Taken by the Enemy

by Jennifer Bene

  He was getting closer to her, she could hear the furious crunching of his boots over the leaves, but then another shout to the side stopped him. “Lucian! Let’s talk.”

  Mathias.

  Emmie forced her head up again, and found herself staring across the distance directly into Lucian’s gray eyes. He kept his eyes on her for a moment longer, his fists tightening, but then Mathias called his name again and he turned away from her to follow the older man.

  Ridiculously, Emmie felt relief as he left even though it meant more time bound to the tree. The gathered crowd assisting with the deer was looking at her, but she just closed her eyes against them and dropped her head. Time had little meaning anymore, measured only by the reprieve she had from her shivering, and then Lucian’s voice snapped off to her right.

  “Get her down from there and bring her to Mathias’ now!”

  It was Evan who stood in front of her a moment later, still dirty from the hunt, but he gently lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes. His were honey brown, and suddenly Emmie was thinking about whether his child would have his eyes or Lucie’s blue ones. “Are you all right?” he asked softly as he started to work at the rope around her waist.

  “Fine.”

  “You have a talent for getting under their skins.” Evan glanced at her as he threw the rope around the tree, gathering it in loops as he freed her.

  “I’m sure your child will be a lot better behaved.” The words left her before she could catch herself, and he froze. Emmie sighed, rolling her ankles as he began moving again to let her loose. “Lucie told me, she was teaching me to make baskets this morning. I was terrible at it.”

  “Bad basket weaving got you tied to a tree? Exactly how bad were you?” Evan laughed a little, but sobered as he stood to free her wrists.

  “It wasn’t the basket weaving.”

  “I figured. I, uh, haven’t seen her yet. How is she doing?” The tremble in his voice made the father-to-be’s nerves clear.

  “Good. She’s very nice.” Emmie spoke quietly, wincing as her wrists were freed and she started to work the stiffness out of her fingers. The rush of blood back to her arms made her dizzy for a moment, but he reached out to steady her before she lost her balance.

  “Thanks, I think so too. Do you need to sit down for a minute?”

  “I’m fine.” She brushed his touch from her shoulder and he backed away, giving her space and turning his eyes everywhere but her. “Let’s just go,” she muttered.

  Evan nodded and lightly grabbed her arm to lead her back to Mathias’ house, even though there was no chance she’d run completely naked off into the woods. As they approached the door, shouts came from within.

  “You asked me to lead them, Mathias! You told me you’d follow me, and when I left, I said no one was to touch her!” Lucian’s voice was strained.

  “That girl is hiding something,” Mathias answered, much more calmly.

  “It didn’t look like she was hiding anything tied to that damn tree!”

  “Lucian!” Evan called out and then he knocked on the door, ending their eavesdropping. The door was yanked open and Lucian stared at her, his anger radiating off him in waves.

  “Thank you, Evan. Why don’t you go clean up and see to Lucie.”

  “Sure, um —” he stuttered to a stop, giving her another sad look before finally turning to leave. “Okay.”

  They stared at each other for a long minute, hazel eyes into heather gray, but neither of them were backing down and that seemed to push Lucian’s anger even further. “Get on your knees.”

  Emmie huffed out a laugh. “You want me to suck you right out here in the open?”

  “No, I want you to crawl inside and stay on your knees while we clear up exactly what the fuck happened today.” Lucian’s fists were so tight that she half expected to hear his knuckles crack. Mathias’ brooding temper lurked just behind him, and Emmie decided not to tempt fate any further – so she obeyed, slipping to her knees and crawling into the room so that Lucian could shut the door tight.

  “Ready to answer me now, girl?” Mathias asked, sitting in his chair once again. Lucian settled into the chair opposite him, the same one she’d sat in earlier in the day.

  “What exactly are you wanting her to tell you?” Lucian asked.

  “Who she is,” Mathias answered and glanced over at Lucian with a sigh. “Like I said before, the girl can read and write like some kind of aristocrat. Haven’t you noticed how well spoken she is when she isn’t cursing us or damning us to hell?”

