The Mountain Ch. 09

Now, he was pretending to be merciful. Diplomatic.

Was it all a ruse to lure the islanders into a false sense of security so that the warriors could murder them in their beds? And what of her? Had his comments about bedding her been meant to intimidate? Or, worse, did he truly intend to take advantage of her body when he wished despite casting her aside?

As if he could sense the direction of her thoughts, Warder looked at her, raising an eyebrow when he found that her attention was already focused in his direction.

The Mayor was fielding comments from the crowd.

Lucy realized that Cenia had moved into the empty seat to one side of Warder--no one among the islanders had been brave enough to sit directly next to him. She and Warder were discussing something quietly. Or, at first, they were quiet. But then their voices got louder and louder.

"It's important that they know the whole truth," said Cenia.

"If you think they will believe it, be my guest."

Cenia stood and Mayor Edwards looked at her in shock. "Is there something you would like to share?" he stammered.

Cenia gifted him one of her beautiful smiles.

We must seem like monsters to you," said Cenia, looking out at the crowd with tear-bright eyes that made her seem the farthest thing from a monster. "In truth, we are refugees. We had nowhere to go when we came to this island and it has always been our desire to let you live your lives as you wish. A long time ago, our leader made a decision not to tell any of you what brought us here."

Lucy noted that Cenia was careful to call Hadren a "leader" rather than a king.

"We have a new leader now"--here, she stole a glance at Warder-- "and while he is willing to let me tell you the truth about why we came here, he also thinks that you won't believe me."

There were murmurs in the crowd. A brave--or foolhardy--voice from the back: "Tell us!"

"We came here as refugees because we knew that others of our kind planned a siege on your world. You saw how easily we took our place on this island. Days after our arrival here, our people out there"--Cenia gestured to the world outside the island-- "did the same."

There were gasps in the crowd, a wave of whispered questions. Lucy stood stock still, staring at Cenia.

"We came here because we did not agree with the decision to rule over humans. We were not strong enough in our numbers to put down the siege, but we were strong enough to escape and to hide this island from view. It may not seem like it, but as far as we know--you are the last free humans in the world."

Cenia finished and sat down. Lucy was certain that her mouth was hanging open. Warriors--everywhere. Could what Cenia said really be true? That their kind ruled the world outside the island? That, in fact, the mountain dwellers were peaceful and kind compared to their kin on the mainland? Her mind raced and she thought of the antenna. It had seemed like such a small rebellion. If the warriors were lying, connecting with the mainland might tell them so. But if they were not--trying to reach the mainland could put everyone in danger.

"How can we believe that?" Sheera stomped down the aisle towards Cenia. "How can we believe you, when you're talking about him?" She pointed an accusing finger at Warder. "He was the one who held Lucy captive inside the mountain. He terrorized her. He hurt her."

"What harm came to your friend?" asked Cenia. "According to the treaty, we had the right to kill her. But Warder treated her as a guest."

Lucy almost laughed aloud at that. Still, she couldn't let Sheera speak for her. Couldn't allow her story to be the thing that turned the islanders away from an alliance with the warriors. Because, despite everything--she believed them.

"I'm not hurt."

The first time she said it, almost no one heard her. A few people in the back row turned to look, nudging the people sitting near them. But Sheera and Cenia were still focused on each other.

Her face flaming, Lucy stood up on the pew and cleared her throat loudly. "I am not hurt," she said. This time, her voice carried. "I was frightened. It was strange. But--they didn't hurt me. He--Warder--didn't hurt me. Their customs are different than ours, but what they say...it could be true."

Sheera spoke into the silence. "You aren't recovered, Luce," she said. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I can speak for myself," said Lucy. "I don't know that we should believe everything they say," she added, afraid to look at Warder, "but if they say it's dangerous to contact the mainland, I think we should hear them out before we insist on doing it."

Only Sheera and her father knew how close they might be to doing so.

"Thank you," said Cenia, her eyes still bright.

Lucy snuck a glance at Warder and what she saw made her sit down hard in her pew. For a moment, she had been certain she saw approval on his face, and it made her want nothing more than to take back everything she had just said if only to spite him.

