Release In The Dark (DARK erotic romance series)

by Natalie Kristen

  Perhaps he is trying to starve me, drain me, break me so that I won't have the energy to try to escape. Wear me down mentally, emotionally and physically.

  The shouts and sounds outside the tent seem to have subsided. I thought I heard the sounds of rapidly departing footsteps and the fading drone of motorcrafts earlier, but I can't be sure. The buzzing in my ears grow louder and louder as my empty stomach churns and growls.

  But through my hunger and thirst, I manage to feel a quiet thrill. Jaxon has escaped! Jaxon is alive, and free.

  My cracked lips form a smile, even though it hurts to smile.

  Don't forget me, Jaxon. Because I will never forget you.

  I sink down, and close my eyes. Is it evening yet? Or is it night already? Should I care?

  I hear some footsteps. Instantly, I force my eyes open and blink through the bars. The tent is shrouded in darkness, so it has to be full dark outside. The camp outside is deathly quiet. No one seems to be around.

  But I can sense a presence in the tent.

  I am not alone.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see a shadow move. I turn towards the movement but I can't see anything in the darkness. When I turn back, a figure is crouching in front of my cage.

  I let out a small scream. “Who are you? Leave me alone!”

  The man is dressed in the black uniform of a soldier, with his soldier's cap pulled low over his face. A soldier, who has sneaked into his Commander's tent while his Commander is away. I doubt his intentions are noble. Maybe he is here to steal something. Or—rape me. I'd caught many covetous, curious looks being thrown at me, eyes lingering on my tattered, skimpy outfit as Owen dragged me through his camp to his tent.

  The soldiers must have heard the noises coming from their Commander's tent last night and one, or more of them must have decided that after the Commander was done with me, they'd come in and help themselves to the leftovers.

  I stare at the looming figure in front of my cage, and am just about to scream again when he rears back with a massive rock in his hand. I scramble back as he hoists the rock and starts to smash in the padlock. The bars of my cage shudder under the ferocity of his assault.

  His strength is formidable. He attacks the lock with a single-mindedness that seems to be borne of rage. The knuckles on his huge hand are raw and bleeding, but still he doesn't let up.

  I curl myself into a tight ball at the far corner of the cage, afraid of this terrible stranger, whose face I am unable to make out in the shadows. His violent movements make it impossible for me to discern his facial features. All I can see is his arm drawing back and whirring down with that murderous rock, again and again. I catch a glimpse of his white, bared teeth, and hear his rapid, shallow breathing as he attacks my cage relentlessly. This man is intent on breaking the cage and reaching me. Weakened and naked, alone and unarmed, I have to admit that I look too easy. Much too tempting, for any soldier who has been in this secluded camp for weeks and months.

  I cover my ears as he attacks the lock with raw strength and speed. With the deafening, shuddering sound reverberating all around me, I expect other soldiers, or even Owen, to come charging in at any moment, guns blazing to mow down this rogue soldier. But no one comes into the tent. I can't hear anything beyond the sound of his rock smashing against that stubborn lock.

  With a final clang, the lock falls apart. The door of my cage swings open and he reaches in to pull me out.

  “T-thank you,” I stammer, not quite sure if he should be considered friend or foe. But he got me out, right? So, possibly, hopefully friend. For now.

  I take a shaky step forward, weaving my way towards the exit, but it seems that the ground is listing all of a sudden, tilting and rocking as if I am on a ship. I stretch out my hand, and the man grabs it and pulls me to him.

  I pummel him instinctively. Is he going to transform from rescuer to rapist right now? Is he going to rape me, then kill me? Why else would this soldier risk everything to get a helpless, naked girl out of a cage?

  He holds me tighter against him, almost suffocating me against his chest. I try to punch him again, but he simply refuses to let me go. My fear and temper rising, I raise my hand and slap him weakly across the face.

  With my flailing arm, I manage to knock the cap off his head.

  I look up, and stop struggling.

  In fact, I stop breathing altogether.

  I stare up, my entire body limp in his arms, at that mess of tousled brown hair.

  The creased, tanned forehead. Those deep, brown eyes.

