Claimed: Faction 3: The Isa Fae Collection

by Heather Hambel Curley

  He was watching me again. I didn’t have to even check to see if I was right—I could feel him. I could feel those intense green eyes on my figure, boring into my like he was trying to stare right through me. This was part of our routine, after all: he perched on his bad with his sketchbook and I sat on the floor, cold and miserable.

  Just his presence in the room annoyed me. He didn’t talk to me—he didn’t even fucking acknowledge me—and, in some ways, the silence was worse than if he was pestering me. At least, if he spoke I could hear the disgust in his voice and be reminded just how bad things were. My anger heated me. But his silence was cold; the torture of ambivalence. He acted like I didn’t exist.

  And that, in itself, was worse than being alone.

  I was was on edge, like every cell in my body was on alert, but had no strength to defend against attack. Everyone made this big deal that he needed my body to source energy, but he still hadn’t tried to do anything. Not that I was upset about it, quite the opposite, but it didn’t make any sense. He’d said himself he’d take me whenever he wanted. All he’d done is look at me and, in the case of accidental skin-to-skin contact, he’d scramble away like he’d just been bitten.

  I was tired of this bullshit. Either I disgusted him and he wanted no part of me, or I was supposed to be his sex slave for the rest of my life. Which was it? Not knowing, like his perpetual silence, was maddening. It could happen at anytime. Or never.

  It just left me scared all the time.

  Sliding my body around, so the fire warmed my neck and shoulders, I stared back at him. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

  “You’re staring at me.”

  He snorted. Turning the sketchbook pages to a clean sheet, he shook his head. “You’re not even looking at me.”

  “I didn’t need to, I can feel you staring at me. What do you want?”

  “Nothing from you.”

  “Do you want to know what I want?” He didn’t respond and I didn’t expect him to. I also didn’t care. “A blanket. It could be a manure covered, old wool horse blanket and I would be thrilled.”

  “You’re warm.”

  “Oh, you know me now?” I scoffed. “I’d be shocked if you actually remembered my name.”

  He smirked. “Your name is Wren. I own you, remember?”

  “I don’t know…you haven’t pointed it out a hundred times yet today. It’s hard to commit it to memory until you’ve repeated it over and over and over and over again.”

  He scowled.

  “So, remind me, little prince, you’re going to source what from me? Energy?” I cocked my eyebrow up. “Is it working yet?”

  His jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

  “Oh, wait, that’s right. You’d have to get near me to do that. Well,” I shrugged my shoulders, widening my eyes dramatically, “I guess that’ll never happen, since you seem to think being human is contagious.”

  He threw his sketchbook and papers off the bed and leaned forward, almost like a cat crouching down to pounce. “I’ll have you whenever I want you.”

  I ground my knees against the floor, fighting back the panic welling up in my chest. “I’d rather you kill me.”

  He sprang up from the bed; he charged.

  I was ready; I leaned as far back on my ass as I could without tipping over and kicked my legs out at him. He grunted and stumbled, but lunged on his long, slender legs at me again. He was fast.

  He was too fast.

  I dropped my hand to the floor to try and boost myself upward—mistake. A bolt of pain shot from my hand to my elbow and I shrieked, collapsing over my knees. The room dipped and swayed, the pain left me lightheaded.

  Grabbing me by my upper arms, Asher yanked me to my feet and dragged me to the bedside. I squirmed in his grasp; I dug my heels into the ground, but he was too strong.

  He shoved me backwards.

  I landed on my hands, palms down. White hot pain surged through my wrists and I cried out; I cursed. Black fog clouded the edges of my vision and I felt bile churning and bubbling up in my throat. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. Everything was pain, my body was on fire.

  Asher grabbed my calves and yanked me down the mattress. He shoved my skirts up and crawled on top of me; his hand was between us, his fingertips digging into my inner thighs. His hands were rough. He was fumbling with my lacy undershorts: he’d tug them down and then he’d move his hand to his belt, trying to wrench the leather through the loop. He was grinding against me; he was pawing at my corseted breasts.

