The Seeker Ch. 04

If they left now, Venlen knew she would try to run from him at the first chance she got. She would injure herself in the trial, but if she was desperate enough, it might not stop her. If she got too far, with the bond so fresh, it might damage her irreparably. He needed her to make her move here at the cabin. His assertion yesterday that they would not go outside would be enough to spur her to try to escape. With his men in position, she would be allowed to run just far enough that the bond would stretch and pull, and she would feel the consequences of her disobedience without serious risk of harm.

He thought back to the ritual, to the incredible pain she had been in as she struggled to breathe beneath him. He did not want that for her again, but it was a necessary lesson. Just warning her of it would not be enough to convince her to stay put by his side. He needed her to try it of her own volition. Once she did, and once she had recovered and settled, they would leave.

Ven turned his attention to the book at the edge of his desk. He reached for it, his thick fingers running over the leather binding and the gold engraved words on the cover. The Testament of the Guardians. The book that held the secrets of her origin. One day, when she was ready, he would give it to her, so that she might learn how it had always been meant to be this way. Fate had brought her to him, their intertwining histories pushing and pulling and branching and twisting to this singular point of time, when he might claim her and make her his own. He had requested the Testament be sent from the city when he had first heard her curse him in Oden, his memory sparked by something he had read in the ancient texts long ago when he had studied the histories as a boy. As he had soaked up the words and implications of the old book, he knew the prophecies contained in the text were coming to pass, that this book was written about them. And when he had found her unbound... The pieces had snapped firmly into place.

He smiled, thinking of the way she fought against him even now. He thought of past lovers he had brought to his bed, all of them young and beautiful and eager to please him. None of them had ever incited the pure ecstasy he felt during his couplings with Laiyla. She was so different from the others, her body so responsive to his attention, so eager despite her endless resistance to him. The moment he began touching her, she melted for him. The new bond would only encourage her to submit to her sexual desires. She might try to deny herself, to deny him, but eventually she would give in to the nature of the magic now spinning them together.

He stood up, gathering the papers into neat piles for later. He strode toward the door. It was time to pay his little Fae another visit.

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Laiyla paced the room, absently fingering the silver leaf pendant hanging between her breasts as she planned her escape. Sonya had given her permission to see through her eyes. Tomorrow, when Sonya brought her the first meal, she would link herself with the mute cook and would wait until Sonya was able to go outside. It was risky. If Venlen came back and found her in the trance she would be in for the time it took Sonya to circle the cabin structure, he would know what she was doing. He might also be able to sense what she was trying to do, although she didn't know the full extent of how much insight the bond gave him into her actions and intentions.

She was afraid of his anger. She had seen the consequences of his unbridled fury and she knew that the next time she crossed a line with him, she might not be so lucky. She knew that his impatience to have her bound to him was what had saved her from graver physical harm. Now there was no urgency, and she planned to do the one thing that would infuriate him beyond all reason.

Except for killing him, of course. But that plan had backfired gloriously.

She stopped and glanced at the door nervously. He would be coming back soon, she was sure of it. I shall see you tonight, his note had said. As if he were courting her. She snorted at the thought and continued pacing.

She wondered at his dichotomous behaviors. He could be infuriatingly gentle and kind. Bringing her the crates of clothing and books and jewelry; bathing her and rubbing oils onto her aching skin; gifting her that preciously short time with Eila. All these actions hinting at a man who could be gentle, compassionate even.

Then there was the darker side of him, the one that filled Laiyla with gripping terror when she thought of it. Her various aches and pains told a story of his violence. She shuddered against the memories of the ritual. She remembered the threats he had made to her against the young Fae of her clan, her friends and those she had come to think of as family. His cruelty could be staggering; his kindness, baffling.

