Savage Satisfaction (14 page)

“What have you destroyed?” she asked.

He only smiled.

William released her and went to the window. “Close your
eyes.”

Dread in her heart, she closed them, whimpering a little.
She would be grateful for the time without the hood. She would be obedient and
not protest when he put it back on her.

“Dammit,” he cursed quietly. “Mirela, I am sorry. I did not
mean to make that an order. I’m going to open these and the light will be
bright. You might want to close your eyes.”

Mirela raised her hands over her eyes. There was the rattle
of a lock and then warm sunlight flooded the chamber. It lit up her eyelids,
even through her fingers, and she could feel its warmth along her skin.

Mirela took a step toward the sunlight, nearly sobbing in
joy. She kept her hands over her eyes, for the light seemed terribly bright.
William’s hands came to her waist, supporting her.

“Do not take this away from me,” she begged, forgetting to
be obedient. “I can’t live in that hood anymore.”

“And you will not.”

Mirela took her hands from her eyes, the light through her
closed lids now tolerable.

“How are your eyes?” he asked.

“The light is very bright and your face was blurry.” Mention
of his face reminded her of her crime. “I’m sorry I did not ask. How is your
face?”

“Healing. I have only a small scar.”

“But it is on your face. I am sorry.” Mirela turned to him,
away from the window and opened one eye, blinking until the eye focused. She
looked at his cheek, tracing the pale white line from just below his eye to his
jaw.

She opened her other eye. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed
her lips to his scar.

His forehead came to rest on hers.

Mirela turned to the window, away from William. Her eyes
were open and working, and there beyond the glass lay a beautiful expanse of
grass, flowers, wood and, above it all, sky.

Joy welled up in her and she pressed her hands to the glass.
William pulled her hands away and opened the window, letting warm air rush in.
Mirela leaned out the window, laughing.

“Hello, sky,” she called out, not caring what William
thought. It was so good to smell nature and feel the sun and see the sky.

“Mirela, I have something to say to you.”

With great reluctance she turned from the window to face
William. She wanted to ignore him and indulge herself in the scenery, but she
was smarter than that now. The sky would still be there.

William lifted the wood token from around his neck. “All I
ask is that you remember me.”

He slid the token between the disks of her collar. It
snapped open.

Mirela was frozen in shock. He was going to let her fly?

“Mas— William, what do you mean, remember you?”

“I mean that you should not have to remain here, with me. I
want you…too much. If you stay here I cannot promise you wouldn’t find yourself
strapped to that bed, or ordered to your knees.”

“You’re…letting me go?”

“Yes.”

“But my people…”

“I will still help your people. No one will ever know you’ve
left. It took me awhile, but I realize that I was being a selfish bastard. I’m
sorry for the way I treated you.”

“Why did you do it?” she couldn’t help herself from asking.

“After what you did and things in my past, I could not bring
myself to trust you. But you proved yourself trustworthy the second day you
were here.” He gestured at the room where she’d been prisoner. “I kept you here
and kept you hooded because I liked it. I liked that you were helpless without
me. I liked the way you looked, naked and with shackles. I treated you like…a
fantasy instead of a person, and I am sorry.”

Mirela bent her head, trying to absorb what he was saying.
It wasn’t her fault, wasn’t her lack of obedience that had made him treat her
so. Much of Mirela’s understanding of self had been shaken by Christoffer
telling her she wasn’t obedient, and her failure to be obedient enough to
please William had preyed on her.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said.

“Then don’t say anything. The sky is waiting.”

He was right, the sky was waiting. Mirela went to the window
and looked out. She climbed up onto the sill, crouching there. She called on
her falcon, who came to her on swift wings. Mirela waited until she knew the
change was under way, then she tipped forward, tumbling out the window.

She heard William cry out, but in the next moment her wings
were fully formed. She caught the updraft of air along the side of the house
and zoomed into the sky. She beat her wings, rising high and fast, then angled
her wings in, making the distinctive V that allowed her speed, and zoomed away
over the trees.

