Unwilling (2 page)

Chapter
Two

A dark demon stalked the mist.  As
soon as the axe had appeared, it was retrieved by a monstrosity who moved too swiftly
for her eyes to track.  The panicked sounds of dying men, muffled by the heavy
vapor, rose like the crescendo of a macabre dance. 

Lindsay froze at the window.  Her
mouth formed a silent scream as she watched the man with the head wound slump
from his horse and disappear into the haze.  She’d never seen a man die
before.  Not violently.  She’d never known what the matter inside a skull
looked like. 

She knew now.

The grimy man waved his sword
about, calling for various compatriots.   “How many are there?” he bellowed.  “What
colors are they wearing?”

Only the crunch of bone and the
screams of the dying answered him. 

The blurred form she’d briefly seen
didn’t wear a tartan or clan colors.  Only black.  Lindsay could feel tears of
fear burning in her eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to blink.  If she did,
perhaps the demons would find her in the darkness behind her eyelids. 

A handful of men rallied to duck
behind her side of the coach.  Their backs to the heavy cart and their
shoulders together, they frantically traded what little information they had.  They
kept their swords at the ready.

“There has to be at least ten of
them.”

“Fucking swift bastards.  They
killed five at once!”

“They’re even killing the horses.”

“How can they see through the
mists?”

Lindsay clung to the windowsill and
frantically scanned the vapor.  She could maybe see three spans in front of the
men’s heads crouched beneath her window.  The sounds of death abated, and an
eerie silence hung as thick as the mist.  No birds sang in the trees.  No
insects hummed in the meadows.  No horses moved or whinnied in the distance. 
It was a though the earth held her breath.  It took a grave burn in her lungs for
Lindsay to realize she did the same. 

A soft gasp escaped her.  It
sounded as loud as a scream in the permeating silence.  Lindsay couldn’t tell
if the sudden rushing in her ears was the nearby river or her own blood.  Were
they gone?  Had they allowed a few survivors?  Maybe they were horse thieves,
and they only killed the ponies they could not keep or take with them.

A knife sailed through the air and
found purchase in the ledge of the window.  Lindsay stared dumbly at it vibrating
in the wood not three inches from her eyes.  A choked sound escaped her, but in
a flash of inspiration she wrapped her fingers around the handle and pulled. 

It wouldn’t budge.  Throwing a
panicked glance into the swirling fog, she tried with both hands to no avail. 

The axe came out of the mist next. 
A stream of blood and gore slung from its honed blade before it claimed yet
another victim.  A MacKay head rolled to the earth, and the axe rested atop of
the head’s former post.  That left five men alive.

Lindsay dove to the floor of the
coach.  If only this wretched contraption had another exit on the opposite side! 
Not even a window to create a crosswind.  She would have made a frantic dash to
the west.  That is, if they didn’t have the entire conveyance surrounded.  

She frantically looked around for
something,
anything
she could use as a weapon.  Faded cushions on the
sparse and uncomfortable benches, her blanket, and cloak were her only
companions. 

Maybe she could use the cushions to
block out the gruesome and horrific sounds from outside.  She grabbed for one,
but something stopped her.  The thundering roar of a raging beast.  The gurgling
cries ripped from throats filled with blood.  Metal slicing the air.  Bones crunching
beneath heavy weapons. 

As soon as those warriors finished
dying, she would be next.

If those villains murdered her today,
they would not find her body cowering beneath ugly cushions.  Not Lindsay Ross. 
They would say that she died bravely.  Fighting like a hellion for her life and
her virtue. 

She hoped it wouldn’t come to
that. 

With grim resolve and trembling
limbs, she forced herself to sit back on the bench.  The moment she settled in,
the latch burst and the door exploded open.  To her utter surprise, the scrawny
soldier lunged in.  His wild eyes bulged from a face drenched in blood.  His
horrific mouth opened in a primal scream of terror. 

“It’s the very reaper come for our
souls!” he wailed, gripping at her skirts with his dirty hands.  “We’re damned
for our crimes!”

“What do you mea—” Lindsay’s very
breath abandoned her when she saw
him
framed in the door. 

When priests read the bible at Mass,
they would tell that Lucifer was once the fairest and most beautiful of all the
angels.  They would say not all his minions looked like satyrs and fiends. 
Some of them, the most dangerous of them, bore the visage of pure temptation. 
They were fallen Seraphim and Incubus.  You would worship them and beg for
pleasure as they dragged you to hell.  You would writhe in ecstasy as they
damned your soul. 

He
was surely such a
creature. 

Though he had the body of a man, it
was like no man she’d ever seen.  A veritable leviathan, he had to turn his
immense shoulders to fit through the door.  He’d been the monstrous black shadow
she’d seen in the fog.  Everything about the man was black.  His armor, his
shorn hair.

His eyes. 

