The Sanction (25 page)

Chapter Two

The warmth of the sun penetrated her
flesh and her pores sucked it up greedily. She tried to open her
eyes, but the comfort of the bed and the hard warmth that held her
secure encouraged her to want to slip in the slumber of
unconsciousness. She never again wanted to awaken. If this was what
death was like, she should have welcomed it long ago. She buried
her nose in the warmth beside her, reveling in the scent of freshly
cut grass, for it reminded her of the hills in the summer and the
little creek that trickled behind her mother’s cottage in the
mountains. She clung to that familiar scent. It meant that she was
safe. Brenna would have stayed there for a long time had it not
been for the uncomfortable, hard object that pressed into her hip.
She frowned and shifted – and felt her body ache so much so that
she hollered. The agony shocked her out of her lethargic sleep.
Blinded, she blinked, aware of the fire that near scorched her skin
– and the hard length that enveloped her. Eyes wide, she spied the
arm that was locked around her midriff.

A well muscled arm it was too, dusted
with dark hair from wrist to elbow. With body held as stiff as a
board she tried to turn her neck to see who held her captive and
scuttled out of the fur the moment he relaxed his hold to allow her
escape. On shaking feet she faced her captor, stunned by the sight
of him. He was darker than the men she was accustomed to, and
though he did not boast their height, there was no mistaking the
bulk of his massive shoulders and the whipcord muscles there. He
allowed her assessment of him shamelessly, meeting her eyes with a
small smile that was meant to sooth and comfort her. Her eyes
dropped to his chest, matted with dark hair, and the rock hard
stomach that bore many scars. The fur thankfully covered his
manhood, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes when his
gaze travelled down the length of her body. Only then did she
realize that she too was nude. A heated blush turned her body
crimson, and she shamefully covered her breasts and the curls
between her legs. Her eyes darted around the large room, seeking a
covering of some kind. He rose, unconcerned that she should see him
in all his glory, and offered the fur with a tenderness she was
unaccustomed to.

He spoke words she did not understand.
His voice was deep and husky, and grated along the nerve endings of
her skin, agitating her, making her wonder if his touch would do
the same. He draped the fur around her shoulders and pulled it
together so that her entire form was shielded from the chill and
his view, and went about the business of donning his clothes. Every
movement and effort was done so languidly. He took his time,
ensuring that each seam and crease of his tunic and breeches were
faultless, and that the straps of the sheath that held the weapons
he donned were tight and secured. He washed his face and rinsed his
mouth, and only when he dried his hands did he once again turn to
give her his full attention.

“
Where am I? Who are
you?”

Was her virgin barrier breached? She
felt sore, yes, but not in the way she had heard it said from the
elder women of her village. There must have been panic in her tone,
for he cocked his head and waited, studying her the way one would
an unusual thing. Ever so slowly he advanced. Brenna stepped back
and stumbled upon a woven rug, righted herself, and found her back
pressed against a table. He did not stop his advance, and only when
he was a hair’s breath away did he pause to finger her hair. Brenna
craned her neck back as far as possible. What made this man, this
stranger feel as though he had a right to touch her? Granted that
she woke up naked in his bed, but she did not recall having gotten
there. There was nothing threatening about him, nothing violent.
Still she was wary, for he towered above her, and although he moved
with grace, there was no doubt a dangerous edge that spoke volumes
his words could not. Slowly he traced the cuts on her face until
his attention was drawn to her aching arm. The frown that twisted
his forehead was pronounced. She considered the teeth marks upon
her flesh and the memories assailed her all at once. Eyes wide, she
lost all feeling in her feet. He was there, offering his strength
as he swept her to his chest and settled her on the nearest chair.
A warm mug of cider was offered and she drank greedily. He asked
another question and she shook her head. She could not understand
his words. He touched his fist to his chest and grinned
boyishly.

“
Rhys.”

She met his eyes and clutched the fur
tighter still before mimicking his movements. “Brenna.”

His eyes fell to her lips and stayed
there for a long time. “Brenna,” he repeated, testing it upon his
tongue. After a moment he stood and turned to the door, and met her
eyes one last time before he made an exit. “Brenna.” She frowned,
and when he motioned for her to stay, she nodded quickly. He
inclined his head in approval and closed the door at his back. For
a moment she waited, listening to the sound of his footsteps as
they faded before scampering about the room, searching for her
garments. She found them neatly folded and dried to a crisp, and
wasted no time in getting dressed haphazardly.

She had thrown herself in the river
with a dog latched onto her arm. That was her last memory. Maybe he
had found her, had given her warmth when she might have otherwise
died. Though she was indeed grateful, she could not linger in this
place for too long. The only way to thank him was to leave before
he too was killed.

Rhys located Bjorn where he left him
the night before, but instead of being bleary eyed and drunk, he
was well rested and indulged himself in a hearty
breakfast.

“
Ah, so you took yourself to
bed off early last night,” the man offered with a twinkle in his
eyes.

“
Oh aye, after I discovered
the woman half drowned in the river.”

Bjorn frowned and licked his fingers
slowly. “What happened?”

Rhys sat and shook his head, still
amazed that he had been lucky enough to be the one to stumble
across her, and met his hosts eyes for an intense second. “She is
my mate.”

Bjorn’s stunned expression turned into
an all out grin, and it was with a thunderous laugh did he clap
Rhys on the shoulder so hard that he jerked forward and winced.
“This is indeed a time for celebration. What a grand thing is Fate!
You have travelled far to claim a mate here in my lands boy. I am
truly happy for you.”

Rhys smiled. “Aye. But I come to you
with a request.”

“
Anything.”

“
She does not speak my
tongue. It makes communication difficult.”

