Captive Desires

by Diane Whiteside

  Azherbhai screamed in pure rage and wheeled to kill her.

  She leaped to her feet, triumph and fear thrumming through her limbs with equal speed. She drove the staff down into Azherbhai’s neck and vaulted off him onto a small ice floe, which was the nearest place to land.

  The great beast howled again and butted into the ice like a giant bull determined to gore a matador. The far smaller sheet slid upward and Danae scrabbled one-handed for purchase amid the soft snow and slick ice. Her other hand was sealed to the staff, more precious than her own life.

  Alekhsiy shook his head free of his helm’s remains and flung the battered ruin aside. Turner’s jeweled sword was both uncannily beautiful and deadly. It slashed through his enchanted armor as if he was wearing copper to its steel. But his dragon-forged axe still survived to make the other duly wary.

  The sun had passed its crest and was fading fast behind the western mountains. Shadows grew amid the granite cliffs and ice shimmered more and more on land and sea. Danae—Mother of All Life, must he hear the battle cries?—his beloved lady battled the Imperial Terrapin somewhere amid the salt spray.

  But they’d been silent for the last few minutes. Was she gone?

  “Really, dude, you should have given up long ago.” Turner chuckled and swung his sword tauntingly, displaying its green perfection. He advanced slowly and inexorably, certain of his victory.

  Alekhsiy retreated. He had only one advantage left—the Earthman’s unfamiliarity with an axe’s unique battle strategies. He circled, the world narrowing to the sword and the curved axe blade weaving their intricate patterns between him and his enemy. Time mattered not, only winning the war.

  And he finally brought the battle to ground of his own choosing. The wind roared its fury, as it had all day, and the land dropped to meet the ocean, steeper here than elsewhere on the dueling ground.

  He attacked in a flurry of blows, which the other quickly countered. They surged back and forth, ever closer to the edge—until Alekhsiy swung his axe blade to hook Turner’s ankle.

  “Like hell!” His enemy leaped back with catalyst speed and power. “You won’t catch me with such an obvious move twice.”

  He landed on the cliff’s verge, at a very steep edge and deep within the shadow zone. His speed sent his feet flying and he skidded on the ice.

  Alekhsiy brought his axe up, ready to fight again, should Danae’s would-be kidnapper recover.

  For a moment, anger, then dread realization flashed through Turner’s eyes. Then his legs went out from under him and he fell over the sheer edge, moving too fast to save himself. He disappeared immediately into the tumultuous waters below, where the ocean raged and frothed between the cliff and immense boulders.

  Alekhsiy crept forward a few paces, wary as a household cat facing a leopard.

  A minute later, a single hand reached up from the tumultuous waters below. Ice etched its still fingers, while droplets trickled amid the mail like worms.

  A wave smashed it down, to vanish amid the boulders and ice floes.

  Turner never appeared again, drowned as surely by his armor as if somebody had held his head under the cold sea.

  Azherbhai bellowed once again in the distance.

  This time, Alekhsiy ran to do battle.

  Danae panted for breath, the crystalline air cutting her lungs like knives. She eyed the bits of ice floating in the sea and tried to calculate her next steps.

  The only thing that had stopped Azherbhai from reducing every ice floe to smithereens—and stopping her from reaching shore—was his equally overwhelming lust for the staff in her hand.

  But right now, she didn’t have many options. If the first ice floe had been an acre in size, this one was smaller than a dinner table set for eight. When he ripped it apart, he’d take her with it.

  Exhaustion and true terror had pushed all sensation away, because this time she had nothing to turn to. The bit of rock over there, which led to a cliff? The tiny floe over there, with a piece of driftwood beyond?

  She truly hoped Alekhsiy was doing better than she was, because she’d run out of ways to distract the big bad guy.

  Azherbhai roared and charged again, his knife-sharp beak wide open. She could see the broad jaws that could crush her bones, the strong tongue that could heave her down that immense gullet, and the lure at the back of his mouth that would wiggle in triumph afterward.

  She closed her eyes and took the worst option—because it was the one he’d be the least likely to expect.