Lucy's outburst had riled the crowd. People were talking now without any concern for protocol. Lucy heard conversations bursting to life around her, some agreeing with her and Cenia, others suggesting that they were both crazy. As the talking reached a fever pitch, Mrs. Monroe stood on her own pew and clapped her hands. Then, when the roar of talking failed to cease, she clapped again, using one foot to tap Horace Greenlee--a particularly loud talker--on the side of the head.

"This is a lot to take in. I'm sure the Mayor will suggest that we take a break for today. It's very late and no one wants to be wandering the streets after dark. For now, we should do nothing. The temporary truce stands. And as a sign of goodwill, I hope that you will open your homes to our...visitors...so that we can resume first thing in the morning."

"Thank you," said Cenia softly, "but we brought tents."

The crowd trickled out of the church, still discussing all that had happened. Lucy waited--not because she was heeding Warder's orders not to avoid him, but because she wanted the warriors to leave first. She wouldn't lead them directly to her parent's house even if they did already know it's location.

But while Mrs. Monroe finally finished tidying up the church pews, Warder motioned to her and they engaged in a quick conversation before the tiny woman took his arm and led him up the aisle.

"Lucy," she said, catching sight of her houseguest. "Commander Warder has taken me up on my offer of housing as a show of good faith. He says you're staying with him."

"What?"

"I did wonder if you knew that," said Mrs. Monroe tactfully.

"It might be better not to draw attention to my parents with the warriors in town," Lucy allowed begrudgingly. "But we cannot share a room."

Mrs. Monroe didn't flinch. "He can sleep in the guest room and you can have the couch." She caught the look on Lucy's face. "Well, I can't give him the couch, dear. He won't fit."

#

Lucy arranged the blankets and pillows Mrs. Monroe had given her on the couch. It was fairly comfortable, but it didn't matter. She wouldn't sleep at all knowing Warder was upstairs. The stairs of the tiny farmhouse had creaked so loudly at his ascent, it seemed possible he might even come crashing through the ceiling.

Lucy rearranged her pillows so that she was facing the stairs. Easier to see if anyone came down. She was only Warder's prisoner under the terms of the treaty--and the treaty had been dissolved.

But--she was still his mate.

She could feel it in her body, especially when he was so close. Could feel the claim he had on her. The desire she felt for him.

She heard footsteps over her head--Mrs. Monroe, readying herself for bed, completely unconcerned with the monster in her guest room. Of course, if Lucy were going to put her money on anyone in the town standing up to Warder and winning--it was probably Francine Monroe.

Lucy lay on the couch, her shoulders stiff, ready to spring up at any moment. She ran through the events of the day, culminating in Cenia's speech. Cenia had seemed to speak against Warder's orders. They had argued, hadn't they?

She turned the events over in her head. She realized that she knew Warder better than that now. He wouldn't have allowed Cenia to speak if she weren't saying something he wanted said. Which meant that Lucy had been manipulated into backing her up.

The realization gave her the anger she needed to master the fear. In a moment, she was quietly climbing the stairs, testing each one for creaks before she settled her weight.

The door to Warder's room was open.

And...she lost her nerve. She was about to creep back down the stairs when he called her name.

"Lucy."

She turned towards the door to find Warder filling the frame.

"What do you want?"

It was a difficult question. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

"You'll scandalize Mrs. Monroe," she said.

"I don't think she can be scandalized," said Warder. He stretched his arms over his head--as far as he could manage, considering the low roof--and then sat on the end of the bed that took up most of the guest room.

"I came because I figured out what you were up to today. You and Cenia."

"Oh?" asked Warder, his tone unreadable.

"You probably wrote that little speech of hers, for all that you pretended to be annoyed."

"And if I did tell her to speak?"

Lucy clutched the door frame, as if it could help to center her. To keep her from running back downstairs--or from slipping into the room and into Warder's arms. "I don't know. Is it really true?"

"I told you that my people didn't always live inside the mountain," he said. "You saw that our existence is--difficult. We would not live that way without reason."

