Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (9 page)

me.” He withdrew and fetched a cloth with which he

 

blindfolded me. I cared not, but then he did indeed change his

 

tack. “So now that you cannot see me, I can be anyone,” he

 

whispered suggestivelyinmyear and gave myearlobe a little nip.

In the wake of the other, I was annoyed more than troubled—even when his fingers began to explore my chest and play about my nipples. I snorted with disdain. This seemed to annoy him. He began to pinch and twist until I grimaced and twitched. That seemed to please him, and he returned to murmuringinmyear.

“I have heard you surrender to your Frenchman with abandon, and allow himto do anythingto you.”
My heart skipped a beat and my Horse stood trembling. How could he have heard sucha thing?
He chuckled cruelly. “Ah, there we are,”he purred.
His fingers returned to my member. I no longer feared its involvement inthis atrocity.
“Does he tell you that you are tres jolie when helpless? Or do you prefer himgrunting like an animal? He does that quite well fromwhat I saw. What does he call you? Does he call you Willas your sister does? Is that it, Will?”

His words were insidious but dismissible; but his hands

His words were insidious but dismissible; but his hands were all over my body: gentle and intimate, punctuating the flow of their caresses with pinches and twists that made me gasp. I could not tell where he would strike next. They reminded me of… Gaston.

I howled into the gaginfrustration.
Thorp howled in triumph, and then he was in me again, slapping and humping and riding me with abandon. My Horse took the bit in His teeth and ran: carrying me into the howling winds. I had been this way before with Shane upon my back. I could do nothing but hold on, and then I realized I need not do that. I let go, only to scream as I fell: as we fell: as we plunged into oblivion.
Sometime later I found myself face down on my pallet, the stocks still about my ankles, the gag and blindfold still tight about my face, and my hands bound behind my back. I was numb and distant. I could onlycry.
When next they came for me, I was pulled upright and the gagremoved onlylongenoughto pour water downmythroat so that I felt I was drowning. Then my hands were bound before me and pulled above my head until I stood on my toes. My ankles were still in the stocks. I balanced there, devoid of emotion, until I smelled Thorp: all stale wine and rosewater. He began his game of caressing and pinching, and I could not controlmyself:I beganto screamand buck.
Thenit stopped.
He was gone. I stood poised once again on the brink of hysteria, listeningintentlyfor his return.

Someone uttered a strangled cry, and then there was

Someone uttered a strangled cry, and then there was thrashingand dullmeatysounds. I smelled blood.
And then
He
was there: Gaston: his breathing: his smell: his presence.
“Will?”he whispered.
The blindfold was pushed from my eyes, and I beheld glittering green orbs as familiar to me as the sun and the moon. I did not see love in them, only fury incarnate. My Horse recoiled, and I gasped as tears filled myeyes anew.
He pulled the gag free. “Quiet!” he hissed. He stood still and cocked his head to listen. I heard the thunder ofmen running about the deck above, but little else.
Gaston had a beard. I did, too. That was important somehow.
He dove atop a bloody body on the floor. It was Lots: little of him had not been stabbed. My matelot found the keys and released the stocks first. Then he slashed the rope holding myhands aloft, and I fellagainst him. He lowered me to the floor

withcare.There was movement in the doorway, and Gaston

whirled, cocking the knife he still held to throw. It was Pete. I smiled weakly in greeting. The Golden One did not return it. He cringed at the sight of me, and shame blossomed in my heart. It seemed a small thing compared to the guilt I saw in our lion’s eyes, though.

I knew not what to think, and I gave a hoarse sound and tore the gag and blindfold from my head. When I looked up again, Pete was gone, and Sarah and Striker stood in the doorway. Their expressions showed the same guilt, but deeply doorway. Their expressions showed the same guilt, but deeply hued withpity.

I looked to Gaston, willing himto meet my gaze. He did, and still all I saw was fury; but his armwas tight about me, as if he would never let me go. I found comfort inthat.

“Canhe walk?”Striker whispered.
Gastonspit onLots’ body. “I willkillthem!” “And us, aye, aye,” Striker said hoarsely. “Damn it,

there’s no time. Can Will swim? God knows what we’ll do if he

 

can’t.”“I will care for him,” Gaston snapped. “See to your wife

inthat skirt.”
“Swim?”Sarahwhispered frantically.
“Aye, strip,”Striker hissed and slipped out ofthe room. “I canswim,”I breathed.
Gaston turned back to me. “Like Hell you can!” He

doffed his baldric and strapped it around my chest. “I know this hurts, but I willneed it to hold you.”

