Hoofbeats on
packed earth echoed among towering trees in the night-enshrouded woods. Empusa
smoothed a hand over her hair and took a step closer to the roadway. Moonlight
cast a pale glow along the highway. She moved nearer.
When the hoofbeats grew louder, announcing the traveler’s imminent approach, she inhaled sharply. Her demigoddess breath infused a stiff breeze into the island’s heavy, sea-laden air. Her glowing red-as-flame locks danced on the slight wind. She smiled.
Empusa strode to the middle of the roadway and faced the human.
Rather than a crouched old man atop an ass, the usual traveler Hecate sent her to frighten, a strong, straight rider rode bareback upon a regal gray stallion. The man sat tall, his shoulders broad and his black, wavy hair flecked with moonlight.
The animal’s thick neck and muscular shoulders twitched. Its eyes widened to show white all around. It didn’t halt, however.
The man showed no fear and no sign of stopping. His lack of interest confused her. She shrieked, a shrill, piercing cry that made leaves shiver upon nearby trees. Still, he released no smell of fear. The horse screamed and shied, nearly tossing his rider.
“Damn it,” shouted the man, his eyes dark and piercing in his ire. “Be quiet and move aside, woman.”
Butterflies beat wings of delight in her stomach. Who was this human? “Cower before Empusa!”
He reined his horse to a halt and narrowed his eyes. “Empusa, huh?”
She’d never given much thought to her constant nudity, but this man made her very aware. She arched a bit, thrusting her breasts while her nipples went achingly hard. Scaring him was now out of the question. This man she would seduce then devour.
“The goddess Hecate’s beautiful daughter?” He took her in from head to toe. One ebony eyebrow arched. Meeting her gaze, he said, “You’re beautiful, to be sure, but I doubt you are Empusa.”
His impudence sent an unexpected rush of moisture through her suddenly throbbing crease. She issued an impatient blow, dissipating the breeze. Her hair settled onto her shoulders and down her back. Swaying her hips, she slowly approached him, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger in time with her seductive strides.
“You find me beautiful?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
A pebble bit into her heel, and she hesitated long enough to kick it off the road. “Most find me frightful. I’m powerful. Dangerous.”
He laughed. “No. You’re bored and horny.”
She wanted to be irritated, but this man was entirely too pleasing to behold. “I am the daughter of Hecate.”
She stepped near the horse and waved her hand. The beast calmed. Its breath puffed noisily from its nostrils, and its eyelids drooped as if it would nap. Empusa sent the man a coy grin then initiated the tingling magic that transformed her into a donkey. She then became a bull. On a shiver, she shrank into the form of a dog. She heaved to her hind legs and took on her favorite shape – that of an irresistible temptress.
“Impressive,” he said. “Since you’re a demigoddess, I have nothing to fear from you.”
He didn’t appear to fear anything. Ever.
“Why is that?” she ran a fingertip along the striated muscles of his horse’s neck and slowly smiled as the animal trembled.
A slight smile relieved the disinterest in his visage. “Because I think often about the good things the gods have promised.”
She blinked. Yes. The gods had promised good things. It had been eons since she’d thought of that. Eons since she’d wanted to do good things. She’d consumed too much blood. Eaten too much flesh. Taken too many lives. All for the entertainment and fulfillment of her mother.
His exomis pale in the moonlight, he dismounted and took her hand. “Have I injured you in some way? You look pained.”
She did? Empusa straightened her shoulders. “I’m not wounded or insulted. Only thinking.”
He lifted her hand and studied her fingers on his palm. “You’re a dainty one.”
A jolt of need swelled the folds of her slit. She turned her hand in his and took hold. “Let me entice you.”
She placed her other hand to his chest bared by his exomis. He felt warm and firm. His pulse jumped in rhythmic allure. Subduing her hunger, she fought the tickle in her gums that preceded the emergence of her fangs. Another appetite needed appeasement first.
“What are you called?” she asked.
“I’m called many things. My father calls me ungrateful and discontent. My mother calls me rash. By my friends, I’m called intrepid.” He offered a half smile.
Her stomach quivered with delight. “I meant your name.”
“Now that’s a different matter altogether. I’m Diolorius, prince of Thessaly.”
A prince. It explained a lot. Still, he ought to fear her. She gripped his wrist in both hands and stepped backward. “Come with me, Prince Diolorius. Lay with me. Fuck me. Fill me with pleasure and feed my need.”
He followed her two steps but halted, jerking her to a standstill. “If you’re Empusa, as you say, you’re a flesh-eater. I may be rash, but I’m no fool.”
Gently tugging, she whispered, “Please. You were right. I’m bored and horny. I’m so wet and ruttish that I can’t stand it. Come to my bed.”
“If you’re so hot and wet for it, why make the trip?” His dark eyes settled on her mouth. He cupped her heavy breast with his free hand. “I’ll take you here. Now. Where we stand.”
In the middle of the road? The idea made her throb harder. An insistent pull in her womb demanded satisfaction. She let go. Behind him, his horse swayed a bit, asleep thanks to her calming spell.
A traveler could come along and witness their fornication. It was unlikely, since Diolorius had been the first human down this road in three weeks. Still, the thought thrilled her.
She lifted the hem of his short chiton. His cock jutted, hard and straight. Empusa inhaled a long, deep breath, pleased. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Ready and beyond eager, she met his gaze. “Yes.”
Wasting no time with unnecessary foreplay, she planted her hands on his shoulders. She leapt, wrapping her legs around his waist.
He moaned. His eyes went intense. Grasping the exomis at his shoulder, he drew the short garment from under her legs’ grip and off. With nothing between them, she embraced him, thrilling at the feel of his warm, hard body.
He smelled of Greek pine, a hint of wood smoke, and something male and delicious that was uniquely him. He fitted the tip of his member to her slick opening.
“Now,” she cried. “Take me.”
%%%
The scent of wildflowers and arousal emanated from her, engulfing Diolorius’ senses and making his head spin. He slid into her tight, inviting quim. She surrounded him in every way possible. Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes.
He held Empusa by the ass and pumped into the demigoddess’ body. Bending his knees a bit, he gained a better angle and sent his thick length deep into her, again and again.
Her head fell back. Her bright green eyes closed. Parting her lips, she revealed a pair of fangs as she released a cry of pleasure. Rather than frightening him, her sharp teeth excited him further.
He fucked no boring, predictable woman. No, this creature was deadly, gorgeous, and entirely irresistible. He needed to make her scream. He’d never do it in this position, however.
Seated fully inside her, he inhaled sharply as an unexpected instinct urged him to bury his face in the side of her neck. He bit.
Hard.
