The Calling (3 page)

She smashed into him, and they both crashed to the floor. The warlock landed on top of her, and the breath left her lungs in a
whoosh
.

She sprawled, dazed beneath the long, hard body. He swore softly and then shifted on her so he lay against the cradle of her hips. At the feel of his hardening shaft pushing at her belly, she fought again.

His strength was almost inhuman, but she managed to get her hands between them and shoved at him with all her might. It wasn’t enough, and he didn’t budge, just pressed her further into the soft carpet.

“Stop it,” he ground out, his voice low. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She twisted and turned, and he grabbed her shoulders in his big hands, leaned in close, and whispered against her ear, “Behave. We may be being watched.”

His words filtered through her brain, and she went still beneath him. Her gaze flickered around the room almost as though she expected someone watching them, but they were alone. And why would he care if they were being watched? She forced her body to lie still as his warm breath feathered across her throat.

“Your daughter is in danger. I can help you save her.”

“Our daughter.” The words left her lips before she thought to stop them.

He leaned away from her, and shock flared across his face. “You knew?”

“No, but she has your eyes.”

An expression of wonder flashed across his features but was quickly blanked out. He kept his voice low. “We need to talk, but it must look as if you are cooperating.” She shook her head; she had no intention of cooperating. “Shayla is safe. She got away.”

“The Enforcer has gone after her. She’ll be dead within the day.” Dread held her still for a moment. Her mind worked furiously.

Could the Enforcer find Shayla? He had a reputation for being ruth-less and always catching his prey, and she couldn’t risk ignoring this warning. She looked into those green eyes so like Shayla’s and gave a brief nod.

The warlock’s grip loosened, tentative at first as though suspicious of her compliance. Rising to his feet, he backed away and stood facing her, his legs braced.

“Kneel.”

She scrambled to her feet then dropped to her knees in front of him. She had sworn she would never do this again, but for Shayla she would do anything. And it hardly hurt—not physically anyway.

In front of her, the long line of his erection pressed against the dark material of his pants, and she reached out a hand and touched him.He jerked back. “No,” he muttered, his tone harsh. “There’s no need, just listen.”

She glanced up the line of his body. “If they are watching...” She reached for him again, and this time he didn’t move away.

This part meant nothing to her—it never had—it was the act of kneeling she hated so much. The sign of subservience to the Order that made her whole being scream in denial. She flicked open the fastening of his pants, and his shaft sprang free. He was already huge and hard, and she knew from remembered experience that he would be done in minutes.

“So talk,” she said and leaned forward. The musky, almost-forgotten smell filled her nostrils as she took him in her mouth.

His head went back, and a low groan escaped his throat. His shaft pulsed against her lips.

For the first time, she recognized the power that this act could have over a man. Always before she had blanked her mind to what she was doing, performing her task as she would have performed any chore. Now she studied his reactions, how he shuddered beneath the stroke of her tongue. The tensing of his muscles as she suckled the swollen head. He tasted salty but clean. She sucked harder, his hand came up to cup the back of her head, and she paused. It was not per-mitted for the warlocks to touch the pleasure slaves, but he threaded his fingers through her long hair and urged her on.

Jarrod’s whole body hovered on the edge of violent explosion. It had been so long. More than twenty years. The pleasure tugged at his balls, rippling up his spine. He tried to make his brain function, but he was unable to think beyond the promise of relief.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He would never have forced her, and he had seen loathing flash in her eyes when he had ordered her to kneel.

The depth of her hatred had shocked him. He didn’t know why.

Glancing down at her, a shudder ran through his body—her soft pink mouth wrapped around his engorged cock was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. Sensations flooded him, heating his blood, and he let the desire build, reveling in the slide of her hot, wet mouth, the stroke of her velvet soft tongue.

Her mouth worked on the tip, sucking hard. One slender hand gripped his shaft, while the other cupped his balls. She squeezed, and he exploded, pumping into her mouth, unable to pull away, his eyes shut tight.

