Donovan's Woman (5 page)

“Let’s go.”

* * *

Marri glanced out the window at the never-changing landscape. They had been traveling for several hours, stopping only for a meager lunch of meat and cheese. She was hungry and tired and, though she was loath to admit it, afraid of what lay ahead? What if the nuns refused to admit her? Lost in thought, she closed her eyes.

When she woke, the night was as black as the ebony caves of Brynn Tor. She glanced at Gryff, wondering why they had stopped.

“We’re spending the night here,” he explained.

Marri looked out the window. “Here?” she asked tremulously.

“You know a better place?”

She shook her head.

When he got out of the skiff, she followed him around to the back.

Opening the cabin door, he gestured for her to get inside. “I’m gonna go have a look around.”

“Do you have to?”

“’Fraid so. Lock the door.”

With a nod, she did as she was told, then looked out the window, but there was no sign of Gryff. How could he have disappeared so quickly?

Filled with nervous tension, she picked up his blood-stained shirt, wondering if she should try to mend it or just throw it away.

She was still debating when a wolf’s howl cut through the stillness of the night.

Gryff ran through the darkness, the pain of his wounds forgotten in the sheer ecstasy of embracing his wolf form and feeling himself one with the night. But no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t outrun the memory of the woman waiting for him in the skiff, couldn’t forget the worry in her eyes, the warmth and tenderness of her hands as she bathed his wounds. The scent of her hair. The almost velvety softness of her skin.

Nor could he outrun the sudden, inexplicable urge to find a life mate.

He had coupled with Serepta because he had no choice in the matter. He had performed the act of mating, nothing more. With his true mate, it would have been deeply meaningful — a joining of more than flesh, a fusion of heart and soul, of mind and spirit.

Right or wrong, impossible or not, he wanted Marri to be his woman, his life mate. He had known it from the moment he first saw her, just as he had known it was like wishing for the moon.

He paused beneath a tree. Even if she was the right woman, even if she accepted him, there was no chance for them now, not with the threat of Serepta’s wrath hanging over his head. And then there was the matter of Marri’s mysterious brother. Who was she? And why did her brother really want her dead?

With a yelp, he put all human worries from his mind and raced through the night. For the wolf, there was no past, no future. There was only now, the freedom of the night.

He lifted his head as lightning forked through the clouds, followed by the rumble of thunder and the soft patter of rain.

* * *

Marri glanced at Gryff as he pulled onto the main road, now awash in mud. Last night, she had waited up for him as long as she could, curious to know where he had gone, but sleep claimed her before he returned. So she put the question to him now. “Where did you go last night?”

He shrugged. “Just out for some fresh air.”

“In the rain?”

He shrugged again.

“I didn’t see you when I looked out the window.”

“It was dark.”

“Not that dark.”

“Maybe you need glasses.”

Marri glared at him. Glasses, indeed. He had stepped out of the craft and disappeared into the night as if he was a part of it. And why was it that every time he went outside, she heard a wolf’s howl? Was that big black wolf she had seen back at his place following them?

It was late afternoon when Gryff pulled the skiff to a stop. There was a town ahead. Thus far, he had avoided space ports, but Bosquetown was the only settlement for the next six hundred miles. They hadn’t eaten since last night. They were out of food, out of water.

“Why are we stopping?” Marri asked.

“I need a break.” He jerked his head toward the space port that shimmered in the distance. “I need a break and a drink,” he muttered, “and something to eat. How about you?”

Marri nodded, then blushed when her stomach took that moment to make a very un-ladylike rumble.

Well, shit, he couldn’t let her starve. “Bosquetown, it is,” he muttered.

Like most of the space ports this side of Brynn Tor, this one was little more than a few ramshackle buildings. He glanced at the call board beside the entrance, relieved when he didn’t find a flyer with his face on it.

Since it was too early for dinner and too late for lunch, the restaurant was empty save for one burly pilot sitting at the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand, a cigar in the other.

Gryff led the way to a table in the back. Once they were settled, he handed Marri one of the menus before picking up the second.

He had just decided on steak and eggs when a sudden uneasiness sent a warning chill down his spine. Before he could locate the cause of his unrest, he felt a sharp prick in the back of his neck, and then he felt nothing at all.