She howled and squirmed, but he kept her pinned, pelvis to pelvis. The metallic taste of her blood seeped past his teeth and coated his tongue. He didn’t know why he’d bitten her, only that he couldn’t deny the compulsion. He wanted to make her his, and instinct told him this was the way.
He strode to the road’s edge and bent. Her shoulders landed in a bed of leaves between two trees, and she gasped. Staying with her, he settled to his knees and slammed into her.
She was so hot around him. So wet. She felt amazing. A perfect fit. Her breathing grew rapid. Ragged.
He released her neck and claimed her mouth where their tongues met and he swept inside. Her fangs had receded, and she tasted sweet like figs and honey. Her delectable flavor replaced the metallic tang of her blood as he thrust his tongue along hers in time with his ramming cock.
He pounded into her. Pleasure built, drawing him closer to orgasm. His lungs fought for breath, and he released her mouth. Extending his arms, he increased his rhythm.
Small cries replaced his kiss upon her lips. Her fingers dug into his upper arms. Her legs around his hips urged him faster. Deeper. He sucked air into his lungs in great gulps.
Empusa was like nobody he’d known. She seduced. Demanded. Overpowered. At the same time, he seemed to absorb some kind of energy from her. She infused him. His heart beat stronger. His mind sharpened. His senses grew acute.
“Say my name,” he said, hardly recognized his own voice for the passion straining it.
She cried out. Her hips tilted upward, taking him the deepest yet. She wrapped her arms about his neck.
“Say my name,” he insisted.
“Please.” She groaned. “I’ve never—”
“Say it or I’ll leave you.”
Her eyes flew open. She clung to him, arms and legs locking. “No.”
He fought a smile and slowed his pace. “My name. Say it.”
“Diolorius. Brave, handsome Diolorius.”
“Beautiful, sensual Empusa.” Thrusting hard and fast, he strove to make her scream for him.
Her lids lowered, sending her red lashes against her white skin. Her lush mouth opened and her back arched. It took only a few more slams of his cock into her convulsing quim to make her comply.
Her scream resounded to the treetops, filling the forest and his ears.
He released the floodgates, letting loose his explosion inside her. He shouted and shook. He’d never come so hard in his life.
“By all the gods,” he whispered, lowering his forehand to hers as orgasm dissipated and they both relaxed.
“You bit me.” Empusa touched fingertips to the place he’d sunk his teeth.
Withdrawing from her tight entrance, he touched the tip of his tongue to the corner of his lips. A trace of her blood lingered there, renewing its flavor in his mouth. Rearing onto his haunches, he said, “I had to.”
She sat, bracing her hands in the leaves. Her knees came together as her stunning gaze widened. “Why?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“What now?”
Diolorius studied her. She glanced from side to side and put a hand to the top of her head. He suspected she felt as lost as he did, and something told him she wasn’t used to it. This demigoddess had power and abilities.
When she’d stopped him on the road, she’d been all confidence and barely veiled anger. Now, she appeared soft. Gentle. Sweet, almost. He fought an urge to gather her into his arms.
“I guess this is when you’re supposed to kill me,” he said quietly.
Her gaze snapped to his. “You’d fight, probably.”
He imagined fighting her, those fangs flashing and her sexy body tense with attack. It turned him on, and he resisted a smile. “Probably.”
When the hoofbeats grew louder, announcing the traveler’s imminent approach, she inhaled sharply. Her demigoddess breath infused a stiff breeze into the island’s heavy, sea-laden air. Her glowing red-as-flame locks danced on the slight wind. She smiled.
Empusa strode to the middle of the roadway and faced the human.
Rather than a crouched old man atop an ass, the usual traveler Hecate sent her to frighten, a strong, straight rider rode bareback upon a regal gray stallion. The man sat tall, his shoulders broad and his black, wavy hair flecked with moonlight.
The animal’s thick neck and muscular shoulders twitched. Its eyes widened to show white all around. It didn’t halt, however.
The man showed no fear and no sign of stopping. His lack of interest confused her. She shrieked, a shrill, piercing cry that made leaves shiver upon nearby trees. Still, he released no smell of fear. The horse screamed and shied, nearly tossing his rider.
“Damn it,” shouted the man, his eyes dark and piercing in his ire. “Be quiet and move aside, woman.”
Butterflies beat wings of delight in her stomach. Who was this human? “Cower before Empusa!”
He reined his horse to a halt and narrowed his eyes. “Empusa, huh?”
She’d never given much thought to her constant nudity, but this man made her very aware. She arched a bit, thrusting her breasts while her nipples went achingly hard. Scaring him was now out of the question. This man she would seduce then devour.
“The goddess Hecate’s beautiful daughter?” He took her in from head to toe. One ebony eyebrow arched. Meeting her gaze, he said, “You’re beautiful, to be sure, but I doubt you are Empusa.”
His impudence sent an unexpected rush of moisture through her suddenly throbbing crease. She issued an impatient blow, dissipating the breeze. Her hair settled onto her shoulders and down her back. Swaying her hips, she slowly approached him, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger in time with her seductive strides.
“You find me beautiful?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
A pebble bit into her heel, and she hesitated long enough to kick it off the road. “Most find me frightful. I’m powerful. Dangerous.”
He laughed. “No. You’re bored and horny.”
She wanted to be irritated, but this man was entirely too pleasing to behold. “I am the daughter of Hecate.”
She stepped near the horse and waved her hand. The beast calmed. Its breath puffed noisily from its nostrils, and its eyelids drooped as if it would nap. Empusa sent the man a coy grin then initiated the tingling magic that transformed her into a donkey. She then became a bull. On a shiver, she shrank into the form of a dog. She heaved to her hind legs and took on her favorite shape – that of an irresistible temptress.
“Impressive,” he said. “Since you’re a demigoddess, I have nothing to fear from you.”
He didn’t appear to fear anything. Ever.
“Why is that?” she ran a fingertip along the striated muscles of his horse’s neck and slowly smiled as the animal trembled.
A slight smile relieved the disinterest in his visage. “Because I think often about the good things the gods have promised.”
She blinked. Yes. The gods had promised good things. It had been eons since she’d thought of that. Eons since she’d wanted to do good things. She’d consumed too much blood. Eaten too much flesh. Taken too many lives. All for the entertainment and fulfillment of her mother.
His exomis pale in the moonlight, he dismounted and took her hand. “Have I injured you in some way? You look pained.”
She did? Empusa straightened her shoulders. “I’m not wounded or insulted. Only thinking.”
He lifted her hand and studied her fingers on his palm. “You’re a dainty one.”
A jolt of need swelled the folds of her slit. She turned her hand in his and took hold. “Let me entice you.”
She placed her other hand to his chest bared by his exomis. He felt warm and firm. His pulse jumped in rhythmic allure. Subduing her hunger, she fought the tickle in her gums that preceded the emergence of her fangs. Another appetite needed appeasement first.
