Birik had tried.
With a deep breath, she forced herself to meet that dark, angry gaze.
The moment she did, he growled at her. Free me.
I cant. Her breath caught, her pulse fluttering as she felt the pull of those eyes. She had the oddest sensation that if she wasnt careful, shed find herself tumbling into those black depths, becoming the captive instead of the captor.
Lifting her hand, she reached for him, sliding her palm across his warm, granite chest, tracing his tattoo, feeling the ripple of hard muscle against her skin. Desire arced through her body. His masculine scent rose up to meet her on a rush of dark, carnal pleasure.
The animal inside him, pacing angrily, turned its head toward her in greeting.
Dont touch me, the man snarled.
I have no choice. She stared into those furious eyes, forcing herself to hold his gaze. Hear me, Feral. Your only chance at survival is to cooperate with me. If you fail to prove useful, Birik will destroy you. And I dont want that.
A muscle in his jaw leaped. Then let me go.
I cant. Her palm slid down to his abdomen to brush the edge of the thatch of hair springing up around his root. His muscles tightened, quivering beneath her touch. Let me mount you, warrior.
Never. But his erection twitched, jerking. His will denied what his body craved.
What both their bodies craved. She knew he remembered as well as she did what it had been like, that slide of flesh within flesh. The pleasuregood Mother, the pleasure. She hadnt realized it could be like that. Her body had been breached more times than she could count, yet sex had never brought her anything but discomfort or pain.
Until this man walked into her life. From the moment she first saw him, her body had throbbed almost continuously, pulsing and contracting with desire, dampening her thighs. Now that passion, that power arced through the room, thickening.
The sound of a vicious animal rumbled from the Ferals throat. That hand gets any closer to my shaft and Ill rip your head from your shoulders.
Skye released a sigh. I dont want to force you.
Then dont, he snapped.
You dont understand! If only she had the time to back off and let him calm beneath her touch for a few days. But Birik had never been a patient man. And she sensed the anger ran deep in this Feral. A few days, or even weeks, might not be enough.
I understand all I need to, he snarled.
But he didnt. Not at all. She had no choice but to raise the passion between them in whatever way she must. Skye dipped her head to his chest, kissing his warm skin. He smelled of night forests, wild and untamed. Darting her tongue out, she tasted him, as pleased by his taste as by his scent. Everything about him made her want him more.
Moving a step to the side, she pressed her mouth to his abdomen, then to his hip bone, scenting the faint musk of his erection.
She lifted her head and looked at him, her breathing uneven, her eyes growing heavy with desire. Can I kiss you there?
No.
She continued to his broad, rock-hard thigh, kissing, licking.
Witch. His growl was still one of furious warning, but beneath the anger, passion vibrated.
I want you inside me, warrior, she said huskily. Just as you want me. Your body longs to press deep within mine.
I dont want you. I never want you.
You wanted me before. In the woods.
That was before I knew what you were.
She sighed. Hed thought she was human. Birik had given her the ability to hide the copper rings around her irises for just that purpose.
Something had happened when theyd kissed yesterday. A strange sexual energy had passed between them, bonding them in some indefinable way. All night her body had wept for release, a release only he could give her. Shed woken knowing hed come back to her.
And he had.
Unfortunately, Biriks orders had been as clear and sharp as a piece of cut glass. When the Feral returned, she must capture him.
And she had.
Skye curled her fingers around his leg, caressing his inner thigh as she stood beside the stone where he was pinned, letting her fingers slide almost to his groin. Let me touch you, warrior.
No.
Stubborn man. He needed more time. If she forced him now, so violently against his will, his hatred would only grow stronger and more impossible to breach. Shed never calm him, never get him to accept his place here. And he must accept it.
She couldnt give up.
The alternative meant his destruction.
Fury clouded Paenthers mind, rage blurred his vision. His body burned to slake its need on the witch whose soft hands stroked his thigh, whose softer lips laid kisses on his hip, seducing. Tormenting.
He fought the attraction, struggled to feel nothing as he had so many times in the past. But, as in the past, his body had a will of its own.
