Fervor (The Fervor Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

Shredding the manacles around his ankles, he reveled in the energy flowing through him, but he couldn’t stand the loss of sight. A vulnerability in the face of so much power. Bracing for the onslaught of the guards who pounded through the dungeon, he knelt low, using all his other senses.

His abilities were instinctual. Even without his sight, he started to differentiate the sounds, the scraping of metal against scabbards and the pounding of feet. He sensed twenty guards. He could smell the pungent odor of sweat and fear.

Let them fear.
They would pay, pay for trapping him in this hellhole and for scaring off his mate.

The door slammed inward and the invading army of guards descended. Shocked that he only felt the pounding of skin against skin, rather than steel, he realized they must want to keep him alive.

Mistake. Nothing will keep me from her.

When the crush of bodies slammed him against the wall, almost bringing him to his knees, he gathered the power in his body, straining with all his might to concentrate the flow of energy into his hands. The knowledge was there, but just out of his reach.

Where the hell was his princess? If they hurt her during her escape, he’d kill them. The current inside him jacked up. Raising his hands in the air, he released jagged lightning that knocked him to his knees.

The bodies were gone. There was no pressure; he was free. His eyesight flickered on, then off, then on again.

I can see.

But at what price? His strength was gone. Chest heaving, he looked down at his body and saw red. Rivers of blood coated his skin. He swiped a finger against his stomach, but bronze flesh lay underneath.

The blood was not his own.

He caught a glimpse of severed arms and legs, crimson splattered from floor to ceiling. He had decimated the guards, incinerated them by the look of it. What strange new power did he wield? The
fervor
had created a weapon… but he was Fiera. Born and bred for strength. For power anchored in muscle and bone. This electricity, this
current
running under his skin reminded him of the dry lightning that slammed his palace walls during the long summer nights. It bore no resemblance to the legacy of his people.

Looking up, he saw a hallway. Somewhere down that path lay his princess, the key to his mystery. And seeing as how he had a kingdom to save, he didn’t have time to stick around and have a little chat with her. In an instant, he decided she would be coming home with him. And as soon as he had his fill, he’d force her to tell him why she’d run away.

Gods, I don’t even know her name.

Pushing against the wall, he staggered to his feet. Placing one foot in front of the other, he concentrated on remaining standing. He kicked an arm out of his way and heard a crunch as he stepped on a few scattered fingers. No moans or sighs, the silence held the finality of death.

Ascending the stairwell, he didn’t encounter one guard. They had sent everyone they had. He neared a large doorway. Standing in shadow, he saw the large courtyard where they had chained and put him on display like an animal up for auction. Disgusting. His people had abolished slavery centuries before. And to think he considered moving his kingdom here!

The near freezing temperature started to bite. The release of energy had super heated his skin for a short time, but now that was over. The cold crawled over his skin, flowing inside him until he was chilled to the bone. His breath came out in tufts of white as he struggled for every wheezed gasp of air.

Not just bruised, anymore. Now the ribs are definitely broken.

The rise and fall of voices floated toward him. He remained hidden in shadow. A lilting soprano rose above the din, and his heart started to pound. The princess. His body knew before his mind. A low rumble vibrated in his throat. Gods forbid someone laid a hand on her before he did.

Nearing, he saw the princess, as royal and straight-backed as he first remembered. He closed his eyes at the memory of ecstasy he’d felt at her hands. Across from her stood a man of royal carriage and dress. He wore neck to toe diamonds, and met the princess in the eye. Hovering behind the king was a dark-haired beauty with a red silk scarf wrapped around her neck. His brothers would love her.

The woman stared daggers at the princess. His interest in her focused, his brothers forgotten while he ascertained whether she was a real threat to his mate. As she shifted position, he realized a servant with chestnut hair and large eyes sat in the corner, softly weeping.

