by T. A. Grey
Lysette watched him, mouthing twitching with a hint of laughter. “You are a big man aren’t you? Like a giant. You must think I’m crazy.” A pause. “Do you? Do you think I’m crazy, Jo MacKellen?”
On the spot, Jo froze. What was the correct answer to her question, his brain struggled to figure out quickly. He was never good at figuring things out on the spot.
“Jo is that short for...Joseph?” she asked curiously, still coming closer. She’d pulled on a pair of high heels that ticked along the floors. Such a womanly sound.
Jo shifted uncomfortably.
She stopped in front of him. He caught a whiff of her scent--delicate but rich. It reminded him a musky high-class women’s perfume. But that scent was uniquely her own, he knew, not scenting any false odors on her.
“I asked you a question. You will answer it.” A command.
Think of Hanna.
That gave him enough motivation. He didn’t want to answer this question, any leverage she had on him would only be used against him or Hanna.
“Jonas. My names is short for Jonas.”
Both red eyebrows rose and a smile formed at her shapely mouth. “Jonas? How lovely.”
“What will it take to free Hanna and Alex? We are willing to offer 1000 livestock of your choosing, a heavy dowry, and an alliance between our two packs. If ever you’re in danger, the MacKellens will be there to offer assistance. We have a large army.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “I care not for your cows and pigs. And I care little for your money. I have plenty. But there are other things I do not have.”
Her eyes remained focused on his. Yet Jo stiffened, instantly uncomfortable. She made him feel like she’d racked her gaze up and down his body, seen him naked in the flesh. Yet she’d done none of those things. The heat and meaning lay in her eyes, the burning ring of blue. Never ever had a woman given him such a blatant staring as she did without doing anything at all.
Think of Hanna.
“What will it take then to come to an agreement?” Jo spoke between clenched teeth.
“Perhaps arrangements can be made.”
A spark ignited. This was the first talk of the queen conceding anything towards freeing Hanna and Alex of their crimes.
“What do you want?” What would it take?
A lone, single finger, the tip punctuated by a long nail painted ruby red pointed at him, nearly touching his chest.
“Kiss me and we’ll find out.”
Jo should win an award for not showing a reaction. But inwardly, he couldn’t pick his jaw up off the ground.
“No.” His answer instant, quick.
Her eyes, fiery with anger, a raging inferno just waiting to explode, snapped at him. “You refuse me?”
He had the feeling most people didn’t get to refuse the queen’s advances.
“I won’t take you to bed if that’s what you’re asking. And I won’t kiss you. I’m not going to be some fuck for you.”
Still, he was stunned she’d ask him so boldly.
Women usually got the hint with his attitude to stay away from him. But she didn’t seem so put off.
An odd woman, certainly.
Crazy, he believed was the term for it.
She snorted. “Like hell you won’t. You’re a man, aren’t you? What is wrong? You don’t find me attractive?” Hands on her hips, she appeared more annoyed than angry.
Jo shook his head. This wasn’t going to end well. For either of them.
Even if he did touch her, he didn’t believe for one minute that this woman was so vapid as to think a quick lay would free Hanna. Nah, she’d use him then want more.
So, he made a different choice.
“I’m outta here.” He turned to leave but found a rather strong grip grabbing him by the arm to stop him.
“You don’t leave until I say you can.”
Jo stared down at her, then got in her face leaning down far to get close. Her eyes flickered to his mouth, and almost sub-consciously, his gaze flickered back to hers too. Damn it. “Not interested. Got it? Ever.”
Her jaw clenched. Her chest brushed his, anger bunching her muscles like tightly wound cord.
“I’ll make them into slaves,” she sneered, lip quivering.
Fuck. She was going to try to use Hanna and Alex against him. For what? A make out session with him? She could get any man she wanted. But not him.
“Go find some other cock.”
Jo turned, his boots stomping the ground as he left, slamming the door hard behind him. He heard the sound of glass shattering a moment later against the door.
