by Candy Nicks
"My, my, don't you look the part? Doesn't she?” Vin clapped his hands together, turned to Ancel, then back to her before Ancel could react. “Shoes, darling! Shoes. You are going to die when you see what I have for you.” The pressure on her back increased. Without words, Ancel was both reassuring her and urging her to go with this strange man.
The man winked and patted Ancel on the arm. “Only borrowing her, big man. Don't panic.” Ancel stayed still as a rock, face impassive, while Carine found herself propelled towards the door by the diminutive whirlwind in the string vest and pants so tight, they left nothing to the imagination.
"Everyone calls me Vin,” her abductor announced. “And don't go trying anything,” he threw back at Ancel without turning around. “Got the whole Praetorian guard out here, just waiting for a piece of you. And I'm not ready to lose you yet."
Carine caught a glimpse of Ancel's blank face as the door closed. Rigid and controlled, he made no move to stop Vin taking her away. Vin first chuckled to himself and then burst into hearty laughter. “I'll have to promote you to chief slave-runner, Carine, my dear. Quite the job you've done on that poor man. Pity about the Wish-in Hand, I could have used that myself, but never mind. The Bonding was a stroke of genius."
"You're a Reader?” The symbol on her palm prickled, agitated at both the intrusion into her mind and because Ancel was now on the other side of the locked metal doors. Mind Readers rarely lived past their prime, and Vin was well past that. The overload on their senses was too much to bear.
"And you have two sisters, a dog called Ayla and you were very careless with your Crystal—naughty girl. Yes, I can see everything that goes on in there.” He pointed to her forehead. “I'm a Reader, and a bloody good one, too.” Vin's voice softened at her bemused expression.
Now she understood the struggle she'd seen in Ancel's face. The lack of emotion. Blocking a Reader was a skill few mastered. Even with her Crystal, she'd had little success at it.
"Ancel's good, I'll give him that.” Vin ushered her before him with a flamboyant sweep of his hand. “But it takes a lot to block me. And we will kill him, if he tries to escape, make no mistake. You tell him that, will you? In there, please.” He clapped his hands, and the guard who'd been following, opened the door and stood back, rock-still, eyes front. Vin strode imperiously past him, the index finger of his left hand trailing along the man's chest. The guard's face turned pink.
"You must know he will try.” Carine averted her eyes and focused instead on the interior of the room. Row upon row of clothes, some on hangers, others neatly folded on shelves. Stacks of boxes filled one corner, photographs of the contents on each end.
"Shoes, lingerie, daywear, nightwear, kinkywear.” Vin pointed to each in turn. “You name it, we got it. One thing the Mistress—yes, it's a she—doesn't stint on is costumes. Do you think we could talk Ancel into a loincloth? I'm thinking ‘caveman and his cavewoman', that sort of thing. The customers will go wild."
"Caveman...?” The room tipped suddenly. “Oh,” she managed, before Vin had her by the elbow and into a chair. She had a vague recollection of having eaten something at some time, but couldn't remember where, or what, or how long ago it had been. Vin was surprisingly strong, holding her in place with one wrinkled hand while he beckoned to the guard with the other. The guard nodded in response to a whispered command and disappeared into the corridor. Carine leaned over her knees and breathed herself back. Her against Vin. Would now be a good time for an escape? Vin's grip on her neck tightened. She smelled his sickly perfume and willed herself not to vomit all over his shoes.
"Let me tell you something, sweetie. Your old life is over. His old life is over. If you want to stay sane, forget it all. The Mistress paid a fortune for you and she'll want her profit. I don't extract that profit, it's goodbye Vin. Am I making myself clear?” He let go of her and straightened, running a hand through his pink-streaked hair. “When I first came here, all I had was this face and this body. And now look at me. Master of Ceremonies and Most Trusted Servant. Do you know how many slaves achieve that status?"
"You're a slave?” The slow thumping on the back of her skull made it hard to concentrate on his words. Vin thrust a shoulder into her face. Under the skin, she saw a series of small bumps.
