Lycan Alpha Claim 3 (112 page)

CHAPTER 22

Bracus looked down at the Princess’s still form and couldn't believe she was finally in his arms. He checked his expression to escape notice. She lay so light in his embrace. He hugged her tighter to him, and her head rolled against his chest.

He looked over at the large male with yellow hair who still lived. Rage shimmering within Bracus. Killing the man now would be best.

He looked at Philip, who nodded and prepared to land the killing blow, but Stephen interrupted, “Do not.” Philip's hand hesitated. “He looks to be someone of importance.”

They took in his regal attire, heavy gold rings, and thin band atop his head.

Bracus made a noise in the back of his throat. What a loathsome man. “He does not deserve to live.”

“I agree. But, if we wish for our negotiations to move forward, killing a person of importance may not assist our cause,” Stephen said.

He was right, but there was something primitive in Bracus that wished to end the life of he who had used violence against the Princess.

He wavered.

Finally, he walked over to the man and ground his heel into his groin with crushing force. A low moan escaped Prince Frederic.

Bracus smiled. That had felt good.

The Band laughed. It would be some time before he tried to take a female by force again.

The Band silently made their way out of the tear in the sphere wall.

Joseph turned around once they were out. “Look upon it.” He pointed to the slit.

They watched it begin to repair itself. The Evil Ones had thought of a contingency for a sphere breach. They wished  for no intermingling of the two Peoples.
Well
, Bracus thought,
they would have a surprise.

The Band closed in around him and kept their senses alert

*

They reached the forest border, and relief washed over Bracus.

They mounted their horses, and with the evening meal almost upon them, they found a mossy area by the stream and lay the Princess down upon it. She barely stirred. Bracus did not like the deep shadows beneath her eyes and the pallor of her wounded face. He brought out his knapsack and rifled through it until he came upon a blanket, the one he had chosen especially for its tightly woven properties. He spread it over her. As it was made for him, he was able to take the excessive length and use part of it to bundle up as a makeshift pillow.

The Band drew together and looked down at her.

Stephen spoke first. “She looks weak.”

“She is, dolt.” Philip frowned, massive hands pegged on his hips.

“It would be interesting to find out what her intentions were this day. Where were they going? Were they traveling with that guard?” Joseph reasoned out loud.

Bracus shook his head. “I do not think so. Did you notice the one who was committing violence against her? His clothing was different. They are not from her home sphere.”

Bracus watched the slight rise and fall of her chest, having never laid eyes on a woman this small. She was very close in stature to young Evelyn who tended the well. But how brave she had been! With huge, strange males all around, she had pleaded for the life of her friend. He looked more closely at her. She wore the strange clothes again, and a bejeweled crown sat upon her head. He shook his head.

“So frail.” Matthew bent down close to her still form. He picked up her hand, the full size of it taking up only his palm.

“Don't touch her.” Bracus spoke to Matthew in a low, clear voice.

Matthew looked at him, carefully putting Clara's hand down where it had been, his eyebrows rising as he straightened to his full height.

“Why, Captain?”

Bracus realized his mistake too late. He did not want any male touching her. “I do not wish her to awaken and find your ugly mug above her.”

The Band laughed at the joke, and the tension drained like water through a sieve.

Philip clapped Matthew on the back. “Come, let us find food. It has been a long day, and I, for one, wish to end it with a full belly and the stars above me.”

Bracus chose Joseph to watch over Clara, instructing him to give the alert if she awoke. He nodded solemnly. Joesph understood better than the others because he wished for Anna to love him. He would be more careful with this new female.

Bracus walked away. But the need to stay by the Princess's side was an unbearable pull that no amount of shaking would loosen.

CHAPTER 23

Clara opened her eyes slowly. She was cold. She did not know at first where she lay. A damp, lightweight blanket covered her from foot to chin, and she discovered one lay under her head as well. She cautiously turned her head to the left. The huge
savage
lay beside her. At her right was the other
savage,
the one who made her heart race with trepidation.

Her mind flooded with memories of the last moments before she fainted: Charles struck down, the guards killed, Prince Frederic on the floor, unconscious. That they had not killed her was a mystery. They probably wanted details about her kingdom. They would not get them.

It was the least she could do.

Clara removed her crown, laying it behind her head, symbolic of her dislike of being a Princess. It could stay where it lay. She sat up quietly and looked at the sky. The stars glittered above her like diamonds in black velvet. Taking a deep breath, she was assaulted by the dryness of the air, cool on her lungs. She stifled an urge to cough. The air was so strange Outside. The Record Keeper had been mistaken.

