Seduced by the Beast (22 page)

            An end to her
torment!

            Years had passed
and no end to her predicament had been foreseen to her.  She thought the end of
her days would be spent here, in this accursed place.

            Or would it be
just the beginning?  She knew he planned to claim her once the curse had been
broken—if it was even possible.

            “How can this
be?  The beastpeople are forbidden to enter this land, as we are theirs.”  An
uneasiness assailed her at the implications, and she frowned.  What had he
done?

            Typically, the
tinkling sounds of her chains drew Lord Conrad’s attention, and this time was
no exception.  He ran his gaze over her body, his eyes a soulless black as lust
filled him as it always did.  Careful to conceal her revulsion, she endured his
look, pushing it to the back of her mind as she generally did.  “Please do not
tell me you risked your men to enter Shadowmere.”

            Much as she
despised him and her virtual imprisonment, she couldn’t abide the thought of
bloodshed and endangerment so needless.  She wondered how many men he’d lost to
his obsessions but knew it didn’t bear thinking on.

            Lord Conrad
continued smiling as if she hadn’t spoken, his black eyes glittering like a
serpent’s.  She refrained from shivering, knowing it would not help her cause. 
He crossed the distance spanning them and clasped her in his arms, apparently
completely oblivious to the fact that she went rigid, trying to hold herself
aloof from his armor clad body.  His musky smell filled her nostrils and she
breathed through her mouth to avoid his familiar scent.  His clammy hands
smoothed over the bare skin of her waist, his clinging fingers bringing to mind
leeches.

            “Your concern
touches me, beloved.  Rest assured, we were careful and not detected.  He shall
not be missed.  I suspect he was naught more than a rogue hunter, for the
condition we found him in....He was easily taken.”  He chuckled, his cruelty
seeping out like oil, tainting her with his foulness.  She wanted desperately to
be free of him, to go and bathe his stench and touch from her skin.

            She’d learned in
the time she had been with him, however, not to allow her revulsion to show, or
to let it rule her life.  She knew, despite his cruelty, or perhaps because of
it, that the certainty that she found him vile would not persuade him to
release her.  More likely it would only inspire him to torment her more, and if
she allowed these feelings to dominate her, she simply could not endure her
captivity.  She would go mad. 

            Moreover, she
felt a strange compulsion fill her that forced everything else to the fringes
of her mind, felt, but tamed by a need even greater than the desire to escape
Lord Conrad’s invasive touch. 

            Ashanti felt the
need to see the creature that was to be sacrificed so that she might live.

            She had never
seen one of these creatures of legend, but it was far more than curiosity that
sparked inside her and grew quickly to a desperate need to behold what few
mortals had ever seen and lived to tell about.

            Myth held that
they were loathsome to look upon, that even when they assumed a human-like
form, they appeared more monstrous than human, that only to look upon one was
sometimes sufficient to drive one insane with pure terror.  There were other
tales, as well, that, with only a look, or touch, they could fell a powerful
man….for what purpose could only be guessed, for in general they shifted and,
in their beast form, slaughtered all within their path.

            It was insane
even to consider going near one of her own will, and yet she found that the
need was near overwhelming.  Perhaps because she hoped it would cleanse her of
the guilt that was burgeoning inside her that the creature was to die only for
the
possibility
that it might cure her?

            Knowing it was
useless to even try, yet unwilling to abandon the hope that he’d heed her, she
dared to request something of him.  Her voice muffled by his proximity, she
said, “I would like to see him.”  Ashanti felt him stiffen, his arms like a
rigid wooden cage, trapping her.

            He pulled back
and looked into her eyes, his expression a mixture of suspicion, reluctance and
pleasure.  “You are certain?”

            The pleasure, she
understood.  He seemed to suffer from an overwhelming need to brag about every
accomplishment and there was little doubt in her mind that he was eager to show
her his prize.

            His reluctance,
she might have put down to concern for her safety, but she knew him far too
well by now to allow that as a real possibility.  More likely his reluctance
stemmed from his suspicions, but she was at a loss to fathom how her motives
could be suspect, or what he thought she might do.

            Perhaps he
suspected that the sight of the creature might deprive her of her wits and
feared he would end up with a blubbering lunatic?

            The thought almost
brought a smile to her lips.  She suppressed the urge even as she dismissed her
anxieties about his suspicions.  She didn’t care what he thought, what he
suspected, or how it might affect her in the future.  She felt that, regardless
of possible consequences, she
had
to see the creature.

            “You will take
his life.  I wish to see the beast who sacrifices so much for me.”  It was rare
that she made a request of him, and she hoped this time he would oblige her
wishes.

            He turned to go,
and she felt defeated, but then he held his arm out to her.  “Very well, but I
warn you, ‘tis not a fair sight.” 

***

            As they stepped
into the dungeon and the heavy wooden door closed behind them, Ashanti noticed
with some relief that a small circle of light surrounded them, provided by a
solitary flickering torch.  A guard sat in a rickety chair just inside the
dungeon that occupied the nether regions of the castle.  Stout and prone to
drink, he stumbled awkwardly to his feet as they entered, bobbing his head more
out of fear than respect.  Lord Conrad fixed him with a long, cold stare but
said nothing.  Instead, after that one, hard stare, he seemed to dismiss the
frightened man, turning instead to pick up a torch, which he held to the one on
the wall until it, too, flickered to life.

            Beyond, the
dungeon seemed to stretch into an eternity of darkness.  Ashanti shivered, but
not from the cold and damp that permeated the air, crawling across her scantily
clad form like the lifeless hands of a dead lover.   The place reeked of
sickness, torture and death.   The darkness seemed almost a tangible thing.