"Implant,” he said with something almost amounting to pride. “Mark of a true submissive. You have one too. Means they can track you ‘til you drop."
In panic, Carine clawed at her arm, searching for the tracking device. Vin watched, his mouth curved with amusement.
"You didn't think we had this all covered? What do you take us for, Carine? You'll get used to it.” He leaned close. “We all do. Some of us even get to like it."
"I won't,” she cried, forgetting her resolve to be strong and bide her time. Had her legs been working, she would have challenged him for her freedom there and then.
The guard reappeared at that moment carrying a small pill-box in his massive fist. Vin held out his hand, flat palm up, and waited while the guard removed the lid, tapping his foot to hurry the man along.
"There,” Vin said, in turn offering the box to Carine. Take one of these, and feel better. It will help you do what you have to do."
"What do I have to do?” Carine glanced at the door. The guard stood in the opening, his large body occupying the whole space. She remembered the hazy night before. The sweetness on her tongue, followed by the blissful sleep.
"You've got to remake yourself, ducky. Carine is dead. Just like those old ways your people insist on clinging to. Gone. Poof! Welcome to the new world and the new you. Go on, pop it."
"I don't want to sleep."
"Oh, this one won't make you sleep. Far from it. Buzz'll last three days if it hits you right."
"No! Take me back to him. Ancel!” She screamed his name, long and loud. Tried to dart past Vin on rubbery legs, but he was ahead of her all the way. Anticipating every move, his grin wicked and wide. He held the pill between a finger and thumb, widened his eyes and waggled his tongue. The gold piercing flashed at her. Carine sank to the floor, hand over her mouth. Exhausted.
Vin hunkered down in front of her, extended the fingers holding the pill, shrugged, then popped it into his own mouth. Carine gave him a shove, sending him sprawling and laughing onto his backside, and pushed herself upright. The guard took up a defensive stance in the doorway, teeth bared, preparing to stop her.
"No ... it's ... it's all right.” Vin fell backwards onto the tiled floor, arms spread wide, and lay giggling at the ceiling. “Let her go,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “She's not going far."
Carine body-checked the surprised guard and staggered into the corridor. Left or right? The walk had been short, with only one turn. She caught her breath, still high on the adrenaline rush and ran to the right, shouting for Ancel. His voice boomed back, distant, from behind the double metal doors.
He was hammering, kicking, cursing, on the other side. Frantic to get to her. His panic calmed her. “Ancel,” she said, her tone more measured this time. The symbols pressed against the door. “I'm all right, calm down."
"What's happening? Talk to me."
"They let me come back. I...” What could she tell him? “The door was locked and I panicked. That's all, Ancel. I'm all right."
She closed her eyes, fell to her knees and pressed her palm harder to the door. Through the cold metal, she felt his anguish and his rage and also the longing and the relief. “Shh,” she whispered gathering together her scattered senses. Knowing that her collapse in the wardrobe room wasn't only because of the pill they'd tried to give her. The symbols wouldn't be parted. Couldn't be parted. What had Vin been trying to tell her? That if she took the pills, she wouldn't feel this any more? That she wouldn't care any more?
"Shh,” she said again. “Think of the mountains, Ancel. The clean air, the freedom. You'll have it all again, one day. This isn't forever."
The symbols reached out through the hard metal and became one. Carin
e tried to imagine Ancel, on the other side and wanted him with an intensity that made her ache. Perhaps Vin had been wiser than she knew? For how was it possible to need someone this much, and still survive?
Chapter 4
What was she hiding? Sitting on the low bed, legs demurely crossed, hands in her lap, Carine gazed up at him, then smiled and looked away. “I really am all right,” she said. “I'm sorry I scared you, just now. I got lost coming back and, well..."
He'd never understand women—he was resigned to that. They waxed and waned, blew this way and that and through it all, he humoured them and tried to guard his heart as best he could.
