Captive (21 page)

STEAM CLOUDS BILLOWED
around Tristan and Sarah as they sank into the hot water of the bath. Tristan was
grateful for the quiet and privacy offered by the thick heat of the room. He needed
to feel apart from the madness that his world had become, even if it was only for
a little while.

He settled onto the bench in the deeper section of the bath while Sarah submerged,
soaking her hair and face. She languidly floated in the water while Tristan watched
steam silhouette her body like silken gauze. His gaze followed her movements and he
resisted the urge to go to her and take her in his arms. Tristan regarded the intensity
of his feelings with deep wariness. He didn’t deny their existence, but he wasn’t
entirely comfortable claiming them either. To want someone as much as he wanted Sarah
left Tristan uneasy. His life had always been carefully controlled; what he felt for
Sarah was unpredictable, almost wild, both addictive and alarming.

“I am a fan of these baths.” Sarah swam up to Tristan and nestled in the curve of
his arm. Tristan pulled her close, running his fingers over her wet skin. The water
cradled her breasts, and Tristan drew her onto his lap so he could fondle them. His
cock grew hard at the thought, seemingly never sated even after having so recently
taken her.

Sarah shifted restlessly against Tristan, but not in a way that signaled she was feeling
amorous.

Reining in his ardor, Tristan asked, “What is it?”

“Seamus told me to ask about your parents,” Sarah said.

“Seamus said that?” Tristan’s arms tightened around Sarah. Why would the old wolf
be pushing Sarah to learn about his past?

“Yes.” Sarah turned so she could look at him. “What do you think he wants me to know
about them?”

“I’m not sure.” Tristan sighed. He usually avoided giving too much thought to his
childhood. “He was never fond of my parents, but then again, neither was I—at least
not of my father. Truthfully, Seamus took care of me more than either of them.”

“Why is that?”

Tristan leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Sarah’s damp mouth. He needed the
reassurance of her closeness before he traversed any further into this conversation.

“How much do you know about Keeper lineage?” Tristan asked.

“Very little.” Sensing his uneasiness, Sarah wrapped her arms around Tristan’s neck.
“I know that Bosque Mar, the Harbinger, made the first Keepers way back when and there
have been more ever since.”

“Not many more,” Tristan told her. “We keep our numbers small so we don’t have to
share too much power. And we only have children as we are bidden.”

“As you’re bidden?” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “You have children when you’re told to.
Who does the bidding?”

“Bosque.”

She drew back from him, and Tristan saw fear in her eyes. “He has that much control
over your lives?”

“Those of us he deems important enough.” Tristan shrugged to hide the tension building
beneath his ribs.

“And what makes one Keeper more important than another?” Sarah asked. “You aren’t
all the same?”

Tristan shook his head. “Our world is very hierarchical, much like the one in which
we first came to power. Bosque favors Keepers who can trace their lineage back to
Eira, and demands they carry on his legacy in this realm.”

“And you can?”

“Yes.” Tristan tangled his fingers in Sarah’s wet hair. “Eira is my grandmother.”

He felt Sarah tense. “Your grandmother was the first Keeper.”

“And my parents married and produced an heir when Bosque dictated that they must,”
Tristan said quickly. “No sooner.”

“Were they in love?” Sarah frowned at him.

“No,” Tristan answered. “They came from the proper families.”

Sarah touched his cheek. “That’s awful.”

He laughed roughly. “I suppose it is.”

“Not to get too Freudian,” Sarah said carefully, “but you don’t believe your parents
didn’t love
you,
do you? Because I’m sure they must have.”

“I’m not so sure,” Tristan replied, smiling at how convincing Sarah had tried to sound.
“My mother did, but she was always brusque with me—concerned that I not be coddled.
My father treated me like a business transaction. He had very little to do with raising
me. If I give them the benefit of the doubt, I’d say that perhaps they didn’t want
to encourage me to become attached because they knew they weren’t long for the world.
And I’d be alone.”

