The Seeker Ch. 02

Hi again!

Thanks to those of you who offered kind words about the first short snippet of this story. It gave me confidence to write more. This part is a bit longer and there's still more character development and back story. I promise more steamy action in the next chapter, but hope you enjoy the story along the way.

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She felt like she was dancing. The breeze caressed the naked skin on her arms and legs. Laughter that sounded like bubbling water surrounded her and made her smile. Whispered promises of love and comfort swelled around her. She was a cup, filled to the brim with the feeling of ecstasy. She tried to move her hands over her head, to lift them toward the sky in reverence and supplication, frowning when she could not.

Laiyla.

A feeling of unease tried to worm its way into the periphery of her being. The sweet whispers grew louder and more insistent. She tried to open her eyes to follow the sound but saw only darkness. That was okay. The darkness was wonderful, a comfortable cocoon, a blanket she pulled tighter around herself as she gave in to the whispers telling her to come back to them.

Laiyla.

She heard her name, louder this time. She didn't recognize the voice calling to her. She knew she should try to place it. The feeling of unease grew. Colors began to swirl into her vision, patterns she should recognize dancing across her eyelids. She watched them for a while, transfixed. The whispers called to her, beckoning to her. She felt the sensation of being dragged under water, as if she was caught in a powerful current. Again, she tried lifting her hands, wanting to swim further into the darkness, trying to help the current carry her away, and again grew impatient when she could not...

LAIYLA!

Her eyes snapped open. For a moment, the world tilted dangerously, caught between the current of darkness and the awakening. There was no air, and she considered that she might actually be drowning. Then there was a sound like the snapping of a giant tree, and her lungs sucked in an involuntary breath that made her eyes water and her chest hurt. She gazed upwards and tried to focus. She needed to calm herself down. She counted her breaths, gradually slowing them and willing her heart to stop racing as she continued to look up at the sky.

Not the sky, she realized. The ceiling.

She was indoors.

After a time, when she felt she was sufficiently calm, she began to take stock of her situation. With deliberate slowness, she pulled forth her memories from the past several days. There was the relative normalcy of the Before, when her clan had been increasingly disturbed by disappearances and unexplained deaths of several of the older Fae women. Then there was the morning when she had awoken with the knowledge that the world had changed, the dread in her gut so painful that she had been sick before she had even left her bed. She had found Eila just a few hours later. Her best friend, her only true friend, the one person who knew both who and what she was and loved her anyway, had been butchered. Her beautiful face was almost unrecognizable. Her once vibrant blue eyes had stared forward lifelessly, having no future left to look forward to; her almost white blonde hair torn about her head in clumps that stuck together with blood and dirt. Sweet, lovely Eila. She shuddered with the memory, her eyes burning, and moved quickly past it.

Then there was her meeting with the Elder. The old Fae woman made the towering, ageless oak tree her home, and it was as much to the tree dwelling as to the Fae Elder that Laiyla had pleaded her case to. Neither had laid blame for her friend's death at her feet, but she felt the leaden weight of it pressing against her shoulders just the same. She knew there would be no going back to the life she had lived before Eila's last breath had been drawn. Spreading her fingers against the bark of the old tree, Laiyla had pushed wordless explanations of her past and her plans into the wood as she spoke more limited words to the Fae Elder. She told the Elder as much as she could without placing her clan in further danger. With tears streaming down her face, the Elder had held her chin between her bony fingers and had kissed her forehead, sending her away reluctantly with the blessing of the Ageless.

Then the days of wandering, of countless hours talking to the trees, of learning of the dark creatures that now plagued the woods she had come to love and call home. The cycles of dark and light melted together, and she could not remember how many days she had spent wandering in circles, waiting for the Shadows to come for her, offering herself up as bait in a trap that she understood would only catch herself, but would perhaps free those she loved dearly. She only knew that she had been weak with hunger and delirious from lack of sleep by the time she had finally seen what she had been waiting for.

The newest memories were sharp and clear. Her legs began to burn as she remembered the chase. Her head began pounding as she remembered being thrown against the tree. Her throat began to ache as she remembered the pressure of a giant hand around her throat. Then... A strange fluttering in her lower abdomen held her curious attention as she remembered the midnight black eyes dancing with firelight stripping her naked with their gaze, the feeling of an impossibly large body pressing against hers, the thickness of his manhood against her stomach...

She quickly turned her thoughts to other matters. She tried to bring her hands to her face to assess the damage and remembered the feeling of frustration and unease of earlier when she realized her hands had been bound and would not move more than a few inches in either direction from the center of her waist. She looked down, wiggling her toes tentatively as she did so. Although her ankles were also bound together, she could bring her knees up and extend them out without restriction.