"Readers are masters of deceit. Don't let Vin fool you into thinking he's harmless."
"I won't."
"I'm finding him very hard to block. We must guard our thoughts at all times."
"Absolutely."
"Carine, look at me."
Infuriating, alluring—she was a heady mixture of both. He gave orders, and expected to be obeyed—that was the way his world worked. Or had, up till now. This small creature, now holding his gaze so earnestly, and so disingenuously, had no intention of doing anything he commanded her to. He didn't have to be a mind reader to know that.
A slice of meat pie and two chunks of stale bread were all that remained of the meal they'd been served earlier. Ancel took the tray and set it beside her on the bed, feeling a little guilty at having wolfed most of it down while she was asleep.
"Eat. You'll feel better."
"Everyone wants to make me feel better."
"By the Gods, Carine. What is that supposed to mean? Talk to me, woman. We're headed for disaster if you don't talk to me.” His anger startled her. Her eyes widened a fraction, but still she held his gaze. When she reached out her hand, his joined with it. The Bonding would not be denied.
On his knees between her parted thighs, he pressed a desperate kiss to their entwined fingers. “Give me a reason to kill him. Tell me what he did.” His lips lingered on her perfumed skin and he knew he'd already lost this particular argument. The Bonding needed completion and would continue to scream out its demands until they had no option but to listen. The relief he'd given them earlier had gone no way to appeasing it.
She shifted, opening her legs to draw him in. Her skin quivered as he touched his lips to her thigh, his free hand gliding under the slinky fabric of her dress, pushing it higher. It was neither the time, nor the place for such indulgence, but the sight of her, skirt bunched high on her thighs, the downy patch of hair, the scent of her arousal, it went to his head quicker than the finest wine.
"You can't kill them all, Ancel."
Her eyes held a silent plea. Her hips moved, seeking his mouth. Despite her boldness she moved with an exciting innocence, as if she were searching for something instinctively rather than from experience. He pulled hard on the reins of his lust, hers to command. His large hands slipped upwards to circle her waist and he measured her and wondered at the strength contained in so small a package. Lust fuelled by magic? Would he wake up one day and recoil at the sight of her? Could he really have killed her?
When his lips touched her slick flesh, she whimpered and fell back onto the bed, one arm across her eyes, as if to block out all sensation other than this. He pulled her hard onto his mouth and kissed and tasted her until she climaxed in a warm sweet rush. And then, when she was his to command, he pressed home his advantage and took her there again, ignoring the heavy throbbing in his own loins. The image of her mouth wrapped around his hard cock. He needed her to listen to him and understand that he was right when he said they should run now. Her soft compliance wouldn't last long once she realised what he was doing.
"Carine. Run with me tonight.” He blew gently on her clitoris, making her arch towards him. Touched it with his tongue. “They'll bring food. Or move us somewhere. They didn't pay all that money to keep us locked in this room. I can take Vin, and the guards."
"Too dangerous..."
He quelled her protest easily. His strong fingers held her down, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. Showing her that, physically, at least, he was stronger.
"They'll suck you in,” he said, his cheek on the inside of her thigh. “Bit by bit. Corrupt you until you're like Vin. A grotesque parody of your former self."
"I'm stronger than that."
"You won't be able to resist."
"No, you're wrong. Let go of me."
She twisted, kicking out at him until he crawled up her body and pinned her down with his weight. Even as he did so he felt the balance of power shifting. His persuasive argument evaporating. “I don't understand you,” he said. “You'll fight me, but not them?” He let her go and rolled away. Wiped her off his mouth with the back of his hand. Carine lay panting beside him, her skirt still raised, legs dangling over the edge of the bed.
"You asked me to save you,” he said without looking at her. “Forced me to save you."
"I know, I know.” She raised herself up, propped on one elbow to look down at him, her anxious face framed by her chopped-off hair.
"They've tagged us. Implants, look."
He didn't need to look. “I know. I was awake when they did mine."
"You didn't tell me."
"You didn't need to know."
