Torn (9 page)

“No!” She snarled, suddenly fearful that if Torn left his cell it might be searched and the tools for their escape discovered.

Bron grinned, running his tongue over his thick lips. “You haven’t got a choice. I’ll tell you, it does my soul good to see the former Captain of the Guard being pawed by a beast. No better than a common whore, you are, Honey Wine.”

“You probably enjoy watching so much because no woman will take you to her bed. I remember seeing that pathetic little cock of yours in the bathhouse.

I’ve seen mice with more to brag about.”

Bron’s face reddened and his fingers bit into her arm. “Fucking whore!”

He dragged her towards the breeding pen, but she jerked away from him.

“I’m not going in the disgusting pen again! If I must breed with him, then I’ll do it in his cell.”

“In his cell?” Bron’s anger was replaced by a leer. He bellowed with laughter.

“At least I know I clean it every day after I tend him!”

“Oh, this I’ve got to see!” he grinned, shoving her back into the prison.

Torn appeared surprised by the expression that must have been showing on Honey Wine’s face as Bron unlocked the cell and shoved her inside.

“Go to it.”

Torn stood and shrugged in question.

“We’re supposed to mate again,” she said, jaw taut.

Torn’s eyes took on a chilling expression as he approached the bars, his own teeth visibly clenched with fury.

Bron laughed, though he moved out of Torn’s reach. “I don’t think he likes the idea of fucking you again, Honey Wine.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “If he doesn’t then, there’s not much point. You can’t make a man perform.”

“Oh no?” Bron suddenly lunged forward and Torn jumped back, but not before the guard had managed to stick a tiny needle in his neck. Torn jerked it out, staring at the pointed, reddish tip.

“The Lady said he won’t be able to resist mating now.” Bron snorted with laughter, dragged a stool in front of the cage, and sat. “If it works on him, I might asked the Lady for some myself.”

Torn glanced at Honey Wine, and she saw panic in his dark blue eyes.

Within moments, the aphrodisiac began its work. Torn paced the cell, expression tense, and Honey Wine couldn’t keep her eyes from his cock that stood, stiff as a pike, before him.

Her own heart pounding, she tried pretending they were alone, that Bron wasn’t leering at them from several feet away and that other beasts and guards stood around the prison.

None of them, besides Bron and a few passing guards, could actually see what was going on in the cage, anyway.

Grasping Torn’s wrists, she tugged him toward his cot. His eyes pleaded with her, telling her he was no longer in control of himself. She tried to tell him with her own eyes that it was all right. Soon, they would be out of this horrible prison and free to live a life of dignity where they could make love if they wanted, when they wanted, and with the privacy such intimacy deserved.

Honey Wine lay on her back, and Torn’s body covered hers. She was again surprised when he didn’t penetrate her. Pressing his cock between their bellies was enough to send his drugged body into a frenzy. Closing her eyes, Honey Wine grasped his buttocks as he lunged against her. Within seconds she felt his seed against her belly and breasts, but almost magically, his cock was hard again. Two more times he came, the last dragging her with him. Her pussy ached for him, and she slid her hand between them, grasping his steely cock and guiding it towards her hot, wet slit, but he grasped her hand and pulled it away. He moved lower, drying his essence from her flesh with his blanket. He ran the rough blanket over her pebble-hard nipples before taking one of them in his mouth and running his tongue over it.

Honey Wine gasped, eyes tightly shut, and pressed his head closer. His tongue laved both nipples before he slid up her body and sat up. She stared at him, panting. His chest was heaving and his eyes were glazed with passion in spite of the flickers of anger in their blue depths. She didn’t blame him for despising what was being done to them, but in spite of his rage, the aphrodisiac had him hard as a steel club. He stood, glaring at Bron who stared at them from his stool, one hand clutching his groin, his own breathing quick.

How Honey Wine hated him! One day, she vowed to repay him for every bit of humiliation he caused both her and Torn!

As Bron approached, with the key to the cell, Honey Wine noticed Torn’s fists clench and saw by his temper he was on the verge of attacking the guard.

