Set to Flame (Flame Series) (9 page)

She felt the hands lifting her, beating at the flames as blinding white pain exploded in her head.

~   ~   ~

Marcus did not stray far from the door.  He could hear the raised voices seeming to carry on and on.  He wondered if Garrick would actually take Alena against her will.  The thought that Alena would eventually quiet and hold up her end of the arrangement left Marcus cold.  He wondered again why this woman effected him like no other.  Perhaps it was that she had been a part of a sheik’s harem, a part of an exotic legend that attracted him.  Perhaps, it was her extraordinary beauty.  Yet, she was Garrick’s woman now, that should be enough to make him want to turn his back on her, but he could not. 
Leave them
, his mind commanded him, yet his feet would not obey him and walk away from the doorway.

A blood curdling scream came from the chamber and every thought fled from Marcus’s mind.  All
except the turmoil that began in the chamber where the scream escaped.  Defend her or leave her to Garrick?  Marcus knew pain, had witnessed enough of it not to be aware that was what caused Alena’s cry.  He stood staring at the tapestry like some idiot who did not have the sense to make a decision.  Wasn’t it too late to stop it now?  The damage had already been done, the pain inflicted for no more noises were coming from inside.  He began to turn away when the heavy curtain was flung aside, and Garrick stepped out with a naked, limp Alena in his arms.

Marcus was dumbfounded unsure why the man would end his pleasure at that point.  He looked from the still
Alena to Garrick’s face and nearly gasped.  He was so unused to seeing anything on the man’s face, the anguish that was there was so striking on his dark features, Marcus found himself truly frightened for not even in battle or the tortures of a dungeon could create such a reaction from the man.  Then he was thrusting Alena into his arms.

“She is your woman now,” Garrick grated out before quickly turning on his heel and disappearing back inside the chamber.

Marcus fumbled with Alena’s weight, turning her in order to cradle her more securely in his arms.  Looking down at her, he nearly lost his hold when he noticed the burns, his heart dropped to his feet.  The flames had traveled up her right arm and turned it into a charred mess.  Worse than the arm was her beautiful face.  The right side was now a horrendous pulp of roasted skin, her eyes were closed so he could not determine the extent of the injury there.  Her beautiful raven hair was burned from the scalp along the front and especially the injured side of her head as well as the eyebrows and lashes. 

Turning he fled swiftly down the hall toward
Cyrille’s chamber, and the help he knew was centered there.  As he burst into the chamber, it was to see the many servants tending the wounded man.  Going straight for the bed, he lay her down beside Cyrille. 

“Get Lenora!” he snapped as he brushed what was left of her hair from her face.  It was a tender effort but was almost his undoing when it fell off in his hand.  “And get whatever you’ve been giving him for his pain,” he said pointing to the man who was stirring beside the naked woman.

His voice began to bring Alena from her stupor for she began thrashing about with her uninjured arm for a moment before her eyes opened.  The one was just as clear a green as it had been.  The other was a red mass, and he did not know if it could be saved.  He feared it would have to be cut out in order to save her from the infection.  He had to clear his thoughts because the possibilities were endless inside his racing mind.  Feeling the bed move beside her, she turned to Cyrille and began to scream.  Long drawn out screams escaped her as she tried to pull herself away from the hideously scarred man beside her. 

Looking at
Cyrille, Marcus saw what she saw, her future, and his heart went out to her.  She turned back to him, the screams died and she reached for him, taking his hand in her uninjured one, she pulled him down toward her with strength he did not know she was capable of even when she was well.

“Kill me,” her voice rasped out.  “Kill me now.”

“No,” he stated firmly as he looked down at her. 

“Kill me, you bastard,” she said her voice coming a little stronger.  Perhaps that was a good sign.  The words ended in a coughing fit that left her gasping for breath and staring up at him with panic filling her eye.

