Men of Anderas II: Dak the Protector (18 page)

In two strides, he was around the table.
Scooping her into his arms, he held her close while she cried. Her
emotional pain sliced through him. He knew the pain of losing both
parents but he had King Zeth, Queen Arica and JarDan to help him
heal.
Who held you when you cried, baby
?

"Rian.” She whispered.

She was picking up on his thoughts again. He
slowly stroked her back, smoothing his palm against the softness of
her hair. Arica had done much the same for him whenever the
memories were too painful to deal with alone. The fire in the
cooking pit was little more than embers before Kierin’s sobs
quieted. With a shuddering breath, she tried to pull out of his
embrace, but he didn’t allow it. She gave up the effort and turned
her head to rest in the hollow of his shoulder.

"I don’t remember a lot of what happened
next. The transport crews moved the bins and, eventually, they
shipped the one where we hid. We traveled for several months before
finding this place.” She indicated the cave with a wave of her
hand. "My father said it was a perfect hiding place for the
crystal."

"He brought the damned thing with him?"

"No. I did."

She pushed herself off of his lap and
started down one of the dark corridors. "Don’t you want to see what
my family has died to protect?"

"Kierin, wait! You don’t have to do
this."

If she heard him, she gave no indication. In
her present state-of-mind, he could do nothing but follow her slow
progress down the darkened passage. The tunnel was black as sin
beyond the faint glow of the fire pit. Instinct urged him to return
to the main chamber for a torch. That same instinct warned him not
to leave Kierin alone. In the past two weeks, he’d learned to judge
her many moods by the expressions in those remarkable aqua eyes.
That’s what had him worried. There wasn’t a spark of life in her
eyes.

"Come back to the main chamber, little
witch. We can do this in the morning.”
Dammit, Kierin, where in
the hell are you going
? All he could do was follow the faint
sound of her soft slippers against the smooth rock floor and pray
to all the Ancients that there wasn’t a low spot on the ceiling. If
he were smart, he’d turn around and go back.

This tunnel was longer than the one to his
room. It was hard to judge distance in the total darkness but Dak
felt they walked close to half a mile into the bowels of the cave
before he noticed a pulsating glow ahead of them. Within minutes
the glow illuminated an opening into another chamber.

A quick glance around assured him the room
was empty. Kierin sat huddled against the stone wall, her knees
hugged tightly to her chest. When he knelt beside her, her gaze
never wavered from the center of the room where the pulses of light
were strongest.

“Little witch?” He asked softly, stroking
the hair from her face. “What is this place?”

“My father’s crime is on the other side of
that black stone outcropping.”

Her whispered directions held no emotion--no
life--and Dak shuddered in reaction. Whatever lay beyond his sight
was powerful enough to cause the deaths of an entire family and
everyone connected to them. Standing, he glanced once at Kierin’s
blank face before slowly circling the mass of obsidian stone. The
waves of energy were stronger the closer he got to the source but
he felt no threat. Considering his recent experience with crystals
this knowledge surprised him.

Whatever he expected it wasn’t what he
found. At the core of the pulsing light was a clear stone no bigger
than his thumbnail. The crystal itself wasn’t impressive but he
felt the energy emanating from it like the heartbeat of the
mountain itself. No, the crystal didn’t alarm him but the vessel
used to transport the stone broke his heart.

Nestled in the dirt was Kierin’s doll. It
was a pathetic excuse for a toy. Even the poorest of the villagers
on Anderas provided better for their daughters. It was little more
than rags tied together and knotted to form knees, elbows and feet.
The head, ripped open in a macabre display, cradled the stone. Like
a sacrificial offering, Kierin’s one solace--the final link to her
mother--forever desecrated in the name of science.

Returning to where she sat still huddled
against the wall Dak didn’t waste time with words. He scooped her
into his arms and headed back down the dark tunnel. When she turned
her face into his neck and gripped his shirt something squeezed his
heart. Something alien, unknown and
that
scared the hell out
of him.