Lindsay cringed from him with a
horrified grasp.  Where his eyes were supposed to be, an abysmal miasma of darkness
swirled about like the fog.  The mist followed him in, and she absolutely
believed he’d been the one to conjure it. 

In one silent and fluid motion, he
raised his broadsword and brought it down upon the scrawny highlander at the
very place where his neck met his shoulder.  The sword didn’t embed in the man.
It cleaved him in two, covering Lindsay in a warm spray of blood.  Then, he
grabbed the pieces of the dead man and hurled them out of the cabin.

She screamed then—dignity be
damned—but regretted it instantly.  She’d drawn the creature’s notice. 

Once, she’d watched a man on his
death march to the gallows.  His feet planted and his eyes had pleaded into
everyone’s they met.  It was as though he couldn’t believe there was no mercy
left in anyone’s heart for him.  No compassion.  That his life meant so little
and everyone would just go about their business after he was gone.  The moment
he accepted this, realized his insignificance in the wide world, had been
painfully apparent.  His shoulders had slumped, his eyes dulled, and he’d
merely trembled as the soldiers dragged him to his fate.

Lindsay had never forgotten that
man.  And in this moment, she understood exactly how he’d felt. 
She’d
remembered him always.  Perhaps because maybe no one else would.  And she
thought of him now, as the beautiful monstrosity before her let a primal roar
and his sword arced toward her trembling body.

Chapter
Three

The slice through the front of her
didn’t cause any pain.  The terrible sound of her kirtle and shift flaying open
reached her ears and she wondered if flesh didn’t sound the same.  Perhaps
shock delayed the pain?  Or, if your organs were spilling out of you, you
didn’t feel them anymore? 

That would be a mercy, at least.

Lindsay couldn’t bring herself to
look down at the damage.  So, she glared at the demon, feeling her chest still
rise and fall in rapid succession.  It
was
getting harder to breathe.  A
band encircled her lungs, threatening to stop their movement altogether.  This
could be the end.

He blinked those soulless, onyx
eyes at her and cocked his head to the side.  Funny, he resembled a bewildered
dog when he did that.  More like a hell hound.  A half-hearted growl emitted
from his throat as he stalked closer.

Oh God.
  She cringed.  At
least it would be over soon.  There was nothing more he could do to her now. 
She would bleed out any minute. 

His sword clattered to the floor. 
His breath came in deep pants, flaring his nostrils with every exhale.  No
threats uttered from him as he bent over her.  A deep rumble built from low in
his chest and gained strength as their eyes locked.

Lindsay stared into the abyss,
quite transfixed.  The strange, ticking rumble reminded her of the purr of a
cat.  Louder, deeper, but somehow just as satisfying.  She closed her eyes.  If
this was going to be the last sound she heard on this earth, she’d pretend it
transmitted from some other source to lull her to the afterlife.

The devil was moving, but she
didn’t open her eyes to see what he was about.  Perhaps he was readying the
killing blow.  Perhaps he was leaving her to die in peace.  Either way, it
mattered not.  Until a warm, slightly roughened cheek pressed against hers and
he took in an endless breath against her hair, filling his lungs to the brink.

Was he…
smelling
her?

He exhaled a soft groan and drew
back.   His savage face appeared pleased as his gaze roamed every inch of her
face, and then dipped lower.  The rumbling grew louder. 

Lindsay looked down to find her
flesh very much intact, and very
bare. 
Her bodice and undergarments lay
flayed open all the way to her waist.  Her breasts quivered with each of her
shivers and drew his hungry gaze.

Blood still stained her dress, but
hadn’t seeped to the clean skin beneath.  Her flesh seemed to glow translucent
in the dimness of the coach.  She tried to grasp the sides of her bodice and
pull it together, but he was on her before she could move.

She cried out in alarm as his hands
pinned her wrists to the bench beside her.  His hips forced themselves between
her knees and she was so grateful he hadn’t sliced through her skirts. 

“Please…” she whispered as he
brought his body close to hers, but didn’t touch his stained armor to her
exposed skin.  “Don’t kill me.”

As the words left her mouth, she
realized there were things worse than death.

He shook his head slowly, an amused
smile playing at the corners of his full mouth as he examined her like a rare
specimen.  Lindsay didn’t understand his bizarre behavior, but couldn’t bring
herself to move.  She had the distinct impression that if she ran, it would be
like inciting a predator to the chase.  He’d not harmed her.  Yet.  But perhaps
he was more like a cat than the intense purr signified.  Maybe he liked to play
with his prey first before butchering it.

She swallowed hysterics that
threatened to bubble into her throat.

He gave her hands a gentle press,
as if to tell her to leave them where they were, then released them.  Lindsay
didn’t dare defy him.  He reached long, roughened fingers to her face, wiping
at a trail of frightened tears she hadn’t been aware she’d shed. 

