Lycan Alpha Claim 3 (122 page)

Clara saw him flick his eyes at her throat and back to her face, his uncomfortable expression. She narrowed her eyes. What was he thinking?

She asked the next question instead, the most obvious one. “What is this
fragment
?”

His eyes became hooded and dark. “They are a people bent on taking. They take whatever they can, from whomever they can, use it until it is no longer worthwhile, then discard it. Like locusts.”

Clara stared at him, watching his fists clench. The cords on his neck stood out, and his huge hands bunched into fists the size of her old reticule.

“Bracus said that they kidnap women for forced breeding.”

Matthew nodded once.

So it was true
.
Suddenly, Clara became acutely aware that it was just she and Matthew. Here in the forest, they were quite vulnerable.

Matthew saw the emotions pass over her face and knew what she was thinking.

“Fear not. They would not dare try to take you.”

Clara watched his posture change, becoming
more.
He would be something
for them to fight against.

“They have no Band?”

Matthew shook his head. “No. My existence with them...” He shrugged. “We do not know why I was with them. Bracus has speculated...” He turned away from her.

He felt her approach, her warmth a solid thing, worming its way underneath his skin.

“What?” she asked softly.

“That they may have come upon my mother...” He breathed out in a rush, his face hotter than he could stand. “And they kept me for a slave of sorts.”

Oh, how horrible. They might have taken him while he and his mother were outside the protection of their clan.

And he had been raised a slave
.

Clara was a hair's breadth from his back. She reached out to the broadness of it, the fine fibers of the tunic having small bumps where the linen and cotton mixed.

He had suffered as she had. They actually knew each other well, she realized, at least in the ways that mattered
.

She pressed her palm on his back. His spine formed a shallow canal between muscles that bunched and intersected, running from huge shoulders to a tapering waist where diminutive swords lay crisscrossed. But Clara was unafraid. His treatment of her was that of someone who did not know, could not know
,
kindness, concern... care. How could one show compassion when one had never known it? The Band would include him but would not be nurturers.

She laid her head in the middle of his back, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. Silently, she lent her compassion to him, wanting him to know that she forgave him his treatment, to understand he had a friend.

He felt her heat seep into his body. It slid to his extremities. With a low groan, he turned in one smooth motion and grabbed her upper arms, his hands completely encircling them and drew her to him until their chests were crushed together.

Clara felt him pull her against him in a spine-tingling rush of desire that swept over her in a heated wash. She was powerless to remind herself that this must not happen, that he was not of the sphere. The
fragment
raged about them, waiting to take the unprotected. His own Band sought them even now. Instead, she fell into his embrace like a woman lost, a bottle in the ocean swept to sea.

Matthew put a hand underneath her chin, cupping it loosely, his fingertips moving up the length of it, gliding until they swept beyond her temple, carving pathways through her hair. He grasped it tightly, and she gasped. He held her there and gazed into her eyes. He did not want to force her, but he could not seem to help his actions, resisting as long as he could. He felt that his whole life had been preparation for this moment with this woman.

Matthew let the question fill his eyes. She saw it and gave a very slight nod. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

Clara was shocked by the softness of his kiss. For all his size and mannerisms, she thought his kiss would be an onslaught. But it was not. It was soft, a velvet feather. With pressure and movement, his lips lifted, sought, connected, and explored. When he took her lower lip in his teeth, capturing it there, he nibbled on it then sucked it into his mouth softly. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth delicately then with increasing passion, and Clara was lost, her body afire. Clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline, she pressed her body harder into his, her hands sliding up around his neck.

Matthew was desperate for more of her touch, and when her hands dug into his shoulders as encircled his neck, he lifted her right off the ground. She held onto him. His kisses rained down like rose petals on her throat, her face. Everywhere skin was, he worshiped it with his mouth.

She felt him move her until her back was against the same tree she had cowered against earlier. The rough bark bit slightly as his body covered hers completely. Those large hands pressed her body against his, one hand exploring her ribcage and waist and the other holding her against the trunk.

Matthew became aware of far-off noises, and broke off his attentions. His breath came in quick gasps. Senses sharpening, he looked down on her. Clara's eyes were pools of turquoise in a face flushed a deep pink. The marks of abuse faded, and in their place, he saw lips that were swollen from kisses instead of fists.

Damn.

He wanted her. Need sang in his body like a finely tuned instrument. But his senses had roared to life, and that meant threats were near. Ignoring his Band's directives could not negate the deeply honed instincts he had been born with.

“What?” Clara asked, languid and drowsy in his embrace.

“Someone draws near.” Matthew gently lowered her down, pulling her tight against his chest, his hand stroking her hair, his eyes scanning the distance.

He heard horses but not Band.
Fragment?
He pushed Clara behind him. “Stay behind me, no matter what occurs. Do not leave my side.”

Clara felt sick. It was too many things, one on top of the other. She put her hand on the tree but met his gaze, nodding.

Satisfied, Matthew turned away from her. Releasing his daggers from the small of his back, his hands swung around to the front of his body, his stance widening as the thundering of the horses hooves neared. Matthew lowered into a crouch.

