by Vivian Leigh
And then all was still. Dan slipped his dick out of her ass and Scott lifted her off him and lay her on her back on the pallet beside him.
Scott stood over her prone form and winked at her. In a blink he shifted from man to wolf. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he trotted to the covering blocking the mouth of the cave and ducked under it and out into the daylight.
“Some romantic he is,” Kelli said.
Dan snorted. “He is what is. A big, dumb animal.”
Kelli went to her original pallet and pulled on her pants. “So what now? The search parties will surely be out with the dawn.”
“I imagine you’re right. I’ll take you back to your plane. The Luongos won’t return until nightfall.”
“And if no one finds me today?”
“I’ll escort you back here in the evening, if you like.”
Kelli followed him to the entrance and out into the light. She shivered when she reached the clearing in front the cave. It was as if a spell had been lifted. She remembered what she had just done, but it was like it had happened to someone else and she had just been watching.
“The search party will find me.”
Dan shrugged. “If you say so. Follow me.” He shifted into a wolf and led her back toward the plane and back toward reality.
###
Captured by Werewolves
Smoke boiled over the houses on the eastern side of town. Margaux pulled her scarf tighter around her nose, trying to keep the acrid odor at bay. Coins rattled in her purse as she ran. It wasn’t much, but it would help when—if—she actually reached Guilder. There wasn’t much hope left in the town, but she still clung to a thread. She had a little gold in her pocket and passage on a ship. The Pretender’s army boiled through the breaches in the eastern wall and the only thing keeping them from her part of the city was the smoke and the distance.
Yassine ran ahead of her, and her eyes followed his lithe figure. She watched his uniform and cloak bounce and twist as he glided over the cobblestones. The army wouldn’t be happy when they realized he was gone, but there wouldn’t be much of the army left in a day or two, anyway. Further ahead, a ship’s boy led them through the city’s alleys toward the docks.
Gods, let the ship still be there, she thought. Her father hadn’t managed to do much in the last days before the city fell, but he’d gotten them booked onto a merchant ship captained by one of his former protégés. Then he’d caught an arrow in the throat before the papers for their passage had arrived. Just moments ago the runner had come, asking where she was and telling her they were leaving within the hour.
She stumbled out of the alley, trying to keep up with Yassine and her messenger. There, at the end of the furthest pier, men scurried through the rigging of a ship. She recognized it as a three-masted brig, her father’s education about his trading business actually doing her some good for a change. She raced across the cobblestone pier, dodging clumps of soldiers on one side and clumps of horse dung on the other. She wished she had Yassine’s grace and stamina.
At least the crowds are gone. The soldiers glared at them, and one even started after Yassine, but a man in armor didn’t have a chance at running him down, not with his lead. They hardly even noticed her.
She left the soldiers behind and wove onto the pier itself. Coils of tarry rope and the shattered remains of crates littered her path. She dodged what she could and leapt what she couldn’t. Finally, she came to a panting halt at the foot of the gang plank.
“What do we have here?” a burly sailor asked. He slapped a thick length of something—bone or wood, Margaux couldn’t tell—against his palm. Whatever it was, he looked like he knew how to use it.
“The girl the cap’n told me to fetch,” the messenger boy said. He darted up the plank and disappeared beyond the rail.
“Yassine Renard,” Yassine said. “King’s Cavalry.”
“Margaux Gavois,” she said. She bent over, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Yassine helped her to her feet and wrapped a protective arm around her.
“Ah, the famous swordsman, fleeing like a rat.” He chuckled. “Can’t say I blame you.” He looked at Margaux. “Do you have luggage, miss?”
“Your boy said the ship was ready to sail. We came as fast as we could.”
“Well, get on the ship. There’s no time to go back for it now.”
The sailor followed them up the plank. She stepped onto the deck and swept her eyes across the ship. Wiry men climbed through the rigging like monkeys in the king’s zoo while others unwound ropes and did sailorly things she didn’t understand. Everyone looked like they moved with purpose.