Sarah shivered and Tristan pulled her onto his lap. She tucked her head beneath his
chin.

“Will you always be alone here?” Sarah asked him.

“Bosque sends visitors on occasion,” Tristan replied. “But no one will come to stay
until—” He stopped, not wanting to upset her, but Sarah finished the thought for him.

“Until he sends you a wife.”

“Yes.”

Sarah became very quiet.

“I don’t want it,” Tristan murmured. “I’ve never wanted it.”

“What do you want?” Sarah’s lips brushed his throat when she spoke.

Tristan pushed her away from his chest and tipped her chin up. “I want you.”

He bent to kiss her, but Sarah turned her face away.

“Tristan, I can’t be that to you,” she said. “I love you. But I won’t become a Keeper.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Tristan said quietly. “Even if I was, Bosque would never
allow it.”

“But before now you’ve asked me to stay,” Sarah said.

“I know.” Tristan dropped his gaze. “That was before . . . when it was all part of
a game.”

He glanced at Sarah, expecting her fury, but she was nodding. “I understand. It was
a game for me, too . . . at first.”

Relieved, Tristan continued. “I told you that Keepers have children when bidden, but
we aren’t like Guardians, whose reproduction is wholly regulated by Keepers.”

“I don’t follow.” Sarah tilted her head, waiting for his reply.

“Accidental pregnancies happen,” Tristan said. “Keepers elope. It’s rare, but there
are those who have risked Bosque’s anger to pursue their own desires.”

“And what happens to them?” Sarah asked.

“It depends.” Tristan smiled ruefully. “Sometimes on Bosque’s mood, sometimes on the
offender. He’s more likely to let things slide with the lower-ranking Keepers. There
will always be a punishment, but its severity ranges widely.”

“All right, but what does that have to do with you?”

“It has more to do with my cousin, Marise, but it affects me,” Tristan answered. “Marise
Bane can trace her lineage back to Eira, just as I can. And Bosque had specific designs
for her family’s future. But it was rumored that Marise had fallen in love with another
Keeper in Vail, where she lived, a woman: Lumine Nightshade.”

“That’s quite the rumor.” Sarah raised an eyebrow.

“Even more so in the nineteenth century, which was when they met,” Tristan said. “How
they were discovered and what Bosque did about it is all speculation. But the relationship
was quashed and Marise rebelled in the way she knew would hurt Bosque the most. She
eloped before he could marry her off.”

“With who?”

“With a literal gold-digging card player at one of the Colorado mining camps,” Tristan
said. “And now Efron Bane is one of us—though Bosque still dislikes him.”

Sarah laughed. “Who knew the lives of Keepers were so scandalous?”

Tristan smiled, but his mirth quickly faded. “Obviously Marise is much, much older
than I am. All of this had taken place before I was born, but once I was, Bosque made
it clear that no such mishaps would be taking place in my future. That’s why I’m on
this island.”

“You’re fucking Rapunzel,” Sarah said, rather stunned.

“Yes.” Tristan sighed. “Yes, I am.”

Her startled expression became troubled. “So you were sent here with the aim of keeping
you free of worldly entanglements.”

Tristan nodded.

“There’s something I need to ask you.” Sarah shifted away from him, anxious.

“Of course.” Tristan watched her agitation with growing alarm. “What is it, Sarah?”
Tristan grasped her upper arms. “You’re trembling.”

“I . . . I was sent here because we learned that something important to the Keepers
was hidden in this castle,” Sarah whispered. “My mission was to find it.”

“That’s what you want to know?” Tristan’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “There’s
nothing hidden here.”

Sarah rested her palm against Tristan’s chest. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“You need better spies.”

“It’s not a thing, Tristan,” Sarah said slowly. “It’s you.”

Tristan’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“I think it means I need to get you off this island.”

He released her arms and climbed out of the bath. “That’s impossible.”

