Obsessed (23 page)

“Harder!” Tiali cried, drawing Ranelle’s attention. “Suck me harder!”

An odd fascination came over Ranelle as she watched Cind dig her fingernails into Tiali’s buttocks and lick her clit. Ritt made hungry mewling sounds as she sucked Tiali’s nipples while caressing her own clit. Tiali’s head was thrown back, her eyes closed as she clenched her hands in Ritt’s hair and moaned.

Ranelle could not help but watch as Tiali’s body trembled and perspiration broke out upon her dark skin. The woman’s eyes flew open and she screamed as her body shuddered and vibrated with her orgasm. Ritt cried out with her own climax only moments later.

Dropping her gaze to the bath, Ranelle realized the water had gone tepid, and goose bumps had erupted on her skin. Smells of sex and jasmine surrounded her, mingling with the sandalwood scent of the cleansing gel.

Hands grabbed her wrists and Ranelle gasped as Ritt and Cind pulled her from the bath.

“You will come to love our master, as we do,” Tiali said as Ranelle stepped onto the flagstones.

Ranelle shivered as the cool air met her chilled skin. “I think not.”

“Zanden is such an incredible fuck.” Tiali began drying Ranelle with a soft towel. “His touch, his mouth, his massive cock—there is no lover like the Sorcerer on all of Dair.”

“I can dry myself.” Ranelle backed up from Tiali, but stumbled into Cind.

The three women giggled and began fondling Ranelle, caressing her breasts, belly and thighs.

“No,” Ranelle insisted as she tried to pull away, but they only laughed as though she hadn’t meant what she had said.

Ranelle clenched her teeth and called upon her magic. Power blossomed inside her, growing greater and greater in its intensity. Warmth poured through her limbs as she released the spell.

The trio froze and looked at Ranelle, confusion upon their faces.

A thought occurred to Ranelle at that same moment—if she could control these women enough to make them stop touching her, could she use her magic to command them in different ways? Perhaps get them to help her escape?

“I do not think the maid deserves pleasure,” Ritt muttered as she rose to her feet, glaring at Ranelle.

Tiali backed away. The woman narrowed her gaze, studying Ranelle, as though she knew what Ranelle had done.

“It is certain she is not worthy of our master’s cock,” Cind said with a scowl.

“Nevertheless,” Ranelle began as she tried to keep her voice from wavering, “once Zanden takes me to his bed, he will be finished with all of you.”

Ritt clenched her fists. “You lie!”

“He would never discard us,” Cind said, her blue eyes flaming, “for the likes of you.”

Tiali folded her arms, cocked her head, and continued staring at Ranelle.

Swallowing hard, Ranelle focused on letting the magic ease from her body, lending strength to her words. “I do not wish for this. But I am a Seer and I know this will come to pass unless you help me.”

“How?” Tiali raised a delicate eyebrow as she finally spoke. “He would behead each of us if he learned we dared to defy him. Our heads would be mounted outside with the rest of the traitors.”

Even as Ranelle’s gut churned at the mental image of Tiali’s words, the slight glimmer of hope grew stronger within Ranelle’s breast, enhancing her power. “Do you have any of the elixir you used to drug me?”

Tiali nodded, her full lips pursed in consideration. “Yes. Zanden gave it to us when you were brought in this morning.”

“Give the elixir to me.” Ranelle drew the towel tight around herself as the plan formed and grew in her mind. “I will make sure none of you can be blamed by Zanden for my escape.”

* * * * *

Ignoring the ache in his muscles from countless hours spent scaling the cliff, Jalen drew himself higher, closer to the precipice. Wind from the oncoming storm continued to blast into him, testing his strength and his abilities. Darkness crowded in on him, the swirling thunderclouds blocking the sun’s waning light.

If he should slip, his many years upon this world would end upon the jagged rocks below. Yet he held no fear for himself. His only concern was that he save his heartmate from a fate worse than death—from being forced to mate with the Sorcerer and bear his spawn.

By the time Jalen reached Ranelle, the storm would be in full force, making their escape that much more difficult. If only she knew her heritage and had been prepared… But it would be too risky to attempt the change in such powerful winds without the necessary skills and training.

