Fervor (The Fervor Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

Lightning had flown from his skin!

Caprice heard his voice, a deep scrape just above a whisper. “I can’t see.
I can’t see!”

One step at a time, he lumbered forward, unsteady on his feet. He grabbed the nearest guard, used him for support, and then tossed him aside. He lifted his nose high, as if scenting the air, and each time he finished, he’d recalibrate and came one step closer to her.

Spotting Addy behind the curtain, Caprice picked up her skirts and
ran.
Never in her life had she traveled faster than a slow walk. Now she felt the danger and knew,
knew
deep in her heart he was after her. The thought caused a shiver to run down her spine.

“No!” His deep voice boomed, shaking the glass dome above their heads.

Oh gods!
He was talking about her, only her. One word thrilled her straight to her heart, but it also terrified her. She didn’t plan on pausing to figure out which of the two emotions was stronger. Reaching Addy, she grabbed her by her skirt and ran toward the door on the far side of the space. The closest exit lay far across the courtyard, and it would leave them exposed to the giant and injured guards. Glancing toward the throne, she was grateful her father was long gone.

A few of the Vendri still remained, frozen to the spot or in a heap on the floor, never having been exposed to any real danger in their isolated kingdom. Nothing in their long lives had prepared them for this melee. They were pathetic, unable to move even to save themselves. Well,
she
wanted to live and she’d make damn sure Addy survived as well. Princess or not, she would get them out of here.

Firming her shoulders, they raced for their lives, just making it through the doorway moments before she heard another roar rock the castle.

‡

T
houghts bounced around
her brain at a ferocious rate, so fast she could hardly focus on only one. She fought for calm. That man! She’d never seen anyone like him, so large, so
beautiful.

Caprice remained in her room through the night and into the day. A guard had informed her late last night that the wedding ceremony was delayed due to the attack. It would proceed this evening at midnight, per her father’s orders. The prisoner had eventually been subdued and placed in the dungeon.

Addy had left the room sometime in the middle of the night. Now it was early morning, just before the distant sun rose. Caprice had paced for hours, not bothering to remove her gown. The pain was intense with it on, but she couldn’t imagine trying to manipulate the hundreds of tiny buttons that ran down the back to remove it. The agony would probably render her unconscious.

The hours before sunrise were the quietest time of the day. The drudges slept late, catching a few hours sleep before they rose to prepare the castle for the coming night. Most of the nobility didn’t rise until after sunset, remaining awake during the coldest times of the day. This was the lull when everyone slept.

Where was Addy? Hours had passed without her maid appearing, and she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that the Pre-Dom had something to do with her disappearance.

If that bitch laid one hand on Addy, she was going to take her head; she didn’t care how important her father thought she was. She couldn’t shake the buzz from her encounter with the giant. It had felt… so good, too good, but she must calm her beating heart.

The first place she would look was the Pre-Dom’s quarters. A shiver raced down her spine as she ascended the steps toward the Pre-Dom’s domain. Her gait slowed. She’d never been to this section of the castle before. The faint trickle of water could be heard and a damp, wet, smell assaulted her nose.

Dripping water? That meant heat. Did the Pre-Dom dare to heat her private quarters? Another rule broken. Technically, the Pre-Dom was still a slave, a slave whose status had risen considerably over the years, but a slave nonetheless. Such an offense could be punished by banishment or even death. Who was she kidding? No one had been banished in a century.
Except my mother.
But she’d left of her own devices. No one had forced her.

No one made her leave her only daughter…

Rounding the corner, she spotted an open door.
Please gods, let this be her room. I don’t want to stay down here a second longer than needed.
She approached silently, laying one hand against the jamb.

Inside the chamber, lay rows of manacles and chains. Whips and ropes, some with metal edges, others with feathers tied to the tips, lined the walls. A repetitive slapping sound tickled her ears. Like leather hitting flesh. Would the Pre-Dom dare flog Addy in her personal quarters?

Slipping through the door, she jumped to the left, hiding behind a half wall that separated the small sitting room from the main part of the bedroom. Her new vantage point gave her a view of the whole right side of the room.

A heavy scent of artificial flowers and incense tainted the air. Silky material coated the walls, large tapestries of deep, blue and red. A massive bed dominated the space, a mound of pillows and blankets piled high. She could only guess at the “activities” that took place in that monstrosity.

That sound began again, reminding her of when she was a child assisting the morning cook in pounding the dough for the daily bread. If she wanted to catch a glance she would have to lean forward, possibly exposing herself.

Screwing up her courage, she peeked around the wall. What she saw next almost made her vomit. She bit the inside of her lip hard to keep from reacting.

A man with fair skin and lighter hair was tied and trussed against the wall like a stuffed snow-pig. He stood naked, hands tied behind his back, his face smashed into the red silk that ran down the wall. Blindfolded and gagged, he pressed his face further into the silk and raised his bare ass in the air.

She knew who he was in an instant—the only person it could be: her fiancé—Prince Gair Penduline of the Glissante.