His hand snaked around to plunge
into her loose hair.  She could feel how large it was as it cupped her head,
and precisely how strong.  He could crush her skull with one flex.  He didn’t,
though.  He just urged her, rather tenderly, toward him. 

Lindsay’s blood quickened through
her veins.  She had no choice but to let him pull her closer.  Closer to those
terrifying eyes.  Closer to that blindingly exquisite face.  Closer to his
sinfully sensuous mouth. 

So he
was
some sort of incubus. 
Even in these horrifying circumstances, with the blood of the freshly fallen at
their feet, she couldn’t prevent the thrill that shot through her. 

If this were a reaper or a demon,
surely
she
couldn’t be the focus of his ultimate attentions.  Lindsay gave
a weak resistance in his unyielding grip as she frantically tried to think of
anything she’d ever done that would damn her soul.  She’d never been
particularly obedient or subservient, but she’d only been quarrelsome if she
was certain to be right and her opponent wrong. 

Which was most of the time. 

A few white lies might come back to
haunt her, though she was pretty sure she’d confessed them at some point to
father Vincent.  Hadn’t she?  Vanity could be a marked weakness.  Admittedly,
she took pride in her long, thick black hair and kept her skin soft and
fragrant.  So would that be considered pride?  Or vanity?  Which one was the least
egregious sin?  She didn’t always
mean
it when she said her prayers, but
she dutifully said them, all the same. 

Prayer. 

That was it.  Demons could be
repelled by invoking the holy spirit through prayer.  Couldn’t they?

“Hail Mary, full of grace.  The
lord is with thee…”

The demon’s sinister mouth curled
into a snarl of distaste.  He didn’t burst into flames as she had hoped, but he
appeared somewhat uncomfortable.  Oh, praise be!  It was working.

“Um…”  How did the rest of it go? 
Something about being blessed and Jesus and the fruit of her womb.  Oh drat. 
At least she remembered the important part.  The one she would need any moment
now that she’d angered him.  Her voice wavered.  “Pray for us sinners now and
at the hour of our death.  Ame—”

He cut off her benediction with his
lips.

Chapter
Four

Many times the Ladies at court
gossiped about soft kisses or a stolen passionate embrace.  This was no soft
kiss.  And the dark sentinel looming above her stole nothing.  He demanded.  He
plundered.  He claimed. 

Shocked and helpless, Lindsay
didn’t dare move.  She hadn’t a weapon and the idea of fighting him off
terrified her.  The beast was obviously being careful not to sully her with his
blood-stained armor.  This –
thing
might have single-handedly
slaughtered a vanguard of more than twenty men.  She shuttered to think of the sordid
violence he could commit if she inflamed him by struggling. 

Besides, this could be no ordinary
kiss.  Something happened within the demanding contact of his hot, branding
mouth.  The swirling mist surged.  The highland beasts quieted and took notice
of a new variable in the world about them.  Perhaps an alteration in the cosmos
while something as intangible and exigent as fate shifted in a single moment.

 His strong, warm tongue breached
her mouth and explored the untouched recesses.  Lindsay thought the creature
should have tasted like death or brimstone.  Maybe blood or damnation. 

He
did
taste like sin. 

Crippling pleasure paralyzed and
shamed her.  The expected anxious flutters or hesitant thrills didn’t accompany
this kiss.  It went beyond that, instantly, to a curious burning sensation deep
in her belly, radiating outward on a feverish pulse and culminating in a moist
rush to her loins.  Fear made the sensations sweeter and more terrifying. 

This was wrong. 

It was sinful.  But she couldn’t
stop him if she tried.  Her best chance at survival was submission.

His deep groan reverberated through
her and then his hands were on her.  Strong, demanding fingers gripped her
shoulders, kneading them in rhythm with his mouth before trailing to her
breasts.  Lingering over their softness, his hands were gentle as they stroked
and cupped the soft mounds.  The rough pads of his thumbs abraded the sensitive
flesh of her nipples and a stunned gasp of delight escaped her.  The demon
swallowed it and answered back with a fervent moan as his fingers continued to
drift lower. 

Here in the mist, Lindsay could
forget where they were and what lay beyond the present.  The future became a
nebulous abstract, perhaps not even to be manifested.  Only the next moment
mattered, for it brought with it a subsequent untried sensation. 

The coach disappeared in the
consuming fog and with it, all sense of time and reality.  Perhaps, Lindsay
thought, she
was
already dead.  Maybe he truly did spill her blood and
decided to follow her into the afterlife.  Her very own reaper, easing the
final journey by initiating her to passions of the flesh.  Wasn’t heaven
supposed to be like this?  Clouds.  Beauty. Ecstasy.