That wine glass never had a chance.
Chapter THIRTEEN
“Wakey, Wakey!”
Violent knocking startled Hanna and Alex out of sleep. Wincing, Hanna grumbled as her back flared with pain. Grimacing, she looked over at Alex who had much the same expression. Poor guy had gray circles darkening under his eyes. Stubble along his square jaw was beginning to come in. It looked good on him, she thought, appreciating the rugged look. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.
The door burst open and Broderick, the queen’s personal guard, stood there. “Time to move. Let’s go. You’ve got five minutes.”
The door slammed shut, rattling her ears.
Her stomach grumbled but as she began dressing and taking care of her morning business--not as difficult as she thought it would be with Alex there--something else bothered her. A dull ache in her lower abdomen. Like cramps. She played it off as just hunger but as she stepped out of the bathroom, she nearly ran into Alex.
She mumbled an apology as he slid past her into the bathroom.
But something strange happened. She froze as she found Alex unexpectedly touching her. Gently he placed his hands upon her waist and leaned down to sniff at her neck.
“Damn...did you do something?” His voice cracked from sleep.
Her breath stuttered as her body tensed at his nearness. If she but turned her cheek left, they would touch. Cheek to cheek. “N-no. What are you talking about?”
For the barest of moment she felt his warm nose press into her neck, could feel him inhale her scent and breath the air back out. She shivered at the sensation, nipples pulling tight. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from doing something stupid such as leaning into him.
“You smell...amazing. Are you hiding some perfume in there?” He pulled back, one corner of his mouth crooked upward in a lop-sided grin that made her stomach flip-flop.
Her lips naturally moved to mimic his expression, heart at once fluttering with nerves. “No, I promise. I probably stink from lack of showering actually.”
He grunted in disbelief. “You’re probably the one person in the whole world you smells better from not showering.” Laughing to himself, he went in the bathroom and did his business.
Hanna let out a deep breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.
Their five minutes up, they followed Broderick. Outside their room, they were handcuffed before being “escorted” through the castle. They passed servants and personnel readying for the morning work. They stared at Hanna and Alex with wide, watchful eyes. Some with hate.
The feel of shackles bounding her was something else. An entirely new fear, like she was completely out of control of her life. Because she was. But ever the determined MacKellen she would find strength. She would find a way out of this. Even if it meant only being able to save Alex’s life. He had nothing to do with this, so at the very least she needed to find a way to get him home safely. Even if her life ended in this snow-drenched pack.
* * * * *
“Chop these logs when you’re finished with that stack,” the bastard ordered, a cheek-to-cheek grin on his face. Hell, it looked like torturing Alex gave this SOB guard a helluva good time. The guard was a big hairy bastard with knotted dirty-blond hair far too long for his chubby face. The grisly, matted beard he kept was wiry and disheveled; it even had crumbs stuck in it. Probably from morning breakfast. He looked li
ke an old, fat Viking.
Alex wiped the sweat from his brow and sent the guard a murderous look. The guard laughed at him, then slapped him on the back like they were old pals. Only he slapped hard enough to make Alex’s teeth to clink together. Fucking asshole.
Give me an inch on the line, and I’ll rip that smile off your face with my bare hands, pal. They kept the chains on him, but with enough slack so he could work. How fucking nice of them, huh?
God, he couldn’t wait to get out of this place. Today was Monday morning. He hadn’t seen his bed since Friday night. And now a new question remained: would he ever see it again?
Crack.
He split open a log. At least this was something he knew: woodcutting, splitting logs. Easy but repetitive.
They’d taken him out back, kept him under strict guard while they set him up to work. Which made him wonder just where the hell they stashed Hanna. What kind of work were they making her perform?
Craaack. Another log split as he slammed the axe down. Even harder than his last strike. Goddamn but he was mad. Angry. Enough to ensure he cut each log nice and hard, giving him reign to take out his anger, unleash it. The tip of the steel blade caught the flat edge of the log and split it down the middle, but the blade didn’t go all the way through. He lifted the axe and log, and tapped it against the base, heaving the log into two even halves.