  That strong, familiar face that is now thinner, sharper and covered with fresh cuts and bruises.

  I blink.

  I am dreaming. My eyes and heart are playing tricks on me.

  Shivering violently, I reach up to touch his face. This—this must be a disguise. A mask. A fake.

  “Jaxon, love...is this...really you?” I whisper, as a sob erupts violently from my chest.

  “Zoey, Zoey...” Jaxon murmurs my name in a strangled, broken voice as his face drops to my neck. I can feel his tall body shaking against mine as he grips my waist tightly. All the strength and wrath that I had witnessed earlier as he smashed the lock in with a crazed, cataclysmic power seem to have drained from him completely.

  As he holds my battered, bare body in his arms, he starts to shake. His hands feel so cold against my skin, yet so right.

  “How did you...?” I start to ask hoarsely, unable to believe that I am truly in his arms.

  His head jerks up and he puts a finger to my lips. Pushing me behind him, he turns to face the entrance of the tent, a gun already in his hand. The flap flutters noisily as a cold wind blows in, but that is all.

  Cocking his head, he listens intently, his gun at the ready. All we hear is the wind and the distant sound of birds. No footsteps. No human voices.

  I try to take a step towards him, but my leg chooses at this point to give out completely. Jaxon lunges forward to catch me before I hit the ground.

  Against my feeble protest, he swings me over his shoulder and clamps a powerful arm over the hollow of my knees to hold me steady. “We've got to go,” he tells me quietly. “I've got you, Zoey.”

  I croak a reply, and glance at the broken cage in the corner. Jaxon exits that tent silently, and that cage and the handcuff lying on the floor recedes from my shaking, spinning vision.

  My eyelids droop against my will and I feel myself bouncing against Jaxon's hard body, vaguely aware that he has begun to run. The jostling movement aggravates the pounding in my head, and I see flashes of red on the back of my eyelids, just before the black takes over, and I sink into a dead faint.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I shiver awake, and immediately scramble up. I stare around wildly to see the cave that I am lying in. Patting my hands down my body, I find I am dressed in an ill-fitting black uniform. My hands roam all over my body, up my neck to my face. I have to convince myself that I am solid, real, alive, and that this is not a dream.

  I am alive.

  I am safe, in a cave.

  Not a cage.

  Jaxon got me out. He saved me. I saw him. Right? Right? Where is he?

  “Jaxon,” I call out, hating the pain and panic in my voice. “Jaxon!”

  There is a rustling sound at the mouth of the cave, and I scrabble backwards, pushing myself deeper into the shadows. The sound is coming nearer. Is it a wild animal? Soldiers out searching for me?

  The low hanging leaves and vines obscuring the entrance to the cave part and a figure ducks quickly into the cave. I blink at his silhouette, tears springing to my eyes.

  “Jaxon, is that you?”

  He puts down the bundle in his arms, and slowly comes closer. The light behind him illuminates his matted brown hair and the side of his face. I finally see his sunken, brown eyes, and his fierce, handsome face. Stubbled, dirty, injured, but still so strong and handsome in my eyes.

  “Jaxon!”

  I fly into his arms, and he hugs me hard, le
aning his whiskered cheek against my head. “Zoey...” he breathes my name over and over again.

  I run my hands all over his face, his shoulders, his chest, his hands, unable to believe that he is really in my arms again. “You...you were captured,” I whisper, hot tears spilling freely down my face. “I saw...I saw you, shackled, in a cell...”

  He nods.

  “How...?” I swallow, searching his gaunt face. “Irin said you never made it to the rendezvous point. She said no one...”

  His face hardens instantly and he releases me. “We were betrayed. My location was leaked. There's a mole in the resistance.”

  I inhale sharply. “How did you escape?”

  “Moles. There are moles everywhere,” he answers wryly. “A few of the prison guards had been soldiers in my platoon when I was Commander. These were young men conscripted from the towns that the Imperial Army invaded and raided. Forced to serve as soldiers, their loyalties were never with the Emperor. They were the ones who helped me escape.”

  “How did you find me?”

  A strange light enters his eyes. “You sent an encrypted message to the resistance, a recorded conversation. It was clear who had taken you.”