Mercifully, she was out of her uncomfortable fighting leathers and dressed in a simple but comfortable cream-colored shirt. The shirt was obviously made for someone several times her size and the collar had slipped off her right shoulder, exposing the curve of her small breast. The shirt reached down to just below her knees. Underneath the shirt she was naked, and clean. Her cheeks burned hot with the realization that she had been stripped naked and bathed while she lay unconscious. A thin green fabric cord wrapped around her waist and looped around her wrists, bound with the same fabric that also held her ankles together. She was lying on a firm but not entirely uncomfortable surface. As she flexed and stretched the muscles in her lithe body as far as the cords would allow, she felt the soft material of a blanket underneath her. She was laying on top of a mattress.

She looked at the room around her. Stacked dark wood logs made up the walls. The room was large but comfortable. A stone fireplace dominated the wall facing opposite her, the glowing red embers remnants of the fire that must have been keeping her warm during her sleep. A window sat in the center of another wall, the glass thick and distorted. The night sky offered no stars or moonlight beyond the quartered pane. A large door sat opposite the window. The wall above her head was completely bare. Besides the large but simple bed with tall wooden posts, there was a well-crafted rocking chair facing the fireplace and a small bedside table to her right. A ceramic cup and glass pitcher sat on the bedside table. She swallowed hard, eyeing the clear liquid sitting in the pitcher, realizing how thirsty she was. Cautiously, tentatively, she cast out a small mental net with her mind. She was alone in the room, but she could feel the others. They were close. She withdrew the net quickly and considered her options.

Being careful to not move too quickly, she wriggled up into a sitting position. She drew her knees up and sat against the wooden frame of the bed, breathing heavily from the exertion and the pain the movement had caused. She could hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall. She tensed, her hands curling into fists. Her palm ached for the feel of her dagger. Her bare feet pressed into the mattress. The loose fabric of the oversized shirt fell further down her shoulder, completely exposing her right breast, and she struggled to cover herself. The footsteps stopped right outside her door. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and as the door opened, she pushed a silent prayer for strength and courage into the night beyond the window.

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Sitting at his desk at the end of the hall, his anger had flared when he felt her cast her mental net. He could almost see it, a nearly imperceptibly glowing wave washing over the cabin and surrounding area and receding back to her. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm. He stood up and gathered the papers he had been working on into a messy pile. His black eyes scanned the small workspace, and he eyed the small dagger he had taken from her back in the forest. He considered it for a moment, then picked it up and tucked it into the back of his thick leather belt.

He stalked down the hall, passing the kitchens and living areas, all warmly lit with the soft glow of evenly spaced lanterns. Smells of sausage and spice soup and freshly baked bread permeated the area around the kitchen and his stomach let out an insistent growl as he passed, reminding him it had been much more than a few hours since he had last remembered to eat. It could wait. There were more pressing matters.

He stood outside her door, trying to control the anger that was slowly rising within him as he thought about the Fae female behind the door. The tiny, seemingly inconsequential creature that had evaded him for years. The Fae, the Seeker, the girl for gods sakes, that had cost him more time, and gold, and good men than he would ever have believed possible. He simply could not wrap his mind around how much trouble she had given him throughout the years. It was infuriating.

He opened the door, expecting to find her cowering in a corner. Instead, she faced him almost proudly, her jaw set in a determined grin. She held herself as if she was wearing a formal gown instead of one of his hunting shirts, as if it wasn't falling down around her shoulders, as if she wasn't bound and restrained and had instead chosen to be there. He stood in the doorway, unmoving. For a moment, he forgot his anger. He regarded her silently and couldn't help but admire her attitude. Her small face stared at him intently, her piercing green eyes betraying her hidden fear only in a momentary flash before resuming their fierceness. Dark hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders. Her full lips were curled up in that ridiculously arrogant grin, and he felt the almost insuppressible urge to crush them against his own. A dark shadow of a bruise haunted her right cheekbone. In the soft light, in her ferocity despite her precarious situation, in her determination despite her binding cords, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

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Keep breathing.

Stay calm.

Don't cower. Don't cry.

Don't let him win.

It was a mantra she had to keep repeating as she sat enduring his raking stare. She felt as if he was taking inventory of her very soul. His eyes were liquid pools of midnight. She thought that she would drown in them. The scar that had given her such bravery in the safety of the forest now made a shiver run up her spine. Goosebumps stood out on her bare skin, despite the warmth of the burning embers. Muscles rippled beneath his black shirt as he took a step toward her. It took every ounce of strength and courage in her to keep from shrinking back. She swallowed a whimper and repeated her mantra.

Keep breathing.

Stay calm.

Don't cower. Don't cry.

Keep breathing.

With easy, fluid movements, he grabbed the chair from the fireplace and dragged it over to sit beside the bed next to the table with the pitcher. Never taking his penetrating stare off her, he lifted the pitcher and poured the liquid into the ceramic cup. His mouth curled up into a threatening grin. "You must be thirsty," he purred. Her stomach tightened, her tongue turning to sandpaper. She didn't answer. He sat down in the chair, finally eye level with her. She was sitting in the very center of the bed, but a single arm of his could reach out and touch her. She fought not to pull away as he picked up the cup and held it out to her. "Drink." It was not an offer.

