Taken by the Enemy (7 page)

She swallowed slowly, well aware of her dry mouth as she spoke. “No.”

“What did I tell you?” Mathias grumbled.

“Tell me who you were in the city.”

“No.”

Lucian stood up quickly, towering over her as she tilted her head back to meet his eyes. He was starting to breathe harder, and Mathias just laughed, throwing his hands up. “Dammit, Lucian, you
know
how I’d handle this.”

“I can handle her just fine,” Lucian hissed.

“Oh yeah, she looks
handled
. The men are right, you didn’t nab yourself a little bird, you nabbed a wild hawk, and if you’re not careful, she’s going to tear your throat out.” Mathias leaned back in his chair, but Lucian’s rage was just beginning to show.

“Tell me.” His words were sinister in their quiet, and Emmie felt a tremble rush through her that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“I have nothing to tell you.” The words came out as a whisper, but the roar Lucian released was more than loud enough. He grabbed her arm in a vicious grip, hauling her to her feet as he threw open the door and shoved her outside. She yelped as he dragged her the short distance, still naked, to his house.

Once inside, he threw her onto the pallet of his bed and shouted, “Tell me what you’re hiding!”

“Go to hell!” she screamed back, moving back from him over the surprisingly soft bedding.

“I’ve told you, over and over, that you need to behave. That you need to be respectful, obedient!
Lying
to me is not any of those things!” Lucian yelled, and then he pointed at her. “Do. Not. Move.” He stormed out of the house in a rage, and Emmie let out a shuddering breath, her entire body shaking.

Where the hell did he go?

Her mind raced, and she looked around the room in a panic until she saw a knife on his table. Emmie launched herself at it, snagging it before leaping back onto the bed. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel her pulse in her ears, but she tucked it next to her, doing her best to hide the knife against her side while keeping a solid grip on it.

The door banged open a moment later and she yelped, tightening her grip on the handle of the blade as he kicked it shut. There was a thin branch in his hands and he was busy tearing off twigs and leaves in a fury, muttering to himself.

Oh, shit
.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just tell me what we want to know?” His voice was too calm as he raised dark gray eyes to her. When she didn’t answer, he stalked towards her across the room, whipping the now clean switch through the air.

Emmie waited, letting him move a little closer, and then she lunged at him with the knife. He dropped the switch and caught her wrist easily, painfully twisting it until her fingers released the blade involuntarily. She screamed and cursed him as he tossed it to the side, flipping her completely to her stomach.

“Are you fucking serious?” he yelled at her, and then he scooped up the switch and brought it down across her ass. It took a moment for the line of fire to register, but then she was screaming for a different reason as the pain surged. Lucian brought it down again and again in a furious sequence of lashes as the switch seemed to wrap around the sides of her. When she tried to block it with her arm, she regretted it, the pain worse on her arm than it was across her backside. Emmie tucked her arms under her, bracing herself against his bed as he shouted, “Tell me!”

“I’ll never tell you anything!” she screamed, her voice cracking under the strain. The welts from the switch pulsing bright lines of pain.

Lucian growled and flipped her to her back. He was on top of her in an instant, grabbing her arms to slam them down over her head, his strength easily overpowering her as she struggled against him, tears burning her eyes. “I thought you had nothing to tell me,” he spoke low, and she let out a frustrated scream as she tried to unseat him ineffectively.

“I don’t!” she shouted, but he dropped his weight over her hips until she couldn’t move.

“You’re sure about that?” he asked, trailing wild eyes over her.

“YES!” Her voice was raw, and he shook his head.

“Why are you so fucking stubborn?
Nothing
is that important!” Lucian shouted into her face, and she spit back into his.

“I hate you.”

“Really?” he asked as he forced his knees between hers and spread her wide as she fought. Shifting his weight onto her wrists to hold her down, his free hand slid between her thighs to slip two fingers inside her as she tried her best to twist away. “Well, your mouth might lie, little bird, but your body doesn’t. You’re soaking wet and whatever secrets you have… you want me as much as I want you.”

Emmie screamed in futile rage, trying to jerk her hands free of his grip, but it was useless with his weight pressing them painfully into the bedding. His fingers continued to glide through the wetness between her thighs, and she hated herself for responding to him, for taking any pleasure in the rhythmic movements of his fingers, or the way his thumb brushed across her clit and caused her hips to kick.

“All I’ve been thinking about the last few days is the way your lips felt around my cock,” he mumbled as his mouth trailed over her shoulder, tasting her, and she was drowning in the warm, all-male scent of his skin. “The way you felt when I was inside you.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, and he lifted his head up to meet her eyes.

“I’d rather fuck
you
.” Lucian slid his fingers from her, but she felt him fumbling for his pants and she whimpered.

Not again
.

