by Rae Monet
With hands extended, she cautiously moved forward. She took one wary step after another, wondering with each one, where it would lead her. Suddenly, alerted that something was missing, Serena stopped and ran her hands over her own body, wanting to feel for the security and comfort of her weapons. Her hands continued their exploration then stopped with certainty. She was unarmed.
"Damnation.” She swore out loud and shook her head wondering what good it did to voice her frustration. No one was listening. At the discovery she was unarmed, she crouched down low and surveyed the mist.
Now what?
Unexpectedly, the mist cleared, and she remained crouched low to the ground, her eyes frantically searching.
Where was she?
What...? Serena rose when she recognized her location. It was the clearing, the very camp that she, Richard and Roan had worked so quickly to assemble.
Glancing around, she took a guarded step toward the clothing that Roan had carefully arranged by the fire to dry. She spun around and saw, to her surprise, that she was looking at an exact replica of herself. Clutched in Roan's arms, she was resting peacefully at his side. One of his hands was tangled in the dark hair at her neck, while the other rested on her head. Watching them from this position she realized how protectively he held her.
He was attempting to guard her.
Even in his sleep, he was trying his hardest to keep her safe. She smiled at the implication.
Just as she walked forward, she felt a prick against her neck and the familiar feel of a sturdy blade pressed there. She sucked in a quick breath, and rotating her eyes to the side, she tried to identify her attacker.
"No need to labor so hard to ascertain who I am. I am more than willing to identify myself."
"Ziem.” She hissed out his name as if it was a vile curse.
"Ohhh, Serena, you wound me with your disdain. Why so unhappy to see me? Observe ... as a token of my goodwill I will release you.” With those words Ziem swiftly pulled his sword away, leaving a small nick on her neck. She noticed a small prick also appeared on the neck of the woman who curved so comfortably against Roan. The body jerked before the cut appeared. Her hand clasped over her neck to stop the small blood flow.
"Ahh, yes, I see that you noticed. What I inflict in your dreams also hurts your physical form."
Her eyes swung to Ziem's hooded expression as he fingered the crystal around his neck. With a flash of quick thinking, she decided to take immediate action. “Is that so, Ziem? Does that work both ways? Let us find out?” As she was speaking, she fisted a hand and strategically placed the other hand under it in a cupping fashion. She swung her fist, propelling it with her body weight and the strength of both arms, directly into his face.
He was surprised ... her fist plowed into his face, and he went down like a sack of highland boulders, his feet flying out from under him, to land heavily on the ground.
Not waiting for him to get his breath back, she was on him in a flash, her fists flying, hoping to strike something, anything. It didn't matter. At this point all she wanted to do was punish him for the week of anguish he had put her through. Invading her dreams and mind, making her dread falling to sleep for fear of what would happen, when he would appear. Sometimes he didn't come at all. This was a different type of torment. One that was designed to torture her in an altogether distinct way, mentally, rather than physically. Every time she fell asleep, she anticipated his tricks. In her dreams she peered around every corner, eyes shifting with suspicion, heart beating, sweat beading on her brow. When would he come? She would question. When?
"Does your physical body hurt as well, Ziem?” she screamed and continued to strike, taking pleasure in the blood and bruises that were forming on his face. She wouldn't be able to keep him down for long. Ziem was a strong warrior in mind and body. Standing nearly as tall as Roan, his skills were honed like a finely tuned instrument and enhanced by the crystal. Hearing his yell, she prepared herself as Ziem pushed her so hard she sailed through the air and landed on her back.
"I will kill you,” he roared, as he charged her.
Serena jumped up and backed toward the trees, intending to run. She didn't make it. He was on her before she could turn and flee, and she returned to her back with an oomph.
Ziem smiled.
"Mayhap we will have some fun before I kill you.” His dagger moved very slowly, almost gently to sever one of the leather thongs holding her vest closed. It opened revealing her breast. His hand cupped the weight.
