Dark Heat

by Leigh Wyndfield

  He smiled, a feral show of teeth.

  His evil grin broke something inside her, goading her into a panicked dash, like a baby bunny before a rabid wolf. She ran from him, without thought, without planning, just an instinctive sprint for her life away from the thing which terrified her.

  Fast as her shaking legs could take her, bounding over the uneven ground, pumping her arms for more speed.

  She realized immediately she'd made a mistake but didn't stop. Couldn't now. Men who hadn't yet seen her swarmed in pursuit, her flight drawing their notice. Worse, she was in their territory, completely lost in the murky gloom.

  She'd heard whispers when she was a child of drop offs where a prisoner would fall forever. One glance over her shoulder had her wishing for death. She had a trail of fifteen men behind her, their faces twisted in the dim light.

  Run Caelan. Run. Falling down a pit forever would be better than what they have in store for you.

  She rounded a corner at a speed she'd never achieved in her life.

  And ran straight into a dead end.

  Spinning to face her death, she backed into the wall, only the sound of her own harsh breathing filling her ears.

  It was darker here, the air a gray sludge, the room filled with frightening shadows.

  The men formed a half circle but for some reason held off from bringing her down. She had no idea why they hesitated but tried to calm her chugging breath enough to think.

  "Come here, girlie,” Rolf coaxed in a parody of a gentle singsong. “I promise you'd rather be with us than him."

  Him who, she wondered, inching along the wall to put a large rock between them. It wouldn't give her much protection, but she was out of options. Fight for once, Caelan. If you're going to die anyway, die with blood on your hands and a snarl on your lips. What has being the peacemaker ever bought you anyway?

  "There he is,” someone hissed and as one, the group shifted back a step.

  Caelan tried to figure out who they were talking about, but she was alone on this side of the cavern. She had to put herself behind the slight safety of the waist high rock. The wall dipped behind it, folding in on itself, giving her a place where she'd be surrounded by stone on three sides.

  Sliding into the crevice, she kept herself facing the men, feeling for the wall behind her with her hand.

  Except she didn't feel a wall anymore. She felt the strong planes of a man's tight, flat stomach. He towered over her, his body a massive presence, making the man who looked like a troll earlier seem small now. Whoever stood at her back was a giant among men, certainly much bigger than her own five feet, three inches.

  A strange premonition blew through her, a tingling running along her skin, her breath hitching in her throat.

  Once, when she was a small child, the cook had told her a story about a young man who made a deal with an evil spirit to save himself from death.

  Caelan knew in that moment that she'd only live to see tomorrow if she could convince the giant at her back to save her. Her pursuers were clearly scared of him. He might end up being a monster, but there was only one of him and fifteen of them.

  But what could she use to pay for his protection? She only had her healing skills and her body to offer, and she doubted he was injured. Well, she'd been married, her arranged husband dying in one of Useph's endless wars soon after they'd wed. Her body had felt the weight of a man before, and while she found the act unpleasant, she wouldn't die from having sex.

  Girding herself, she kept her eyes on the half circle of men and whispered, “My name is Caelan, and I'll trade you anything you want for your protection."

  * * * *

  Garron inhaled the woman, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the scents of freedom. She smelled of herbs and fresh air, just washed clothes, and petal-soft skin. His whole body tightened so sharply, he could barely focus on the swarm of Rolf's band of thieves and cut-throats.

  "What could you possibly have to trade me that I would want, Caelan?” Her name rolled off his tongue, his fingers itching to see if she felt as wonderful as she smelled.

  Part of him kept an eye on the men before them. Rolf ran the dungeons, but he hadn't challenged Garron since their skirmish a week ago. Garron still had an open knife slash that wouldn't heal, a memento from Rolf's blade. The wound had become infected, red streaks running up and down his thigh, but there wasn't anything he could do about it here in this hellish pit.

  "I am a Speaker,” she whispered. “I could heal for you."

