The Unexpected Bonding Vow

by Michelle Howard

  Saedra eased further behind the door in the lower level living room as she kept her ear pressed to the frame and continued to listen. They were discussing her father and the man held prisoner in the dungeon beneath their home.

  “The publically broadcasted execution should finally cripple the image the Assassins Guild has.” The first voice finished with a chuckle and the second joined in.

  Hair crawling at her nape, Saedra back further from the doorway then lifted the hem of her skirts to turn and race away. Her slippers were silent on the stone floors and her gait lopsided but she’d perfected her own version of speed and managed to clear the stairs before the hint of the rough voices edged closer.

  At the end of the hall on the second floor, she took a sharp left then a right until she passed several closed doors to reach her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against the sturdy structure barring her from the evil on the other side. Her breath escaped in pants. It was time. The idea had been building for weeks from the moment she discovered the identity of the man her father held prisoner.

  Tonight would be her best shot. Perhaps even her last chance to escape the future her father wanted to condemn her to with the vicious pirate as her husband. There had been a special dinner last night to introduce Saedra to Hritham. Aside from his appearance, the way his empty eyes gazed upon her scared Saedra more than anything her father had ever done. When he’d licked his lips and twirled his long tongue in her direction, she’d almost run from the room.

  Sweat beaded on her temple at the thought of being forced to accept the tentacle pirate for her husband. Saedra swiped the moisture away and tried to calm her pounding heart.

  She had to act now. Pushing away from the door, Saedra glanced around her room and the familiar furnishings. Simple and without frills, her room was a reminder that Maurin provided only the basics. He didn’t care if she languished in his home or thrived. The only reason he hadn’t killed her was because he continued to hope he could use her to his advantage. With her marriage to Hritham, he’d have his wish.

  Her lips pressed firmly together. She wasn’t willing to be a pawn any longer. A quick search of her closet provided a dark cloak with a hood that would fall low enough to cover her face. Saedra shrugged her arms into it, ignoring the scent of crushed flowers, which brought with it the memory of her deceased mother. Not today. She couldn’t afford those dark thoughts right now when her one chance at getting away was slipping away with each moment she wasted.

  Things were in place and if she managed the final item on her checklist, freedom loomed ahead.

  Saedra cracked her door open and peered through the hall. Empty. Steps light, she pressed her back to the wall. After checking both ways, she made her way toward the rear stairs at the opposite end of the hall which led to the front atrium and kitchen. Shadows danced and melded into eerie shapes on the wall with each flicker from the glow of the wall lamps.

  Nerves strung tight, she pushed out a soothing breath and inhaled in the same calming manner. She needed to use her hand on the scarred railing to make her way down, down, down. No one used these stairs. Not after her mother had fallen to her death in this exact space thirteen years ago when her father flung her away from him in anger.

  Her pulse stuttered from the memory, but Saedra pressed on. Using this way guaranteed her an unnoticed way into her father’s dungeons. She took a sharp turn at the landing. There was a door to her left. It led to a path at the front of the house and her father’s large office.

  Directly ahead was a dark archway but no door to bar the way into the dungeon. Steeling herself, Saedra launched a stealthy pace down these stairs as well. Once she reached the bottom, she strained her ears for any sounds. Silence. Licking her lips and swallowing through the growing lump in her throat, she crept forward.

  From where she stood, there was a long row of cells on each side of a hall that stretched before her. They all had bars on the front and were walled on the sides to prevent the occupants from seeing anyone coming or going. No lights shone from within any of them. Darkness hindered her visibility as she eased deeper into the dungeon.

  Empty. Empty. Empty.

  Her heart kicked up a notch as she passed the fourth empty cell and stopped. Where was he? He had to be here. The guards spoke of the prisoner often and this was the only place her father would have considered safe enough to contain someone as dangerous as belonging to the Guild.