Marri screamed as Gryff collapsed onto the table. She stared at him, wondering what she would do, when two men materialized, seemingly out of nowhere. One of them wrapped his arm around her neck and held her immobile while the second man shackled Gryff’s hands behind his back. She watched in disbelief as the stranger pressed what looked like a strip of solid gold against Gryff’s neck, gasped as the metal encircled his throat, the ends meeting and somehow melding together. With the collar in place, the guard dragged Gryff out of the booth, hefted him onto his shoulder, and carried him out of the tavern.

Marri glanced around, praying for someone to help them, but no one paid any attention when the man holding her dragged her away.

Outside, her hands were bound in front of her and she was shoved into the cargo hold of a large transport. Gryff lay motionless on the floor. A thick chain had been attached to the collar around his neck, tethering him to a stout iron ring set in the metal floor of the transport.

Marri jumped as one of the men shut and locked the door. Moments later, the vehicle lurched forward.

She stared into the darkness that surrounded her. Her worst nightmare had come true. Artur had found her.

* * *

Gryff regained consciousness with a low groan. Cracking one eye open, he stared into the darkness. When he tried to sit up, he discovered that his hands were shackled behind his back.

He swore softly. He didn’t know how, but Serepta had found him. Her threat echoed in his mind, sending shivers of terror down his spine.
I will find you and flay the flesh from your bones an inch at a time
, she had vowed
. And then I will heal you and do it again.

He rolled onto his knees, his terror increasing when he felt the familiar weight of the gold collar around his neck and realized he was chained to the floor. He gathered his strength, then called upon his power, but nothing happened. The collar was working.

“Gryff, are you awake?”

Her voice seemed to come from far away. “Marri?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered. “I’m just great.”

She felt around in the dark until her hand touched his thigh. “I’m sorry I got you into this.”

“You didn’t get me into anything.”

“Of course I did. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here now.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart. If it wasn’t for me,
you
wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not the only one on the run.” Though he couldn’t see more than a vague outline, he knew she was staring at him, waiting for him to explain. “Your brother’s after you. I’ve got a witch after me.”

“A witch!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah. Remember I told you I'd been a slave? Well, Serepta was my mistress, damn her black soul to hell.”

“How do you know she’s behind this?”

“The collar around my neck. I recognize it from the last time.”

“What will she do now?”

I will find you and flay the flesh from your bones an inch at a time.

He shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about it.” Inflicting pain was Serepta’s favorite pastime and she was nothing if not inventive.

Marri sat back on her heels. She had been terrified to think that her brother’s men had found her but she had a horrible feeling that she would have been better off with Artur than with Gryff’s witch.

Lost in darkness, she had no sense of time passing. It could have been hours later, it could have been minutes, before the transport came to a stop. She huddled against Gryff, her fear growing with each beat of her heart. No matter whose hands they had fallen into, the future for both of them looked bleak at best.

The door of the transport opened with an eerie creak. A man appeared in the opening. He tossed a sack inside, dropped a container of water on the floor, and closed the door, leaving them in darkness once again.

Drawn by the scent of food, Marri crawled toward the sack, feeling her way with her hands. It took several minutes to find the water. Carrying the sack in her teeth and the water bottle in her cupped hands, she inched her way back to Gryff.

Dropping the bag, she delved inside. “Are you hungry?” She withdrew a round of cheese and several slabs of meat. “Do you think it’s safe to eat?”

Gryff snorted softly. “She didn’t hunt me down just to poison me.”

Marri offered him a slice of meat, alternately feeding him and herself until the meat and cheese were gone and the water container was empty.

A short time later, the transport lurched forward.

Marri huddled in the darkness. She tried not to think of what might await them at the end of their journey, but numerous scenarios chased themselves across her mind, none of them pleasant. A witch. The very word sent a chill down her spine. Her father had hired hunters to expel the witches from Brynn Tor, and destroyed any who refused to leave. Needless to say, the witch population had not been happy about that, which was why her father had summoned Nardik. He was a powerful wizard, the only being she knew who had power stronger than a witch’s. At her father’s command, Nardik had cast a spell to protect Brynn Tor and its inhabitants from harmful magic. She only wished Nardik was with her now, but he had left the castle shortly after her mother disappeared.

She felt a surge of alarm when the transport shuddered to a halt. Had they reached their destination?