“What are you called?” she asked.
“I’m called many things. My father calls me ungrateful and discontent. My mother calls me rash. By my friends, I’m called intrepid.” He offered a half smile.
Her stomach quivered with delight. “I meant your name.”
“Now that’s a different matter altogether. I’m Diolorius, prince of Thessaly.”
A prince. It explained a lot. Still, he ought to fear her. She gripped his wrist in both hands and stepped backward. “Come with me, Prince Diolorius. Lay with me. Fuck me. Fill me with pleasure and feed my need.”
He followed her two steps but halted, jerking her to a standstill. “If you’re Empusa, as you say, you’re a flesh-eater. I may be rash, but I’m no fool.”
Gently tugging, she whispered, “Please. You were right. I’m bored and horny. I’m so wet and ruttish that I can’t stand it. Come to my bed.”
“If you’re so hot and wet for it, why make the trip?” His dark eyes settled on her mouth. He cupped her heavy breast with his free hand. “I’ll take you here. Now. Where we stand.”
In the middle of the road? The idea made her throb harder. An insistent pull in her womb demanded satisfaction. She let go. Behind him, his horse swayed a bit, asleep thanks to her calming spell.
A traveler could come along and witness their fornication. It was unlikely, since Diolorius had been the first human down this road in three weeks. Still, the thought thrilled her.
She lifted the hem of his short chiton. His cock jutted, hard and straight. Empusa inhaled a long, deep breath, pleased. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.
Ready and beyond eager, she met his gaze. “Yes.”
Wasting no time with unnecessary foreplay, she planted her hands on his shoulders. She leapt, wrapping her legs around his waist.
He moaned. His eyes went intense. Grasping the exomis at his shoulder, he drew the short garment from under her legs’ grip and off. With nothing between them, she embraced him, thrilling at the feel of his warm, hard body.
He smelled of Greek pine, a hint of wood smoke, and something male and delicious that was uniquely him. He fitted the tip of his member to her slick opening.
“Now,” she cried. “Take me.”
%%%
The scent of wildflowers and arousal emanated from her, engulfing Diolorius’ senses and making his head spin. He slid into her tight, inviting quim. She surrounded him in every way possible. Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes.
He held Empusa by the ass and pumped into the demigoddess’ body. Bending his knees a bit, he gained a better angle and sent his thick length deep into her, again and again.
Her head fell back. Her bright green eyes closed. Parting her lips, she revealed a pair of fangs as she released a cry of pleasure. Rather than frightening him, her sharp teeth excited him further.
He fucked no boring, predictable woman. No, this creature was deadly, gorgeous, and entirely irresistible. He needed to make her scream. He’d never do it in this position, however.
Seated fully inside her, he inhaled sharply as an unexpected instinct urged him to bury his face in the side of her neck. He bit.
Hard.
She howled and squirmed, but he kept her pinned, pelvis to pelvis. The metallic taste of her blood seeped past his teeth and coated his tongue. He didn’t know why he’d bitten her, only that he couldn’t deny the compulsion. He wanted to make her his, and instinct told him this was the way.
He strode to the road’s edge and bent. Her shoulders landed in a bed of leaves between two trees, and she gasped. Staying with her, he settled to his knees and slammed into her.
She was so hot around him. So wet. She felt amazing. A perfect fit. Her breathing grew rapid. Ragged.
He released her neck and claimed her mouth where their tongues met and he swept inside. Her fangs had receded, and she tasted sweet like figs and honey. Her delectable flavor replaced the metallic tang of her blood as he thrust his tongue along hers in time with his ramming cock.
He pounded into her. Pleasure built, drawing him closer to orgasm. His lungs fought for breath, and he released her mouth. Extending his arms, he increased his rhythm.
Small cries replaced his kiss upon her lips. Her fingers dug into his upper arms. Her legs around his hips urged him faster. Deeper. He sucked air into his lungs in great gulps.
Empusa was like nobody he’d known. She seduced. Demanded. Overpowered. At the same time, he seemed to absorb some kind of energy from her. She infused him. His heart beat stronger. His mind sharpened. His senses grew acute.
“Say my name,” he said, hardly recognized his own voice for the passion straining it.
She cried out. Her hips tilted upward, taking him the deepest yet. She wrapped her arms about his neck.
“Say my name,” he insisted.
“Please.” She groaned. “I’ve never—”
“Say it or I’ll leave you.”
Her eyes flew open. She clung to him, arms and legs locking. “No.”
He fought a smile and slowed his pace. “My name. Say it.”
“Diolorius. Brave, handsome Diolorius.”
“Beautiful, sensual Empusa.” Thrusting hard and fast, he strove to make her scream for him.
Her lids lowered, sending her red lashes against her white skin. Her lush mouth opened and her back arched. It took only a few more slams of his cock into her convulsing quim to make her comply.
Her scream resounded to the treetops, filling the forest and his ears.
He released the floodgates, letting loose his explosion inside her. He shouted and shook. He’d never come so hard in his life.
“By all the gods,” he whispered, lowering his forehand to hers as orgasm dissipated and they both relaxed.
“You bit me.” Empusa touched fingertips to the place he’d sunk his teeth.
Withdrawing from her tight entrance, he touched the tip of his tongue to the corner of his lips. A trace of her blood lingered there, renewing its flavor in his mouth. Rearing onto his haunches, he said, “I had to.”
She sat, bracing her hands in the leaves. Her knees came together as her stunning gaze widened. “Why?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“What now?”
Diolorius studied her. She glanced from side to side and put a hand to the top of her head. He suspected she felt as lost as he did, and something told him she wasn’t used to it. This demigoddess had power and abilities.
When she’d stopped him on the road, she’d been all confidence and barely veiled anger. Now, she appeared soft. Gentle. Sweet, almost. He fought an urge to gather her into his arms.
“I guess this is when you’re supposed to kill me,” he said quietly.
Her gaze snapped to his. “You’d fight, probably.”
He imagined fighting her, those fangs flashing and her sexy body tense with attack. It turned him on, and he resisted a smile. “Probably.”
"Let go of me!" Mariadne struggled against strong hands. Two men from the nearby village yanked and dragged her to a clearing next to her hut, while a third used a torch to set the roof ablaze. Fingers bit into her arms, but nothing compared to the pain of losing the only home she'd ever known. "No!"
She glanced at the clumsy grave she'd prepared when her mother had died years ago. Anger forbade tears from falling, but she shook. These people hated her. They hadn't even helped her bury the one person who'd loved her. In fact, none had spoken to her in seven years. The first time she'd gone to the village, she'd been spat upon. She'd avoided them ever since. No one had spoken to her since her mother died except an old hermit woman who'd lived near shore, and she'd died two years ago.