"You should have chosen me. You should have.” He fingered her nipple.
She cringed, bucking under him.
Without forewarning, she heard Roan's voice in her mind.
Serena, come back. Serena!
She shook her head, closing her eyes to embrace his call. It became more urgent.
Come back to me!
Roan shouted her name and that final call helped her draw into herself. She honed in with her mind ability and concentrated on his voice. She pictured him in her senses and told herself to wake up. She barely recognized Ziem's cries of protest.
"Damn that man to hell!” That was the last phrase she heard. When she next opened her eyes, it was to the concerned expression of Roan.
"Serena.” He held a cloth to her neck.
"What happened?” she levered herself off the log.
"You were caught in a nightmare, by Ziem I suspect.” Richard materialized next to her and efficiently checked her wound. Her shoulder appeared untouched. He took over for Roan and gently lifted the cloth off her neck.
"It is not deep, merely a scratch."
She growled when her memory returned.
"I wish I had killed him this time!"
"What went on?” As Richard signaled to him, Roan took over holding the bandage on her neck. Richard left to retrieve his bag from his horse. When he returned, he gently picked up her hands. Both Roan and Richard saw her bruised and bloodied hands. She clenched her fists and sucked in a breath at the pain. Then she actually did the unimaginable—she laughed. Roan looked at her with an expression of disbelief.
"As you can see.” She held up the back of her hands to add credibility to her next statement. “I was not the only one hurt. I delivered damage myself and without weapons, mind you. Can you guess where these bruises came from?"
"Serena."
Roan's warning had her attempting to stifle her laughter—laughter that had almost a hysterical sound to it.
"You should have seen his face when I hauled off and busted him with both fists."
"I can imagine.” Roan did not appear amused as he tended one hand and Richard worked on the other.
"God's blood, Richard. Is there nothing we can do to stop this?” his voice elevating, “This man will kill her if he gets half a chance."
"Do not talk as if I am not here. I can defend myself. I am a trained warrior. Do not worry overmuch."
"A trained warrior.” His head jerked up at her statement. “A trained warrior,” he said again just to emphasize his point. “Let me remind you what you face. Yes, you are a trained warrior. One that is injured, without her wolf protector, without weapons, without any device to enhance her skills, and without any other skilled warriors to help her.” He pulled the wrappings around her hand so tight in his anger she winced.
"Not very amenable odds I would say."
She reacted to his insinuation. She held out both hands, “Step back, both of you. Now!” Richard and Roan stopped tending her hands and looked at each other. With a nod from Richard, they both arose and stepped back as she had requested. Serena jerked to her feet unsteadily. She pointed her finger at Roan when he moved forward. “I said step back, Englishman."
He stopped.
"I do not,” she started to unwrap the bandages from her hands. Neither man moved to stop her. They could see she was pushed beyond her limit. “Need these bandages.” She unraveled both, then smartly handed them to Richard. “Nor do I need others to protect me. I have done very we
ll for five and twenty years without it.” She turned and barked the last statement to Roan. His eyebrows rose at her announcement. He looked ready to pounce on her and that just angered her more.
She turned to walk away from them. Unfortunately, she had pivoted too quickly and her head reeled, causing her vision to blur. She instinctively pushed out a hand, only to have it drop into nothingness. Her knees buckled, and she fell with a grunt. She tried to steady herself, but the hand that reached out touched the cold dirt. She raised her other hand to her whirling head.
What is wrong with me? she wondered.
Had all of the strain and tension finally defeated her? She glanced over her shoulder. Richard and Roan had not moved. They both watched her with pained expressions on their faces.
She eased one foot under her and managed to struggle to one knee leaning her head and arms against it. That was it, she told herself. Her body was breaking down physically. The lack of sleep, the injuries—all of them were beating her down. She needed to rest. How long had she slept?
She would not accept this.