She pressed close to Gryff as the door swung open and four hooded men climbed inside.

One of them grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the vehicle. She was surprised to see that night had fallen.

“Rest stop,” the man said, his voice little more than a growl.

She was stretching her arms and shoulders when Gryff stepped out of the transport. Two men flanked him, the third held the chain. It was then that she noticed all the men were heavily armed with blasters and stunners.

Three of the men led Gryff into a stand of timber, leaving the fourth man to keep an eye on her.

Gryff made his way into the cover of the trees, wondering if they intended to kill him. He dismissed the idea as quickly as it formed. If he was to die, he was certain that Serepta would want to be there to deliver the killing blow herself.

The three men guarding him relieved themselves. One of them freed Gryff’s hands so that he, too, could answer nature’s call. Had it not been for the collar around his neck, he would have made a break for it, but there was no way to escape as long as they held the chain.

When his hands were again shackled behind his back, they marched him to the transport. One of the guards thrust a bottle of water into Marri’s hands and then he and Marri were herded into the vehicle. When the chain was secured to the iron ring in the floor, the prisoners were left in darkness.

“It’s a long way to Serepta’s lair,” Gryff remarked. “You might as well get some sleep.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’m not tired.”

Feeling her way in the dark, Marri stretched out beside him, her head pillowed on his lap.

Moments later, she was asleep.

Gryff stared into the darkness, his thoughts as black as his surroundings as the transport sped through the night, carrying him ever closer to Serepta and the lingering, excruciating punishment she had promised him.

“Gryff?”

“I thought you were asleep?”

“I was, for a little while.” Rubbing her eyes, Marri sat up. “I’ve been wondering, how did you escape from Serepta the last time?”

How had he escaped? Gryff thought back to that time that seemed so long ago, yet it seemed like only yesterday that he had been Serepta’s pet. She had kept him close night and day, rarely letting him out of her sight. When activated, the heavy collar thwarted his ability to change shape. When he was in human form, she kept him chained at her bedside, the better to pleasure her when she was in the mood. When in his wolf form, she kept him shackled to the wall in her bedroom, or, more often, locked in a cage. In spite of her supernatural powers, she had never trusted him when he was in wolf form. And rightly so. Given the chance, he would have ripped out her heart.

But one night…ah, that one night. She had been insatiable and he had pleasured her for hours. Finally exhausted, she had shortened his tether and chained him to the wall across from her bed . But that night, ah, that blessed night she had forgotten to activate the collar. Perhaps she had not forgotten, but assumed that he would not be able to escape the blasted thing even if he shifted into the wolf, since he was a very large wolf and the collar was very tight.

But he had not shifted into his wolf form. Instead, he had shifted into a small dog — an ability of which Serepta had been unaware — and slipped out of the collar. Regaining his own form, he fled her room and made his way to the keep’s front door. A guard had tried to stop him but Gryff had shifted again.

The guard, though armed with a blaster, was no match for a large, angry wolf. Before the man could fire, Gryff launched himself at the guard and buried his fangs in his arm. The man dropped the weapon. With a feral growl, Gryff ripped out the man’s throat and got the hell out of there just as fast as he could.

Drunk on freedom, he had taken off running and never looked back.

And now, too soon, he was her prisoner again.

Marri listened without interruption as Gryff told his story. It was fascinating. Intriguing. Unbelievable. “You were the wolf,” she murmured. “You killed Dakkar and Trist.”

“Yeah.”

Marri shivered, unnerved by the thought. She was grateful for what he had done, yes, but…she had heard of shape-shifters but she had always believed they were creatures of fantasy. Now, if what Gryff said was true, they weren’t creatures of myth at all.

Trying not to be obvious about it, she eased away from him.

“Are you afraid of me now?” he asked, one brow arching upward. “Afraid I might turn into a wild animal and gobble you up?”

“No.” It sounded ridiculous, when he said it like that. But she couldn’t forget he had killed Dakkar and Trist and torn the throat out of one of Serepta’s guards.

“You’re not much of a liar, are you?”

“That’s what my brother always said.”

“We’re a fine pair,” Gryff mused. “Your brother wants you dead. Serepta wants to torture me to the point of death and then do it all over again. Doesn’t look like either one of us has much of a future.”

