He blinked, feelingstrange. Almostrelaxed.
With disbelief he realized what was wrong. Or what was right. The rage, the ever-present rage he struggled to contain day and night, the rage burned into his soul by Ancreta nearly three hundred years ago, had inexplicably left him.
How? Was this simply more magic?
Did he care?
Chained atop this cold stone, deep in the bowels of a second Mage captivity, he felt more at peace than he had in years. Eased. Whole in a way he hadnt felt in centuries.
Had she somehow, miraculously healed him? Or was her nearness affecting him in a way hed never imagined anyone could?
The implications rocked him. He almost hoped it was just enchantment. Just a lie. Because if it wasnt, if this easing of the torment hed lived with for centuries was somehow coming from her
A witch.
Heaven help him. The last thing he wanted was to need her. More than he did already.
Paenther woke to the sound of footsteps moments before the steel door crashed in against the rock. The witch startled awake, rearing up, filling him with the scent of sleep-warmed violets and the acrid tang of fear.
In the doorway stood a man with the slim build of a Mage and hair a dozen shades paler than his skin. His face was long, his lips thin, and his copper-ringed eyes blazed with a cold fury.
Paenthers muscles tensed for a battle he wouldnt be able to fight, fury of his own raging through his body as he strained against his shackles until they bit into his flesh. The strange peace hed felt when he woke during the night had vanished with the womans fear.
Birik, the witch breathed, her eyes wide, her voice tight with dread.
I warned you, the Mage said coldly, and started toward them.
But
The Mage latched onto her upper arm and yanked her off the rock. As the witch stumbled, he pulled her to the wall, grabbed her shoulders, and slammed her back until her skull collided with stone with a sharp crack.
Paenthers body went taut with outrage, but the bastard wasnt through. He grabbed her face, holding on until the witchs eyes widened with pain and the smells of burning flesh and blood assailed his sensitive nose.
Finally, the Mage released her. As the fragile woman sunk to the ground, he leveled several hard kicks to her ribs and one to the side of her head, then strode out of the room without a backward glance.
Paenther stared at the woman lying on the damp, rocky floor like a broken doll, blood running down her cheek from where the bastard must have cracked her skull. For long moments, the only sound in the room was the drip, drip, drip from the rock daggers and the faint, thready beat of her heart.
Witch? he called softly. But she gave no indication she heard him.
Minute by minute, her heartbeat strengthened as her immortal body healed the ravages of the assault until, finally, she stirred. Slowly, painfully, she curled into a ball as if to protect herself from further attack. But like the attack itself, she took the pain without a groan, without a cry. Her suffering was somehow all the more difficult to bear for its terrible silence.
His gut contracted as he remembered tearing at her arm. And how shed suffered that time, too, without a sound.
He wasnt sure what to make of her. Shed hidden what she was, enthralled him, and captured him. She was everything he hated. Yet now he was forced to wonder if shed had any choice in the matter.
Had he misjudged her? Was there really such a thing as a gentle witch? One thing was certain, this one was nothing like Ancreta.
His muscles bunched as she pushed herself onto her elbows, as if he could somehow lend her strength. She struggled to sit up, then collapsed back against the wall with a grimace that told him what the move had cost her. He looked at her smudged and bloodied face and wanted to beat the hell out of the man whod done this to her. Birik.
Why did he beat you, little witch? He didnt know her name.
She opened her eyes slowly, the blue depths dark with pain. I dont know. Her expression tightened. I do know. I just dont know why hed punish me for it now. She met his gaze. He wants me to mount you.
Paenther jerked, his hands fisting. No, he snarled.
Like hell shed mount him. His body quaked with the remembered fury and bitter helplessness of all those times beneath Ancreta.
The dark-haired witch, so unlike Ancreta, sighed and tipped her head back, her gaze reaching the ceiling. Perhaps beyond. I wanted to give you time to accept me, warrior. Hes not going to allow it. Her voice broke as she met his gaze, suffering in her eyes. Im sorry.