  She sprang for the smallest ice floe, kicking her legs out in a jeté worthy of any danseur noble. Another leap led her to a boulder, high above a maelstrom. She balanced for an instant, careful not to look down, and jumped again. Only one more until the beach but this one into the deepest water.

  Strong arms caught her close.

  Alekhsiy! Her heart began beating again.

  He pressed his cheek against hers and speedily brought them both to land, his strong legs making easy work of the heavy surf.

  “My darling”—His eyes flashed at her unusual endearment—“give me your surcoat, quickly.”

  “Why?” But he’d already set aside his axe and started stripping off his belt.

  Waves crashed over their feet, warning of the incoming tide and their enemy. They were close, far too close to the sea, but there was no time to go farther inland to safety.

  Azherbhai stormed onto the shore, a great smack of his tail sending him farther out of the water. “Return my staff, foolish mortals, and I might let you live.”

  “Never.” Danae backed up, still holding the staff. She twitched briefly, like a cat, and shook her White Sorceress garb completely free from the last traces of having been a wet suit. Alekhsiy shoved his surcoat into her hand behind her back.

  She twirled the weapon behind her, as if nervous, and slid the gaily patterned silk over the central grip.

  “You have killed he who would be my catalyst,” Azherbhai snarled, lashing his great head from side to side. “You owe me death for that.”

  “He fell off a cliff from his own folly,” Alekhsiy retorted. “A wise man would have lived.”

  Azherbhai hissed and his hind flipper sent a giant boulder tumbling down the beach.

  Danae barely managed not to jump. She attacked instead. “You came to my world and upset its balance. Was that according to The Great Order?”

  The Imperial Terrapin burst into a fury of clacking. “Give me my staff and we will be done.”

  “You cannot have it for it is Torhtremer’s battle prize now.” Danae brought it out, the sunset’s glow casting a ruddy light over its green and gold silks.

  “You must not have it.” Azherbhai groaned in despair, the sound echoing from deep within his shell or perhaps the earth.

  “It will not be destroyed,” Alekhsiy said coldly, in a conqueror’s tones. “It will be kept under the strongest wards, guarded by the oldest and wisest of the dragons and phoenixes in a distant place known to no man. No imperial beast may hold the upper hand against another, as you have tried to for far too long.”

  “You will slay me,” Azherbhai howled.

  “You know we cannot. But you will not have another catalyst until the time is ripe.”

  Danae frowned at the prophecy in his voice but stayed silent.

  Azherbhai roared again in frustration and backed into the ocean, beating at the waves until they swallowed him up.

  Danae shivered, then turned away from the sight. She had time yet for the nightmares his voice would reverberate in. She set the staff down and knotted her gauntlets around it to hold the silk in place.

  Far more important now, she cupped Alekhsiy’s face between her hands, cherishing every scrape, every rough hair of him. He rubbed his cheek against her palm.

  “I need to shave,” he said gently, clearly trying for a joke.

  “Who gives a shit?” She shrugged and smoothed her thumb over his lips.

  His tongue flicked out to caress it. His vivid blue
eyes closed briefly—in ecstasy?—before reopening to gaze at her intently. “I do, if I’m to taste your sweet honey before you depart.”

  “I’m very grubby.” Now it was her turn to try for a light touch. But why was she bothering when she’d come so far to have a few words with him alone?

  “I don’t care. I have never cared. I knew you were a sorceress because of how often you’d rescued me. I knew one sip of your sweet liquors would bind me to you forever. Yet I drank deep and long.” His eyes blazed at her, willing her to understand him.

  “All this time? You wanted to fall in love with me?” She shook her head, shaken to the bone.

  “I have been in love with you since I first saw you dance and you brought joy into my life,” he corrected and caught her hands. “I will not hold you against your will. But I ask you to spend what time you can with me here now, before you return.”

  Where she’d be alone again. Tears filled her eyes.

  “My love? What have I said to disturb you?”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” She coughed to remove some of the ridiculous hoarseness from her voice. A hesitant smile burbled up from somewhere. “How about me marrying you and us living here with your family? It would be wonderful to have a real family again.”

