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Steeling himself for what was to come, Bron followed Veldor's steps down into the cellar where they were holding her. In chains. He'd expected as much from Veldor, but seeing her that way had hit him hard. Despite his vow not to react to Veldor's actions and let it distract him, anger had swamped him. His urge to take Veldor and snap every bone in his body was almost overwhelming. His gut was knotted and it took immense focus to harness his emotions and cloak them.
Her head lifted and Maerose glared at Veldor when they emerged into the space. Her thick, chestnut hair was matted and tangled; her blue eyes alight with hatred. Her gown was shredded, revealing much of her breasts. Seeing what Veldor had done to her, Bron felt the need to grind the man's face into the dirt until he suffocated. He swallowed it down. Deep inside, where he felt the true strength of his faith, Bron knew it would achieve nothing. There were other ways, ways that would ensure her safety. Egremont had told him the need to be in control was his enemy. Veldor, on the other hand, had given in to his need to control, and Bron could see that it was the wrong way to handle the situation. What Egremont had said was true. Understanding of all things and their interactions was the only way forward. He would find another way. The right way.
Even as he stood at the bottom of the steps, looking across at her, he could feel a powerful force funneling through the space between them. He knew he should shield it from Veldor's knowledge, but he couldn't help being inquisitive as to its strength. He put his hand into his pocket, his fingers weaving through her ribbon. He felt as if her heart beat against his, the connection was so strong.
At first she hadn't spared a glance for either Cale or him, focusing her energies entirely on Veldor. Then she must have felt it, because a ripple ran through her body and she glanced in his direction, her eyes filled with astonishment.
Bron forced himself to look away, to close the connection off.
Veldor seemed not to notice, for he was busy preening. He walked back and forth in front of her, pacing with deliberation. He lifted a handful of her hair and turned back. “Come closer, Bron. Look at the May-born woman; see how pretty she is, how tempting."
Bron walked closer, biting back his instincts. Even in her captivity, her beauty and resilience shone through and kindled a deep flame within him, something beyond their connection, built of true respect. He nodded. “She is everything I expected she would be.” He couldn't keep the pride from his voice.
Veldor shot him a warning glance. With a move seemingly born of frustration, Veldor wrenched down her gag and bent to kiss her mouth.
Bron leashed his emotions and watched as she shuddered and fought, her head moving. She doesn't want him. But Veldor pinned her to the wall with one claw-like hand. When he drew back, she spat at him. He laughed in her face and pulled the gag back into place.
When Veldor looked back to see his reaction, Bron shrugged it off as easily as he could. He knew had to say something, to indicate he was willing. “Her mouth is as tempting as honey wine."
It was true, and although he voiced it reluctantly, he meant every word. He would ply her with kisses much less harsh and selfish in nature, though. But he would be just as driven as Veldor. He could not escape the fact. Egremont had told him it was no bad thing, when he had confided the concern, but would Maerose be as easily swayed?
Veldor's eyes narrowed, and he turned once again to Maerose, set, it seemed, on riling Bron. That made it easier for Bron to despise him. At the back of his mind, his plan was already formed. He still needed more of an insight into Veldor's plans, though. He must endure this moment, in order to find out more.
Veldor groped at Maerose. “You are desirable, shapely. I like meat on a woman when I ride her.” Her eyes flashed. “Many men have wanted you, I'm sure. Many would give their fortunes to be where I will be tonight ... between your thighs.” He turned and eyed Bron with a smirk, planting a direct thought in his mind. You have wanted her, too.
Bron wouldn't give Veldor the satisfaction of denying it. His desire for her ran deep now, seeing her bound and vulnerable, so lush and perfect in her captivity. His gaze rested on her breasts, where the torn stuff of her dress barely covered her nipples.
Veldor noticed. He reached up and tightened the shackles, forcing her to full stretch, his mouth a sneer of lust as her nipples fully emerged from the fabric.
She turned away from Veldor and in doing so, faced Bron. Despite the resentment still in her expression, her gaze was steady. There was accusation in her expression, and something else. A question. Curiosity. She had felt the connection, yes. Seemingly, she questioned it. Could she see that he stood alone, that he wasn't allied to them? More than that, could she truly understand the nature of the connection between them? It was more than he could hope for. His will strengthened, though, hope welling inside him. He resisted the urge to nod or send her a signal, in case Veldor sensed it.
"She is luscious,” Veldor continued. “See how her body responds to my touches.” He tweaked one nipple between thumb and forefinger. It tightened in the most delicious way, but she wasn't looking at Veldor.
She was looking at Bron.
He sensed the silent plea there on her open lips. She thrashed against the restraint, patches of red high on her cheeks.
"She tastes good.” Veldor bent and licked the bare skin between her breasts.
Her eyes closed.
Veldor turned back expectantly, determined to bait him.
Bron managed a smile. “It will make your task that much easier.” He forced the words out.
Veldor seemed somewhat satisfied with that. “Yes, it will. Com
e, let us drink ale together, and we can discuss the details.” He kissed her bared breast and tightened her gag before gesturing them to leave.
Bron's self-control was close to the breaking point by the time they left the cellar. He met her gaze one more time, fleetingly. The atmosphere in the room was charged with chaotic tension, but beneath it all he still felt that connection between them. He gripped his staff for strength, allowing the healing life within it to pulse into him, restoring his balance.
Back in the upstairs room, he made eye contact with Cale for the first time. Cale looked sheepish and turned away. Bron shook his head. Cale had been a good man, once.
He wanted to get away from them, to put his plan into action and soon. He took the tankard of ale Veldor offered. “Tell me, then, how do you intend to convince her?"
"Convince her? Oh, I see. You would have me explain her role?"
Bron swallowed his urge to challenge, reminding himself he was there to get information, and sat in the seat Veldor indicated. “Is there another way?"