I did not understand, and I did not care: I trusted him. I touched his face. “I knew youwould come.”
He hissed, and thenhis hand was at the back ofmyneck and our foreheads were pressed tightly together. “Do not make me cry!”he gasped. “Do not! Do not!”
I understood.
He took a deep breath, his gaze boring into mine, and then his mouth was upon mine. His kiss said everything I needed to know: I was loved: I was loved so much it drove himmad to see me as I was.
When he pulled away, his eyes were more Man than
When he pulled away, his eyes were more Man than Horse, and he held me fiercelyfor a moment before standingand pulling my protesting body with him. I tested my legs and found they could barely hold me. I wrapped my arm about Gaston’s

shoulder.Sarahhad shed her dress and was now waitinganxiously

in the doorway wearing only her shift. She glanced at me with worry. “Should we not find himsome clothes?”
“Non!”Gastonsnapped.
She regarded him with alarm. “There is no need to be angrywithme.”
He glared at her and snarled, “Youlook well.”
She flinched and backed away, her gaze steadfastly not onGaston’s or mine.
Striker dove into the room and looked at me and Gaston. Mymatelot nodded tightly, and Striker stuck his armout the door and gave a signal. Gaston lowered me down behind the barrel I had so often been tied over. Striker and my sister crouched nearby.
“How are we…”Sarahbeganto ask.
“Cover your ears,” Striker said. “When the water comes, we must push our way up it. Getting out the hole will be the hardest part. It’ll be on the waterline, but we don’t know how fast she’ll sink. Once we’re clear of the ship, it should be safe to swim on the surface. The
Queen
is distracting them and it’s night. Don’t lose Pete. You’llhave to hangonto him.”
I looked to Gaston, and he nodded grimly. “I will hold you,” he said in French and hooked his hand in the baldric to demonstrate.
demonstrate.
I nodded mutely. Then Pete was diving into the room and Gaston pulled my head to his chest and covered his own withhis arms.
The night was torn asunder by an explosion that rang in my ears despite their being covered. It shook the wall of barrels beside us, and the boards beneath my feet. The ship shuddered and groaned. I could hear the gushofwater before Gastonstood and towed me out into the passageway that ran forward up the hold. Water was pouring in fromthe bow, and we waded into it. Pete laughed as he slung Sarah over his shoulder and pushed his way against the raging current that pulled my legs out fromunder me. Gaston towed me deeper into the darkness and water, and I clung to himas best I could. Striker shattered a lamp across the hatch stairs as we passed. I looked back and saw fire spreading across the dry wood above us. I saw Sarah’s petrified face in the firelight, and knew I should be terrified, too; but my addled mind was elated. Pete had blown a hole in the hull and Striker had started a fire. The damnship was goingto sink.
We pushed into the dark. The water rushing in did not wish to give us passage out. I held my breath as Gaston dragged us through the hole. My lungs ached and my bruised ribs screamed anew as if the bastards were at me again with the knotted rope, and my lacerated skin burned as the water bit with cold and saltyfangs.
Then we were through, and all was darkness in which I could feelthe great behemothofthe hullrushingby. At last I saw stars and the moon. I gasped air and clungto Gastonand tried to tread water.
“Float,”he ordered.
I thought finding the necessary calm would be impossible, but I did it: stretching out on my back and surrendering myself to the sea and him. The night seemed peaceful, with the moon shining brightly in a cloudless sky; but behind us, there was hell upon the water as the frigate sank: a symphony of explosions and flames, woven into a melody by yellingmen.
Gaston began to swimaway fromthe chaos and into the night. I knew he could swima great distance, even towing me as he was by a hand hooked into the baldric beneath my back; but he seemed to be swimming into eternity and I doubted we could reach it. To my right, Pete swam with Sarah, and Striker was beyond them. I was afraid of sharks for but a moment, until I realized the animals must surely be too entranced by the insanity we were escapingto bother withus.
After what seemed a long time, Pete gave a whoop of triumph and we changed direction slightly. I craned my head back and let the water splash over my face in order to see what we neared. There was a low, dark shadow on the water, and it resolved into a boat withtwo mendraped inblack aboard her.
Their hands reached for me, and I flipped over and away fromthem. I did not wishto cross the Styx.
Gastonwas at myside. “Will, get in!”
“I amnot dead,”I protested.
“Will, trust me!”
I nodded reluctantly, and moved to the boat. The hands reached down and pulled me aboard by the baldric and whatever limb they could grasp. I was afraid Gaston would not follow, but he dove out of the water and tumbled aboard. Sarah was hoisted in next, and then Pete and Striker followed her. The little craft was crowded. I clutched at Gaston, and he pulled me to sit betweenhis legs.
“Afraid ya wouldn’t see us,” one of the boatmen said. “We were gonna light the lamp, but then the damn sloop slowed.”
“The bastards should be busy enough not to come lookingfor us,”Striker said.
“Let’s hope,” the boatman said, and began to row. “How ya be, Will?”
I shuddered against Gaston: knowing the man speaking was flesh and blood and someone I knew, but not being able to free myselfofthe fantasyhe was Charon, either.
“He has beenpoorlyused,”Striker said.
“Truly, why?”the other boatmanasked.
“I was inHell,”I said.
It was true: I had been in Hell, and now the boatmen were takingme back to the land ofthe living.
“Thank you,”I said to all.
No one spoke for a time, and I looked about and saw a much larger dark shape ahead ofus. It was not land, but another

