by Tam Linsey
The sound of footsteps hushed them. Eily stiffened as a man’s shadow blocked the moon and rough hands found her bonds. Rann’s voice tickled her ear, “I think you’d better keep me company tonight.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jubal jumped to his feet as the scuffle broke out. The night hid everyone from view, and it took a moment to orient himself.
“Don’t touch her,” Pulo said. A grunt, and then the ground vibrated as someone fell.
Bodies writhed on the muddy bank to the left. Jubal charged over, trying not to get knocked down as arms and legs thrashed out of the swarming mass.
“Kill him!” Pulo’s naked chest caught the moonlight as he rose up before dropping again into the chaos.
Rann shouted, then his voice choked off. Eily’s distressed cries intensified from somewhere among the tangle. Rann let out a feral string of curses.
“Enough!” Jubal bellowed, heedless of nearby hunters. He bent and grabbed the first body part he could latch onto—an ankle. Both hands around the appendage, he dragged the person free.
His brother yelped, kicking at Jubal before rolling to his feet. Once upright, he darted back in to kick Pulo’s gut. “I’ll kill you, by the Knife!”
Jubal snatched his brother’s tunic, pulling him back. “He’s no use to us dead.”
Rann shrugged off Jubal’s hold but didn’t advance again. “He tried to kill me.”
“You got too close. He’s a slave. Of course he’s going to try to escape.”
Taking a single step forward, Rann said, “Help me get her loose.”
Eily had pulled Pulo’s head onto her lap, her shoulders heaving in small, shuddering gasps. Jubal faced his brother, blocking the slaves from view. “You’re not taking advantage of her.”
The creases of Rann’s scowl deepened in the moonlight. “You want her, too. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
Jubal’s face turned hot, and he was glad for the darkness. He thought he’d hidden his desire better. “She’s been the only woman around for days. We’ve all looked at her. But I need force myself on no woman, slave or otherwise. And neither do you.”
Huffing, Rann said, “It’s not about the sexing, I told you that.” He lowered his voice. “We could hide her and only give Sefe the other two. Once we get Pops back, we retrieve her from hiding and move on. Imagine never needing to buy bitters again. We could even sell use of her, like Sefe does.”
The thought sickened Jubal. But Rann’s plan had a kernel of possibility. Could he save Eily? They only needed two Flame Runnas. He stared at the huddled slaves. The whites of Wint’s eyes gleamed as he stared in Jubal’s direction.
Rann continued, “If you want her first, go ahead. Sharing won’t diminish her magic. I want you to try it. Then you’ll see.”
Jubal’s heart was racing, desire stirring in spite of his distaste. He wanted her, but not like this. He didn’t want to share her with Rann. He didn’t want to share her with anybody. “No. She’s our most valuable merchandise. What if Sefe says these two men aren’t enough? I won’t risk harming her before we reach the Taguan.”
“Pfft. We won’t harm her. She might even enjoy it. And if we have to trade her for Pops, we should make use of her while we can.”
“No.”
“You act like she’s your woman. What if I decided to use one of the men? Would you have issue then? I bet not. Sefe says the magic is the same. But I’d prefer a woman.”
“I thought you’d changed after what happened with Pops, but you swilled yourself into nearly getting us killed by those hunters. Now you want to use up our other goods.” Jubal crossed his arms, shaking his head. “You’ve used up your share. The slaves are off limits. All of them.”
Rann balled his fists, chin high. “She’s mine as much as yours. I’ve let you boss me around too long. I’m the elder. I make the decisions.”
“Your decisions only result in trouble. Pops put me in charge.”
“Really? I didn’t hear him say that.”
“You were out cold!”
“You can’t prove he did.”
Jubal gritted his teeth, his chest heaving. “Leave the woman alone.”
Rann crossed his arms and widened his stance the way he had as a boy, daring his younger brother to try to tackle him. “Make me.”