Little did these fucks know, he hated being caged. Yeah, his dad had tried that shit once. Once. You didn’t keep him locked up though, made him stir-crazy.
His breath puffed out in little white clouds as he worked. His muscles grew warm and even perspiration wetted his body. Flurries drifted down from the cloudy gray sky. At least, out here, he had a beautiful sight. The landscape.
Sprawling snowbanks as far as the eyes could see. If you stepped into it, your foot would drop to the knee in snow. Must’ve been four to five feet, even higher in some areas where the wind had pushed even more snow. Guards around these parts wore snow boots, thick gloves, full-head masks, and heavy jackets. They lived for this weather, for the bitter cold and the white snow.
Alex didn’t mind the cold, but the snow was a whole other matter. Talk about a hindrance. A major one if and when he tried to escape with Hanna. Snow meant you left footprints--tracks. That was no good. Not good at all. That didn’t stop him from coming up with plans though. His eyes already studying the land, learning it. They had a few miles of open snowy expanse on either side of the castle. Out in the distance, he saw the heavy dark-green evergreens swaying in the breeze. Heavy snow piles hung on the branches, weighing the weak limbs down so that they bowed back to the earth.
In the background, Alex could hear yipping from hunter dogs. They relied on them out here in the wilderness. Patrols using snowmobiles, their small engines revving in a high-pitched squeak, roared off in the distance, spewing fluffy white dust in their wake as they made their rounds.
That led him to wonder: where was the rest of the pack? In his mind, he was drawing a map. He figured from where Remi had parked Hanna had been far south in their pack. Remi had wanted space and quiet for his bad deeds. The thought made his fist clench and the next log he got set up, flew apart as he struck it, his anger getting hold of him.
“Hey, watch it there buddy,” the guard said, chuckling.
His eye ticked with restrained anger. Barely restrained.
“If that girl of yours is half the worker you are the queen will have to come up with more chores.” He bent over in two, cackling a wheezing laugh.
Alex planted the base of his axe on the wood platform and merely looked at the guard. He didn’t know what his expression looked like but it was enough to cool the guard’s laughter. He straightened, then seemed to remember who was in charge.
“Hey there, get back to work! Before I make ya!”
Molars grinding, Alex nodded very slowly, ever calculating. He proceeded to chop.
If he were to try to escape with Hanna, they’d want to head south. Away from the Gerioux pack.
He cut a log, then tossed it on the woodpile beside him. Of course, that posed a problem. How were they supposed to escape when everything south of them was perfectly packed snow and heavily forested? They’d be seen easily and tracked quickly.
Shit. Alex didn’t know how he was going to get them out of this, but he knew he’d die trying.
* * * * *
Guards dragged Hanna downstairs, past the steamy morning smells of the kitchen preparing breakfast for the house, and down a spiral wooden staircase below the kitchens where other women were already busy at work.
The laundry room.
Hanna found her eyes widening. This was her new task? Her work? Laundry. She hated doing it at home, but here? Large steam baths, manually stirred by the women who’s hand were chapped and pink from touching hot water and chemicals.
The guard shoved her forward none-too-gently. Hanna whipped around, teeth gnashing.
“Whoa there girly,” the guard taunted her with laughter in his voice. “Get in there. The queen’s ordered you to do some women’s work.” He grinned before leaving, slamming the heavy door closed and locking it behind him.
Hanna turned to face the laundry room--and froze--as every single woman had stopped working. They turned to face her, staring at her with open-eyed wonderment.
“It’s her!” she heard whispered.
“Hanna MacKellen,” others said. More whispers went about, somehow telling the story of Hanna and Remi.
“She killed him,” someone said beneath their breath.
“He probably deserved it.” That particulate statement caught Hanna’s attention, swiftly diverting her attention. She stormed in the direction of those words.