She pushed herself to her feet, then stumbled back against the wall with a grimace before lurching forward, slowly, painfully. Blood matted her hair and streaked her face.
Dont. No way in hell was he accepting this. His fingertips began to tingle with the imminent eruption of his claws.
But when she reached him, all she did was curl her arm around his waist and lay her head on his chest, her face turned away.
He stared down at the top of her head, confounded. She never did what he expected. He felt her body trembling and felt the drip of hot tears onto his abdomen. If his hands had been free, hed have been hard-pressed not to stroke her back. She was about to take him against his will, yet his overwhelming need was to offer her some small measure of comfort.
Sniffling, she stood and wiped her eyes, then moved down to the end of the stone and climbed up between his legs without meeting his gaze. Her misery was so sharp, it cut him.
She wasnt Ancreta. The fury at what she was planning to do to himwhat shed been ordered to do to himbegan to lose its grip on his mind and slip away.
His body was flaccid. Hed found her pain anything but arousing. If she was going to use him, she was going to have to get him up first. But as she began to dip that ripe mouth toward his shaft, his body froze.
Dont.
She looked up, defeat in every line of her body. I have to.
Use your hand.
Her brows pulled together as she watched him as if she wasnt certain shed heard him right. Then she reached for him, closing her cool fingers softly around him. His breath hissed into his mouth at the incredible feel of her touch.
Slowly, she began to stroke him. With her free hand, she cupped his stones, squeezing gently and rolling them, rubbing them against one another. Blood surged between his legs. Within moments, he was erect and ready for her.
She wasted no time in lifting her dress to her waist and straddling him.
His mind balked, still fully mired in all those other times with Ancreta. But his body burned to feel this womans body swallow his length as it had once before.
Taking firm but careful hold of him, she positioned him at her entrance and slowly tried to force him inside. But her body was tight and dry, and her jaw clenched against the obvious discomfort.
Youre not ready.
It doesnt matter. Her voice was strained as she pushed him farther in.
His body longed to help her, to thrust up and inside, but hed only hurt her more. It matters. If you remember the way it was between us in the woods, you cant truly believe it doesnt make a difference if youre ready.
You wanted me then.
Paenther groaned. Youre holding the evidence of my desire in your hand, witch. He met her gaze. I hate what he did to you. I dont want to watch it happen again. Besides, I assure you, I want to be inside you.
Her eyes slowly began to darken. Your words are helping.
Good. He could tell. She was softening slightly, but his way was still far from clear. Goddess, but his body wanted to move. Whats your name, little witch?
Skye.
Skye with the sky blue eyes. Touch yourself, Skye.
She looked at him uncertainly.
Between your legs. His eyes narrowed. Have you never pleasured yourself?
She shook her head with a jerk.
Touch yourself between your legs as you ride me, right at the front of your slit. Find the place it feels best, then stroke the flesh there. It should ready you.
Her gaze was enigmatic, as it was so often, but she did as he said, reaching down, her fingernail softly scraping his shaft as she found the place she sought. She gasped, and he knew shed found it. Within seconds, her body opened like a slick, damp flower, easing his way.
What kind of a fool was he for helping his captor take him against his will? Yet, it was hardly against his will, was it? Goddess, she felt sweet.
Paenther threw his head back, lifting his hips to press more deeply inside her, then opened them to watch her hips rising and falling as if she were indeed riding him. Like in the woods, he felt an utter sense of rightness when he was buried inside her.
Skye watched him, her eyes growing heavy-lidded with rising passion, her full lips parting on soft, tiny gasps.
Power rose in the room, running not unpleasantly over his flesh. As the power thickened, her rhythm increased, her movements growing more rapid. She pumped him hard and fast, in and out until he was nearly out of his mind with lust and need and debilitating pleasure.
With a guttural cry, she threw her head back, coming, her inner muscles squeezing him in hard spasms until he was following her over, his body pumping his release deep inside her.
Skye looked up, and he followed her gaze to the dark orbs shooting with sparks of color as if they could barely contain the power inside. Her gaze lowered to his, her mouth softening.