She fought her way back into a standing position, easing her body straight. She would not slow their purpose—they had to find Ziem. Absorbed in placing one foot in front of the other, Serena didn't notice when Richard and Roan shifted positions around her. She froze when the nausea from her swirling head threatened to overcome her. Then she felt her eyes roll back as the blackness finally claimed her.
* * * *
When Serena finally collapsed, she never hit the ground because Roan was there to catch her. He swore as he heaved her into his arms.
"Richard, your sister is the paradigm of stubbornness.” He signaled to Richard, then laid her on the blanket that Richard had spread for her.
"Humph, that is an understatement of the grossest nature.” Richard laid his hand on her brow.
"She is well, she is simply in need of undisturbed rest.” Roan nodded as he gently fingered the bruises on her knuckles.
"She was proud of these, was she not?” He touched the cut on her neck and felt a renewed rage at the man called Ziem, who so plagued his woman. His woman. His hand stopped its movements.
Where did that come from?
Was Serena his? Why had he claimed her? Why would he?
She was the most inflexible woman he had ever met. She was also the most beautiful, courageous and loyal one and, yes, he sighed to himself, she would be his, in this he was resigned.
"She has always taken as much pride in her battle wounds as she has her independence. She is arrogant that way.” Richard spoke quietly. “Do not take her harshly spoken words to heart. When she is injured, she has been likened to a wounded wolf."
"I can see that.” Roan laid a hand on her hair and lightly stroked it.
"Hand her up to me. Let's ride. I cannot even fathom what will happen if she awakens, and we are not on the trail. She will sleep comfortably in my arms."
"Agreed."
Richard lifted Serena into his arms, as Roan retrieved their gear.
"I confess, I swear the day I was frightened by a woman's wrath I would turn in my spurs.” He strapped Richard's bag to his horse then easily launched onto his.
"That should be this day, Richard, I swear it."
Richard chuckled at his statement as he transferred Serena to his waiting arms.
* * * *
Ziem swore and jerked his body awake and up from its prone position on the straw-filled mattress. He winced as he fingered the cuts and bruises on his face. He raised his hand to survey the damage. He flinched and yanked his hand away, then cringed when he saw his own wet blood against his fingers. Curse that woman, he thought, and groaned as he swung his strong, muscled legs around and off the edge of the bed.
Moving slowly, Ziem eased off the bed and made his way toward the empty bowl and accompanying water pitcher beside it. Now he was glad he had requested that dim-witted bar wench to fetch him the water. Ziem splashed the water over his face, growling as he did so.
He thought about Serena. He had almost had her this time. He grinned against the hand cupping the water and washed it over his face. Almost, he concluded. He really didn't want to kill her; he just so enjoyed threatening her. He also took pleasure in tormenting her dreams.
This time when she had joined him in their dream world, Ziem had noticed the dark purple circles under her eyes. What he really wanted, Ziem told himself, was not just her body—but also her soul. He'd held those lily-white breasts in his hand. His dick grew hard just re-living it. His hand traveled down to cup himself, moving the annoyance in his breeches to accommodate its growing length. His hand remained cupped to his rock-hardness and he groaned, rotating his hand. Just pondering what it would be like to bury himself in her almost made him release in his pants. Ziem braced his arm against the wall and concentrated on ridding himself of this frustrating hard on. Giving up he hauled down his breeches and pulled on his dick.
He had wanted Serena in his life, under his body, fighting next to him from the first moment he had laid eyes on her womanly curves. He remembered that moment well. It was embedded in his mind like the unique carving of a wolf adorned on the hilt of his sword.
* * * *
Ziem's residence lay outside the village of the Realm, although still within the protected valley. It was his choice to build it so, in direct protest to the elders of the Society. His selection to remain alone, outside the Realm, was a statement of his chosen life. He did not agree with the manner in which the elders ran the Society and he told them so in every action he took. He believed that their people, the Society of Solaria, should rejoin the outside world and lay claim to their rightful rank.