The four were alone, off to the side of the massive courtyard. The princess looked tense. No outward signs except a small tightening of her shoulders gave her away. As she spoke, she took the tiniest steps toward the crying woman on the floor as if to block her from the man’s view. Still too far away, he searched and found where he needed to be, using every ounce of energy to glide to the hiding spot and not draw attention.

“…will
discuss this now.” The regal man stated matter-of-factly.

Arun drank in her beauty; a soft breeze carried her scent and it made his chest hum. The princess was intoxicating. The
fervor
began to ignite, flowing through his veins, giving him the energy he so desperately needed.

“Her position is now elevated,” the man continued. “She is to be Predominant of the Drudge. Were you made aware of this change?” The man stood stock still, not an expression flicking across his face.

“Yes.” The princess was equally stoic. He wondered at how this ice maiden had melted in his arms only a few moments before.

“Then you are aware she has authority over all servants, and she must be allowed to administer any punishment she sees fit.”

The woman sitting on the floor covered her hands with her face, her shoulders rocking with the force of her sobs, but not a sound escaped.

“I am well aware of her authority, but is she aware of mine, Highness?”

So this was His Royal Ice Highness? The very one he planned to kill for making his mate suffer.

“How so?”

“She takes liberties that far outreach her station.” The princess cut a look at the woman with the red scarf.

“Such as?” The aristocrat looked as if he could be discussing the weather, not one emotion crossing his white face.

“She came into my personal quarters unannounced.”

“That is no offense. She was sent to check on your progress”

“It was when I was preparing for The Binding. It is a sacred time.” The princess took one step closer to the servant on the floor, blocking her, never taking her eyes from the king.

The king stilled and motioned forward with the flick of his hand. The woman with the red scarf stepped up, but still wasn’t by his side.

“I was told I must have full attention placed on the preparations.”

“She said the servant stroked you. Is this true?”

“Your Highness, she misunderstood. She applied the salve necessary to ground me in the ritual. It was a vital step in the process.” She never blinked, just kept her features blank, but Arun could see her shoulders tighten further. Could she be as aware of him as he was of her?

“You did not mention this.” His voice cut toward the beauty.

“She then removed my drudge. Addy is
mine.
The Predominant ruined the ceremony; it may need to be postponed…” The princess sighed, allowing the smallest touch of regret in her voice.

Nine hells,
yes!
She
would
be postponing that ceremony—permanently.
She is mine.

The king stepped forward, and Arun’s blood boiled.
If he lays one hand on her—

His eyesight blinked out for a second, then returned.
Damn it!
He had to learn to control this power. It sucked him dry, making him stronger in some ways but much weaker in others.

How can I save her if I can’t see?

“No! No, my Daughter. There will be no postponement. The ceremony must continue, especially after the initial delay. I will deal with
you
later,” he said to the beauty with the red scarf and turned to leave.

“My Lord, please. That’s not true. It had nothing to do with the ceremony. She was…” The woman half crouched, begging the king to acknowledge her. Arun saw not one flicker of sympathy on her father’s face.

Cutting her off with a wave of her hand, the princess said, “Do you question me?
She
is a fit Predominant, Majesty?”

An odd tension existed between father and daughter. Both were stoic, but this was something more, a live wire of a power struggle was unfolding before his eyes, and it all seemed to center on the woman with the red scarf.

“Perhaps she should be punished.” His mate reached out, fingering the silky material of the red scar. The look in the princess’s eyes was green fire. Finally, he saw a spark of the woman who’d worshiped him with her hands. Had she looked like that when she’d fondled him? Barely able to stifle a moan, he felt the power ratchet up.

“While you punish her, Father, please explain to her that Addy is mine. And if she touches her,
ever
, for whatever reason, I will kill her.” With the last words she looked her father dead in the face. She turned and then called out. “I go now to prepare, again, for the ceremony.” Walking toward Addy without waiting to be dismissed.

She has fire!
His erection jumped in his pants.

