Mona Lisa Awakening m-1

by Sunny

  A child's voice roused me from my slumber the next time. Inquisitive eyes that were oddly familiar peered at me from beneath a tangle of matted brown hair that looked as if it had never known the touch of a comb. Dirt smudged her cheeks and browned the little hands that clutched a tray bearing three bowls of aromatic soup.

  "She's awake," the girl whispered.

  "Yes," Amber said, taking two bowls from her. "My thanks, Casio."

  Simple statements, simple actions, and yet not.

  My big man or little giant—both aptly described him—was acting most peculiar. Amber was such as I had never seen him before, and it finally came to me. The oddity was in the way he looked upon the wild child, the manner in which he spoke to her, in the tenderness of his tone. It was different even from the manner in which he treated me, without the wary deference or cautious constraint that usually marked his gestures and words unless he was vexed with me.

  The timid little creature brought the remaining bowl to the Queen who eyed us warily from across the room. Then she darted out, dashing quickly past Greeves, who stood leering by the door.

  "Sandoor wishes to see you and the new Queen after dinner," Greeves said to Amber. "Perchance she will serve as dessert." Laughing nastily, he shut the heavy metal door.

  I ate half of my stew and insisted that Amber partake of the other half. No wonder he had lost weight. The little meat that was in the bowl would barely sustain a woman, much less a man of Amber's size.

  "Who's Sandoor?" I asked when he had finished eating.

  "My father."

  My eyes widened in shocked surprise. "He's still alive? But I thought he raped and killed his Queen."

  "Raped, but he refrained from killing me," came a bitter voice from the far corner, the other Queen. "He wouldn't kill the golden goose that lengthens his life."

  Only there two golden gooses now. Did that make one of us expendable?

  "He made it appear as if he and I had perished and everyone apparently believed it so. Fools!" the Queen said.

  "How could he have done that?" I asked.

  "There were two piles of ashes and empty clothing," Amber explained. "That is all that usually remains when we die."

  I stared at the Queen. "How long ago?"

  "Over ten years ago," she said, her eyes burning with bitter emotion.

  God! I couldn't imagine being kept captive that long and still remaining sane.

  The door creaked open, bringing a wave of fresh air into the staleness of the room. "Outside, you two," Greeves said.

  Amber lifted me up into his arms and carried me out into the cool night. Back in the room, cloth rustled.

  "Not you, Mona Carlisse," Greeves said. "It is Balzaar's turn to see you tonight."

  I craned my neck and saw a tall, heavily built man slide in past Greeves's thin, wiry frame. The door closed behind him ominously. Greeves looked at me and smiled. The cruel lust burning in his small eyes made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Really good incentive to regain my strength.

  I pushed against Amber as he walked into the night. "I can stand," I protested.

  His arms tightened warningly around me as we entered a clearing where the other six men, and one other, a man who stood a head taller than the others, waited. Then again, I considered, looking at Amber's father, the paternal giant to my little giant. Maybe it was in my best interest to look weak and ill. Too bad it happened to be true.

  "So, she has finally awoken," boomed a deep voice. Sandoor. Amber's father. He was a big man, though less heavily framed and an inch or two shorter than his son. Silver streaked his brown hair and years of harsh, unpleasant experience lined his rough face. His blue eyes, so like his son's, were darker, harder, and much, much meaner. He felt powerful.

  "Is she sane?" Sandoor inquired in a tone that implied that it didn't mattered if I was or wasn't.

  Amber nodded.

  "That is of good fortune, although not particularly necessary." Sandoor's dark eyes fell on me like a nasty caress. "We just need the use of her body."

  They might look the same, but he was nothing like Amber.

  "She almost passed from this life. She requires a few more days'to recover fully," Amber warned in a low rumble, "or you may yet lose her."

  "Ah, yes. She is a Mixed Breed. More fragile, though quite gifted, I am told." Sandoor's dark eyes probed me, a singularly unpleasant experience. "Very well. She has one day longer before I break her in." His smile—the look in his eyes—creeped me out most ardently.

  Amber turned to go.

