Summer Pleasures - The Capture

by Anya Bast

  SUMMER PLEASURES: THE CAPTURE

  Anya Bast

  Dedicated to Sheri Ross Carucci. Thanks for giving an unknown writer an opportunity.

  Chapter One

  Lilane pulled the hood of her thin, black Anotte a bit further over her head and took a bite of bread and cheese. She closed her eyes in rapture as the first food she’d had in two days slid past her taste buds.

  The Crow’s Inn was packed with men and women who all sat at long tables, laughing and talking. Candles guttered, sputtering light and casting shadows over the rough-hewn wood walls and tables. Acrid smoke from the kitchen’s cook fire soured the air and made her eyes burn. It was hot outside and even hotter inside. She ran her fingertips over her moist brow.

  After taking a careful sip of her room temperature ale, she watched her quarry over the rim of the tankard. A full week of tracking him had brought her close to where she didn’t want to go—the Sudhraian-Nordanese border. She’d seen him leave Marken’s Lorddom three weeks ago almost to the day. A Goddess-bedamned Sudhraian, he was. She’d suspected it the first time she’d seen him because he’d had the coloring and clothing of one. Then she’d heard him speak Nordanese with a heavy Sudhraian accent, and she’d known for sure.

  Her brow furrowed. He was also some other sort of foreign creature, but what she knew not. The first time she’d seen him he’d been flying…with his very own wings. Before she’d left, she’d heard whispers in Marken’s Lorddom about a mystical race called the Aviat, long thought only a myth, living and breeding in Sudhra. But that mattered naught to her. It was the Sudhraian part of this man that mattered and nothing else.

  “Honored Anottie, would you like something else?” The barmaid set the steaming meat pie Lilane had ordered on the table in front of her. The young woman bobbed in a deep curtsy out of respect for Lilane’s costume. Guilt flickered through Lilane for the deception. Though dishonest, taking the guise of a Sudhraian Anottie had been necessary this close to Sudhra. It was the only thing keeping her safe. Besides, the robe was voluminous enough to conceal all kinds of useful items, like a sword and a dagger. Very necessary for a woman this close to the border—this she knew well.

  Lilane glanced at the barmaid and answered with her best Sudhraian accent. “No, blessed female, that will be all.”

  The words set Lilane’s teeth on edge. Blessed female. The Sudhraian required women to always be called so, to distinguish them from the superior sex—men. According to Sudhraian custom, had the waitress been a waiter, Lilane would have received no physical or verbal mark of respect, and she would not have been allowed to meet his gaze, even though the Anottie were the Sudhraian God’s holy order, counterpart to the male Priests of Anot.

  The waitress bobbed once more and left the table. Lilane fell to her meat pie voraciously at first, then realizing she drew attention to herself, slowed and ate as a proper Anottie would. The salty meat and vegetables tasted better than anything she could imagine. She ate the entire pie and still her stomach felt empty. But no amount of food would ever fill the hole she had within her. Only Sudhraian blood spilled on the ground by the edge of her blade could ever do that.

  And she had strong intentions of doing just that.

  She could not sleep, either. She’d had damned little rest in the three weeks since she’d left her village. Being hungry and completely exhausted was a bad combination. She couldn’t think straight anymore.

  Her eyes narrowed on the Sudhraian male, her hunted. A sexual jolt went through her every time she looked at him. It only made her detest him more, and herself as well. How could she feel attraction for this Sudhraian? She shivered. She must be sick and twisted to find him attractive, though he was undeniably good looking. His face was hewn from a masculine hunk of granite and one could see the exceptionally light blue of his eyes at twenty paces. His body was a work of masculine art, with long, strong limbs.

  His musculature was perfect—lean and hard. His hair was a shade close to golden as her own and clipped close to his head. His usually unshaven chin was clefted and his lips full and well shaped, and nearly always quirked in a sexy little smile that made her wonder what he was thinking.

  She’d watched him one hot evening from a distance as he’d chopped deadwood for a cook fire without his shirt. The sight had thrummed somewhere low within her, made her wet with need.