A sudden chill crept over Marri. “What do think the witch will do with me? She won’t send me back to Artur, will she?”

“You’d be better off if she did.”

“Better off? He wants to kill me .”

“Believe me, dead is better than what Serepta has in mind for me.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. She told me if I ever escaped, she would flay the skin from my bones an inch at a time, then heal me and do it all again.”

Marri shuddered at the image his words conjured in her mind. “She can do that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“And you escaped anyway?”

“Damn right. Whatever you do, don’t tell her who you are. Your name is Cay. We met in Bosquetown. Got it?”

Before she could answer, the transport came to a jolting stop. Moments later, the door slid open. She couldn’t really see anything other than a dark shape in the opening. A sudden flare of light illuminated a woman standing in the doorway. She held a staff in one hand, the tip of which provided the light.

Tall and regal, the woman had flawless porcelain skin, hair the color of cinnamon, and eyes as dark and cold as ebony.

Serepta.

She stepped into the transport, moving with a lithe grace. Her long black cloak flowed behind her. She paused in front of Gryff, her gaze frigid as she stared down at him.

He looked up at her, his own gaze defiant.

Then, slowly, Serepta turned her attention to Marri. “And who, pray tell, are you?”

“I’m…” She glanced at Gryff, who shook his head imperceptibly. “No one.”

“You must have a name.”

“Cay,” she said. “I’m Cay.”

Serepta lifted one brow, then summoned one of the guards. “Who is she? Why have you brought her here?”

“We don’t know who she is, but they were together so…” He shrugged. “We brought her along.”

Serepta nodded. “You did well. Take her to the dungeon and take him to my room.” She looked down at Gryff, a cruel smile playing over her lips as she bent down to rake her nails over his cheek. “Strip him of his clothes and chain him to the wall.” She glanced at the woman thoughtfully. “I’ve changed my mind. Take him to the dungeon, as well.” Curling her fingers around a lock of his hair, she jerked his head back, forcing him to look up at her. “See you soon, wolf man.”

Fear coiled deep in Gryff’s belly as he watched her exit the transport. His worst nightmare was about to come true.

* * *

Marri curled up in the cleanest corner of her cell, her arms wrapped around her middle. She couldn’t stop trembling. She was afraid, so afraid. Afraid for herself, but mostly afraid for Gryff. She could see him in the cell across the way. Serepta’s guards had stripped him down to his loincloth. They had shackled his hands high over his head so that his feet barely touched the cold stone floor. The loose end of the chain attached to his collar was secured to an iron ring in the wall. The shackles around his ankles were chained to similar rings in the floor. It made her ache just to look at him — his body stretched painfully taut, every muscle sharply defined. Though sweat dripped down his back, he shivered convulsively. It might have been from the cold; she thought it more likely a bad case of nerves. He had to be afraid of what was coming. Had she been in his place, she would have been terrified.

The dungeon was silent save for the ticking of a clock, a distant drip of water, and the ragged rasp of Gryff’s breathing.

She had never been inside a dungeon before. She knew there was one at home but her father had forbidden her to go there. She wondered if it was as cold and dreary as this one. The walls and floor were gray stone. There was no furniture in the cells for a straw tick on the floor and a smelly chamber pot in the corner. A single candle burned in a wrought iron sconce on the wall near the entrance. Its faint light did little to dispel the gloom.

A rustling in the tick drew Marri’s attention. Grimacing, she pressed against the wall. She didn’t know what lurked in the straw. She fervently hoped it wasn’t a rat.

She had to get out of here, but how? For a moment, she considered telling Serepta the truth but that seemed a foolhardy thing to do. She didn’t know what her fate would be at Serepta’s hands, but she knew what fate awaited her at home. If she was going to die, she was glad it would be at the hands of a stranger. It would be less painful, she thought, than being betrayed and murdered by her own blood kin.

“Gryff?” Just saying his name made her feel better, though she had no idea why that should be. He couldn’t help her now. No one could.

He grunted softly.

“I’m afraid.” It was a silly thing to say. He knew she was afraid. They both were, but somehow it made her feel better. There was no shame in admitting it, after all. She hadn’t been raised to be a warrior woman, but to be a wife and a mother. All her life, the ladies of the keep had looked after her. They had pampered her and spoiled her, taught her how to do needlepoint and dress her hair, how to greet guests and set a proper table. No one had thought to teach her how to defend herself from a witch.