  “Not really.” Lucian shrugged, and Mathias grumbled.

  “If you spent time paying attention to her instead of thinking with your cock, it would be damn obvious.”

  “Shut it, Mathias.” He turned towards her then, leaning on his knees, and Emmie became even more aware of her nakedness. It was the most he’d seen of her, and the entire village had seen it first. “All right, out with it. How do you know how to read and write?”

  “I wrote letters for people —”

  “Not this shit again!” Mathias interrupted her and growled, “What did I tell you, girl?”

  “Let her answer!” Lucian snapped.

  “I did write letters for people,” Emmie mumbled. “Transcribed them. Hard to do that without knowing how to read or write.”

  “And where did you learn to read and write?” Lucian asked, and she clenched her warming hands into fists, grateful for the insulated shelter of Mathias’ home even though her situation wasn’t a good one. Her mind spun, but it was hard to be clever when she was cold, so she went with the truth.

  “At home.”

  “And where the fuck did you call home? Tell us your name, girl!” Mathias shouted, and she flinched.

  “Emmie,” she answered and he threw something across the room.

  “Calm down!” Lucian growled, but his own voice made it clear he was losing his temper as well. “Just tell us where you lived, the street name. Tell us who your parents were. That’s all he wants to know.”

  She swallowed slowly, well aware of her dry mouth as she spoke. “No.”

  “What did I tell you?” Mathias grumbled.

  “Tell me who you were in the city.”

  “No.”

  Lucian stood up quickly, towering over her as she tilted her head back to meet his eyes. He was starting to breathe harder, and Mathias just laughed, throwing his hands up. “Dammit, Lucian, you know how I’d handle this.”

  “I can handle her just fine,” Lucian hissed.

  “Oh yeah, she looks handled. The men are right, you didn’t nab yourself a little bird, you nabbed a wild hawk, and if you’re not careful, she’s going to tear your throat out.” Mathias leaned back in his chair, but Lucian’s rage was just beginning to show.

  “Tell me.” His words were sinister in their quiet, and Emmie felt a tremble rush through her that had nothing to do with the temperature.

  “I have nothing to tell you.” The words came out as a whisper, but the roar Lucian released was more than loud enough. He grabbed her arm in a vicious grip, hauling her to her feet as he threw open the door and shoved her outside. She yelped as he dragged her the short distance, still naked, to his house.

  Once inside, he threw her onto the pallet of his bed and shouted, “Tell me what you’re hiding!”

  “Go to hell!” she screamed back, moving back from him over the surprisingly soft bedding.

  “I’ve told you, over and over, that you need to behave. That you need to be respectful, obedient! Lying to me is not any of those things!” Lucian yelled, and then he pointed at her. “Do. Not. Move.” He stormed out of the house in a rage, and Emmie let out a shuddering breath, her entire body shaking.

  Where the hell did he go?

  Her mind raced, and she looked around the room in a panic until she saw a knife on his table. Emmie launched herself at it, snagging it before leaping back onto the bed. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel her pulse in her ears, but she tucked it
next to her, doing her best to hide the knife against her side while keeping a solid grip on it.

  The door banged open a moment later and she yelped, tightening her grip on the handle of the blade as he kicked it shut. There was a thin branch in his hands and he was busy tearing off twigs and leaves in a fury, muttering to himself.

  Oh, shit.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to just tell me what we want to know?” His voice was too calm as he raised dark gray eyes to her. When she didn’t answer, he stalked towards her across the room, whipping the now clean switch through the air.

  Emmie waited, letting him move a little closer, and then she lunged at him with the knife. He dropped the switch and caught her wrist easily, painfully twisting it until her fingers released the blade involuntarily. She screamed and cursed him as he tossed it to the side, flipping her completely to her stomach.