  Did Speakers sense an injured man's wounds? He didn't think so, but otherwise why would she offer to heal him? Then he realized her voice had been more hopeful than sure.

  She still hadn't turned to face him, and he wondered what face went with the low alto voice that had shivers racing along his body.

  So she didn't just smell good but was smart as well, somehow figuring out that he was the lesser of the two evils without even seeing him in the light. Garron's very name meant protector, not that he'd been anyone's guardian since Sneed had thrown him into The Abyss.

  Unable to resist, he feathered his finger along her neck, the gentle contact drawing a shiver from her in response. She was as soft as she smelled, and he wanted her.

  What was he thinking? He'd almost tunneled out of the caverns. The last thing he needed was a woman slowing him down or distracting him. He had three nights before Mabon. Three precious nights before he died.

  "I don't need healing.” That wasn't a lie. The moment he touched her skin, his brain had stuttered to a stop. He needed her, not healing.

  One thing was for certain, he wouldn't let her end up in Rolf's slimy hands. Rolf was a sadist. No, best that he keep her close to him. He'd just make sure she didn't risk his escape.

  "Then the only thing I have left to offer is my body,” she said the words with force, her chin tipping up in defiance, sending a fireball of desire shooting through his veins.

  Shocking himself, Garron heard himself reply, “We have a bargain then.” His hand curled itself around her stomach on its own accord. He enjoyed the brush of the soft cotton of her dress, even as his mind decried his actions. He wasn't going to take any woman this way. She was desperate and offered him sex only as a way to live. He wouldn't be a Protector if he took advantage of her like this.

  Maybe it was time for him to just accept that Garron the Protector was gone forever. The fact was, he wasn't the same man he'd been six months ago when Sneed had tossed him into The Abyss without a trial, without even a hearing.

  He'd killed people and would kill more to save himself. In fact, he would have killed Sneed if a routine guard patrol hadn't been running a few critical moments early. Garron the Protector had been replaced by this man who was bending down to run his tongue along a desperate woman's neck.

  The flavor of herbs and healing exploded into his mouth, wrenching a moan of pure lust from his lips.

  As much as he wanted to stop, he knew he wouldn't give the little healer up. No, he rationalized, if he left her unprotected, she'd last only moments before Rolf and his men had her under them. Better him than someone who might very well kill her.

  "My protection for your body.” Tilting her head back and to the side, he leaned over her shoulder to rest his lips against hers, the chaste kiss so erotic, he felt a growl building inside his chest. Unable to stop himself, he had to tell her exactly what would be between them. “For every day you are here, you will lie below me, screaming in pleasure while I bring you over and over again,” he whispered, pulling her back into his hard cock, accepting this as the sign that he'd finally lost his humanity ... and possibly his mind.

  Chapter Three

  Caelan closed her eyes and participated in the kiss that sealed the bargain between them. It wasn't unpleasant, gentle for all the crassness of their bargain. His lips were soft compared to the rock hard muscles in his body, which circled around her in a protective shield.

  When she'd married Zant, she hadn't known him well, only seeing him from a
distance during castle celebrations. Zant was good-looking and cruel, enjoying the spoils of his position as one of Useph's right hand men. He'd been a rough and brief lover, preferring to spend as little time on the act as possible. He'd never kissed her like this, not once.

  The arm at her waist tightened to bring her buttocks against his large, hard erection. She curled trembling hands around his rough, scarred fingers, trying to shake free from the daze that had settled over her. If it was from the terror or her position, or the odd hum of need swimming inside her, she didn't know.

  It's only for one night. Tomorrow, you'll tell Useph everything he wants to know. You can do anything you have to do to last the next few hours.

  His lips ate at her mouth, sending her head spinning as she turned into his arms to better receive his kiss, the scent of powerful man swirling around her. Zant had been powerful, too, one of the top men in Useph's army, but there was something about this man that was different. A swirl of magic touched her skin, coming from inside him.