  Anger rose up within Lilane. It only made her want to kill him more. She had fought against men such as he for her entire life.

  Her hunted tipped back his tankard and drained the last of his ale. Then he fished a few coins from the pocket of his buttery leather pants, stood and walked out the door.

  Lilane measured the space of ten heartbeats, located her coins and tossed them on the table in a shower of clinks, then stood and followed him.

  She breached the exit and entered the hot, darkness-swathed night. Lilane itched to flip back her hood to cool herself, but she dared not. Her pale hair would be visible in the darkness. The black material of her robe was another advantage of traveling as an Anottie because it camouflaged her so well.

  She walked toward her horse that was tied to a tree some distance into the woods. Her quarry had already traveled down the road leading away from The Crow’s Inn , toward Sudhra. She had to take him tonight, before he crossed into Sudhra proper. If he did that, she would not be able to follow.

  Goddess-bedamned man always slept outside in the forest, never between walls. Her back ached from doing the same. Though it was true her flourentimes were quickly disappearing and camping in the woods cost no coin.

  A tall, heavyset man with black hair stepped out of the darkness in front of her, blocking her path. Lilane stilled. Her body became alert and ready. A thin man with sand-colored hair appeared beside the first. Discreetly, she drew her hand through the hole she’d created in the pocket of her Anotte, and wrapped her hand around the handle of her dagger.

  The beefy one smiled. “Well, what do we have here? An Anottie of Sudhra?” he asked in Sudhraian. He reached out and ripped her hood back. “Tch, tch. Far too pretty a woman to sacrifice herself to Anot, wouldn’t you say, Hap?”

  Hap’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Far too pretty, indeed, Crag, and bold, too. Look how she meets our eyes.”

  She quickly averted her gaze. Blood of the Goddess, she kept forgetting that part. She stared at the etched leather grip of Crag’s sword, instead. Lucent Priestdom. She recognized the mark of the eagle.

  “Shall we keep her?” asked Hap. She heard the greed in his voice. “She’d catch an excellent price, don’t you think?”

  Slavers. In Sudhra they impressed many women into sexual slavery. The slavers made regular runs over the border into her village that lay just inside Nordan. Lilane had fought the bastards since she’d been old enough to catch their attention.

  She replied in Sudhraian. “I am a member of the sacred order of Anot. To force me into slavery will put a blight upon your soul.”

  They laughed. “I’m just quivering in my boots, honored Anottie,” Crag mocked. He reached out to grab her upper arm and Lilane moved. Pulling her dagger out of her pocket and spinning to the side, she lashed out. The tip of it bit into Crag’s upper arm and he bellowed in surprise and outrage.

  She backed away and stood her ground. Running at this point would do her no good. She was fleet of foot, but the time it took to mount her horse would allow them to overtake her.

  She put some distance between herself and the men, dropped her dagger in the weeds nearby, and found her sword beneath the folds of her Anotte. She struggled with the garment for several precious heartbeats before finally drawing it. She was thankful that at least her hair was plaited securely and wouldn’t impede
her. A ringing hiss filled the air and she stood in battle stance.

  Luckily, both men had been too shocked by her sudden transformation to rush her. That luck wouldn’t hold long.

  “Wha’ tha?” muttered Hap. Both men looked stunned. Crag had one hand clamped over his right arm and blood stained his shirtsleeve dark. Lilane noted the sword sheathed on his left side. Aye, she’d wounded the bastard’s sword arm as she’d planned.

  Hap’s surprise quickly faded to rage. “You bitch,” he said as he came toward her. “You better know how to use that weapon.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Draw and find out.”

  He drew and came at her. Their swords clashed in the air and Lilane spun around fast, keeping her eye on Crag, who’d also drawn his blade, despite his wound.

  She’d trained her whole life to fight sword-to-sword and one of the first things she’d learned was that men always underestimated her skill because she was a woman. Her one rule for fighting the opposite sex was to keep moving, to dodge in and out, never allowing her opponent to bring his superior weight and strength down upon her. Be fleet of feet. Do that and she gained an advantage.

