by Renee Wildes
Sharp pain sliced her flank, the warm sticky sensation of blood trickling over her hide. She whirled to see Matteo towering over her with tusks bared. “Move it, princess. Can’t you hear it calling you? Let’s go home.”
She stared back up at the cottage. A black dog barked frantically in the window, paws flying as he looked to dig through the glass. She didn’t want to leave him, didn’t want to leave… “Wait, Matteo.”
He used his greater bulk to herd her forward, into the shallows. The blessed surf crashed over her, and she shivered at the sensuous slide of the water over her body. The salt burned her flank, and she turned a reproachful gaze on him. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You need to obey me, Finora.” Matteo was implacable. Adamant.
Adamant. Resolute. Steadfast. Like the earth she’d left behind. So unlike the ever-changing surge of water that tugged her every which way. She floundered to find her bearings. She struggled to find the euphoria. It eluded her. Something wasn’t right. Something held her back. Her mind clouded in a tidal wave of forgotten sensations. What should she be remembering? Why couldn’t she recall?
“It’s our way, princess. Your sire gave you to me. You must obey me. It’s our way,” Matteo insisted.
Finora dimly remembered the Intending ceremony. She’d said the words. But why did they chafe so, if she’d agreed to go to Matteo? Why did this feel…wrong? She shivered at the cold kiss of the air, whimpered in pleasure as the sweet caress of the sea chased away the icy touch of foreign air.
Matteo nuzzled her neck, and the brush of his whiskers against her oh-so-sensitive skin made her gasp. Every touch was a torture of pleasure, as her body came alive with awareness of need. So big, so strong, the bull aside her. Every instinct within her bowed to the dominant bull. He gripped her neck in his jaws, covering her with his body.
“I could take you now, right here on the shore.” He groaned as he slid along her body. “And you’d beg for more. But when I take you, it won’t be as a rutting beast.”
“A rutting beast.” Those words echoed in her mind, a jangle of discord. Confused, Finora shied away from him and plunged into the surf. She came up gasping, flailing like a pup. There was no purchase, nothing to grab onto—
“What’s wrong with you, Finora?” Matteo sounded supremely irritated. “Start swimming forward.”
It was as if she’d never done this afore. She fought the buoyancy, struggled to hold her breath when Matteo shoved her under. She’d panic, and he’d let her surface for air. Time enough for a single bleat of terror, then he shoved her back down again. Gradually the realization that she wasn’t going to drown sank in, and she relaxed. She gained control over her limbs and rolled and swerved through the water, but it remained…uncomfortable. Almost foreign.
It was beautiful, their sea. Vivid and full of life. Fish of all different types darted in for a closer look, but not close enough for them to grab. She chased them half-heartedly. Her stomach roiled at the thought of eating raw fish.
Why?
Her wound attracted the unwanted attention of a hungry grey shark, but she was too nimble to be caught.
“Look what you’ve done,” she snapped at Matteo.
“If you’d have kept moving, no unpleasantness would have been necessary,” he retorted. “It’s your own fault. Keep moving and you won’t get eaten.”
“Finora?” A familiar female voice sounded in her mind. Matteo gave no indication he heard the newcomer.
“Who are you?” Finora asked. “How do you know me?”
A moment of surprise, of silence, greeted her question. “This isn’t a joke, Finora. Did you trade your skin for your brain?”
“My skin? What are you talking about? What are you?”
“My name’s Bree. I’m the mermaid who happens to be your best friend, selkie. You lost your skin seven years ago. Don’t you remember? It was stolen, hidden. Where did you find it?”
The voice rang with the utter conviction of truth. Mermaid. Fish-people. Selkie. Seal-people. A sudden flash of herself, walking on land on two legs, flashed in her mind’s eye. Finora faltered, and shook her head.
Matteo snapped at her from the corner of her eye. “Keep moving, princess.”
If she was a princess, shouldn’t he be treating her with greater respect? He drove her like a herd dog farther out to sea. What was a dog? An image of an immense black and white dog pawing at a window appeared. How did she know of dogs? Of windows?