  Just like the way she’d felt underwater when she’d fought Azherbhai. Elation and kinship, the magic and unity that were somehow only possible for her in Torhtremer.

  “Are you certain?” His harsh face softened with hope.

  She nodded, biting her lip lest she start bouncing for joy. That would be so not adult.

  “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!” He grabbed her and swung her around in circles, her feet flying fast and free. She giggled and kissed him, delight running as wild in her bones as the hunger leaping through her veins.

  It was a long time before she felt the ground under her feet. They held on to each other, still too rapturous to consider more mundane matters, like how to return home—wherever that was from here—or what to eat.

  A polite cough interrupted their hug. “General Alekhsiy? Sir?”

  Alekhsiy lifted his head sharply. “Igoryok? By all the gods of war, what are you doing here? And who have you brought with you?”

  He turned to face the newcomers, keeping a firm grip on Danae’s hand. She blushed slightly but stepped up next to him, finding his possessiveness enchanting and a little unnerving. She’d never before had a boyfriend who liked to hold hands. Of course, she’d never had one for any amount of time or with deep intimacy.

  “This is my best troop from home, sir.” Igoryok, a short, stocky fellow, made an all-encompassing gesture over perhaps a hundred people who’d all been badly battered in battle. Bloody wounds, blackened burns, dented armor—it was a wonder most of them could walk.

  They bowed to Alekhsiy, their eyes shining. He bowed in return, not quite as deep but equally formally.

  “My lady, this is Igoryok, who commanded my personal guard at Tajzyk’s Gorge. Friends, this is my lady, Danae, who is a White Sorceress.”

  This situation was so not covered by the Torhtremer Saga. Caught by an instinct she couldn’t name, Danae dropped a small curtsy. “I’m honored to meet you, Igoryok.”

  Igoryok’s eyes widened and he dipped his head to her. The others bowed very low.

  Danae smiled back at them, a little shyly. Meeting Alekhsiy was bad enough—but more people from the Torhtremer canon in the flesh? Wow, just wow. But they didn’t look like legends, more like folks who needed a fast trip to the nearest hospital emergency room. “What brings you here, Igoryok?” Alekhsiy’s practiced eye swept over his friend’s battered and smoking armor.

  Danae uneasily wondered if her magic could help any of them. So far, she’d only cast spells for what she basically knew how to do or could picture. Fixing their injuries would be far more complicated. Corinne Carson had written scenes about healing similarly difficult wounds, though, so it had to be possible.

  “We decided to take a trip through the mountains.” Igoryok attempted a nonchalant shrug that ended with gritted teeth. “Unfortunately we had to stop along the way to discourage some hydras and chimeras from accompanying us.”

  “He lies,” a young man burst out. “He had dreams of you needing aid and wouldn’t stop talking until he gathered us.”

  “Jeirgif!” Igoryok reproved, hot color staining his weathered cheeks.

  “Hydras and chimeras?” Danae questioned sharply. She hated reading about those ugly beasts in the Torhtremer Saga. No wonder they needed help.

  “We fought until there were so many chimera corpses piled up, the hydras couldn’t break through the stench,” an older woman explained. “No herbal describes how to cleanse it, either.” She frowned, clearly more disturbed by the lingering mess than her opponents’ death.

  Danae blinked and hid an answering smile. Her mother would have felt the same way. Hadn’t the Amazons had a herbal which told how to heal wounds from these monsters in one of the books? Perhaps if she transformed some of their remaining torches into those herbs…

  “How did you kill so many?” Alekhsiy demanded.

  “My stockpile of Zemlayan fire ant venom,” the old woman informed him cheerfully.

  Alekhsiy turned slightly green and swallowed hard. “My thanks, lady. You are a credit to your clan and your nation.”