  He is standing just a few feet away from me yet a chasm seems to have opened up between us. His eyes are burning, yet his voice is suddenly cold and strained.

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I persist, “How did you get into Owen's camp?”

  At the mention of Owen's name, his dark eyes flash and his fists clench at his side. “There are moles everywhere,” he says tersely at last.

  “Oh.” I nod in comprehension. “Some soldiers in Owen's camp helped you. Helped...me.”

  “I've been a soldier since I was nine,” he answers with a bitter laugh. “Being in the Imperial Army for nineteen years has its advantages.”

  When I look up, Jaxon is staring at me with a mixture of anguish and fury. I try to take his hand, but he turns away abruptly.

  “You should eat,” he says brusquely.

  “Jaxon...”

  “There's drinking water,” he says curtly, handing me a canteen as he rummages through a backpack with the Imperial Army logo on it. He has either stolen it from the camp, or one of his “moles” sneaked it out to him. I don't bother to ask. I simply take the canteen from him, and bring it to my lips.

  I gulp down the water, keeping my eyes on Jaxon's back. His movements are stiff and angry, and he seems to be avoiding my eyes on purpose. Other than that initial, fierce impulsive hug, he hasn't kissed me or held my hands or caressed my face—in other words, he hasn't really touched me.

  It hurt.

  I want him to fold me into his arms and comfort me, kiss me and love me. Why isn't he doing that? Why is he turning his back to me and trying to ignore me?

  Even when he hands me an energy bar, he doesn't speak to me. I slide down against the cave wall and unwrap the energy bar with shaking hands. I eat mechanically, biting, chewing, swallowing without tasting a single mouthful. Jaxon has packed and repacked the bag, checking and rechecking the supplies until there is nothing else he can pretend to be busy with. Finally, he sits down opposite me and watches me eat, his eyes dark and hollow.

  I swallow the last mouthful and ball up the wrapper. Narrowing my eyes at him, I demand, “What?”

  When he doesn't reply, I toss the wrapper at him. “What is it, Jaxon? Why are you treating me like this?”

  There is a brief flicker of pain in his eyes before he closes them. “Why? Why did you go to the Red Lantern?” he whispers.

  I start. “I went to the Red Lantern...because of you!”

  “Did you know what they do at the Red Lantern? You knew what would happen to you...”

  I read the accusation in his voice, and my temper flares. “I went to the Red Lantern, and I did everything that I had to do in that hell, for you! For you, Jaxon! You left for a mission, and you went missing. No one knew what happened to you. No one could tell me if you were alive or dead. How do you think that feels? I had to find out. I had to find you! I went there for you! Do you know what happened to me? I almost drowned, I was stripped and tied to a torture device, I watched my friend being strangled to death...” I tick off the items furiously on my finger, my voice rising and cracking. “I...I killed a man, got rid of his body, was interrogated, and taken by Owen to his camp...” I try to speak again, to yell at him, but I don't have the strength to carry on. Oh, and I was raped, abused, cuffed and caged for good measure.

  I snort out an angry laugh, but it comes out as a sob.

  I raise my hands to swipe away my tears. I'm not going to cry.

  Both my wrists are caught in Jaxon's fists as he grabs me suddenly and crushes me to him. I gasp and scream, struggling violently in his arms. My fists pound hard at his chest, as I yell at him to let me go.

  “Let me go, Jaxon! Damn you! Damn! You! You're a jerk! A jerk, Jaxon Ryleth!”

  Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, I wrench and twist, the fight leaving me as I sob hard into his chest. He presses his lips firmly against my forehead and holds me as I cry. I have stopped punching him, but I am hurting all over, my knuckles, my arms, my heart.

  Rocking gently, he whispers, “I am sorry, Zoey. I love you. I love you so much. I almost died...” he chokes. “I just can't bear the thought...of you...” His ragged breaths are hot against my cheek and neck.

  I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. “I thought I'd never see you again.” My words are muffled against his neck. “I needed to know. I needed...to see you. I was afraid, so afraid that...”