A great booming trumpet blasted across the courtyard. The guards. Guess he hadn’t incinerated all of them. Clenching his fists, he watched the princess cross the room, trying to protect the crying servant while the king ran for his life, leaving everyone, including his own daughter, far behind.

Coward
!

About a dozen guards stumbled in, they must have been the least injured of the first group he’d pulverized. Weighing the position of the princess and the guards, he realized there was no way to grab her without exposing himself.

He bellowed out a war cry, and the group of guards stopped in their tracks. The concrete jarred his frozen feet, making his teeth chatter as he flew across the courtyard. He swooped toward the princess with one hand, pulling her in close, and his heart broke at her small cry. He knew he’d hurt her, remembering the shards of glass buried in her skin, but there was no way around it.

Barbarians. These people deserve to die.

“No! I helped you! Don’t—”

He shot her a look filled with all the banked fire he felt for her as he ran for the door. “We have unfinished business.”

“Let me go.
Let me go!”

“No.”

“I will never forgive you for this! I—”

Muttering to himself as he shifted her weight, he said, “Yeah, well, get in line.”

“No, wait.
Addy.”

“Princess Caprice! Oh gods, please don’t hurt her!” The small servant called from the corner.

Arun felt the wooden bindings under her clothing; it must have been cutting into her ribs because she gasped for breath. “Just let me… Must tell… I must…”

“Make it quick, sweetheart. You’ve got about two seconds before we hit the door out of this hellhole.”

“Addy! Run!” Her voice wasn’t more than a whispered wheeze. “Stay away from the Pre-Dom and the king. Please…be safe.” With one last gasp she went limp, fainting from her constricted airway, or maybe the pain. Her last thought had been for her servant, someone she had just called her property, but maybe she truly cared for the girl. His Princess—Caprice, he corrected himself—might have a heart under all that ice after all.

With a curse, he doubled back. He knew the servant hadn’t heard a damn word. Startling the stampeding guards, he wove his way through tapestries and temporary chairs that had been placed in the courtyard, no doubt for the slave auction. “Addy!” he yelled, startling the young woman.

The servant reached forward as if he planned to place the princess in her arms.

“Run.”
He whizzed past, spying a new exit in the far corner of the courtyard.

“No, I can’t—”

“Her last words: stay away from the Pre-Dom and the king. Now do it!”

She cried out but finally took his advice, disappearing from sight as he rounded the corner. He went straight through an open door. He remembered this hallway. It was the same one they brought him through after they’d captured him.

Cradling the princess in his arms, he tried to lesson the impact of his mad dash through the corridor, her body jerking with each pounding step. Almost thankful she’d fainted, he risked a quick glance down. A fissure of fear broke through his heart. What if it was more than fainting? What if she was really hurt? With just that tiny thought, the energy slammed back, swirling through his body, constantly trying to escape the confines of muscle and skin. It wanted out, and somehow the strange power was connected to Caprice.

Breaking through a back door, he slammed against a solid wall of cold. He tried to ignore the subzero temperatures, but the cold seeped under his skin, frosting his bones, making his blood feel as if it congealed, and slowed down his heart. One foot in front of the other, using pure will to make it through the arctic blast, he spotted a row of small sleds that were lined up next to larger carriages equipped with runners rather than wheels. In a split second, he chose the medium sled, offering up silent thanks to the gods for rigging the transportation with six dogs already at attention and ready to go. He jumped in with the princess in his arms.

The feel of her cheek against his own, along with her scent ratcheted up the new power within himself. The
fervor
was on him and his cock sprang to life; he was desperate to be inside of her. The energy swirled, starting in his chest and racing down his arms and legs. He knew what was coming. His passion for the princess was building and soon he would go blind.

I only have seconds.

Grabbing the whips, he gazed toward the mountain, looking for the dip that looked like a saddle on a horse, found it, and pointed the dogs in the right direction. They lurched toward the mountain range, the dogs running at a mad pace. The energy hit, and everything went black.