  Hap’s mouth spread in a sick smile, revealing rotten teeth. “We’ll have fun breaking you, girl.” He came at her and she blocked his blade. She spun around fast, kicking one leg wide and bringing her booted heel as hard as she could into his groin. Hap gave a shrill cry and dropped to the ground, his sword forgotten as he nursed his injured privates.

  Crag glanced at his friend and growled. His sword arced through the air toward her. She met Crag’s blade and the force of the blow nearly bowed her in half. She let loose a cry, desperately trying to keep her muscles from failing. He was surprisingly strong even with his arm injured. He pushed her back with a burst of force she couldn’t dodge. She staggered, tripped over Hap, and fell to the ground. Silver caught the moonlight above her and she rolled to the side, narrowly missing Crag’s sword as it arced through the air and the tip pierced the dirt to her immediate left.

  She tried to jump to her feet, but the folds of her Anotte got tangled around her legs. She tripped, and Crag laughed. “Having trouble, woman?”

  She steadied herself and circled Crag warily. She didn’t have time to play. She had to get out of there before Hap recovered and came back in a vicious rage.

  “Not at all,” she taunted. “Fighting someone with as little skill as you doesn’t require much effort.”

  In a fit of impatience and rage, Crag charged her. She deflected his blow and spun around, bringing the full length of her blade to bear against his exposed side. The edge of her sword cut through flesh and he went down like a tree hewn by an axe.

  Lilane ripped the Anotte off, cursing under her breath. It was a good disguise, but it hindered her fighting ability. She discarded the garment and quickly sheathed her sword. Then she picked up Crag’s blade by the grip. It was a man’s sword, heavy and cumbersome, not like her blade that had been fashioned for her especially by her now dead fiancé, Dal. She dragged it over to Hap in order to also collect his weapon.

  Hap’s face was an interesting shade of white. “Nordanese whore,” he gasped in a pained voice. With the hand that wasn’t gripping his privates, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “Goddess-forsaken slaver,” she cursed. “You made me late.” Lilane elbowed him in the nose hard. He bellowed in pain, collapsed to the ground and went still.

  Lilane hesitated a moment, her finger rubbing over the grip of Crag’s sword. She should lop his head off. She should lop both their heads off. Two less slavers in the world. Two less men to humiliate, rape, and enslave innocent women. Aran would be better off for her action.

  She stared down at him. But she couldn’t do it. Not like this. In a fair fight, in a battle for her life, yes, but not when they were unconscious like this.

  Of course, that begged the question; what was she planning to do with her hunted? Did she really think she could best him in a fair fight? She’d been driven this far by rage, pure and simple.

  The Sudhraians had killed her family and her fiancée, Dal, just three weeks ago. They’d destroyed her village and forced her people to find refuge in Marken’s Lorddom. She wanted Sudhraian blood on her blade for that and her hunted had been the first Sudhraian she’d laid eyes on.

  Reckless rage had brought her this far, nothing more. Certainly not clear thought—not in the cloud of grief she’d been in recently.

  She picked up Hap’s sword by the grip and dragged both of the heavy weapons to her horse. Perhaps she should reconsider her actions. Perhaps she should consider letting her hunted go.

  Someone clapped from the tree line. “Nice job,” drawled out a low, masculine voice. She instantly recognized her hunted’s smooth tone and Sudhraian accent.

  Lilane dropped the two swords to the ground with a clatter and drew her blade once more. She turned to face him. No time for reconsideration now. Her actions had just caught up with her. He leaned against the trunk of a tree causally, one long, well-muscled leg bent, his strong arms folded across his broad chest. Shadow swathed his face. “I wonder what tricks you’ll pull during a second performance.” His baritone voice had a teasing lilt.

  This situation made her nervous. Crag was wounded badly, but Hap could recover. She could fight men like Crag and Hap, but this man she hunted, he was different. She’d watched him over the last week and had seen his skill with a sword. He’d be a powerful match for her, and she didn’t think she could fight her hunted and Hap both at once and come out the victor.