  He bowed over her hand and she simpered like a maiden, totally lost for words. Her companions gaped at her, aghast at this startling side of her, and Danae almost chuckled. Much as she enjoyed seeing her beloved shatter other men’s expectations of how easily a woman could be seduced, night was coming and this was definitely not a tropical beach, good for a long night’s stay. Somebody needed to either build shelters or take them home. A great rushing of air, like a mighty wind, but driven by a steady beat, swept through the mountain passes and across their heads.

  “Khyber!” Alekhsiy shouted and turned toward the south.

  The Imperial Dragon of Torhtremer? The wounded would be saved and Alekhsiy would sleep safe tonight. Joy lit her veins hotter than any third curtain call and she went to tend the wounded.

  Closer and closer it came, until it resolved itself into a covey of huge bodies with massive wings. They flew easily, powerfully, quickly. One moment, they were mere specks over the moun taintops and the next, Danae could clearly see the outline of their heads and tails against the ice. They canted their wings and slipped sideways, slipping down through the air with a falcon’s speed, then leveled out just above the beach.

  The great dragon sailed in, gilded by the setting sun, and accompanied by a squadron of his fellows.

  An instant later, Alekhsiy was the center of an ecstatic reunion. He pounded his brother’s back and hugged a tall, platinum blond who looked ridiculously familiar to Danae.

  She propped her hands on her hips, finally finished with healing Igoryok’s men.

  “Dammit, Alekhsiy,” she snapped when he broke free, “you didn’t tell me Corinne Carson was your sister-in-law.”

  Three equally astonished human faces stared at her—but one large tigress sat down and started to clean her whiskers.

  Alekhsiy rubbed his chin slowly. “It never seemed important,” he finally offered.

  “I thought she was dead,” Danae snarled. “Do you have any idea how long I grieved for her? Even if I was perturbed at some of her plot devices.”

  “I’m sorry?” he tried again to make amends. “I promise I’ll always be careful to keep you informed.”

  She sniffed and offered her cheek for a kiss, which he quickly gave, the darling man. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Mykhayl, Corinne, this is Danae, my betrothed.”

  Mykhayl’s golden eyes gazed down at her inscrutably before he smiled. “Welcome home, sister. My brother has been without you far too long.”

  “Finally! I was beginning to wonder when Alekhsiy would find somebody.” Corinne flew forward, her arms as wide open as her grin. “And an author, too.”

  Danae
sighed in relief and hugged them both, while Alekhsiy happily thumped his brother on the back.

  “Where did you find your White Sorceress?” Khyber inquired of Svetlhana. Humans. By the way they carried on, you’d think nobody else had ever discovered their true mate.

  “You did,” she responded, her pink tongue teasing a particularly fascinating morsel around a fang.

  “I did? When?” He cast his mind back. Try as he might, he could remember no occasion when he’d hunted for a White Sorceress.

  “I have longed to restart their order for years, that they might converse with my young cousins once again in the western mountains.”

  He nodded politely, trying to conceal his true thoughts. Yes, yes, he knew that. Get on with the story.

  She nuzzled him briefly, drawing her soft whiskers across his craggy snout. His impatience fled.

  “Yes?” he purred, ready for anything that might continue her attentions.

  “You saw a young sorceress the night you brought back my little sister.”

  He frowned and hastily tried to remember. Young sorceress? But there had been such a crowd in those streets . . .

  The young girl with the dark hair, who’d been standing far below. He’d wondered if she’d truly seen him then, not the shadow he’d cast to disguise himself from all the others.

  “Her.” He pointed a single long claw.

  “Indeed.” His darling’s tail twined with his for a moment.

  “You knew she wasn’t a threat since she had no access to dragon blood. But as soon as you told me about her, I knew she was the one.” She lapped at him briefly. He flicked his long forked tongue out and twined it with hers for an instant, to share a very private kiss. His beloved mate. Should he have been surprised she’d do something like this?

  “You should have told me.” Did he sound stern enough to be convincing? Almost certainly not.

  “I wanted it to be a special surprise for you. You have so many worries; you need somebody to take some of your cares away.”

  She meant she wanted to play games with some of the tasks he saw as necessities. He sighed. She’d still see them done, only differently.