She placed a hand to his chest and said, “It’s almost over.”

“It is over,” Bron stated, though he had no way of knowing she meant their time in captivity was almost over. Torn nodded almost imperceptibly and walked to the back of the cell, his entire body tense with combined rage and sexual desire. At least he was smart enough not to risk their escape by a foolish attack on Bron.

The guard continued speaking as he released Honey Wine. “He can spend the rest of the day playing with himself until that herb wears off. Yes, I’ll be talking to the Lady about getting some of that for myself.”

One day, you bastard, you’ll regret everything you’ve ever done to us
, Honey Wine thought.
I don’t care how long it takes, but right now, I have
more important plans. Tonight, Torn. Tonight we’ll be free.

* * * * *

Before she left the holding cells that evening, she slipped Torn one of the blowpipes he’d asked for as well as poison for the darts.

Their eyes met before she went to her chamber. There she filled her supply case and hid a satchel of food and clothes beneath her cloak. She took her usual walk to the courtyard and hid the case and the satchel behind several small, clipped bushes. She slipped off her cloak and hid that, too.

Back in her chamber, Honey Wine lay on the bed, heart hammering. Unable to relax, she alternated between sitting on the bed and pacing the chamber.

Shortly before midnight, she slipped from her chamber and to the holding cell. As usual, a single guard stood at the door.

“A little late for you to be here, isn’t it, Honey Wine?” he asked.

“I realized I left behind a medicine bottle. I have to get it.”

“Can’t that wait until morning?”

“It’s a very strong potion, and I’m afraid that if I left in an one of the beast’s cages, the creature might poison himself. It’ll only take me a moment to find it.”

The guard nodded and unlocked the door. Almost as soon as she stepped inside, her eyes riveted to Timus who lay in an unconscious heap on the floor beside the branding table. The guard hurried to Timus, and as he stooped to examine him, Honey Wine took a branding iron from the wall and struck him in the head. He crumpled.

Several of the beasts stirred, but drifted back to sleep. Honey Wine rushed to the door and locked it from the inside, then took the keys from Timus and released Torn.

“We have to hurry,” she whispered. “Everything’s ready in the courtyard.”

Torn nodded, and she noticed beneath his calm veneer, his eyes looked as tense as she felt.

They hurried to the well and she sat on the edge. Torn grasped her wrists and lowered her downward. Her toes touched the cold water, and he let her drop. She landed with a soft splash. Seconds later, waves dashed against her face as Torn sank in the water beside her.

In complete blackness, she groped for him.

“Hold my skirt so we won’t get separated,” she whispered, her palms braced against his shoulders. “Wait a moment.”

“What?”

She felt for his face in the darkness and kissed his mouth. His lips were moist from the water. One of his strong arms snaked around her waist and pressed her to the hard length of his body.

“All right, lets go.” She tugged free of his embrace, drew a deep breath, and dove beneath the surface. Below, the black water faded to deep blue. Once out of the well, the water was terrifying in its darkness, but far ahead, moonlight rippled, and she knew the pool in the courtyard waited above. Torn must have seen it as well, and as they neared the lighter water, he released her skirt and swam beside her, his inky hair blending with the waves.

They broke the surface simultaneously, blinking water from their eyes as they searched for guards. To their relief, the courtyard was empty.

“Come on,” Honey Wine said, swimming toward shore. They stepped out of the water, and she handed him their cloaks. She’d attached a rope to her supply box so she could sling it over her shoulder and across her chest. Torn took the satchel, and they walked to the fence. The walls were high and completely smooth. There were no footholds.

Honey Wine said, “I’m tall enough to reach the top if you give me a boost.

There’s a rope in the satchel so I can lower it to you and help pull you up.”

He narrowed his eyes at the wall before he stooped so she could stand on his shoulders. When he rose to his full height, she had little trouble grasping the top of the wall and pulling herself up. He tossed her the satchel, and while she searched for the rope, he landed in a squat on ledge beside her.

She nearly fell off the wall in surprise as she looked from the ground below into Torn’s amused eyes.

