Embracing Silence (3 page)

Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the table and watched her breasts rise and fall with each breath she took. She was still wearing her jacket, but it was wide open, exposing the black T-shirt beneath. Although her shirt was dark, where it was damp, it clung to her like a second skin, outlining her breasts. The mounds were small but well-shaped, her nipples pressed against the soft fabric.

Frowning, he stepped away from the table and went to crouch at her feet. He’d been so taken with just looking at her, he’d forgotten to check her for weapons. Stupid! Just because she was a woman didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous. In fact, it made her more so.

Unlacing her boots, he found a short but deadly, three-inch blade tucked inside. Her ankles were so slender he could circle them with his hands. They seemed too feminine and delicate to be encased in combat boots. Tienan carefully retied the laces, not wanting her feet to get cold.

Ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him he was being ridiculous, he slowly slid his hands up her calves and then her thighs. Her legs were slender but muscular. Her hips flared out and then dipped in at her waist. Tienan plucked another knife from a sheath at her waistband.

Dumping the weapons on the table, he resumed his search. The pockets of her coat turned up nothing more than a squashed half of a sandwich, which he tossed next to the weapons. Her hands were small, almost dainty next to his as he started at her wrists and worked his way up her arms to her shoulders. She was still wearing her coat, but he could feel the roped muscle beneath the fabric. She was stronger than she appeared.

He began to sweat as he stroked his palms over her belly. His movements becoming slower, less brisk. More of a caress than a search. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from cupping her breasts in his hands. Her nipples stabbed the center of his palms.

Tienan wanted to see them, wanted to know what color they were. Soft beige or rosy red? Disgusted with himself, he dropped his hands to his sides and walked away. He’d do one final check of the perimeter to make certain she was alone.

He was almost positive she was, but it didn’t pay to make assumptions. He hadn’t survived this long in his life by being stupid. It was incredibly hard to leave her behind, which only served to piss him off. What was it about this woman that made him feel things he’d never felt before?

Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. The quicker she answered his questions, the quicker they could part ways. He hoped she would give him the information he wanted to hear. He’d hate like hell to have to kill her.

Slipping out of the basement, he began to reconnoiter the building and beyond. He should have blown out the candle before he’d left. It was a waste of precious resources. But he hadn’t wanted her to wake up in the dark. Bad enough that she’d find herself tied to a chair. He didn’t want her to be afraid of the dark.

Which was crazy. She was going to know she was a prisoner. That alone would be enough to frighten her.

Pushing all thoughts of the woman from his mind, he focused on the job at hand. The quicker he finished securing the area, the faster he could return to her.

Silence came awake slowly. Her head hurt, a continual throbbing in her temples. She tried to swallow, but her throat hurt too. Frowning, she tried to bring her hand to her face, but it wouldn’t move.

She was cold. A shiver raced down her spine and spread out to her limbs. Her arms and legs felt damp. Taking a deep breath, she tried to open her eyes. The smell of damp earth, mold and decay filled the air around her. It took a mighty effort but she managed to pry her eyelids open. She blinked twice and swallowed, biting back a moan at the pain in her throat.

She was in a room of some sort. As she looked down at her wrists, panic flooded her. She was strapped to a chair.

The stranger!

The man she’d been tracking for weeks had caught her. She had a vague memory of a very large shape behind her, of strong arms wrapped around her waist and throat, of all the air being driven from her body. He hadn’t killed her after all. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Obviously, he planned to question her first.

She listened carefully for a few minutes and determined she was alone. Turning her head slowly, she scoped out as much of the room as she could, which wasn’t much. A single candle sat in a holder on a small wooden table, her two knives next to it. One of the table legs had a rock beneath it to keep it level. The ground was mostly dirt and pebbles and she couldn’t see a window anywhere.

Think!
There had to be a way out of here. Now was her chance to escape. Once her captor returned, she knew in the pit of her belly she’d never get another opportunity. If she didn’t make a break now, she was as good as dead.

Wrapping her fingers around the arms of the chair, she placed her feet flat on the floor and pushed up. The chair scraped against the ground, moving about an inch forward. Buoyed by success, she ignored the aches and pains in her body as she did it again. The table seemed to be miles away instead of just a few feet. Still, she moved forward at a steady pace. Sweat coated her body, her muscles strained and cried out in pain, but she ignored all discomfort. Pain was better than the alternative—dead.

Keeping her ears tuned to her surroundings, she began the slow journey of moving the several feet that separated the chair and the table. When she was close enough to the table, she leaned forward as far as she could. Her waist was tied to the chair, but she could manage to touch her forehead to the table. Rocking side to side, she tucked the chair a few inches beneath the slab of wood. Her forehead touched the hilt of her smaller knife.

Working slowly, she managed to pull it toward her. The rough wood of the table scraped her forehead but she didn’t care. When the knife was at the edge of the table, Silence sat back and took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to do this. If she got the knife in her lap, she might be able to use her legs to work it close enough to her fingers. She was about to attempt it when a more obvious solution came to her. It was so simple it made her laugh.

Shaking her head, she stood slowly. The chair was heavy and, tied as she was, she couldn’t stand up straight. But she could stand up enough to grasp the hilt of the knife with her fingers. Holding it as tightly as she could, she slowly sat back down.