In less than five minutes, her hut became an inferno. The deafening roar filled the night as everything she owned, everything she'd known, succumbed to hungry flames. Orange light brightened the faces of villagers who'd come to watch.
A smug smile pulled at the butcher's wife's pinched features. "Hades put you here as a temptation to our men."
"What?" Mariadne blinked.
"Our men are strong. They've resisted your poisonous lure, but now you must go."
All eyes turned toward King Mino's palace, a series of elaborate rooflines on the horizon.
Mariadne swallowed hard and shook her head. She didn't deserve a fate in the labyrinth. She hadn't done anything wrong. "Don't do this."
The hut's roof collapsed, sending a burst of sparks skyward. Nobody said a word. She fought the brute's hold on her arms. A strange prickling began at her solar plexus, but before she could think, a blinding pain exploded at the back of her head. Stars dotted her vision a second before the world fell away.
* * * *
A terrible thirst urged Mariadne awake. Her lids grated across dry, gritty eyes. Blinking hurt until a meager moisture relieved the discomfort.
She lay on a dirt floor in a cell walled by dry, gray rock. A tiny round window afforded her an anemic view of black sky. Interlocking wrought iron bulls formed a door barring her exit, but allowed in a dappling of flickering golden light.
"Hello?" she croaked. Her parched tongue hardly struggled to form the word.
Silence.
She sat up. A stab of pain pierced the base of her skull where she put fingertips into her hair and found a huge bump. When her touch sent worse pain shooting into her brain, she sucked a breath through her teeth. She inhaled on a wave of nausea then slowly released the air.
She pushed to her bare feet and went to the door. Pressing her face to the cold metal, she tried to see past her cell. Only a rock wall danced in firelight from a high torch set in a rusty iron bracket.
Mariadne sank to the dirt and hung her head. She'd been alone since her mother died, but she'd never felt so alone as she did now. What did she have? Her home was destroyed. She had no family. No friends. She'd been battling to survive too long, with barely enough to eat at any given time, and the villagers treating her as some diseased outcast. They claimed her mother had been Hades' mistress and Mariadne a spawn of the underworld. All lies! Her mother had never given her the truth to use as a defense, however.
If she escaped, where could she go? What would she do? She had nothing to recommend her. No connections. No special skills or talents. She had only her intelligence. Considering the rumors, she suspected she'd be despised the second anyone learned she was her mother's daughter. What did she have to live for?
She didn’t want to die. Not in the maze like a helpless victim. If she had to die, she wanted to do so in an attempt to make a difference. Any difference. She eyed the door's hinges and shook her head. Builders had designed the door to swing inward, giving her access to the joints. She glanced about her cell.
The room was bare except for a torch bracket as rusted as the one in the corridor. Bruised and aching, she heaved upright and moved to the wall. She tested the grimy bracket and found its moorings worn and loose. Leaning against chill rock, she wiggled the piece of metal for long minutes until the fixture came off in her hand. The metal maintained good integrity beneath a crumbling surface rust.
She returned to the door and inserted the bracket's edge between the bottom hinge pin and its knuckle. The fixture didn't have much length for leveraging, but patience was one of the virtues Mariadne had gained when learning to hunt and fish for survival.
When she managed to work the tight pin halfway out, a deep cry thundered into the corridor. She stilled, holding her breath. Her heartbeat thumped in her throat. She recognized that sound. It mirrored the sound of agony in her soul.
The night's quiet settled around her, so she worked at the hinge. How much time did she have? How long had she lain unconscious? Would she face the labyrinth tonight?
Dread blossomed at the lowest point in her stomach. What if her cell was in the maze? Would escaping serve to loose her inside the labyrinth?
The pin came free and hit the dirt with a dull thud. Mariadne gave the door's bottom corner a yank, and the hinge separated. The iron flexed slightly, but not much.
I have to try. She lay on her side and put her head out of the opening. She wormed through by inches. Her shoulder caught a sharp edge, and she hissed as her skin sliced.
Another soul-wrenching cry rent the night.
She clutched wrought iron and panted. Was a man being tortured? Did he needed help? "I'm going to die, anyway."
She pushed at the door. Sucking in her waist, she tugged at the worn fabric of her peplos tunic and slid out to her hips. "I'd rather die trying to save someone than as a helpless victim."
Her garment snagged the same sharp piece that had cut her shoulder. Fabric ripped, but she wrenched free. She stood, plucked the torch off the wall, and studied her two choices of direction. The way going right descended around a dark corner. To her left, a set of five steps led to a walkway built of stone blocks. Another bellow echoed from far ahead.
She headed toward the walkway.
She glanced at the clumsy grave she'd prepared when her mother had died years ago. Anger forbade tears from falling, but she shook. These people hated her. They hadn't even helped her bury the one person who'd loved her. In fact, none had spoken to her in seven years. The first time she'd gone to the village, she'd been spat upon. She'd avoided them ever since. No one had spoken to her since her mother died except an old hermit woman who'd lived near shore, and she'd died two years ago.
In less than five minutes, her hut became an inferno. The deafening roar filled the night as everything she owned, everything she'd known, succumbed to hungry flames. Orange light brightened the faces of villagers who'd come to watch.
A smug smile pulled at the butcher's wife's pinched features. "Hades put you here as a temptation to our men."
"What?" Mariadne blinked.
"Our men are strong. They've resisted your poisonous lure, but now you must go."
All eyes turned toward King Mino's palace, a series of elaborate rooflines on the horizon.
Mariadne swallowed hard and shook her head. She didn't deserve a fate in the labyrinth. She hadn't done anything wrong. "Don't do this."
The hut's roof collapsed, sending a burst of sparks skyward. Nobody said a word. She fought the brute's hold on her arms. A strange prickling began at her solar plexus, but before she could think, a blinding pain exploded at the back of her head. Stars dotted her vision a second before the world fell away.
* * * *
A terrible thirst urged Mariadne awake. Her lids grated across dry, gritty eyes. Blinking hurt until a meager moisture relieved the discomfort.
She lay on a dirt floor in a cell walled by dry, gray rock. A tiny round window afforded her an anemic view of black sky. Interlocking wrought iron bulls formed a door barring her exit, but allowed in a dappling of flickering golden light.
"Hello?" she croaked. Her parched tongue hardly struggled to form the word.
Silence.
She sat up. A stab of pain pierced the base of her skull where she put fingertips into her hair and found a huge bump. When her touch sent worse pain shooting into her brain, she sucked a breath through her teeth. She inhaled on a wave of nausea then slowly released the air.