  And I could tell—this wasn’t what he wanted. Even through his leather trousers, I could tell he wasn’t aroused. Tears were streaming down my face, but I found a laugh. I chuckled. “You can’t do it. After all those threats, after declaring how you’d take me however and whenever you wanted, you can’t get it up.”

  He glaring at me, his full weight lowered on my body…and I stopped laughing. His expression had changed: although he was still staring at me, it wasn’t all in anger. It was humiliation. Disappointment. And…pity?

  For a brief moment, I thought he was going to say something. His lips parted and he sucked in a breath—

  The sound of someone pounding on his door made us both jump. He scrambled up on his feet and ran to the door, brushing his hair back away from his face.

  I looked away. Unless it was death, I didn’t really care who the fuck it was.

  The hinges on the door creaked as he opened it; Meleri’s voice was too enthusiastic. “Am I interrupting?”

  “We were just talking.”

  “Your father has called a household meeting.” She cleared her throat and spoke louder. “You’ll join us too, Wren. Your position requires it.”

  My…position? Which one was she talking about? The one under her son; the one that wasn’t happening? I hoisted myself up on my shoulder and smiled sweetly at her. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Her smile tightened into more of a grimace. Looking back at Asher, she said, “I’ll give you ten minutes to finish. Does her energy source well?”

  “I won’t discuss it with out, Mere.” He shut the door in her face. “It’s not your business.”

  When he turned around, his face was clouded with an angry glare, his brows knitted down and narrowing his green eyes. He fiddled with a leather bracelet looped around his wrist. In the enter was a stone, similar to the stone in my cuff. His glowed dull green. As he moved, I noticed a few flecks of yellow.

  When he realized I was staring at the bracelet, he clamped his hand over it. “It’s not something you need to worry about.”

  “I didn’t say I was worried.”

  “You’re staring at me.”

  “You’re the tallest man in the room. And the only man.” I snapped my mouth closed. Shut up, Wren. “Is a household meeting a bad thing?”

  “Usually.”

  “Things around here are nothing if not consistent.”

  His lips spread into a smile; just as fast, he scowled again. “Let me help you up.”

  “You don’t have to be nice to me.” I curled upward, trying to heave myself forward and upright on the bed. It was humiliating. No doubt I looked like a turtle; maybe they didn’t have turtles in Serata.

  My right cuff dragged across my leg. It yanked the tender flesh around my wounds; I winced.

  He slid his arm under mine and, gripping my waist, hoisted me up. “I won’t take you to a household meeting with your cheeks wet with tears. You look like a turtle.”

  Great.

  “We’re not friends, Asher.” I wriggled out of his grasp and took several steps away from him. “You can call me your wife or your pet or whatever the hell you think I am. But you just tried—poorly, I might add—to force yourself on me.”

  “That’s not—“

  “Okay, you can just stop. That’s exactly what it was.” I held my hands up to push him away; the fact that I had no power and no strength to do it was like a punch to the mouth. “Don’t make yourself out to
be a hero when you’re not.”

  “I didn’t ask for you. I didn’t want you in the first place—they forced you on me. I’d rather be dead.”

  “Just keep telling yourself that.”

  He stormed out of the bedroom in a huff, combing down his soft curls and obviously trying to smooth out his hair. As we walked, he swept his bangs over to one side of his face and adjusted his long sleeved black shirt. He was hiding the bracelet.

  I kept my mouth shut. He could shove it up his ass for all I cared; absolutely nothing he did mattered to me. His momentary kindness was likely a rouse, some piss poor way for him to not feel guilty about trying to rape me.

  He led me to a room across from the dining room; a strange little octagonal nook with red, fabric covered walls and brown, gothic style furniture. I almost expected a vampire count to be sitting in the high backed, wooden chair next to the fireplace. Heavy framed paintings were neatly arranged on one wall panel, another was made entirely of glass cabinets; still another was nothing but a set of segmented mirrors. A piano was tucked in the back of the room.