“Where are we going?” Finora asked.
“To Matteo’s stronghold. He’s the new king.” Bree sounded disgusted.
“So I’m a princess and he’s a king? He says I’m bound to him by my father. So he’s taking me home?”
“Finora, you shouldn’t want to go with him!” Bree’s words were frantic. “Wake up! He’s a murderer. He killed his own sire, he killed all his bull siblings and he’s going home—now that he’s got you—to rape and impregnate every unrelated cow in the place so they have his offspring. He’ll hand each of his sisters to his henchmen to face the same fate, and he’ll use you to force your father into an alliance with him. An alliance you and your father were against.”
“Why would my father bind me to someone we didn’t like? I remember the Intending ceremony.”
“Because we didn’t know he was crazy back then, that’s why. I rescued one of King Freine’s cows. She’s pregnant with another legitimate heir to the throne Matteo’s stolen. It was your idea to smuggle her into your father’s household. She’s staying with your dam, Fiona. You told me King Griogair would protect her. You were right.”
Finora shuddered. Was the bull she was with really so terrifying? Sure, he was a bully, but…
Bree appeared from the depths, green hair streaming out behind her. “It’s true. You’re back. I can’t wait to tell your father. He’s so worried about you and the children.”
Children? Finora tumbled as dark eyes, dark curls, laughing faces flashed. Braeca. Ioain. Warmth. Love. Pride. Rage. Stars, they’d taken them. Matteo’s men had taken them, given them to the dragon-wizards for who-knew-what purpose. Niadh had almost died protecting them. Trystan was even now trying to free them. It all came rushing back—the storm, pulling Trystan from the surf, Bree throwing his weapons at him. Passion hotter than any she’d ever known.
He risked everything for her and her children. She loved him. She had to get back.
Finora turned, only to have an angry bull ram her like an attacking dolphin. He knocked all the breath out of her, and she doubled up in pain. Without air, she had to scoot to the surface, but even the smallest movement was an agony.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Matteo snarled.
“Leave her alone, you thug!” Bree cried.
He bared his tusks, and Bree gave him a peculiar smile. “Do it. Bite me. Solve all the world’s problems.”
He turned away from the mermaid.
Finora whimpered. “Home. I need to go home.”
“You are going home,” Matteo growled. “You’re born selkie, of the sea. Land was never your home.”
Ioain had to be terrified. Braeca, for all her toughness, was still but six. She couldn’t leave her children behind. “It is now.”
“You have no home there anymore. Those half-human abominations should never have been born. You were mine!” Matteo crackled with black rage. “The children have been claimed for Cilaniestra’s service. She’ll take good care of them—none dare cross Her. And your fickle lover’s mind belongs to the dragon witch as soon as he spills himself in her body. He’ll forget all about you. All humans fall to her allure.”
A knife pierced her heart at the image of Trystan thrusting between the redhead’s legs. Finora shook her head. Nay. Trystan was strong. Guardian. He’d find a way to fight. The thought of her children serving Cilaniestra was too horrific to contemplate. “Bree, go warn my father.”
Bree was off like a thrown trident. “Stay strong, Finora. I swear we’ll find a way out
of this.”
“I’ll make you forget all about your pathetic human lovers.” Matteo’s words were a dark promise that poured through Finora’s mind. “I know the fire that burns in your selkie body with the moon, with the tides. Who else can ease that fire in your blood as well as one who understands and feels it, too? I know what it is to need, to ache for relief. I can pleasure you for hours—as man, as beast. Whatever you want, whatever you need.”
Finora cringed at the docile creature inside who came alive at his words. This was the bull who’d murdered his own family for power, who’d sold her children to a goddess. No matter how her body burned, she’d never take him willingly. She had to find a way out of this. When he brought her afore her father, she’d have a chance to convince Griogair to take a stand against Matteo—to help rescue Braeca and Ioain.
The thought of war between two rival pods was horrific. But Matteo couldn’t be allowed to get away with what he’d done. If Griogair made a pact with Matteo, what prevented Matteo from turning on Griogair one day? Taking everything for himself?