“No!” Too quickly his cock was brushing against her, and she tried to bring her thighs together, tried to twist her hips, but there was no room for it. As a last ditch effort, her mind threw up her full name, the name that would likely act as a full stop if he heard it, but she hesitated too long and then he thrust inside her. It was a dull ache, a painful fullness, but it was nothing like the first time. Then he withdrew and somehow went deeper.

Emmie whined under him as he dropped his head over her shoulder, his light brown hair brushing against her cheek until she turned away from it. The welts rubbed rough against the bedding beneath her adding a new layer of torment, each line lighting up individually as he thrust again and again.

“I want to know your name,” he grunted against her ear and she renewed her efforts to pull her wrists free, chastised by the realization of just how weak she was against his strength.

“No,” she mumbled and he groaned.

“Fine, little hawk. Have it your way.” His next thrust was harder, more brutal, and she winced, but then her body seemed to catch up to his movements. A warm pool began to form in her lower belly, spreading slowly until she had to fight the urge to lift her hips to meet his. Lucian was breathing hard above her, quiet groans escaping him, and she gritted her teeth to halt her own moan as pleasure started to surge against her own wishes.

It felt impossible, but that same tingling pressure he had brought forth in her before began to creep up her spine again, making the tempting darkness behind her eyes dance with lights. “Please…” she begged, but it was too quiet, lost in the raucous sound of their breaths.

And what was she begging for anyway? For him to stop, or to keep going until she dissolved?

She did her best to push back the rising orgasm, to ignore the devious friction of each thrust, but it was impossible. Lucian tilted his hips, brushing against a new place inside her that sent her flying into oblivion just as he commanded, “Come for me, Emmie.”

Then there was only the rush of pleasure warming her from head to toe as she cried out and her mind sparkled with orgasmic delirium. For a moment, there was nothing but that tingling rush, and then it began to fade. The glittering fires inside her winking out like candle flames in a breeze, flickering and then disappearing completely.

The crash on the other side of bliss was pure hell.

Emmie knew she had felt his cock kick deep inside her as he had come, filling her with his seed once again, and she wanted to drink a gallon of the moon tea. She wanted to bathe in it.

She wanted to drown him in it.

He panted above her, his fingers still wrapped painfully tight around her wrists, and she pulled at them again. “Get off me,” she growled.

Lucian sighed and rolled off of her, clearly not caring now that he was done with her. With a huff, he landed close to the wall and she sat up to turn away from him, her feet touching the animal skins on the floor.

Empty
. That’s how she felt as the cool air focused on the sheen of sweat on her skin.

Emmie huddled with her arms wrapped around herself for a long time, listening to his harsh breathing slowly settle. Then there was nothing but a dull silence filled by the crackling of fires and the low hum of voices outside. They thought this was okay?
Normal?
A spark of defiance appeared in that vacant, dark pit inside her, and she fed it – furious at him, furious at their fucked up little village of traitorous enemies to the city.

The city to which she was practically an heir.

Taking a deep breath, she stared at the opposite wall. Her anger built, and all of the caution she had held for days, all of the careful language just disappeared, and she finally gave him the answer they had wanted so badly. “My name is Emeline Anne Daniau.”

The sudden skip in his steady breathing told her he’d heard her, and he sat up sharply. His voice shook when he asked, “Jules Daniau?”

Emmie smiled into the dim space in front of her, feeling a sense of satisfaction begin to edge back the darkness inside her. “He’s my father.”

“Your
father
?” Lucian yelled, and Emmie let the glee fill her up as his obvious fear made his voice shake.

“Yes.”

“Your fucking father is the head of the town council? The bastards who exiled all of us?” His voice was too loud, and they were much too close to the village center for him to be announcing her secret.

She turned, glaring at him over her shoulder. “
Yes
.”

Lucian slid his hands into his hair, gripping tight as he groaned loudly and dropped onto his back. His shirt lifted, and she let her eyes trail over the hard ridges of his abs – so strong, but his strength was useless against the knowledge of who she was. “This is impossible,” he muttered.

“Apparently not.” Emmie laughed bitterly to herself.

“This isn’t funny!” he shouted, and she shrugged, still smiling despite his futile anger.

“Trust me, I don’t think any of this is funny.”

“He exiled
you
? His
daughter
?” Lucian pushed himself into a sitting position again, gasping out the last question. “Why?”

Emmie sighed. She was over the lies, the pretense she had fought so hard to maintain, none of it mattered. He already knew the most important part of it. “He didn’t.”

“What!” Lucian shouted and she turned to face him completely.

“Would you be quiet?” she hissed. “He didn’t exile me, I… I left.”

“You left,” he echoed, disbelief reigning in his voice.

“Yes.”

“You left the city on your own. All by yourself.” Lucian stared at her incredulously, his hand returning to grip his hair at the root.

“I did,” she confirmed, and he huffed out a laugh, breathing rapidly as he sputtered.

