The Raven

by Terri Pray

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  The Raven [Celeste's Captivity V]

  by Terri Pray

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  Erotica/Romance

  Copyright ©

  ISBN

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  NOTICE: This ebook is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Duplication of this ebook by beaming, email, network, disk, paper, or any other method is a violation of international copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment.

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  CELESTE'S CAPTIVITY V

  THE RAVEN

  By

  TERRI PRAY

  ISBN 978-1-60089-164-9

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2006 Terri Pray

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

  For information contact:

  SizzlerEditions.com

  Sizzler Editions/B&D

  A Renaissance E Books publication

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I tried to warn you, my slave. But you wouldn't listen to me.” His ice blue gaze locked with hers, leaving her no room to escape. “He won't take care of you. To him you truly are a piece of meat to be used and abused as he sees fit. Be careful my slut. I will come for you. It won't take me that long to find out where he has you. I won't let him keep you.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, to claim that she'd known the risks, but it would have been a lie, and even within a dream she couldn't commit that lie. Her heart skipped a beat as he cupped her cheek, running his fingers over the line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, a soft tremble running through her body. How could she enjoy such a man when there was nothing here with him but for the danger and pleasure of pain and subjugation he offered her?

  Because it felt right. Being with him answered so many questions for her that she'd been afraid to ask, she felt whole. She belonged to him. And it had taken being stolen by the Raven for her to understand that, to accept that.

  She'd dreamed of The Raven swooping down into her life, returning her home, saving her from the cruelty of life with Davien, but the man had turned out to be worse than Blood himself.

  At least Blood had taken care of her, tended the hurts after he had used her. He'd made sure he was able to use his property again, and again. Her body ached for him. Her nipples crinkled into tight pips. Even though she knew this was a dream she couldn't shut down how she reacted to him. His voice, his eyes, the way she knew he could touch her and make her heart sing— it was wrong, depraved and she needed it in a way she could not explain or accept.

  “You need me, little slut.”

  She wanted to protest. To tell him she wasn't a slut, that she'd never be one, but she'd done exactly that for him, parting her thighs under his orders for whomever he wished her to serve. He would have known it was a lie. She knew it was. So what else was she, but a slut?

  A well-trained slave?

  One suited for such depraved uses as only men like him could inflict on her helpless and hungry body.

  “I'll come for you, he won't know what you need and will not take care of you the way you need to be. Your needs will go unsated. Your soul will cry for more. Your heart empty until you are in my arms again, or better yet, at my feet.”

  His.

  “There has to be another option, Master. I want to go home. I belong back on the farm. I can find a life there if I'm given a chance to do so.”

  “Silly slut. You've never belonged there. You were never wanted there. Your sister, even now, roams London at your father's expense and what were you given? No, he'd have packed you off to the first man who offered a decent bride price for you. He'd have packed you off with the first man to make an offer for you, just as long as you were allowed to keep cooking for him each week. You were an unpaid servant to him, and less than that to your sister.”

  Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach.

  He hadn't even met her father and he'd been right. Just one good offer and she'd have been packed off into marriage, regardless of if she'd agreed or not. “I might have found a way to escape that. I have skills, I could have made it to the city and found a place as a servant in a good house.”

  “You did find a way to escape that life as a bride to a brute of a farmer, who would have grunted twice, taken what he wanted, then rolled away from you until he wanted to use you again. When I took you away from Ireland you left that life behind. You were meant for so much more, Celeste. More than you've ever been willing to accept. But now you have to be strong, to face your fears, and find your place at my feet again.”

  But she wasn't at his feet. She wasn't even in his house and this was just a dream.

  * * * *

  Celeste shivered, pulling the thin blanket closer. The chain on her ankle rattled slightly but that and the fire crackling in the hearth, and his snores were the only sounds in the room. He slept so deeply that even the movement of the chain across the floor hadn't woken him. He truly didn't think she could, or even would, try to escape, or he would have paid more attention to what she was doing.

  No, this man wasn't the type of Master she had become used to. Instead she knew him to be a cruel, hateful being. One that believed his own lies.

  She stared into the fire, Davien's words playing through her mind. It might have been just a dream but it had affected her far more deeply than she'd been willing to admit. He knew her and he'd helped make her, so it stood to reason that she'd need to be with him now. Or completely free of the situation which wasn't possible right now. And unless she found a way to escape Tearlach, she was trapped with him until such time that Davien found them. If he ever could locate them again. London was a huge place, how could he track them down here? It wasn't as though she had left a message stating where she had been going.

  Had someone seen what had happened when she'd left the party? She hadn't noticed anyone watching her, or following her, but then again she hadn't noticed Tearlach's presence until it had been too late. So it was possible someone else had witnessed her capture.