“Have you ever tried to leave?” Sarah asked as Tristan wrapped a towel around his
waist.

Bitterness crept up Tristan’s throat. “Do you even have to ask?”

He didn’t want to think about how many times he’d imagined what it would have been
like to leave the island and seek another life. But he’d always known such thoughts
were fantasies, indulged at one’s own peril.

Sarah exited the bath and came to face him. Water dripped down her naked body and
Tristan felt his cock stir again. The determination on her face made him certain that
he needed to dissuade her from this nascent plan.

“Leaving the island isn’t an option.” He handed her a towel so he could focus on their
conversation.

“You can’t know that,” Sarah replied.

“Of course I can,” Tristan said, feeling a twinge of disappointment when Sarah covered
herself with the towel. “My entire life is designed around my not leaving the island.”

Sarah shook her head. “But you’ve never been in this position before.”

“What position?”

“You have help.” Sarah put her hands on her hips. “I can help you.”

Tristan laughed. “You. As in, my prisoner.”

Sarah’s face fell and Tristan immediately regretted his words. “I shouldn’t have said
that, Sarah. It’s just a difficult subject for me. I can’t leave. No matter how much
I want to.”

“It’s ridiculous to abandon the idea out of hand,” Sarah shot back. “And yes, I know
I’m your prisoner. But if you took a moment to think this through, you’d see that
it’s not just me who would help us.”

Tristan frowned at her and Sarah threw up her hands in exasperation. “Seamus! Seamus
obviously wants to help you get out of here. Why else would he have me digging into
your past?”

“Seamus is a Guardian,” Tristan said. “Their loyalty is absolute.”

“Perhaps,” Sarah replied. “And I know that’s why Keepers use them as soldiers, but
in this case I’d say Seamus’s loyalty isn’t to the Keepers. It’s to you.”

Tristan drew a long breath. “Maybe.”

Sarah grasped Tristan’s hands, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Talk to him. Please.
That’s all I’m asking.”

“That alone could be a great risk,” Tristan answered. And the risk wasn’t to him.
Bosque wouldn’t kill someone of Eira’s line; Tristan knew that much. But he’d eliminate
Sarah without hesitation.

“Think about who Seamus has been to you, Tristan,” Sarah urged. “Do you really think
he’d do anything that would cause you harm?”

“Fine.” Tristan leaned down and kissed her gently. “I’ll talk to him. But I can’t
promise anything more.”

“I’m not asking for anything more.” Sarah smiled against his lips. “Yet.”

Tristan left the baths before Sarah, who decided she needed time in the heat and steam
to actually relax. Despite the soothing touch of the water, Sarah found it difficult
to release the tension that knotted her limbs.

Sarah didn’t doubt that Tristan loved her. But when it came to abandoning everything
he’d ever known, she worried that his love might not be enough. Sarah knew what she
was asking of him: that he give up his world in order to join hers. Of course Tristan
would balk at the suggestion. Even if he did claim that he wanted no part of his Keeper
inheritance, joining the ranks of his longtime enemies was another matter altogether.

It would take time to persuade Tristan that leaving was their only option. The idea
of extending her stay at Castle Tierney didn’t appeal to Sarah, but she didn’t see
another way forward.

Seamus might at least give Tristan a nudge in the right direction.

Sarah knew there was another option: she could tell Tristan about the bodies in the
dungeon, about the macabre feasts that Lana and Owen indulged in unbeknownst to their
master.

That revelation would make Tristan revile his life in the castle even more, but Sarah
was reluctant to play that winning card. Though she preferred to tell herself that
she kept this secret because it would devastate Tristan to know the torment of innocents
that had been taking place in his home, Sarah knew that protecting him from that knowledge
was only part of her hesitation.

I want him to choose me.

Sarah sank deeper into the tub, so only her eyes and forehead cleared the water’s
surface, as if to hide from the embarrassing admission.