Her brow furrowed. “How did you do that?”

“Years of practice.” He grasped her hands and lowered her over the edge of the wall. From where she dangled, the drop to the ground was merely a few feet. He released her and she landed, bending her knees against the impact.

The satchel landed near her, and Torn followed.

Forest loomed in the distance, and Honey sensed freedom.

Torn gazed up at the moon and said, “We have a few hours until dawn. We’ll have to make good time.”

“We can head for the forest and travel upriver to hide our tracks,” she told him.

“Good. Rubyshire is on the other side of the forest. We can reach it by midday if we keep a steady pace.”

“If we –”

“Hey! What the hell are you two doing?” shouted two guards who had been circling the palace.

“Get him! It’s one of the beasts. He’s got Honey Wine!”

The guards drew their swords and raced at them. Honey Wine reached for her blowpipe and darts and took aim as Torn met the warriors head on. Her heart pounded as he dodged the slashing blades, certain he’d be killed. He swept one of the guard’s feet out from under him, sending the man crashing to his back. The second guard nearly tripped over the first, and Torn took his moment of distraction to kick the sword from his hand. While Torn dealt with the second guard, Honey Wine shot a dart into the man on the ground. With two serpentine hand strikes, Torn rendered both soldiers unconscious.

Honey Wine shot a dart into the second man, to ensure that he, like his companion, would remain asleep for several hours.

Torn, his breathing even as if he’d just awakened, took up the satchel.

As they ran toward the woods, she said, “I still find it hard to believe it took only eight of my sister’s guards to capture you.”

He glanced at her, but didn’t reply. Neither of them spoke again, but concentrated solely on reaching the woods. Several guards they could lose, but an entire troop would follow as soon as the others discovered the prison break.

Then they’d ride them down and kill them, no matter how well she and Torn fought.

Torn knew in which direction to travel and therefore set the pace.

Considering the severity of his injury such a short time ago, his stamina surprised Honey Wine. As they trudged upland through the water at a brisk, steady pace, she was reminded of the forced marches on which she’d accompanied her troops before her banishment to the dungeon. By dawn, they were miles from the palace and deep in the woods.

As the sun rose higher, they stopped for a brief rest. They drank from the river, ate some of the bread and cheese she’d packed in the satchel, and sat together on a wide, flat stone overlooking the water. She opened his cloak and unraveled the bandage from his chest. The injury was healing well, and she was glad that their escape hadn’t caused any further damage.

“Are you doing all right?” he asked.

“Of course. The faster we move, the better. Thank the Goddesses no one’s followed us. Yet.”

“As long as we keep to the water, they won’t be able to track us. We’ll be home in a few hours.” He suddenly looked sympathetic and covered her hand with his. “I guess I’ve taken you from your home, haven’t I?”

She snorted with laughter. “Some home. The only real home I knew was when I grew up with my father and grandmother. Then my mother took me to the palace when I was ten years old. I didn’t even know my father was killed until days after his death. I should have left Sophianna years ago, but life as a guard was all I knew.”

“You’ll be welcome at the Order for as long as you want to stay.”

She glanced down at her rough hands, for the first time feeling apprehension about meeting the rest of Torn’s Order. She knew how courageous, strong, and just Torn was. He’d chosen a life of service, but she’d lived a life of violence. There was a vast difference between a guard and a Knight of the Ruby Order. Yes, she’d become a healer in the dungeon, but again, she’d been forced. She’d lived a life among rugged men, fighting with them, becoming one of them.

“What will they think of me?” she asked softly.

He smiled slightly and touched his fingertip to her chin, tilting her face up toward his. “I’m sure they’ll be charmed. As I was.”

She shook her head, feeling an uncharacteristic blush creep into her cheeks.

“That’s only because you were imprisoned. If you’d been able to think clearly, you’d never have felt that way.”

“No matter where we met, I’d have felt the same.”

She drew a deep breath and gazed at the rippling water. “Will I like the Order?”

He tilted his head and looked both amused and perplexed. “I hope so. You’ll appreciate Mahir, I think.”