Chapter Fourteen

Dak lay stretched across the bed, arms
crossed behind his head. Any hope that he might actually sleep
through the night was long gone. The flickering candle flame cast
eerie shadows across the ceiling and walls. Normally, the softly
shifting shapes worked better than a sleeping drug. Not tonight.
Hell, not for the past week, if he were honest. Undulating figures,
brought to life by his constant state of arousal, performed an
erotic ballet for an audience of one. He tried creating less
explicit images in the shifting shadows, like a child watching
clouds. It didn’t help. Nor did it help to extinguish the candle.
That’s when his cursed imagination really took control.

In the total darkness of the cave, he saw
her. Her face, soft in sleep. Her delicate body glistening from her
bath. That shimmering silver-white mass of hair, hanging loose,
begging for his touch. And her mouth. By all the Ancient Prophets,
a single taste of her mouth could sustain a man for life--or drive
him insane for want of more.

Muttering a string of curses in a variety of
languages, Dak lunged off the bed. There would be no more sleep
tonight. If he were home, he’d work off his frustrations with a
long ride across Falcon Tor or a rigorous workout with the Royal
Guard.
If I were home, I’d get rid of the problem with a trip to
a Pleasure Station
. He refused to think about the bitter taste
that thought brought him.

There was plenty of work to do around
Kierin’s fortress. The first week he worked on the corral fence and
out-buildings. Then he started repairing the doors to the different
rooms in Kierin’s home. All hung straight and tight in their
frames. He tightened joints in chairs and leveled the table. He
added shelves in every conceivable location and as fast as he
completed one section Kierin filled it. Why did women feel they had
to cover every flat surface; fill every nook with something? He had
to admit, though, that her delight in these simple additions made
him feel good. He felt so good about all that he accomplished that
he decided to do something special for his little crystal
witch--and
that
decision brought him to his current state of
arousal. Of course, since the night of his freedom from the stone a
hard-on was just a heartbeat away.

His bed was comfortable enough with the
extra mattresses but when he built shelves in Kierin’s room he saw
that her bed was nothing but a single mattress on a rock ledge. He
could and would make her a simple bed with wood left from the new
corral.

What demon possessed you to add this
torture to your fantasies?
The original idea was for a plain
wooden box with rope stretched between the sides to support her
mattress. He could only blame the raging testosterone for burning
away his common sense because now--
now
--the bed was alive
with sexual promise. Just a touch of his hand against the wood and
he pictured her in the bed and him with her. Oh, the things he
could teach her in this bed; the pleasure they could share. He had
fifteen days left of his commitment to Kierin. Fifteen days until
he could leave and find release at the nearest Pleasure
Station.

Well, damn. I think about a Pleasure Station
and everything goes limp. What the hell are you doing to yourself,
Dak, old man? First you bitch because you can’t get rid of a boner
and now you complain because you do. You have lost your mind!

Making his way through the softly
illuminated central room, he stopped long enough to add another log
on the fire. The temperature dropped significantly at night;
another sign of approaching winter. Throwing a heavy, wool cape
around his shoulders he made his way through the pre-dawn darkness.
The light of the full moon was more than adequate to see where he
was walking.

The horses acknowledged his presence with
soft whinnies. He fed them and released them into the grassy
meadow. Chores completed, he was free to work on
the bed
.
The store room at the back of the stable was bigger than the stable
area itself. Other than a couple of tables and a shelf along one
wall, the room was empty. Tools were scarce but he managed to find
a hammer and a handsaw but the file used to care for the horse’s
hooves was his only option for sanding the rough planks. Given the
original plan for a simple bed, these were perfect.

Dak activated the illuminating crystals set
into the wall with a casual wave, no longer intimidated by the
process. Another sign that it was time to leave before he started
believing in
all
of Kierin’s crystals.

