Beast of Burden

by Alexandra Christian

  “My lord,” Neesa began, taking a tentative step toward Marek. “Let us not fight…”

  “You would do well to keep your tongue behind your teeth, woman,” Cianan warned. “I’m not so enamored of your wiles.”

  She stopped short, her breath catching.

  Ioin backed up, desperately trying to put some distance between him and Marek. “Please, Cianan...she seduced me. You know I could never resist the advances of one so beautiful as she.”

  “Save it!” he shouted, making Ioin visibly jump. “I saw her wounds! Obviously, she wanted you so badly that you had to beat her!” He accented his words with a blow to Ioin’s face.

  “You have it wrong, my friend!” he sputtered, his hand going to his eye. “I was merely fighting her off. I didn’t want the little bitch to ruin our friendship!”

  “I don’t believe you,” Cianan answered, his voice strained with contained anger. The lines of his jaw stood out in sharp relief, and his eyes flashed with something inhuman.

  “I can promise you, my friend. She begged me to make her one of my Syban. To take her away with me tonight.” Cianan’s fist was bowed, but he pulled it back slowly. “Cianan...we’ve been friends for too long. You must believe me!”

  “Stop!” Neesa interjected. “Let us go, my master. Lest you say something you might regret.”

  Ioin turned on the girl angrily. “Shut up! You forget your place, Syban!”

  “I can’t let you do this, master. He will kill her—” Her words were cut short with a heavy backhand that sent her reeling.

  “Then she may not be the only dead slave left here tonight,” Ioin hissed. He drew back his arm to hit her again and was stopped with Cianan’s fist.

  “If there’s any bloodshed here tonight, it will be yours, Lescoux.”

  Ioin rounded on him, still reeling from the blow. He took a couple of sloppy swings at him, but only succeeded in falling over his trunk.

  “You should be thanking me, Cianan,” he panted, using the heel of the bed to pull himself up. Neesa rushed over to help him, but he pushed her away, making her fall down on her knees. “One day you’ll see her for what she really is!” Without warning, he launched himself at Cianan, grabbing him by the shoulders and taking them both down to the ground. They wrestled around, knocking furniture over as they went, and throwing random punches. Neesa cried out for them to stop as she backed away, but to little avail. Ioin untangled himself from the melee and managed to rise to his knees before bringing his fist down on the bridge of Cianan’s nose. “One day you’ll see what a fool you are!”

  Getting his feet under Ioin’s ribcage, Cianan pushed him backward clumsily. “You’re right. I am a fool.” He grunted, kicking him hard in the side. “For ever calling you my friend.”

  “I’m the only friend you have,” he replied, spitting blood over his shoulder as he dodged the next blow. “And you used to be just like me, old friend. That whore has blinded you!” he yelled. He put up his hands defensively, backing away. “You think no one else sees it? She’s some kind of witch, wearing some kind of spell to look like Bella. But she’s not Bella, coming to save you from your pathetic misery.”

  “You’re on dangerous ground, Lescoux.” Cianan hissed, his eyes narrowing to amber slits. “Keep her name from your lips.”

  “Do you think Bella was faithful to you all that time we were in the Outlands? Two years you left her a war widow, closed up in this castle like a nun in a cloister waiting for you. Bella was just like any other woman. A whore. That slave up there is no different,” he shouted, gesturing toward the door. “Maybe I did want to fuck her. At least I wouldn’t have been pretending she was my dead wife.”

  An inhuman roar seemed to shake the stone walls, making Neesa scream, putting her hands over her ears. In a blur of black smoke and shimmer, Cianan leapt at Ioin, his skin bursting open to reveal an enormous black wolf. Neesa screamed when he bellowed again, landing atop Ioin and pinning him down with two heavy paws on his shoulders. Its teeth were bared and Ioin could see the glistening, hungry saliva dripping from the fangs as it growled threateningly at him.

  “Neesa...do something...” Ioin said calmly, staring into the face of the animal.