Stroking her firm, trembling belly,
he dipped below the rent seam of her dress.  Her skin felt clammy beneath his
warm, sure fingers.  Moist from the frosty kiss of the vapor.  When he trailed against
the crisp hairs below her waist, Lindsay clutched at the wide shoulders as
though to hold him in place.  Of course, she realized the absurdity of the
notion, but she would die if he stopped kissing her now.  She couldn’t look
into those bleak, fathomless eyes.  If she did, she’d have to admit that she
took pleasure from the damned. 

That her soul might be as black as his.

Not that he gave any indication
that he was finished.  He drank from her as a parched man would from an
enchanted well.   It was as though he’d never drink again, and planned to gorge
himself until he could no longer. 

When his fingers dipped into her
cleft, he found a river of desire.  Breath escaped them both as he delved into
the slickness and tested it against the engorged flesh aching to be touched.

Lindsay jerked against the
movement.  She hadn’t even been aware her body could produce such a sensation. 
Perhaps it couldn’t.  Maybe this searing, aching pleasure was a manifestation
of this man’s dark power.  Either way, it captivated her absolutely. 

He barely had to move his hand, but
only to hint at a pulsing circle, his knuckle pressed beneath the tight bud as
his finger mimicked the movement of his lips.  Soon, her hips moved with him of
their own volition, riding the waves of pleasure like a horse racing out of
control.  She knew it carried her to a destination.  That this climbing,
overwhelming  pressure couldn’t continue to build.  If she could just—

She crested in a wet rush of pure
white fire.  Her rhythmic cries followed the pulses of bliss centered in her
core and were smothered by his relentless mouth.  Her hips bucked beneath him
but he held fast, driving her ever higher until she collapsed.

The black-clad beast drew back
then, and the expression on his face terrified her.

Absolute possession. 

He ripped at the leather buckles of
his armor, rending them with his bare hands, and tossed the chest-piece aside. 
A black tunic with a tear at the shoulder was all that stood between him and
her bare breasts.

“Wait.”  Lindsay started to drift
back into herself.  The last pulsing vestiges of pleasure still thrummed
through her blood.  Her limbs felt heavy and soft, her thoughts muddled and
slow to take form.  What just happened?  Had her very soul shattered and then
been recaptured?  She needed a moment to recover.

With a dark and anticipatory smile,
he dropped his head to capture her lips in another searing kiss.  This one left
her feeling drugged and weak-limbed.  Lindsay put her hand on his chest and
pushed against him.  This shouldn’t be happening, should it?  Why hadn’t he
spoken a word to her? 

“I don’t think—”

His tongue took advantage of her
parted lips and she lost herself for a few more sensual moments before turning
her face to evade him.

“I can’t— Ohhhhhh.” 

He nibbled her ear.  Licked at the
sensitive flesh of her neck.  Rendered her witless with his sinful, relentless
mouth. 

The cold air on her bare thighs
dumped her harshly back into reality.  He’d pushed her skirts above her knees
and had moved deeper between them.  Lindsay grabbed desperately at her bodice
and found it slick with a dead man’s blood. 

She was going to be sick.  What had
they just done? 

With the blood of the freshly defeated
at her feet and the corpses of innocent men strewn about outside her carriage? 
What sort of woman was she to act in such a disgraceful manner?  Surely, he’d
enthralled her, somehow.  Bedeviled her into allowing him the most shameful of
liberties.  She had to stop this.  Stop
him
.

“No!” she cried. 

His head snapped up from her neck. 
Those ebony eyes snaring hers from a face so blindingly compelling she had to
wrench her gaze away.  She was in danger of being spellbound again. 

“P-please… I—” What should she
say?  Would he kill her now?

His head dipped toward her once
more, lips angling for her breast as he pushed her skirts higher.

“Stop,” she commanded, twisting
away from him and attempting to disentangle her limbs from around his strong
trunk.  At least she succeeded in grasping her bodice together.  “I won’t let
you take me.  Do you understand me, Demon?  Y-you cannot.  I’ll die first.”

His features darkened from
bewilderment to anger in a moment.  With a vicious snarl, he reached out and
grasped her by the waist, hauling her against him. 

Even knowing what he’d done, exactly
how many people he’d killed, Lindsay had underestimated his sheer strength.  Apparently,
until this moment, he’d been treating her with utter gentility and painstaking
restraint. 

Not any longer.

Dragging her out of the coach, he
held her body in an iron grasp even as she wailed and kicked and struggled with
all her might.  Lindsay was glad she couldn’t see the carnage through the fog. 
But the metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air and the demon seemed to
be picking his steps very carefully.

As he carried her a few spans, the
mist began to dissipate and after an indeterminate time of her kicking at him
and shouting obscenities, a brilliant sunset shone over the river Tay.

“Put me down!” Lindsay ordered.  “I
demand to be released.”

To her utter surprise, the demon
complied, dumping her fully into the river and following in after her.