Ensnared by the Dream Lord (Dark Lords) (13 page)

“Jaegar sent you, did he not?” Wolfe growled, and it was a growl.  One of which even his name-sake would have been proud! It rumbled deep from within the cavern of his chest and had she not known it and been able to see it on his face, that tone of voice instantly informed her that he was extremely angry. 

Furious. 

The man whimpered but nodded. 

“Speak!  When I ask you a question!  Speak!” Wolfe ordered gruffly and shook the man, who immediately whimpered as it jolted the battered fist that lay limply upon his chest. 

“Please,” his voice was hoarse and filled with pain.  Had he not been about to slice off her finger and all for the ring that sat upon it, she would have felt a great welter of sympathy for the man.  As it was, he was probably experiencing the same amount of pain he would have willingly bestowed upon her. 

Although she had never believed in the Biblical reference of an eye for an eye, at this moment, with her face aching and the bones in her body literally vibrating with pain, she did!  Call her harsh, but she did not care. 

“Yes, Jaegar sent me!” the intruder responded finally. 

“What for?”  Before the other man could speak, Wolfe turned to her and asked, “What did he do to you?”

“He wanted the ring and was willing to separate my finger from me to gain it!” she replied bitterly. 

“Why does Jaegar want the ring?” he demanded and in that instant, Isabeau realized how attractive he was.  In the full light of day, he was even more magnificent than she had ever suspected. 

Isabeau closed her eyes at the inappropriateness of her feelings at this current moment, but was unable to help her reaction to this strident display of supreme masculinity. 

His blacker than black hair literally glinted in the daylight and beneath the sable locks, were a myriad of other colors.  A deep red, that in certain lights, gave his hair a look of the richest mahogany.  There was a blue that reminded her, although it was an unpleasant comparison, to that of a bluebottle’s sheen. 

When she had earlier thought that his friend’s hair and her own were of the light and he of the dark, she realized that whilst it was true, there was a life of its own to Wolfe’s head of hair. 

His jaw was stubbled and he looked tired and weary.  She realized that either her theory of his disliking the day was true and that was the reason for his fatigue, or it was false and he was simply tired after riding the whole night and falling asleep in the late morning.  That made perfect sense and when she had watched him defend her and attack the intruder, he had looked in the rudest of health. 

When he looked at her, she saw the steeliness of his character in that firm jaw and his eyes were the darkest brown she had ever seen.  They were so dark that one could not even see the central circle in the orb.  But, they were almost like velvet.  Silken like the most beautiful of fabrics. 

Perhaps that was rather an overstatement, but it was her opinion.  He had beautiful, if unusual, eyes.

He had the appearance of a dark God and although it didn’t surprise her, because last night she had realized how attractive she found him, a part of her had hoped that he would look like the monster she believed him to be.

She licked her lips as the man on the floor seemed to shrink in on himself as he replied simply, “It is powerful.”

Isabeau watched as Wolfe’s shoulders suddenly tensed and he murmured, “Is that all he seeks?  The ring?”

The man was quiet until Wolfe kicked him hard and sent him sprawling backwards with a squawk of pain that had even Isabeau flinching.  “No.  No, he wants the girl as well.  If she is unspoiled.”

“I see Jaegar has developed a superiority complex.  Well, Isabeau, are you unspoiled?” he asked silkily.  Then when she remained quiet, not dignifying his question with a response, he said, “Come, come, Isabeau, let’s allow the man to leave with one part of his mission fulfilled.  Jaegar can be a mean bastard, when crossed.  We don’t want this poor man to die, do we?”

She watched as the man flinched again and knew that Wolfe spoke the truth.  That this Jaegar, whoever he was, would kill the man for his failure to obtain neither the ring or herself. 

It wasn’t enough to make her reply, she only did so when Wolfe spun around and glared at her.  Stuttering slightly, her words were nonetheless indignant, when she said, “Of course!  I am a maiden!  How dare you even question it?”

“It was not that unsuitable a question, Isabeau.  How many women in similar straits as your own, have been reduced to selling themselves simply to survive?”

