“Say it,” he said. His voice was like coarse sand against the windowpane. She could tell he was becoming just as desperate as she. “I need to hear you say it, Sascha.”
“Yes, my lord.” She panted. “I love you.” The words were barely from her lips when he drove into her fully once more. The movement was so violent that for a moment, she feared she would be ripped in two, but the mixture of pleasure and pain when he began to move deep within her more than made up for it. Every subtle twist set her insides on fire, but she craved it and arched up to meet him for more. She was afraid of losing the contact, afraid he would slip outside of her and never return, but he wouldn’t allow it. He got his hands under her ass and was able to steer her body how he liked. Her body shuddered and she screamed his name, biting down on his shoulder to hold back more as she came.
“Sascha,” he repeated over and over, his lips against her temples. “My precious pet.” His body lay atop hers for a long time, waiting for the shudders of completion to subside. She sighed with contentment, enjoying the feel of his weight, the gentle throb of her sex around his still pulsing cock. But after another few moments, she became increasingly aware that her hands, so long suspended over her head, had become completely numb. She shifted with an uncomfortable groan. “Cianan... Master...”
“Yes?” He breathed against her neck, his lips feathering light kisses.
“Could you...maybe...” She said no more, but pulled at the bonds over her head. “My hands...”
He rolled over to her side and pulled at first one silk knot around the bedpost then the other until they slipped off, letting her dead hands fall to her sides. “I have to show you something.” He kissed each bound and sore wrist before rising from the bed. He pulled on last night’s pants quickly and tossed his discarded shirt in her direction. “Get dressed.”
Sascha looked from the shirt to Cianan and back again. “I can’t go out of this room wearing only this.”
“You’re with me. You can do whatever you like. Now put it on.” There was no mirth in his voice this time, and she decided she’d better take heed. As she pulled on the shirt, she tried to untie the ropes still around her wrist.
“No,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Those stay for now.”
She nodded and allowed him to lead her from the room. They started down the dark corridor and Sascha shivered. She kept a hold on his arm as he led her down the stairs, it being so dark. “Where are we going?”
“To the cellar.”
“But I thought I was never to go into the cellar.”
“I reserve the right to change my mind,” he replied simply. “Do you have the key I gave you?” He stopped, staring down at her with a stern expression. Her jaw dropped and she looked up guiltily.
“I…well…”
Cianan narrowed his eyes in an ominous expression. “I told you never to take it off.”
“Well, but…”
“Of course you don’t have it, silly.” He hugged her close, breathing softly against her temple. “I was sure to take every bit of your clothing off.” With his other hand, he dangled the key on his fingertip just above her nose. “But don’t worry. I have it.” He pulled her aside to unlock the heavy door that led into the cellar.
The door opened onto an uneven stone staircase that spiraled downward. It was difficult to see as the only light came from a small lantern over the top step, so Sascha held onto Cianan’s arm tightly. The air was cool and moist and the thin shirt Sascha wore didn’t offer much warmth. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, she was shivering, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“We should have dressed you better,” he commented, trying to shove the key into the keyhole one-handed.
“Pardon me, my lord,” she began, emphasizing her words with a sarcastic tone. “I thought when you threw me your shirt that you meant for me to wear it.” She gazed up at him, a sweet smile on her lips both innocent and defiant.
“You’re very brave, little one,” he replied, his tone teasing. “Pity I don’t have the time to punish you just now.” He growled, scooping her into his arms and pushing through the door.
“Perhaps later.” She sighed, brushing her lips across his, never severing contact as they made their way across the cold cellar. She smelled the sharp scent of sulfur as Cianan struck a match and went about lighting the lanterns around the room. As the room lit up, she could see that though it was a bit rustic, like everything else in the house, it was lavishly furnished. A small fireplace sat on one end of the room to heat a large seating area with a couch and several rugs. He set her on her feet in front of the fire and motioned toward the chair closest.
“Sit there. You’ll need to be warm.”
As he ducked around a corner, her eyes were everywhere, scanning the expanse of this forbidden place. She wondered why she’d never been allowed to come in here. But as her eyes alighted on the portrait hanging over the fireplace, she understood. The nude woman in the painting stared down at her through her own eyes. She was Sascha’s copy in every way, masses of black hair against pale skin, green eyes, the slight hint of freckles across the nose. It was as if the artist had been painting a portrait of her. She leaned forward and squinted at the engraved name plate at the bottom of the gilded frame. “Lady Isabella Caoimhe Marek,” she read slowly under her breath. It was Bella. Her breath caught in amazement. She’d remembered her father saying that she was so much like her aunt, but she’d had no idea they were doubles. There was something so sad in her eyes. She looked lonely.
Cianan came back, something clattering against the floor behind him, breaking her reverie. She started, sitting back on the couch nervously. “You startled me,” she said.
“I apologize,” he replied, sitting down beside her and pulling a tangled pile of silvery rope onto the couch beside him. She noticed that despite his attire, he was wearing heavy leather gloves and gauntlets. The effect was so comical that she almost laughed, but his solemn expression quieted her humor. “You must pay very close attention to what I’m about to show you, Sascha. There isn’t any room for error.”
