The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) (22 page)

“What is going on here?” Damien asked casting a weary glance back to Garrick.

“You don’t want me?” the woman asked.  His eyes darted back because the eyes weren’t Danielle’s but Keri’s.  The woman that sat in his lap was Keri, fully nude and he could feel himself already cradled inside her.  She moved against him, rolling her body back and forth, her head thrown back.

“Garrick,” Damien tried to call to the man next to him but his voice only came out as a croak. 

“Relax Damien,” Danielle said, her voice nearly hissing in his ear.  “Let me be her tonight,” she pleaded grinding herself against him again.

A screaming began, thrumming in his head but he could not pinpoint it.  Could it be Cyrille?  He had to focus all his thoughts to remember where his brother had gone.  He finally managed to turn his head and the vision before him made him want to scream as well.  The dark headed woman had her legs wrapped around Garrick’s back, her heels digging into it, holding him against her.  Her arms were stretched upward, her fingers turned into sharp claws that had sunk into Garrick’s chest with blood flowing around them.  It was Garrick who screamed.  A blood curdling scream as he tried to get away from the woman. 

Again Damien tried to rise but the woman on his lap held him down.  Slowly his head turned back to her and found it was Keri again.  The sensation overwhelmed him as she surrounded him, bringing him close to the edge.  The screams echoed inside his mind but he could not bring himself to stop enjoying the woman riding him. 

“How do you like that,” Danielle asked, her golden face looming inches from his.  He batted his eyes in disbelief, he was losing his mind.  He tried to rise, tried to push himself back from the table but he found he did not have the strength in his arms or legs.  “Say you like me,” the woman said trying to regain his attention.  “Say you like me.”

Damien stared at her, wanting to get away, to look away, something but his body was not moving as he struggled for it to
do so. 

“Say you like me,” the woman insisted. 

The screaming seemed to have stopped but he could not make his head turn in Garrick’s direction.  “Say you like me,”

“Release me,” Damien finally
managed to say. 

“Say you like me,” said Keri’s seductive voice from between Danielle’s pink lips.  “Say you like me.”

“Get off me,” he snarled.

The screaming next to him started again then stopped just as quickly.  “Say you like me.”

Damien tried turning his head but the woman in his lap placed her hands on either side of his face and refused to let him move it.  “Say you like me,” she insisted directly into his face.

Another scream rent the air in the hall.  “Say you like me,” Danielle ordered, her voice rising.

Damien franticly tried to shake his head but her hands were too strong or he was too weak.  “Say you like me,” she insisted her voice rising in pitch.  “Say you like me.”

Damien tried to rock to the side but her thighs tightened keeping him in his chair.  “Say you like me,” she screamed into his face.  Closing his eyes Damien used all his strength to lurch sideways.  Hands held him back.  Not the hands of a woman but the strong hands of warriors.  He opened his eyes and he was in an all too familiar place, watching the guards drag Cyrille away.  Damien fought, he struggled, forgetting this was not the place he was.  He was suddenly plunged back into his past but knew now they were intent on burning his brother.  Large fists hit him, beat him until he felt the blackness coming to surround him.

~   ~   ~   ~

Garrick raised his hands to see that there was no blood on them.  His heartbeat drummed loudly in his ears, his breath came out in short pants.  The light faded quickly from the hall, plunging it into darkness.  He could no longer see the hand in front of his face.  Despite all the battles he had experienced never had he felt the level of fear he felt now.  This was something he could not fight his way out of.  A sword would not protect his mind from what was going on around him.  Was it worth the title and the wife?  He had the strong feeling Damien cared for the girl they hunted so the task of turning her over would be another one of those right or wrong dilemmas he was not good at deciding.  Perhaps this was his time to answer for the things he had done and was yet to do.