She grimaced.  Isabeau had met several prostitutes along her journey and had felt nothing but pity for their plight.  Fortunately for her, the ring kept her sustained.  If she felt hunger, then a sudden weight would appear in her hand and she would find a glint of a golden guinea there.  She had thanked the Goddess for that gift many a time. 

“Yes, well, I am not of them!” she retorted exasperatedly. 

“I, for one, am glad to hear it.  And I’m sure that Jaegar will be as well.”

Wolfe prodded the man with his foot and sneered when he whimpered. 

“Tell Jaegar that if he endangers Isabeau’s life once more, the hundreds of grudges that I can lay upon his hide, will suddenly have a need to be avenged.  Tell him that I am no longer the skinny youth he knew, but a grown man.  One capable of crushing another’s fist within my own hand,” Wolfe spoke grimly before he bent down and retrieved the dagger and then turned his back on the intruder.  “Davide, come and
collect
this man and take him from my sight!”

Another man scurried into the room and part-dragged and part-helped the intruder leave the room. 

Silence reigned for a few moments, until Wolfe stomped towards her and settled himself on her bed.  He glared down at the bleeding finger and the already bruising flesh at her jaw and throat.  “I assume that you can heal this?”

She nodded and was about to glare at him when he prodded her tender jaw, then realized that he had just saved her from a great deal of pain.  “Thank you for helping me,” she murmured stiffly.

“You’re very welcome.” His own fingers came out to stroke along her bleeding one and he replied quietly, “You must value your sorcery greatly, if you are willing to risk your life for it.”

“It wasn’t a matter of risking my life for it.  It is a part of me.  I cannot explain it and I don’t see that I should have to quite frankly.  But it is rather unfair of you to simply assume that it is a superficial thing.  I cannot simply take it off and hand it to anyone.  It has been in my family for many years.  It knows
me. 
As crazy as it sounds, it’s…it is in tune with my body and my mind and has been ever since I started to wear it.”

“Heal yourself,” was all he said, well, ordered. 

Pursing her lips at him, she scowled but complied.  Allowing her dazed state of mind to relax and to flood her being with healing energy, she felt the heat start to bubble through her and soothe all the troublesome aches that the intruder had just inflicted upon her. 

The bruises at her jaw suddenly disappeared, almost as though they had been wiped away.  The blood at her finger shriveled away and returned to the cut before that too was sealed.  The mélange of injuries the man had bestowed on her were soon cured, as were the remnants of the drug with which Wolfe had poisoned her. 

Her eyes popped open and as she opened her mouth to demand to know what the hell he had been about, attempting to spike her chocolate with a sleeping draught, she suddenly jolted to a halt as his hand reached out and cupped her own.  She watched with owl-like attention as he lifted them both until their fists hovered at his mouth. 

When he separated the fingers on her hand and slid the digit upon which the ring sat into his open lips, she gasped as a flood of fiery sensations rippled through her.  Alternatively sending shudders of heat and ice cold sensations along her nerve endings.  The contrast was discomforting, but not in any way she had experienced before. 

A slight quiver wracked her small frame as his tongue slipped along the length of her flesh, around the golden metal, between the flesh that joined finger to finger…  Heat pooled in her belly and she began to feel breathless once more. 

What surprised her was the recollection that the ring wasn’t reacting to being touched.  Where it had once shot bolts of pain swimming along her nerve endings to force her to awaken and protect it and herself, when the intruder had attempted to steal it from her, now it did…nothing.  Simply behaved as though it were a regular, normal, piece of gold jewelry. 

When he pulled her finger out of his mouth, and with a slight pop, she felt almost flushed as he stared at her with heavy eyes.  Eyes that promised things that with her inexperience, she simply could not understand, but how she wished she could!

She swept her tongue along her lips and froze when he pursed his own together and blew air along the now moist skin of her finger.  Before it completely dried however, his hand came up and he began to play with the ring.  Slipping it from side to side, edging it up and down. 

Throughout his play, she said nothing.  Just watched in bemusement as he handled the ring and again, it failed to respond to his touch. 

Lulled into a sense of security, she watched as he eventually managed to slip it from her finger. 