While the traders fought over Eily’s chastity, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think like a Haldanian. The Protectorate was undoubtedly tracking the beacon, and the reversions were intended as decoys or maybe bodyguards. Once she reached the Taguan and started back, the dusters would know to look for the camp at the endpoint. The help button was intended for exactly the situation she was in, to summon aid if the cannibals tried to keep her as a slave.
And she’d given the beacon to Jubal.
Why had she trusted him? Why hadn’t she pushed the button before Gid was taken from her? Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but she clamped down on it and pushed it aside. She could no longer help Gid. But she could try to save the Holdout. She had to get her hands on the beacon, even if it cost her virginity. Whatever it took.
Straightening her spine, she prayed her alkaloids would be strong enough to knock the traders out. But she shuddered to think of Rann’s body against hers. Jubal first, then. She lifted her chin and tried to make her voice strong. “I would lie with Jubal.”
The brothers’ argument fell silent.
After a few heartbeats, Rann chuckled. “She wants you, brother. Now what?”
Jubal’s muscular shoulders blocked out the stars as he approached where she sat. Her pulse thundered through her ears and her insides trembled. At home, she’d never been able to tempt Gideon into more than a peck on the lips. There’d been safety in that, knowing he’d be the strong one, the one to put on the brakes. This wouldn’t stop with a kiss. She clenched her jaw and lifted her bound hands toward Jubal.
He untied the end of her lead rope before drawing her upright by her cinched wrists. Her legs threatened to collapse as she walked with him to his bedroll.
Rann called after them, “Don’t take too long.”
Jubal didn’t answer.
At his blankets, they halted. Then Jubal just stood there. Her heart raced. He stood close enough for her to sense the warmth from his body. Her skin tingled as she waited for him to touch her—wanted him to touch her. Was she supposed to do something? Swallowing, she said, “Should I... what would you like me to do?”
He took a step closer, so their chests touched, and looked down into her face. His breath fanned her skin like a caress. “Why?”
She couldn’t stop trembling. She was about to give away something she could never get back—the only thing still pure about her in the eyes of the Order. But some part of her was excited. Yearning. Her voice emerged as a husky whisper. “This is my first time.”
He stiffened and stepped back. “I meant why are you agreeing? And how can this be your first time?”
“Women at the Holdout wait until marriage.” She swallowed, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “We only ever lie with one man.”
He rubbed his hands over his hair and half turned away.
She furrowed her brows. Would he refuse to lie with her because she was a virgin? Perhaps it had been a mistake to mention it. Sweat prickled her skin. She had to convince Jubal to take her. If he didn’t, Rann surely would, and while the thought of Jubal’s touch made her blood race, the thought of Rann’s made her want to vomit. “But I’m yours, now.”
“You and Gid never sexed?”
She shook her head, muscles tense, then realized he might not be able to see her. “No,” she croaked. She needed to be more seductive, but she was paralyzed with doubt.
He let out a short puff of breath.
Panting, she took a hesitant step toward him and whispered, “I don’t want Rann to be my first.”
He wrapped his hands around her biceps, not pushing her away, but not drawing her close. “I can’t keep you for myself.”
He sounded like he wanted to. Her heart ached, and tears pricked her vision. “I know.”
He turned his head slightly and dipped down to her mouth. The contact sent a wave of heat plummeting toward her navel. As his lips moved against hers, the sensation plunged deeper. One of his hands crept from her bicep to cradle the back of her neck as she opened her mouth to him. His other arm wrapped around her waist to pull her close. Her bound hands were trapped between them, but he didn’t seem to notice. He spent a long time brushing his lips against hers, trailing his tongue along her teeth, caressing her neck and hair.
When he finally pulled back he sucked in a long breath. “Beautiful.”
Flushed and breathing hard, she tilted her face up for more. He took her wrists and looped her hands around the back of his head, then scooped her up to lower her to his blankets. Nuzzling against her neck, he ran a hand along her side, fitting her against him. She could feel his arousal pressing her hip. The sensation both excited and frightened her. She lay very still.
