Rapture's Etesian (3 page)

“Damn it, Aunt Galatea!” Kynthia growled beneath her breath.

For more years than she cared to remember, her aunt and sisters had been trying to saddle her with a mate. For just as many years, she had balked at the notion and refused to give in to their silly antics. If it wasn’t a man they’d purchased from the vicious Amazeens, it was a traveler they’d waylaid along the road and dragged home in chains, drugged out of what feeble mind he had to begin with and completely used before being foisted off on her.

This one was by far the handsomest offering to date, but despite his obvious male beauty and excellence of body, Kynthia wasn’t in the least bit interested. Dark, curly hair, long eyelashes and perfectly chiseled features might entice women like her sisters, but they did nothing for Kynthia save annoy her.

Sha
king her head at the ridiculousness of her aunt’s continual ploy to shackle her with a man, Kynthia turned away, the naked man on the bed already out of mind until the raspy voice stopped her.

“Woman?”

Rolling her eyes, bracing herself for either the hateful sting of the prisoner’s spleen or the uselessness of him pleading to be set free, Kynthia turned to find the warrior staring at her. “What?” she snapped.

“Water?” he whispered.

Knowing her sisters had used the man brutally, a tug of compassion touched Kynthia’s tight jaw, relaxing the clenched muscle. She looked to the bedside table but there was no water carafe sitting there. It was just like her sisters to abuse the ignorant prick then deny him even the most simple of creature comforts. Erinyes was known to starve a man for days on end until he did her bidding without complaint. How long this one had been held Kynthia could not know for she’d not been home for two weeks and had been expected three days earlier.

“How long have you been here?” she queried.

“A day,” he answered weakly. “Longer. I don’t know.”

His accent intrigued her for she knew a Venturian when she heard one though she had never spoken to one of that country’s warriors. A light brogue—not unpleasant to the ears—slurred his words as much as his apparent weakness slowed it. His voice was deep, the inflection of his words bespeaking of a higher class of citizen.

“I am thirsty. Water?” he asked again.

Letting out an annoyed breath, Kynthia left the room and tramped down the stairs. It didn’t matter if her footsteps woke the entire household. Truth be told, she was up to verbally—if not physically—sparring with one or more of her sisters. After pouring a goblet of water for the stranger, she went to the cupboard in the dining area and poured herself a generous libation of Chrystallusian brandy. Stomping back up the stairs—angry that no one had ventured forth to quiet her heavy footfalls—she flounced into the room and stood there with both goblets.

“Are you the one for whom they attacked me?” he asked, licking his lips as he stared at the goblet in her left hand.

“I knew it!” Kynthia snapped. “I need to have a long talk with my aunt!”

“You weren’t a part of it?” he asked, trying to swallow. “You didn’t ask them to kidnap me?”

“They had no permission from me, I can assure you!” she replied. She placed the brandy on the bedside table then bent over the prisoner, sliding her right hand under his head to lift it. She placed the goblet of water to his lips.

The ripe cherry smell of tenerse was heavy in the air as she leaned over him. She pressed her lips tightly together, for that was one drug she found almost as detestable as the deadly Maiden’s Briar, used on the tips of the scimitars of Hasdu warriors.

“Did they drug you?” she asked, and straightened up a little as he pulled his mouth from the goblet to answer her.

“Shot me,” he said, cocking his head to the left.

Kynthia looked down and saw the dark slash against the tan of his muscular arm. “Must have been Haidee,” she commented. “She can’t hit the side of a stable when she’s standing right beside it!”

He licked his lips, his action pleading silently for more water so Kynthia gave it to him. When the goblet was drained, she eased his head back to the mattress and straightened.

“You are Kynthia?” he asked again.

“Aye, that I am.”

“So what is wrong with you?”

“With me?” she gasped.

“You can’t get your own man so they have to steal one for you?”

Kynthia lifted her head. “I don’t want a damned man!”

