Tempting the Dryad

by Rebecca Rivard

“I’m alpha,” Jorge asserted stubbornly. “Lord Jorge.”

  He made an agitated circuit around the cavern’s perimeter.

  Tiago shook his head. “You’re fucking insane,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jorge. “I’m nobody at Rock Run. A warrior, yeah, but low in the hierarchy. Why mess with me?”

  The footsteps halted. Tiago heard the other man’s breath shudder in, and when he spoke, he sounded almost normal. “It bothers you, sim? That your brother doesn’t help you more. Maybe he even keeps you down.”

  The words pricked, but Tiago forced himself to shrug. “I have to earn my place like anyone else.”

  “Still, you’re impatient. That’s how you were as a pup—always jumping into things with both feet. You must hate being the low man.”

  Tiago clenched his teeth but said nothing.

  Jorge came closer. His ripe, unpleasant odor filled Tiago’s nostrils. “You’re stronger than him. You could be alpha—or my second.”

  Tiago kept his expression blank. He’d thought the same himself—that if he challenged his brother, he just might win—but it sounded a hell of a lot worse when voiced by another man.

  “Dion is my alpha. I swore a warrior’s oath to honor him as the head of my clan—and so did you.”

  “Bah.” Jorge spat on the cavern floor. “You’re as soft as the rest of them. But no matter. You’ll do what I say or you’ll die, along with your female.”

  “You’re a cabrão to use a woman like that.” He used the Portuguese word deliberately. It was a serious insult, meaning “asshole,” but the literal translation was “goat,” or worse, a man who’d been cheated on.

  Jorge snarled. “Don’t push me, boy. I left Orius to keep an eye on the dryad. But if you don’t do what I ask, well—Mys likes to hurt his women.”

  A black heat filled Tiago’s head. Deus, he wanted to kill the man. Behind his back, he flexed his hands. If he could just get free…

  “What?” he asked tightly. “What do you want me to do?”

  * * *

  A quarter mile away, Alesia crouched in another cave, arms wrapped around her knees. The cave was small, with only a few yards between her and the two men sitting against the opposite wall. Its only entrance was a short, narrow passageway that had her digging her fingernails into her palms to keep from whimpering as she’d inched her way through it.

  Her home was the open branches of a tree, close to sun and sky. About the worst thing you could do to a dryad was force her or him into a dark, confined space, especially underground.

  She eyed the two sea fada warily. Orius and Mys, they called each other. She recognized them from Petros Okeanos’s den, although she’d never learned their names.

  Orius was the large one, with a crooked nose and shoulders as broad as a door. Mys was shorter and whipcord lean, with cropped black curls and a look in his heavy-lidded eyes that made her want to curl into a tight little ball.

  At least she and Tiago had gotten dressed before the men had attacked them. She was chilled from sitting on the damp ground, but it would be worse without the jeans and sweater. And being naked around these two men didn’t bear thinking about.

  Tiago. Please, please, let him be all right.

  Jorge and Orius had rigged up a pallet for him from two poles and the picnic blanket and carried him, still unconscious, into the woods in the direction of the river. They’d refused to tell her where they were taking him. The back of his head had been smeared with blood and she’d begged them to at least let her clean it, but Jorge had bared his teeth at her and she’d shut up.

  When they were gone, Mys had turned to her, his eyes a night-glow green in the dusk. Like Jorge and Orius, he was naked but seemingly impervious to the chill night air. She shivered at his silent appraisal. Like he’d already claimed her and was examining his property.

  He grabbed her arm and jerked his head. “This way.”

  They headed upstream in the opposite direction from which Jorge and Mys had taken Tiago, and across a field to another stand of trees.

  The squirrels chittered anxiously as she passed by and an owl hooted a warning. She knew they sensed her fear but didn’t know how to help. And what could they do against a fada anyway? She could send them to Rock Run, but the base was across the river and several miles downstream. And Mys was careful not to allow her near enough to a tree to use it to escape.

  Now would be a good time for Naomi to realize she was in trouble, but unfortunately, it didn’t work like that.