Finally, he was empty, and the last tremors shivered through his body. Her lips left him, and she made to back away, but his hand was still burrowed in the soft silkiness of her hair. He didn’t want to release her; he wanted to lie down, drag her into his arms, and sleep with her beside him. To forget the guilt, the loss, and be at peace for a brief time. Reluctantly, he released her.

Forcing his heavy lids open, he found her peering up at him, her dark blue eyes filled with contempt. She sat back on her heels and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Talk,” she said.

He shook his head, trying to clear the remnants of desire from his fogged mind, then tucked himself back in and fastened his pants to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts.

Jarrod wasn’t sure whether they were being watched. It was quite possible, but he was almost certain they couldn’t be overheard. “Tallon—the Enforcer—left almost immediately after dropping you off.

He believes he knows where your daughter is headed.” A frown flickered across her face. “How?” He shrugged. “Tallon has a network of spies. He’s heard that she’s heading this way. If he says he’ll find her, then he’ll find her.”

“Will she be brought back here?”

The fear was clear in her voice. Jarrod didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to be harsh if he was going to gain her cooperation. “He has orders to kill her.”

She bit down on her lower lip, and her hands clenched at her sides. “Why?”

“Though shalt not suffer a witch to live.” He quoted the first Law of Segregation and watched for a reaction.

For a brief moment, anger flashed in her dark eyes. Then she gritted her teeth, no doubt to prevent the furious reply spilling from her lips. Good, she was ready to be sensible. Anger would not help them here. He needed her to keep a calm head if they were to escape the Keep and find their daughter before Tallon reached her.

“Will you help me?” she asked.

The tension drained from his muscles. He’d succeeded; she was willing to work with him. He kept his elation from showing and nodded.“How?”

“Our only hope is to reach her before Tallon. We need to get away and quickly. They will take you back to the dungeon—I will come for you when I have made the arrangements.” She pushed herself gracefully to her feet. The long lines of her body were visible through the diaphanous shift, which was all she wore. His gaze lingered on her full breasts, almost too heavy for her slender frame, the pale pink nipples jutting against the thin silk. Her belly was flat with the dark golden curls at the base and shadows between her slim thighs. He remembered how it had felt to lie between them, to embed himself deeply in her warm, wet tightness, to pump his seed into her body and make a new life. His cock stirred at the memory, and he shifted to ease the pressure.

Freya watched him through knowing eyes, standing tall and proud. There was no subservience left in her; she was strong like the witches of old, even without her magic.

He had lived long enough to remember the witches from before the Laws of Segregation. They had been magnificent creatures. As a young man, he’d been filled with awe just to be in their presence, to feel the pulse of their magic as though it were a living thing, a part of the land itself. That was before the Order had decreed the only way to keep Arroway safe from the destructive moon magic was to take it from the witches at birth, reducing them to mere shells—empty of all that they could be, slaves to the Order. Malachi said they were content to serve.

The warlocks of the Order all took a vow of celibacy, as any child they fathered had the potential to be a witch or a warlock, and they couldn’t take the risk of producing more witches who would drain the world of its last power. The only sexual release allowed to them was in the mouths of the pleasure slaves.

Jarrod hadn’t spent much time around the Keep, barely noticing the pleasure slaves on his brief visits for information. Until one time he had caught sight of a particular slave, and his whole existence had changed in an instant.

She’d been eighteen and the most beautiful, compelling being he had ever seen. She had twisted something inside him, changed him irrevocably. He’d wanted to deny it, and not because of the Laws of Segregation, but because he had seen firsthand the destruction such emotion could render.

Mine.

The word had been torn from somewhere deep within him, oblit-erating all else, filling him with wonder and terror.

He’d tried to keep away, but the thought of her kneeling before anyone but him had driven him into a frenzy. In the end, he had done what he had vowed never to do: make a deal with the Order. They wanted a warlock of his line for their breeding program—one they could manipulate as they’d never been able to manipulate him.