  Saedra crept further along, down the length of the hall. Just when she’d convinced herself she was wrong and that he wasn’t here, she saw the prisoner. Sitting in the corner of the last cell with one leg stretched out and one leg bent at the knee was the man her father had imprisoned through sheer luck and a bit of betrayal.

  The dark shadows hid his face, but the guards talked. She knew exactly who this was. His reputation proceeded him and she trembled at what she was about to do. The risk was great but what was her other choice? Death? Marriage to a cruel man who would surely kill her with no fear of retribution?

  No, Saedra wasn’t a quitter, she was a fighter. Every credit she managed to stash, every night she went hungry was finally paying off. This wasn’t reckless on her part.

  Her gaze never strayed from the lone occupant in the cell. A killer. An assassin. Head tipped back against the wall and eyes closed, he didn’t glance up when she pulled out the keys she’d stolen. Her fingers held tight to the square chips to keep the metal from clinking together. If she did this, if she opened the door and followed through on this, there would be no turning back.

  Be sure, Saedra, she almost heard her mother’s voice caution her. She’d planned this moment every step of the way and would succeed, damn it.

  One after the other, Saedra inserted each key chip into the slot, her heart racing against the clock in her head. She kept glancing behind her as fear dictated speed. What if she’d stolen the wrong keys?

  On the very last one, fingers trembling, she shoved the square key into the lock and bit her lip to hold in a cry of relief when the mechanism clicked and the latch opened.

  “Hello?” she whispered as she hovered at the door of the tiny dank space.

  No answer. No movement.

  Skin drawn painfully tight, Saedra eased inside and closed the bar-covered door behind her. It wouldn’t do if her father’s men discovered her here. None of them respected Saedra and she wasn’t sure her father would bother keeping them in line anymore.

  “Don’t let him be dead,” she found herself pleading in a whisper.

  When she drew abreast of the slumped figure, her breath stalled. This close, his smell slammed into her—unwashed, sweat and festering wounds somewhere.

  “Blessed gods above.” Saedra dropped to her knees beside his still figure, skirts pooling about her legs. She reached out to his face and pressed her fingers below his nostrils. The puffs of air reassured that he hadn’t died. Yet.

  Her gaze drifted over his form. His condition was indeed precarious. The all black outfit he wore was torn and stained. The odor emanating from his body also attested to the lack of bathing during his captivity. How long he’d been in here, she wasn’t sure. A week, maybe two. At least that’s when she’d discovered one of the most skilled members of the Assassin Guild was an unwilling guest of her father.

  “Sir? Sir?!” Saedra reached up to tap his jaw and he caught her wrist in a brutal grip. She gasped at suddenness of the action.

  Blazing eyes as gray as molten steel met hers. Despite his apparent beaten state he wasn’t completely done. Thank the gods. There was still fight in him. A core of strength he would need if they were to get out of here together. But first, she needed confirmation he was who she sought.

  “Garik? Are you Garik?” she questioned urgently.

  He didn’t release her wrist when she tugged. For a brief minute, she considered the wisdom of her decision. Members of the Assassins Guild were part feared and part revered for how they maintained order in the lawless wasteland of the criminal u
nderground.

  They worked behind the scenes on the not quite legal end of things. The Alliance unofficially gave them tacit approval because the Guild took care of the riffraff raising havoc in space. Those caught blatantly doing egregious actions often had an order sent out for the Guild to terminate your existence. Everyone else avoided them because to draw their attention usually meant a death warrant was out for you.

  One of the most feared of that organization was the man in front of her. Saedra had heard numerous rumors about him. Enough to give her a healthy fear of him.

  Hopefully, it was true—every ruthless, terrifying whisper. It was the only reason she was taking such a chance. If he was indeed the infamous Garik Denikon, then he was the key to her own escape and freedom.

  It wasn’t a light decision. Nothing in her life could afford to be. Once she had started making her preparations, it was clear she wouldn’t be able to manage her getaway on her own. She’d thought long and hard over the last two days about incorporating the assassin in her plan.