An older, better attired man descended a narrow staircase and approached her. “Miss Gavois, a pleasure to see you again. I regret most terribly to hear of your father.”
“As do I, Captain. Thank you for taking us.”
“It is the least I could do for the daughter of Laurant Gavois.” He glanced at Yassine. “Mr. Arnaud?”
Yassine nodded.
“Welcome to the Sea Hart. I am Captain Smyth.” He bowed. “Margaux, where is your luggage?”
She returned his bow. “There wasn’t time. I brought a change of clothes.”
“I see.” He wrung his hands. “We’ll do everything we can to make the passage easier for you.”
“Thank you, captain.”
“Very well then,” the captain said. “The bo’sun will show you to your cabin. I regret that you’ll have to share with another passenger.”
“Share?”
“Aye, I’m sorry. I loved your father, miss, but I have to look after the ship, you understand.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“There we are.” He spun on his heel and strode away, bellowing orders to the sailors as he went.
“This way,” the sailor with the cudgel said.
Margaux followed him, nervous and excited all at once.
***
The wind blew the hem of her dress tight against her legs, but Margaux focused on the sailor before her. He held his sword up in front of him, circling her, looking for an opening.
“Stop,” Yassine said. He stepped between them. “Bo’sun, you had her. She let her tip fall low and left. Strike, man. Strike.”
“Yes, lieutenant,” the older man said.
“Margaux, you have to keep the sword up and ready,” Yassine told her. He tweaked her bottom, making her jump. “It doesn’t matter how heavy it seems.”
She shot him a fake glare. “Okay,” she said. She hefted the wooden sword again, her arms burning with the effort.
As soon as Yassine stepped out of the way, she lunged and jabbed Bo’sun Murray in his meaty shoulder. She grinned. “Too slow, bo’sun.”
“That’s not fair, lass.” He appealed to Yassine. “She didn’t even wait for you to say ‘ready.’”
Yassine shrugged. “Combat isn’t fair. A point to the lady. Swords up. Swords ready. Fight.”
The bo’sun lunged for her, but she saw it coming by before he ever moved. His eyes and his hips gave him away. She danced aside, laughing. “Too slow!”
Margaux tried to slice him along the thigh, but he blocked her with his sword and forced her back. He swung at her faster and faster, forcing her across the deck. There was no malice in his eyes, but she could see his will to win. He had the grace of an ox, but he was three times her size, so she took care to stay away from his weapon.
“Bo’sun Murray, I need you at the wheel,” the captain called down from the deck above.
The bo’sun sighed and lowered his sword. “I had you on the run, lass. And nearly out of deck.”
Margaux grinned. “Divine providence, sir. I’ll take my victories any way I can get them.” She pranced back across the deck and wrapped her arms around Yassine. “Am I doing better?”
“You’re doing amazingly well, dear,” he said. “For a merchant’s daughter.”
She pushed him away and shot him a fake glare. “For a merchant�
�s daughter? You watch your words, sir, or I’ll have to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”
Yassine bowed. “I’m at your service, mademoiselle. I see Giselle near the bow. Shall we take that lesson in our cabin now or…”
The bo’sun thumped down beside them. “Folks, we have a real ship-tosser of a storm brewing. When it gets closer, we’ll need the ladies to stay in their cabin.”
“What do you need me to do?” Yassine asked.
“I’ll be running the deck. If you could help the captain hold the wheel, we’d be mighty appreciative.”
“Of course,” Yassine said.
“Do we really need to stay in our cabin?” Margaux asked.
“It’s safest, miss. Everyone on deck will be lashed to something. A storm like this can get mighty rough.”
Margaux nodded. “I’ll go tell Giselle.”
***
The ship pitched forward, sending the hammock swaying dangerously close to the cabin wall. Thunder rumbled over the ship, and Margaux knew the rain had to be pouring, though she couldn’t hear it over the crash of the waves.
“Are you sure this is smart?” Margaux asked their cabin-mate.