“Of course, my lord.” She nodded, noticing there was a glimmer of fear in the corners of his eyes. She wanted to know more, but was afraid to ask. “Anything you ask of me.”
“You asked me when you first came here what I would ask of you. This is the only task I will charge you with and you must learn to do it well.” Sascha nodded and watched as he took her hand and turned it over. “You see the knot that I tied here around your wrist. You must learn to make this.” He ran his fingers over the intricate braiding around her wrist.
“But why?”
“Because you’re going to have to bind me for the full moon.”
“Cianan! I could never.”
“You promised you would do anything I asked of you.”
“Yes, but…”
“Please, Sascha. I need you to do this for me. I nearly attacked Anya the last time. She simply isn’t strong enough to do it on her own anymore.” He leaned down and kissed the inside of her arm. “And I trust you.”
Chapter 15
Lescoux winced with pain as he picked through the tall, swampy grass. His ruined arm hung limply at his side, bent at a grotesque angle. But the cold and shock had served to deaden most of it. And pain had a way of clearing one’s mind. He thought over the evening’s event, plotting how to use it to his advantage. He’d always been able to turn any situation around to his favor. No matter how low he sank, he could always land on his feet.
It was true that he hadn’t meant to kill the stupid girl. He’d merely wanted to quiet her so she wouldn’t awaken the whole town with her wailing. He had to hand it to the wench, she’d put up quite a fight. When he’d tried to silence her screams with this hand, she’d bitten his fingers so hard that two of them were currently hanging by a thread. Not to mention the scratches and bruises she’d inflicted. He’d acted purely on instinct, rearing back and punching the girl with all of his might to ge
t her off of him. The more little Sera had fought, the more he remembered Sascha. The more he thought of Sascha, the angrier he’d become until he was acting on violent rage, crashing her head against the root of a large tree that was sticking up through the ground until she stopped struggling. Lescoux was no stranger to murder. In the wars, he and some of the others had kept a running score on the number of Outlanders they’d slain. But this was different. More real. So much more intimate. He’d actually felt her body go limp. And in that last moment, when she lay there naked and bleeding, her eyes rolled around and she focused on him one last time. Then all light left them completely. He realized her last thought had been of him. His image would be forever burned into her eyes. The thought was thrilling. It gave him a rush of control and importance. In that moment, he was God.
He’d still been reeling from the exhilaration of killing Sera when Neesa threw herself at him. She’d been screaming at him unintelligibly, pounding her fists against his head and shoulders. He remembered thinking that he’d never known she had so much rage built up against him that she’d try to kill him over some common slut barmaid. But she had and nearly succeeded, clawing at his cheeks and eyes until his face was nearly obscured by bloody scratches. Some would probably even scar.
Suddenly, his shoulder twinged, brutally sending him to one knee. For a moment, he thought he might pass out, but his vision cleared and he was able to continue his drunkard’s path through the trees. Surely the road to town was just ahead. A seasoned warrior, he knew when a surgeon was needed. He’d lose the arm if untreated much longer. He laughed at the circumstances leading to the broken shoulder. It was apparently Neesa’s last act of vengeance. She’d been so busy thrashing around and scratching and biting, she hadn’t noticed the dagger in his hand. He couldn’t get any leverage from her position on top of him, so he’d just begun stabbing randomly. Her blood had been everywhere, all over him and the ground so thick he could smell it still hanging in the air hours later. She’d fallen against him at a strange angle and her body had pinned his wrist against a rock so that the bone had broken with a grotesque cracking sound. He thought that maybe he blacked out for a little afterwards because he couldn’t remember piling the bodies at the edge of the forest. When he came to, it was light and he thought he’d better get back to town and well away from the carnage.
So here he was, nearly to the gates, and he still had no idea how he’d get out of this one. The townspeople would be enraged when the bodies were found. After all, the little blonde slut had been the daughter of the town’s only tavern-keep. He and Sebastian were friends, but Sebastian would come down on the side of the people if he was found out. That was just politics. Ioin knew he’d be hanging from the king’s battlements if he didn’t act fast.
He wandered into town finally just after dawn. He knew people were staring as he stumbled past the market. His face was covered in blood, scratches, and bites, as were his shoulders that peeked through the holes in his shirt that hung in a ragged mess about him. He had a dazed expression and barely noticed their pointing.
“My lord?” a small voice said off to his side. He didn’t respond, trying to process where the sound was coming from. “My lord, are you all right?”
His eyes rolled this way and that until they finally alighted on a short, plump woman. “I’m afraid not, madam,” he replied, his voice taking on a faraway and dazed quality. “I’ve been attacked by a werewolf.”
****
Sascha laughed so hard that her chest began to hurt as she ran. The sun was sinking fast behind the trees and she kept stumbling in the twilight as she ran from him. “I’m much younger and faster, my lord!” she shouted over her shoulder. “You’ll never catch me!”
“Hope that I don’t, little one,” Cianan threatened, his voice full of laughter. “Don’t think that because you’re my mate I won’t take you over my lap.”