She stared at the cup in his outstretched hand. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to drink whatever it was in that cup, despite knowing it was not just water. But she was Laiyla, the Fae Seeker, and she did not follow commands and cower to bullies. She looked up from the cup at him. "You first," she said, smiling sweetly.

Fury flashed in his eyes, but his grin widened. He placed the cup back on the table. Both arms reached across the bed and wrapped around her, pulling her toward him. She had been ready for this, and twisted her body toward him, kicking her bound feet out and connecting with his broad chest. She blinked. It was like kicking a brick wall. He hadn't even flinched. He laughed softly and kept pulling her towards him, grabbing her twisting feet and easily pulling her into his lap. He turned her and pulled her tight against him, so she was sitting with her back against his chest. One thick arm circled her arms and waist as the other picked the cup back up from the nightstand. In the struggle, the large shirt had slipped off her shoulders entirely and the fabric now lay bunched up around the cord at her waist. Her bare chest heaved as she sucked in angry breaths. Her skin burned where his arm touched her. He shifted her closer against him as he brought the cup up to her lips. His large hand slipped up her waist and he grasped her chin firmly.

"That was not a request, Seeker. Now drink." His deep voice rumbled through her. He forced the brim of the cup up to her lips and tilted it to her to make her drink. She almost choked but then managed to force down a swallow. She hated to admit it, but it was bliss. The liquid was sweet, cold and refreshing. It warmed her and cooled her all at once. She continued swallowing as he tilted the cup further, leaning her head back against his chest. She no longer cared what it was, or how she had come to take the first swallow. She sucked greedily at the cup as it emptied and would have licked it clean if he hadn't taken it away.

Gasping, she fell forward against his arm as icy warmth spread through her veins. Her head swam, and she felt her muscles slowly relaxing as she laid back against him. He pulled her close against him and tilted his head down to press his lips against her neck, smiling against her. "Good girl," he growled. She shivered and tried to move, but he held her tight.

She felt something pulse against her bottom as she squirmed uncomfortably on his lap, and froze as she realized that she was feeling his arousal. A calloused hand reached around and, almost gently, began kneading one of her small breasts. He flicked the small bud of her nipple with his thumb and groaned softly against her neck. Involuntarily, she arched her back, pressing into his hand. A small sigh escaped her. She tried to remember why she had been so frightened earlier, but his other hand began rubbing against the inside of her leg and she felt herself melting against him. Without meaning to, she cast a net around him and felt his hot need like a blade against her throat. Despite the way the drink had relaxed her, she felt a flash of panic at the realization of what was happening. As her net was falling away, she felt him recognizing it and felt his anger, instant and furious, rise up.

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She yelped as he shot to his feet, bringing her with him. He spun her around and all but threw her onto the mattress. Reaching behind him, he grasped the dagger he had tucked into his belt earlier and pulled it around to hold it in front of her. He watched as emotions paraded across her face; First confusion, then recognition, then fear, and finally, fury.

"You're going to use my own blade against me, reisnaig?" She snarled the Oden word for 'coward' like a slur. "Trevheighna sum preanni."

I welcome death.

He cocked his head in surprise. It had been a long time since he had heard the Oden language spoken aloud. She spoke it flawlessly, without infliction or accent. She was a bundle of surprises.

Her eyes danced with anger as he held the blade above her. He lowered it, and despite her brave words, he watched her flinch. He lowered the blade to the cords around her ankles and cut through them in a single motion. He brought the blade up to the cords around her wrists and sliced again. She blinked at him in surprise, and color rose to her cheeks as relief washed through her. Before she could get up, he lowered himself on top of her. He pressed against her and wrapped a hand around her neck, holding her dagger in his other hand as he supported himself on his elbows above her. He ached with desire, his cock straining against her as he stared down into her eyes.

"Cast your net on me again, keonai mouv, and I will give you the death you welcome."

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She stilled, his words crashing against her like a wave. Understanding washed over her. He spoke Oden. He knew her name. He knew what she was. He could feel her net, could recognize it for what it was.

Keonai mouv. Little one.

She knew then. He was not at all what she thought he was. He was not just a bully, a coward threatening someone smaller than him. He did not hunt her down and find her just to use her Seeker mind to gain power.

He was power. He would tear her apart. He would be the one to undo her.

Slowly, never taking his eyes off her, he rose to his feet. He dropped the dagger on the bed beside her.

"Drink more," he commanded, turning his back to her finally. "Someone will bring you supper. I would advise you not to kill the cook, she makes excellent soup and will be difficult to replace. You are weak and need sleep and food."

He left without looking at her again, closing the door behind him.