  “Are you fucking serious?” he yelled at her, and then he scooped up the switch and brought it down across her ass. It took a moment for the line of fire to register, but then she was screaming for a different reason as the pain surged. Lucian brought it down again and again in a furious sequence of lashes as the switch seemed to wrap around the sides of her. When she tried to block it with her arm, she regretted it, the pain worse on her arm than it was across her backside. Emmie tucked her arms under her, bracing herself against his bed as he shouted, “Tell me!”

  “I’ll never tell you anything!” she screamed, her voice cracking under the strain. The welts from the switch pulsing bright lines of pain.

  Lucian growled and flipped her to her back. He was on top of her in an instant, grabbing her arms to slam them down over her head, his strength easily overpowering her as she struggled against him, tears burning her eyes. “I thought you had nothing to tell me,” he spoke low, and she let out a frustrated scream as she tried to unseat him ineffectively.

  “I don’t!” she shouted, but he dropped his weight over her hips until she couldn’t move.

  “You’re sure about that?” he asked, trailing wild eyes over her.

  “YES!” Her voice was raw, and he shook his head.

  “Why are you so fucking stubborn? Nothing is that important!” Lucian shouted into her face, and she spit back into his.

  “I hate you.”

  “Really?” he asked as he forced his knees between hers and spread her wide as she fought. Shifting his weight onto her wrists to hold her down, his free hand slid between her thighs to slip two fingers inside her as she tried her best to twist away. “Well, your mouth might lie, little bird, but your body doesn’t. You’re soaking wet and whatever secrets you have… you want me as much as I want you.”

  Emmie screamed in futile rage, trying to jerk her hands free of his grip, but it was useless with his weight pressing them painfully into the bedding. His fingers continued to glide through the wetness between her thighs, and she hated herself for responding to him, for taking any pleasure in the rhythmic movements of his fingers, or the way his thumb brushed across her clit and caused her hips to kick.

  “All I’ve been thinking about the last few days is the way your lips felt around my cock,” he mumbled as his mouth trailed over her shoulder, tasting her, and she was drowning in the warm, all-male scent of his skin. “The way you felt when I was inside you.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, and he lifted his head up to meet her eyes.

  “I’d rather fuck you.” Lucian slid his fingers from her, but she felt him fumbling for his pants and she whimpered.

  Not again.

  “No!” Too quickly his cock was brushing against her, and she tried to bring her thighs together, tried to twist her hips, but there was no room for it. As a last ditch effort, her mind threw up her full name, the name that would likely act as a full stop if he heard it, but she hesitated too long and then he thrust inside her. It was a dull ache, a painful fullness, but it was nothing like the first time. Then he withdrew and somehow went deeper.

  Emmie whined under him as he dropped his head over her shoulder, his light brown hair brushing against her cheek until she turned away from it. The welts rubbed rough against the bedding beneath her adding a new layer of torment, each line lighting up individually as he thrust again and again.

  “I want to know your name,” he grunted against her ear and she renewed her efforts to pull her wrists free, chastised by the realization of just how weak she was against his strength.

  “No,” she mumbled and he groaned.

  “Fine, little hawk. Have it your way.” His next thrust was harder, more brutal, and she winced, but then her body seemed to catch up to his movements. A warm pool began to form in her lower belly, spreading slowly until she had to fight the urge to lift her hips to meet his. Lucian was breathing hard above her, quiet groans escaping him, and she gritted her teeth to halt her own moan as pleasure started to surge against her own wishes.

  It felt impossible, but that same tingling pressure he had brought forth in her before began to creep up her spine again, making the tempting darkness behind her eyes dance with lights. “Please…” she begged, but it was too quiet, lost in the raucous sound of their breaths.

  And what was she begging for anyway? For him to stop, or to keep going until she dissolved?

  She did her best to push back the rising orgasm, to ignore the devious friction of each thrust, but it was impossible. Lucian tilted his hips, brushing against a new place inside her that sent her flying into oblivion just as he commanded, “Come for me, Emmie.”

  Then there was only the rush of pleasure warming her from head to toe as she cried out and her mind sparkled with orgasmic delirium. For a moment, there was nothing but that tingling rush, and then it began to fade. The glittering fires inside her winking out like candle flames in a breeze, flickering and then disappearing completely.

