Spun (10 page)

“You want more?” he asked. “You want my cock inside you?”

“Yes!” she panted. “My God … yes … please…”

He slid in a fraction more.

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded.

“I want … I want your cock inside me. Please…”

He continued to tease her, though his thrusts grew more urgent, until he finally drove into her fully. Anja gasped at the pleasure as he pushed against her, his cock buried into her to the root. A second orgasm began to peak within her, but just as she thought it was about to release, Tillz pulled out of her again. He repeated the process, giving her quick, shallow thrusts and then his whole cock. Each time, the pleasure within her became more intense than the last, until the rest of her body seemed to melt away. All she was aware of was his cock as it filled her, pounded into her, driving her to madness. They came together, Anja pushed back, and Tillz drove into her as deep as he was able, pumping against her. Anja groaned, Tillz growled, as wave after wave washed over them.

Tillz was still inside her, didn’t slip his cock out until the last tremors subsided.

“My God, I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting you,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice. He collapsed on his side, pulling her back up against him. “You fit me so perfectly.” He stroked her back and arms, his breathing eventually became even and steady again.

They lay together for untold minutes, drowsy, exhausted. They were silent, entwined. Anja focused on nothing but the way their bodies fit together, the way their scents and breath and warmth mingled together as if they were one being.

Seconds, minutes, hours ticked by. Slowly, the world righted itself, the haze of their lovemaking dissolved, and Anja became aware of the room around her again. The furniture in the room took shape, the fire seemed to have started itself, as she finally became aware of its crackling and hissing logs.

“I saw your father today,” Tillz said, breaking the silence.

Anja closed her eyes, ashamed that she had forgotten about her father as soon as Tillz had entered the cottage. She couldn’t help it. When he was near, the entire world melted away.

“How is he?” she asked. “Did he seem well?”

“He has been desperately seeking a way to rescue you. He was even planning to confront Werner himself.”

Anja gasped. “He mustn’t do that!” She turned to face Tillz.

“I stopped him,” Tillz said, kissing her. “And I told him that I was keeping an eye on you, that I would keep you safe. You know that, don’t you?” Tillz cupped her face, looked at her intently. “I won’t let harm come to you.”

Anja nodded. “I know,” she said.

They lapsed back into silence.

Anja desperately wanted to ask Tillz what was going to happen once she was released, whether she would ever see him again, but she was afraid. She was afraid he would tell her it was impossible, that these few stolen nights together would be all they could have. She wouldn’t be able to bear that.

“What has you so pensive,
schatzchen
?” Tillz ran his thumb along Anja’s face, tracing the outline of her cheek and chin.

Anja said nothing for a moment, trying to decide how open she should be with Tillz. “I’ve been wondering what will happen tomorrow with…” she paused, bit her lip, “Werner.” Anja cursed herself for cowardice. “He thinks I can make gold; will he truly let me leave?”

Tillz tightened his hold on Anja. “He will let you go,” Tillz said, “or I will take you out of here myself.”

“But what is to prevent him from coming after me again?”

“He will not bother you again,” Tillz said firmly, sounding utterly certain of Werner’s future behavior.

“But how can you know? How can—”

“He will not bother you again,” Tillz repeated. Every part of his body seemed to clench, from his jaw to the hard planes of muscle in his arms to his heavy thighs.

Anja nestled against him. She no longer wished to think of Werner or her father, or of the entangled mess they were all in. She wanted Tillz to be right, wanted to believe that her worries would all disappear with the light of the morning. She even let herself think, for the moment, this would not be the last she saw of Tillz. Perhaps even after she was free and her father’s debts were paid, Tillz would still come to her, and at the very least they would continue to share nights like this one.

Soon, the first gray light of dawn filtered in through the cottage’s tiny window, and Anja knew she would have to stop pretending. It was time for Tillz to leave her, to melt back into the woods he had come from. They rose slowly from the bed and dressed. Anja found she could not look at him. She didn’t want to know if his countenance bore impatience or regret—or worse, indifference. So she felt rather than saw his tenseness, his distance.