  She moved slightly and the beast howled, making Neesa drop to her belly again. Ioin thought he could use the distraction to scramble away, but the beast was cunning and grabbed him by the thigh as he tried to slide from beneath him. Neesa screamed as she watched him tear into Ioin’s flesh, blood splattering in every direction and quickly turning the rug beneath them to red.

  “Help!” Neesa shrieked over the wolf’s roar. Ioin began to scream as Cianan grabbed him by the shoulder, his teeth sinking in to the bone. He began jerking his head back and forth, tearing the tendons apart with his teeth.

  “Help me, Neesa!” Ioin wailed, tearing his arm from the wolf’s grasp.

  But Cianan wouldn’t be deterred and went at him again with renewed vigor. This time, Ioin was anticipating and grabbed his muzzle, turning him away with all the strength he could muster from the ruins of his wounded arm. “Please...hurry!” he pleaded.

  Neesa shrieked again and ran for the door. She jerked open the door and Kali and Vasilia stood in the corridor, their faces awash with fear and confusion.

  “What’s happening?” Kali hissed, grabbing at Neesa’s arm.

  “Just run!” she shouted, shoving them down the corridor.

  Ioin delivered a kick to the wolf’s flanks, sending it sprawling. It was enough time for him to get to the door, holding his arm. “You’ll pay for this, Marek!” he shouted, though the fear in his voice was apparent. The threat was met with a final deafening roar of triumph that sent them all screaming down the stairs to where their carriage waited below.

  Chapter 13

  “‘orrible man, that one,” Anya complained as she worked swiftly to wrap Sascha’s ankle. “I dread every time he comes to visit. We’ve never been able to keep a chambermaid.”

  “He’s done this before?” Sascha asked in disbelief.

  “He’s never not succeeded. The last one got pregnant with his bastard child.” Anya shook her head. “But none of them would ever tell Cianan. You know how hard it is to tell him anything. Course I think there might have been some threatening involved.” She tied the first bandage tightly before looking up again. “You were lucky Cianan was bathing nearby.” Her mouth was a hard line, and Sascha was sure she knew about her new master’s condition.

  “Yes. Very.” In that moment, it became clear that this was a secret to be kept and denied with ferocity, even unto themselves.

  Anya worked on, dabbing at another wound with the healing salve before wrapping it up. “I don’t think it’s broken, but you sure gave it a good turn.”

  “Will I be able to walk tomorrow?” she asked timidly. It was never a good thing for a slave to be helpless.

  “Probably not unassisted,” the old woman replied. “But don’t worry about that now. You’ll be taken care of.” She smiled warmly and patted Sascha’s knee before continuing with her work.

  The minutes passed silently, save the occasional snore from Kincade, who’d long since fallen asleep in his chair. Anya sniffed with seeming contempt, but Sascha could see the corners of her mouth turned up, smiling with amusement. “That codger sounds like an old hound dog.”

  Sascha grinned. “I think he’s wonderful.”

  “I suppose he’ll do. I’m used to him by now. We’ve both worked for this family since we were children.” She tied the next knot in the wrappings so tightly that Sascha gasped. “Oh...sorry.”

  “He’s a kind, old man. He was telling me about Lady Isabella.”

  Anya stopped, staring down at her hands, not wanting to meet Sascha’s eyes. “And what did he say?”

  “Not a lot. Just that he knew her family.”

  “Most did. They were well liked in Falkin. Her mother and father, I mean. Just poor farmers, but always kind and charitable. Always willing to help a neighbor.”


  “He mentioned that she had a twin sister.”

  “Oh he did?” Anya asked, her voice sounding both nervous and annoyed. She looked over at the sleeping Kincade with her eyes narrowed. “Who is she?”

  “My mother.”

  Anya stopped instantly and dropped the bandages in her hands. “Oh really? What a coincidence.”

  “You knew that.” Anya’s mouth opened as if she wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. “Didn’t you?”

  The old woman sighed. “Well, what if I did? What difference does it make now? It was so long ago.”

  “Bella was my aunt! Don’t you think I would want to know something like that?”

  “I’ve only told you what I’ve been permitted to tell you. And besides, she died before you were born.”