  "Not so readily." Sandoor's perverse words and tone stopped Amber cold and I felt renewed tension sing in the arms that held me. "I did not give you leave to go yet. Do tarry. Set her down here." He gestured to a log, which served as furniture here, apparently, in this sparse, barren domain.

  Amber placed me carefully down on the ground, propping me up against a fallen tree trunk. Much better than being supine, among this pack of wild and hungry rogues.

  "How carefully you handle her, Amber," his father mocked. "How diligently you have tended her these past six days."

  Six whole days! The revelation staggered me. No wonder I felt so weakened.

  "How tenderly you continue yet to care for her," Sandoor continued, his voice a deep, unhappy taunt. He came to tower over me.

  "That is not the manner with which we treat women here, Amber. If you are to stay amongst us, you must learn that we do not serve women, they serve us."

  "I do no more and no less than what she did for me when illness befell me," Amber returned carefully, no challenge or inflection in his words.

  "And what caused you to be ill, Amber?"

  "Mona Sera punished me by having me withstand the rays of the sun."

  "For what length of time?"

  "Four hours."

  The other bandits muttered with anger.

  "Then it was not punishment," Sandoor remarked with dangerous softness. "It was an intended execution. Not because you did not serve her well. Oh, no. You no doubt foolishly served her to the best of your ability, as we all served our Queens. And like you, we were to be rewarded for our utterly stupid loyalty, our years of thankless service, with death." Sandoor glared down at me with pure, undiluted hatred that was quite unsettling. "Why? Because inevitably we grow too strong for our Queens and threaten their power. Hundreds, thousands of our best and strongest warriors have been slaughtered under the guise of punishment, and will continue to die in this merciless manner unless we wrest control from the Queens and have them serve us."

  "Mona Lisa saved me," Amber protested.

  "Because she needed you, a vulnerable new Queen."

  "She is not like other Queens, Father."

  Sandoor smiled upon his offspring most pityingly. "Have you not learned yet, son, that they all begin most sweet. But eyes that gaze upon you with warm eagerness and affection those first few fleeting years, quickly become hard, wary, and fearful as your power grows until, alas, they banish you from their bed." He bent down to Amber, whispering into his face. "And then they destroy you."

  Sandoor drew back and raked my body with cold, hating eyes. "How sweet you must be to draw such loyalty from my son, a man fully grown, who should have learned much better by now the harsh lessons of life. And yet, most interestingly, you were able to save him, when he was but as good as dead. Show us your hands, girl."

  If that was all he wanted, I was most happy to comply. The restraints prevented me from turning my palms up, requiring me to bring my arms up and bend them at the elbows, so that my palms were displayed outward.

  "So you have the ability to heal as well as harm with those unseemly blemishes," Sandoor mused. "Perhaps we need not sever your hands, after all."

  Dear sweet God in heaven. My hands fell weakly back into my lap and curled protectively into impotent fists as fear dried my throat so that I could hardly even swallow.

  "And let us hope, for your sake, that you breed better than that other bitch and contribute so
mething more beside another useless female," Sandoor said sneeringly. A bush rustled and the little girl, Casio, who had been hiding behind it, darted away.

  And I suddenly knew why her eyes had seemed so eerily familiar. They were Amber's eyes. And Sandoor's, as well.

  "She's your daughter," I said to Sandoor, dazed by the sudden knowledge. His and Mona Carlisse's. Casio, that little shy, wild creature, was Amber's half sister.

  "She is nothing. Not a Queen or a warrior, although she may serve some use to my men in a few short years."

  Sweet lord in heaven, he meant sexually. Her own sire.

  I did not blame Sandoor or any of the other men here for fleeing their Queens, for becoming rogues. They were doing nothing more than merely surviving. Not after Sandoor's revelation, confirmed by my very own eyes and through my own mother's carefully planned actions. She had been cleaning house: killing off her most strongest threats, her most strongest men. I saw it clearly now. But I did hold Sandoor accountable for all his actions since then, for the needless unkindness that he deliberately inflicted with relish to those under his captivity, for his cruel actions to his very own flesh and blood. For that, oh yes, I held him most accountable.