  The crash on the other side of bliss was pure hell.

  Emmie knew she had felt his cock kick deep inside her as he had come, filling her with his seed once again, and she wanted to drink a gallon of the moon tea. She wanted to bathe in it.

  She wanted to drown him in it.

  He panted above her, his fingers still wrapped painfully tight around her wrists, and she pulled at them again. “Get off me,” she growled.

  Lucian sighed and rolled off of her, clearly not caring now that he was done with her. With a huff, he landed close to the wall and she sat up to turn away from him, her feet touching the animal skins on the floor.

  Empty. That’s how she felt as the cool air focused on the sheen of sweat on her skin.

  Emmie huddled with her arms wrapped around herself for a long time, listening to his harsh breathing slowly settle. Then there was nothing but a dull silence filled by the crackling of fires and the low hum of voices outside. They thought this was okay? Normal? A spark of defiance appeared in that vacant, dark pit inside her, and she fed it – furious at him, furious at their fucked up little village of traitorous enemies to the city.

  The city to which she was practically an heir.

  Taking a deep breath, she stared at the opposite wall. Her anger built, and all of the caution she had held for days, all of the careful language just disappeared, and she finally gave him the answer they had wanted so badly. “My name is Emeline Anne Daniau.”

  The sudden skip in his steady breathing told her he’d heard her, and he sat up sharply. His voice shook when he asked, “Jules Daniau?”

  Emmie smiled into the dim space in front of her, feeling a sense of satisfaction begin to edge back the darkness inside her. “He’s my father.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Your father?” Lucian yelled, and Emmie let the glee fill her up as his obvious fear made his voice shake.

  “Yes.”

  “Your fucking father is the head of the town council? The bastards who exiled all of us?” His voice was too loud, and they were much too close to the village center for him to be announcing her secret.

  She turned, glaring at him over her shoul
der. “Yes.”

  Lucian slid his hands into his hair, gripping tight as he groaned loudly and dropped onto his back. His shirt lifted, and she let her eyes trail over the hard ridges of his abs – so strong, but his strength was useless against the knowledge of who she was. “This is impossible,” he muttered.

  “Apparently not.” Emmie laughed bitterly to herself.

  “This isn’t funny!” he shouted, and she shrugged, still smiling despite his futile anger.

  “Trust me, I don’t think any of this is funny.”

  “He exiled you? His daughter?” Lucian pushed himself into a sitting position again, gasping out the last question. “Why?”

  Emmie sighed. She was over the lies, the pretense she had fought so hard to maintain, none of it mattered. He already knew the most important part of it. “He didn’t.”

  “What!” Lucian shouted and she turned to face him completely.

  “Would you be quiet?” she hissed. “He didn’t exile me, I… I left.”

  “You left,” he echoed, disbelief reigning in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “You left the city on your own. All by yourself.” Lucian stared at her incredulously, his hand returning to grip his hair at the root.

  “I did,” she confirmed, and he huffed out a laugh, breathing rapidly as he sputtered.

  “But, why? You were rich! The richest of the rich! What on earth—” He stopped, shifting until he leaned back against the wall of his house as a low groan rose out of him. “Tell me why!”

  “I had my reasons.” Emmie’s joy at his suffering fled as the answer to that question surfaced inside her. Dark and unwelcome.

  “You might as well tell me! If they’re coming for you, we’re all going to die anyway. Men, women, children… ALL OF US!” he shouted into her face, and she flinched. “So, I might as well know why, I might as well be able to tell them all why they’re going to die after surviving everything they have!”

  She turned away from him, cradling her face in her hands as thoughts and memories raced through her head too fast to track. Her fingers wound their way back to the braid Alice had so carefully crafted that morning, but it was already a mess so Emmie began to undo it to let her hair curtain her face. The absent tension on her scalp was a relief, but nowhere near enough. Nowhere near enough to erase the pain of –