Despite the darkness, Jalen knew he was close to the top of the cliff. The stench of evil had grown stronger with each fraction he gained in his climb.

Jalen’s senses alerted him to Toen’s approach before the Overseer silently landed on a nearby ledge in his bird form.

A cave lies just above,
Toen told Jalen in thought.
It will serve as suitable shelter ’til the storm passes.

I cannot wait out the storm before I rescue the maid.
Jalen pulled himself up higher, disregarding the pain lancing through his shredded fingers and blood oozing down his wrists.
She needs me now.

Toen’s mind-sigh seeped into Jalen’s thoughts.
As you wish, my brother.

Wind slammed into Jalen, forcing him to cling to the wall and halting his progress. A waterfall of stones showered down the cliff, within inches of his face. He paused as one of the falling rocks sliced his temple, then continued his trek, heedless of the pain. Mere feet, and he would reach the top.

And then he would find Ranelle.

* * * * *

The sky outside the fortress window had darkened from storm clouds by the time Ranelle was prepared to flee. She took one last look into the blackness as she belted the tunic tight over the breeches Tiali had charmed off a servant, and Ranelle hoped the pants wouldn’t drop to her knees during her escape. The boots Ritt and Cind had stolen from the men’s barracks were large on Ranelle’s feet, but they would do for the time being. She would need their protection in scaling the rock wall surrounding the fortress.

At her waist hung a rope that Tiali had found for Ranelle to use in descending the cliff. Her long hair was braided, the end tied-off with a strip of cloth and hidden beneath her tunic. If she was fortunate, at a distance she might be taken for a man.

The drug had finally worn off completely, and Ranelle’s senses told her it was safe to leave the room. She paused to look over her shoulder at the three women who were curled up on the bed, still naked and fast asleep. Ranelle only hoped she hadn’t given them too much of the potion, and that it would prevent them from remembering anything about her disappearance ’til the Sorcerer’s ire had died.

Ranelle’s heart pounded as she approached the door and whispered, “Niama,” praying that Tiali had given her the correct magical password. To her relief, the door silently swung inward.

She stole into the darkened hallway, and the door quietly shut behind her. Bearing to the left as Cind had instructed, Ranelle moved toward the light at the end of the hallway. It would be Zanden’s suppertime soon, and all the servants were supposed to be in the kitchen seeing to his meal. According to Ritt, the Sorcerer was having an extravagant dinner prepared to go along with the evening’s activities he had planned for Ranelle.

Her gut churned at the thought and she had to fight the instinct to run as fast as she could rather than move as stealthily as possible. She reached a set of stone steps at the end of the hallway, just as Cind had told her there would be. A torch was mounted in a bracket, its flames spitting and hissing in the quiet.

Wind wailed through cracks in the stone walls, the eerie sound sending shivers along Ranelle’s spine. The rope slapping her thigh, she hurried down the stairs trying to keep her boots from clomping. Every slight sound was loud and harsh to her ears and she feared Zanden could hear her from his chamber.

The twists and turns seemed endless. If it were not for her keen memory and her confidence in having remembered the exact directions, Ranelle would have thought herself lost long before she finally reached the dungeons and the door leading to the outside.

Just as she grasped the handle, Ranelle’s senses spun as the knowledge hit her—

The Sorcerer had discovered her missing.

Terror clawed its way up her throat and she struggled to force it back down. With a deep breath she opened the door that led to freedom.

Wind blasted into Ranelle, so fierce and cold that she stumbled back. She regained her balance and plunged into the swirling darkness, shutting the dungeon door tight behind her.

As she fought to gain her bearings, wind and rain pelted her face. A flash of lightning illuminated her surroundings and her breath caught. Three steps farther and she would have stumbled over the precipice. The crack of thunder rattled her soul and her spirits sank as she realized it was too dark to make her way without plunging to her death from the cliffs.

Might death be better than what she would be forced to do with the Sorcerer?

Decidedly, yes.

With renewed determination, she started to remove the rope from her waist. Lightning flashed, illuminating a shriveled head mounted upon a spear.

Ranelle opened her mouth to scream. From out of the storm, a hand clapped over her mouth from behind her, choking off the cry. The rope dropped to her feet.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist and held her prisoner.