  By the time they reached their destination it was completely dark out. Mys ordered her into the cave first. When she balked, he snarled and she hurried to obey, groping her way along the wall in the narrow, pitch-black passageway. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen yards long, but it felt as if it went on forever.

  Once they were in the cavern, he lit a couple of candles and set them on a ledge. She was grateful that at least she didn’t have to sit in total darkness. She sidled her way along the wall until she was as far from him as she could get and then hunkered down in a corner and wrapped her arms around her legs—for warmth, but for comfort, too.

  And all the time Mys considered her with those dark, hooded eyes.

  Not touching her. Not coming any nearer. Not even speaking.

  But the look on his face made her skin crawl.

  If only she could camouflage herself as bark. Not that Mys wouldn’t know where she was, but there wouldn’t be much he could do to a woman made of wood. But like her Gift of teleportation, it required her to be touching a tree, and trees were in short supply in an underground cavern.

  Her tension ratcheted when Orius arrived. Now there were two of them. Men who looked on women as little more than sexual slaves. But at least Mys had someone else to turn that hot black gaze on.

  Orius had returned with Tiago’s messenger bag. He offered Alesia some of the food, and when she shook her head no, he and Mys polished off the cheese and bread and the last of the wine. They didn’t speak much, and what they did say was in Greek, but Alesia could understand some of it. Like many dryads, she traced her ancestry to ancient Greece, and even though her family spoke English, Greek was still used in rituals, so she understood enough to know that Tiago had been taken to a nearby cave.

  She stored that information away. If she managed to escape, it gave her somewhere to start searching for him.

  If she managed to escape. She eyed the two hard-faced fada and her heart sank. It was going to take a miracle.

  She swallowed noisily. She would escape. She had the feeling Tiago’s life depended upon it.

  At least they hadn’t tied her hands behind her back like they had Tiago. They both knew that if she tried to run, Mys would be on her in the blink of an eye—and she had the feeling he’d love the chance to run her down. There was something off about him—sick. Orius, too. Their eyes were wild, their hair fell over their shoulders in shaggy manes and they smelled bad, like a dog with wet fur.

  She’d heard about feral fada, but she’d never met one. The fada kept things like that hushed up, but everyone knew that a feral was under his animal’s control. If they were peaceful, they were allowed to live out the rest of their (short) lives as their animal, and if not, they were quietly executed.

  She sent another nervous look at Mys. He seemed calm enough, but she sensed something dark simmering beneath that composed exterior.

  Stop it, she snapped at herself. This is bad enough—don’t make it worse.

  Then Mys glanced at her and the darkness was there in his eyes. She flinched—she couldn’t help it—and he smiled.

  She tightened her grip on her knees, then hated herself when he noticed. Her chin lifted. He might hold the upper hand but she was damned if she’d let him intimidate her.

  He reclined on one elbow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “You should join us, glika. We’re founding a new clan. You’d be welcomed, treated like a princess.”

  Join them and become chief breeder for a den of renega
des? She suppressed a shudder. “Thank you, but no.”

  Mys’s face darkened. He crossed the few feet to her and crouched down. “So polite.” He took her chin in a cruel grip. “But when you’re mine, you’ll learn I don’t like to be told no.”

  She met his eyes. “I’ll never be yours,” she returned quietly but firmly. She would’ve liked to add that she was Tiago’s, but something told her to be careful. The less they knew, the better.

  “No? We’ll see about that.” Mys bared his teeth in a smile that was pure animal. The grip on her chin tightened.

  She swallowed but refused to look away. Mys might think he could mate with her but it would be nearly impossible for him to father a child on her. Fae and fada rarely conceived outside the mate bond, and she was Tiago’s mate—or as close as made no difference. Nothing could change that except his death.

  That shook her. What if Mys found out about her and Tiago, that Tiago had only to accept the mating for the bond to be complete? Mys might use it as an excuse to kill Tiago.

  She dropped her eyes. Mys gave a satisfied grunt and returned to his place beside his friend.

  She decided to chance a question. “Excuse me. Orius?”