  My fingers twitched. I hadn’t touched a piano since before The Division. Music was once my life, hours upon hours of digging my bare foot into the pedals while my fingers worked across the keys. Before that day our coven shattered, my life could be boiled down into three words: sex, music, and failure.

  I turned away from the piano.

  Asher was giving me a strange look. It was somewhere between irritation and interest, like he wanted to say something to me, but was annoyed I’d wandered so far into the room while he was standing next to a red, gold, and brown patterned ottoman.

  I cocked my eyebrow up at him.

  If he was going to say something, he didn’t have the chance. Meleri, Nerys, and a heavy-set young woman I’d never seen before filed into the room. Close behind them was Tobias and two men: one was older, with a thick, fluffy gray beard and a large, crooked nose; the other was heavy-set with broad shoulders. His face was full and his cheeks ruddy. If he wasn’t so tall, I’d have guessed he was about twelve.

  Tobias waited until they’d all taken seats in various chairs and chaise lounges. I assumed this was going to be just like meal time, where I’d stand off to the side, part of the decoration instead of part of the family.

  But Asher motioned to the seat next to him on the stool. He nodded his head at me.

  I wasn’t entirely sure I was comfortable with this; he was being too nice. He wasn’t ignoring me and pretending I didn’t exist. He was being…attentive.

  As I sat next to him, the realization hit me—he wasn’t doing this for me. He was putting on a show for his parents.

  I balled up my fists, squeezing with just enough force that my wrists started to ache. How dare he. It was bad enough that I was sleeping in front of the fireplace like a dog, but now he was pretending like we were all buddy buddy and cozy? Fuck no.

  Tobias clapped his hands together; the sudden sound jolted me out of my thoughts. He said, “The storm is coming. The latest divination from the druids is that it will be on us within three days. It gives us time to prepare. The windows need to be reinforced and locked down. Geoffrey, the windows need to be reinforced and locked down. Doors as well.”

  The bearded man nodded. “Aye.”

  “Ralf.” Tobias stared down the heavy-man, the small giant. He looked remarkably like the woman sitting across from him; I wondered if they were siblings. “I’ll need you to make sure the barns are emptied into the catacombs below the house. The horses and cows in the first tunnel, sheep in the second. Repeat it to me.”

  His voice was heavily accented; it reminded me of something in my past but I couldn’t quite remember what. “Cows in first tunnel, sheep in der second.”

  “Good. Pigs are to be penned in the large cavern, the ‘Big Room’ near the entrance. Repeat.”

  “Pigs in der Big Room.”

  “Geoffrey will check you work, Ralf, and I won’t want mistakes this time.” Tobias paused and clamped his hand down on the large man’s shoulder. “There won’t be mistakes, will there? We have an understanding.”

  “Ya, I’ll do it goot.”

  Asher crossed his arms over his chest, stretching his long, skinny legs out in front of him. “It’s another storm, Da, we’ve had nothing but storms for a thousand years now. Since longer than I can remember. Why all this preparation?”

  “Because this is different. This is nuclear winter.” He walked over to us, stopping directly in front of me. “From her world.”

  “I wasn’t involved with that, actually. I was one of the ones they bombed.” I glanced at Asher and then back up at Tobias. “Twice.”

  “We prepare because we have no choice. You of all people should understand that.”

  Asher stiffened. He ran his hands through his long hair—obviously this was some kind of nervous tic—and huffed into his bangs. “The druids have been wrong before.”

  “Asher.” Meleri’s voice sounded forced, almost biting. She said, “Let me see your bracelet.”

  He shoved his hand between us, wrenching the sleeve down. “Just because they can control us with theses fucking harnesses, doesn’t mean you can monitor me like one of your star charts. It’s fine.”

  “It isn’t fine, Frederick Asher Coulthurst, now you answer your mother before I make you father pull your arm up for me. I saw yellow. Yellow, Tobias, he isn’t sourcing energy from her like he should. You spend our fortune on a wench, not a witch.”

  “It’s my monthly.” I blurted the words out before I gave myself adequate time to think it through. “He can’t. It’s like…it’s like an energy block or something. Human women bleed for several days—“

  “Fae women do as well.” Meleri leveled her gaze at me. “Has he even tried to source during it? There’s no reason he can’t.”