  Jaxon kisses my wet eyelids and the side of my head. With his lips against my temple, he breathes painfully, “I told you that I would stay alive...for you. I would find my way back to you, no matter what. You should not have gone to the Red Lantern, Zoey.” He grip tightens around my body. “You should never have gone!” His nails are now digging into my flesh, as he fights his own tormenting pain and anger.

  I gasp, and he loosens his grip instantly. But his arms remain around me.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asks softly.

  I look down. You did, just now, when you wouldn't even look at me.

  With a finger under my chin, he tilts my face up. “Zoey,” he says, gazing into my eyes. “I know...what you've had to go through, what you have done...for me. It...it kills me, every moment. You should never, never!” He pauses, fighting for control over his voice and tattered emotions. “Never have entered the Red Lantern!”

  “You blame me,” I say sullenly.

  “No. I blame Irin. I blame the resistance for sacrificing you.”

  I chew my lip, mulling over his words which are filled with angst and hate. I pick through his words, but—he is right. They did sacrifice me. Irin delivered me to the Red Lantern, knowing full well what would happen to me. And no one saved me from Owen. Jaxon had to claw his way out of his prison cell to come for me. He knew.

  “You knew the resistance wouldn't get me out,” I say slowly, reeling. “You knew they would leave me with Owen.”

  At the mention of Owen's name, Jaxon's throat moves before he finally grits out, “I will kill him!”

  I shake my head. “Don't risk your life, Jaxon. He is not worth it.” And he is already dead, damaged on the outside, dead on the inside.

  “What he did to you...”

  “...is nothing. I have already forgotten it. He is gone from me. He is nothing, just a corpse masquerading as a Commander,” I say without emotion.

  I look up to see Jaxon's jaw still tightly clenched. Pushing myself up on my toes, I kiss him softly on the mouth. He starts, and jerks back in shock.

  His reaction is completely understandable and—natural. But it wounds me deeply.

  He recoiled from me. From my touch, my kiss.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look at him. I can't bear to see that anguished, angry look on his face. To have him so near, and so far from me. I open my eyes, grateful that they have remained dry.

 
; My voice, when I speak, sounds foreign, harsh and grating. “I have already forgotten...but you haven't. You won't. You can't, Jaxon. Can you?”

  “Zoey, that's not...”

  I shake my head. “You can't kiss me back, can you? You won't be able to bring yourself to touch me ever again, right? You are disgusted by me...”

  “No, Zoey, I...”

  “...you see me as defiled, damaged, dirty...”

  “No!”

  “You despise me now, don't you? You think I'm just a whore...” My eyes blaze as I stalk towards him.

  “You are not...”

  “You won't want me anymore. You can't make love to me without thinking what other men have done to me...”

  “Zoey!”

  “When you touch me, you'll feel like you're just fucking a slut...”

  “Stop it! Just stop it!” he shouts.

  “I want you to say it,” I pant, kicking my chin up as I stand toe to toe with him. “Say it to my face. Get it off your chest, Jaxon. Let it all out. Say it!”

  His shoulders are heaving with his labored breathing. His eyes are burning into mine, flashing with all his pent up passion and pain. I hear his knuckles crack loudly as his fists clench at his side. A muscle is throbbing violently in his jaw as his internal struggle rises to fever pitch.

  Without warning, he grabs my shoulders and crushes his mouth to mine. I gasp at his violent, desperate kisses. Clawing at his shoulders, I bite his lip and kiss him back with equal fervor and vengeance. The sounds of our heavy breathing and moans echo round the cave as he keeps walking me backwards until my back thuds against the far wall of the cave. Grabbing my leg to pull it up against his side, he grinds his erection hard against my belly.

  “Do you feel this, Zoey?” he growls, as he licks and bites my ear and neck. “Do you think I'll get hard, for a slut? Hmm? Do you!” He slams his cock against my crotch, pushing against the fabric of my baggy pants.

  With a ripping sound, the two halves of my oversized black shirt fly open, exposing my bare breasts. Jaxon dips his head and his mouth devours my breast without mercy, sucking hard on my nipple and biting and rolling it between his teeth until I cry out. “You say I don't want you?” he grates. “I don't want this?” he pants, flicking his tongue hard over my erect, aching nipple while his hand fondles my other breast.