  “Mr. Kincade also mentioned that my father was still alive.”

  Anya shook her head and went back to wrapping Sascha’s ankle. “The old fool’s tongue seems to be loose at both ends,” she mumbled. “His stories will only serve to confuse you.”

  “Anya, if my father is still alive, I have to see him.”

  “Why on earth would you want to do that?” she snapped. “He sold you to another man to settle a debt!”

  “He had no choice. Longwillow told me that he was trying to save me from being a slave to Lord Marek.”

  “And it worked so well.”

  Both women gasped at the new voice and turned to see Lord Marek standing in the doorway. Sascha’s breath caught as she got a look at him in the firelight. His hair was tousled and tumbled down over his shoulders. He had thrown on a pair of pants, but was bare-chested, the grotesque scar over his breast glistening in the shadows. Sascha remembered she’d seen him nude earlier in the forest and blushed. She had the fleeting thought that she wished she’d paid more attention. If only she’d been less afraid. He came into the light fully, and she could see that there was fresh blood at the corner of his mouth and a gash over one eye.

  “Are you all right, my lord?” Anya asked.

  “I always am, Anya,” he answered simply, his eyes never leaving Sascha, who lay atop his bed wrapped in blankets.

  “You’re hurt, master,” Sascha whispered, finding her voice finally.

  “A tiny scrape. Nothing to worry about,” he replied, shaking Mr. Kincade’s shoulder gently to wake him. The old man started and Marek nodded, indicating that he could go. “Leave us, please, Anya.”

  “But Sascha’s wounds. I haven’t finished dressing them.”

  “I’ll finish. Go rest.”

  Anya looked from Marek to Sascha and back. “Thank you, my lord.” She rose from the bed and patted Sascha’s knee reassuringly. “I’ll be in my quarters, should you need anything.”

  Marek nodded, but said no more until the door closed and they were alone.

  “Are you all right, Sascha?” he asked as he moved toward the bed.

  She nodded, moving her leg aside to let him sit beside her. “Just sore. My head and ankle mostly.”

  “I’m afraid you might be sore for a few days.” He took her hand, examining the bruising around her wrists and the scratches along her arm raised by the struggling in the underbrush. “I am so sorry, Sascha. I should never have left him here with you.”

  “You didn’t know, my lord,” she answered softly, breathing slowly through each small caress of his fingertips. “But thank you. You saved my life, I think.”

  He raised his hand in a casual gesture. “It was nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing,” she said softly. “You were brave to show yourself to me...you know...like that.”

  “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before looking away. “I never wanted you to see me like that. I never wanted you to fear me, Sascha.”

  “I’m not afraid, my lord,” she whispered, touching the back of his hand with a cautious fingertip. “As was proven earlier, often men who appear to be beasts are less beastly than those who look most unassuming. I think I’d rather meet a werewolf in the forest than Lord Lescoux.” She dropped her head, suddenly very interested in the backs of her hands. She prayed she hadn’t offended him by speaking so freely about someone that was supposed to be his friend. She looked up from under her lashes shyly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak ill of your friend, my lord.”

  “He is obviously no friend of mine,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her brow with gentle fingertips.

  “I did not wish to come between you.”

  “None of this is your fault, Sascha,” Cianan answered with a stony gaze into her eyes. “There’s nothing you could have done to prevent it. Nor did you incite it.” Pulling his stare away from her, he took up the bandages lying at her feet and began to finish Anya’s work. He pulled the first tightly and Sascha gasped. “Sorry. My hands can be rough sometimes.”

  She nodded and tried to smile.

  After a few moments, she spoke again. “I’m not ignorant of Outland custom with their slaves, my lord. At The Golden Goblet we saw many slave traders come through on their way to the markets in Falkin. But I...just...I’ve never...” Sascha’s voice choked on a new torrent of tears that came in a wave too quickly for her to swallow. She bit her lip angrily at being so weepy. Her eyes were so sore and swollen that she’d thought there was no way she could cry anymore. Yet here she was a blubbering mess in front of Cianan again. “He just scares me so!” she spat finally, trying to hide her face from his stoic expression. “Please don’t make me see him again. I will keep in my chambers until they are gone, anything that you ask.” She knew she sounded hysterical with her pathetic begging, but she couldn’t stop herself. Before she knew it, she’d thrown herself into his embrace again. This time, he accepted her with no hesitation.