After a moment, he lifted his head to look into her face. His features were shrouded in darkness, backlit by the moon and feeble stars. “Are you afraid?”
She contemplated lying. Wouldn’t a seductress be encouraging? But she found she couldn’t speak. She shook her head instead, so stiff the movement was more like a tremor.
He chuckled and stroked a finger down her cheek. “You’re a liar. I knew it from the moment you crossed that first river.”
His words eased her a fraction. “I’ve been told it hurts.”
“I’ll be gentle.” He nibbled her lower lip, sending jolts of pleasure through her.
Running a hand down her side to the hem of her skirt, he slid his palm up her leg, drawing the fabric with it. When he reached the edge of her underpants, he paused, rubbing a thumb over the soft cotton fabric covering her hipbone. Unconsciously, she arched toward him. He sneaked his thumb beneath the edge to stroke her skin. She whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair. How she wanted to be unbound—to run her hands against his skin in return.
His hand drifted upward to caress her through the bodice of her dress. “Does this come off?”
She nodded and raised her hands from behind his head. The closures on the front of the dress were hooks and eyes, and difficult to separate with her wrists tied together.
“Here,” he said, and with deft fingers, loosed the knotted rope. As he removed it, he circled one of her wrists with his fingers. “I wish you weren’t a...” He halted, dropping his forehead to press against hers, his breath hot on her neck. “You won’t try to escape?”
Her heartbeat thundered with such need… She could barely remember her real purpose, but she knew it wasn’t escape. She pressed her fingertips lightly to his cheek. “I won’t try to escape.”
He swooped in with a kiss that took her breath away. Alternating between forceful and gentle, his hands and his mouth covered her body with shivers of pleasure. At the actual instant of their joining, she cried out in pain, yet writhed against him in a subliminal request for more.
When he finally heaved a panting sigh and rolled onto his back, he pulled her with him, his right arm under and around her in a loose embrace. Eily felt as if he’d coaxed her soul to the surface and breathed it to life. Every one of her bones had melted. She’d never expected sex to be like that. She rested her head on his chest. He smelled warm and earthy with a hint of fresh rain. She wanted the moment to last, to sleep in his arms, and wake in his arms, and do it all again.
Would her wedding night have been like this? Her heart constricted at the thought. She’d never have a wedding night. Even if she did manage to reach her sister and the Protectorate rescued them, Gid was gone. Life as she knew it was over. Sex was nothing more than a tool now. She had to get the beacon.
It was so difficult to want to move. His beating heart tried to lure her to sleep like a lullaby. She’d kissed Jubal to incapacitate him, but she felt drunk herself. Did he feel it, too? Of course he did. He was drugged with her kisses.
She twisted her head and looked up at his profile. The scant light limned his eyelashes in silver, his face relaxed and beautiful. Maybe she could talk to him. The Protectorate could rescue not only Ana but his father, as well.
She trembled at the idea. “Jubal?”
He stroked his fingers against her bare shoulder, a slight smile lifting the corners of his lips.
The moment was broken by Rann’s voice. “I was right, wasn’t I? Magic.”
Jubal’s eyelids fluttered as he rolled his face toward the sound. “Hmmmm.”
Rann’s calloused hand gripped her wrist to pull her toward him. “My turn.”
Jubal tightened his grip around her shoulder, eyes popping open. “No.”
Rann planted a booted foot against Jubal’s hip and pulled harder. “I let you go first!”
Eily yelped as her shoulder joint strained, and Jubal released his hold. Rann fell backward, dragging her across the rocky earth so she landed across his legs. She scrambled away on hands and knees, tangled skirt slowing her progress. Her heart raced, and all previous euphoria was gone. She’d known she’d have to incapacitate both traders if she wanted the beacon, but the reality of it hadn’t hit home until this very moment.
Rann pounced on her. He straddled her and attempted to turn her to face him.
Jubal rolled to his knees, the influence of her kisses obviously affecting his reflexes. “Stop.”
Hope flooded Eily. But Jubal was moving so slowly. How could he defend her?