She pushed to her bare feet and went to the door. Pressing her face to the cold metal, she tried to see past her cell. Only a rock wall danced in firelight from a high torch set in a rusty iron bracket.
Mariadne sank to the dirt and hung her head. She'd been alone since her mother died, but she'd never felt so alone as she did now. What did she have? Her home was destroyed. She had no family. No friends. She'd been battling to survive too long, with barely enough to eat at any given time, and the villagers treating her as some diseased outcast. They claimed her mother had been Hades' mistress and Mariadne a spawn of the underworld. All lies! Her mother had never given her the truth to use as a defense, however.
If she escaped, where could she go? What would she do? She had nothing to recommend her. No connections. No special skills or talents. She had only her intelligence. Considering the rumors, she suspected she'd be despised the second anyone learned she was her mother's daughter. What did she have to live for?
She didn’t want to die. Not in the maze like a helpless victim. If she had to die, she wanted to do so in an attempt to make a difference. Any difference. She eyed the door's hinges and shook her head. Builders had designed the door to swing inward, giving her access to the joints. She glanced about her cell.
The room was bare except for a torch bracket as rusted as the one in the corridor. Bruised and aching, she heaved upright and moved to the wall. She tested the grimy bracket and found its moorings worn and loose. Leaning against chill rock, she wiggled the piece of metal for long minutes until the fixture came off in her hand. The metal maintained good integrity beneath a crumbling surface rust.
She returned to the door and inserted the bracket's edge between the bottom hinge pin and its knuckle. The fixture didn't have much length for leveraging, but patience was one of the virtues Mariadne had gained when learning to hunt and fish for survival.
When she managed to work the tight pin halfway out, a deep cry thundered into the corridor. She stilled, holding her breath. Her heartbeat thumped in her throat. She recognized that sound. It mirrored the sound of agony in her soul.
The night's quiet settled around her, so she worked at the hinge. How much time did she have? How long had she lain unconscious? Would she face the labyrinth tonight?
Dread blossomed at the lowest point in her stomach. What if her cell was in the maze? Would escaping serve to loose her inside the labyrinth?
The pin came free and hit the dirt with a dull thud. Mariadne gave the door's bottom corner a yank, and the hinge separated. The iron flexed slightly, but not much.
I have to try. She lay on her side and put her head out of the opening. She wormed through by inches. Her shoulder caught a sharp edge, and she hissed as her skin sliced.
Another soul-wrenching cry rent the night.
She clutched wrought iron and panted. Was a man being tortured? Did he needed help? "I'm going to die, anyway."
She pushed at the door. Sucking in her waist, she tugged at the worn fabric of her peplos tunic and slid out to her hips. "I'd rather die trying to save someone than as a helpless victim."
Her garment snagged the same sharp piece that had cut her shoulder. Fabric ripped, but she wrenched free. She stood, plucked the torch off the wall, and studied her two choices of direction. The way going right descended around a dark corner. To her left, a set of five steps led to a walkway built of stone blocks. Another bellow echoed from far ahead.
She headed toward the walkway.
"I
hate men!" Kathy threw her phone against the wall. It busted open, spewing
tiny metal bits like a miniature fireworks display. "That son of a
bitch."
Melony placed a hand on her burgeoning belly and heaved from her couch. "Geez, Kath, I think you dented my drywall." She went over and fingered the spot where it had hit. Sighing, she stood and placed a bracing palm at the small of her back. "I take it Stanley left you again?"
"Again?" Kathy clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. She didn't want to terrify her best friend's unborn baby. "How about for the last time? I'm done with him. He didn't even have the courtesy to tell me to my face. The coward waited until I left this morning then packed his stuff and moved out. Fuck!"
"Nice language," said Chip, coming from the bedroom and eyeing the mess of plastic and metal on the living room carpet. "Is there a problem?"
"Stanley left," said Melony, her lips pouting.
Chip adjusted his tie and headed for the coffeemaker. "I'm sure he'll come back."
"Not this time." Kathy wished she had another phone so she could throw it, too. Sadness welled inside, but she fought tears. She'd wasted nearly three years of her life waiting for him to man up and agree to a lifetime commitment, but he couldn't. Better to be angry than sad. Rage gave her more control. "If he ever comes sniffing around me, I'll kill him."
"Hey, careful. You're talking to a lawyer." Chip poured coffee into a travel mug. "Something happens to him, you're already going to be number one on the suspect list. Don't go making threats that cement your motive."
"Blah-blah-blah." She turned to Melony. "I'm so pissed off."
"Probably better to call in sick. If you go off on Stewart, he'll fire your ass."
"Like I fuckin' care." Kathy needed to whip someone. Badly. A tear pooled on her lid and she swiped it into oblivion. Damn him.
"You care." Melony went to the door and took her raincoat from the coat rack. "You need this job to pay the bills, and nobody's going to pay you what the law firm does. I tell you what. You don't even have to call. I'll stop by Debra's office and let her know you won't be in. Okay?"
"Whatever." Her friend's offer really did help, though, and softened Kathy some. "I'm going to the club tonight. I need to punish someone. Anyone. Go with me."
Chip joined his wife at the door and accepted his coat from her. "You know we don’t do that stuff. Melony got out of that a year ago."
"Stuff?" Her anger flared anew. "I need this. I need a new submissive. And I need my friend to go and support me."
Melony shook her head. "I love you, Kathy. I really do. But this baby's due in two weeks. When I get home at the end of the day, all I want is to prop up my swollen feet and put a heating pad on my aching back. And besides, do you really think it's a good idea to go looking for someone the same night you got your heart broken? No, I'm sorry."
"My heart's not broken." Melony was sorry. Great. "Fine. I'll go by myself. Wouldn't be the first time."
Melony placed a hand on her burgeoning belly and heaved from her couch. "Geez, Kath, I think you dented my drywall." She went over and fingered the spot where it had hit. Sighing, she stood and placed a bracing palm at the small of her back. "I take it Stanley left you again?"
"Again?" Kathy clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. She didn't want to terrify her best friend's unborn baby. "How about for the last time? I'm done with him. He didn't even have the courtesy to tell me to my face. The coward waited until I left this morning then packed his stuff and moved out. Fuck!"
"Nice language," said Chip, coming from the bedroom and eyeing the mess of plastic and metal on the living room carpet. "Is there a problem?"
"Stanley left," said Melony, her lips pouting.
Chip adjusted his tie and headed for the coffeemaker. "I'm sure he'll come back."
"Not this time." Kathy wished she had another phone so she could throw it, too. Sadness welled inside, but she fought tears. She'd wasted nearly three years of her life waiting for him to man up and agree to a lifetime commitment, but he couldn't. Better to be angry than sad. Rage gave her more control. "If he ever comes sniffing around me, I'll kill him."
