Bee Among the Clover (199 page)

A
RON awoke with a soft groan, his skull pounding in an evil, unending wave. He could feel a soft rocking that made his stomach lurch and the sounds of water slapping against wood. Frowning, he tried to sit up and claw the blanket from his eyes, but his hands were tied securely at the small of his back.

Panic flooded him when he realized he was bound. He writhed as much as he could, trying to work the blanket off of him to at least see where he was. The throbbing in his head and the rocking didn’t help his already skewed equilibrium. After several minutes, he managed to work the blanket off of his face at least and sagged back onto the hard wooden floor, panting and trying to catch his breath.

He didn’t understand what was going on, but a scan of the room revealed a ship’s cramped cabin. Gods, what had happened? How did he get here? Where was Cate and….

His thoughts ground to a halt when the door to the tiny room opened and he recognized the man standing in the doorway, smirking at him. Aron muttered a soft curse and a silent prayer to Thunor as the battle-lord stepped into the room.

Aethlyn’s grin was dark, and Aron bit back the fear that spiked in him. “Sleep well, thrall?”
Aron could not believe what his eyes were seeing. He’d been so close. On the morrow he was supposed to meet with the magistrate and present his case to him. He couldn’t afford to miss it. It was his one chance to help his darkling. What Aethlyn was doing in Londinium, he didn’t know, nor how the battle-lord had gotten Aron onto the ship. Where was Cate? Guilt swamped him when the thought Aethlyn might have harmed her occurred to him. She had only wanted to help him, and he had brought this evil to her doorstep. It seemed he brought nothing but misery to everyone whose life he touched.
“What are you going to do?” Aron managed to ask once his tongue started working again. He couldn’t seem to summon up any fear or anger at the promise of pain in Aethlyn’s eyes. All he could concentrate on was the opportunity lost. If the battle-lord beat him half to death again, he’d be in no condition to present his case, and if he missed his appointment, they might not be inclined to grant him another one. Aron cursed under his breath, his fingers scrabbling at the knots. Somehow he had to get free before Aethlyn started on him.
Aethlyn smiled. “I’m going to take you back where you belong and claim my place again. I know how Wulfgar chooses to reward those who show him loyalty.”
Aron froze, eyes widening. Back where he belonged. Roman. He found it both odd and confusing that he was almost grateful. He couldn’t help how his heart lifted at the thought of seeing Roman again, something he had despaired would never happen. At the same time, he wanted to rage and curse the lost chance to free them both.
Aethlyn’s chuckle was nasty, clearly mistaking Aron’s shocked silence and the way he ceased to struggle as fear. “Oh, you’re right to be afraid, boy.” He shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “I admit to being curious how you managed it, but here you are, and the how of it means little because in the end, you failed. I daresay my reward for returning you to your rightful owner will be great.”
Aron glared at him, but he couldn’t summon up the anger toward the battle-lord he imagined he should have. He was going to be with his darkling again. He almost wanted to laugh. Here he’d been struggling to find a way to get to Roman and it was handed to him.
The fear came when he imagined what Wulfgar’s reaction to his return would be: fury. A sudden flash of Roman’s face crossed his mind, telling him how Wulfgar had punished him for trying to run.
“Osric was my punishment.”
His stomach lurched at the thought, but he bit it back ruthlessly. What mattered was he’d be with Roman again and they’d have time to plan, and this time the plan would be perfect. Aron would take his darkling far away, where no battle-lord would find them.
The trip back to Wulfgar’s was a nightmare as certain truths pierced through the euphoria of seeing Roman again. Aethlyn enjoyed tormenting him by telling him all the things he would do to him if Wulfgar gave him the opportunity to do so. He would have to be a fool not to be afraid of that fate. But what really kept him awake at nights and what haunted his days was the realization that Wulfgar might discover Roman helped him, and then there would be nothing Aron could do to help his darkling.
As much as the prospect of seeing Roman again thrilled him, Aron had no illusions that Wulfgar would allow them to spend time together, to see each other. Not after the way they had betrayed his trust, and that would make his vow to see Roman freed just about impossible.
It was an uncomfortable trip. Aethlyn wasn’t concerned with his well-being and kept him bound the entire journey, only undoing his bonds twice a day to get the blood flowing and to allow him to see to necessary tasks. The battle-lord hadn’t tried to touch him, but some evenings, when the lust burned hotter in the battle-lord’s eyes, Aron was afraid that the promised reward wouldn’t be enough to deter him.