  And then she knew. He carried the gift of Battle Shout, a power similar to Speaking except it rendered the other soldiers on the battlefield temporarily disoriented and terror-filled, ensuring victory for the Shouter.

  She'd once been close to a man who carried it and had felt an odd attraction of her ability to his, the twist in her belly matching the twist she felt now, except it hadn't been this intense. Speaking healing words was, some said, the other half of the same power as Battle Shout. Two sides of the same coin. The ability to terrify and the ability to heal.

  "Damn you, Garron! We saw her first!” Rolf snarled, bringing Caelan back to reality with a smack. Somehow she'd forgotten her pursuers, forgotten everything but the man kissing her.

  She tried to move her head away from the kiss, but Garron pinned her with his other hand.

  "Follow my lead,” he whispered into her mouth.

  Nodding once, she grasped his arm for balance, pressing into his body for support.

  "If you want her, Rolf, come get her.” Garron's voice came out as a dangerous hum that raced over Caelan in a physical swipe. Magic twirled through the words, reinforcing her suspicions that he had power.

  Rolf took one step forward and then hesitated. “There are fifteen of us and one of you. We can take you down easily, and this time I'm not letting you live to challenge me again."

  A low growl began in the center of Garron's body, and instinctively Caelan knew this was how he called his magic. Instead of driving her away, it made her cling tighter.

  "Goddess,” she whispered, her own healing power pooling in the pit of her belly, the slide like a fresh mountain stream through her veins, coming more easily than it ever had before.

  Garron's growl turned into a purr. His lips landed on hers, and without understanding why she did it, Caelan pushed her power into him. Zant had once told her kissing her was unnatural, the magic that shimmered below her surface repulsing him. Garron didn't pull away. Instead he drank deeply, accepting her as no one had ever done before, the low growl coming out as a sound of need.

  Then he ripped his lips from hers and spun her behind him, leaving her disoriented and weak.

  "Come fight me, Rolf!” he roared, the lash of his words ripping through Caelan's body like the slash of knives, wrenching a whimper from her throat. She covered her ears with her hands, trying to keep her eyes on her enemies. Above the pain, she felt the need to fight, to rend and tear and triumph, something so foreign to her, it left her breathless.

  Rolf staggered back, gripping his chest as if he'd truly been slashed. The men at his back screamed in terror and scattered, one running the wrong direction straight into the cave wall.

  Caelan knew being behind Garron had saved her from the worst of the pain. She buried her face into his back and gripped his tattered shirt in both hands, holding onto the only thing that could save her in her reeling world.

  "This isn't over, Garron,” Rolf snarled.

  "We can end it now,” Garron said, the words spoken in a dangerous murmur that echoed through Caelan's body.

  "I'm not going to attack you here. Oh no. I'll kill you when you least expect it.” Rolf's voice faded as he backed from the cavern. “Never stop looking over your shoulder, Garron. You never know when I'll be there."

  Goddess of All Things, please save me from this place. I swear, I will spend my life in worship of You if You keep me alive until tomorrow.

  As usual, only silence greeted her prayers. The Goddess had long ago stopped speaking to her as She once had—before Caelan's mother had disgraced them all.

  Caelan had once thought she'd become a member of the Temple, leading a quiet life of reflection and communion with the Goddess, but when she'd turned thirteen, her mother's sin had caused the Goddess to go silent, taking from Caelan all but her power to heal. Gone were her visions of the past and future. Even her ability to know if people lied had vanished.

  For a brief moment, Caelan wondered if giving Garron her healing power to use in battle had been a perversion, but then she discarded the thought. If the Goddess didn't want Caelan using her ability in that way, why would She allow the exchange to happen?

  "He's gone,” Garron said, stepping away so fast, Caelan stumbled. “Follow me."

  Dropping onto his hands and knees, he crawled through an opening she hadn't even noticed nestled in the depression in the wall.