She looked at Gryff again, wishing he could turn around so she could see his face. She longed to go to him, to put her arms around him and ease his pain, to dry the sweat that continued to drip down his neck, shoulders, and back.

She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, feeling, as he waited for Serepta. Dread coiled deep in her own belly at the mere thought of the fate that awaited him. She covered her mouth, choking back bitter bile as she realized that she would be there when it happened. She would hear the hiss of the whip, smell the blood, hear Gryff’s anguished cries.

How would she bear it?

How could he?

Marri huddled in the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible, as the door to the dungeon opened with a hair-raising shriek.

And then Serepta appeared. A long black wool cloak covered a blood-red dress. In one hand, she carried her staff; in the other, a thick black whip.

Just looking at it made Marri shudder with revulsion. It was an instrument of exquisite torture, there was no doubt of that. Hoping to escape the witch’s notice, Marri pressed deeper into the shadowy corner and closed her eyes.

At the sound of a key turning in the lock, Gryff’s whole body stiffened with dreadful anticipation.

“So,” Serepta said, her voice a hideous purr, “here we are, together again.” She glided across the rough stones to caress his broad back. “It always seems a shame to mar such perfection.”

Filled with dread at what was coming, he said nothing.

His hands curled into tight fists when he heard her shake out the whip. He knew that sound. It still haunted his dreams. She snapped it a few times, no doubt to remind him of the pain to come.

He flinched even before he felt the lash slither across his bare back. The pain never failed to surprise him. It was always worse than he remembered. His blood felt hot against the chill of his skin. He wondered if she had chosen to wear red so that his blood wouldn’t show when it splattered over her gown.

She plied the whip again and yet again. He clamped his jaws together, determined not to cry out this time.

Four. Five. Six. His back was on fire, a solid sheet of flame that burned deep without consuming him. Blood flowed from the wounds, ran over his buttocks and down the backs of his legs. He heard Marri gasp each time Serepta plied the lash.

Coiling the whip, Serepta moved to stand in front of him. “Why do you make me do this?” She ran her fingers down his chest, the long, sharp nails leaving bloody furrows in their wake.

He shuddered at her touch.

She caressed his cheek, her expression thoughtful. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

“Miss you?” He snorted softly. “Sure, I missed you, the way a hound misses its fleas.”

Eyes blazing with anger, she slapped him. “You will not speak to me like that!”

“No? What more can you do to me?”

“I can let you die.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Serepta glared at him, and then she looked past him, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Abruptly, she turned on her heel and swept out of the cell.

Eyes closed, Gryff sagged against his bonds, grateful for the reprieve, until he heard Marri cry out in pain.

Groaning with the effort, he glanced over his shoulder to see Serepta chaining Marri’s hands over her head.

“Serepta, no! Dammit, leave the girl alone.”

Shaking out the whip, Serepta plied the lash in a sweeping arc. The leather ripped through cloth and flesh.

Marri screamed as the lash bit into her back.

Coiling the whip, Serepta returned to Gryff’s cell where she kept her promise, whipping him until the flesh was flayed from his back and he hung limp in his chains, too weak to cry out. Standing there, her gown stained with his blood, she let him suffer for almost an hour before, with a murmured incantation, she healed his wounds.

Moving to stand in front of him, she cupped his chin in her hand, forcing him to look at her. “Who is the girl? What does she mean to you?”

“She’s just a stray I picked up in Bosquetown. Said her name’s Cay. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“We shall see. In the future, the girl will suffer for your disobedience and your insolence. Rest well, wolf man.”

A flick of her hand extinguished the candle, and then she was gone.

Gryff took several deep breaths. “Marri? Marri, are you all right?”

She whimpered softly in reply.

Gryff swore under his breath. He could withstand whatever Serepta threw at him. He had endured five years of torture and humiliation at her hands, had tried time and again to escape in spite of the consequences because he had nothing to lose, but now…He swore again. Now, because of Marri, Serepta had him right where she wanted him. He would do whatever she asked. If he didn’t, Marri would be the one to suffer for it.

Muttering an oath, he closed his eyes. Why was it, whenever he thought things couldn’t get any worse, they always did?