"And you left because you didn't want to take humans as prisoners?" asked Lucy. "Yet you made me one when you found me on the mountain."

"Because I knew what you were. And I wasn't the only one. My soldiers are loyal, but word would have spread. And someone else might have come down the mountain to claim you."

"You were the better option?" said Lucy bitterly. "You were trying to save me?"

"I am an Alpha," said Warder. "I did what my instincts were screaming at me to do. And I did not claim you until you asked me to do it."

"Until I was out of my mind with sickness and would have said yes to anyone."

Warder let out a low growl that rumbled through the darkness. The sound went to Lucy's core, her body responding even as she felt a thread of fear. "Anyone," he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "What did you plan to do? Endure that 'sickness' for the rest of your life? You chose to come to the mountain that day, knowing the consequences. It could have been worse for you."

"And now you want me to believe that the entire world outside this island is worse? That you're here to save us?"

"I'm no one's savior," said Warder. "But I will protect as many of both of our people as I can."

"Why save the islanders?"

"You consider them your people," Warder growled. "Do I need another reason?"

"Don't pretend you are doing it for me."

She felt the silence that followed, felt him taking her in. He had a frustrating way of shrugging off things she meant to be serious and capturing other things, things said in anger, and turning them over and over, until she wanted to reach out a hand and ask for the words right back.

"Are you sleeping well, Lucy?" he asked finally. Purred.

She blinked. Of course, he would have noticed the circles under her eyes along with everything else. And no one would sleep well in a cave. Or with a hidden Alpha guard outside their house. Or on a strange couch.

"What are these negotiations really about?"

"I will open negotiations with you right now," said Warder, his voice a rough purr. "If you go downstairs, I won't follow you. You can sleep soundly. I give you my word."

"Your word?"

"I will not lie to you, Lucy," said Warder. "I never have."

She stood very still, turning over every word he had ever said to her. Searching for lies. She realized that her fingers were still biting into the doorframe. As if to hold herself upright. To keep herself still.

"You--" she stopped, biting her lip. "That's not a negotiation. I didn't ask for anything."

"What would you like to ask for?"

His gaze felt heavy, but he didn't say anything else. Probably because he knew that to speak would be to rescue her. The world seemed to tilt in the silence. To expand and contract with each breath--only she couldn't tell if she was breathing at all.

"You're trying to prove that what I said before isn't true. That it wasn't the sickness that made me want you."

"Do you want me, Lucy?"

The words were silky, almost a whisper. Nothing like his command in that moment before she had jumped inside the mountain.

Slowly, Lucy took a single step into the room. Her throat was on fire. No, her entire body. She was--was she sick again?

But this wasn't that. Or, it was some kind of temporary thing. She was drifting this time instead of falling.

She took another step and images of her and Warder together flashed unbidden through her mind. His body, powerful and beautiful. His scent of spice and ash and mountain air. His hands--

Another step. And then another and he seemed to know when she was as close as she could stand to go--close enough that he could reach out and gather her into his arms. He did so with a low growl, pulling her up between his legs and dragging them both backwards on the bed so that she was resting against his broad chest. She was immediately ready to bolt, but instead of trapping her there, he began to knead the muscles in her back, his hands moving gently, relentlessly up and down her spine. She leaned into him the slightest bit and she felt him tense and then relax backwards at her touch, as if he were afraid to frighten her away. His arms came around her, tangling in her hair, brushing up and down her arms, toying with the seams on the battered old t-shirt Mrs. Monroe had lent her to wear to bed.

Tentatively, she turned her head, inhaling his scent before she hid her face in his chest, embarrassed at how it felt to be near him. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, stroking her hair, and Lucy relaxed further, letting go of tension she hadn't known was there. She knew that any minute now, her body would burst into flame, giving way to that frantic, uncontrollable desire she felt for him when she was lost to sickness and heat. Knew that this comfort was nothing more than another manipulation.

"Lucy," Warder, speaking softly, close to her ear. "I will reopen negotiations once. You may go, if you go now."

She turned to face him, feeling for the planes of his face in the dark. She thought of the time he had shown her the stars. She thought of every moment they had spent together--every tear and sigh and moan.