Everything starting with her. Bree’s words shook her—“rape and impregnate”. She’d never want Matteo. But he wanted her. With his greater size and strength, he could take what he wanted with or without her consent, any time he wished. Her heart pounded in her throat, made her dizzy.
They passed through the gateway, into Freine’s—Matteo’s—realm. Finora felt the shimmer pass over her and she staggered upright on legs. Human form. Naked. A fact Matteo was obviously aware of. The fact had barely registered afore he pinned her to the nearest column, a hand knotted in her hair as he took her mouth in a brutal kiss.
Finora tasted blood and bit down. Hard.
With a roar, Matteo jerked back. Spitting blood with every curse, he backhanded her to the floor.
She stared up at the blood on the pillar. Old blood, long dried. She wondered whose it was.
“My lord?” Another bull, almost as big as Matteo, approached.
Matteo whirled. “What is it?”
“We have one harem cow unaccounted for. She’s not here and may have escaped to open water.”
Finora wanted to cheer Bree’s success.
Matteo reached down and hauled her to her feet. “Come with me.” He wrapped an arm about her waist and escorted her to a luxurious suite of rooms befitting royalty. They left her cold. Her skin crawled at his touch. “Have a bath. Have something to eat. Rest.” His eyes gleamed as he gazed at the bed. “Trust me, you’ll need your strength tonight, when I return.” He left and shut the door. She heard a heavy bolt slide home.
Locked. Trapped. Finora, too, stared at the bed. The thought of her and Matteo… Her stomach churned and she barely made it to the basin in time. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Hold on, poppets. Be brave. We will get you out. Please, Trystan, be strong.”
What transpired in the world above? Was Trystan even now succumbing to the dragon whore’s wiles? His mind gone, his soul bound to darkness as Reed’s? Was their last best hope gone?
Finora shivered and rubbed her arms. If Bree could get to King Griogair, did they have yet another chance? She hated waiting. She’d been a prisoner long enough. ’Twas time to think. To plan. When the time came to act, she’d be ready.
Chapter Thirteen
Trystan’s entire body jerked as burning agony tore through him. His hair singed, skin progressively reddened, blistered, blackened, cracked. His very blood boiled. He dropped to the floor, screaming, just like Ioain’s visions, unable to stop himself. Sun and moon, ’twas as if he were being roasted alive. He stared at his arm. Naught. No damage.
The searing pain hit again, blinding.
’Twas not his own pain. ’Twas Niadh’s. He was getting a residual echo through their link. Gods! The real thing, first hand, must be a hundred times worse. “What are ye doing?”
Anuk hauled him to his feet. “So you are bound to the wolf. What happens to the maker affects the made. Interesting. I shall have to tell my father.”
Her touch was unbearable. “What are ye doin’ t’ Niadh?”
“My father needs to have a chat with him. He needs to talk man to man, but those binding spells are hard to break.” Anuk’s eyes were unfathomable. “Shifting aids healing, therefore the need to shift should break the binding, if the need is grievous enough. I can’t believe Niadh will die in that form. The bonds will break, and he’ll shift and heal. Then he and my father can have their little…chat.”
“Yer da is a sadistic bastard,” Trystan snarled. “What does that make ye?”
The daughter of a sadistic bastard. But was she like Spiridon? Truly? He watched an uncomfortable expression cross her face—and wondered. Was she puppet or puppeteer?
“My father hates your kind. Why, I don’t know. But he’s building up an army to invade your land and destroy your people, wipe you from the face of the earth. And you’re going to help him. You and Niadh.”
“Ne’er.”
She smiled, a predator’s show of teeth. “You won’t have a choice. Do you really think to stand against us?”
Trystan shuddered. He had to focus past the pain, had to free the children. “What o’ the bairns?”
“They’re safe in rooms upstairs. Together.”
At least they hadn’t been separated. “Missin’ their ma. Listenin’ to our screams.” Trystan clenched his jaw against another scream. That’s all Ioain needed—to learn his visions of horror came true. He’d never sleep again.
Again a look of discomfort crossed Anuk’s face.
