Obsessed (21 page)

The Sorcerer had come early for her and her halias.

Ranelle knees threatened to give out and she coughed as her lungs filled with smoke. Before she had the chance to scramble down from the platform, strong arms grabbed her legs and flung her over a massive shoulder.

Ranelle fought her rising panic as she hung over the muscled shoulder of the man who had grabbed her from the dancing platform. As her rescuer worked his way through the tavern’s screaming mob, she coughed from the smoke, struggling to breathe. Her hair covered her face, her eyes burned and watered, and she could scarcely think in all the commotion.

The heat of the fire grew more intense, but the man slipped through unseen gaps in the crowd, as silent and swift as a spirit in the mist. Ranelle’s nose was pressed against his tunic, and even through the acrid stench of smoke she caught his masculine smell along with the scent of pine and forest breezes. His body felt warm and solid against her own softness, and despite the terror of the fire she felt safe—that she could trust this man.

Without a doubt, Ranelle knew this was the man who had been watching her.

Thumps on the tavern rooftop jarred Ranelle, sending new bursts of fear through her. The Sorcerer’s beasts were so close they might pluck her through holes they now tore in the ceiling and carry her away. Irani shrieks split the night as Ranelle and the man neared the door of the tavern. His hold around her hips grew tighter yet, as though he had heard her frightened thoughts.

The man plunged out of the tavern and into the chaotic night. Ranelle breathed in the clear air and with one hand shoved her hair from her eyes, trying to see what was happening. Flames from the burning tavern illuminated the village—and lit upl a winged beast heading straight at them.

“Watch out!” Ranelle screamed.

Before the words were even out of her mouth, the man had crouched in a fluid motion, dodging the flying creature. In a flash he set her on the ground several feet from the tavern. “Stay,” he commanded, his sapphire eyes seizing her, his voice deep and captivating.

For a moment Ranelle remained motionless, mesmerized by the masculine beauty of the man as he slid his bow from his shoulder, nocked a feathered arrow into it, and pointed it toward the oncoming irani. His cheekbones were high, his jaw strong and his lips firm. Golden hair flowed down his back, and his sleeveless tunic displayed powerful biceps that rippled as he drew the bow in a movement so smooth that it appeared effortless.

His aim was true and the beast shrieked and tumbled to the ground. He nocked another arrow to his bow as more winged creatures circled the tavern and flew toward them, as though aware of Ranelle’s presence.

The realization snapped Ranelle from her fascination with her rescuer. She was putting him in danger by being there.

She had to sneak away without the beasts seeing her. Had to get to the cottage to warn Tierra.

Blocking her thoughts and mind with her tightest control, Ranelle eased to her feet and slipped into a darkened alleyway. Worn cobblestones were rough beneath her bare feet as she headed down the road, a cool breeze chilling her through her thin gown. She took great gulps of fresh air, her heart pounding as she hurried and tried to stay out of the moonlight and cling to the shadows as long as she could.

When she could no longer remain in the protection of the darkened village streets, she began to run, knowing that she could now be clearly seen in the moonlit night. In no time she reached the path to their seaside cottage where sharp rocks bit into her tender soles. Mindless of the pain, Ranelle ran faster, her breasts bouncing and her feet flying.

Screams and shouts still came from the village, but they were distant now, almost drowned out by the sound of waves crashing against the shore below the path. She hoped she had been right about the dark stranger she had seen near Liana, and prayed the man had rescued her halia and would ensure her safety.

Ranelle wiped the back of her hand against her soot-covered cheek and tried to quell the fear surging through her soul.

Almost to the cottage. Almost to Tierra.

An irani shriek came from behind Ranelle, so close it chilled her very marrow.

Terror flooded her in icy wave after icy wave. She paused to look over her shoulder—

Only to see one of the winged beasts behind her.

Oh gods. What had she been thinking? She’d led the irani straight toward Tierra.

Ranelle screamed and dodged the creature.

Ground gave from beneath her feet.

Another scream tore from her throat as she tumbled down the steep hillside toward the shore below. Dirt and sand filled her mouth as she fought to grab onto anything to slow her descent.

