smelled the freshness of the forest, felt it’s coolness on her shoulders and feet. Beneath her, the hard ground pressed into her sore back, but it didn’t hurt quite as badly as before. Her nerves focused on Ronen’s hands, wanting more of him. He answered her silent plea with his lips, brushing soft kisses over her flesh along the same path his fingers had traveled. Soft breathing washed over her like a gentle breeze.

  The moist heat of his mouth enclosed a nipple, sucking the taut peak. She lifted her hands to touch him, but her limbs were heavy as if paralyzed by her sleepy state. Ronen’s tight stomach pushed at her thighs, urging them to part as he moved over her. He kissed a trail up her neck, stopping close to her lips.

  “Touch me,” he said, so softly she barely heard him. Or maybe he didn’t speak at all, merely directed the thought into her mind.

  Any hint of her resistance left her and she stopped concentrating on blocking him from her. Almost instantly, her vision began to clear and a moonlit face appeared before her. Thick shadows contrasted the strength of his features and the cords of his neck. The low branches pressed over them, cocooning them in.

  Jayne reached for him, grabbing his face to pull his mouth to hers. She gripped him tight, forcing him against her rough kiss. His lips tasted sweet, like fresh water from a spring and she drank thirstily. Her hands acted on their own accord, venturing over the peaks and valleys of his muscles. Restless legs moved along his hips, inviting him to conquer her completely.

  Ronen flexed, surging forward. The turgid length of his cock probed the silken heat of her pussy. For a moment, he paused, letting her muscles adjust around him. He worked his body back and forth, going deep with each pass. It felt so good, she wanted to scream with the pleasure of it. Maybe she did scream, she couldn’t be sure.

  He thrust hard and fast, as if desperate to mark her as his own. Jayne met his passion, silently battling him for control. The enclosure was too tight for her to roll him onto his back. She raked her nails over his back. Tree limbs scratched at her hands, but she didn’t care. Ronen groaned, propelling his body onward.

  Jayne gasped, tensing as she met with release. Her quivering muscles gripped his cock and he soon followed, grunting like a wild animal as he came inside her. The sound of their harsh breath joined in a frantic rhythm.

  Ronen looked deeply into her eyes, his face still a heavy contrast. “I’m coming for you, Lady Jayne.”

  Within a blink, his body was gone, leaving her fully clothed and incredibly sated. She panted, wondering how much of her he’d read. Did he know where she hid? Did he understand what happened between them? Just as she started to calm herself, determined to come up with a new plan, her hair was yanked from above and an unknown hand pulled her from beneath her hiding place. Jayne reached for her knife, barely grabbing it only to have it slide from her fingers to be lost in the darkness.

  He’d found her.

  * * * * *

  Blessed night.

  Ronen shifted on his horse, glad for the cover of darkness to hide the passion he’d just shared with his wife. Spell or not, the woman knew how to sate him. What he didn’t understand was why let him join with her as she tried to escape. Several times he thought of telling Sorin, only to refrain. If it was truly believed she was a witch, Jayne would be tried as such. He didn’t relish the idea of his wife being burnt alive or drowned in a river because of peasant fear. And if it wasn’t a spell but the hopeful madness of his own mind, he didn’t exactly want the lunacy known.

  Automatically, Ronen searched the low branches, remembering the tight fit of Jayne’s body to his in the tight enclosure. Sir Traven and Sir Walter had found the mark Ronen and his brother left near the boar’s carcass and followed their trail into the forest. Walter rode back to get their horses and now they made good time through the trees. The other knights were deployed to look for signs of Lady Jayne around the ledge.

  “Perhaps we should wait for morning light,” Traven suggested. “It’s too hard to find a trail in such darkness.”

  Though sensible, it didn’t mean Ronen liked the advice.

  “You haven’t slept, my lord,” Kar put forth. “Perhaps you should rest. I will look for a trail by foot.”

  How could he sleep knowing she was out there? That the Caniba were out there?

  “No. I ride. Kar, you three rest and look at first light.” Ronen’s order ended all discussion from the men. To his brother, he said, “Make up your own mind, but I cannot stop searching.”

  “You are my blood. I go where you go,” Sorin answered. “I ride with you, Brother.”

  Ronen nodded, having pretty much known Sorin would.

  By the wrath of the gods, I have to find her.

  * * * * *

  Jayne expected to see Ronen as moonlight shone over her attacker, but instead she found a wild, furry beast. Light shone through the uncombed nest of its hair. The creature grunted like an evil gorilla that crawled from the depths of a nightmare.

  Jayne sprung into action, pushing her legs off the ground to kick at the creature’s head. The flat of her foot landed with a hard thud against its neck. Instantly, it let her go. She rolled onto her side, flinching as her back protested the movement. The last kick had irritated the already sore muscles.