“Ye’re dragonkind. The greatest guardians our world has e’er seen,” Trystan told her. “Have ye ne’er heard the tales? Do ye ken naught o’ yer own history? Has yer da said naught o’ yer ma?” He clutched his stomach and sagged against the wall as another fiery blast robbed him of further speech.
Her eyes narrowed. Not in sympathy, but at least he had her attention. “What’s my mother got to do with anything?”
Trystan laughed mirthlessly, gasping for breath. ’Tis just pain. No’ true damage. Somehow he had to separate himself from Niadh. He focused on the unfamiliar coolness of the sea, the feel of it rushing through his veins. The echo of his bond with Finora. She had expressed no surprise it worked both ways. Could he hold it, use it, without the fire-creatures suspecting? ’Twas harder than he’d thought, but he summoned enough of a cool mist to blunt the worst of it.
“Ye poor wee fool. Ye’re dragonkind. Yer ma has e’erythin’ t’ do with who an’ what ye are.” He staggered to his feet. “Dragons are matriarchal. Knowledge, magic, pass from mother t’ daughter.”
Her gold eyes widened. She looked shocked, but not surprised. Like he did more confirming something she already knew, rather than revealing new information. “Only males have magic.”
“Spiridon told ye that?” Trystan snorted. “Males have magic, aye—but ’tis naught compared t’ the power o’ females. Ye’re bigger than he, stronger than he, an’ yer magic wields the verra power o’ life’s beginnin’.”
“Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’re my prisoner. Mine to do with as I please. I’m taking you to your cell.”
The sensation of choking gripped him. His vision dimmed. Then, as suddenly as it came, it receded. “Take me to the children,” he panted.
“Do you really want them to witness what you’re going through?” Her lips thinned, giving Anuk a sour, unpleasant expression.
At least the pain racking his body overwhelmed the desire she’d attempted to invoke. Did it keep mind and soul together, Trystan decided, pain was preferable to passion. The thought of ending up like Reed was horrific. Death was preferable to slavery.
“O’ all the crimes t’ lay at yer feet, the sufferin’ o’ bairns is the one the Mother willna forgive ye when ye face Her at The End O’ All Things.” He reached for her wrist. “Men at least have the power t’ choose, t’ fight or succumb. But a bairn has naught. ’Tis our greatest duty as g
uardians, to protect the innocent. The weak and helpless.”
“I’m no guardian.”
She was right about that. But she could be. She should be. She could fight Spiridon’s hold over this town as no other could. If she would.
Mayhaps this was why he’d landed here. Not only to find a dragon, but to free one.
Stranger things had happened.
“If I am t’ die here,” he clenched his jaw, “then grant me this one small mercy. Tell me true. Do ye intend harm t’ the children?”
Anuk shook her head, and a terrible weight rolled off his shoulders. “Nay. They’re seers, promised to the service of Cilaniestra. As priest and priestess, their lives will be carefully guarded.”
As long as they lived, rescue and escape were possible. If he and Niadh died, another might someday succeed. “An’ their mother?”
“The selkie? She’s returned to the sea where she belongs. The sea and her skin will drown out all memory of the land—and all on it.” She sniffed. “Including her children. Including you. The selkie king who took her is quite a lusty man. I’m sure he’s wasted no time in giving her something else to think about.”
Her eyes took on a sly glint. “Selkies have passionate natures. Won’t take any time at all for him to seduce her. All creatures of the moon yearn for the pleasures of the flesh. Picture even now, his mouth on hers, his hands on her breasts, her legs wrapped around his…hips…as he thrusts into her willing body. Does she scream when the pleasure takes her, or just bite her lip? Bulls are huge. How quickly she’ll forget you.”
Trystan closed his eyes, tried to close his mind to the images Anuk had invoked. This was a pain he’d no defense against. Selkies did not take exclusive mates. There were no vows betwixt them. Finora had no reason to stay true to one man, especially one in her past. Would she truly forget, or did the tenuous thread holding her to him, to the earth, give her any strength to fight?
Did she even want to fight?
Hold on, my love. Dinna give up on us just yet.