  If so there was a chance that word would be carried to Davien. That's if he wanted her back after she'd escape him in the middle of a party. How would he have dealt with that? The shame he would have faced when it was discovered that his well-trained slave had escaped in the middle of the evening's events.

  He'd be furious with her. She could almost imagine the look of cold anger in his eyes when he finally caught up with her again. It wasn't going to be pleasant. Yes, he'd be happy that she was back in his hands, but his anger at what she had done would not be ignored.

  And that would mean punishment. When and if he caught up with her, with them. Or perhaps he'd be more concerned with dealing with Tearlach? She could only hope it would. He'd be furious, and he'd try to find a way to bring the man down, hard and fast. Perhaps that would distract him enough that he'd not think to punish her at all?

  She wasn't going to hold out much in the way of hope. He wasn't the sort of man to ignore a slave escaping his clutches.

  She peered up at the bed, her body still sore from his near brutal use of her. He hadn't even allowed her the chance to bath and soak away some of the bruises. If this was an example of how he treated slaves then she was in for a very rough time indeed. Would it have killed him to let her be tended?

  She'd at least have been in a better condition, and then she'd be able to serve him when he wanted her to again. Right now she'd barely be able to crawl if he demanded her to, though she'd obviously have no choice but to try her best.

  His snores rolled through the room, grinding on her nerves as she shifted to sit up, wincing, wrapping the blanket about her shoulders as she edged a little closer to the fire. She needed the warmth it offered. Odd, she'd dreamed of being hi
s for some time, hoped she would know his touch, his kiss, but when it had come down to it she'd been tossed to one side instead of taken into his bed and held through the night. How could her dreams have turned out to be so wrong?

  Foolish.

  That's what Davien would have called her. A little fool for believing in love. It didn't exist. There were only those who used others for their own benefit, and those who ended up being used.

  Love was for the weak. The foolish. It was for those who didn't know any better. She swallowed hard, shaking her head. Yes, it was foolish, but she was in love and it wasn't with the man who had captured her from the streets of London. Davien Blood held her heart and he didn't even know it. If he ever realized it then he'd mock her until the end of her days for her foolishness. The love of a slave, what use was that to a man like him?

  Nothing at all, except perhaps, a way to control her. He'd laugh, mock her, and use it to his advantage. She'd never be anything more than a pretty piece of property to crawl to his feet and that hurt. Her heart twisted in two, her body ached for his touch, and a sense of loneliness now settled about her shoulders. Odd how she'd become attached to Davien.

  He wasn't the sort of man to engender feelings of love. Yet it didn't stop those emotions from threatening to overwhelm her completely. She did love him. She did need him and she doubted she could ever truly tell him that, even if he did find them and deal with this thief in the night, this Raven.

  How could she have ever thought this man, this hateful creature, would save her when he cared for nothing save his own desires? What happened to her, in the meantime, was just a byproduct of his appetites and one that he could and would toss to one side when he was done with her.

  If the way he had brutally used her last night was anything to go by, then he'd never take a moment to see her body was tended to, or that she was given a real opportunity to recover before he took his next set of pleasure from her body.

  But— but if she made herself useful to him then perhaps she could keep herself safe until such a time when Davien could find her. How could she do that? There had to be a way. She'd find it and hold onto it. She swallowed hard, her stomach knotting as she sat there, watching the flames. There would be a way, one that would feed his ego, give rise to his darkest fantasy, his dreams made real if she but had the courage to go through with it, to endure until such a time that her true Master could reclaim her.

  Shards of sunlight filtered through the window, the first rays of the day piercing the room. He'd sleep late, men like him always did, but now she knew what she had to do. She knew the risks, the dangers and she'd survive it. If nothing else her time with Davien had shown her she laid claim to a level of courage she'd never known existed before.

  At least, not within her.

  “Pstt.” The sound came from the doorway. Male. Not something she'd been expecting to hear right now. A slight frown creased her brow as she turned toward the sound, peering at the source of it. The door opened a little more, a shadow, slight and near silent, crept into the room. His finger pressing to his lips, making certain she would keep quiet.

  She tensed, wondering if one of Tearlach's enemies had found their way to the house. It wouldn't have been Davien, not yet. He'd not have sent someone creeping into the room. If he had found out where she was, then he'd have led the attack to reclaim her and called Tearlach out without even hesitating. Then she realized something and her slender hopes at being freed from this place, died in a heartbeat.

  She recognized the man who now pushed open the door. He'd been there when she's been brought into the house. A man servant? Or just someone employed in the house, perhaps as a butler? Or— or whatever Tearlach wanted to call the position. She clutched at the blanket holding it in place as he moved through the room and unlocked the chain from about her ankle.

  His voice low was kept he spoke. “The Master will wish to sleep some time as yet, and you will need to be bathed and tended to. Come with me. Remember to move quietly, wouldn't do to disturb him.”