  “Who are you?” His voice was a rough rasp that caressed even as it heightened her awareness of the danger present inside the cell.

  “I am Saedra.”

  There was no worry he’d connect her identity to her father. Maurin didn’t exactly boast of his only child to anyone and those here wouldn’t speak out of turn because loose tongues led to loose heads. She was worthless as far as he was concerned for not displaying any of the special gifts he’d thought his wife would pass down to her, not to mention his own Dragonian heritage. Although there was the upcoming forced marriage he sought to bind her to.

  Garik licked cracked lips before asking in a shaky voice, “What do you want? Why are you here?”

  Despite the grip on her wrist, Garik was weak and struggled to speak. She had to strain to hear each bitten off question which caused her to hesitate to answer. The fingers about her tightened at the delay, pinching her skin and Saedra winced. His gaze dropped to their joined hands. Her fingers brushed instinctively, touching the purpling bruises on the back of his hand. She felt him flinch from the touch and suddenly her wrist was dropped as he fell back against the grimy wall.

  His piercing gaze zeroed back to her face. Saedra swallowed and her heart fluttered. She knew she didn’t have a lot going for her in the looks department. Nowhere near the great beauty her mother had been but his searching stare was unnerving and seemed far too intimate.

  ***

  As he stared at the crouching woman beside him, Garik wondered what trick Maurin was up to next. In the beginning, he had been amused and sure he’d manage to escape. Instead, the days had come and gone again and again.

  The torture and beatings had grown exponentially as Maurin and the guards tasked with breaking him grew enraged at being unable to crack his stoicism. They wanted him to beg for his life which he wouldn’t do. They wanted him to reveal Guild secrets, which he’d take to the grave first.

  Lord Maurin was far more clever than Garik had given him credit for, though. The first days of his captivity had been an endless cycle of beatings, followed by starvation. When that failed to get the results he wanted, he’d left Garik in this cell with occasional visits from the guards who taunted him through the bars. Then they’d brought in women. As if he’d be so easily seduced.

  But no. They brought the women in as threats. Two, three—Garik had lost count of how many were slain before him begging for their lives while Maurin demanded the names and locations of Guild safe spaces.

  Garik had forced himself to harden his heart, block out the pleas of the women and retreat far into his mind to resist. His current weakened state made escape at this point near impossible.

  Without means of contacting anyone from the Guild, Garik was starting to believe this would be his finale. He’d die, and none of his peers would know how he met his end.

  Which brought him back to the woman in his cell. It was dark and there was only a sliver of light from the outer hall to give him a glimpse of her appearance. She was pressed close to his side, unmindful of his stench. Surely if he could smell it, she could, yet she didn’t hesitate to touch him, cup his jaw as she thought to awaken him.

  Truth was, he’d been aware of her the moment she’d entered his prison. At first, he assumed she was one of the guards coming to torture him again. But the light and unsure footsteps awakened his curiosity. What new trickery had Maurin devised now to get Garik to reveal the identity of his fellow Guild members?

  Her face was a study in shades of gray thanks to the dim lighting. Not a raving beauty, but there was a vestige of kindness in her expression. Could be a trap for all he new. A wave of weakness washed over Garik and he huffed out a breath as he tipped his head back along the wall for support. He didn’t really care how she looked. He only prayed that her death would be quick and painless.

  This woman looked as if she would startle herself straight into the bowels of death if someone raised their voice at her. Every word she spoke held a slight tremble beneath it.

  At any other time, if he’d crossed paths with her outside of this place, Garik would have walked by without noticing a single thing about her. Amusement unexpectedly filled him—or she would have run in the other direction upon spotting him. Timid mice never faced off against larger, meaner predators.

  And there was no mistaking her timid nature. Her appearance practically screamed frail from the thin wrist he’d gripped when he thought she was attacking him to her long, slender form. The material of her ankle-length, dark-colored gown fitted snuggly to her frame and Garik would bet a large portion of the balance in his credit account that he could clasp her entire waist span between the palms of his hands.