“Stay in your hammock,” Giselle said. “We’ll just get in the way if we leave the cabin. Probably get swept away if we go on deck.”
“Do you think the cook has anything we could eat?”
“In weather like this? Nothing but bread and salt pork, probably.”
“Oh.” Margaux squeezed her hands around the hammock. Her stomach ached. The ship’s bread was hardly edible, and she’d barely nibbled at it for the day the storm had raged. The ship groaned as another wave slammed into it, and wood popped and creaked beneath them.
Be safe, Yas. Don’t do anything foolish.
The hammock swung toward the rear of the cabin as the front of the ship pitched upward. A great bone-shattering crunch reverberated through the ship.
“We’re breached,” Giselle cried. “We have to get out!” She clawed at her hammock and threw her legs over the side.
“But Yassine!”
“There’s no time for him. We need to get off this ship before it breaks up.”
“Did we run aground?” Oh Gods, Yassine, don’t die on me.
“We must have.” Water seeped under the door of the cabin. “Out. Now.”
Margaux let the other woman duck under her hammock, then clambered after her. Water rushed into the cabin as Giselle opened the door. It grew from ankle high to knee high as they sloshed through it, desperately trying to reach the ladder to the deck. Timbers groaned. The ship shook beneath them.
Giselle practically flew up the ladder. She hammered her fists against the hatch. “It’s stuck.”
Margaux frantically looked around. The water was nearly to her waist. “What should we do?”
“The captain’s cabin.” Giselle eschewed the ladder for a straight leap. She splashed down beside Margaux. She plucked at Margaux’s arm and dragged her along behind her as she waded back the way they’d come.
Margaux couldn’t tell if the rumble was thunder or the ship itself, but a deep wall of sound washed over them as they waded toward the cabin. Something in her bones told her that the ship was about to come apart. The water level dropped even as the crashing sound of waves grew louder. The door to the captain’s cabin hung open from a skewed frame. Giselle tugged it open as far as she could. It was enough for her to squeeze through the gap and for Margaux to follow.
The captain’s cabin had a window that stretched across the rear of the ship. Well, it used to have—the window lay shattered across the floor. Broken shards of glass hung in the opening. Waves rushed by beyond the frame, passing from right to left. The ship groaned again.
“We’re beached alright,” Giselle said.
“What do we do?”
“We get off this ship. Can you swim?”
Margaux’s eyes grew wide. “A little.”
Giselle held out her hand. “We’re going out that window. Hold onto me. I’ll help.”
Margaux nodded. I’m going to die. She felt guilty for thinking of herself first. Forgive me, Yas.
“Take a deep breath as you jump. One. Two. Three.”
They sprinted forward and leapt through the open window. The wind whistled past Margaux’s ears. She watched the water race up to meet her and never saw the wave that crashed into her from the side.
Cold. Wet. Gasping. Sputtering. Choking. Darkness.
***
“Wake up.” The voice seemed distant, blurry. Something slapped her across the face. “Margaux! Wake UP!”
Margaux blinked her eyes open. Giselle stood over her, her face in a rictus of fear. “I…” Margaux began, but couldn’t continue. She spewed water onto the beach. She felt like she was drowning all over again, so she rolled to her hands and knees. Her stomach heaved as she hacked and coughed and gagged. The sea still raged behind her; waves crashed into the shore as thunder rumbled overhead. Rain spit down, adding insult to her soaking injury.
“Thank the gods, you’re alive.” Giselle patted her on the back, waiting for her to finish.
“Did anyone else make it?”
“There are tracks, but I don’t think they’re from any survivors.”
“Yassine?”
“No sign of him.”
Margaux’s heart fell. He’ll make it. He’s strong and smart and… and storms don’t care. She looked around the beach, hoping for any sign of him, but only finding crashing waves and empty sand. She took Giselle’s hand and let the other woman pull her to her feet. She pushed a hand through her hair and tossed aside a slimy strand of seaweed. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know. It could be Guilder. It could even be Florin.” She shuddered. “We need to get off the beach. Come on.”