He was already pulling away from her, she could sense it. There was a coldness, an emptiness from him where once there had been fire and passion.

“Anja,” Tillz said. She turned to face him but kept her gaze on the floor. She waited for him to say something else, but he was silent. He simply put his hand to her check, brushed it lightly, then turned away. She heard the clatter of gold pieces being set on the table. Then she heard the soft thud of the door closing, and it sounded like the death knell of all her future happiness.

Chapter 6

Werner walked along the stone path that led from his manor to the little cottages out back, Roulf, as always, trailing at his heels. He walked quickly, eager to reach the cottage and see what the
madchen
had made for him today. He was almost cheerful, and if he were a lesser man, he might have even let himself slide into pure gleefulness. But he was not a lesser man, of course. He was a
great
man, and he would not waste his time on ridiculous notions like
feelings
and
emotions
.

“Are you really going to let her go, Werner?” Roulf asked from behind him.

Werner said nothing in response. He had little inclination to acknowledge the oafish man who always yapped at him like an annoying dog. He kept Roulf around only because of his talents in brute enforcement—he kept Werner from having to do many of the work himself—but Werner certainly wasn’t going to waste time actually
interacting
with him.

“I mean, seems like a waste, is all, lettin’ her go when you could jus’ keep her here. Then you could have all the gold you needed, anytime, for anything. So you won’t be lettin’ her go then, will you?”

Werner stopped in his tracks, turned, and slapped Roulf hard across the face. Werner saw the flash of fury ignite in the brute’s face, and he smirked as he watched Roulf struggle to quell it. Roulf had no problems resorting to quick violence whenever he felt wronged, but he would never entertain the notion of challenging Werner. They both knew—indeed,
everyone
knew—that Werner was the type to cut a man dead rather than suffer an annoyance from him. And unlike Roulf, he possessed more than just stupid strength and a questionable moral compass. Werner was quick and smart, and he always bested his opponent. It was why he was in charge, why he owned all the land, why Roulf and so many others worked for him. It was why the townspeople willingly gave him whatever exorbitant price he demanded of them—whether in rent or goods or services. And it was why the law—whatever pitiful, laughable law there was—never did anything to curb his reign over the village. Simply put, he ruled because there was nothing anyone could do to make it otherwise.

Satisfied that Roulf was done peppering him with useless questions, Werner turned and continued to the cottage, his mood decidedly darkened. He reached the cottage door, brought the key from his pocket and went to unlock … the already unlocked door.

A hot fury rose within him. His body clenched, his ears pounded, and his vision went red at the edges.

She had escaped. The
madchen
had fled the cottage, and Werner had lost his access to the gold she could provide him. That gold was his to have, damn it, and she had no right to flee and leave him with nothing. Now he would have to spend the time and effort to track her down, punish her, and drag her back to the cottage so she could provide him with gold.

“What’s wrong, boss, why aren’t we goin’ in?” Roulf asked.

Werner held up his hand to silence Roulf, too distracted by fury to even punch him. The girl was gone, and his gold with her … but no, Werner heard noises from inside the cottage: the scrape of a wooden chair across the stone floor and a soft feminine sigh. She was inside. Werner could still have his gold. His fury subsided ever so slightly. But why was the door unlocked? And why
hadn’t
she escaped if she so clearly had the opportunity to do so?

He meant to find out.

The first thing Werner saw when he entered the cottage was Anja pacing the floor, looking rumpled and miserable. The second thing was the gold pieces lying on the table. His anger ebbed yet more, though it didn’t completely dissipate. Yes, both the girl and the gold were still in his possession, and that was good. But he still needed an explanation for the unlocked door.

Werner was about to demand answers from Anja when he noticed something else, something that caused his fury to flash within him anew. There, resting on the table beside the fire, were two jars filled with iron and copper.

She had lied to him. She hadn’t turned the metals into gold at all. The proof of it was staring him in the face in the form of those damn jars, their very presence a mockery of his authority and power.