  The big shifter lifted a shaggy black brow. “What?”

  “What are you going to do with Tiago?”

  “Don’t you worry about him,” was the gruff reply. “As long as he cooperates, you’ll be all right. If he does as he’s told, you’ll go free.”

  Mys growled a dissent and Orius sliced him a look. “The alpha commands it. Hurt her, and we won’t have just Rock Run and the Baltimore shifters to deal with. The dryads will bring the fae down on us.”

  “So? We already have the sun fae after us. Tyrus’s ward will protect—”

  “Shut up,” Orius snarled and Mys subsided.

  Alesia blinked. Lord Tyrus was part of this?

  The night fae lord had tried to kill Merry Jones at least once. Tyrus was heir to the night fae prince. Poor Merry was some sort of relation, and Tyrus was bent on wiping out all competition for his father’s throne. Prince Langdon had protected the girl with a special ward to ensure Tyrus couldn’t hurt her directly, but it would be just like him to make a deal with rogue shifters that would end in Merry’s death. Tyrus was a snake in expensive, custom-made clothing.

  Alesia scrutinized Orius’s flat, hard face. He seemed more reasonable than Mys. She only hoped he could keep his friend under control. Orius gazed back unsmilingly, which reassured her more than a smile would have.

  And it was true that hurting her would involve the fae. Her people were personally weak, but their Gift for making things grow meant the more powerful fae looked out for them, kept them under their collective wing. But even without the fae’s protection, most fada clans welcomed dryads with open arms, knowing how beneficial they were to the local ecosystem.

  But these weren’t most fada. They were wild, savage. Animals on two legs.

  And they already had the Rock Run fada, the Baltimore shifters and the sun fae after them. What did they have to lose?

  She felt a moan rising deep inside her. She bit down on her lip hard to stifle it. She looked up to find Mys looking at her again and hurriedly averted her eyes.

  For a time the only sound in the cave was the two men breathing.

  “Why Tiago?” Alesia blurted when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Is it because he’s Lord Dion’s brother?”

  Orius grunted.

  “But what can Tiago can do?” Did they know about his Gift?

  “Jorge wants Dion. To challenge him for alpha.”

  Alesia blinked. “Challenge him? But—”

  “You take the brother, you get the alpha.”

  “So Jorge is using Tiago to lure Dion into a trap…” It was starting to make sense now.

  “Never you mind about that,” Orius said maddeningly. He rummaged around in the messenger bag and found her candy, and proceeded to pop a whole handful of her precious chocolates in his mouth.

  He offered the box to Mys, and together, they finished it off.

  She watched, openmouthed. And then suddenly, she was burning mad. Because damn it, she’d waited five years for Tiago to get over Cleia. Five frigging years. And now that he had, she hadn’t even had one whole day to enjoy it.

  If she could’ve, she’d have slain Mys and Orius where they stood, and then headed out after Jorge. Because Tiago was her mate—and these asses had hurt him.

  She clenched her jaw and boldly met Mys’s unrelenting stare.

  He started to rise to his feet but Orius was faster.

  “Out.” Orius set a hand on Mys’s chest and jerked his chin toward the entrance. “Now. Catch some fish. I don’t know about you, but my belly’s still not full.”

  Mys glared at his friend for a moment, then to Alesia’s relief, nodded and slipped from the cave.

  Orius waited until he was gone and then crossed the few steps between them. He lifted her by the shoulders as if she were a ragdoll and gave her a hard shake.

  “Don’t you know anything about fada, woman? Staring into a man’s eyes like that is a challenge. Don’t do it unless you’re prepared to accept the consequences. Understand?” He shook her again.

  She gulped and nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said, all the fight leaching out of her.

  Orius shook his head and released her. Off-balance, she stumbled backward until she hit the wall and then sat down heavily.

  It was while the two of them waited, silent again, that something occurred to her. Whatever reason Jorge had had for kidnapping Tiago originally, there was a good chance he now knew about Tiago’s Gift. After all, he’d seen him kill Benny.

  Jorge knew how dangerous Tiago was, but still wanted him. Because of Dion.