  Hands gripped her leg and arm, the clawed nails digging into her flesh. They pulled her across the littered forest, sliding her through leaves and twigs. The debris dug into her stomach, scratching and poking h
er through the long tunic shirt. The grunts got louder as another beast found hold on her bare calf and began pulling her in the opposite direction.

  Jayne didn’t make a sound, even as they lifted her from the ground and the pain surged through her body. They tried to rip her in half. She bit her lip, focusing all her energy on jerking her legs together. The two creatures were thrown into each other, hitting their heads. She fell the few inches down onto the ground. Once free, she pushed up, ready to run. More creatures blocked her path, making her stop short of escape.

  Blood trickled down her leg and ankle. She hopped lightly, trying not to put weight on her injured limb. Jayne studied her attackers, seeing them more clearly from her new vantage point. They stood like men, only covered in fur. What were they? Wolfmen? Some other kind of creature from the stories told to scare children?

  “Back away,” she ordered, keeping a deadly calm to her voice. There were eight in all, counting the men she’d hit on the head who still lay unmoving on the ground.

  “Fighter,” one of the creatures ground out, his voice so gravelly she could barely make out the words. “We will feed her strength to the queen and be rewarded.”

  Jayne scanned the ground for her knife, but didn’t see it. The shadowed figured moved in. She lifted her hands, hopping on one foot as she readied for a death match.

  One of the men leapt, claws extended. Jayne pulled to the side, catching his head. She slammed her injured knee up into his face, hearing a crack. He dropped to the ground. Jayne spun, counting down their numbers in her head.

  Five remain.

  She turned to the side, putting them in front of her. How could she have been caught off guard with the foul stench of them filling her nostrils? The odor was almost unbearable and she tried not to gag.

  Two surged at once, wielding long blades. Jayne swung her arms, but they anticipated her move and she missed. A sword bit into her forearm, slicing deep. She yelped in pain. Though she willed her body to keep fighting, it couldn’t take much more abuse. She grabbed her arm, falling to her knees. She half expected the creatures to converge upon her with swords. Instead, one grabbed her by her hair and jerked her completely to the ground. He dragged her unceremoniously behind him. The others grabbed their fallen comrades and hoisted them up onto their shoulders to carry them from the forest.

  * * * * *

  Somewhere between the banging of Jayne’s head against a log and the blurry vision her of her awakening mind, the smelly men brought her to their encampment. Her entire body itched as it tried to repair itself. The cut on her arm ached terribly, but she knew it would be the first to heal.

  A thick leather collar wrapped her neck and another held her waist, keeping her tight against the pole and making it hard to breathe when she moved. Jayne’s hands were free and she felt behind her head. They’d hooked her to a low pole, her back straight and her legs sprawled out before her. She shivered, almost dreading the fact they’d kept her alive when first they acted as though they’d tear her apart.

  Jayne twisted, trying to discover the source of shuffling feet. She found a pelt-covered man standing with his back to her. Her hands continued to search for an escape, but found no relief from the pole prison.

  Taking a deep breath, she held it, endeavoring to ignore her injuries. The beastly man turned to her, whipping his head about. Sunlight illuminated his gruesome features. Jayne gave a loud inhale of surprise, the noise shrill. Sunken eyes stared at her, filled with hatred and something more she couldn’t name. Then, he smiled, a horrific look that shook her to the bone. Teeth had been filed into sharp points, creating a mouthful of yellowed fangs. Scars lined his face, not like the Starian men, but purposeful scars that ran deep, as if he cut upon himself in a fit of madness. Some had yet to heal.

  Upon seeing her awake, he strode toward her. Jayne tensed, bending her legs. It might break her neck to kick up at him, but she’d rather die fighting than be at this ungodly creature’s mercy. The man laughed, grunting low in the back of his throat, keeping well away from her legs. Coming at her from the side, where she could just see him along the edge of her vision, he grabbed her injured arm and began sniffing at the wound. Metal-tipped fingers dug into her skin, drawing fresh blood. Jayne tried to pull away, but it only caused him to twist it at an awkward angle.

  “Leave her!” another of the men yelled. His right nostril had been sliced off. By the way the sniffer dropped her arm and backed away, she guessed him to be the leader. “She is for the queen. Sorceress Magda will feed on her strength and she will reward us well.”

  “Sorceress Magda,” they all murmured in reverent unison, revealing there to be more of these men out of her eye line.

  Feed?

  Jayne gulped. For the first time since running from Battlewar Castle, she hoped Ronen would catch her. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on connecting to him. Unfortunately, with her injuries, it would be nearly impossible. Her energy would be used to heal herself.