Clara watched Matthew move in front of her and take the small swords from their sheaths. Their singing metal sound made her ears ring. She finally heard the approaching horses and knew that her life would be changing yet again. She badly wished to move up behind Matthew, out of sight and hidden behind him.

But if there were to be a fight, she would be in the way, so she stood where she was. Vulnerability was her burden to carry.

****

Charles and Clarence waited until the two
savages
were gone and the others back inside the gate.

“She is not here. You heard those
savages
. She has escaped...”

“Or been taken,” Clarence said.

Charles nodded.

“We follow them. Where they lead, we shall follow, and the Princess will be there.”

Charles palmed his jaw thoughtfully. “They went to the trouble to acquire her, and then she slips between their fingers?” His fingers clenched then splayed. He shook his head. Something was amiss. The
savages
seemed far too astute and instinctual
to allow such a thing.

“Agreed, but our path is laid before us, Charles. Whatever may have happened, it matters not. She is still in danger, true?”

“Yes.”

They followed. For Clara.

****

Queen Ada sent Henry ahead to the huge complex surrounded by an intimidating natural fence made of the huge timbers that were so prevalent in this strange place.

It had not been without argument.

“Queen Ada, I implore you. We must behave in a friendly and peaceful way, not lurk about as if we mean harm.”

“We do mean harm, Henry. I do not wish to make peace with the
savages
. I wish to take what is mine, return to the sphere, and have the betrothal go forward so that we may ally the kingdoms.”

He sighed. She was stupidly stubborn. “My Queen, I will spy for you but I do not feel it is to our benefit.”

“Duly noted. Now go.” She smiled at him without warmth, uncapping her wine flask.

Henry eyed the flask and tried again. “Queen Ada, what of food? When was the last time you took a meal? Some cheese perhaps?”

She glowered at him, and he unflinchingly held her gaze.

“Fine.” She made a disgusted noise in her throat. “You, guard.”

“Yes, my Queen?”

She spoke to him but looked directly at Henry, “Ready some cheese with
grapes.
” She spat the last word sarcastically. Henry was sure it was for his benefit. “So this worrisome nagging will discontinue.”

“Post haste, my Queen.”

Henry heard him rustling for the food.

“Satisfied?” she said, her question both a challenge and a statement.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes,
my Queen,
” Henry said with resignation.

She smiled at his discomfiture. Whatever made others uncomfortable seemed to please her.

She was a hateful example of humanity.

He turned away and left her and the other guards in the deepest part of the woods, making his way toward a fence constructed of huge logs that had their tops sharpened to dangerous points.

As he approached, he became aware of raised voices. He crouched down behind wild ferns with serrated fronds. The low branches of the evergreen trees almost caressed their tops. He could not be seen
.
Yet one of the huge
savages
turned in his direction, his nostrils flaring, his hand hovering over the hilt of a dirk that hung at his hip.

But a short older man with a barrel chest and a bald head gained his attention, and he was distracted. However, it was
what
they said that made the breath still in Henry's body.

“But know this. I want that Princess back here, standing in front of me, unharmed. Do you understand?”

More words were exchanged. Henry heard only snippets. Somehow, they had kidnapped the Princess then lost her? To whom? Henry was more mystified than ever. This was no longer a simple acquisition mission. They had grossly underestimated the sophistication of the
savages
, wrongly assumed a state of primitiveness. He closed his eyes for a moment, despairing. Gaining Clara for the sphere was now no longer a mere directive from the Queen.

Clara was their last hope, their greatest chance for a future without tyranny.

****

Jabez watched the Queen's First Guard make his stealthy departure from the foliage to explain what he had also heard: the Princess had fallen out of the
savages’
grasp, and she was being reacquired somewhere in this vast wilderness.

Jabez moved quietly away toward their camp. He had seen the
savages
constantly scanning the area, as if they knew they were observed, which was impossible. He thought upon their strange size, the gills, that only fish should have. Their way of movement was lithe and graceful but deadly. They would be fierce fighters.

Jabez’s heart raced at the thought of coming against them. The Prince's guard would prevail. They were simply too many for the
savages
to gain advantage.

They would surrender or die.

He hurried back to tell the Prince all he knew.

****

Matthew's body trembled, adrenaline coursing through him. A new, almost painful purpose drilled through his body. It was more than pure desire. He wished to share something with Clara, something intrinsically powerful.

Life.

Now that epiphany was threatened.

Horses slowed and came into view. It was the
fragment
, and they were many. Matthew's heart sped. He could feel Clara's fear behind him. The need to cover her with his protection choked him, singing through him, unlike anything he had ever experienced.

His eyes traveled the group of twelve men and one female.
Evelyn
.
Her eyes pleaded with him, her hair a matted mess, one eye swollen shut.

Rage surged through Matthew. They would die. Or he would die making them sorry.

His eyes landed on one male, then another, whom he recognized. The past decade had not dimmed his memory.

Margaret’s attackers.

A large male dismounted, keeping his gaze locked on Matthew. “Well, what do we have here?” His eyes flicked from Matthew to Clara.

Clara looked at the obviously abused girl and knew instantly that it was Evelyn. She looked upon each cruel face and saw no mercy, only evil intent. She knew that look. She knew it very well. The
fragment
looked upon them as the Queen looked upon her. As Prince Frederic did. Good Guardian, this was a horror.