  She widened her battle stance. “Come out here where I can see you, dark lord.”

  “Anything for a lady.”

  He stepped away from the tree and walked a couple paces into the moonlight. The silver light limned his square jaw and well-defined mouth. It seemed a pity to damage such a glorious male form. But damage it she would, if she could.

  “You’ve been following me for the last week,” he said. “Why?”

  She stiffened. How had he known? She’d stayed far away from him, only following his trail. Lilane leveled her gaze at him. “To kill you.”

  “Really. Why would you want to do that?”

  She stuck her chin out. “I have my reasons, Sudhraian.”

  “Ah. So, you’re waging your own private little war, are you? You realize that there’s a bigger one going on all around you. Why don’t you join that one?”

  Lilane ground her teeth. She knew first-hand about the war between Sudhra and Nordan. Her family and fiancée had been killed in one of the first raids on the Nordanese border. “I’m a woman,” she replied.

  He went silent and looked her leisurely up and down. “Yes.” He smiled slowly. “I noticed that. The Nordanese let their women help. They’re scouts and messengers—”

  “Scouts, messengers.” She snorted. “I need blood on my blade.”

  He indicated the men on the ground behind her. “Well, looks like you got it. Feel better?”

  She narrowed her eyes. No, she felt worse, but he didn’t have to know that. “We’re talking too much, Sudhraian, and not fighting enough.”

  “My name is Lord Rue d’Ange, not Sudhraian.”

  “I don’t care what your name is.”

  “You just want to kill me without even knowing my name? That’s a little cold blooded, don’t you think?”

  Behind her, Hap groaned. She closed her eyes and gave a prayer to the Goddess. She had no choice but to fight him. Worse, she had to hurry or she’d be trapped. She opened her eyes, let free a battle cry, and ran for Rue.

  He drew his sword and met her first maneuver with ease, squarely blocking her. The impact of his sword against her blade reverberated down her arm and made her teeth vibrate. Quickly avoiding the full power of his blow, she dodged to the right and spun around, coming up behind him. He pivoted, following her movement without effort and blocking her second blow.

  Rue advanced on her before she could twist away, forcing her into the defensive. A
s he pressed her back toward the trees, she realized how badly she was breaking her rule. He slowly brought all his strength to bear upon her and she had nowhere to move.

  His blade kissed along the length of hers and locked at the guard. Step-by-step he pushed her back. This time dodging meant death. She couldn’t spin away from him, if she tried that now he’d kill her.

  A hiss of breath escaped from between her pursed lips. She could tell he was putting barely any effort into this while her muscles strained in protest. He merely played with her now. She concentrated all her power onto her sword and still he pushed her back. She cried out in agony and frustration. Her arms shook with the effort of keeping him at bay.

  A hard rough object halted her backward progression—the trunk of a large oak.

  “You’re trapped now, my lady,” said Rue. He didn’t even sound winded.

  She couldn’t reply. Instead she focused all her attention and will on keeping his blade as far away from her throat as possible.

  He leaned into her, staring into her eyes. Their gazes locked and Rue’s face went carefully blank and his body still.

  Her brow furrowed. What did he see in her that seemed to stun him so?

  No matter. Scenting opportunity, she focused her last bit of energy and desperate urge to live in a burst toward him. He staggered back and she whirled away, finally out from under his weight. He seemed shocked and she took advantage by swinging her blade viciously at him. He recovered at the last moment and leapt back. Still, she caught him with the very tip of her sword, tearing through the fabric and drawing a thin line of blood from his stomach.

  He looked down at his abdomen, then up at her. His eyes were dark now, hooded and dangerous looking. “I’m through playing, my lady Nordanese.”

  His hard gaze alone had her stepping back. She stopped herself and held her ground. The bushes beside her rustled and Hap emerged, holding the sword that had been on the ground near him.

  Lilane jumped away from him. Her gaze flicked between Hap and Rue, calculating how best to handle the situation now that she was forced into it.