She wished she had the time to build up her strength. She thought back with regret on all of the untouched trays she had sent back to the kitchens with Sonya, her despair making her disinterested in the soups the kind cook tried to press on her. If she was to have any chance at all of escape, now was the time, before the magic of the bond strengthened and before he had the chance to use her powers for his own dark purposes. The well-being of her friends had kept her from trying before now. She hoped that the Elder Fae had listened to what she had told her before she had left, had moved the clan and erased signs of their path. She had given them enough time to get away. Now she had to try.

She had hoped to perform the reconnaissance part of her escape during whatever time he had allowed her to go outside, but his refusal yesterday had put an end to that idea. Once Sonya had shown her the perimeter of the cabin, and she knew how many men she had to get through, she could wait until the reisnaig was away and make her move, controlling the minds of the men guarding her door and moving swiftly into the night.

"You are pacing again."

Laiyla yelped and tripped over her feet mid-stride. She would have fallen if he hadn't thrown an arm out to keep her upright. It was infuriating, the way he could sneak up on her like that. His boots must have weighed half a ton each the way he clomped down the hallway like an oaf. How was it possible she kept failing to notice it when he entered the room?

She twisted away from him and backed up a bit, trying to judge his mood to see how much of her brooding thoughts he had been aware of. His eyes were impassive, his expression revealing nothing. The long scar that ran along his neck gleamed white in the firelight. She wondered how he had gotten it, what enemy had bested him to mark him so. She wondered who had gotten the best out of the exchange and shivered. His black eyes traced her movements, swept down her small form, dwelling too long on her chest and the silver pendant nestled in her cleavage.

He was a mountain of a man. Thick, muscular arms hinted at a life of training, the coiled violence she knew to be simmering beneath the surface suggesting combat as the type. His movements revealed muscles that moved fluidly beneath his ivory tunic and leather pants as he strode toward her. She flinched, expecting his powerful arms to trap her or throw her against something, but he stopped an armlengths away from her and simply looked at her instead.

"I trust you found a few things to your satisfaction out of the small selection I could acquire for you on such short notice," he said quietly, looking pointedly at the knee length dress she had chosen to wear after she had rifled through the giant wardrobe crates for the first time. "When we get back to the city, I will have a full wardrobe made for you. I apologize I cannot offer you more right away."

She gawked at him. Small selection? The heavy crates contained more clothes than she had worn in her entire life. Money meant little to her when she lived among the forest Fae, but in the village of her childhood, a fraction of the value of just one of them would have been enough to live off for a generation. Something else he said had bothered her. When we get back to the city.

What city? Where would he take her? She had never been into a city. She didn't want to leave the safety and connection she felt to the forest. The impulse to run was growing stronger every second. Realizing she was still gawking, she slowly closed her mouth and cleared her throat. "Erm, yes. The clothes are fine. Thank you," she said, almost as an afterthought. "And thank you for the books."

He smiled, pleased.

"About going outside," she ventured, eager to make use out of what she perceived was a good mood. Instantly, his face darkened, the smile fading from his lips, his eyebrows drawing down as he drew closer. "I won't run," she said quickly. "I just need to step foot on the ground. That's all. I swear."

He smiled, almost sadly at her. "We both know you would run the first chance you got. I cannot trust you enough yet, keonai mouv. Show me you accept your new position, and we will go outside. Not before then." Something about the way he looked at her gave her pause. The look in his eyes, the infliction of his voice... She could not explain why, but it almost felt like he was challenging her.

He reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes. His full lips parted, and his breathing quickened. She knew without looking that he was becoming aroused. She knew it because she felt it, like a warm wave crashing over her from where he stood towering above her. She averted her eyes as he lowered his lips to the nape of her neck and breathed her in. Her body instantly reacted, the impulse to reach out and explore the hard lines of his chest almost unbearable. She shuddered as she tried to back away from him. Finally, he did what she had expected him to do much sooner and wrapped his muscled arms around her.

She lashed out at him with her mind, raking her mental claws against his consciousness. He chuckled softly, and she realized he hadn't felt any of the pain she had thought to inflict. She frowned and tried again. This time, his eyes grew dark with familiar anger. "Your mind games no longer work on me, keonai mouv. You are bound to me. Although you may try, your magic can no longer harm me."