She breathed, and she lived.

Her people did not need to be confined to the sphere.

Clara looked at the
savage
who lay beside her, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Her eyes traveled to his gills, and they fascinated her. They flowed apart and together with synchronicity.

She shook her misgivings away. She need not dally. Now was the time for escape. She spied her knapsack at the base of her bed and quietly crawled to the end of the bedding, careful not to rustle or make noise. She looped the knapsack over one shoulder as she stood, then round the other. She backed away.

As she was turning, she noted that there were five males, all the biggest she had ever seen in her life. She knew that they were humanoid, but not entirely. With the gills and the hugely muscled physique, she was not absolutely certain what they were.

She moved away slowly, gaining distance, placing her feet in areas where the brush was least and she could traverse it more silently. She looked above her, noting the full moon, so bright outside the sphere it hurt her eyes. The air a bitter testimony to her freedom.

Clara traveled, wishing all the while that she could stop and appreciate finally having escaped to the Outside.
As she walked, she made her way to the forest border. She saw the sphere beneath her and thought of Charles. What would be his fate? It was more her fault than she liked to admit.

Tears burned unshed while her face throbbed.
Could she do nothing for anyone?
She was by herself, having escaped Prince Frederic and the Queen's abuse. But what of food, shelter, and clothing? She sighed, moving forward.

Feeling thirsty, she disentangled her knapsack. Lowering it, she squatted and searched for the water bottle she remembered Charles had filled before the guards and Frederic had come upon them. She shuddered, remembering. He would have raped her had it not been for the
savages'
timely interruption. A momentary pang of guilt seized her, but she would not let it overwhelm her. She needed to escape them too. Charles's sacrifice would not be for nothing.

She gulped the cool water down, relishing its sweetness, placing her palm on the rough bark of the tree, feeling its texture for the first time. So many new tactile experiences.

Clara became aware of a noise behind her and immediately thought of an animal or some such. The Record Keeper told tales of large animals in the wilderness of the Outside.

Clara whirled around, her skirt swirling around her legs. Before her stood the
savage
. Clara's heart stopped in her throat. A look of rage stood on his face. Clara did not hesitate. She turned and ran.

She heard his pursuit and realized fleeing might be futile, but she would not just stand there like prey to be taken.

Branches grabbed and tore at her clothing as she ran. Her shoes were a hindrance. The corset bound her lungs.

Crashing behind her, the
savage
came.

When she felt she could run no more and the breath burned in her throat, his strong arms clasped her from behind, and he lifted her off her feet. She kicked and flailed, trying futilely for release, but his arms were bands of brass, unyielding and hard.

“Be still! I mean you no harm!” He spoke urgently by her ear.

Clara stilled. It was no use. She could not escape the Prince and his guard. She could not escape the
savages.
Her fate was sealed. She was not her own mistress but
the mistress of others.

****

Bracus looked down at the Princess as she struggled. Good Lord, was she a fighter! For such a small female, how she thrashed about. Bracus worked to subdue her without hurting her. It was harder than it seemed. Finally, he wrapped his arms over the top of hers from behind and folded her against his chest. She slowed her struggles when he told her to, but he did not trust that she would cooperate. He cautiously released her, and she turned on him, furious. Those beautiful eyes flashed, one still bruised and swollen, a new mark layered on the old.

Clara turned on the
savage
, angry with him for capturing her, angry at the circumstance, angry about everything.

“Let me go,” she hissed, her bravado slipping.

“I cannot,” he answered, spreading his arms wide.

Somehow, this was not how Bracus had envisioned their first meeting.

“I have escaped the sphere and wish to be free. I do not want to be forced anymore.” She looked around her and became aware that the remaining
savages
had subtly appeared in the holes between the trees. Her anxiety grew. She felt claustrophobic, their presence a reminder that a new prison might await her.

“We mean you no harm. We wish to establish a peace between our peoples.”

“So you
kidnap
me.” Clara raised a eyebrow, looking at each
savage.
Their eyes glittered in the shattered moonlight. “You rip a hole in the sphere...”

“How else were we to establish communication?” Bracus asked logically.

Clara crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes, feigning bravery she did not feel. “Peaceably?”

Bracus was silent. This was not going as expected. “I am Bracus.”

“I am Clara.” She looked at each
savage
in turn. If they meant to kill her, they would have done so already. Her eyes rested on the
savage
who had been outside her sphere. She was not sure what role he played, but she felt least confident about him.

“We need you to accompany us. Our President has a proposal...”

“Your president?”