“But,
why
? You were rich! The richest of the rich! What on earth—” He stopped, shifting until he leaned back against the wall of his house as a low groan rose out of him. “Tell me why!”

“I had my reasons.” Emmie’s joy at his suffering fled as the answer to
that
question surfaced inside her. Dark and unwelcome.

“You might as well tell me! If they’re coming for you, we’re all going to die anyway. Men, women, children… ALL OF US!” he shouted into her face, and she flinched. “So, I might as well know
why
, I might as well be able to tell them all why they’re going to die after surviving everything they have!”

She turned away from him, cradling her face in her hands as thoughts and memories raced through her head too fast to track. Her fingers wound their way back to the braid Alice had so carefully crafted that morning, but it was already a mess so Emmie began to undo it to let her hair curtain her face. The absent tension on her scalp was a relief, but nowhere near enough. Nowhere near enough to erase the pain of –

Gabrielle.

“Do you still have my pack?” The question left her mouth unbidden, and Lucian just laughed at her, an edge of insanity making him sound ridiculous.

“You want to know if I have your
pack
? After everything you’ve just told me?”

“It’s important. Do you still have it?” Emmie felt a calm settle over her, and her flat voice reflected it.

“Shit! Not like it matters anymore.” Lucian shoved himself to the end of the bedding, tucking himself away in his pants as he moved aside things in the corner to lift her bag. He tossed it at her, and she caught it against her chest. “There. You have your pack back, is that going to solve all of this?”

“No, but it will help to explain it.” Emmie ran her hand over the edges, and smiled as she opened it. It was untouched. Her spare clothes, her water, the knife, the last bag of dried meat she had snuck from the kitchen. Reaching inside, she pulled aside the hidden pocket and fished out the only thing she’d really wanted from it since he took her.

Lucian drew close as she let the bag slide to the floor, cradling the last material possession she cared about in her hands. “What’s that?” he asked as he dropped next to her on the bedding.

“This,” she pointed at the photograph, “is my sister Gabrielle.”

“Wow,” he breathed and leaned closer. Her sister’s dark hair practically glowed in the photograph, bright blue eyes burning into her even over the span of time since she’d seen her last. The image was painful to look at – they were both smiling, dressed in ball gowns for a party, and their cousin had insisted on taking their picture as he had recently purchased one of the new color photocameras. Gabrielle had her arm around Emmie, a bright smile on both of their faces, and the ache of her betrayal hit her anew as she stared into her sister’s face.

“She’s beautiful, I know.” Emmie wiped the tears from her cheeks, but Lucian just laughed.

“You
both
are, I’m just surprised. I didn’t know how good you could look until that photo.” His cocky tone was back, and she hit his chest on instinct before returning her hand to cradle the picture.

“Jerk,” she mumbled, waiting for him to react to the strike, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I didn’t even know color photographs were possible.” He sounded reverent as he reached forward to trace her face in the photograph.

“This was taken about six months ago, it’s new.” Emmie sniffled, her fingers tightening on the edges. “It took our cousin Andre forever to get copies to us, and I just couldn’t leave it behind.”

“Why did you leave?” His words were quiet, and a sob escaped her as she stared down into her sister’s face.

“I had to.”

“But, why?” he repeated, and his warm hand landed on her back. She wanted to flinch away, but she was too deep in her own misery to care.

“My father.”

“Your father? Did he do something to you?” Lucian sounded angry, but she couldn’t deal with his mood swings as the memories she had tried to bury since she’d entered the forest returned in full color.

“No. I mean yes, but—” She groaned. “Not exactly. He wanted to unite our family with another. An extraordinarily wealthy family, because our own funds were dwindling – and
Bastien Foss
was the answer.” Emmie swallowed bitterly. “And Bastien didn’t care who he married as long as he was able to connect himself with my father. To marry a Daniau.”

“Not much higher to climb on the social ladder,” Lucian mumbled and Emmie shrugged because he was right. Her father practically owned the city. The rest of the council followed him around like ducklings, nodding at his every word. He was the center of everything, and many people had clamored to get close to him over the years. Lucian moved his fingers in small circles on her back. “So your father picked you?”

“No,” Emmie whispered, blinking away her tears so she could see her sister’s face clearly. “That was the problem. He chose Gabrielle.”

“But, wait, I don’t understand…”

“Gabrielle is two years older than me, and so he wanted to marry her off first. He wanted her to marry Bastien, and
that
was impossible – but my father refused to listen to her.” Emmie closed her eyes as the memory of that horrible argument flooded her. Gabrielle’s tormented shouts and cries as she had begged, the sound of his slap, the beating, and then him dragging her sister up the stairs to lock her in her room as she screamed for him to listen to her, to have
mercy
.

But their father was never merciful.