  I cocked my eyebrows up like I was surprised. “He’s a gentleman. My comfort comes first.”

  “Enough, Meleri, I’m not finished. Leave the boy alone.” Tobias rubbed his hands together and then paused for several minutes. Finally, he said, “The last time the portal was opened, something else came in. Whether it was some kind of…radiation or someone unaccounted for on the train. What we know is that this storm is to be compromised of electricity and radiation; combined it will plunge us into what Earth called an Ice Age. Our world, our faction, is a desolate wasteland. We’re dying. And now, we will be numb.”

  A wave of pain cascaded down the side of my skull. I could see this room from a different angle, with the ornately carved fireplace mantle and the heavy iron chandelier above the horsehair couches. He focuses only on material things, never his own flesh and blood.

  The core of my brain felt like it was seizing. I saw the fixture fall; I heard a scream. Begging, pleading for life; and then I heard my own voice. The pleas to bring him back. For life. Don’t take him, no. I can’t lose him too.

  Asher’s elbow tapped against my ribs and he shifted, again pulling down on his shirtsleeve. “Wren will help me. Right, lovely?”

  “Uhhh,” I stammered, I had no idea what anyone was talking about. “Yes, of course. I’m good at…ah…that.”

  Tobias was staring at us, like he was evaluating the unseen and very much imagined marital binding. He tented his fingers in front of his face, pressing them into his lips, and nodded. “She should help. This is her fault.”

  “Her fault? No, Da, be reasonable.” He held his arm in front of me, like he was blocking me from his father. “The portal has opened and closed three times since she was brought here. You cannot blame her for someone else’s mistakes.”

  “No, no I can’t.” Tobias stopped walking and clamped his hands behind his back, slowly rocking forward on his toes. “But she can be made to pay for them.”

  My fingers brushed against Asher’s arm. It was like I was grasping for a lifeline. Coming here wasn’t my choice. Being sold and bought by these fae creatures wasn’t my choice. I didn’t ask for any of it, yet, they
were going to hold be accountable for something I had absolutely no control over?

  Asher jumped up to his feet and lunged at his father. He stabbed his index finger in his face. “You can’t do that. She’s mine—we signed an accord.”

  “And she’ll remain yours, but you must be rational.” Tobias cupped his hands over Asher’s shoulders; Asher wrenched away. “Look at what’s happened since she—a witch—was brought here. We’re now faced with a storm that threatens to launch us into oblivion. A new age is upon us, a nuclear winter that will keep Serata frozen for another thousand years? Not to mention the murders—and that is precisely the type of thing her kind provoke. Blood lust. Sacrilege. It’s their pacts with the human legend Satan, or Hades. She’s already allowed your energy to wane. What more will she do?”

  Asher’s back was to me; he shuffled backwards until his legs brushed against my knees. “The taking of souls was not brought about by her or her kind. It came about when Serata died the first time. The end of the first age.”

  “That’s enough, Asher.” Meleri’s voice was sharp; it wasn’t a suggestion or even a gentle reprimand. It was a command, a direct order.

  And he ignored her. “You cannot pin the sins of a race on her. I will not allow it.”

  Tobias waved his hand dismissively at Meleri. “That is why we must prepare. That is why your mother and I will travel to the Silver City tonight. Word has circulated that witches give a power stronger than any energy credit, that they provide the ultimate source of life. The market is now black; they take what they want. They won’t buy it.”

  “And the regime?”

  “They make it possible.” Tobias nodded at Geoffrey. Even from where I sat, I could see the emptiness in his eyes. There was no emotion, no regard for his son’s pleas. “Take her.”

  Geoffrey stood up, rolling his shoulders back and cracking his knuckles. He took a step towards me, extending his right hand to my throat. “Come on, witch.”

  “No!” Asher planted himself in front of me, holding his hands outward. “She’s mine—you leave her alone, Geoffrey, it is under my order. You cannot ignore my order.”