  "You are a monster," I rasped. "Far worse than any Queen who may have done you wrong once."

  Sandoor's eyes narrowed in dangerous warning. "I determine whether you shall live or die. Do not forget that most pertinent fact." He whipped away, crossing to the other side of the clearing, and threw himself into the only seat present in this most rustic abode, a chair roughly hewn from wood. "Come forward to the center, Amber," he demanded from his crude throne.

  Amber rose and walked to the middle of the clearing.

  "Aquila. The lady, if you please," Sandoor said, and the man with the neatly trimmed Van Dyke beard knelt behind me and held a silver dagger to my throat.

  Sandoor smiled most unpleasantly as Amber stiffened. "Behave, and the knife shall not touch her."

  There was a deep, lusty groan and a faint feminine cry sounded in the distance. Light flashed out from beneath the door where we had been imprisoned.

  "Ah, good. Balzaar will be in attendance shortly," Sandoor said. "You may remove Amber's restraints, Romulus."

  A blond man of average height, with handsome unsmiling features, walked to Amber and began removing his cuffs. The door swung open and Balzaar emerged. Greeves secured the door with a heavy chain and both he and Balzaar joined us in the clearing. It was impossible to ignore the heavy tang of sweat and sex that clung to Balzaar's heavy frame.

  "You have been most careful around your new Queen, my strong son. She does not fear you," Sandoor said in a careful, considering voice. "And I wager she does not know the reason why she should fear you, does she, Amber? Why Mona Sera feared you. Why she wished to destroy you. I believe—yes, yes—I do believe you should enlighten her. Show her. Show all of us."

  Amber's face became set like stone.

  "Come, come. So shy," Sandoor said in a provoking tone. "Let us see if we can make it worthy of your while, then. All present here are free to challenge my son one at a time. Any who are able to defeat him may have first stab, shall we say, at the new Queen. Tonight. All night long."

  Every eye turned upon me. I felt like a helpless, tender rabbit trapped among a pack of starving wolves.

  "'If you are able to defeat all who wish to challenge you, Amber, you may remain with your Queen and let her have the rest you believe she so desperately needs one last night. If you can muster control of yourself, afterward." Sandoor smiled most nastily. "It may even be better for her if you did not win. A small consideration for you to chew over."

  I had an unpleasant feeling, like I was missing something vital again. Then it was too late. Balzaar was pulling off his clothes. Amber kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants. A prickling surge of energy and they were changing, shifting, falling onto all fours, their faces distorting, heads flattening, muzzles growing, a wash of heavy fur flowing.

  All the men backed away, including Sandoor, creating a wide circle fringing the perimeter of the clearing. Aquila lifted me to my feet, his grip unbreakable but not bruising, in that conscious strength that strong men used. He dragged me backward, almost into the trees. My legs quivered but held me upright. I damned my weakness.

  Before my eyes, in a transformation so quick and complete, Amber became a vicious mountain lion of enormous size. His civilized facade was stripped away and lethal, razor-sharp teeth glistened as he snarled savagely in that chilling, purely animalistic manner seen only in creatures most wild. Deadly muscles rippled under that sleek, tawny coat. Yet strikingly cold intelligence glittered in those crystal-clear amber eyes. Those same eyes that had looked upon me during the heat of passion. Eyes that looked so right on the vicious creature he had become.

  With a scream that curdled my blood, the big cat launched itself at the towering black bear that had risen onto his hind legs. With a roar, the bear's thick, powerful upper limbs wrapped around the cat as they rolled to the ground, with Amber's razor-sharp teeth buried in the bear's throat.

  Sharp claws slashed, a heavy blow, and blood streaked obscenely in Amber's tawny coat as he tumbled away. The cat's sharp teeth had broken through his opponent's skin, but the bear's coarse, thick hair had prevented deeper damage.

  It became a game of strategy: the mountain lion's speed, agility, and pouncing quickness against the bear's slower but more powerful strikes, deadly strength, and thick protective coat. Amber springing and attacking, again and again, slashing, biting, inflicting superficial but not serious damage. Balzaar defending, retaliating, landing fewer but more damaging hits that drew more and more blood.

