The Taming

A Wounded Bird in Hiding

"I did keep you leashed. But the rest is ludicrous accusations."

"Why?" She breathed through flaring nostrils.

"Because I...can't..." He trailed off. "I did not use you!"

Why would you ever think that?

"Didn't you?" Her eyes narrowed to pinpoints on him.

Absolutely not!

"Never." He shook his head adamantly. Hands still supplicating before him. "I don't think I can have more, as I see fit."

It's been months!

"However, if you allowed me, I'd show you what I could offer when I'm not starved to feel you..." His gaze flicked to her flat stomach and lower meaningfully.

"Such as?" She spat. Eyes widening as she gave a half-shake of her head. Realizing she'd walked into a trap. Coaxed by his smooth tone.

His gaze slid to where they were nearly joined. He gnawed his bottom lip suggestively.

"I could-" He quirked a blonde brow as he let it trail off.

"No!" She gestured frantically. "I don't want to know!" She shoved him back and ran from the room.

His hands fell. Knowing he'd lost.

"You've nothing to fear." He watched her go.

Less than an hour later he saw her standing at the window slit of her chamber. Staring down into the bailey as she watched him mounting Sivikon. He gave her a long look shaking his head purposefully. Willing her to understand that the other woman was not in his castle for any reason other than to cleanse her evil.

His cloak billowed around the white stallion as he crossed the meadow into the treeline. Looking back, he saw her turn from the window. Seeing the loneliness written in her slow movements. The walls of WaterRose released a sorrowful moan echoing through the corridors and out to him across the meadow.

She'd taken to watching him leave lately. He'd heard her thoughts, wondering if he'd taken another woman.

It was laughable truly. I've no time. And all my thoughts of ravishment are intertwined with her.

She presumed only one reason a man left at odd hours and hid where he went.

She's wrong.

But I fear if she knows how long I'll be gone each time she'll formulate a plan to leave me...

Night after night she watches me. Sneaking into my room to witness me sleep. I wonder, is it just a desire to kill me in my sleep?

Or is there some part of her that wonders about me like I wonder about her? What I think when I sleep? What I dream?

She has such an odd mix of fear, pain and hate on her face when I wake, that I have to wonder if it's her fear that makes her creep into my chamber at night. To always know where I am?

Or dare I hope there's some hint of longing? Curiosity? Perhaps Lucien is right, and I've grown too soft in my feeling for her.

From the Journal of Sebastian Bodane.

***

Catching the sound of boots heading downstairs, Elsabet emerged in the hall, glimpsing the top of a blonde head disappearing across the foyer and out the front-door.

She was shocked when confronted by a woman's voice. "He wouldn't allow you to be locked in."

Elsabet's head swung to find the hazy outline standing demurely in the hall. "Calisto?"

"If you recall, you've never been locked up when he's here. Not since that first Christmas-his gift to you."

"It appears his interest was fleeting." Bitterness tinged Elsabet's tone.

"Why?" Calisto laughed. "Because he speaks to another woman?" Calisto shook her head as though Elsabet would never learn. "Didn't you see the lingering look he sent that window," Calisto nodded toward Elsabet's chamber. "When he thought he might get a glimpse of you?"

Elsabet worried her lip.

"Your jealousy is misplaced."

"I'm not jealous." Elsabet grumbled.

"You are." Calisto sighed. Amusement still flavoring her voice.

Paining Elsabet to hear.

"It's good. There's no shame in having feelings for him. He's a good man."

"One that returns with claw marks from other women. Smelling of whore's perfume. Sodden with drink."

"You assume much, Friend." Calisto murmured chidingly. "You don't know where he goes or what he does."

"You're right in that!" Elsabet snapped.

"You wish to go with him in his travels?" Calisto probed.

Elsabet flushed darkly.

"Ask him." Calisto urged.

"Never." Elsabet shook her head. "He'd say no."

"And what if he said yes?"

Elsabet's body wound with tension as a barrage of thoughts tormented her.

"It'd be mighty hard then..." Calisto murmured. "Holding onto this hatred for him, for keeping you captive..."

Elsabet swallowed a huge lump which felt like it blocked her airway.

***

Bast visited Elsabet as Quandary that night. After I missed her all afternoon. He nestled with her until hearing her breaths deepen with slumber.

Dorena was lovely company today. But she isn't Elsabet. Curled behind her as the panther he reached a paw toward her hair. Drawn to touch her. Black hairs dropped to the cream-colored coverlet as his fur melted into long, slim fingers as he ached to touch her skin, her hair. Anything.

But as she shifted her shoulder, his hand instantly turned back into a furred paw.

Knowing he couldn't sleep, he retreated downstairs to lurk in his library. But her scent lingered on him from her blankets. Making his body tight.

He spent the early morning hours pacing restlessly. Book balanced in his palm as he tried to dismiss thoughts of the scantily clad woman sleeping so soundly upstairs. Soft hair framing her face like satin.

Screw it! He tossed down the book. Shoving a hand through his hair and rummaging through his jar of exotic nuts. Plucking through to find his favorites.

But nothing diverted from images of her face, haunting him. Her impassively looking at him over a meal, a brief flare of excitement when she'd run downstairs to greet him, all the times she'd flashed rare smiles or when flickers of torment crossed her eyes.

Her every emotion is beautiful. All he wanted was to see more. To know more...

"You're restless." Dorena said softly as she wandered to the doorway. Hesitating at the threshold as she sensed this was the lone room, she wasn't entirely welcome in.

Elsabet and I's room. The only neutral ground. The one place we refuse to outright fight. Where we can seek the other's company without having to admit what we're doing.