“Who said that?” Women darted away, not wanting to be near, but a few stood by, wary. “Who said that about Remi? Was it you?” Hanna pointed at a small woman holding a pile of white sheets bigger than she was.
The girl quickly shook her head before darting away. Hanna pointed at the girl next to her. “You. What do you know about Remi?” She had to know what they meant. How did he deserve it?
The girl shook her head, then darted away leaving only one female behind. Maybe in her twenties with a blonde braid. “You! It was you. Please, tell me what you meant by that.” The women cloistered around them, meandering closer so they could hear the conversation over the hiss of the steam pipes and boiling water. It was loud down here. Like a manufacturing plant. Engines and machines pumping and roaring as they worked run by these women.
The blonde woman had clear blue eyes on a pretty face. The girl, probably no older than twenty-one, reminded her of Kaity, her own younger sister. The girl looked around at the women watching, then stepped closer so she could be heard over the swishing, watery sounds of the laundry room.
“Remi was a prick.”
Gasps sprung up around the group.
“I’d heard that he liked to take his dates out to this secret location. Sometimes he’d get fresh...whether they wanted it or not.”
“No shit.” The words just came out of Hanna’s mouth. So stunned was she at this proclamation. He’d done this before? With other girls? Her stomach instantly churned with a sickly feeling. She pressed a hand to it, could feel the muscles spamming beneath her clammy palm.
“Can you explain some more?”
Suddenly a larger woman burst forward, salt-and-pepper hair pulled back into a severely bun. Many hairs had escaped to fan around her ruddy face. “I’ve heard enough of this. You’ll not be desecrating the princes’ name in front of me, girl! He was a good man. Get back to your station!”
The girl, Hanna knew she’d remember her face so she could catch her later, ran off into the crown disappearing.
“And you—” the big woman said, “get to ironing!”
The woman shoved Hanna into the back corner. A large rectangular table sat there with heavy, old-fashioned irons waiting nearby on shelves. A few woman already took positions here, busily grabbing the irons an
d pressing large white sheets and other things.
“Um, I’ve never ironed a thing in my life.”
The old woman’s lip curled. “Why am I not surprised? You don’t look like you’ve worked a hard day in your life. Take after Anne there, she’ll show you how it’s done. Now back to work!” she shouted. “All of you!”
And like that, the crowd dispersed, everyone falling back to their respective positions. The drama over.
Hanna listened to Anne’s advice on the ironing, but all the while, her eyes scouted for that girl. The one with the long blonde braid. She had pretty hair, soft and shiny. But she couldn’t find her anywhere.
Chapter FOURTEEN
By time Hanna was lead back upstairs, her stomach had long gone on empty. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Her hands hurt. Fingertips becoming calloused and her palms were red from squeezing that hot iron over sheet after sheet after sheet. Until the steam blew in her face and she’d sweated on a cover. Only to get yelled at by the overseer lady.
“Now that has to be re-washed and you’re gonna be the one to do it!”
At least the overseer lady had been right about something--doing laundry for an entire castle was hard work. Her hands hadn’t hurt this bad since that time she burnt her hands on a baking sheet that had just come out of the oven.
The mysterious guard who worked privately for the queen came and took her upstairs. As she passed through the kitchens, she spotted a roasted chicken in the oven. Her mouth watered and stomach grumbled at the sight of food. She hadn’t had any all day, and they hadn’t fed her before. Hell, she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she ate now that she thought about it. Must’ve been when Remi took her out.
At least that explained her stomach pain, because that hadn’t stopped all day. In fact, it seemed to be getting progressively worse. Her stomach muscles bugling and twisting into knots that no amount of rubbing would help.
On one of the counter was a tomato. Hanna’s eyes rounded, and after quickly checking her surroundings, she snatched it up taking huge bites into it. The juicy vegetable burst in her mouth and she feasted quickly, red juices and seeds spilling down her palms.