  “Sascha,” he whispered into her tangled hair, brushing it away from her face in a gesture of affection. “Please don’t cry anymore. I’m not very good at comfort, I’m afraid.”

  She didn’t respond, but held onto him tighter, inhaling the scent of the forest air that still clung to his skin. As long as he kept his arms around her, she felt safe. The nightmarish memories of her encounter with Lescoux would fade and maybe she’d be able to sleep again. He had shown earlier that he would protect her. Even from himself.

  “As for Ioin,” he continued, his voice gravelly in her ear. “You needn’t worry about him. He won’t ever set foot inside my house again. He’s already gone.”

  Sascha looked up at him in disbelief. “But…”

  “I won’t keep company with someone who would attack my mate.”

  Mate. The word hit Sascha like a pile of stones. Her body went rigid in his arms and she pulled back instinctively. “Your mate?” she croaked.

  “Does it disturb you to know that’s what you are?”

  Her mouth worked wordlessly, unsure of what to say. What could she say to that? She could only shake her head in disbelief. “Not exactly,” she said after a few moments. “I’m just not sure what you mean.”

  Cianan smiled, using his fingertips deftly to tie the final bandage. “You’re my mate. You’ve been marked since the day you were born.”

  “But,” she stammered. “You barely know me.”

  “I know you much better than you think, little one.” He was finished wrapping her ankle, but still held her calf in his hand, stroking the skin absently as he spoke. “Remember those roses your father used to bring you?”

  “Of course.” She smiled at the memory. “Every week when he returned from the markets. He never told me where they came from.”

  “I gave you the first one myself. You were nine days old.”

  Sascha laughed. “Forgive me, my lord. But that would be impossible. You couldn’t have been more than ten years old yourself.”

  “Forty.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I was forty years old the winter of your birth.”

  “But that would make you at least sixty.”

  “Sixt
y-one.”

  “But, you don’t look a day over thirty.”

  “I’m a werewolf, Sascha.” He looked as if he searched for the right words to explain his condition upon the walls. “We don’t age as others do.”

  She stared at him a moment, her eyes wide with wonder. “Will you live forever?” Her voice was laced with awe.

  “Perhaps.” He grinned. “I haven’t lived forever yet.”

  She went silent, taking in everything he’d said. Could it be possible that he would be immortal? To live forever without aging a day? “Such a gift,” she said finally. “To see the world change around you. Knowing that the whole world is at your feet.”

  “It is a curse,” he snapped. He stood up quickly and she flinched, sure she had ignited his rage once again. “Knowing each day that all that I love will eventually turn to ash and dust. Watching their bodies wither and fade while I stay trapped in this unchanging skin.” His jaw was set in a hard line, and she could tell he was trying desperately to keep his temper. “And though I know you’re my mate, can feel it with every breath I take, I already grieve for your fragility. Our time is too short.” He turned away from her, gazing out the window at the cliffs below. “Too short.”

  Sascha watched him move with a fascination she couldn’t explain. He was so beautiful and strange. His melancholy consumed him utterly, betraying his strength, but nonetheless alluring in his splendor. When he turned his fiery eyes to hers again, she could see the longing he felt and knew that what he’d said was true. She was his mate. “You mustn’t dwell on that which cannot be changed, my lord. Your very existence is proof of magic in this world.”

  Cianan laughed darkly. “You are so very much like Bella. Even under the deepest cloak of darkness, she could see the light.” He smiled again. “Her soul shines so brightly within you. I’ve always felt it.”

  “You can feel me?” Sascha asked, desperate to understand.

  “Of course. When I close my eyes and quiet my thoughts, I can feel your heart beating. Hear your breath. Smell your scent. It’s how I found you in the forest.”