It was like being dunked into a bucket of cold water. It was true then. She was at the mercy of his violent temper, his physical strength, his forced sexual desires. She weaponless against him. Not completely, she thought with a small amount of grim determination, thinking of the part of herself she had locked away from him during the ritual.

He slid his hands up her side and squeezed her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. She bared her teeth at him and tried to block him, her mood still darkened by her thwarted attempt to act against the bond. "When I kill you, reisnaig, you will wish you had killed me when you had the chance. You may be strong, but I am neither weak nor defenseless. A day will come when you forget that, and I will make you regret every single time you have touched me."

His eyes grew several shades darker, his mouth pulled down into an intimidating snarl. His hand raised up as if to strike her, and she flinched and turned quickly away. He lowered it slowly, glaring darkly at her. A growl erupted from deep in his chest, ripping through the sacred space between them and clawing at her gut. This was the real Venlen, the one she could never forget rippled beneath the surface of his placatingly humanistic acts. He was a monster, and he terrified her, but she would rather have the monster out in the open than lurking in the shadows.

He grabbed her roughly and pushed her down onto the bed. She landed hard and spun around, his hands already grappling with the belt of his leather pants. He loomed over her as they fell to the floor, and he stared down at her as her eyes widened at his thick arousal. She started to scramble away from him, but he fell upon her, grabbing her ankle and pulling her under him. He reached between them and pulled the hem of her dress roughly up her body toward her waist, his other hand sliding underneath to grasp at her breast and twist her sensitive nipple. She gasped and fought, struggling against him, even as an aching heat rushed to the place between her legs.

Suddenly he stopped, as if coming out of a trance, and quickly stood up. He reached down and pulled her to her feet, straightening her dress and stroking her hair back into place. His eyes softened as he sucked in a shuddering breath. Dark hair fell across a face roughened with stubble as he gazed out at her, sobering at the look of fear and grim satisfaction on her face. She pulled back in confusion and stared at him, her head slightly cocked to the side.

"I will not make you hate me, Laiyla. I am not your enemy." He spoke softly, almost gently. Her pulse quickened.

"It's a little too late for that, don't you think?" she snapped at him. "Or are you forgetting so quickly what you've done to me?" Her voice was rising, and she could not hold back the tremor in her voice. "Have you forgotten the Fae you killed? The times you've struck me in anger? The way you forced yourself on me in your eagerness to steal my power for yourself?" Tears were welling up in her eyes, hot and threatening. She turned away to hide them from him as they started streaming down her face. "You took everything," she said softly.

She felt him approach, felt the heat of his body as he stood close. His fingers stroked at her hair, tucking loose strands behind her ear. His breath was warm on her neck as he spoke. "Then let me give you everything, keonai mouv."

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It was now or never.

Yesterday, or one sleep and two meals ago, since it was impossible to tell the days from one another with him forcing her even to sleep and wake, she had slipped into Sonya's mind as the cook had wandered around the cabin, picking herbs and mushrooms for her soups. She had to get through just six guards. Two inside, posted in the hallway outside her door, and four circling the cabin. She had never forced the actions of more than one person before, but she could slip into their minds, one by one, and convince them to ignore her as she slipped by.

She looked back longingly at the pile of books she had arranged by the door. Some of them were priceless, and she would never be able to flip through the ancient pages.

She thought again of the murderous look in Venlen's eyes after she had tried to take control of his mind, of the way he had punished her afterwards in the dark room where he had bound her. There were things more important to her than books, and she would have to leave now if she had any hope of ever escaping him and the ways he might try to use her. She wished she had her dagger, but she had seen no sign of it since trying to take her own life.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

The first guard was posted right outside as he always was. He looked at her as she exited, and she easily slipped into his mind and convinced him she wasn't there. He looked away, disinterested. She walked by him. The next guard turned toward her as she walked past the washroom door, holding up a hand to stop her. She slipped into him, and he too looked away, looking bored as she walked past him toward the outside door.