Triumph filled her. She had the knife. Carefully turning it in her grip, she angled the blade toward the straps on her right hand and began to saw. It was difficult and she nicked her skin more than once, but it was working. Ever so slowly, the leather straps began to split open.

She was almost through the first strap when she sensed the air behind her stirring. Silence continued to saw frantically at the restraint. He was here. He’d made no sound, and she’d been listening, but he was here. As always, she could sense his very presence, as though the air shifted and made way for him wherever he went.

“You’re resourceful.” His voice was deep and dark and raspy. His words made her shiver with dread. He didn’t sound particularly mad about her escape attempt. He didn’t sound anything at all. His total lack of emotion was more frightening than if he’d bellowed in anger.

Silence almost sobbed with relief when the leather strap gave way. She clawed at the second strap, getting it undone. Not pausing to even think about why he was allowing her to do so, she sawed at the strap around her waist. Blood from several shallow wounds on her wrist dripped down her fingers, making it more difficult for her to work.

“How do you plan to get past me?” His question was thoughtful, almost as though he was curious about her intentions.

His voice was closer now, coming from the deep shadows behind her. The last restraint fell away and she lurched from the chair. She whirled around to face where she thought he was. She couldn’t see a thing.

“Stay away from me. I’ll kill you if I have to.”

No reply. But she knew he was there in the dark. Watching.

Tucking her short blade in her jacket pocket, she grabbed up her larger one. She wished she had a gun but they were in short supply and given to the men and women who went out daily on patrol in the outer city. Somehow she felt all the weapons in the world wouldn’t do her any good against this man.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Her voice was little more than a croak. Her throat was slightly swollen and fear made it close even more.

“Who are you?” he countered. She circled slowly. He sounded as though he was on the other side of the room. She damned the shadows that made it impossible for her to track him. There should be some indication of his movement—a stray sound, a breath, a wavering of the air. But there was nothing.

The man was a phantom.

She took a step back and hit the edge of the table. The candle teetered and fell to one side, its flame flickering before being extinguished. Darkness descended. Silence got a sick feeling in the pit of her belly. She had no idea how to get out.

Moving forward, she tried not to make a sound as she headed toward where she’d first sensed him in the room. It made sense that the entrance would be somewhere around there.

As before, there was no sound, no telltale giveaway, but she sensed him as he moved in behind her. Before she could react, his hands wrapped around her wrists. He didn’t squeeze them, but his fingers pressed some pressure points. Her hands opened and her knife fell to the floor, clattering on the dirt and stones.

He bent her elbows, crossing her arms over her chest. Because of the way he held her, his arms were crossed over her chest too. He surrounded her totally, much like the darkness.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was little more than a murmur in her ear. His breath ruffled the hair on the back of her neck, tickling the sensitive skin.

Silence licked her lips almost afraid to ask, “What do you want?”

The heat from his body seeped into her back, warming her. He was so warm and she was so cold. She wanted to lean against him and soak up his heat, but she held herself erect and as far away as his grip would allow. There was no safety, no solace to be found here.

“What’s your name?”

She thought about it and then decided that telling him might be in her favor. Maybe he knew her brother. It was possible Adrian’s name might get her out of here alive. “Silence. My name is Silence.”

He chuckled and the raspy sound stroked over her skin sending goose bumps down her arms. “Very apt. You’re an excellent tracker.”

“Obviously not good enough,” she countered, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone. Her entire life, it was the one skill she had that separated her from others. It had given her a place of respect within the resistance movement.

“No.” He rubbed his chin over the top of her head. “Not good enough.”

The matter-of-fact way he said it made her feel like more of a failure and that made her angry. Anger was a much better emotion to focus on than defeat. She could use anger to her advantage. “Who are you?” She figured if she asked him enough times, he just might answer her. And as long as he was talking to her, he wasn’t killing her, which was definitely a plus in her book.

“Why were you following me?” He pulled her back against his body, leaving no space between them. He shifted his arms lower on her chest, his wrists grazing her nipples, which stiffened from the unintentional caress. Or was it intentional? She didn’t know.

Heat washed through her, driving away the chill. She felt off balance by her reaction to this stranger. He was dangerous and a killer, of that she had no doubt. Why the hell was her body reacting so strongly to him? It must be some kind of Stockholm syndrome. Adrian had told her about the phenomena as part of her training on the off chance she was ever captured. Captors tried to build an emotional connection with their prisoners in order to get them to cooperate. The problem was, this man hadn’t done anything of the sort.

“Silence?”

She shrugged, or at least tried to. It wasn’t easy with him wrapped around her. From what she could tell, the man was solid muscle without an ounce of give in him. “You’re a stranger in the area. You’re not one of us and that means you’re probably from the inner city.”

“Ah.”

Now what did he mean by that?

“So you were sent to kill me.”

It wasn’t a question. “Obviously you have enemies, if you assume that?” Curiosity was what had gotten her into this predicament and it hadn’t abated in spite of her current situation. If she managed to get out of here alive, the more she knew about the man, the better.

“Hmm. If you weren’t sent to kill me, why were you following me?”

She tried to move, but his hold just tightened. He wasn’t hurting her, but there was no way she was getting free. Not in this position. Her only option was to talk to him and try to lull him into relaxing. Maybe then she could break free.