“Oh, you’re one of those and they are trying to break you of chasing skirts, eh?” Though his words were insulting, there was no fire in them.

“Why do all men think if a woman has no use for them she craves another woman?” Kynthia sneered.

“Because that is the way of it,” he told her.

“No, it isn’t!” she spat. “I have no use for a man because I don’t care to be a slave to one! I can go and come when and where I please. I am not answerable to anyone other than my own conscience. I am not forced to clean for some sloppy man or cater to his slobbering needs. I don’t have to wash or mend his clothes or get up at the break of day to cook his meals or stay up long after I should be sleeping so I can warm his bed! I don’t have to endure his pawing or have him ramming into me whenever the whim strikes or feel his slimy cum running down my damned leg!”

“You’re nothing like your sisters, huh?” he asked.

“Why aren’t you erect? I’m surprised you’re still not as stiff as a Chalean blade,” she mumbled.

“I would be if your aunt had not taken pity on me,” he said softly as he closed his eyes.

Kynthia blinked. “My aunt?” she questioned.

“The little woman with white hair,” he answered.

Suspicion narrowed Kynthia’s eyes. “What did she do?”

Despite the limited light cast from the moon glow through the windows, Kynthia saw the blush that stained the warrior’s cheeks. He opened one eye to look up at her. “She’s good at her craft,” he replied. “Her Ocnus taught her well.”

Kynthia’s mouth dropped open and shock widened her pale gray eyes. “You lie!” she accused.

The warrior opened his other eye. “Why would I and for what purpose? I’m as good as dead anyway.”

“We’re not going to kill you, idiot. Come morning, they’ll turn you over to the Amazeens since I don’t want you and—”

“Aye,” he snapped. “I’m as good as dead.”

There were worse fates than being sold to the Amazeen, but most men didn’t believe so. Apparently, this one felt being handed over to the women warriors was a death sentence. As well it might be, if he did not behave.

“She lay with you?” Kynthia wanted clarification.

“Which one?” he snorted.

“My aunt, fool!”

“No,” was the reply in a voice that was stronger than before and filled with annoyance. “She sucked my cock.” He smiled faintly. “And was damned good at it, I must admit.”

Stunned to the very core of her soul, Kynthia staggered back. She was staring at the bound man as though he were a demon from the slime beneath the Abyss.

Leksi Helios studied the woman standing so rigidly at the foot of the bed upon which he was chained and wondered why she was so astonished by his statement. Surely, he was not the first male to be helped by this woman’s aunt.

After a long moment of charged silence, young woman shuddered. “I want you out of this house now!” she hissed. “I’ll take no chance on Galatea coming near
you
again!” She knew the key to the lock attached to the chain was on a cord draped over one of the foot posts. She snatched it off the foot post and made quick work of the shackle binding his left ankle.

Flexing his leg as his ankle was released, Leksi winced as the lock on his right ankle sprang loose for the woman’s nails had scratched him in her haste.

“Interfering old crone,” the woman was mumbling as she came around the side and unlocked his left wrist. “Meddlesome old witch!”

Leksi’s arm was asleep and fell uselessly upon the mattress when the shackle popped open. The sting of pins and needles pricking him as blood returned to his limb and the aching pull of his shoulder having been flexed at an awkward angle when he tried to raise it, made him wince as he listened to the litany of insults being heaped upon this woman’s aunt.

“Nosy old hag!” Kynthia swore. “Why the hell can’t she leave me alone? She knows I have no use for a rutting male!” She opened the lock on the warrior’s right wrist then stood there glaring down at him. “Get the hell up and out of my sight! Do you hear me?”

Leksi’s limbs were all but useless as he tried to push himself erect. The coverlet was hindering his legs and his arms so weak he could not throw aside the obstruction.

“Oh, for the love of Alluvia!” Kynthia cursed. She reached down, snagged the coverlet, and dragged it off him.