“I’m trembling, my lord.” She giggled.
Over the last few weeks, she had known happiness unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She was no longer afraid of Cianan, and they had begun to act like old friends, spending hours together. He would disappear most days from sundown until the late supper Anya always prepared for them. She didn’t care to know what he did during the times they were apart. She could only guess, but figured that he’d been hunting because he would always return haggard, sweaty, and aggressive. If she crossed his path before the effects of the change wore off, she was likely to find herself pinned to the wall as Cianan took her again and again. Not that she minded. He seemed unable to be near her without touching her in some way, a palm at the small of her back, a brush of his thumb across her cheek, or an affectionate kiss to her forehead.
“So come and get me!” She giggled, deliberately baiting him for she knew that no matter how fast she ran, he would always be faster.
“Got you,” he whispered, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her tightly against him. “There is no escape from the dreaded Lord Marek.”
She sighed softly, leaning into his embrace as he kissed the cuff of her ear. “I don’t want to escape Lord Marek.” She turned her body so she could stare into his eyes. “Now that you have me, my lord, what do you intend to do with me?” She batted her eyelashes, feigning innocence even as she rubbed her body wantonly against his.
He held her tighter. “I think perhaps I’ll take you right here.” His tone was low and gravelly and it made her insides quake with excitement.
She could feel his cock, instantly hardening to nudge at her center through the thin gown she wore. She involuntarily pressed against it, stretching upward to plead for his kiss. He didn’t hesitate, and slid his hands under her ass and lifted her off of the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding tightly to him as they stumbled across the damp grass to the corner of the garden, a place hidden from the view afforded by the castle. He dropped to his knees, laying her gently against the mossy ground.
His hands seemed to be everywhere at once and Sascha was impatient to feel them. She shivered, feeling his impossibly warm fingertips tickling her ankle then sneaking under the hem of her gown. They danced along her calf and finally made their way to her thigh. Sascha gasped.
“Cianan...not here. Someone will see.”
“Let them see,” he snarled, working his hand under her body to feel the smooth flesh of her ass. He smiled wickedly as he realized how bare she was beneath the gown. “Nothing underneath?”
“As requested, my lord,” she replied, her cheeks burning with a blush.
“Mmmm...” He purred against her throat. “Always ready to receive her master. I like that…” The rest of the words were lost in the waves of her hair. Propriety dictated that she protest such a wanton act, but her body always obeyed his will without question.
A rasping cough startled them from their trysting, and they rolled away from each other quickly. “Pardon my intrusion, my lord.”
Sascha looked up to see Mr. Kincade staring down at them with a sheepish expression.
“What is it, Kincade?” Cianan sighed, rolling backward to his knees then standing in a graceful movement. “It had better be important.” He offered his hand to Sascha and pulled her up roughly.
“It’s really a message for the mistress.” He indicated Sascha with a nod. “If I might have a word, sir.”
Cianan looked confused, but after a few awkward moments of silence, he nodded and turned to stride back toward the house. He looked back a few times as if he wanted to ask more questions, but finally, he sprinted away and disappeared into the house.
“What is it, Mr. Kincade?” Sascha asked in puzzlement.
“It’s your father.”
At first, she wasn’t sure what he meant. She didn’t remember her father most days it had been so long since she’d seen him. “My father?”
“Yes, love. I was in Falkin today and saw a mutual friend in the marketplace. She happened to mention that your father, Phineas, lay near death at his home. His heart never quit
e recovered from your mother’s death. He’s been weak for some time, but apparently, he collapsed in the square several days ago.”
Sascha could feel a lump of dread forming in the back of her throat and she tried to swallow it. “My...my father is dying?”
“I’m afraid so, love.” He tried to say more, but the words apparently died on his lips as he saw the look of ultimate sorrow on her face. “I’m very sorry, my dear,” he stammered, looking at his feet as if trying to avoid her gaze. “If there’s any way that you could—”
Sascha wavered for a moment then fell to her knees hard. “What could I possibly do now?” she asked, her tone sounding bitter and hollow. “What would he want with me?”
“I know he’d like to see you, love.” Kincade tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. “I can show you the way…”
She cut him off quickly. “It won’t be necessary.”
“But, Sascha…”
“Please leave me.”
The old man wanted to say more, but her expression revealed that the subject was closed. He sighed and nodded, patting her shoulder before sauntering back toward the stables.
She waited until he was gone before breaking down. The grief was sudden and unrelenting. Heavy sobs that shook her shoulders and stole her breath poured out of her as the realization set in that she would most likely never see her father again. She had been so hopeful, foolishly perhaps, that she and her father would one day be reunited after Mr. Kincade had told her of their acquaintance. And now that she knew he was dying, it was like losing him all over again.
Sascha wasn’t sure how long she lay on the ground weeping, but when she rose, the sun had set and the candles in the windows were lit. She shivered in the night air and it only added to her feelings of utter loneliness. She needed to find Cianan, let him warm her body with his and soothe her aching heart with his kisses. He would make everything right. He had to.
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