How many times had Ancreta come to him as hed lain chained in that cellar? How many times had she taken him into her mouth and sucked him hard? He could still feel the torment of those golden curls tumbling over his hips as he fought the arousal and lost. Every time, hed lost.
Shed lift those miles of skirts to her waist and straddle him, cruel laughter in her eyes that hed fought her, and shed won yet again. Hed buck and try to throw her off, but shed clamp that surprisingly strong hand around his shaft and squeeze him until he quit bucking, then guide him into her hole, taking him inside.
Hatred ran like blood through his memory. Gregor would invariably join them. As Ancreta rode him, as he fought to withhold his seed, Gregor would grab his head and begin chanting, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his skull until blood ran down his temples and through his hair. And as Paenther lost the battle, coming in a hot rush of pleasure and fury, his mind wrenched open, Gregor would delve into his mind and rip at the animal spirit that had only recently joined him, trying to remove him, to steal him, the pain beyond anything Paenther had ever endured before, or since.
And he hated.
Lost in the memory, he barely distinguished between the blond Ancreta of his nightmares and the dark-haired witch with the blue eyes whose hands even now slid over his body, one over his arm, the other trailing up his hip, the fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his shaft.
A growl rumbled in his throat, his mind a haze of fury and memory. As her soft hand closed around his shaft, he turned feral, his fangs and claws unsheathing. He attacked her in the only way left to him, striking at the arm that had ventured too close to his mouth.
His animals fangs sank into her forearm, ripping off a thick hunk of her flesh. Warm blood drenched his mouth. Raw satisfaction burned through the haze of his anger as he watched her jerk away, her face ashen. He spit the flesh onto the floor. Witch. If he were loose, hed kill her. Hed shift into his panther form and rip open her throat, then eat out her heart.
He snarled, waiting for her retribution, tensing for the pain shed deal, and not caring. But the witch only stumbled backward, holding the wounded arm in front of her, the blood flowing steadily down the front of her dress. She backed up until she reached the far wall, then sank to the floor beside the doe, cradling her injury.
Paenther watched her, searching for pleasure in her pain, and found it frustratingly absent. His fangs and claws retracted. She wasnt Ancreta. This witch was too damned fragile-looking. And she wasnt acting like hed expected her to. No scream. No tears.
Ancreta would have been beating him by now, with the closest weapon. Stabbing him. Cutting chunks out of his own flesh, her eyes brilliant with vengeance.
Was this witch more controlled than Ancreta? More clever, perhaps, planning her retribution more thoroughly?
As he watched her, the blood stopped running. The flesh grew and knit until, at last, other than the stain on her gown, she was back to normal.
Still, she sat there as the doe nuzzled her cheek, leaning into the animals touch, her eyes closed, a deep unhappiness in the lines of her body. Finally, she looked up and met his gaze, nothing but sad emotions in her eyes.
With a sigh, she looked up at the ceiling. Theyre not full, she said wearily. She met his gaze again with those deep, fathomless eyes. We have to fill them. I know you hate it, but neither of us has a choice.
She rose and came over to him, climbing onto the stone and settling back on her heels between his parted legs as she had before. He waited for the cruelty of her touch, expecting it. Wanting it. Needing to know hed broken through that calm facade of hers. But the hands that brushed his thighs were as soft and gentle as before.
She puzzled him. Was there no cruelty in her? A gentle witch? Now, there was an oxymoron if hed ever heard one.
How can you touch me softly after I attacked you? he heard himself ask.
She didnt meet his gaze. Youve done nothing more than any wild creature would do when trapped.
He scowled at her and at the twinge of guilt he felt for hurting her, the evidence of which darkened her dress.
Dammit, I wont feel guilty. Her gentleness, her vulnerability, were just an act. A lie. Maybe even flat-out enchantment. Hed be a fool to trust her in any way. And hed already been fool enough to last an immortal lifetime.
His successful strike and her silent acceptance of the pain had taken the edge off his fury but done nothing to dampen his desire. As she knelt between his legs, caressing his hips, thighs, and abdomen, touching his shaft with only her heated gaze, he felt the sexual energy roll over his flesh and pound in his blood.
