It seemed no one
took note of their departure from Barakus. From what Swan could see, the
castle, built into the ground and foothills, was empty. True, she had only
been there a short time, but she had seen no one else, not even so much as a
servant, nor heard anything but the haunting call of wolves in the distance.
Regardless, she
had the eerie sense of hungry eyes following her every move as they set out,
watchful but unseen.
She was glad to
be going from this place and wondered how he could stand it. But then, the
beastmen were his own kind. She could never adjust to such a place, could not
imagine ever wanting to. It was alien, brutal. Her place was with her people,
her sister, who even now was in grave danger.
She was more than
a little dismayed to discover that the common mode of travel, when magic was
not used, and what was expected of her now, was running. This might well be
easy enough for those accustomed, but she was unused to the constant physical
exertion she’d been subjected to since arriving. Riding horseback kept her
muscles lithe, but she was a ruler, not an athlete.
Unfortunately,
due to the nature of predators, there were no common beasts of burden willing
to carry beastmen and, that being the case, none were available for her use.
They set out at a
steady paced jog under the rising moons, guided by plentiful light, the
landscape washed with watered red that revealed as much as it hid.
Watching the
silver and blood light mingle and play on the muscles of his naked back, Swan
was struck by the raw power he exuded with each movement, with each breath that
he took. It was difficult to reconcile him as one of the monsters. Wild, yes,
but a monster? She was no longer as certain as she had once been that he
deserved such a judgment.
Strength was
ingrained in the people of Shadowmere. Until ill had befallen her, she’d never
before realized just how vulnerable she was as a human, helpless even to cast
magic. The best defense she’d had was training with a blade, as all women must
learn, but she’d seen no weaponry with which to arm herself since her arrival
in Shadowmere.
It rankled being
dependent on another for everything, including protection, particularly when
she trusted nothing about the man save the fact that his nature alone precluded
trust.
She had only
these thoughts to keep her company, for Raphael said little and responded
less. The darkened landscape afforded no distraction, lying indistinct beyond
the circle of her vision, without even the shelter of trees to break the
monotony. Gradually, the loam, softened and pungent with fallen, decaying
leaves, gave way to hard, barren ground. Thousands of rocks littered their
path, as though mammoth stone had once been moved across the earth and rubbed
to pieces.
Swan was grateful
for the sturdy boots she’d been given, but still the stones made their mark
felt on her soles, made walking difficult and hazardous. Her feet and legs
ached with the near constant movement.
Raphael pushed
her to the boundaries of her endurance and beyond. Each league felt like a
hundred, and she soon realized that no matter how much it galled her that she
could not hide her weakness, she simply could not hold out. No training could
match that of a shifter. Her stamina had collapsed, and he had not even broken
a sweat.
Finally, when she
could run no more, she dropped to the ground. She gasped, clutching a stitch
in her side, her lungs heaving as she struggled for breath, her heart pounding
as if it would explode in her chest.
He stopped and
stood over her while she gathered herself. She wanted to strangle him, even if
he was doing this for her. At that moment, she felt like she could gladly curl
up and die, if only for the rest.
Without a word,
he bent and swept her into his arms. She yelped, shocked, and threw her arms
around his neck for support. He stooped and grabbed the fallen baskets before
taking off once more at a full run.
She was no petite
bit of fluff, no lightweight, and yet he carried her effortlessly, as though
she were no more than a part of himself. Weary beyond belief, she settled her
face against his neck. Within moments, her nostrils filled with him. His
subtle pheromones sent her blood to roaring. The burning need began to surface
like a live thing, insidious, creeping through her being and devouring logic
and control. Desire this potent was not, could not be, natural. Swan jerked her
face away, and his arms tightened around her, holding her snugly.
“Put me down,”
she said, thinking only that she must put distance between them before she
shamed herself.
As he had from
the time they had left, he ignored her.
The fact that he
did not even dignify her request with a response only fueled her fear and
anger. “Now, beast!” she commanded, her tone harsh, her voice shrill with
consternation.
The moment the
words left her mouth, she realized what she’d said was unforgivable, but it was
too late to snatch the words back, and her control was too tenuous for her to
care greatly. She could not desire him. It would have been impossible were he
any stranger, but this was far worse even than that. He was not of her own
kind. He was a beastman.
His jaw clenched,
the muscles working. “Your prejudice is ugly. It taints your beauty,” he
said, biting each word off.
Swan glared at
him, thankful for the dowsing anger that curbed her unwelcome appetite. “There
has been little enough proof that beastmen deserve my regard.”
He tensed as if
she’d slapped him. “And yet you expect the help of a beastman?”
“I do not need a
lecture on the virtues of Shadowmere. Let me down and I will seek my own way,”
she snapped unwilling to yield even knowing she had spoken in a way she should
not have.
He’d shamed her.
She had acted abominably, throwing his charity in his face. Never would she
have done so to another. Diplomacy had always been one of her strongest
assets, but with Raphael, she lost all sense of reason. She should apologize,
she knew, but it had been so long since she had, she found she could not force
herself to speak the words. Her throat closed up, her pride refusing to
budge.
He’d done nothing
but pick her up when she’d fallen, help her when she required it. Still, the
words would not come.