  A chill slid over her skin. She hugged her legs tightly to her chest.

  Just what, exactly, did Jorge want Tiago to do?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “It’s time.” Jorge shook Tiago’s shoulder. “Get up.”

  Tiago grunted and beneath the blindfold, blinked sleep-encrusted eyes.

  Jorge hadn’t said why he wanted Dion but it didn’t take a genius to connect the dots. Jorge sought revenge for having been sent to the Sahara, but that wasn’t all. He wanted what Dion had—his woman, his clan—and as an oath-breaker, he didn’t have the right to meet the Rock Run alpha in a straight challenge.

  So Jorge was going to use Tiago to compel Dion to accept his challenge. “And I’d better win,” Jorge had growled. “For your dryad’s sake.”

  At first Tiago had been relieved that the other man wasn’t ordering him to kill his brother outright, until he realized it didn’t matter.

  This challenge would be to the death—and it was Tiago’s job to make sure that Jorge didn’t lose. He’d nodded, but inside his mind was racing.

  After that, Jorge left him alone. Tiago searched desperately for a solution, but his head was pounding. He couldn’t think straight. He must have passed out again, which turned into sleep. He’d dreamt of Alesia, being tormented by Mys and Orius while he watched, unable to help.

  His mate.

  Deus, he’d barely had time to take it in when she’d been stolen from him. He wasn’t even sure if she knew they were mates; in fada, the males usually knew before the females.

  Alesia had looked at him with tortured eyes and whispered, “Help me.” He’d nearly gone crazy trying to break free so he could get to her.

  Now Jorge growled and gave him another shake. “Up.”

  He grunted and struggled to sitting. He could tell by his internal clock that it was morning. His head still hurt, but it was nothing like the pain tugging at his chest, as if the mate bond were alive and trying to literally drag him out of there and back to Alesia.

  Jorge nudged him impatiently. Tiago stifled a groan. His entire body was stiff and his arms were numb from being bound behind his back for so long. Just moving them was painful. He flexed his fingers, knowing he had to force s
ome life into them or risk losing their use altogether. His wrists were raw and sticky with blood. He must have struggled in his sleep against the leather thong.

  He saw again Alesia pleading for help. They were keeping her a cave; he was sure of it—and she hated being underground. His chest tightened, the black despair threatening to descend again. He shook it off.

  This was no dream. He was awake, and Alesia needed him.

  “I’m going to cut you free,” Jorge told him. “But remember, we have the dryad. Don’t touch that fucking blindfold. You try anything and she’s dead, entende?”

  Tiago gave a short nod. “Sim.” At least the man sounded lucid. Tiago would rather deal with his rational side than the feral.

  Jorge waited another beat before bending to cut the leather binding his wrists. Tiago clenched his teeth to keep from groaning aloud as blood rushed into the numb limbs, burning and prickling from his fingertips to his shoulders. Gingerly, he brought his hands forward to rest on his lap. His shoulders cramped in protest. It was agony just to move.

  He forced himself to work through the pain: flexing his fingers, rotating his wrists and bending his elbows back and forth.

  When he could move somewhat normally again, Jorge handed him the canteen, then took him outside so he could relieve himself. Before they returned to the cavern, he allowed Tiago to take a long drink from the stream and then lift the blindfold enough to rinse the grit from his eyes, but made sure the blindfold was tight again before they went back inside.

  As Tiago sat down again, Jorge set something on the ground before him. “Here,” he growled. “Eat.”

  Tiago felt in front of him. It was a canteen and a bowl of food—fresh-caught shad, from the scent. His stomach growled. He grabbed them both before Jorge could change his mind.

  He took a long drink from the canteen, and then capped it and turned his attention to the fish. There were no utensils so he used his fingers to scoop it into his mouth. It was a basic ceviche—chunks of raw shad cured in lemon juice and flavored with chili peppers—but beneath the blindfold his eyes closed in pleasure. He would’ve eaten anything—he needed food to fuel not only his healing but his Gift—but this was delicious, the fish fresh and sweet.