“Our leader.” Philip  stepped forward, and Clara automatically stepped back, which made Bracus itch to touch her. He clenched his hands by his sides to halt the action.

They had no King?
Clara wondered.

Bracus saw her expression and, interpreting it correctly, answered. “We have a different hierarchy, Princess
.
”

“You don't seem like
savages
...” Except for the clothes, or lack thereof, she thought. But she, wisely, kept that to herself.

Bracus was offended. “We are not
savages
. We are the Clan of Ohio. And these men and myself... we are the Band, the protectors of our clan.”

Clara covered her mouth. The what? She looked up at him, willing herself not to laugh, but they all wore serious expressions.

The
savage
who frightened her came forward, and she cringed back.

Bracus, seeing her expression, looked that way and saw nothing but the Band. What frightened her so?

He opened his mouth to inquire when she spoke. “What do you mean to do with me?”

“Just a meeting with our President for a possible negotiation. Then you may return.”

She never wanted to return, not as long as the Queen ruled or Frederic held her captive under the sham of a marriage for alliance.

“But first, I must ask: who has laid hands upon you?”

She had no idea what he was talking about.

He touched his own face, indicating her injuries, and she was reminded of the beating.

Automatically, she replied, “I fell, in the Royal Manse, two days past.”

He stepped closer, and she fought not to move away.

“I know the abuse of a hand and the difference between that and clumsiness. You did not fall,” he stated with surety.

Clara said nothing. By sheer habit and force of will, she held her tongue. She was ashamed by her face, by not being able to defend herself. At least she would not admit it all to this stranger.
Bracus,
her mind supplied.

Bracus wished to run his hand over her injured face. Why would she not admit the truth? There was much here he needed to understand. There would be time. Somehow, in some way he could not explain, she reminded him of Anna, but not near so timid. The Princess had a fire inside her that burned bright. He smiled at her upturned face.

She smiled tentatively back, her anger beginning to leak away. She did not feel harm from him. Clara felt she was near expert in determining if someone meant to hurt her.

He turned, making his way ahead of her, and she followed. Her future lay uncertain before her, and she must follow it where it led, even if the outcome was a mystery. He held his hand out, and she placed hers within it. He made her feel safe, she was not sure why. She turned to look behind her. The
savage
she did not trust was at her heel, dark intent shadowing his face. She shuddered, walking on.

The guard bided his time. The Princess—Clara, he corrected—held the hand of his Captain. She was so close he could have reached out and moved his palm through her hair, which had come undone during all the transit. But he knew that time was his friend. And soon enough, he would have his chance to have her all to himself, protecting his clan from the dangerous females of the sphere.

****

They traveled back the way they had come. The horses came into view. Briar Rose appeared silver in the moonlight with a spattering of a darker color appearing along her back and sides. She shone like a faded star, and Clara was drawn to her as a moth to flame.

Bracus released her hand reluctantly as she approached the horse, and he warned her, “Not from behind, Princess. A horse likes to see a person's approach.”

“Clara,” she corrected absently.

She put her hand right up underneath the animal's nose and turned to Bracus. “May I pet it?”

“Her,” he corrected. “Briar Rose.”

“From the fairy tale?”

He looked surprised. “I have heard such.”

“Mayhap we have some of the same literature.”

“Much of what we had was lost.” Bracus shrugged.

Philip added, “In the Time when Ash Covered the Earth, we lost many things of importance.”

Stephen interrupted harshly. “It is not important. Survival is important. That is all that matters now.”

Matthew lifted his shoulders in clear dismissal, and Joseph said, “It is a hard thing, survival. But if happiness and purpose could be obtained as well, I would be keen for them.”

The group of men nodded, and Clara felt that their two peoples were not as divergent as she had presumed.

Reaching out, she touched the great horse's nose. It felt like crushed velvet beneath her hand.

She drew her hand away and looked at Bracus. “She is so soft.”

As if on cue, Briar Rose neighed quietly, shaking her mane and bumping Clara's hand, an invitation for more petting that made Clara laugh.

Bracus could not get enough of looking at her. Here she was, kidnapped from the only home she had known, with five strange men and a new animal she'd never laid eyes on, beaten, and yet she could enjoy a stolen moment with the horse.

Matthew broke the silent rapport. “Let us be about breaking down camp. We have much to accomplish, and the clan does not need our lengthy absence.”

Matthew was practical, and in this area especially, he was vigilant. They did not need the
fragment
to come lurking about while they were gone. Normally, five males would be too many to take, but Bracus had felt confident it was required. Now that the acquisition of the Princess was accomplished, he knew he had made the right choice.