His breathing turned labored as he struggled not to rock his hips, as he fought against the need to demand she take him into her body and bring him to release.
Finally, she lifted her hands and moved to his side, to sit with her back against the curve of the rock shelf. Her face was flushed, her own breathing labored, her chest rising with each harsh breath.
Slowly his body cooled, slowly she quieted, not quite touching him until she laid her palm against his rib cage.
The animal inside you calms to my touch. I wish you could, too, warrior.
Never. But the word was without heat.
A gentle witch. Was it possible?
She climbed down off the rock and went to her animals, freeing them. For long minutes, she stroked them, one after the other, whispering to them as they clamored for her attention. Finally, she walked toward the door with a tense unhappiness that pulled at him, her animals pressing around her as they had when shed first walked in.
Where are you going? he asked.
She looked back at him, over her shoulder. Its almost midnight, she said quietly.
He saw the glisten of tears in her eyes.
CHAPTER 4
Skye danced, as she did every midnight, her hands high above her head, her body swaying and twisting to the music of the Earth, clad only in the blood of the sacrifices.
The power of her gift rode her flesh as she danced, a harsh tingling that sank into her muscles and bones and tore at her heart. High above her, the orbs tucked in between the stalactites and flickering lightwicks sparkled and spit with energy.
In a loose circle around her, the sorcerers chanted.
Faster, Birik snapped from the corner of the whitewashed room. His pale hair glowed silver in the cool light, his cold gaze pinned to the power orbs as one of his snakes, a rattler, curled across his shoulder. Beside him stood the doe tied fast to the rock.
Skyes gaze fell to the desperate animal, to her large, frightened eyes. And to the bloody dagger in Biriks hand. Grief threatened to swallow her, and she tore her gaze away and spun faster, her feet sure on the blood-slick stones. She felt as if it were her soul that was being slaughtered.
If only it were Biriks blood drenching her body! But the small flare of dark emotion died as quickly as it rose, snuffed out by the crushing weight of desolation.
It didnt matter. Nothing mattered. For years and years, the creatures of her heart had died at midnight, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Nothing she could do to change her fate or theirs. The Mother, the goddess, had long ago forsaken them all.
Now shed been forced to drag a man, a Feral, into this hell. Fear for him cut like broken glass.
She danced, struggling to forget, to block out the raw smell of the blood coating her hair and skin, fighting to crawl into her mind, away from the savagery, away from the cries of the doe struggling to reach her, begging her to save her.
Inside, she cried out her own frustration at the wrongness, at the horror of what she was forced to do. Because she couldnt save her. She couldnt save any of them. The only thing she might possibly be able to do was keep the man, the Feral, from ending like all her other creatures. She must. Her soul would die if she were forced to dance in his blood as well.
As the does cries ended abruptly, Skye threw back her head, her chest pierced with a pain she couldnt show, her mind echoing with an anguished, silent scream.
Moments later, she heard Birik approach from behind and closed her eyes as warm blood slid over her scalp and cascaded down her body, spreading fingers of warmth against the chill of the cavern air, carving holes in her heart.
Skye flung her hands into the air above her, pulling the power Birik demanded, desecrating her precious tie to the creatures of the Earth.
The blood ran down her cheeks like tears.
Paenther scented violets even before the witch stepped into the room. She returned without her animals, her hair wet as if shed just showered, her eyes hollow. Without a word, without meeting his gaze, she crawled up beside him, between his body and the wall, and lay down, curling against his hip. He could feel her trembling.
As much as he hated her, hed always had finely honed protective instincts toward women and children, and they rose now. Something had hurt her. He reminded himself he didnt care. But as he felt her slowly calm, her breathing evening out in sleep, the tension eased from his own body.
He wasnt sure when hed drifted off, but he woke to the sound of water dripping from the stalactites into the puddles scattered across the room and the feel of the witchs silken head on his chest. She had one arm wrapped around his waist, the other hand tucked against her neck. That second arm was nearly within reach of his mouth. But hed lost the desire to hurt her. Her gentle touch and her acceptance of his fury had taken the edge off his need for revenge.
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.