She was free.

“You let her go,” Christoffer said from behind William.

William pressed his hand over his eyes. He would not cry,
for God’s sake. “Yes,” he grunted in reply.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am,” William said, straightening. It wouldn’t
do to show too much emotion. “If you wouldn’t mind, I have work to do.” He
turned from the window— Mirela was gone from sight.

He didn’t look at the wolf as he left. Christoffer touched
his shoulder but William shrugged it away. He locked himself in the formal
drawing room. It was never used and the furniture was draped in cloths, but
there was a stocked liquor cabinet.

He pulled out a bottle of gin, bypassing the full decanter altogether.
He twisted off the top and tipped the bottle to his lips.

Sputtering, William staggered to the couch. He threw back
the dustcover and sat, raising the bottle again. The gin burned on its way
down. It had been years since he’d had neat gin, and only in his youth had
William been so uncouth as to drink from a bottle.

When the first wave of dizziness hit him, William leaned his
head back in satisfaction. He was on his way to being well and truly pissed.

The door opened.

“Get out,” William said, sitting up to take another mouthful
of gin.

“No,” Christoffer said.

“That was an order.”

“I know, but you need protection right now, so I will stay.”

“Protection from what?”

“Yourself.”

William crossed his legs and leaned back. Resting his head
on the back of the couch, he looked at Christoffer, who was leaning against the
door, arms crossed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” William asked.

Christoffer shook his head. “That’s not my place.”

William closed his eyes. Of course. He was so wrapped up in
being Lord Eahrington he wouldn’t have listened to Christoffer.

That didn’t sound right… William shook the thought away,
taking another mouthful of gin. He coughed, the gin burning his throat as he
swallowed.

“Are you going to leave me too, wolf?”

“Never.” Christoffer moved away from the door and took a
seat by William. William offered him the bottle, but Christoffer shook his
head. William took another swig.

“You’re really hurt, aren’t you?” Christoffer asked.

“I’m not hurt. I’m disgusted with myself. The way she talked
about me, the way she thought about me.” William shook his head. “I thought she
was…”

“What?” Christoffer asked.

“I thought she…enjoyed it. I sound like a bloody fool. I was
torturing her and I thought she liked it? I wanted her to…”

“What did you want?” Christoffer’s words were urgent.
William narrowed his eyes at the wolf. There was something going on here, and
maybe if he didn’t have three hundred milliliters of gin in him, he could
figure out what it was.

“I wanted her to love me,” William said.

Christoffer closed his eyes. “Love you…the way you love
her.”

“Yes.”

Christoffer made a low sound of pain. William narrowed his
eyes. The sections of his brain not swimming in gin were trying desperately to
fit together pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know needed to be solved.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” William repeated.

Christoffer buried his face in his hands.

William jumped to his feet, the gin bottle falling to the
floor. He grabbed Christoffer by the neck and hauled him up. “Why?”

Christoffer wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You…wanted me to hurt her,” William said, the words
fumbling and unsure as he tried to form the thought. “You knew how she felt and
you didn’t tell me. She asked for your help and you said no.”

William threw Christoffer back. He stumbled on the
dustcover, falling to the ground. He threw himself on top of the younger man,
hands around his neck.

“Why?” he demanded.

“Because I love you,” Christoffer whispered.

William dropped his head to Christoffer’s chest. “You knew
how I felt about her,” William said. Christoffer didn’t deny it.

“I didn’t do it… I mean I didn’t plan it. I like her, I do.
I just… I could see how you felt about her. I knew that if she became more than
your sex toy I’d lose my place in your life. All I wanted was for things to
stay the same.”

“She was in agony, she wanted to die. I heard her tell you.”
William sat back, grabbed Christoffer’s shirt and jerked him up. “How many
times did she tell you she wanted to die? How many times did she ask you to
help her?”

Christoffer hung limp in William’s grasp.