  Caelan swallowed past the hard lump of fear lodged in her throat, wondering how her whole life had turned upside down. Just yesterday, she'd been tending her herb garden and seeing a steady stream of sick from the village surrounding the castle. Now she stood in the gray darkness, having given her word to sleep with a man to save her life, while the chill air whistled by her in evil amusement.

  Somewhere behind her, a prisoner screamed in agony, a long wail that bounced along the walls and raked claws of fear into her spine.

  Caelan dropped to her hands and knees, scrambling down a short, sloping passageway, only to pitch face first into a small cavern.

  Her hands had barely touched the floor before Garron caught her. “Watch the drop,” he growled.

  Instead of her usual reaction of fear, Caelan felt something else swirl inside her. It was as if all her fear had been used up, leaving her with only rage and anger. “How can I watch the drop if I don't even know it's there?"

  Surprisingly, he didn't flinch at her sharp tone.

  Setting her on her feet, he placed his hands on either side of the rock wall behind her and leaned in until she could almost feel his nose touching hers. “You can stay here for as long as you fulfill your end of the bargain, but you'll live by my rules and take my orders."

  She glanced around her. Here turned out to be a five feet round uneven circle of a space that stretched up enough to give them room to stand, two small holes in the ceiling filtering in a dim light.

  "I'm not sure that was part of our deal.” She studied the layout with deliberate slowness, scanning the room around him just to be difficult. On one level, it puzzled her. She'd always done whatever it had taken to smooth over and pacify people. Yet here she stood baiting the tiger, and it felt so very good. A strange euphoria washed over her, the feeling as addictive as it was insane.

  "I never agreed to follow your orders,” she said, letting her voice drop low into a sultry whisper. She always followed the rules, and she'd never purposely tried to interest a man, but something drove her to do both now. What had gotten into her? The large power gift she'd given Garron must have made her reckless.

  He smiled, the action more felt than seen in the murky darkness. Rolling his head down in a deceptively slow motion, his lips brushed her ear. “You'll follow them or spend your time with me tied up, only let loose when I want your body."

  His threat rang hollow, even though she had no idea why it should. He was a warrior, ready to kill her attackers without a pause, but she didn't believe for a moment he'd hurt her. “If you want this body to come to you willing and ready, then you'd bet
ter watch your step, Shouter. You're not the only person with magic here."

  "No, I'm not.” He feathered his lips up her neck, a slow exploration. “Your power tastes like honey on my tongue."

  She tipped her head back so he could nibble his way along her jaw line, unable to stop herself, unable to stop him, unable to calm the growing need inside herself. In a moment of complete clarity, she knew she didn't want to stop it. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she could do whatever she wanted, be whoever she wanted to be. After all, in the light of day, they wouldn't even recognize each other, and tomorrow she'd be gone.

  Scared little Caelan suddenly wasn't scared any more. What had he said to her? "My protection for your body. For every day you are here, you will lie below me, screaming in pleasure while I bring you over and over again." She planned to hold him to every word.

  A voice in the back of her mind pointed out that she'd never had pleasure from a man before, wouldn't even know how to receive it. She told the voice to be quiet and slipped her hands under his shirt to feel his skin. It was warm and smooth, silk over iron. “You promised me pleasure in return for pleasure. Give it to me, and we'll talk about your rules."

  "Mmmm...” He nipped her neck, the pain quickly turning into sharp desire. “I promise you'll be more than satisfied."

  Standing on her tiptoes, she bit him back, hard, on his shoulder, marking him without breaking the skin. “I'll be the judge of my own pleasure."

  "You want this rough, Caelan?” he growled, spinning her into the wall, his body following hers to pin her against the coarse rock. He was hard and ready, calling her bluff. “Do you?"

  Fear twisted with the desire flooding her body, turning into a heady brew. Did she? Did she want him to be rough with her? She would never in a million years think she would, but the thought had her panting in need.

  "Do you?” he whispered, a tingling puff of breath on her ear.