“Sir Garrick,” the whispered voice of the dark headed girl tickled his ear.  He felt her breath but could feel nothing else of her.  Up until that moment he had thought he was alone in the hall.  Then her hand was on his leg, her lips on his neck.  He felt instant pleasure at her touch, he wanted to melt into it.  When had he ever found pleasure with a woman he had not paid for, especially a woman like this?  She was all that he could want in a woman, seductive, pretty with lush lips that sent fire shooting through him.  When she touched his manhood he gasped and threw his head back, his eyes closed tightly.  When he opened them again the room was as it sho
uld be with the light flickering against the walls.

He raised his head and met the dark eyes of the brunette.  There was none of the lust that should be there.  He fought the feeling of peace and felt himself swimming upward, out of the haze that was trying to drown him.  He fought against the girl’s hands, fought against the soft caress of her lips and tongue as they threatened to imprison him.   How she could do this he was not sure but he knew he had to fight.  He thrust her away and stood. 

“Sir Garrick,” the girl called to him pleadingly reaching for him.  “Lord Garrick.”  Her voice turned to a plea as the hall swirled around him, blurring his vision.  He blinked against the dizziness and saw his friend.  The soldiers had her down on the ground, he smelled her hut burning behind him.  Ropes held his arms down by his side.  The butcher’s daughter pleaded for him to help her, again and again she cried out his name, pleaded with the soldiers to leave her alone.  He felt the same enraged helplessness he had felt when he was ten, the day he swore he would never be helpless again. 

“Sir Garrick,” the woman purred advancing toward him.  He grabbed her and thrust her away but she bounced back like a strong cat.  He grabbed her again and thought to intimidate her into leaving him alone.  His snarl brought a gigantic smile to her face and she laughed at his scowl.  His frown deepened as his anger rose at her blatant disrespect for her own position.  She should be shaking in fear that he would rip her heart out.

His hand slid to the sword that was always at his side but he felt only his hip and leg, there was no sword.  Why hadn’t he noticed the missing weight?  “What is wrong Lord Garrick?” the woman asked her voice husky.  The palms of her hands flattened on his chest and she stepped up against him, her heat radiated to him.  He brought his hands up to deflect her but they came to rest on the curves of her hips.  He was surprised at the curves under his hands, her smallness was misleading, and she was amply endowed.  He tried to push her away again but she had snaked her hands around his neck and wouldn’t let him go.  She had a freakish amount of strength as she held on.  He raised his hands to her neck intent on pushing her away but his hands wrapped around her instead. 

The room spun again and he held on tight as she gasped and clawed at his hands.  Faces moved across his vision, memories of other women, each as fleeting and insignificant now as they had been in his past.  “What pleases you,” the brunette asked.  “Who pleases you?”

“Wh-What?” Garrick stammered.

His hesitation allowed an opening for the girl to move closer and she stood on tiptoe, her hands gripping the front of his tunic.

“Sir Damien wants the Lady Keri and Sir Cyrille wants anyone,” the woman said with a shrug.  “But I can see no pleasure in you.  I see no peace.”

Garrick grabbed her and pushed her away, she staggered backward, landing on her rear.  “Because there is none,” he declared moving away from her.  He heard the rush coming from behind him but he could not turn fast enough to defend himself from the blow that took him off his feet. 

~   ~   ~   ~

Damien’s eyes snapped open.  He felt a mattress beneath him, his head pounded when he tried to move.  He tried to lift his hand but it would not move.  He twisted his arm, moved it slightly back and forth testing if it was because he was tied.  He felt no bonds but why couldn’t he move.  He turned his head and his breath caught in his throat.

Keri sat facing the hearth, the robe dipped on her shoulders revealing the gentle curve of her back.  Her head was tilted to the side as she brushed her wet hair.  He watched her for a moment, unsure how she had found him but he felt the peace washing over him.  She turned her head and her brilliant smile brought joy to him as they watched each other. 