Then Lenora was there and pushed him away.  He felt Alena’s hand slip from his grasp, and he realized he had been clinging to her as she had been clinging to him.  He was left to pace as the women came in to surround her and blocked his view.  Gasps of pain came from the bed as they tended her and finally a drink they gave her to sleep took its effect and quiet reigned.  It was then he allowed his eyes to wander to Cyrille, the man who shared the bed with Alena.  He was scarred to the point if he had not known it was Cyrille who occupied this chamber he would not have recognized him.  The burned flesh was peeling off and leaving in its wake the burn scars that intertwined with the deep scars of the blade and the empty eye socket.  Yet still, he knew it was Cyrille, Damien’s brother.  A kind man, a fun man to be around, even a gentle man despite the harshness sometimes he had to carry out for his brother and their king.  Marcus had watched the man help the innocent in critical situations, often that he helped create, but still he felt compelled to be chivalrous, to be kind.  The man’s one good eye fell on him and instinct told him this was not the same man he had known.  He felt he looked upon the face of a monster and it was not due to the scars on the outside.  Apparently, Cyrille’s strength ended at those few moments of consciousness when his eye slowly drifted closed, and he slept again.

Would that be how
Alena would be?  Would she be embittered by her scars?  What kind of life would she lead?  Garrick had already given up on her so she would not be gaining the security she planned with her sacrifice.  Garrick had given Alena to him.  Suddenly, anger at Garrick coursed through him, and with a growl, he stomped from the room.  By the time he reached Garrick’s chamber he was about to explode with his fury eager for an outlet but found an empty room, not even his sword and armor in their usual location. 

He turned and hurried through the corridors to the back of the keep and the stables there.  As he suspected he found Garrick,
Malik ready for travel. 

“Get out of my way,” Garrick grumbled as Marcus filled the doorway.

“Where are you going?”

“I have thought perhaps I made a mistake letting my army go with Damien.”  He pulled
Malik to a halt and made some final adjustments to his saddle and gear.

“Then I will go with you,” Marcus said turning toward the stable. 

“Not this time Marcus.”

The sound of the man’s voice stopped Marcus in his tracks and had him turning to meet his gaze.  The statement was not a command, but a statement it seemed Garrick had had to become resigned to.  He watched the war lord vault onto the back of his horse that immediately pranced beneath him, ready to get away from the walls.  Animal and man were so much alike it was incredible.

“What happened in there?” Marcus asked as Garrick spun the animal.

Garrick stared down at Marcus for a moment, studying him.  Then the dark man’s brows snapped together and thunder clouds assembled on his face.  “She would not submit to me.  She broke our agreement.”

“So you burned her?”

Garrick seemed to ponder the question as he steadied the stallion beneath him.  “She’s your woman now, if you still want her,” then Garrick turned and thundered away leaving Marcus standing speechless. 

Marcus watched his friend disappear around the corner of the keep.  They had been through a lifetime together and as Marcus watched him ride away he was filled with hope that soon that journey would end.  The darkness was consuming Garrick.  They had to get away from it before they were lost to it forever.  Perhaps, it was already too late for Garrick.

With a heavy heart, he turned to go back inside.  He felt as if he knew Garrick’s need to escape from the constricting walls and the people who looked to him for answers, for suddenly he found himself without any.  Up the steps to
Cyrille’s room where he found the man sleeping alone.  Back out to the corridor he saw Lenora coming out from the chamber next door.

“She rests,” the woman said in a hushed voiced so she would not disturb the patient.  Then with malice she said, “Garrick is a monster.  That man is evil and this proves it.”

The woman brushed passed him, and he turned to the room she had just left.  Stepping behind the tapestry his eyes were immediately drawn to the bed Alena lay upon.  She looked so frail lying on the large mattress.  The blanket was pulled over top her nakedness, for which Marcus was grateful for somehow that would make her all the more vulnerable as he stared at her.  Her arm lay across her stomach, a cloth beneath it but otherwise the burn lay open save for the thick salve that covered it.  Her face was the same, but even so he could see the scars that would one day remain.  He wondered at the emotions warring within him.  She would no longer be a beauty though one side of her face remained unharmed it would only be a reminder of what once was for her.  He did not feel himself pushed away by such a flaw but drawn in, and all he wanted to do was hold her.  Promise her everything would be all right.  Would it?  What did he have to offer her?  He had given up everything he had once had.  Now his life was spent at Garrick’s whim.  If the man wanted to linger at one of his holdings he lingered and if he wanted to wage war, he fought.  That was no life for a woman.  Especially a woman such as this.  She deserved a life of softness, of leisure.  She should have a life filled with joy, not worry about where her next meal would come from for that was the only life he could offer her.  But who would provide her such a life now?  Who would possibly look beneath the scars to the beautiful woman who still existed?  Or would she? 