Rann grabbed her hands to hold them above her head. He laughed, his sour breath filling her nostrils. “I’ve been waiting for this too long.”
His weight twisted off her as Jubal’s body slammed against him. She scuttled backward with her hands and feet as the men wrestled.
“I demand my share!” Rann bucked, sending Jubal off him. He jumped to his feet.
Jubal swiped at Rann’s ankle, tripping him. “Your share came out of all the bitters you drank.”
“By the Knife!” Rann kicked at him. “How are you going to give her to Sefe if you can’t even share her with your own brother?”
Jubal halted his forward crawl. Rann kicked out again and got to his feet without taking his eyes off him.
Sitting back on his haunches, Jubal hung his head. “We can’t both be drunk at the same time.”
“Already thought of that, big brother. I trussed the others up so tight they can’t blink.”
“Oh.”
Rann stalked toward her, dropping to his knees and pushing her shoulders back to the ground. He yanked a rope from his belt and bound her hands.
“Wait,” she whimpered.
Rann crushed his mouth against hers. His hands groped at the hem of her skirt, yanking the fabric up around her hips. She twisted her face, but his teeth clamped onto her upper lip, almost hard enough to break skin.
“Be gentle,” Jubal’s voice was thick.
She fought sobs and stared up at the fathomless stars, praying it would end soon.
Chapter Nineteen
Swaying on his feet from the euphoria of Eily’s magic, Jubal clenched his hands at his sides. Be gentle? That was the best you could do? The stars spun out of alignment, righted themselves, shifted again. He tensed as Rann rucked up Eily’s dress.
You warned her you couldn’t keep her for yourself. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t leave Eily to his brother’s mercy. Two people warred inside his head—a logical trader who acknowledged his brother had a right to a share, and a jealous lover who wanted to beat Rann to a bloody pulp. In the fog from the spirit healing, Jubal stood immobile.
He managed to move his lips enough to say, “You’re hurting her.”
Rann didn’t answer, mouth still fastened against Eily’s. She whimpered, the whites of her eyes reflecting the moonlight.
Rann shoved a knee up between Eily’s legs.
Think of her as merchandise. But with her kisses a lingering memory across his l
ips and face, he couldn’t. He’d been with other women, but in the moments of intimacy with Eily, he’d been closer to her than to any other human being in his entire life. He wanted to save her. To keep her. To protect her… but he couldn’t see how. He couldn’t see a way out without choosing between her and Pops.
As his brother rose on his knees to release a knot on his breech cord, Eily twisted her head to the side, eyes squeezed closed.
A dam inside Jubal broke. In two strides he had his hands on Rann’s shoulders. “Get off.”
Rann shrugged him away, pulling aside his breech flap.
“I said stop.”
Rann batted at Jubal’s hand and lowered himself against Eily.
How could he end this? He doubted he could win a fist fight when his reflexes were weakened from her magic. And Rann wouldn’t give up even if Jubal did win. He was justified in his demands; she was a slave, and her flesh was to be shared equally between owners.
In a wisp of clarity, Jubal said, “I claim her children as mine.”
Rann jerked to a stop and twisted his head to look at his brother. “What did you say?”
Claiming a woman’s children promised her a man’s protection. It freed her from slavery. It made him her man. Confidence infused Jubal as he said it again. “I claim her children.”
“She’s a Flame Runna! And a slave!”
“Sefe claimed one. It’s been done.”
“But I own half of her.”
“I’ve never taken my share of our goods. I’m doing so now.”
Rann lurched upright with a roar. He stood straddling Eily, glaring down at her with his hands outstretched as if to strangle her, his shoulders heaving. Eily lay still, covering her breasts with her hands, eyes still shut tight. Rann spun and stalked to his bedroll. Over his shoulder, he said, “You’re a rotting hypocrite.”
Eily sat up and tugged her skirt over her exposed legs. Her hands trembled as she pulled her blouse across her breasts and refastened the hooks.