“Answer me, you coward.” William got to his feet, dragging
Christoffer with him. The world spun dizzily. Christoffer put his arm around
William’s waist to steady him, but William pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.
You disgust me.”

“Don’t say that,” Christoffer begged.

“You’re a selfish coward,” William accused.

“Blame me if you want,” Christoffer said, “if it makes you
feel better.”

“I’m aware that this is my fault,” William said, “because
even without you, I should have realized what I was doing.” William’s words
were slurred but his brain felt wide awake.

He’d been so blind.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her or you,” Christoffer said.

The fight drained out of William. He fell backward onto the
couch. “It doesn’t matter, she’s gone.”

“I’ll go after her, I’ll bring her back.” Christoffer dropped
to his knees beside William.

“So I can make her a prisoner again? No. She’s gone.”
William turned his head to the side.

“What can I do? Don’t turn away from me.”

“I don’t trust you anymore,” William said, knowing it would
hurt the wolf. “I should have trusted her instead of you.”

“Please.”

“Go to the pen,” William ordered. “Lock yourself in, throw
the key through the bars.”

“Will you come to me?”

William looked at him. “I don’t know.”

Christoffer nodded woodenly.

With a long look over his shoulder at William, Christoffer
left.

William had just enough sense left to stagger up to bed. He
knocked over a table on the landing and pushed paintings askew as he dragged
himself along the wall.

He was numb, though whether it was the gin, emotional
exhaustion or both that brought about that state he couldn’t say. He stripped
and fell backward onto the bed. His skin prickled with sweat and the room was
close and hot. William pushed himself up, planning to open the windows, but had
to run for the bathroom.

Kneeling naked on the floor of the dark bathroom, hugging
the basin of the toilet, William wondered where his life had gone so horribly
wrong. His plans had been simple and straightforward. He would keep his Hunting
Pair in the pen until he trusted them implicitly. The collars would be used as
a reminder of his mastery and to ensure the past didn’t repeat itself.

“Best laid plans, road to hell,” he mumbled. He’d always
assumed those phrases applied to other people, not the Lord of Eahrington.

He wanted a shower but didn’t have the energy, so he settled
for brushing his teeth and splashing water on his face.

On his way to the bed William threw open the windows. He
couldn’t stop himself from looking at the night sky, searching the star-dotted
heavens for the outline of a falcon.

She wasn’t there.

He hadn’t really expected her to be, but God, he’d hoped.

William left the window open, liking the whistle of the wind
as it streaked into the room. He staggered to the bed, falling into a dreamless
sleep as the wind howled.

* * * * *

When a screech woke him from a deep sleep, William looked up
to see a falcon perched on his window ledge. He thought it a dream. When the
falcon spread its wings, riding a gust of wind into the room and landing on the
chair of his writing desk, William sat up, marveling at how real it felt.

And when the falcon fluttered to the floor and turned into a
naked woman with long, dark hair, he knew this was a dream.

“Mirela.”

“Yes, William.”

She stood, skin silver, hair and eyes black in the
moonlight. She was exotic and dangerous, a siren to tempt a man.

William tried to stand but staggered, falling back onto the
bed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’ve said that before.”

“I love you.”

She tipped her head to one side. “Why? You do not know me.”

“Damned realistic dream,” he muttered. “I thought I did. I
thought I was making you happy. Well, not happy precisely, but I thought what I
was doing would feel right to you, that you would enjoy it the way I did.”

“I do not want a master, not the way you mean it. I do not
want to live in the dark and be treated as though I were stupid.”

“No, that was wrong. I did that because I liked it. I liked
knowing you were there, naked, helpless, waiting for me.”

“But I do want to be with my lord, my falconer. This is what
I was raised to be, this is all I know.”

“Mirela?”

She came to him, graceful and soft. At her urging William
lay back and she climbed atop him. William ran his hands from her knees, up her
thighs and belly to her breasts. She grabbed his hands and pressed them into
her breasts, digging his fingers in.