  She glanced over at the sleeping form. No. Disturbing Tearlach wasn't the best of ideas. Celeste pushed slowly to her feet letting the blanket fall to the floor, her muscles aching, sore with what she had been doing, but she hoped with the bath that some of her pain would ease. She didn't speak until they were out of his room, the door closed behind them.

  “You've been well trained, woman.” The man nodded as he looked over her, his lips twitching into a full smile. “Most women would have tried to keep the blanket with them, and tried to hide themselves from my view.”

  “I wasn't granted permission to keep it on, Sir.” She spoke softly, her gaze lowered. The words were almost second nature to her now, at least she could be thankful to Davien for that small mercy. “And unless I am mistaken I am a slave once more, so it would be foolish of me to try and take the liberties that belong only to a woman who is free.”

  The man stopped in his tracks and turned, looking her fully in the eyes. “Hm, and you're not a dull little thing either. There's a spark behind those eyes. I have to wonder just what he's let himself into with you. Sure, you play the part well enough, but there's more to you than meets the eye.”

  She kept her hands at her side, refusing to give into her instincts to cover her body. “I have been trained to obey, not to shut down my mind, Sir. Master Davien insisted I use my mind.”

  He nodded and turned to lead her through the house. He walked almost silently, she'd seen this type of walk before in a man. In a trained thief. It made sense. Tearlach was a highwayman, why wouldn't he have friends who were thieves and rogues just as he was?

  So where had he met this man?

  And why was he working for him now, when he should have the skills to earn a good living away from Tearlach, so what made him stay?

  He stopped at the top of a flight of narrow stairs. The servant's staircase just as she'd used in Davien's house at one point. She followed him down the wooden steps, her head slightly bowed, hair free and slightly tangled about her shoulders. She didn't want to follow him around, nude and exposed like this, but what other choice did she have right now?

  None whatsoever if she wanted to play the part out. And she had a feeling this man would be watching her every step of the way. He'd not hesitate to let Tearlach know if she stepped out of place. Then the trouble would be almost more than she could handle. Not a good thought.

  “There is a bath set up, and it should be filled by now.” He commented pushing the door open at the bottom of the stairs. A narrow corridor led away from it and she could see the kitchen in the distance, but it was to a smaller room, off this corridor, that he led her, the heavy door open and pushed wide so she could enter the room without a problem.

  Candles flickered in the alcoves of the wall, the scent light and reminded her of flowers, another surprise in Tearlachs household. Why would he have flower scented candles? Something another woman had brought in? Or perhaps a servant had picked them up at some point in time? He wasn't the sort of man she could ask such questions of. She took another step into the room and looked around, getting a better feel of the place.

  A large wooden tub sat in the middle of the room, small tendrils of steam curling upward toward the ceiling. Soap, towel, and brush had been set on a small stool at the side of the tub. She'd be able to feel almost human by the time this was over. But it wasn't those small things that brought a smile to her lips. Instead the sight of a thin, short chemise, hanging from a hook on the wall, warmed her heart. Perhaps there was a chance she would be able to wear some clothing when this was done?

  “Get yourself in the tub and clean off. He'll be expecting you ready to serve him when he rises around the noon hour. It gives you plenty of time to wash, get yourself seen to and maybe even fed, before he'll be expecting you.”

  She didn't hesitate, the tub was too tempting to ignore and she clambered into it, hissing at the heat. It wrapped itself about her body, welcoming her even as her ass tightened. Small fingers
of water almost seemed to massage their way into her body, easing some of the pain she had been put through the night before. Her muscles began to relax, the memory of the evening in Tearlach's care soon began to drift into the back of her mind, where such images belonged.

  Her jaw clenched for a moment as she scrubbed through her hair, then she forced the subtle signs of discontent back under control. Hoping he would have put the clench down to washing her hair, which was tangled. She glanced over, watching him through lowered lashes, but his face remained bland, almost neutral. If he'd seen something he disagreed with, he wasn't about to mention it right now.

  “Do you have a name, Sir?” she kept her voice soft, her gaze lowered as she spoke to him.

  “Jason.” He settled down on a wooden bench, his back to the wall, the choice of seat giving him a good view of both the woman in the tub, and the doorway. “And don't you go thinking that you can try and persuade me to get you out of here. I'm not going to be falling for any of your tricks. Understand me, wench? I've seen others come through here and you're all the same. Sooner or later you think you can use your body, or promise of some payment, to get out of here. Well I know just what he'd do if I even thought about it, and I'm not risking my neck for a slut.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She'd already realized he would be watching for signs of her trying to use him in order to escape. Well she'd be the soft, compliant and obedient slave, at least until it was time to do something else. She'd escape when the time was right and Davien would find a way to track her down. So, Tearlach had put the fear of god into him? She could understand that. He wasn't what she'd call a stable personality, and he might have let that anger loose a time or two.