Love in the Fortress (2 page)

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.” But her chest felt caved in.

When she saw the pit of concern between his brows, she reached up with her thumb and pressed the furrowed skin. “I’m sorry, Griffin. Sometimes, without warning, the memories return.”

He knew the story. She’d only known Griffin a month when she’d told him what had happened to her family. “I loved them both so much. Henrik was a soulful, worthy man and had never harmed another Realm-person in his life. Sweet Goddess, I hurt, even after all this time.”

As though it were the most natural thing in the world, he pulled her gently into his arms and held her. She was stunned that even in the middle of captivity, something so precious had happened to her.

She smelled his skin, the soap he used, the leather of his work vest. All seemed to combine in a rich, heady fragrance like a warm summer field, that set her mind reeling. Was it her imagination, or had his scent become something richer and deeper. Or maybe her affection for him had. She loved being with him and wished more than anything she’d come to know him in some place other than the Ancient Fae’s fortress.

~ ~ ~

Without thinking, Griffin had drawn Sandra close, wanting to offer comfort. He didn’t know what to make of the feelings he had for this woman, or that all he could think about was kissing her, touching her, taking her to bed.

Would she even be interested?

He wasn’t kind or scholarly, like her husband. He was a warrior, brutish, and determined to keep her from making this terrible mistake.

She’d become important to him, critical to his survival.

He’d met her the first night of his captivity. He’d been in a holding pen with several frightened Realm-women. Opposite him were three beast-like shifters who’d tried to assault one of the female vampires.

The hell he’d let a rape happen on his watch. He’d fought the men, using every Guardsman skill he possessed. But they’d been powerful outcasts in the shifter world and had slowly beaten him down.

His face had been a mess, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, when Sandra had entered the filthy room. She’d carried a stack of towels in her arms and was a vision with her red hair, luminous green eyes, and creamy pale skin. She’d been like a light in a dark cave as she moved into the stone chamber.

He’d been hunched over at the time, hands on his knees and trying to catch his breath before he engaged in round two or maybe it was round ten. She’d stared at him for a long moment, then shifted to take in the women huddled together, several of them weeping.

She finally turned to face the shifters. “Margetta provides women for all the slave men, all of whom delight in servicing the physical needs of her prisoners. But she doesn’t allow any of her female slaves to be violated against their will. I suggest you apologize to the women. Now.”

She had an air of authority about her and no fear. These two things alone spoke to the shifters as significant. Their species valued the command of hierarchy above almost anything else. Sandra, as he’d come to know her later, had by her attitude alone, established herself as dominant.

The shifters had backed down at once and made their apologies.

What she’d done had made a profound impression on Griffin. But he believed he’d become fixed on her when she then turned toward him, her back to the shifters and met his swollen eyes. She’d offered him a soft smile. “Welcome to the fortress, Mastyr Griffin. Your service to Camberlaune is well known. If you need anything, you have but to ask, and that’s my promise to you. I was also told by the housekeeper to add her blessing as well.”

She’d then handed him a towel which he’d used to wipe his mouth. He’d pressed the same to his nose.

After a moment, he’d held her gaze. “I won’t be staying long.”

Proud words full of air.

But he hadn’t known until his numerous failed escape attempts, just how powerful Margetta was. The Ancient Fae had been determined to keep him in her camp until she was ready to bond him to a female wraith. That day hadn’t come yet, thank the Goddess.

Sandra had then nodded. “Do what you must. But if you can, please stay alive. Surviving honors those who have gone before.”

He’d risen up from his catch-his-breath posture and stared hard at her as she ordered the women to follow her to the baths. His heart had gone with her in that moment, trailing after her, staying with her every hour of every night since his fucked up arrival in Margetta’s camp.

Later, he’d learned that Sandra had shown up in the holding pen on purpose. She’d told him she’d somehow telepathically received an image of him battling the shifters so she’d come to intervene.