Without looking back, she pulled it open and walked silently into the night.

Green light bloomed underneath her feet as they struck the ground, branching out to connect with the living things of the clearing around them. She breathed a deep sigh of relief at the feeling of being outside, the feeling of interconnectedness. She reveled in the lifeforce of the nighttime creatures and the trees beyond.

Walking on, she ran into the first guard who started to sound the alarm. Effortlessly, she slid past him, leaving the barest of traces in his consciousness of a shadow in the corner of his eye. She did not see the rest of them as she walked to the edge of the clearing and assumed they were walking in other directions around the cabin, watching for trouble. She breathed a sigh of relief. The work of manipulating minds was exhausting, and she needed her energy for the journey. As soon as she hit the tree line, she started to run.

The feeling was exquisite. With unchecked glee, she pumped and stretched her legs as she flew past the night creatures staring at her with yellow and red eyes. She was fearless, breathless. The hair she had pulled into a braid whipped behind her. She felt alive.

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Raul watched the Fae bitch move away from the cabin and slip into the tree line. Venlen had ordered them to stand down and let her go. He wanted her to learn a lesson about what would happen to her if she tried to escape him. Raul planned on teaching her his own private lesson, although Venlen was in the dark about it. Once Ven had caught up to her it would be too late. Raul would stand by his side, looking sadly at the body of his fearless leader's brutally ravaged mate, and would grieve with him.

His erection pressed against the leather of his fighting uniform. He was grinning as he started chasing behind her.

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Laiyla slowed down, panting. Something was wrong. At first, she thought it was just discomfort from running after having been inactive for so long. The further she ran, though, the worse the pain became. It pulsed through her in sickening waves. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, and she put her hands on her knees, reeling. It was everywhere, slowly getting worse every second she stood there. She tried limping forward but felt fresh pain bursting through her with every step.

"You stupid bitch," a menacing voice said behind her. She spun around, her eyes frantically searching the shadows of the trees. She took a few steps backwards, and the pain tore into her, white hot, unbearable, blinding her. She fell to her knees and cried out, clutching her arms around her middle. She heard footsteps approaching and looked up, the muscles in her neck straining against the pain of the movement. Raul stood towering over her, looking down at her with a look of disgust. Deadened grey eyes stared out of a face simple in its unilateral purpose of inflicting pain. Thin lips curled up in a wicked grin. If not for the evil lurking there, the fullness of his cheeks might seem boyish. As it were, the way he panted down at her like a petulant child over a stolen toy, it gave him the appearance of an overgrown play yard bully.

"You run from the man who bound you," he sneered, his hand reaching down to lewdly finger the pendant around her neck. Her face twisted with fresh agony and she fell forward onto her forearms. "You deserve every ounce of suffering, Fae slut." She heard his angry words above her.

He kicked out, quick and hard, his boot connecting with her stomach. She fell over on her side, struggling to pull in a breath. A hand grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her up to face him. His fist swung down, connecting with her cheekbone. Pain shattered through her as her head jerked to the side, the impact spinning her to the ground. The coppery taste of her own blood filled her mouth and she struggled to her hands and knees and spat at his feet.

"Fuck you," she gasped. She tried to force herself into his head, but the pain locked her powers up tight and she cursed in frustration. She heard him fumbling with his belt and the fastenings of his pants. Laiyla bit back a bitter laugh, thinking of how familiar this was all becoming.

He grabbed the back of her neck and forced her to her knees. A hand littered with puckered scars grasped his erection in front of her, his pants bunched down around his thighs. She barked a laugh at the sight of his cock, considerably smaller than Venlen's. "Where's the rest of it?" she smirked, ignoring the throbbing pain that wracked her body and made it impossible to do anything but grasp desperately at the place her power should have been.