It took all she could muster, but Margaux followed Giselle into the tree line. She wanted to wait and watch; to give Yassine every chance to find her. Rain still wormed its way through the canopy, but it fell as drips rather than a steady torrent. “Are we going to setup camp?” Margaux asked.
Giselle stopped and hunched over, her hands on her knees. “We should. We need to build a fire and dry out. We can look for survivors in the morning.”
“Okay.” Margaux looked around. “What do I need to do?”
“Have you ever slept outside?”
“No.”
Giselle sighed. “Find any wood you can that’s already on the ground. The drier the better.”
Dry wood in this rain? “Alright.” She pushed her way through the underbrush, searching for firewood. She felt so helpless in the woods. She was a city girl, a merchant’s daughter. At least I have Giselle.
An hour of searching and dragging resulted in a sizable pile. The woods were getting too dark to keep looking for more. Giselle produced a tiny knife and somehow lit them a fire in the shelter of the tree.
“What are we going to eat?” Margaux asked.
“That’s a fine question. We can search the beach in the morning. Maybe some ship’s stores will wash ashore.”
“That sounds g—”
Something cracked in woods. Giselle’s head jerked up. She gripped the knife and stared into the trees in the direction of the sound.
“What was—”
“Shh,” Giselle said.
A rough hand wrapped around Margaux’s mouth. Another wrenched her arm behind her back and twisted it painfully. “Mmmghmm.” She kicked her feet and tried to pull away. Wide eyed, she glanced over at Giselle. A roughly dressed man with thick arms and a thicker beard had the other girl in a headlock similar to her own.
“Well, well, a pair o’ young pretties, all alone in me woods.” A younger, less hairy man strode out of the trees. He stopped on the other side of their fire and looked them over. The leer on his face made Margaux’s stomach twist. That is not a nice man.
“Can we take them here, boss? Or should we, err, take them back home?”
“On your feet, wenches,” the
younger man, clearly their leader, said. “We’ll take them back home. I don’t think anything will come looking for these two, not judging by the ship on yonder rock. I’m surprised these rats managed to drag themselves to shore.”
The hand around Margaux’s mouth loosened its grip. She sucked in a deep breath, the better to scream for help. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe Yassine and some sailors had escaped.
“I wouldn’t, princess,” the leader said. “All you’ll do is annoy me.”
“HEL—”
A fist crashed into her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. She gasped for breath. The leader stood right in front of her. He had somehow covered ten feet in a fraction of a second.
“Who are you?” Giselle asked.
“I’m your new master,” the leader said.
***
Margaux shivered, the cold breeze chilling her still damp dress. Yassine, where are you? She sobbed quietly, trying not to draw more attention to herself. In the course of a week her whole life had been turned upside down. First her father, then the shipwreck, and now this group of… of brigands. The fear left her nearly paralyzed. She couldn’t tell if the hard ache in stomach was fear or hunger or both. Probably both, she decided.
The sound of fat dripping into the fire and sizzling on the coals didn’t help, either. They made her stomach rumble. The smell of cooking pork filled her nose and made her mouth water. She rubbed her hands against the cave wall, trying to loosen the rope that bound her wrists. She didn’t dare hope she could actually escape, but maybe loosening them would bring back some of the feeling to her hands.
Deeper in the cave the sounds of feral rutting emerged. The leader had dragged Giselle into the darkness half an hour before, and the other girl’s cries of fear had been replaced with her panting breath and a wet slapping sound.
One of her captors stood in the mouth of the cave. He noisily sucked at a haunch of meat as he stared at her. “You’re next, you know. The master always insists he go first with the new girls. Then he lets the rest of us take turns.”
“And what if I fight? Will you just beat me and fuck me?”
He shrugged. “I reckon. It’s not so bad here, you know. Once you get used to it I mean. The other girls don’t seem to mind too much.”