For a moment she remained silent. The hand bearing her symbols rested lightly on his bare chest. Energy pulsed through his skin. Seeped into his flesh and bones. “If I still had my Crystal,” she said, “I'd try cloaking us in magic so we could walk out, right under their noses."
"You could do that?"
"Theoretically. I wasn't very good at it."
He raised a finger and traced the curve of her bottom lip, one ear to the door. This quiet moment was a gift, he realised. And one which may never come again. “Who's waiting for you at home, Carine? Tell me."
"My mother, sisters. My dog..."
"I have a daughter. Somewhere. When I was fifteen summers I fathered a child. All I know is that her mother died birthing her."
"You've never seen her?"
He laughed. A bitter sound. “I speak of honour, but I did them both wrong and thought nothing of it."
"You were young..."
"And too full of myself. Enough talk.” Her lips were too inviting. The look of compassion in her eyes, too much for him to bear. Hooking his arm around her neck, he pulled her down and pressed his mouth to hers.
* * * *
Early-morning light filtered into the room, illuminating the sparse furniture, the bare walls. The red dress and Ancel's pants lay discarded on the wooden floor, along with the tray of left-over food. Under the covers, her naked body pressed flush against his. His warmth wrapped around her. Rubbing her eyes, she adjusted to the unfamiliar sensations, the memory of the past few days coming back in a rush. Ancel murmured and rolled onto his back, one arm flung above his head, the other resting on her thigh. Carine moved it carefully and slid from the bed. Ran a hand through her hair, still surprised to find it so short.
Vanity was the least of her worries, given their situation. More important now was survival. She tip-toed to the bathing room, leaving Ancel to much-needed sleep and closed the door. Would a shower be enough to wash away the memory of his mouth on her, of his hands claiming every inch of her? She doubted it. He'd marked her twice with that sinful mouth of his, once on the top curve of her breast, and on the side of her throat where everyone would see. But again he'd stopped short of taking her fully, despite her desperate pleas. She closed her eyes and turned from the mirror, embarrassed now at the way she'd begged for completion. He wanted it. But not here. When they were free he would take her to heaven and keep her there until she couldn't walk. All she had to do was run with him.
Snatched pleasures. How long would the Bonding be content with that? Each touch made her crave him more. The first kiss and the feel of his tongue on hers had been a revelation. The sight of him in all his naked glory, hard and battle-scarred, had taken her breath away. The pitch of
his voice, the lust-fuelled words, whispered so close ... With a groan of frustration, she slipped her soapy fingers between her legs, visualising Ancel's thick hard cock in their place. The past few days had been an awakening in so many ways and they hadn't done nearly enough to slake the thirst.
The high-powered jet thundered down, massaging her aching muscles and drowning out her cries. Dazed and exhausted, she slid down the tiled shower wall and waited for her hammering heart to return to normal. Her legs to start working again. The stream of water sluicing over her skin revitalised her. She raised her arms and, with closed eyes, tried to imagine herself back home at the waterfall of the Eternal Spring. From childhood, it had been her special place.
No. She stood and turned the lever, stopping the water abruptly. That was a sacred place, so far removed from this cold hard prison. She refused to bring it here. But she would see it again. The thought cheered her a little as she towelled her hair and slipped into the dress. Being clean again lifted her spirits and reminded her that whatever happened, she must keep the flame of hope alive in her heart and never lose her dignity. She finger-combed the remains of her hair with care and pushed it behind her ears. Cleaned her teeth as best she could without a toothbrush. The place between her legs tingled. Already she craved more.
Tentatively, she re-entered the bedroom and immediately noticed the open door. The bed-sheet lay crumpled on the floor and of Ancel, there was no sign. He'd gone. Left her behind. She stood, rooted to the spot, unable to believe he'd do that. A splash of blood stained one wall. Her gaze followed the red trail trickling down to the prone body of the guard lying behind the bed. Swallowing down the nausea, she noticed the other guard lying, bootless, as if asleep, by the window.