When it came to his camp duties as a sparring partner to the Invictus males, he’d refused to fight at first. But after weeks of torture, during which Margetta brought him back from the dead about twenty times, he’d finally surrendered to his fate. The best he could do was to hold back the tricks the Guardsmen employed to battle Invictus pairs. In this way, his actions weren’t completely traitorous. But relying only on his fists, a limited portion of his battle energy, and the occasional axe and dagger had proved one helluva challenge. He got hurt often as well as injured to the point of death at least once a week.

He kept the camp healers busy.

On his escape attempts, he’d gone every possible direction intending to simply levitate out of the camp. More than once, he’d sensed that a pathway existed that could get him through Margetta’s invisible spelled wall. But each time he tried, confusion would eventually take him to the ground, the Invictus guards would seize him, and he’d endure another round of body-and-mind breaking torture.

Sandra had made his time bearable for the past twelve months. She’d come to him repeatedly with her healing power. He didn’t know how many times she’d helped the healers bring him back to life. Ultimately, she’d strengthened his will to live and he’d become more accepting of his fate.

She wore the long white linen gown denoting her position as a personal maid to the bitch from hell. Her beautiful red hair was braided off to the side, though she often wore it on a crown on top of her head. Her large green eyes sparkled with life, despite her enslavement. And when she smiled, he heard the angels sing.

But her skin, so creamy white, made her look fragile and tugged on his warrior instincts to protect her, despite how strong he knew her to be.

He had it bad.

He was as familiar with her history almost as well as his own. Over the past year, especially since he’d gained house privileges and had lived in a decent dungeon cell, he’d had hundreds of conversations with her. They shared one thing in particular in common; neither had any remaining kin in the Nine Realms. All his people, including his parents, were long dead as were Sandra’s. She’d even lost a husband and son. He didn’t know how she’d survived the horrific way her family had been taken from her.

He’d never known a woman like her before. She was fully fae, not the usual vampire female he went for. She had a tender heart combined with what he’d come to know as a will of granite. She’d survived because she believed it was the best way to show her love for those she’d been unable to save. She was an exceptional, worthy woman.

Every morning when he went to bed just before dawn, he begged the Goddess forgiveness for his treachery because of the sparring sessions, then prayed for his death.

Each evening, when he woke up still breathing, he sought out Sandra to make sure she was all right. He consoled himself with the thought that maybe he would find redemption if he could keep her safe.

But how safe could she be when she’d made a decision to help the tower prisoner escape?

Griffin hadn’t actually seen Regan, the Ruby Fae, but all the slaves knew Margetta had succeeded in capturing one of the most powerful fae in all the Nine Realms. She was also planning on bonding her to a powerful male wraith. As an Invictus, Regan would then have more power than she’d ever experienced before. Unfortunately, she’d also have a broken personality with little concern for others and a zealous willingness to obey Margetta in all things.

Only recently, Regan had helped Zane of Swanicott defeat a large brigade of Invictus that Margetta had kept hidden in the eastern part of Mastyr Zane’s Realm. The fortress slave-staff, as well as the army encampment on the border between Camberlaune and Tannisford Realms, had talked of nothing else for a full week, of the numbers lost, of the possibility Margetta could actually lose the war and her bid for the takeover of their world.

Of course, these fears were balanced heavily with the reality that Margetta held the Ruby Fae in her tower.

And this was the woman Sandra was intent on helping escape.

Griffin could admire Sandra’s intention, but loathed it at the same time.

From the moment she’d told him of her plan to give Regan a duplicate key to her tower cell, his battle vibration had raced through his body, trying to figure out how to stop her. Or if he couldn’t, then how to protect her.

He glanced in the direction of the doors leading outside. It wouldn’t be long before one of the Invictus vampires would come looking for him. He’d probably be beaten for not showing up on time. But when Sandra had told him what she intended to do, he’d lagged behind, intent on making sure she came to no harm.

