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Her arms were stiff, painful and weary, her shoulders felt as if they were ripping as she lowered her arms. She was unsteady on her feet, her limbs weakened from the time spent captive. She staggered and leaned back against the wall, cringing away from him and rubbing her wrists to ease the discomfort. At least I am nearer to being free, unchained. For some reason, her sense of hope had grown fiercer.
He stepped away, considering her. “I prefer you bound. It pleases me."
Resistance balled up inside her throat, choking her. She shook her head but he ignored it.
He lifted the skein of rope that had been used to truss her on their journey and tied her wrists together. He stepped away and pulled on the rope, controlling her, hauling her from against the wall toward him, gesturing at the cot. She staggered forward, and then pressed back against the wall again, denying him for as long as she was able.
"Ha, a fine game you are.” He lurched at her and pulled her head back by her hair as if to kiss her, pulling strands of her hair out by the roots as he did so.
The pain made her stronger. She took a gulp of air, and looked at him with hatred. His lips were wet, his eyes glazed. He smelt of strong ale. She winced when he lowered his head and thrust his tongue into her mouth. Every bit of her was pressed back into the stone wall at her back, his rude, harsh kiss making her innards clench.
With one hand, he knotted the rope around his wrist and groped her bare breast. The other was buried between her thighs, jabbing through the material of her shredded dress to touch her.
She tore her face away.
He turned his attention to her bared neck, tasting her.
She focused on the wall, determined to respond as little as possible. As she did, a movement caught her attention. There was something there, in the shadows at the bottom of the staircase. She had twice seen the rat there, but it wasn't a rat this time. Instead, she thought she saw wings moving in the dark shadows.
Veldor lifted his head and followed her glance, his eyes narrowing.
"I thought it was a rat,” she explained hastily, unwilling to draw his attention to it for some inexplicable reason.
He stared blankly at the dark corner, but there was no movement there under his scrutiny. “Your best attempts to distract me will not work.” He sighed and moved closer to her again, pulling at her breasts roughly. “The pleasure of seeing you bound this way makes my seed rise. I am eager to be lodged between your pretty thighs."
She couldn't respond, for beyond him a light had formed from nowhere, growing, whirling in on itself as if gathering strength. She felt the air flowing toward her, back and forth, as if the wind was rising and falling, or great wings flapped close by. There was a sudden violent rush of air toward them, knocking her out of Veldor's grip. Veldor cried out in pain, crumpling to the floor, clutching his shoulder. She gasped aloud, staring in disbelief, huddling back into the corner of the room for safety. For one moment, she thought she saw the form of a man. Then it was gone inside the strange vision before her. Beams of light danced in and around huge, flapping wings of white and gray.
What nature of creature was this? Astonished, she stared, unable to draw her gaze away or flee. Whatever it was, it was focused on Veldor, though, not her. As the vision shifted around Veldor, it faded in and out, and yet gusts of air rushed across the room, sending the candle flames flickering and lifting the hair from her neck. Veldor rolled on the floor, crying out in pain, his hands over his head as if protecting himself from a predatory creature. She watched in amazement as she saw his body tugged and beaten by an invisible force.
He writhed and clawed at the air above him, his hands clenching and grasping at the light, catching nothing. His chest jerked upwards; his body lifted and then dropped, winding him. She saw blood smart from his hands and face. He cursed and kicked out, only to be dragged bodily across the floor in front of her very eyes and hurled against the wall. His limbs twitched, his eyes closed, his hands and face scored and bloody. He grew weak and turned in on himself, cowering into a ball. Eventually, he stilled and slumped.
Her heart raced madly, fear holding her captive
in its uneasy grip. Veldor, her keeper, was wounded on the floor. What magic was this? Some strange vision of movement and light still shimmered next to where he lay. Would it come for her next? For the first time in her captivity, she screamed. She couldn't help herself.
The wings grew solid and then stilled, closing in on the beams of light. The image faded, and in its place stood a man. He was tall and powerful, his body glowing fiercely—like a god. Like an angel, a messenger from the gods. The light within him brightened, then dimmed. Where there had been wings was now a cloak. Where there had been beams of light, a man holding a staff.
It was the man who had come earlier, she realized, the handsome, dark-eyed stranger with the jet-black hair that fell past his shoulders. The man Veldor had called Bron. An eerie light still shone from him. He looked very different now, but it was the same man who had watched her in her shame earlier, the one she had wondered about. He had come back.
He bent to check on Veldor, then stood up and strode toward her. “He will rouse soon; we must hurry before his men discover us."
He had come to rescue her, after all. Relief poured over Maerose.
Reaching for her wrists where they were tethered, he touched her. As he did, a rush of dense heat moved between them. It felt as if she had sunk her bare arms into a warm pool of water on a summer's day. The feeling climbed through her body and she felt as if she had been touched, everywhere. Stunned, she exclaimed in surprise. It must be his heat, she realized, the light she had seen in him. And yet the light had all but gone.
He looked at her meaningfully, his eyes searching her face. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones stark in the wavering candlelight. “Are you well enough to move?"
His tone was tender and he moved close to her, smoothing his hand across her forehead. The touch of it was soothing and oddly delicious, easing her pain and giving her strength. His enquiring fingers also sent an awakening shiver through her body, and the woman in her responded. Between her thighs she warmed, melted.
She nodded quickly, still afraid of the strange occurrence she had witnessed, yet warming through with hope, and more. “I am well enough to go, please, if you will untie me—"
She couldn't continue, for at that moment his hands moved to her waist, where their firm grip sent a dizzying charge through her. Her heart hammered within her chest, and she felt sure he could feel it, for his hands were close upon her lower ribs.
"There isn't time. I will carry you.” He lifted her easily into his arms.
She rolled close to his chest and laid her cheek against the loose ties at the neck of his cloak, resting against him. She could feel his heart beating through his shirt. She felt oddly soothed, as if the apothecary had given her a calming beverage. Within moments he had carried her up the stairs and out, through a maze of corridors to the outside. She heard the distant laughter of men grow louder, then fade, and then felt the night air against her face. She breathed deeply, relief hitting her hard.
He headed into a nearby stable, where he came to a stop. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground. She kept her tethered hands on his shirt, staying close against him.