He turned the ring around and around as he studied it minutely.  He peered at the stone, inspected the facets that allowed it to reflect light, looked at the setting in which it had been attached to the circlet of gold.  Wolfe contemplated the inside—the metal which touched her flesh; analyzed the mark of quality, which declared it an item of pure gold.

When he eventually stopped studying it and then popped it into an interior pocket of a rumpled-looking jacket.  She said nothing, until she awoke from her stupor and realized that he did not intend to return it. 

* * * *

“Wolfe!  Give me it back!” she demanded insistently and held out her hand to prompt him into action. 

When he simply stared at her and did not make a move towards returning the ring to her possession, she glared at him.  Feeling truculent, almost like a child whose parents had taken away her most favored toy, she slammed her hand down against the mattress.

“It is my ring, Wolfe.  I demand that you return it to me,” Isabeau stated coolly, her voice was smooth and free from strain, but she felt it. 

Inside, her mind ran from one to two to three to forty!

What happened if he did not return it? 

What happened if he never returned it?

What
and
why was he behaving like this?

She swallowed at the somber look he bestowed on her and softly, politely, she murmured, “Please, give me the ring back, Wolfe.”

“I see you have not entirely lost your manners then, Isabeau,” he retorted firmly and although his lips twitched as though he were amused, she felt floods of mortification as she realized he’d been baiting her.

It was a welcome reminder that this man was no friend. 

While he had saved her from that brush with the intruder, it would do her well to remember that he was her captor, not her companion.  She was not in this sleeping chamber out of choice, but because he had brought her to this manor, had led her to this room and then had locked the door so as to keep her imprisoned. 

These were not the actions of a friend.  Nor was his earlier…indiscretion in regards to the supping at her finger with his tongue!

“Wolfe, please, just return it to me.  It’s my ring, one of the only remaining possessions I have that once belonged to my mother,” she said and huffed in a deep breath, then continued, “Please.  I have to wear it.”

“Why do you have to wear it?”

She shrugged, but the gesture wasn’t smooth, it was jerky and tense. 

“My mother told me that I was the last one in our line to yield the kind of power that could control the magic in the stone.  My mama and papa had no brothers or sisters still living and I was an only child.”

“So you’re a witch?”

Isabeau glared hotly at him.  “Are you doing your level best to insult me today?”

He chuckled and she damned his very existence.  She was not a joke, for Goddess’ sake! Nor did she have to be ridiculed in such a manner by the man.  He may have abducted her, but that did not give him the right to mock her as well. 

Honestly, it was a further injustice!

When no response came to her question, she brushed it off.  It had been rhetorical anyway, and instead retorted, “No, I’m not a witch.  My mother…well, she never told me what we are.  Just that I was one of the very few remaining of…
whatever we are. 
I believe that she thought to tell me what I was would place me in danger.”

“She was correct, although it is a shame that you aren’t entirely aware of your heritage.”

“I take it that means you know what I am?”

“Of course,” he said with a mocking nod. 

Inwardly, she fumed.  Had she ever met such an exasperating character? 

Rather than ask, as he so obviously wanted her to, she murmured, “How did this Jaegar’s man enter my bed chamber?”

Her words were mock-sweet but at their heart, they were blocks of ice.  His face hardened and a nasty glimmer appeared in those almost-black eyes.  Had his ire been focused upon her, then she would have quaked in her stockings! Damn, the man had a fierce face. 

She was not sure why it appealed to her so, when it seemed always to be set in harsh and unforgiving lines.  Even moments before, when he had thought to prod fun at her, there had been laughter in his voice and a slight merry tinkle in his eye, but the rest of his face had remained the same.  Almost as though it were carved out of stone. 

If he were forged from stone, then his sculptor deserved a medal—for what a statue!

She was annoyed at him. 

Thoroughly irritated by him and the situation he had forced upon her, and yet…there was something inside of him, perhaps his soul, that called to her.  And Goddess help her, she could not resist that call. 

Her instant weakening upon the flicker of his tongue about the sensitive flesh of her finger told her that he was a temptation, from which she had no desire to abstain!