Everything slid by in a blur. Clothing ripped. Her skin burned.

For an instant she was airborne—almost as though she was flying—and then she slammed onto the sand, flat on her back. She couldn’t breathe—the very air knocked from her lungs.

Stunned, she lay on the sand, her body aching and burning. But as she saw the irani circling above, a burst of fear gave her the strength to move. As she spat sand and dirt from her mouth, Ranelle scrambled to her feet. She had to get out of the open—but to where?

The irani shrieked again, spurring Ranelle forward. Her feet sank into sand as she ran, the shore’s rainbow hues glittering in the moonlight. Wind lifted her hair and rushed through the tears in her clothing. Even in her panic, she realized her gown had been shredded in the fall.

Skin on her back began to crawl and she chanced a glance over her shoulder.

The beast was mere feet from her, its talons outstretched.

Ranelle screamed and stumbled over a chunk of driftwood.

Claws clamped around her shoulders and lifted her into the air.

* * * * *

Jalen dispatched the last of the irani bastards, slung his bow over his shoulder and turned to find Ranelle—gone.

Shock rendered him near speechless. Had she ignored his command? The power in his voice had never failed him before.

“Goddess bless,” he muttered at he searched the throng of villagers with his senses. How had she vanished without his knowledge? Even if someone had plucked her from the street, he should have known instantly.

The shriek of an irani advancing on its prey echoed from outside Fiorn, followed by a feminine scream. Jalen’s blood heated.

Ranelle.

He dodged through the crowded village streets on feet as swift and silent as the wind.

Jalen wasted no time chastising himself for his failure, instead concentrating on reaching Ranelle before the irani did. In a matter of moments he arrived at the path to the women’s cottage.

His heart nearly ceased to beat.

The irani had already snatched Ranelle from the shore. It held her tight in its claws and was bearing her toward the Sorcerer’s fortress. The loathsome beast was too high in the air for Jalen to risk shooting down without the chance that the maiden would fall to her death.

Pain wrenched his chest—a pain unlike any he had felt before. By the goddess’s gifts, why did this defeat tear at him so? Had Ranelle somehow bewitched him?

A light sweat broke out on his golden skin, despite the night’s chill. Jalen clenched and unclenched his fists, sucking in the sea’s briny air and trying to clear his thoughts as he watched Ranelle’s and the irani’s forms grow further away. The confusion that clouded Jalen’s senses was alien to him, and he sought to comprehend its meaning with every fiber of his being.

The enrli symbol at his forehead and the one above his cock flared with sudden heat.

Blood rushed through his head as he understood.

Ranelle was his heartmate.

And he had just allowed the Sorcerer to capture her.

* * * * *

A steady dripping sound echoed in Ranelle’s mind. Her head throbbed and her body ached as she blinked and attempted to place the sound. She couldn’t hear the ocean, or the sounds of her halias stirring in their cottage.

Dark—everything was so dark. Surely she must be dreaming. In this nightmare she was shackled, her hands high above her head, her legs spread wide.

As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, walls came into focus. Walls made of crumbling stone and moss. And in the midst of the stone was a door. A wooden door with iron bars across a small window. She glanced at her clothing to see her normally sparkling gishla gown filthy and torn, exposing her breasts and almost falling from her body.

Ranelle shook her head, trying to shatter the nightmare, but the motion only made the throb in her head increase to a fierce pounding. The dripping noise continued, each drop like hammer against stone to her aching head. A stench nearly overwhelmed her senses, the malodor of human waste and rotting food, and smoke on her clothing. Her stomach churned and she fought against the bile rising in her throat.

A flicker of remembrance came to her—she had been running from…an irani.

Her skin chilled and her heart moved to her throat as the memory returned. The beast’s talons clamping onto her shoulders, snatching her up, and carrying her to Zanden’s fortress.

Ah, gods. Ranelle sagged against her bonds. The heavy chains rattled in the eerie silence, the cold metal cutting into her soft flesh.

The sound of boots against stone rang out, and Ranelle’s attention snapped toward the noise. The lump in her throat grew larger and her limbs trembled as she tried to straighten and prepare to face whoever—or whatever—might come through the door.