She should have
been ashamed of herself. In fact, she was, and the feeling of reproach was
alien to her. It made her angry at herself.
His arms
tightened around her, and he continued his pace.
“I warned you not
to touch me,” she said, voice soft with reproach.
“I think perhaps
you require a lesson in manners and humility.”
Alarmed, she
tensed. “How dare you threaten me! How dare you suggest that you have any
right to teach me anything!”
He glanced at
her, but said nothing.
Swan swallowed with some
difficulty. “What do you mean to do?”
Raphael would not
answer her, and despite attempt after attempt, she could not lure him into
speaking any more. She could blame no one but herself, ungrateful wretch that
she was. He was silent well into the night, though his anger was palpable with
every mile they crossed.
Eventually, the
tension and worries overcame her, and she slept, guilt plaguing her dreams.
CHAPTER FIVE
With the morning,
she changed into a swan. One moment, he was cradling her in his arms, the
next, a mist gathered and when it cleared, he held the graceful bird.
If he had still
harbored any doubts that she was under an enchantment, it had been dispelled.
A true swan maiden would shift much the same as he did when he shifted into his
beast form, with bones melding, their outer skin shivering as fur or down
cloaked them.
To change
instantly was unnatural.
Rising, he placed
the squawking bird in the empty basket he’d brought to carry her and latched
the lid. Although he studied her for some time, he saw no sign of the
intelligent, vibrant woman she was as a human. Did the spell consume her
entirely each day?
He thought of the
Flow, the mind force, and an idea occurred to him....
* * * *
She was sleeping
in down, surrounded by comforting warmth and softness. Something pricked her
consciousness, quiet, insistent. Swan snuggled deeper into the darkness,
wanting nothing but blissful rest. She was so tired. Her bones ached from the
run, from fighting to stay alive and continue going. Here all was peace, no
troubles plagued her. Only sleep.
A low growl of
sound nagged her, buzzing in her mind like a fly. She waved it away, felt it
tickle her lips, then her nose, and finally settle on her lobe.
“Swan,” a voice
whispered in her ear. She made no move to acknowledge the husky voice, instead
struggling to burrow deeper into the comfort of nothingness.
“Swan.” The voice
was louder this time, substantial, obviously not the stuff of dreams.
Something shook her shoulders. Still, she resisted. It was the none too
gentle swat on her buttocks, followed by a soothing caress that finally drove
the vestiges of sleep from her mind. Swan roused, groggy, struggling to turn
and sit up.
A hand pushed her
down, on her back. “Keep your eyes closed, little bird. Lay still.”
Raphael! She
obeyed him, because she could do nothing else. Her eyes were sealed shut,
heavy, as if made of lead rather than thin flesh. Instead of alarm though, she
felt only a drunken restlessness.
What was he doing
here? Where was she, for that matter? This was not her bed, and neither was
it the mass of furs she’d awakened on before. It felt nothing like either of
those, and yet of both, a blending of memories that eluded her.
Still, she could
not open her eyes. Blinded, she had no defense, could not run or save
herself. Her senses seemed unfocused, confused. If she didn’t know better,
she’d almost suspect she’d lost herself entirely, existed as nothing but a thought
in the darkness. Despite this handicap, she felt no fear, only a heightened
awareness. “Where are we?” she asked softly, anxious to distract him from
whatever his intent, listening for the sound of his movement but hearing
nothing.
“You changed, Swan.”
She startled. He
was above her now, but she hadn’t heard him move. “That’s ridiculous. I’m
here.”
He chuckled
darkly, by her ear once more. No heated breath stroked her skin with his
nearness. Swan shivered despite herself. His body settled over hers, trapping
her between his hard thighs. His sex weighed heavily against her belly as he
leaned over her.
“I’m reminded of
a promise I made.”
She was not so
sleep drugged that she missed the slight menace of those words. It did not
bode well for her. Swan struggled to sit up but he pinned her arms above her
head, until she lay helpless beneath him.
“What do you mean
by this?”
“You’ll know,
soon enough. First, an experiment.”
If anything, she
liked that suggestion less. Under his domination, he could do anything to
her. Swan shivered as something akin to fear and desire thrilled her blood.
“What have you done to me?”
“I haven’t done
anything ... yet.”
A palm skated
down her upraised arm, along the sensitive underside. Her breasts were drawn
taut at the angle, easily plucked from his position. She was naked and
wondered when she’d lost her gown, and how he had removed it without her
knowledge. He could do anything he wanted apparently, with her none the wiser.
The beastmen were
renowned for their skills in the bedroom, legendary. The thought had always
appalled her, but now she could not help the curiosity that filled her every
fiber.
Swan shook her
head, shoving the persistent, erotic thoughts aside. “You’re lying, else this
is a dream. You are here, but not.” She had to be dreaming. Never would she
allow a beast to touch her this way, to dominate her so completely with no
fight.
“Would you like
me to prove how very real I am?” he whispered against her ear, cupping one
breast in a firm grip.
Swan gasped at
his familiarity, at the near painful puckering of her nipple in his hand as it
reacted to his touch. He squeezed, kneading her firmly. She could almost
picture him smile at her unbridled response.