The Solarians, Ziem reasoned, were superior to all other people. He was superior. They should have a place of honor, not scorn, in the outside world. He would build an army of dedicated soldiers, teaching them the ways of the Wolf Warriors. They would rule their own territory and with that control would come power. And with that power would come the strength to defeat the English Kingdom that had so unjustly attempted to eradicate his people.
Ziem would form alliances with the King's nobles and attempt to gain the King's favor. With the scrolls he had stolen, he would have no problem convincing the King's nobles that the Society existed and gaining support to build his own force. He would show the King and his trusted men what benefit the strong warriors he could train would gain the King. Ziem recognized that men of power, like the King of England, desired to acquire more. That was why the King had originally ordered the death of the Solarians. King Edward I had feared the Solarians. When he learned of their skills, he became alarmed at their abilities and the alliances they could acquire from those abilities. They had already gained powerful support from the house of Bruce, Scotland's self-proclaimed King, by lending their assistance to his people.
But Ziem had a plan. He would show the new, weaker King, Edward II, what could be attained by embracing Ziem and his talents. He would then join with him to rid Scotland of the weaker Solarians. The ones who believed their anonymity would shield them from the outside world. The ones who believed keeping their powers a secret would save them. The ones like Serena's father—the leader of their people.
Thinking of Serena's father brought Ziem's mind back to that fateful day he had first seen Serena at the river outside the confines of the village. He had known of her as a small girl but had never seen her as a mature woman. She had not directly trained Ziem because he was over ten summers older than she.
Ziem had been trained by Serena's father and had little time for courting the Realm women. Choosing to live outside the Realm after his training had only weakened his ability to make contact with the women of the Realm. He traveled outside the Realm to take his pleasure in neighboring towns, swiftly and quietly.
Of course, no one knew of his travels. He would escape in the deepest, darkest period of the night, when the Realm guards would nod off and he could sneak past them. He was quick and efficient, usually sneak
ing in, stealing the woman of his choice, removing her to a far away place so her screams could not be heard and taking what he needed. Of course, their deaths were usually required after this undertaking. Regretful, but required. He needed no simpering woman crying out the next day about his exploits.
That day, the day he had noticed Serena, she was bent over the river. Her hands were cupping the clear, flowing water, and she was heartily drinking from them. She was almost delicate in her strength. Although most women of the Realm were tall, hearty women, she was small in stature. Her curves stood out and screamed to him as he slowly knelt in the place he had chosen to watch her.
He sucked in his breath at her beauty.
The woman was exquisite. Her dark hair was pulled over one shoulder as she leaned over, showing the delicate curve of her breast against her leather halter. She had removed her vest. It was a particularly warm day, and it seemed she had chosen that riverside location because she felt it was private. She began to cup more water and gracefully slide it over the skin of her upper body. The water pooled, pausing momentarily, then slipped down her arms, cascading over her halter dampening the front, and down to her stomach, where it disappeared into her tightly fitting leather breeches. Ziem had felt an immediate and painful hardening of his penis and he knew he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any other woman.
He didn't even know her name or her place in the Society. He just knew that, with one simple look at her body, his lust was unequaled to any other experience he had ever had. He watched as she continued her uncomplicated bathing, hearing her sigh as the water cooled her obviously over-heated skin. At that sigh, Ziem had launched into action, coming fast from his hiding place, to hopefully take her unaware.
She stopped moving, as if she knew his intent. It was the wrong assumption to think he could take her without notice, because upon his upsweep, a fierce growl and bark had him stopping in his tracks. His head swiveled as he caught sight of her wolf protector. He was an enormous gray wolf, and his fangs were bared, his eyes almost glowing red with fury. The wolf looked ready to pounce and kill him without a second thought. Ziem froze and his eyes narrowed in anger. What was the matter with him? He should have sensed the wolf, should have realized that a woman of the Realm always traveled with one.