She would survive, Marcus was sure of this for he would make it so.  He would treat her no differently, and he would make her his woman just to prove she was still the woman that had drawn him in the first time she had silently entered their filthy cell.  His angel of mercy, no scars could take that away.  He moved to the bed and nudged the
servant who sat with her and he motioned her to the door.  The servant was reluctant to leave but was wise choosing to do so anyway. 

Marcus sank onto the edge of the bed, his bulk making the mattress dip but
Alena did not stir.  His days became a steady stream of servants coming and going with Lenora.  Inside his mind, the chamber grew smaller by the day, but he could not bring himself to leave Alena’s side.  She was kept drugged so she would not awaken and damage the skin that would try to heal.  No infection took hold for which Marcus said a heartfelt prayer because this meant she would live.  Four days after the event took place Marcus could take no more and left the room.  He went to the stable, saddled the fastest looking horse there and rode rapidly away from the darkness that had loomed about his shoulders all those days. 

~  
~   ~

Alena awoke with a start.  She expected pain, a lot of pain for she remembered what had occurred.  Somehow she was disappointed she felt little, for that meant she was on the mend which meant Marcus had not done what she begged him to do. 
Damn him
, she thought as she tried to open her eyes.  One opened easily enough, but the other seemed to not.  Finally, she gave up the struggle and slept more. 

She drifted in and out of sleep, but each time she awoke Marcus was there.  She could not calculate the amount of time that passed between her awake and unconscious moments, but he did not leave her side.  Sometimes he held her hand, sometimes he sat talking to her, often she did not know what he spoke of for he just seemed to talk, and sometimes he was stretched out on the bed beside her asleep.  She wondered if Garrick had ordered him to or if he stayed of his own volition. 

The noise awoke her.  It was a sound that terrified her.  She remembered a time awaking to that sound and not knowing what it was.  But now she knew, she was unsure how, but she knew it was the cane Sheik Ghalib carried with him.  A cane he would lay across anyone’s back or against their head of they did not obey him.  It tapped the floor next to the couch she lay upon.  She felt small, she was a child again.  She sat up and looked into his dark eyes and the lust on his face.  She screamed and intended to scramble from the soft cushions she lay upon but found she was bound, her hands above her head, her legs bent and spread yet restrained.

She remembered being here before.  This place, this time, the terror, the fight with the man before her had all happened before, even his cane against her head to still her and awaking.  He sneered then released himself and came toward her.  She screamed again and thrashed, but his hands were on her thighs, pressing them farther apart as he moved closer between them.  His face was an open book of greed and satisfaction that he was finally getting his prize.  She felt him trying to gain access and she closed her eyes and screamed again.  When she opened them, it was
Garrick, his hands were rough as they held her wide for him.  His face its usual mask of coldness and she felt the same terror welling up inside her.  She wanted to get away, but she couldn’t escape, she was still bound. 

She squeezed her eyes closed, but they snapped open again when she felt a different hand on her hip.  A gentle hand and she looked up into the eyes of Marcus.  His face was handsome as he smiled at her.  A smile to match the gentleness of his hand and she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes.  Pain suddenly shot up her arm, to her face as if thousands of bees were stinging her.  Her eyes popped open to find Marcus lying beside her.  His face was relaxed in sleep, his hand rested on her hip.  She moved quickly, rolling off her burned side, gently pulling her burned arm from beneath the covers it had become entangled in.  When she settled onto her back, she felt Marcus's arm fall around her again.