The small bed of his original design was now
as large as his bed at Falcon Tor. When Kierin saw the bottom frame
she laughed and said she would need a bigger mattress. Every day
since she would gather basket after basket of soft moss for the
stuffing. She finished the new mattress yesterday and he would soon
finish the bed but he hadn’t let her see the bed since that first
day. He wanted to surprise her. The surprise would be if he didn’t
grab her, throw her down on the new mattress and end his
torment.

With nothing but the thick planks left from
the stable to work with he was limited in design. The headboard
curved across the top and when Dak ran his palm over the surface to
test the smoothness of the wood he pictured the curve of Kierin’s
hip. Instantly, his body reacted to the image.
Damn.
The
footboard was a twin to the headboard except that it was half as
tall.

He completed the frame days ago. All it
needed was the rope supports tied through the holes on the sides.
At least, it should have been--until his creative brain overtook
his logical brain and decided to carve the headboard. He didn’t
know if he would survive to finish it.

Dak grabbed a stool and started to work. For
about the hundredth time, he wished for his carving tools from
home. Working with wood was his passion and his extensive set of
tools made his designs come to life. As excited as Kierin was about
the plain box bed she saw the first day, he wished she could see
the cradle he made for Melodie before Elizabeth was born.
That
was a labor of love, idiot.
He ignored that little voice in his
head that asked what
this
design signified.

Using a small knife to carve the design and
a heated horseshoe nail as a wood burning tool the mountain scene
came alive. He touched the two central peaks and remembered the way
Kierin looked in the bathing tent in Cypriana. Her breasts small
and firm would easily fit his palm, the nipples hard and aching. A
waterfall cascaded between the peaks, flowing to the small lake at
the base of the mountain reminding him of Kierin’s hair. He
continued to stroke the waterfall, his heart pumping even more
blood into his already impressive erection. The slender trees along
the edge of the lake were her arms and legs--strong but delicate.
At the bottom of the design, along the lower edge of the lake he
carved tall, thick grass. It didn’t take a genius to know what
that
represented. Dak continued stroking the design,
tormenting himself, testing the limits of his control.

To hell with it!
His hand went for
the opening of his pants, needing the release--if only
temporarily--of his own hand. Before he could free himself from his
clothes Kierin’s voice called to him from the edge of the
corral.

“Dak? Breakfast will be ready in about ten
minutes. Will that give you enough time to finish?”

In about ten seconds before you
called
. Straightening his clothes, willing his body to
cooperate, he called back. “Great! I’m starved.”

“That’s it.” He mumbled to himself. “Finish
the damn thing! Today!” All it needed was the rope and Kierin could
sleep in her new bed tonight. He didn’t think his control would
survive additional work on the scene.

When he walked back into the central room
after washing up he helped her set the table. Thick, soft bread
still warm from the oven and sweetened stewed fruit completed the
simple breakfast of fried fish from the stream. They ate in
companionable silence for several minutes when Dak suddenly stopped
and looked at Kierin.

“What’s wrong?” He demanded.

She looked confused and glanced around the
room. “Nothing. Why do ask?”

“Something’s wrong, little witch. Why don’t
you save us both trouble and answer my question?”

Her confused expression hardened before she
dropped her spoon and blasted him with her anger. “What are you
talking about? For your information, I
did
answer your
question. I told you nothing was wrong and I meant it.
NOTHING
IS WRONG!”
She turned and stomped from the room.

“See. I knew something was wrong. You’re
yelling. Why are you angry?” He yelled at her retreating back.

Her answer was a screech to wake the dead
and something about men and curses.

“Damn. I just asked a simple question.
Women.” He mumbled to himself as he finished his breakfast.

“Your fish is getting cold!” He yelled in
the general direction of her room. A slammed door was her response.
“Fine. Go hungry. I don’t have time to baby-sit.”

The heavy door muffled her response and he
didn’t really want to know what she said. Shrugging, he cleaned the
table; wrapped her breakfast in a clean cloth and placed it beside
the oven to stay warm just in case she got over whatever it was
that was bothering her.