So he’d made a bargain—his seed in exchange for Freya.

When she’d knelt before him the first time, he’d wanted to tell her she didn’t have to pleasure him. She’d given him no chance to speak, performing her duties like an automaton, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself taking the relief she offered. Afterward, he had hated himself. He’d wanted so much more—needed more. He still did, but he feared he would never break through the hatred she felt for his kind. There must be some way to melt the ice she had built around her heart.

“Know this, warlock—that was the last time I will ever kneel before you.”

The words broke through his reverie. Her eyes were cold, and he dropped his gaze to the dark shadows between her thighs, then raised it to stare back into her face.

“Then perhaps next time, I will kneel before you.” 19

Freya was back in the dungeon. They hadn’t constrained her in any way, and she paced the confines of the small room unable to settle, her mind buzzing with questions.

Why was the warlock helping her? Could she trust him?

He was Shayla’s father, but what difference did that really make?

She had no doubt he had fathered other babies. Only the oldest, most powerful warlocks were allowed to breed, and Jarrod was obviously very old. What she didn’t understand was why she’d been chosen from among all the pleasure slaves? Was it pure chance, or had he picked her from the rest to bear his child?

Did it matter what his reasons were? He had freed her once before. She wasn’t about to deny him the chance to do it again. And once out of the Keep, she could leave him behind as she had done the last time.Her mind went back to the taste of him, the feel of him shudder-ing against her. Maybe that’s why he was helping her. He desired her.

The concept was alien to her. While Freya was sure all men weren’t bad, she had yet to meet a good one, and never one she wanted.

His words echoed in her head. Would he really kneel before her?

Would he taste her with his mouth and his tongue? Would she want him to? A warm wave of heat ran through her body, settling at her core. The sensation was new and unwelcome, and she halted in the middle of the cell, unable to believe the direction her thoughts had taken her.

She threw herself down on the stone floor and sat back against the rough wall, waiting for something to happen, searching her memories for a way to find Shayla.

After escaping the Keep twenty-two years ago, she’d headed deep into the forest and there alone, had given birth to her daughter. The experience changed her forever. Before Shayla, her existence was without reason, merely going through the motions of a life that was empty of meaning, believing that the only part of her with any worth had been stolen from her by the Order. But from the moment she held Shayla in her arms, she had a purpose—to keep her daughter safe.

At first, it was simple. They traveled far from the Keep, through the forest, to the great range of mountains that bordered the known lands. And still, she kept moving, following the foothills, always heading away from the influence of the Order, until she and her daughter came to a place where witches and warlocks were a mere legend, something to tell stories about over the evening meal, and for a while they settled.

But when Shayla reached puberty, the magic awoke within her and grew to a tangible thing, with a life of its own. Freya realized they needed to find someone who could help control the wildness inside her daughter. There had to be other witches somewhere who’d survived the Order’s purge. Freya started to search, surreptitiously, for any information she could find. She heard many rumors, but they all led her back toward the Order, and slowly they drifted closer and closer to the Keep.

Even then, it had been relatively easy to hide and blend in. They traveled with the Outlaw Guild who had contacts everywhere and no love of the Order, and in each of the villages they hunted for information, staying a few weeks, a month, until they would hear another rumor and move on.

Then a year ago, the moon mark had appeared on Shayla’s cheek, and it had become almost impossible to hide, and each day the magic grew stronger. She would dream and the sky would fill with crimson lightning.

Freya lived in fear then. Her daughter wasn’t evil—wherever Shayla traveled the dying land blossomed—but the ordinary people of Arroway had been indoctrinated too well. They needed someone to blame for the declining harvests, the fading land, and the Order had handed them the witches.

Finally, a man had come to them. He’d told them little, only that his family had been helping witches since the Laws of Segregation, and he knew of a place, a clearing within the forest where they could find help. They had been on their way there when the Enforcer had caught up with them.