ship. “The
Queen
?” I asked Gaston, hoping I truly had a grasp ofthe situation.
“Oui,”he breathed.
“He lied,”I said. “The Devillied.”
“What?”Striker asked.
“Thorp said yousailed by,”I said.
“We did,” Striker said. “We had to get ahead of themin order to drop us over the side in this boat. We drifted close in the night and thenswamto the frigate.”
“Ah,” I said. I did understand, but I pictured them crossing the Styx with knives in their teeth, and the souls of the damned swarmingallaround theminthe black water.
We were challenged byCudro’s magnificent voice as we approached, and our friends hooted with joy. All were elated to see us as we were pulled aboard. I wished to be elated, too; but when confronted with the wall of hands and grinning faces, I chose to hide behind Gaston. And then they stopped smiling and a hush came over them; and pity and guilt pinched their features; and I felt very naked and exposed: my shame a thing for all to see.
“God, Will,” Cudro said quietly. “Here we were thinking we had to rescue you from sitting on the quarter deck drinking tea. I’msorry.”
“Why would you think that?” I asked. Did they not understand myfather and his ways?
Gaston was a statue ofcold fury. “Seven days!” he spat. “Sevendays youwaited!”
The Bard swore. “I will not take the blame for three of them! Go hate Savant! We caught themas fast as we could.”
“Stop!” Pete roared. He turned on Gaston. “You! YaSaidYa WouldBeCalm IffnWeWeGot’Im. NowWeDo. AnYouWereRight. IShouldNa’O’Let’EmGo. IShoulda’Slashed ThatBugger’sThroat. But WeCanna’Change What’AppenedNow.” He shook his head with anger. “SeeTaYurMan.”
Gaston nodded glumly, and put an arm around my shoulders and led me to the hatch. I did not wish to go into another hold, but that was where we went. I did not argue. Once below, he took up the lantern near the stairs, and we stooped— as the
Queen’s
hold was much shallower than the frigate’s had been—and went to a small space next to the cabin bulkhead. It was bounded bycrates and barrels muchas myprisonhad been, and even had chains and a loop drilled into a beam; but it contained Gaston’s medicine chest and our bags.
Gaston regarded the space with a dismay to mirror my own. He took several ragged breaths and pressed his hands to his temples as he often did when suffering a bout:to massage the dark thoughts away. Then he dove into motion. He snatched up the chains and ejected them from the hold. I heard them clatter onthe deck above. Thenhe beganpushingthe barrels and crates into different arrangements. I sank to the floor and watched as he fashioned a low, covered alcove of sturdy things, and lashed them into place so they would not collapse. It was a den, and I crawled into it without question. Gaston shoved our things in behind me. I noted our weapons were missing. We only had the knives he had possessed during my rescue. Then he went back out amongst the provisions and returned with dried fruit, boucan, water, and the lantern.
I touched his beard when he knelt before me. “How long?” I asked. How long had I been captive? How long had he

beenmad?

beenmad?
“Nearlythree weeks,”he said witha ragged sigh. Then the tears came, and we were in one another’s

arms. I held himas if my soul would be sucked frommy body if he did not anchor me. He clutched and clung as I did, until the wave ofsobbingand mutualreassurance passed.

I finally slid down to lie with my head in his lap. I was exhausted beyond measure, but I was afraid to sleep, lest this be nothingbut a dream.

He pulled the food and water closer, and offered me little pieces and sips. Once my belly finished clenching with surprise at the first pellet of sustenance, I found the strength to chew and swallow until I felt full for the first time in… three weeks. I found it difficult to believe so much time had passed. I must have beenunconscious more thanI knew.