"Hey, careful. You're talking to a lawyer." Chip poured coffee into a travel mug. "Something happens to him, you're already going to be number one on the suspect list. Don't go making threats that cement your motive."
"Blah-blah-blah." She turned to Melony. "I'm so pissed off."
"Probably better to call in sick. If you go off on Stewart, he'll fire your ass."
"Like I fuckin' care." Kathy needed to whip someone. Badly. A tear pooled on her lid and she swiped it into oblivion. Damn him.
"You care." Melony went to the door and took her raincoat from the coat rack. "You need this job to pay the bills, and nobody's going to pay you what the law firm does. I tell you what. You don't even have to call. I'll stop by Debra's office and let her know you won't be in. Okay?"
"Whatever." Her friend's offer really did help, though, and softened Kathy some. "I'm going to the club tonight. I need to punish someone. Anyone. Go with me."
Chip joined his wife at the door and accepted his coat from her. "You know we don’t do that stuff. Melony got out of that a year ago."
"Stuff?" Her anger flared anew. "I need this. I need a new submissive. And I need my friend to go and support me."
Melony shook her head. "I love you, Kathy. I really do. But this baby's due in two weeks. When I get home at the end of the day, all I want is to prop up my swollen feet and put a heating pad on my aching back. And besides, do you really think it's a good idea to go looking for someone the same night you got your heart broken? No, I'm sorry."
"My heart's not broken." Melony was sorry. Great. "Fine. I'll go by myself. Wouldn't be the first time."
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He glanced at his watch then hit the phone button labeled Secretary. With only two hours left in the workday, he needed to get busy. He hoped she could stay late.
Beep-beep. "Yes, sir?"
She sounded young. Not the grandmotherly type he had in Boston. "Please come see me."
The door opened and he swiveled the chair. Before he could speak, however, his throat closed and his crotch tightened. Shit! Danger just walked in.
She had pale blond hair swept up in some fancy knot, held in place with what looked like chopsticks. It appeared too easy to quickly let down. Chocolate brown eyes caressed his face, or did he imagine it? God, did his pants bulge? He crossed a leg over his knee as a precaution.
Her skin was amazing. Flawless. Alabaster tinged in the right places with a hint of pink. Had to be make-up. Especially on her mouth. Geez, he couldn't help picturing those plump, glistening lips wrapping around the tip of his dick. He started to throb, and swallowed. Hard.
He wanted to look away, but couldn't take his eyes from her. Her long, ballerina neck arched for his kiss. Stop it! Firm, high, not-too-large breasts filled out her translucent blouse. Underneath, a lace camisole stretched, hinting at a shadow of pretty cleavage. Were her tits getting bigger by the second? Damn it, he was staring.
Dropping his gaze lower, he admired the form-fitting, cream-colored pencil skirt that hugged her tiny waist and emphasized the gentle flare of her hips. Young, but not too young. Definitely a woman. Damn, she was sweet.
Long runner's legs tapered to shapely ankles. Highlighted by cream colored, strappy high-heeled shoes, her narrow feet ended with French manicured toes he wanted more than anything to suck.
She cleared her throat, and he gave a guilty start. "Yes," he said and mentally slapped himself when his voice cracked. "I have a list of supplies. Can you see to it or is there someone else I should talk to?"
Her dark gaze raked him and he froze, terrified she would see his tenting trousers. Then he realized the edge of his desk blocked her view.
She held out a hand. "I'll take care of it for you."
Her voice sounded different in person. Less childlike. More husky, sexy. It swirled around him, and he leaned forward slightly. His eyes found her outstretched hand, his mind sending it straight to his dick. He stared, picturing the slender fingers taking hold of his hard length. His mouth went dry. Get control, man!
"The list?" she reminded.
"Yes, of course. The list." He sounded like an idiot. He ripped the page off the pad and handed it to her. She turned and headed for the door, her hips swaying seductively and her shoes making a sexy, slappy rhythm with her walk.
"Excuse me." He hadn't even asked her name. He was such a jerk. "What should I call you?"
"How about Hey you," she suggested with a straight face.
It took him a moment to realize she joked. Maybe he hadn't made a complete ass of himself. He chuckled.
"Call me Melony."
"Thank you, Melony." He tried to relax but she had him in tangles. "I'm Chip Albemarle. Could you get me a copy of Monday's hearing schedule, and the corresponding trial prep summary? I'd like to go over it this weekend."
"Yes, sir."
"Chip," he called as she closed the door.
That glass wall was going to cause him no end of problems with her sitting on the other side.
Beep-beep. "Yes, sir?"
She sounded young. Not the grandmotherly type he had in Boston. "Please come see me."
The door opened and he swiveled the chair. Before he could speak, however, his throat closed and his crotch tightened. Shit! Danger just walked in.
She had pale blond hair swept up in some fancy knot, held in place with what looked like chopsticks. It appeared too easy to quickly let down. Chocolate brown eyes caressed his face, or did he imagine it? God, did his pants bulge? He crossed a leg over his knee as a precaution.
Her skin was amazing. Flawless. Alabaster tinged in the right places with a hint of pink. Had to be make-up. Especially on her mouth. Geez, he couldn't help picturing those plump, glistening lips wrapping around the tip of his dick. He started to throb, and swallowed. Hard.
He wanted to look away, but couldn't take his eyes from her. Her long, ballerina neck arched for his kiss. Stop it! Firm, high, not-too-large breasts filled out her translucent blouse. Underneath, a lace camisole stretched, hinting at a shadow of pretty cleavage. Were her tits getting bigger by the second? Damn it, he was staring.
Dropping his gaze lower, he admired the form-fitting, cream-colored pencil skirt that hugged her tiny waist and emphasized the gentle flare of her hips. Young, but not too young. Definitely a woman. Damn, she was sweet.
Long runner's legs tapered to shapely ankles. Highlighted by cream colored, strappy high-heeled shoes, her narrow feet ended with French manicured toes he wanted more than anything to suck.
She cleared her throat, and he gave a guilty start. "Yes," he said and mentally slapped himself when his voice cracked. "I have a list of supplies. Can you see to it or is there someone else I should talk to?"
Her dark gaze raked him and he froze, terrified she would see his tenting trousers. Then he realized the edge of his desk blocked her view.
She held out a hand. "I'll take care of it for you."
Her voice sounded different in person. Less childlike. More husky, sexy. It swirled around him, and he leaned forward slightly. His eyes found her outstretched hand, his mind sending it straight to his dick. He stared, picturing the slender fingers taking hold of his hard length. His mouth went dry. Get control, man!
"The list?" she reminded.
"Yes, of course. The list." He sounded like an idiot. He ripped the page off the pad and handed it to her. She turned and headed for the door, her hips swaying seductively and her shoes making a sexy, slappy rhythm with her walk.
