Captured (14 page)

   Aria felt a sharp tug; she was pulled back a few inches. She turned, about to vent her frustration when she realized that Braith was right behind her. She was brought up against his hard chest as he jerked her back another step. His jaw was locked tight, his shoulders squared. He slowly turned his attention to Max. Aria could feel the anger that welled through him, but she did not understand the intensity of it. He wrapped his hand tightly around her leash, drawing her closer to him, forcing her against his body as he wrapped the golden cord around his hand.

   Aria glanced longingly back at Max, but she knew she had made a mistake. Braith was infuriated; his knuckles were white as he clung to her chain. Though no one around them seemed to have noticed her encounter with Max, even the woman that owned Max had been distracted by some jewelry, it was obvious that Braith had not. “Braith…”

   “Your highness,” he growled.

   Aria’s eyes widened, hurt bloomed rapidly through her chest. She wanted to explain, wanted to tell him something, anything that would make that look leave his face. That would make the fury simmering through him abate a little. But she didn’t think he was in the mood to listen to her, and she didn’t know how to even start explaining anything amongst this crowd. She wasn’t even sure what she had to explain to him, or why he was so obviously irate with her. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

   Aria stared helplessly up at him. The woman appeared at his side again, drawing his attention away from Aria. They spoke briefly, but Aria didn’t hear a word they said. Despite her best efforts not to, her gaze slid slowly back to Max. Her heart leapt, tears of hopelessness swam in her eyes. In his gaze she could see the awful despair of their situation, the awful realization that they were trapped. And yet, she could also see a burgeoning rage firing within his gaze as his attention turned slowly back to Braith. True hatred simmered within Max’s bright blue eyes.

   Terror spurted through her, for the first time she was completely afraid of this whole mess. She had tried to convince herself that it would all work out in the end; that somehow they would escape. For the first time she realized that they probably never would. They would be stuck here, they would die here, and there was nothing that either of them could do to stop it.

   A hand wrapped around her arm, she knew instantly that it was
Braith’s
as her skin came alive, and her entire body reacted to his touch. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him as the hated woman slipped past her. Aria wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she and Braith had made plans to meet up later. Aria knew what Braith was, what he needed, and he was not asking her for anything. She should be grateful for that; she was surprised to realize she wasn’t.

   She hated the sense of hurt and betrayal that curled through her.
Hated everything about this awful place, and horrendous day.
She had never wanted the simplicity of her woods and caves more than she did at that moment. She lifted her gaze slowly to Braith, but he was no longer looking at her, in fact he looked as if he wanted to completely forget about her existence as he released her arm and moved swiftly through the parting crowd. Aria had to struggle to keep up with him as he strode purposely forward, nearly dragging her behind him.

   She looked back at Max, struggling against the tears that burned in her eyes. He was watching her intently, his face dark with anger.

***

   Aria was nearly breathless by the time Braith hauled her into his apartment. He radiated anger, but somehow managed to quietly shut the door. “Braith…”

   “Your highness,” he grated.

   Aria recoiled, her eyes widened, she felt as if she had just been slapped. She could understand why she was supposed to call him that in public, but they were alone now and there was no one near to question them. “What?” she managed to sputter out.

   “I told you to call me your highness.”

   Aria gaped after him as he released her leash and strode across the room. She was well aware of the fact that he had not removed the golden chain from her wrist. She stared at the long thin strand, wondering if it would ever come off again. She feared that it might not, and as long as it was upon her she would never be able to break free of this awful place. He’d told her that the chain was linked to him, that he could find it anywhere, and that he was the only one that could ever remove it from her. She wanted to believe that it wasn’t true.

   All she wanted was to get free, she knew now that she had been completely wrong, he was just as cold and cruel as everyone else around here. She folded her free hand over top of the golden chain, wanting to rip the offending thing from her skin. She’d heard rumors, stories that if a slave tried to pull the chain free, it would slice through their skin, tearing into the flesh. Their blood would run freely, staining the gold. It was the reason the leash was known as the blood chain.

   And at the moment, Aria didn’t care.  

   Panic and terror drove her as she dug at it, trying to rip it free. She did not notice her flesh shredding, did not feel the pain, or notice the blood spilling freely down her fingers and wrist. She just wanted free, she just wanted out of this thing, and she wanted her life back. She just wanted to not be someone’s captive, someone’s
thing
to use and order about as they saw fit.

  
Braith’s
hands seized her. A strangled cry escaped her, she tried to rip her hands free of his grasp, but he clung to her. She jerked wildly at her arms, anger and frustration boiling through her. Freedom, all she wanted was freedom. “Let go of me!”

   “Stop it!” he snarled, pulling her toward him. “You’re hurting yourself Arianna.”
   “You’re hurting me!” she cried back, trying to escape his hold. “I’d rather be dead then be trapped like this! Why didn’t you just let me die!? Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with!?”

   He pulled her hand away from the leash, thrusting it down by his side he pinned it there. “Enough!” he barked. “You would prefer to die than be separated from your lover?”

   Her eyes widened, shock froze her as she gaped at him. “How dare you!” she gasped. He released her hand, tossing it away in disgust as he took a step back. “You know nothing of me! Nothing of my life! Nothing of who I am! You sit in this palace, where you have had everything handed to you, and you judge those that refuse to be battered down and broken beneath your rules, your poor treatment, and your death! You have no right to judge me!”