We did it, she said.
We did. And what exactly had they done? To what dark purpose would the Mage put that power? Had he, in helping a sad-eyed witch, compromised his own mission? His own men?
Locked inside this cavern, he wasnt sure hed ever know.
She rode him for a minute more, slowly, milking her pleasure, then finally pulled off him to sit at his side, pulling her dress down as she pressed back against the wall. With an unsteady hand, her chest still heaving, she ran her fingers through her hair, slowly meeting his gaze.
Thank you. A soft, fleeting smile warmed her eyes, sending warmth cascading through his chest.
He felt the oddest, most inappropriate urge to smile in return. Goddess, but she affected him.
Her foot pressed against his hip, a light touch, but contact all the same, as if she needed to touch him.
He felt the same disquieting need.
Free me, Skye. Lets both leave this place before that bastard hurts you again.
I cant. Hell never let me go.
Ill protect you.
Her mouth lifted ruefully at one corner. Youve promised several times to kill me, warrior. I know a ploy for escape when I hear it. She shrugged and tilted her head against the wall behind her. Even if I could trust you, no one can protect me.
Why are you so important to him?
I have a way with animals.
He didnt understand at first. But then he remembered a story hed once heard of rare Mage with deep ties to various aspects of nature.
Youre a Mage enchantress.
Yes. She met his gaze again. Which is why youre drawn to me. Its why we raise the power we do. Because of the animal inside you.
Is that the only reason? Did she really have no sense of her own allure? Hadnt she noticed he got hard every time she walked into the room? He was damned sure it had nothing to do with his animal. He and his animal didnt communicate. They never had.
She leaned forward and stroked his chest. I dont know if its the only reason Im drawn to you, but its the only reason that matters. I draw my power through the animals.
With that, she crawled off the stone, unbuttoning the front of her bloodstained dress as she walked past his head to the far end of the room. He tilted his head back and watched as she tossed the dress aside, revealing a too-slender form of such delicacy it made him ache.
Reaching up, she turned on a crude water spigot and stood under the harsh rush of water. She picked up a bar of soap from the floor and washed the blood from her face, hair, and body, then turned off the water.
The water doesnt flood the room? he asked.
She grabbed a threadbare towel from a small pile on a rock in the corner and dried herself with it. The floors not even, and there are small gullies in the rock that run beneath the walls.
How long have the Mage lived in this place?
Since the last war with the Ferals.
The war that came to a head with the Mages capture of three newly marked Ferals1738. After Lyon captured nearly a dozen Mage sorcerers and sentinels, and killed their high leader, the Elemental, hed demanded peace. And gotten it. For 270-plus years, the two races had lived in strained harmony, basically ignoring one another. A cold war that was cold no longer.
He watched her drop the towel and pull a navy blue dress off one of the hangers. How long have you been here? he asked her.
I dont know. She shrugged the dress over her head. Time has no meaning in this place.
Were you born here?
No. I was eight when Birik claimed me from my mother, taking me as his apprentice. Hes an enchanter, too, though his gift isnt nearly as strong as mine. He mostly just calls snakes. A small scowl marred her features, hinting at a temper hed yet to see. He taught me, forced me, to draw my power for his own use. I havent been off this mountain since.
What was happening in the human world at the time you came here, do you remember? Did you know?
They were sending men into orbit around the Earth. They were trying to reach the moon.
The 1960s. Youve been down here about forty years. Youre still very young.
She quirked a brow, a glimmer of a challenge in her eyes that pleased him. And youre older?
He smiled, surprising himself. Almost four hundred.
An answering smile broke over her face, bright and amused, but gone almost as quickly as it appeared. Yet in that fleeting instant, in the brief radiance of her smile, he felt as if hed been sucker punched.
Skye pushed her sleeves to her forearms and came over to him, her natural grace back in full.
But when she stopped beside him, her gaze wouldnt quite meet his. With her hair wet, her features so achingly delicate, she looked as fragile as a sapling in a storm. A need to protect her rose fiercely within him.