"Excuse me." He hadn't even asked her name. He was such a jerk. "What should I call you?"
"How about Hey you," she suggested with a straight face.
It took him a moment to realize she joked. Maybe he hadn't made a complete ass of himself. He chuckled.
"Call me Melony."
"Thank you, Melony." He tried to relax but she had him in tangles. "I'm Chip Albemarle. Could you get me a copy of Monday's hearing schedule, and the corresponding trial prep summary? I'd like to go over it this weekend."
"Yes, sir."
"Chip," he called as she closed the door.
That glass wall was going to cause him no end of problems with her sitting on the other side.
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Ebenoral hid in shadow as the Hanswald carriage rolled by. Who was the lovely stranger, and why did she cause both a burst of adrenaline and a stirring in his loins? When her coach had entered town, he'd sensed her arrival. Desire burned through him at the sight of her blond curls. Then her bright blue eyes had met his gaze, and he went instantly hard.
His cock still ached, though he'd regained control. A growl grumbled at the base of his throat. Okay, so he mostly gained control.
He needed a drink, damn it, not some ninny girl straight out of deportment school. His body disagreed. It took umbrage to his thinking of her as a girl. The memory of lush breasts and flaring hips pushed to the fore. She was all woman.
He turned on his heel and somehow managed a calm walk to the tree line edging the rear of town. From there, he raced through the woods at a speed still alarming to him. Ebenoral approached the castle-like manor his great grandfather had built. It belonged to him now, but at the price of his father's life. Too high a price.
He fought a tightness in his chest. Without conscious intent, he brought to mind the newcomer's sensual features. Her full lips. Her large eyes. Her blond curls caressing high cheekbones and alabaster skin.
The tightness faded, giving way to tense neck muscles and sweaty palms.
He feared what he might do. Feared waking once again with a sense of, but no memory of, horrors he'd committed. Feared the full moon in two days.
His cock still ached, though he'd regained control. A growl grumbled at the base of his throat. Okay, so he mostly gained control.
He needed a drink, damn it, not some ninny girl straight out of deportment school. His body disagreed. It took umbrage to his thinking of her as a girl. The memory of lush breasts and flaring hips pushed to the fore. She was all woman.
He turned on his heel and somehow managed a calm walk to the tree line edging the rear of town. From there, he raced through the woods at a speed still alarming to him. Ebenoral approached the castle-like manor his great grandfather had built. It belonged to him now, but at the price of his father's life. Too high a price.
He fought a tightness in his chest. Without conscious intent, he brought to mind the newcomer's sensual features. Her full lips. Her large eyes. Her blond curls caressing high cheekbones and alabaster skin.
The tightness faded, giving way to tense neck muscles and sweaty palms.
He feared what he might do. Feared waking once again with a sense of, but no memory of, horrors he'd committed. Feared the full moon in two days.
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Jorge Grauwolf passed under a stone arch marked Grauwolf Haus and marched his mount down a tree-lined drive. In the distance, his aunt's gray stone mansion sat like a jewel atop a sprawl of green lawn. At the center of a circle turnaround, a fountain sprayed water.
A servant in blue livery met him at a broad stone stairway leading to the main entrance. "Welcome, my lord."
The scent of wolf in the man allowed Jorge to relax for a moment. He knows me as werewolf. He knows me as Grauwolf. "Where is she?"
"Your aunt is at the back with her guests, my lord."
"Thank you." He dismounted and handed the servant his reins. He removed his black hat and greatcoat and handed them over, too. Then he headed around the mansion.
Laughter and sounds of multiple conversations carried on a breeze past the back corner of the west wing. He stepped onto the rear lawn.
Gentlemen in tan trousers, white and pastel striped jackets, pristine linen shirts and neat neckties mingled with ladies in flouncy day dresses. Some lounged on blankets under a spreading shade tree. Others played crocket, lawn tennis, or lawn bowling. More stood or sat in lounge chairs near a bank of glass windows. At the far end of the sitting area, Lady Grauwolf laughed at the top of her lungs at something said by a gentleman next to her.
More than half of the assembly emitted werewolf pheromones. The rest were human. How do these superior werewolves deign to associate with such frail creatures? He resisted an urge to curl his lip in disgust. Tugging his shirt cuffs past the edge of his jacket, he strode toward Lady Grauwolf.
She spotted him as he approached the seating area. "Jorge, what a pleasure to see you." Her eyes held a sadness he despised.
How dare she feel sorry for him? "Aunt Charlotta. Forgive me for intruding."
"It's no intrusion, dear. You're always welcome in my home." She offered him a broad smile and extended her hand.
He took it and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you." If you knew my purpose, you wouldn't be so accommodating.
"I haven't seen you since you were a wee boy. You've grown so handsome and tall. Are you in need of rest?" she asked. "I can have Steiner show you to a guestroom."
"I'm fine. I won't be staying."
She frowned. "Just passing through? It's getting late. Have you even had luncheon? Why don't you plan to stay the night? Join my party and have some refreshment."
He hesitated. Staying with her would lend him credibility and be far more comfortable than hunting his enemies from the woods. Especially if he took longer than a day to get close to the werewolf king. Also, taking a room at an inn might appear suspicious with family so close.
"Fine," he said. How close was her estate to the Malveaux castle?
A servant handed him a glass of punch with a bit of slush floating on top. He took a sip, glad for the iciness to cut through the heat building from sun on his black jacket and slacks.
"Let me introduce you. We have some delightful nobles here in Rift." She waved.
He didn't bother to look. A body moved, stirring a human scent on the breeze. He had no interest in meeting anyone of the lesser order. Then a mixture of orchid and Queen Anne's lace swirled in the moving air. Their perfume wrapped about his head and filled his senses. Breathing deeply, he faced the source.
Large brown eyes surrounded by long, black lashes and set against porcelain skin blinked beguilingly. A lush, reddish-pink mouth smiled without artifice. Black curls piled atop her head shined in the sunlight, and a few tendrils escaped to brush delicate cheeks and a long, slender throat.
He followed the line of her neck to a swell of ample breasts covered by a gathered bodice of lavender organza trimmed in white lace. A broad white ribbon hugged her ribs beneath the low-cut squared bodice, emphasizing the perfect, high mounds. Organza continued to her slipper-clad toes and sprouted a tiny bit of lace at the hem.
Lady Grauwolf offered a kind smile. "Jorge, please let me introduce you to our lovely Lady Yasmine Hanswald, daughter of Viscount Walden. Yasmine, this is my nephew, Lord Jorge Grauwolf, Marquis of Austral. Youel was his younger brother."