Damien was confused how he had gotten here, what had happened to his brother and Garrick but all that mattered was that he was here now and Keri was with him.  She rose from her seat and came toward him, the robe dropping to the floor when she was halfway to the bed.  She came down on top of him and his arms immediately enveloped her.  She didn’t feel right.  This wasn’t Keri for she did not fit perfectly in his arms as she should.  He opened his eyes to see the blond smiling down at him.  He tried to jump from the bed but found he could not leave it.  “You know you can’t have her,” Danielle replied. 

He stared at her as she moved over him.  “Can’t have who?” Damien asked.

“The Lady Keri.”

“What do you know about it?” Damien asked with a great deal of anger he hoped would propel him from the mattress but he still could not move.

“You men think we are here to serve you.  You should serve us, you should worship us.  But all you men see are titles and money.  We can be thrown away as easily as a ham bone.”

“Where is Keri?”

The girl smiled, standing over him.  “She’s safe here.”

“I want her,” he demanded shoving at her but he could not get her away from him. 

“You’ll never find her.”

“I will and I’ll level this place when I do,” he threatened.

“Shhh,” she soothed. 

“You will all pay for this game you play.”

“Shhh.”  He felt as if he was falling.  Down, down into the mattress his arms and legs felt disjointed.  He tried to shake his head in an effort to deny the sensation as the darkness began to take over.

~   ~   ~   ~

Cyrille allowed himself to be led into the main keep, along corridors, up and down stairs.  He found himself frightened that he was hopelessly lost but Sylva’s presence, her smell, her very essence mesmerized him.  Into darkness, into the dungeon.  He felt the keen presence of fear budding within him but it was not strong enough to battle his euphoria. 

“Don’t worry,” she coaxed as she led him into the depths of the dungeon.  The smell of the hole made sweat pop out on the top of his lip but he could no more stop himself than he could take away the memories of his past.  Darkness surrounded him.   The smell of smoke and burning flesh came to him.  Ahead he saw the flames and it was Sylva’s voice that screamed in agony as the fire began to devour her.  His grip tightened on her hand, unsure what was happening because the woman stood beside him. 

Pain suddenly licked up his feet, further up his legs and he choked on the smell of his own flesh burning.  He bit down on his lip to keep from screaming then just as suddenly it was gone and he was in an elegantly equipped chamber with the redhead lying before him, her legs bent her thighs open to him.  His hands rested on her knees and he found himself staring down at her in horror.  It took a moment for his mind to take hold of the fact the woman was lying in front of him and he wasn’t burning.  He saw quickly the scars on the woman’s arms were not the only ones on her body.  Her scars nearly matched his, she too had been burned.

“You were burned?” he asked her ever so quietly as he tried to clear his mind from the fog.

“Yes.”

“Why were you burned?” he asked knowing he should be doing more than talking to this beautiful woman spread out before him.  Yet, not even his desire could get him to forget what his mind was telling him.  Something was not right about this place.

Sylva laughed, her green eyes appeared to be a feline’s as they slanted upward at the corners as she looked at him with a predatory smile.  “Because I’m a witch,” she said on a sigh as her arms rose from behind her head, fanning her luscious locks of red hair out on the bed behind her.

He had not noticed the scar around her pale neck until her hair did not cover it.  She reached a hand up, her body coming closer until she wrapped her arm securely around his neck, locking herself to him.  “Now you know what I am,” she whispered in his ear.  “Do not turn me away.”  That was the last thing he wanted to do he realized as he entered her.  His surroundings became hazed in his peripheral vision as he enjoyed the feel of such an exquisite woman wrapped around him.  Moaning her delight at each of his thrusts.  The orgasm was jolting as he gave one final thrust to the delight of a scream from her as he held on for the draining ecstasy.  The scream came again and he realized it came from him as the ecstasy was turned to agony as the flames devoured him.

“Cyrille,” the name sounded like a chant from Sylva’s lips, her arms and legs wrapped around him brought him back from the fire.  He stared down at her feeling as if he might vomit as panic began to build inside him.  “Shhh Darling’,” she cooed in his ear.  “I know how it feels.  They burned me too, they’ve hung me, and they’ve drowned me.”