  “Why are you here?” he repeated harshly.

  “I am called Saedra as I said and I can get you out of here.”

  Her response was a non-answer. He wanted to laugh. Garik hadn’t survived this long in the world he inhabited by being a fool. He was one of the best for a reason. Still, if her presence allowed him an opportunity to get out of here, he’d play along. “What do you want, Saedra?”

  His tongue lingered over the pronunciation of her name. Her lashes fluttered and he held in a smirk. Too easy. There were other ways besides force to lure in the unwary.

  She huddled closer. “Tomorrow at first light, Maurin plans to have the guards bring you out to the public courtyard in his home. With live footage recording, he will have you executed as evidence that he is not afraid of anything and that not even one of the most infamous assassins from the Guild can stop him. Your death will be a message.”

  Garik stiffened, causing his muscles to seize and spasm. He muffled the groan of pain and tried to focus on what this woman was telling him. It was bad. Very bad. Maurin was a wanted criminal who had a list of offenses to his name. There was also a capture and retrieve order on him for his thievery of a priceless artifact from the royal family of Zephil, not to mention a kill order for his slaughter of an off duty military couple.

  It wasn’t a surprise Maurin had drawn the attention of the Assassins Guild nor that the Alliance had put in a request for his immediate termination once the artifact was secured.

  Now it seemed to counter his assassination, Maurin planned to kill Garik in front of untold numbers as a blatant fuck you statement. The Guild would suffer a significant blow to their reputation if that happened.

  That wouldn’t go over well. Garik eyed his midnight visitor again. “What does that have to do with you, or are you a dying man’s last request?”

  He made sure to leer at her in a blatant manner while reevaluating her attraction in a sexual context as she shifted under the moonlight from the narrow window. Her bone structure was too sharp to ever fit the standards of paid cosmetic beauty that promoted lush lips, wide eyes and pert noses with no bridges. Maybe she was pretty in better lighting. Her features held an angular cast, her nose a delicate blade bisecting high cheekbones beneath dark eyes.

  Striking. That was a better desc
riptor for her looks.

  “I’m here to offer a request, yes. Marriage.”

  As soon as she said the last word, Garik wanted to laugh outright. He just managed to contain his chuckles. If she knew how little he found humor in things after all he’d witnessed and lived through, she’d be impressed at drawing the emotion from him.

  “Marriage?’ he repeated loudly for clarity once he was sure no sign of amusement would color his words.

  “Shh.” She glanced over her shoulder as if checking for guards.

  Garik held his breath, listening as well.

  Silence.

  She turned toward him again and scooted even closer if possible. Anymore and she’d be in his lap. The thought didn’t repel him. Maybe he’d been in here longer than he thought, or his body was tired of the restrictions he’d put on the sexual aspects of his life.

  Her hands once more danced over his jaw as she tipped it up. Light and with a gentle touch, she stroked. This was the second or third time she’d freely put her hands on him without fear or concern. Garik had broken the bones of others for daring to touch him. He studied her closer in hopes of determining what her angle was. Trap by Maurin?

  Except no one could be that oblivious, could they?

  He was an assassin. He killed then disappeared. How many times had others complimented his ruthless nature, his ability to compartmentalize and get the job done? Yet, this strange woman with her way too delicate appearance, touched Garik as if she wasn’t aware of the danger he represented to her. It would be far too easy to snap her neck.

  Her fingers glided over his skin, drawing out long ago feelings. In any other circumstances, Garik would have jerked away from the touch. He didn’t do gentle and soft. Yet her caress compelled and he found he didn’t have it in him to move away. Plus, he wanted to see how far she’d go if this was Maurin’s latest idea of torture to trick Garik.

  “Marriage,” she continued, “marry me and I will help you get out of here. Now. Tonight. Come tomorrow, Maurin will be the fool, and there will be no public execution. Surely after you escape the Guild can send another to accomplish the task needed.”