While the storm lashed the night, terror made Ranelle go rigid as she was pressed tight to a massive chest, a large hand firm over her mouth.

“Shhh,” a deep male voice murmured in her ear, the warmth of his breath licking through her. “You have yet to earn your wings, fledgling.”

That voice. Where had she heard it before?

I am Jalen,
the man said in her thoughts, startling her further. Only Liana had ever spoken in Ranelle’s mind before.
I have come to rescue you.

Jalen—this was the man who had followed her in the village. The realization came to her in a warm wave that momentarily erased the cold bite of the storm. This was the same man who had rescued her from the burning tavern. And the same man she had run away from to warn Tierra.

Aye.
Jalen released his hold on Ranelle’s mouth, turned her in his arms and pressed her tight along his length.
And a merry chase you have led me on.

Another flash of lightning illuminated his chiseled features. Thunder rumbled as every thought fled her mind. She stared up at him, lost in his devastating smile, and those firm, sensuous lips. He was drenched, as she was, rain coating his handsome face, his sleeveless tunic clinging to his muscular body. Cuts bled on his powerful biceps, yet seemed to already be healing. Another scrape was at his temple, and something blue glittered at his forehead.

How had she not sensed this man’s approach?

Jalen took her face between his hands and brushed his lips over hers. The slight contact took Ranelle’s breath away.

When he withdrew, she saw that his fingers and wrists were covered with wounds. “You are hurt,” she said, reaching out and cradling one of his injured hands in her palms.

It is nothing. All will be healed by morning.
He smiled, but then urgency replaced the gentleness in his voice.
We must seek shelter.
His words brought her back to reality and the imminent danger threatening them both.

Ranelle’s senses flared, and she could feel the Sorcerer’s wrath as he searched the fortress with his mind. Soon he would begin to hunt for her outside in the storm.

Jalen led her to the edge of the cliff, where a glittering rope was already secured around a massive rock that jutted up like a granite finger. Climb on my back, he instructed as he crouched.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Ranelle complied, wrapping her arms and legs tight around the man, beside his bow and quiver.

With incredible masculine grace and ease, Jalen grabbed the rope and began descending, as though he bore no weight but his own. Her wet body pressed against his, and she was amazed as his warmth seeped through her clothing, chasing away the chill.

Irani shrieks echoed through the stormy night, and Ranelle knew the Sorcerer had released all his beasts in search of her.

While Jalen scaled the cliff, lowering them on the shimmering rope, he replied,
Aye. He has sent his irani along with the sum of his Nordain followers.
Jalen’s voice was calm in her mind, as though he and Ranelle had not a concern in the world.

Another flash illuminated the skies and Ranelle gasped at the sight of countless irani circling above—along with smaller winged creatures, most likely traitorous Nordain warriors in their raven forms.

Hold tight,
Jalen commanded as he paused in their descent, resting his feet on a narrow shelf.
And do not make a sound.

Ranelle gripped him harder, and then almost screamed as Jalen jumped from his perch and swung straight toward the cliff wall. She buried her face against his shoulder and clung to him, a prayer to the gods ringing in her head.

Jalen couldn’t help but smile as he swung them toward the cave Toen had earlier discovered in the cliff side. When they reached the hidden entrance, Jalen landed lightly in a crouch. Smells of old irani dung and ancient dust met his nose, and Ranelle sneezed.

Still holding the rope, he eased Ranelle from his back and faced the opening. He murmured a soft command, and the magical rope released its hold on the rock above. It returned to him, landing in a sodden, glittering pile at his feet.

He wondered where Toen was sheltering from the storm, but he did not have time to dwell upon it. Jalen raised his hand, his palm facing out. Golden light glimmered at the cave’s mouth, and then they were enshrouded in darkness. The invisible wall of protection would shield them from the storm, and hide them from the irani and the Sorcerer.

Ranelle’s soft gasp came from behind him, and he realized she could not see in the dark as he could. He turned to her and held out one hand. A ball of light sparkled in his palm, the golden glow flickering and illuminating Ranelle’s wide silver eyes. With a slight movement, he encouraged the ball to float to the ceiling where it melded with a rock, its radiance enough to lend gentle luminosity to the small cave.