“Why was it impossible, Emmie?” Lucian’s voice was soft, but it still made her cringe to dig deeper into that nest of painful thoughts.

“Gabrielle couldn’t marry Bastien.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and forced herself to speak the secret she had guarded so carefully for so long, “She couldn’t marry him because she… doesn’t like men.”

“She doesn’t like —” Lucian sounded confused for a moment and then he stopped. “
Oh
.”

“Her girlfriend’s name is Sarah. They’ve been together since they were young, and they love each other. I was there, watching their relationship change, and there’s no mistaking true love like that.” Emmie sighed, remembering the two of them cuddled up on a small couch in the parlor, dramatically reading passages from books before laughing and eventually kissing. At first, it had always made Emmie blush, but then it had become commonplace, and she had taken over reading the books aloud while they whispered together.

“No. Love is pretty clear when it’s real.” He cleared his throat, removing his hand from her back. “Your father didn’t see it though?”

“My father didn’t
know
. About any of it. He would have completely lost his temper, and when he’s like that – there’s no telling what will happen.” She shuddered and turned her face away to brush her cheeks. “I sat outside Gabrielle’s room all night after he told her that she was marrying Bastien. Begging her to talk to me, to let me know she was okay, and she finally came to the door and sat on the other side so we could hear each other. She told me that she wouldn’t marry Bastien, that she’d rather die, because at least in death she wouldn’t betray Sarah, wouldn’t have to live without ever seeing her again. But I couldn’t let her do that, I couldn’t.”

“What did you do?” Lucian whispered.

“I convinced her not to do anything yet, and when my father let her out of her room for breakfast in the morning, I was already waiting at the table. As they came in, he was berating her for not being grateful for the marriage, and I… threw a tantrum.”

“
That
I can believe.” He huffed next to her and she turned to glare at him, surprised by the concern creasing his forehead even as he gave her a playful smile.

Emmie grumbled and looked down at the photo again. “I shouted at him that he always gave Gabrielle everything, that it was unfair that he just chose to let her be the one that got married just because she was older. He asked me if I wanted to get married instead, since Gabrielle was being such a
petulant child
about it, and —”

“You agreed to marry him in her place.” Lucian finished for her and she nodded. “So what went wrong? Why did you run?”

“That was almost two months ago, and I met him soon after. Something about him seemed –
off
.” She cringed, laying the photo aside to drop her face into her hands. “It didn’t take long, carefully asking questions of friends and staff, to find out that Bastien Foss was anything but a gentleman. He’s violent, and a drunkard, and needlessly cruel to his household. That was terrible to learn, terrifying even, but I was still resolute to keep my promise.”

Emmie sniffed hard and wiped her cheeks roughly to stare at the floor in front of her. Her stomach clenched into a knot, and Lucian took a breath to speak but she started before he could.

“Then, one evening I received a letter, unsigned, urging me to break the marriage agreement at all costs. It said that Bastien had bragged to a group of men that he’d soon have one of the Daniau daughters in his household and that they were welcome to help… break me in.
All
of them.”

“Shit,” Lucian muttered and stood up, beginning to pace back and forth in front of her. “That’s why you ran.”

“Yes. I spent weeks researching the forest, watching the guards for the perfect place to go over the wall, and the whole time I played the excited bride-to-be. I lied to Gabrielle, to her face, that everything would be
fine
.” Emmie hid behind her hair, sick with the weight of her betrayal. “And then I fled like a coward, two days before the marriage was supposed to be presented, and I left Gabrielle alone with my damned father – and Bastien.”

Pain radiated outward from her chest, and all of her pent up guilt and grief and rage flooded her. She hated herself, despised herself. Emmie had done her best to hate every person in the village, but she was probably among the worst of them. Lucian’s own silence was condemning.

“So!” She wiped her eyes again, staring at the floor. “Now you know how despicable I am, how traitorous, and you’re at least justified in hating me. Go on, go and tell all of them. Spread the word, and let them do what they want with me.”

Lucian stopped moving in front of her, but she refused to lift her eyes to his. Whatever he had planned for her, she deserved it. She deserved all of it and more. His calm voice shocked her more than if he had shouted. “You are not despicable. You ran from an impossible situation, and you were damn brave going over the wall alone.”

“You don’t know —”

“I know that I do not
hate
you. Where on earth did you get that idea?”

Emmie raised her eyes, the spark of her anger returning as she glared at him. “Are you fucking joking?”

“You’re talking about this?” He gestured between the two of them and she rolled her eyes.

“Obviously.”

“Listen, aristocrat, you may be the daughter of Jules Daniau inside the city, but out here you’re just like everyone else, and
everyone
starts at the bottom here. Everyone earns their position in this village and you don’t —”

“
Earns
their position? You mean that I have to
earn
the right to be treated respectfully by spending time on my fucking back? Under you?” she shouted, standing up to face off with him.