Light glowed outside her prison, becoming stronger and stronger as the boot steps came closer and then stopped before her door. A shadow wavered, followed by a rattle and a thump, and then hinges creaked as the door swung slowly outward.

Ranelle held her breath as a shadowy form stepped into the room…a large form, most certainly a man. She blinked against the light, unable to make out the man’s features. A harsh scent, like burnt sugar, stung her nose as he settled the torch in a wall bracket and then turned to her. The stench was somehow familiar.

She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. The man gave her a sardonic smile, and she saw that he would easily be considered handsome if not for the evil glint in his black eyes. Dark hair reached his shoulders and he was clothed from head to toe in black leather.

The man gave a soft laugh. “How you have grown, little magpie.”

Magpie? Ranelle’s eyes widened as she sought to make sense of what he had said. The name sounded almost familiar, as though a tiny part of her memory recognized it. “Who are you?” she asked, her words dry and rasping.

He gave an arrogant smile. “Most people call me Zanden.”

A low moan escaped Ranelle’s lips, the ache in her head increasing.

The Sorcerer.

With a smirk he stepped closer and Ranelle fought to keep from flinching. His sickening burnt sugar odor almost caused her to gag. She gasped as he reached up, caressed her exposed breast and ran his thumb over her nipple, and it hardened in response.

Mortified from her body’s reaction, Ranelle tried to draw away, but could not so much as move as tight as her bonds were. “S-stop,” she said, heat rushing to her face.

He chuckled as he came even closer, brought his free hand to her other breast, and stroked both her nipples. “Ah, but you seem desperate for attention. Stop? Are you certain?”

Revulsion flooded her, so intense it radiated from her very being. She had to make him stop. But how could she, without her dance?

A flash of memory came to her, of her anger with Stefan and him snatching his hand away.

Perhaps she did not need her dance after all.

Using all her focus, she called upon her magic, hoping it would work even though she had no way to move. The power stirred within her chest, spiraling into a tight knot ’til she released it, allowing it to flow through her body in a burst of heat.

The Sorcerer’s hands stilled on her breasts and he frowned. Ranelle struggled to maintain her concentration while blocking her mind to him, trying to force the beast to release her.

Zanden’s eyes narrowed. Ranelle almost went limp with relief as he stepped back, dropping his arms to his sides. “Your thoughts…why am I blind to you?” he murmured. “You don’t have your mother’s powers…yet the time draws near.”

Ranelle swallowed, hard. “Mother’s powers?”

“Later.” The Sorcerer gave a slight shake of his head, his ebony hair brushing his shoulders. “Where is my destined mate? What do you know of the Tanzinite maiden?”

With effort, Ranelle worked to keep her focus while continuing to mask her thoughts. “I have no knowledge of where Liana might be.”

“And the redheaded wench?” Zanden grated his teeth, loud enough for Ranelle to hear.

A flare of relief went through Ranelle at the knowledge that neither of her halias had been captured. She raised her chin and glared at the Sorcerer. “Even if I knew where either of my heart-sisters were, I would never tell you.”

To her surprise, the Sorcerer smiled—yet it wasn’t a pleasant expression. “It shall be a pleasure to tame you, little magpie.”

He raised his hand and made a pinching gesture in the air. Pain shot through Ranelle’s breast, as though cruel fingers had twisted her nipple. With a gasp, she pulled back against her bonds.

Zanden chuckled and grabbed the torch from its bracket. “Sleep well.” In the next moment he vanished through the doorway, the door closing behind him with an unseen force. A grating noise told her the door had been locked from the outside. The room grew darker as the torchlight faded, the Sorcerer’s boot steps growing fainter as he strode away.

For one moment she wondered if she should have stayed near the golden-haired man who had been following her, protecting her, and who had saved her from the fire. Perhaps she had been foolish to try to reach Tierra on her own. But Ranelle knew she would do it again.

Only the next time she would run faster. The next time she would better shield her mind so that the irani could not follow her.

Darkness became complete in her cell, and the cold reality of her situation closed in on her. Clenching her eyes tight, Ranelle willed away the tears that pricked the back of her eyes and threatened to overcome her.