The cool wash of air dragged over Leksi and he shivered. It mattered little that the woman was staring unabashedly at his nakedness. What was one more set of eyes on his manhood this night? What bothered him most was the uselessness of his arms and legs as he tried to rise.

“Where are your damned clothes?” the woman demanded.

“How the hell would I know? I didn’t strip myself!” he threw back at her as he managed to swing one leg off the side of the bed. His bare toes touched cold marble and he groaned.

Kynthia made a hissing sound that sounded more serpentine than human as she spun around and began searching the room for his clothing. Spying a pile of something lying in the corner, she went to it and grabbed it. The feel of leather and coarse wool assured her these were men’s clothes. Without looking at them, she flung them toward the bed but something heavy fell to the floor at her feet and she bent down to scoop it up.

“I did nothing to you or those sisters of yours,” Leksi grumbled as he snatched the leather britches from the bed.

Staring down at the object in her hand, Kynthia’s forehead puckered in a confused frown.

“I was on my way to Qabala though only the gods know what I thought I could accomplish there,” the warrior was saying as he clumsily thrust his legs into the britches. “If I had known five rampaging female rapists were out looking for a victim, I would have kept my ass in Tasjorn!”

The crest was of finely worked silver and lay heavily in her hand as she walked to the window to see the thing beneath the bright moonlight.

“At first,” he said, as he pulled the loose tunic over his head and yanked it down with no care to whether the material tore or not. “I thought it was a band of Hasdu riding down on me but no!” The last word was drawn out in mockery. “Not Hasdu but rutting women looking for a man to ravage!”

Kynthia lifted her eyes from the medallion in her hand to stare at the man who was jamming his arms into the sleeves of his uniform tunic. She flinched and stepped back as he came to his feet and swung a wide leather belt around his lean waist. She almost reached for him as he staggered, but he grabbed the headboard to steady himself.

“Raping, ravaging and pillaging, horny women!” he added. He had no idea where his boots were and didn’t care. He was being given a chance to flee this house of madness and even if the soles of his feet were cut to ribbons, he did not care. Without a glance at the woman huddled at the window, he exited the room in a near run. The slap of his bare feet on the stairs seemed overly loud.

“Are you allowing him to leave?” Galatea asked as she came into the room. She yawned and scratched at the silk covering her flat belly.

“Do you know who he is?” Kynthia whispered her eyes as wide as saucers.

“A man I thought would make you a good mate,” Galatea replied. “I guess I was wrong about this one, too.”

“Leksi Helios!” Kynthia hissed. “The Captain of the Venturian Guard!”

“I think Celadina said as much,” her aunt responded.

“The Captain of the Venturian Guard!” Kynthia repeated. “A High Warrior!” She rushed to her aunt and shoved the medallion at her. “Konan Krull’s right-hand man!”

Galatea glanced down at the silver medallion. “Aye. So?”

“What if he brings the guard to our doorstep, Aunt?” Kynthia whispered. “What if he has us arrested?”

Amusement lit the dark brown eyes of Galatea Atredides. “Think you he will want his men to know what we did to him, Kynni?” she asked. “Do you honestly believe he will go about advertising the fact that he was run to ground by five women, abducted and repeatedly raped?”

Kynthia groaned and dropped to the floor, covering her face with her hands as she rocked back and forth. “Leksi Helios,” she whimpered. “He is the third most important man in the Venturian capitol at Lyria!”

“And a man who could have been your mate if you had but tossed the dice in the game, my niece,” Galatea reminded her.

As fearful as she was that the man who had slammed out of that room would bring the might of the Venturian Guard down around their ears, Kynthia was infuriated at her aunt’s single-minded purpose. “
I do not want a mate!
” she yelled at the top of her voice. “
And you know why!
”

“How would you know until you have one?” Celadina asked from the doorway. Behind her, were the rest of Kynthia’s sisters. “Not all men are like the one from Basaraba, Kynni.”

“And you were going to sell him to the Amazeen!” Kynthia grated.