  I swallowed the cries that rose to my throat with each landing blow, knowing they would serve no purpose but to distract Amber.

  Balzaar was playing a game of endurance, his greatest strength, waiting for Amber to weaken. A smart strategy, particularly when Amber's strength had already been greatly lessened by six days of slow starvation from caring for me day and night.

  The sounds of battle filled the quiet night. I turned to face Aquila and was stopped by the warning press of his blade against my skin.

  "Face forward, Lady, and kindly keep your hands lowered," he issued quietly from behind me.

  That's right. What I'd done to Miles with my hands, branding him, had apparently frightened the men enough to have Sandoor consider cutting them off.

  I shivered. We had to get out of here. Amber was fighting with body and flesh. I was too weakened to battle that way, so I would fight another way.

  There seemed to be no real meanness in Aquila, no hatred of women that I could detect, unlike Sandoor. Though I did not particularly like Sandoor, I believed without doubt what he had stated. All of these men had become too powerful for their Queens and had joined Sandoor, outcasts, rogues, because there was no other place where they could go and still live.

  I issued my invitation to Aquila in the barest of whispers. "All who come to me with an honest and willing heart, I will accept into my service."

  Battle raged before me but it was the silence behind me that held me. I knew Aquila had heard me.

  "The offer expires in twenty-four hours. Tell the others, but not Greeves or those of his ilk."

  Aquila's non-answer was answer enough. He would consider it and would not tell Sandoor—yet. It was enough for now. It had to be enough. But it was damnably hard convincing myself of that when Amber, visibly slowing, gave a screaming shriek of pain as Balzaar delivered another slashing blow and charged at his tired opponent, sensing his weakness.

  With a sudden burst of speed, Amber leaped over Balzaar and ripped at his unprotected rear. Balzaar spun around with a raging roar and slashing paws. Amber ducked, but instead of springing away he surged forward, slashing the bear's vulnerable face, blinding one eye and ripping through the tender nose. With a bellow of pain, Balzaar spun away and loped into the forest.

  The big mountain lion stood alone in the
clearing, an injured predator, flanks heaving, blood sullenly oozing from deep gouges on his left back, shoulder, and right belly, waiting for the next challenge.

  With a vicious snarl, his next challenger attacked. It was a silver wolf. Teeth clashed, claws ripped, and more blood flowed. The wolf danced around the large cat, darting in and nipping at his flanks. A powerful, retaliating blow from Amber's sharp, ripping claw and the wolf was rolling away. The wolf sprung to his feet in lightning-fast movement and leaped again. They clashed in the air, heavy bodies impacting one against the other. The wolf's teeth sank deep into Amber's throat. With a cry of fury, the big cat jerked free. Tawny fur and a chunk of meat ripped away was the price of that freedom. Blood oozed but didn't spurt.

  He missed the artery, I told my thumping heart, but it continued to hammer away mercilessly in my chest so that my head spun and the ground swayed. The hand gripping me became supportive rather than restraining. I ground my teeth and desperately clung to consciousness with dogged determination. I would not faint.

  With a sudden pounce, Amber grabbed the wolf by the throat. With casual, almost disdainful strength, he threw the smaller animal in the air. The animal sailed for some distance—his blood did spurt—and landed ten feet away with a yelp of pain. Tail tucked down between his legs, he fled into the woods, leaving behind a trail of pumping blood.

  There was no waiting in the next attack. A flash of spotted fur rushed at Amber. It was Greeves. Top-heavy Greeves, whose big head and wide shoulders looked quite natural in his other form—a massive hyena with a most frightening, smiling grimace twisting that intelligent face. His weaker hindquarters were compensated by his massive head and powerful jaws. He attacked with sly cunning, darting in with sudden lunges, teeth snapping, pulling back, circling, twisting, and lunging again each time Amber evaded those deadly jaws.

  Hyenas were better known as scavengers and carrion feeders. People often forgot that they were active and skilled predators in their own right. I knew I would never forget that oft-overlooked fact as I fixed my eyes upon those vicious teeth, dark pigmented lips curled back in a sly, snarling smile.