“
Ah. I will send one of my
men to you – but before that, one of my mate’s maids will attend to
her. Let us not offend her more delicate nature by not seeing to
her needs first, shall we?”

Rhys nodded agreement and thanked him
again. “I will see her fed first.”

Bjorn himself arranged an overflowing
platter and a large mug of warm cider and waved him off with a
smile on his face. Rhys wasted no time in returning to his chamber
and paused outside the door when no sound was forthcoming. Upon
entry he froze cold. She was gone, her clothes and her worn boots
with her, and the fur they had used to ward off the cold the night
before was folded and placed neatly upon the bed. He shot a glance
toward the half opened window and deposited the platter before
snatching the fur and following suit. He recalled her bruised body
and his ire heightened. She was in danger, and instead of staying
with him where it was safe, she had chosen to face it on her own.
It might have won her his admiration if she was not his mate. From
the moment his feet hit the muddy ground he picked up her scent.
She was in the process of sneaking out of the stable when he
blocked her path, but it was not with a horse in tow, but a small
satchel packed with dried grains and fruit. Her eyes widened when
she spotted him and she froze. A flicker of fear entered her eyes.
She appeared composed enough, but the waves of panic coming off of
her worried him greatly.

With slow intent, he offered
his hand and a smile. She was so very beautiful and delicate.
Whatever she feared, he would keep her safe. He would protect her,
would kill for her, maybe even die for her. It was no use trying to
explain these things though, because she was not
Were
. Instead, he would
have to try and woo her, and for Rhys, it was the biggest challenge
yet. She could not understand him, but maybe it was better this
way. He had no sweet words he knew women loved to hear. All he had
was the knowledge that she belonged to him. For that alone he would
grow to love her.

She stepped away and shook her head,
gesturing to the door at his back and spoke with urgency and,
despite her fear, determination. It was clear she did not want to
linger. He offered the fur and gestured once more, encouraging her
to accept the gift. With much hesitance she did, and faster than
lightening he snatched her wrist and dragged her to his form. She
struggled against him, battling his chest with her fists, and he
looked at her again for the first time. She had a temper to be
sure, and her eyes were the lightest hazel he had ever seen,
flecked oddly in blue. It was captivating.

“
I will not hurt you,” he
offered with tender infliction. As the stroke of his fingers along
her back increased in pressure, she sagged against him and met his
eyes, not smiling even when he did. Her words were hurried, barely
a breath in between. He did not need to know the specifics – she
wanted to leave, needed to desperately, and he was detaining her, a
fact she did not like in the least. No sooner had she finished did
he lift her to his chest. She gasped and clung onto him, face still
red.

“
Whoever you’re running away
from cannot hurt you as long as I am here,” came his husky promise.
“You will eat, then you will tell me what you are so afraid
of.”

She shuddered and swallowed hard, eyes
frantic even as she tried to explain. Rhys shook his head and held
her tighter when she tried to struggle out of his grasp. A whimper
he took as a plea caused his chest to tighten. He could not release
her, would never do so, and the sooner she became reconciled to the
fact that he was now her protector, the sooner he could get along
with the business of wooing her. The task would not be easy if she
did not learn to trust him. She spoke again, this time giving vent
to the fury he had only glimpsed in her eyes, and drew attention to
herself from passersby. He scowled, and when she insisted upon
struggling, did the only thing he could to keep her
contained.

He kissed her. Abruptly, quickly,
nothing more than a hard, quick peck. It stunned her into complete
submission, or maybe it was simply shock. By the time she found the
courage to glower at him, they were already in the great hall.
Luckily, Bjorn had yet to complete his hearty meal. Rhys took her
with him upon his lap when he sat, and was so amused by the look of
horror on her face all he could do was smile.

Chapter Three

Brenna wriggled, a vain attempt at
removing herself from his embrace. Instead, she heard him hiss,
felt stiffness beneath her rump and froze instantly. He said
something to her, face pulled tight, and she blushed to the roots
of her hair with the knowledge that he responded so quickly – that
he responded at all for that matter. In all her twenty-five years,
she had managed to keep every male away from her. Heat burned in
his gaze and there was longing in his eyes such that she’d never
seen before. When he touched her, it was with tender fingers, with
gentle words, with a confidence that spoke about a man in control
and knew as much. And he was stubborn, in all his tender ways. He
would not even allow her to sit on her own chair. Instead he and
the man dressed in a richly ornamented fur spoke deeply, seriously.
All the while his hand stroked her hair as if she were a favored
pet. Her ire heightened, and when she attempted to rise again, he
hugged her around the waist and applied pressure there. The older
man bellowed, causing her to jump out of her skin, but was attended
to instantly by a man tall and yellow haired and a ready smile.
More words were exchanged, and the newcomer met her eyes boldly.
There was perusal in his gaze, and maybe approval, for the man who
called himself Rhys stiffened and growled.

Growled?

She blinked and frowned. She must be
still suffering some kind of after effect from the fall. The yellow
haired man spoke to her, and when she frowned, he tried again. They
were wasting their time and hers. She needed to get out of here.
Now.

“
I can’t understand any of
you,” she grumbled with an impatient huff, though her voice still
trembled. His eyes, as blue as the sky, brightened
instantly.

“
Can you understand me now?”
Stunned, she gasped. He nodded in satisfaction. “I take that as a
yes.”

Rhys shifted uncomfortably and made a
soft statement.

“
My name is Daagan. This is
King Bjorn and his guest, General Rhys.”

Her eyes darted from one to the next
until she turned to look at Rhys. He frowned still, making his eyes
glint hard. She shuddered and tried to escape again, and when he
held her, there was more than just an insistence to stay in his
touch. His words were a demand once again, and Daagan hesitated
before meeting her eyes.