Her smiled faded. "I'm pleased to meet you, Lord Grauwolf. I'm truly sorry for your loss." Her dark eyes held concern.
He swallowed. Why didn't her consolation bother him? Her words actually comforted, which astounded him. She was a mere human. Hardly worth his notice.
"Thank you," he managed after too long a pause, equally astounded that he actually meant it. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Hanswald."
A servant in blue livery met him at a broad stone stairway leading to the main entrance. "Welcome, my lord."
The scent of wolf in the man allowed Jorge to relax for a moment. He knows me as werewolf. He knows me as Grauwolf. "Where is she?"
"Your aunt is at the back with her guests, my lord."
"Thank you." He dismounted and handed the servant his reins. He removed his black hat and greatcoat and handed them over, too. Then he headed around the mansion.
Laughter and sounds of multiple conversations carried on a breeze past the back corner of the west wing. He stepped onto the rear lawn.
Gentlemen in tan trousers, white and pastel striped jackets, pristine linen shirts and neat neckties mingled with ladies in flouncy day dresses. Some lounged on blankets under a spreading shade tree. Others played crocket, lawn tennis, or lawn bowling. More stood or sat in lounge chairs near a bank of glass windows. At the far end of the sitting area, Lady Grauwolf laughed at the top of her lungs at something said by a gentleman next to her.
More than half of the assembly emitted werewolf pheromones. The rest were human. How do these superior werewolves deign to associate with such frail creatures? He resisted an urge to curl his lip in disgust. Tugging his shirt cuffs past the edge of his jacket, he strode toward Lady Grauwolf.
She spotted him as he approached the seating area. "Jorge, what a pleasure to see you." Her eyes held a sadness he despised.
How dare she feel sorry for him? "Aunt Charlotta. Forgive me for intruding."
"It's no intrusion, dear. You're always welcome in my home." She offered him a broad smile and extended her hand.
He took it and kissed her knuckles. "Thank you." If you knew my purpose, you wouldn't be so accommodating.
"I haven't seen you since you were a wee boy. You've grown so handsome and tall. Are you in need of rest?" she asked. "I can have Steiner show you to a guestroom."
"I'm fine. I won't be staying."
She frowned. "Just passing through? It's getting late. Have you even had luncheon? Why don't you plan to stay the night? Join my party and have some refreshment."
He hesitated. Staying with her would lend him credibility and be far more comfortable than hunting his enemies from the woods. Especially if he took longer than a day to get close to the werewolf king. Also, taking a room at an inn might appear suspicious with family so close.
"Fine," he said. How close was her estate to the Malveaux castle?
A servant handed him a glass of punch with a bit of slush floating on top. He took a sip, glad for the iciness to cut through the heat building from sun on his black jacket and slacks.
"Let me introduce you. We have some delightful nobles here in Rift." She waved.
He didn't bother to look. A body moved, stirring a human scent on the breeze. He had no interest in meeting anyone of the lesser order. Then a mixture of orchid and Queen Anne's lace swirled in the moving air. Their perfume wrapped about his head and filled his senses. Breathing deeply, he faced the source.
Large brown eyes surrounded by long, black lashes and set against porcelain skin blinked beguilingly. A lush, reddish-pink mouth smiled without artifice. Black curls piled atop her head shined in the sunlight, and a few tendrils escaped to brush delicate cheeks and a long, slender throat.
He followed the line of her neck to a swell of ample breasts covered by a gathered bodice of lavender organza trimmed in white lace. A broad white ribbon hugged her ribs beneath the low-cut squared bodice, emphasizing the perfect, high mounds. Organza continued to her slipper-clad toes and sprouted a tiny bit of lace at the hem.
Lady Grauwolf offered a kind smile. "Jorge, please let me introduce you to our lovely Lady Yasmine Hanswald, daughter of Viscount Walden. Yasmine, this is my nephew, Lord Jorge Grauwolf, Marquis of Austral. Youel was his younger brother."
Her smiled faded. "I'm pleased to meet you, Lord Grauwolf. I'm truly sorry for your loss." Her dark eyes held concern.
He swallowed. Why didn't her consolation bother him? Her words actually comforted, which astounded him. She was a mere human. Hardly worth his notice.
"Thank you," he managed after too long a pause, equally astounded that he actually meant it. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Hanswald."
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What noise disturbed his slumber? The portcullis lifted!
Had his curse been lifted? Vanir heaved himself from bed, and trudged to his window. The portcullis had not moved since January. Running a hand over the rough chest he would never accept as his own, he issued a disappointed growl. If the curse remained, then who…what…entered his castle?
Sheets of rain hindered his visibility. Soon, the drops waned, and he discerned a figure moving through the outer bailey. A female figure. His salvation? Perhaps another means of increasing his torment.
Sighing, he wrapped a fur about his shoulders and stared as she passed from the outer bailey to the inner. She seemed to have no purpose as she meandered along Trade Row. Who was she? Had she come here for a reason or had she simply stumbled upon his nightmare?
Plaited hair hung past her hips, and her clothing seemed plain. She stepped to his inner bailey and her gaze followed the stone walls of his donjon. Her upturned face revealed large eyes and truly fair features.
His stomach dropped. She had come to increase his despair.
Clamping his jaw until his teeth ached, he planted fists upon the window's stone embrasure. A companion for the first time in six months. Why did she have to be a beauty? A lovely maiden would shun his hideous countenance. Scream from one look at him. Despise his presence within his own walls.
From the gateway, metal against metal rang out, echoing within the solid walls of his baileys. Already she ran for the exit. Not a good sign.
Had his curse been lifted? Vanir heaved himself from bed, and trudged to his window. The portcullis had not moved since January. Running a hand over the rough chest he would never accept as his own, he issued a disappointed growl. If the curse remained, then who…what…entered his castle?
Sheets of rain hindered his visibility. Soon, the drops waned, and he discerned a figure moving through the outer bailey. A female figure. His salvation? Perhaps another means of increasing his torment.
Sighing, he wrapped a fur about his shoulders and stared as she passed from the outer bailey to the inner. She seemed to have no purpose as she meandered along Trade Row. Who was she? Had she come here for a reason or had she simply stumbled upon his nightmare?
Plaited hair hung past her hips, and her clothing seemed plain. She stepped to his inner bailey and her gaze followed the stone walls of his donjon. Her upturned face revealed large eyes and truly fair features.
His stomach dropped. She had come to increase his despair.
Clamping his jaw until his teeth ached, he planted fists upon the window's stone embrasure. A companion for the first time in six months. Why did she have to be a beauty? A lovely maiden would shun his hideous countenance. Scream from one look at him. Despise his presence within his own walls.
From the gateway, metal against metal rang out, echoing within the solid walls of his baileys. Already she ran for the exit. Not a good sign.