When at last she reached the sole remaining key in the hallway, he watched her shoulders sink. There wasn’t a match after all. Thank the Goddess.

The relief he felt was a wave that washed over him, allowing him to breathe once more. “You’ve done what you could; now you can let this go.”

But she turned toward him, her lips compressed, her green eyes darkening. She spoke in a low voice. “You don’t understand, Griffin. I’ve already made the decision to do everything in my power to help Mistress Regan escape. And if I have to turn the entire fortress upside down in my hunt for the duplicate key, then that’s what I’ll do. Although, I have toyed with the idea of getting the guard drunk so he won’t follow me to the tower. Then I’ll let the Ruby Fae out myself. And now I have to put the key back before he returns.”

She then turned and moved swiftly down the hall. He followed after her, his hands clenched into fists. The first plan to get the duplicate key to the Ruby Fae was bad enough. But this new one, to take the original to Regan, shrank his balls.

“Please, don’t even think it.” He whispered the words over her shoulder a she hurried toward the guard’s room.

The troll, whose job it was to accompany Sandra to the tower cell, would be only too happy to expose her traitorous efforts to Margetta.

She reached the guardroom and he watched in relief as she slipped the key back on its hook. As she retraced her steps then turned up the hall, he could finally breathe.

She glanced at him. “Why do you look so mad?”

He drew her to a stop, turning her toward him. “I don’t want you to do this, any of it. I don’t want you to risk your life. If anything happened to you—”

He couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence. Instead his mind, or maybe it was his heart, burned with a sudden realized truth. Somewhere, in the middle of this nightmare in Margetta’s fortress, he’d fallen deeply in love with Sandra.

Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared back at him. He had hold of her arms again. He might have released her, might have taken a step back, but a long swooshing sound came from her lips. She then leaned up and kissed him.

She kissed him.

Sweet Goddess and all the elf lords burning in hell, nothing had felt better to him in his entire existence than Sandra’s lips pressed to his.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her hard to his chest. When her lips parted, he slid his tongue into heaven.

He groaned at so much wet softness, the promise of what she had between her legs. He sank into her mouth, then offered a slow push-pull of his tongue to give her a taste of what he had to offer.

The sudden sound of laughter down the hall had her drawing back, but he didn’t want the moment to end, couldn’t let it.

He switched to telepathy, something he could do with Sandra because she possessed a strong ability to path.
I don’t want to let you go.

Griffin
. Her hands were on his waist, squeezing.

Glancing around, he released her, caught her hand then pulled her swiftly down a short hall leading to a half dozen storage rooms. Her slippers made a soft rasp on the hard stone floor as she moved with him.

He opened the door to one of the fortress’s large pantries then pulled her inside. Careful not to make a sound, he shut the door.

If he’d had any doubt about her interest in the brief, forbidden moment, he was reassured when she threw herself against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight.

He turned her, pressing her up against the thick wood door, connecting his hips to hers. She was breathing hard as he kissed her again. She smelled like heaven, like a combination of herbs from the garden. He recognized one as rosemary, but the other he couldn’t quite place. Sage, maybe. Her scent worked on him in a powerful way, causing his hips to arch into her.

She moaned in response, her body writhing beneath his. Her hunger matched his own. Drawing back, he petted her face with his hand, stroking her alabaster cheek with his thumb. His gaze took in her dilated pupils and the way she kept catching her breath.

He savored the full length of her body, the softness of her skin, and her delicate herbal scent.

His whole body vibrated with desire, his legs shaking with need. He’d never used the slave women who serviced the men; he’d never wanted to. What he wanted was this and he knew she could feel his arousal by the way her hips moved from side to side. He groaned, leaned in and settled his lips on hers once more.

He was kissing her at long last.

Fire and love combined.

Hunger.

He hadn’t understood that his drive toward her, to be with her in the fortress, to look after her, had been so much more than a warrior’s instinct.

He loved this woman, loved her with all his heart. And he wanted to bury himself between her legs.