            Without a word,
apparently oblivious to her distress, Lord Conrad strode down the narrow
corridor leading to the cells.  Closing her mind to the possibility of other
occupants, Ashanti followed him, staying close only because the heavy blackness
was even more repellent than Lord Conrad’s proximity.

            An odd sort of
anticipation blossomed inside her as they traversed the narrow, twisted
corridors that seemed to lead off in every direction with no apparent design. 
A part of her mind counted the paces and turns they took, an instinctual
reaction rather than through conscious effort, as it flickered through her mind
that it would be all too easy to become lost in this labyrinth of darkness. 

            She was more
conscious of the tempo of her heart, which seemed to outstrip their pace. 
Fear?  Unaccustomed activity? 

            She dismissed the
last almost as soon as she thought it.  Despite her affliction, she was not
such a weakling as to become breathless and weak from so little exertion, so
that her heart labored to support her.

            The fear….She
acknowledged she felt some, and had every right to it, all things considered,
but she knew there could be no real threat or Lord Conrad would not have brought
her…would not have come without men to protect them.  He was not a coward, but
neither was he a fool. 

            At any rate, it
was more than just fear.  It was anticipation, and it grew stronger as they
progressed, more powerful, until she could not dismiss the fact that it was not
altogether a product of her own mind.  Some
thing
was reaching out to
her, touching her in a way she had never been touched before.

            She tried to
dismiss those thoughts as purely fanciful imaginings, but, in her heart, she
knew it was more than that.  It was as if she was rushing to meet a long, lost
lover.

            That thought was
so stunning that she stumbled and almost fell. 

            Lord Conrad
stopped.  Briefly, she thought it was because he’d heard her.  Then she noticed
he’d stopped before a cell and was staring fixedly at something within.

            A rush of mixed
emotions filled her.  Almost reluctantly, she moved forward until she was
standing beside him peering beyond the bars and into the dark cell. 

            “Why is he
naked?” Ashanti asked, her amber gaze drawn to the creature…the man… within
like a magnet despite the dimness of the barren room. 

            Lord Conrad
blinked, as if awakening from a daze, but instead of answering, he turned and
thrust the torch he held into a rusted iron brazier bolted to the wall outside
the cell.  The flames flickered, casting eerie shadows.

            In the dappled
light, she could see the trussed man who dwarfed even the large cell.  His
massive arms were stretched above his head and manacled with heavy chain to the
damp stone.  The muscles of his chest and shoulders strained in pain and the
effort not to collapse, his legs spread and chained to the wall as well. 
Ashanti remained well away from him, the bars a barrier between them, but his
size was still impressive even with the distance.  He was tall—no—huge,
towering above her height by at least a foot, and she was as tall as any man. 
Ice blond hair, like pale gold, fell past an impossibly wide chest and clung to
his narrow waist, baring and hiding tantalizing bits of tanned flesh.  His sex
was thankfully covered with a loincloth, but otherwise he was naked.

            “This was how he
was found.  No doubt clothing restricts their capabilities.  He’s a monster, is
he not?”

            Knowing agreement
with Lord Conrad was always an expected thing, Ashanti nodded slowly, absently,
wonder widening her eyes as she looked over him again, letting the sight sink
into her mind.

            At the sound of
Lord Conrad’s voice, the man had looked up, his wild features hardening into a
mask of hatred and rage.  She felt Lord Conrad stiffen beside her.  The
prisoner’s gaze then shifted to her, and she felt as if she’d been struck a
blow to her solar plexus, the air knocked out of her lungs.  She gasped, trying
to retain her composure, but it was nearly impossible with him looking at her. 
Her heart quickened, the beating pulse pounding in her ears. 

            She shook her
head, covering her eyes momentarily.  Ashanti had never seen one of the
creatures of legend.  That he looked as human as she did startled her.  She’d
expected him to look like the beast she’d always been told they were…terrifying
even to look upon. Horrible, with animalistic features and no sign of human
intelligence in his eyes.

But although his body was
that of a human, his eyes betrayed the untamed animal hidden inside.  Framed by
impossibly angular features and high cheekbones, his gaze held her mere
seconds, speaking volumes without saying a word.

            He was furious,
that, she knew.  But at her?

            The impact of the
gaze felt palpable, a connection she should never have made.  She knew, even as
a young child, that you should never look into the eyes of an animal and hold
its stare.  Had she challenged him without realizing it?

            Ashanti looked
away, her heart slowing as she did so, her breathing relaxing once more. 
Strangely, she felt as if he’d spoken to her with that one look, almost as
though he begged her help, but he looked too proud a man to ever beg for
anything.

            “Damned animal. 
Do you see his defiance?  I’ll be glad to break this beast.”  His hands tightened
into fists, relaxed, and tightened again, as if the thought of torturing and
killing the beast were barely restrained.  What horrors had Lord Conrad in
store for this manbeast?

            A well of
sickness invaded her throat at Lord Conrad’s comment.  One of his many
pleasures was tormenting animals…in fact any creature weaker than himself and
although the beastman looked to be a capable warrior, he was chained and unable
to defend himself should Lord Conrad yield to his propensity for torture.

            She knew that he
would.  There was no one or nothing to hold him back from his depravity.  Least
of all her.

            Ashanti swallowed
against a painfully dry throat to speak, eager to distract him, yet in too much
turmoil to choose her words as carefully as she should have.  “How can you be
so certain that he is a beastman?  He looks so...so human.”