Werner felt out of control and murderous. He stepped toward the girl, who had ceased her pacing and was now staring at him, wide-eyed and clearly terrified. He meant to punish her, to wrap his hand around her neck until he felt the warm life of her drain through his fingertips.
Then
she would know terror. She would finally know, in the last few seconds of life, that he was not to be mocked or disobeyed. He reached for her, stepping toward her again as she backed away, licking his lips in anticipation of punishing her to assuage his fury … when he abruptly halted.

No. No, he would not kill her.

He forced himself to drop his hands, to slow his breathing to a normal pace. If he killed her now he would never know the true source of the gold. It pained him—physically pained him—to let her perfidy go unanswered, but she was of no immediate use to him dead.

“I see there is more gold,” Werner gestured to the table. He stated the obvious not out of a burning need to converse with the girl, but because he wanted to keep her relatively calm and quiet while he decided his next move. He deliberately relaxed his stance and schooled his features into a less menacing expression.

How to get the answers he needed from the girl? Torture? No, he decided quickly. That was the easy route, but unfortunately unreliable, and he would have the truth from her rather than the first thing that popped into her head in an effort to make the pain stop.

“Y-yes. It is all there on the table, everything I could make.”

Werner’s temper flared again at her lie, but he willfully tamped it down. “You are eager to leave, I suppose,” he said.

“I have given you all you asked for,” Anja said, her voice admirably steady. “And I am indeed eager to get back to my father.”

“I imagine so,” Werner said. He walked over to the table, picked up a piece of the gold, and fingered it distractedly. That was it then. He would let her think her duty to him was over. He would let her leave so he could watch her. He would see where she went and with whom she spoke and then he would discover the actual source of the gold.

“Yes,” Werner continued, “I am sure you miss your father, and he you. You should go to him.”

Anja stared at him for a moment, reluctant hope dancing on her face. “Truly? You will let me leave?”

Werner feigned surprise. “Of course I will let you leave. You’ve held up your end of the bargain, now I will hold up mine.”

“But, boss,” Roulf wheedled from the doorway, “you can’t just let her go. What about all the gold?”

Werner turned his gaze to Roulf, letting his dark expression convey the depth of his displeasure. Again. Roulf, to his credit, needed only the briefest glance at Werner’s face to realize he needed to stop talking.

“Roulf,” Werner said, “drive the girl down to the village. Make sure she reaches her father’s cottage unmolested and unharmed. Can you manage that?”

Roulf nodded.

“Good,” Werner said. He gestured to the door. Anja looked at him for a moment. He saw flashes of hopefulness and distrust play cross her face, and he knew the two emotions warred within her. Werner curled the edges of his lips in an approximation of a smile, trying to disarm the girl.

Anja scurried past Roulf and out the door as if she was worried Werner would change his mind if she didn’t leave fast enough. Roulf moved to follow her, but Werner stopped him with a hand laid on his arm.

“I meant what I said, Roulf,” Werner said quickly, his voice too low for Anja to overhear. “Bring her to her father’s unharmed, but watch her after she’s there. Don’t let her see you. I want to know where she goes, who she talks to, who visits her. Everything.”

Roulf nodded again.

Werner turned from Roulf, done with him, and looked at the gold pieces still on the table. He scooped them up and placed them in his pocket. He would find where they came from, and when he had secured the real source of the gold, then he would turn his attention back to the girl. Then, when she was of no more use to him, would he allow himself the pleasure of punishing her for her lies and treachery.

Werner smiled—a full, genuine smile—at the thought.

* * * *

Anja didn’t dare to breathe. She was hunched in the corner of the carriage, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to look at Roulf. She feared doing anything that would catch his attention and cause him to change his mind about delivering her safely to her father. And she was desperate to see her father again. Strangely, when she had been locked in the cottage, she hadn’t been as scared for herself or her father as she was now. She grimaced as she realized it was because of Tillz. She had felt so safe with him, it hadn’t seemed necessary to worry. She had been so focused on him, on his visits, on his body, on his—Anja broke off her train of thought. She would
not
think about him now, she just wouldn’t. Any thought of Tillz caused such a painful sense of longing, she was sure it would kill her.