Directly behind him stood the Pre-Dom, in nothing but tight leather adorned with spiky metal that ran dead center down the outfit. The leather hugged her curvy shape to perfection. A silky, red scarf twined around her neck, covering Caprice’s “reminder.” Holding a black riding whip high in the air, the Pre-Dom brought it down with a crisp whack against the Prince’s backside again, and again, causing angry red stripes to crisscross his tiny, white ass.

He moaned in pleasure.
My gods, he wants more. He likes it!

Plastering herself flat against the wall, her heart beating a million miles per second, she covered her mouth with her hand. She didn’t… Wasn’t… How do you react to something like that? A hysterical laugh snuck up until she realized she was expected to marry this man, to lay with him—the dreaded sheet between them—and create the next generation of pureblood Glissante.

There must be something she could do! Surely if she explained to her father, he would understand. Do
something.
But how would she even broach the subject with him?

She had her answers. Too many in fact, but at least it looked like Addy wasn’t caught up in this mess. As she turned to go, she caught a flash reflected in a gold-plaited mirror. Her heart dropped.

Sitting in a chair, a hand rubbing back and forth across his mouth with a look in his eyes she’d never seen, was her father. Fully clothed, he sat, his eyes roaming, jumping, soaking in the action. He saw everything.

He knows.

Just as fast, he strode across the room. Holding her breath, Caprice waited. He passed just feet in front of her to get to the moaning couple. Within seconds, she heard the Pre-Dom shriek then laugh hysterically. The prince groaned louder.

To escape, she had to step forward then angle back toward the door. Unable to keep her eyes off the threesome, she caught one last glimpse. Her father stood behind the Pre-Dom, bejeweled pants around his ankles, grinding into her back, his hands roaming over her skin and through her hair. The Pre-Dom had come up hard behind the prince—the small spikes of her clothing buried deep into the prince’s back. He arched and then shuddered, slumping away from the wall. Walking forward, the king faced the prince, his erection eye level with the writhing idiot.

I can’t…

Finally free, she grabbed the doorjamb and paused, placing a hand against her stomach, the bite of her girdle almost making her faint. Her father… Her father had touched the Pre-Dom. He had touched her! Which meant… He’d lied. His touch hadn’t frozen her, hadn’t killed her with cold. Could he control the
freeze
as she could?

All the years, she’d begged to touch him, hug him, just sit on his lap, and she’d been turned away because it would have been too dangerous. As a child, she’d been told her skin was too sensitive for the king’s pure blood. All of it lies!

Biting her palm to keep from reacting, she pulled at the lessons of her youth, wrapping the cold around her like a blanket. She still had a purpose, a mission she must carry out. Addy was her first priority, and Caprice realized there was one place she still hadn’t searched, the dungeon.

Caprice straightened—and ran. Ran and ran as the scream she couldn’t release, couldn’t share with the kingdom, blasted through her mind, growing louder with each step.

‡

A
run came awake
with a start, the pounding in his head only slightly worse than the pain in his side. Damn it! He recognized that one, all right: a set of bruised ribs.

Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus in on the swirling stonework. Bleak, gray concrete lined the room, only interrupted by a wooden door framed by metal. No windows, no furniture, with only the light filtering through slats in the door illuminating the front of the room.

His vision had returned, for now. He hoped it was permanent. This trip was turning into one nightmare after another. What the hell had happened back there? Sight, an energy gripping him, no sight… Memory slammed back. He’d found her, the woman who would set him free, who would ignite the
fervor
and finally allow him to come into his full power.

After he’d seen her, tension eddied inside him. The swirling energy felt like a swarming hive of bees stinging his skin. But with the pain came power, and then… nothing. He’d lost his sight. Upon waking, his vision had returned, and there was no additional pain besides the beating from the mealy-mouthed guards. If he hadn’t gone blind, he’d be halfway back to the Bicullis by now.
Nine hells.
He had to get home, had to help his kingdom! But before he left, he’d have to find some protection from the cold. He’d practically frozen his balls off in this gods-forsaken place.

But what had happened to him? Never in his long life, or the lives of any of his people, had the
fervor
manifested in this way. The Fiera were known for their brawn, and when they met their mate, they came into full strength, gaining the power of two men. They weren’t rendered blind. But still, he knew. She was the
one.

How had he ended up in that cage in the first place?

All he could remember was being thrown from the Bicullis. Seconds after landing face first in the snow, the bite of metal had slammed into his skull. The pain of the ambush lingered. If not for the damn portal closing the instant he’d gone through—and the cold, the bitter cold that had robbed him of breath—he’d have decimated the group that had taken him by surprise.

Disappointment overwhelmed him, not because of his imprisonment, but because all the hope he’d placed in the Bicullis was gone. His people could never come here; they’d die from exposure to the cold within hours. They’d spent hundreds of generations acclimating to the heat.

He tried to lift his hand in irritation but he got about two inches before his wrist jerked back. Attempting to rise, he pulled at his neck and he hit the same problem. Peering down, he realized he was flat on his back, chained, metal straps circling his neck, wrists and ankles. The restraints only allowed him a few inches of give from the slab.
Damn!
He could not catch a break today.