  Bloody fucking misery! I give up. You want me, Ronen, well come and save my ass.

  * * * * *

  Ronen clutched the jeweled knife Jayne had stolen from him, swearing to himself that he’d find the Caniba and rip them of their hearts. He’d found the weapon in the dirt, surrounded by signs of a struggle. The trail had been easy enough to find. They simply followed the drag marks and droplets of blood leading away from the original fray south through the woods.

  It always amazed him that the Caniba could survive as a race for long as they had. They had little by way of tactical skill, not bothering to hide their tracks or plot intricate battles. If not for their leaders, they’d be a mindless army running haphazard across the countryside. Only by killing the leaders would the Caniba tribes fall. Unfortunately, it was not so easily done. The sheer number of the tribe kept anyone from getting too close.

  Ronen lifted his hand, hearing a noise in the distance. The distinctive grunts confirmed his worst fears. His enemy had captured his wife. He listened for signs of her screams, but only met with silence. Closing his eyes, he tried to connect with her as he had before. Nothing.

  Almost desperate, he gripped the reins of his horse. Pain stung him, seizing hold of his heart. He’d only had one night with her before she ran off and it seemed strange that he’d already feel so connected to her. Looking at his brother, he thought of Bianka. Why had the gods cursed the brothers of Firewall? They fought every battle put before them, as had their ancestors. Why take their wives in such a cruel way?

  Ronen refused to analyze the emotions whirling around inside of him, telling himself that it was merely duty and honor that made him feel anything for Jayne. Despite his hopes, he knew that it was unlikely she lived. The Caniba rarely took prisoners and a scouting party would be less likely to, for they would never see the tactical advantage in doing so.

  Ronen grabbed his sword, silently prompting Sorin and Kar to do the same. The others had not caught up with them, but it didn’t matter. The Caniba spies had taken his wife and his honor demanded blood. His rage demanded it. He needed to fight, to kill the ache burning his chest and pounding inside his head.

  Sorin gave him a stiff nod, agreeing to battle. Kar swung off his horse and inched in front of them, disappearing into the forest. Seconds later, a soft chirp sounded, blending in with the forest noise. It pulsed six times indicating six enemies.

  Ronen nudged his steed, ducking under a branch as he surged toward the Caniba encampment. Seeing movement, he rode for the first man he found, hollering to get his attention. The man-creature drew his sword to fight, but Ronen was too enraged to make much sport of it. He sliced the man up the chest, killing him instantly. The others sprung into action, leaping up from their spots on the ground.

  “Ronen!” Sorin yelled, drawing his notice. “Your wife!”

  Ronen stiffened, searching the campground. Sorin pointed at a low pole. Jayne’s back was to him, but he could see her feet kicking at the ground as if she’d push the pole over. It didn’t budge
but she kept trying.

  She lives! He couldn’t believe it.

  “Take her out of here!” Sorin ordered, his desperation to save his sister-by-marriage a mere droplet compared to Ronen’s desire to save his wife. Sorin slashed at an attacker, beheading him. Ronen knew his brother could handle himself and did as he instructed, turning his mount toward the post. Kar appeared from the forest on foot, meeting swords. The clang of metal against metal echoed around them.

  Ronen jumped from his horse, landing with a thud next to Jayne. Her entire body jerked at the sound. His eyes went first to the blood and dirt marring her flesh, searching for injuries. Her body was covered with them.

  Light brown eyes met his. He expected there to be terror in her gaze, or even tears. Instead, she looked incredibly annoyed at having been captured.

  “My lady, did they…?”

  “Took you long enough,” she muttered, struggling anew. “Mind cutting me free?”

  “You wished for me to find you? Is that why you ran? Because of a game?” He frowned. Though the idea gave him hope. Ronen pulled the jeweled knife from his waist and began sawing at the leather straps keeping her to the post. The collar around her neck would have to come later.

  “You really want to discuss this now?” she snapped. “Here?” Jayne reached for his hands to take over freeing herself. He swatted her away.

  Ronen glanced up at the fight. All but one Caniba had fallen. Sorin faced him on foot. Kar stood back, turning in circles as he searched the trees for more.

  “Finally,” Jayne said as she broke free. She pushed the leather band from her waist as she stood, ready to charge into battle. The action came too fast and she swayed on her feet, nearly collapsing on top of him. Ronen stood, catching her. “Let go. I’m fine!”

  “Never,” he growled, forcing her to walk with him as he hurried to his horse. “Get on.”

  “No,” she denied. Though the sound was hard, there was a deep terror in her eyes that he’d never seen before. His wife was a fighter. He already knew that. But now, when she looked at him, it was almost as if he terrified her more than the idea of facing the forest alone. “I will not be told what to do. I can take care of myself.”