   His dark eyebrows lifted sharply, his jaw clenched and unclenched tightly. “There
is
not much of you to judge.”

   Acting on pure instinct, and with the reckless abandonment her father had often cautioned her about, Aria’s hand snaked up with the agility and speed that had enabled her survival for the past seventeen years. And which would probably end her life now as her hand connected with his
face with an echoing slap that lingered for a long time in the deathly silent air. Aria panted, trying to catch her breath as she gazed at him in wounded shock. The mark of her bloody handprint was perfectly evident against the hard curve of his cheek. 

   His head, which had been knocked slightly aside by her hard blow, came slowly back to her. She could feel the shock that rolled through him, but beneath that she could feel the rolling force of fury building within him. She knew that she should be afraid, knew that she should probably beg for forgiveness, but she would not, and she did not.

   He stepped against her, forcing her into the wall, his face mere inches from hers. Aria found that she could no longer breathe, her hands were shaking. He pressed tighter against her, his hands resting on either side of her head as he bent low, his nose nearly touching hers. “It won’t be you I kill Arianna,” he growled. Her breath gasped into her, her knees buckled slightly as the implication of his words sank in. “I’ll keep you alive, and I’ll make you watch. I can take whatever I want,
whenever
I want it. I have been kind to you so far, I will not be kind any longer.
No
one disobeys me,
no
one goes against me. I will show you what kind of a monster I can truly be.”

   “No,” she managed to whisper.

   “Oh yes, and I am going to enjoy it. I’m actually rather parched at the moment, it’s been awhile since I’ve fed.”
   Horror tore through her, she was rapidly shaking her head as he shoved away from her, moving with swift speed toward the door. She knew where he was going, knew who he was going to retrieve, and she had to stop it. Max couldn’t be punished because she was an idiot. Max couldn’t be punished because of
her
. Not again.

   “Wait! No! Stop! Your highness, please do not do this! Please!” She scurried after him, nearly tripping over the leash still tethered to her. She seized hold of his hand but he shook her easily off. “No!” she gasped. “Don’t do this! Braith, I’m begging you, please!”
   Her feet tangled up within the leash, jerking her painfully down, and causing it to slice deeper into her flesh. “He’s my friend, just my friend! He’s been my friend since we were children! He’s like a brother to me!” she practically wailed, despair threatening to choke her as tears clogged her throat. “I have never begged anyone in my life; please I am begging you, please do not hurt him! He did nothing wrong! I’m sorry, I’ll do whatever you want, whenever you want! Punish me! Punish me!”

   The force of her sobs shook her, making it almost impossible for her to breathe through her broken rib. She couldn’t move; her entire body was wracked with
agony. Blood continued to spill from her wounds, forming a puddle beneath her, soaking into her dress, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore. She had ruined everything; she had destroyed Max’s life. She had not freed him; instead she had given him a death sentence. And from the look on
Braith’s
face it would be a painful one.

   There was a long moment of silence in which she could not look at him, in which she felt as if she were dying, felt as if her misery was going to kill her. And then, to her surprise, she felt the gentlest, lightest touch she had ever felt. His hands were upon her face, cradling her cheeks as he lifted her face to his. His lips were on her, brushing against her cheeks, her forehead, whispering against her ears softly as he tried to soothe her.

   “Don’t,” he said softly. Her sobs shook her, rocking her harder as a soft wail escaped from her. She didn’t know why she was crying now, didn’t know where the full source of this misery was
coming from, but she could no more stem the flow of it as she could stem the flow of a tsunami. “Arianna stop, you’re hurting yourself. Stop Arianna, it’s ok.”

   His hands were in her hair, pulling her toward him, drawing her against him as he clung tighter to her.

CHAPTER 9

   Aria sat silently as Braith slowly bandaged her wrist. His touch was gentle, his hands light upon her wounded and sore skin. Her tears had finally subsided but she felt exhausted, broken, completely defeated. He was being kind to her again, and she didn’t know why. Neither of them had spoken in the past hour. She did not know why he had come back to her, why he had not gone after Max, and she didn’t care. As long as Max stayed alive then she didn’t care what happened, she had promised Braith anything he wanted; she had meant it.

   She didn’t know if that was what had halted him, if that promise was what had brought him back to her, but she wasn’t going to risk him changing his mind. She had overestimated his kindness and understanding of her, but then again she had slapped him in the face. She supposed she was lucky that he hadn’t just killed her outright.   

   He finished with her bandages, his hand rested lightly upon her wrapped wrist and fingers. She slowly lifted her head to meet his shaded eyes. “Why?” she asked softly.

  
“Why what?”

   She swallowed heavily, fearful of sending him into another rage, but she knew she had to ask the question. “Why did you pull me off that stage? Why did you choose me when you have never chosen a blood slave before?”

   He sighed softly; his hands gently squeezed hers. He rose slowly from the floor and sat on the bed beside her. “I see that people have been talking.”

   She shrugged, fiddling anxiously with her bandages. “I think most are curious.”

  
“As are you.”
   “As am I,” she agreed softly.

   He remained silent for a long moment, his attention fixed on the doorway. “I have never had a blood slave because I prefer to take my blood from the willing. Many of my kind enjoy the force and the control, I do not. I never have.”