She kissed him.

In the dark, she sort of missed.

He growled softly as she captured the side of his mouth and then his nose. He kissed her back, grazing her ear, her eyebrow, the curve of her neck. She moaned and he growled again in response and she realized that she was desperate to feel him closer and closer and--

"Mrs. Monroe," breathed Lucy. "She'll hear."

Warder slid her gently onto the bed and rolled so that he was looming over her, hiding her from the open door. "Then we must be quiet."

#

In many ways, he was still a stranger. But he knew her body intimately. He rolled over her, trapping her on the inside of the bed, as if he was afraid she would run. But she couldn't even think with his body so close. Quickly, he removed his pants, as if she might change her mind. Then, he helped her out of her pajamas, taking every opportunity to touch her--her shoulders, her wrists, the sensitive skin at the curve of her hip. Lucy blushed, wishing he would touch her breasts. Instead, he lowered his mouth, sucking at one nipple. Lucy gasped and Warder moved away from her.

"Quiet," he commanded.

In response, she reached for him, reveling in the feel of his skin under her hand. Slowly, she lowered her hand, boldly reached for him. He stopped her, gathered her other hand and held them against her stomach. When she was caught, he lowered his mouth to her core. He breathed against her and then his tongue pressed against her clit, rough and hot. Lucy bit her lip, but a small moan escaped.

Instantly, he stopped.

She lay still, trying to catch her breath, knowing that he would stop every time she disobeyed.

Quiet.

But his touch made her want to scream.

He seemed to know every time she was about to tip over the edge. He held her so still, demanded silence, and her body seemed to burn with every movement she didn't make, every sound swallowed in a soft gasp.

Just before she shattered, he rose up over her, pressing one strong hand against her mouth to capture her cries as an orgasm ripped through her body. She was still reeling from the sensations when he entered her in one, smooth stroke. He kept his hand over her mouth as he moved inside her, even when his knot grew, locking them together, filling her so completely that she couldn't remember what it felt like to be without him. He moved slowly so as not to rock the bed, and the leashed power of it thrummed through her body like the waves that had so recently tried to swallow her whole.

#

His mate grew tired, but Warder couldn't bring himself to let her sleep. Something had shifted between them, small, but significant. Things were still complicated. Nothing was resolved. But she had come to him even through her fear, even as her town rejected her and his people threatened everything she had ever known.

When she tried to speak, he captured her mouth--sometimes with his own, sometimes with his hand. He felt her breath catch each time he mastered her, owning her breath and her body. She placed both hands around his wrist and tugged. Once. Twice. Reluctantly, he let her speak.

She leaned up as far as she could with his cock pinning her to the bed, whispered in his ear. "It's the bond that makes it this way, isn't it? It's not--we don't have a choice."

For once, he found that he was unwilling to instruct her, to soothe her or explain. "I told you to be quiet," he purred into her ear. He pulled out of her and dragged her onto her knees, looming over her as his cock stood proudly between them. "Perhaps we can find something else for you to do with that mouth."

In this, he found he was willing to instruct her.

#

The next morning, Lucy awoke in the familiar tangle of Warder's arms. Light filtered through the lace curtains on the window. She kept very still, hoping that her mate would sleep while she sifted through the feelings that swept in on her as sleep fled.

She had chosen him. Again.

She remembered how she had given herself to him amidst the fever of that first sickness under the mountain. He had been demanding, dominant. But he had leashed himself until she asked him--begged him--to take her. Afterwards, she had been willing to explain it away. She hadn't been in her right mind. But last night...

Even after he had rejected her, she had been willing. She was more lost than she had realized. More trapped than she had been inside the mountain.

Warder shifted beside her and one hand tangled in her hair while the other slid down her body. She froze and Warder stilled.

"Are you afraid of me again, little mate?"

She blushed as she remembered how he had been forced to muffle her cries last night. "I'm tired," she said. It was an understatement, she felt empty, as if every ounce of energy and emotion in her body had been depleted.

"I would let you sleep--" he stopped when Lucy raised an eyebrow, remembering how he had kept her awake. "I would, but we must be at the church in an hour."