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  • The Mountain Ch. 05

The Mountain Ch. 05

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Thanks for all your comments! I only have one more chapter completely written, so the chapter updates may be a little slower from here on out. I could definitely use a beta reader to keep things moving. If anyone is interested, please private message me!

#

When she woke, she was aware of two things. The first was a consuming, throbbing pain in her wrist. The second was Warder.

He was in the room with her. He was there and together they had done--what had they not done?

Images flashed through her mind. His body covering hers. She had urged him on. She had begged him.

She had an image of herself kneeling at Warder's feet and taking him into her mouth, sucking and teasing with her tongue until he grew hard. When he came, he had held her head against him and she had swallowed every drop.

What had come over her? Had she been drugged? There could be no other explanation for the way she had acted. She hadn't been herself and now that she was, she had to focus exclusively and completely on the challenge of finding her way out of the mountain and to safety. Her mission didn't matter anymore. Or, at least, she was incapable now of carrying it out. She was too weak.

She had given herself to that creature. He hadn't forced her. She had begged him. What drugs could do that?

She willed herself to rise. She knew he lurked nearby and she thought, perhaps, that she could kill him now with her bare hands. If only she could lift her head. The throbbing in her wrist revealed itself to be only the worst of a litany of aches and pains, including the wound his teeth had left at her shoulder. She felt as if she had run for miles. Her muscles throbbed. Her pussy was sore and when she looked down, she saw blood and...other things...dried on her thighs. Her head spun at the movement and she lay back down, turning sideways so that she could see the table and the desk.

No sign of Warder.

He wasn't in the bed. She sat up, more slowly this time, and scanned the room.

Nothing.

Shakily, she got to her feet and walked to the tiny bathroom. The door was ajar, as usual, and she saw that it, too, was empty.

She was alone.

Still, she felt as if Warder were in the room, watching her. She felt that he was the near the same way that she could sometimes feel if someone was watching her from across the room. She tried the metal door, wondering if he were lying in wait on the other side, determined to face him. The door creaked a bit at her efforts, but it remained shut and there was no movement on the other side.

Lucy shook her head to try to clear it. The sense of Warder's closeness remained, and she easily summoned a headache on top of her other pains.

Uncertain how to proceed, Lucy stumbled back to the tiny bathroom and turned the single tap. She tried turning it all the way right and then all the way left and realized in a moment why she had been afforded the luxury of the distant bath. The shower tap only ran cold, and beneath the warmth of her over-used muscles, the feeling of intense, permanent chill that she usually felt inside the stone walls had returned. Defiantly, she forced herself under the cold spray anyway, scrubbing at her skin until she felt certain that every sign of his attentions had been washed away. Even after she was clean, she forced herself to remain standing under the spray. She realized that she was waiting for the water to wash away this strange awareness of him, the sense of his presence that she could not shake.

It wasn't working and her teeth were actually beginning to chatter, something she had only experienced once before during an ill-advised February swim at the beach.

She turned off the water and stood still in the cold air. She didn't have a towel or any clothes. After a moment of indecision, she snatched one of Warder's towels from the laundry basket that sat out, abandoned by Persephone. She sniffed it warily. She could smell his scent on the fabric. She didn't want to undo what she had tried to accomplish with the shower, but she was freezing. She patted herself dry with the towel. Shivering, and with her skin still slightly damp, she slipped a clean shirt over her head.

She wanted to climb back into the bed and hide under the covers. But the covers smelled of him, too. Worse, they smelled of the mingled scent of their lovemaking. They were wrinkled from sweat and fluid, tangled up and even torn in places. She slid to the floor near the foot of the bed, huddling into the corner and bringing her knees up under the fabric of Warder's shirt.

"This isn't real," she told herself out loud. "This didn't happen."

All the while, she was aware of Warder, his being and not-being with her. She was not alone even though she felt incredibly lonely.

#

When he returned, she was grateful.

Only because it was him and not Persephone.

She couldn't face Persephone's derision. She had little energy, and being cold and angry with Warder consumed all of it.

Warder closed and locked the metal door as usual, scanning the room. He found her easily and frowned. "Your hair is wet," he said. "You'll freeze."

He had carried a basket into the room. He set it down and retrieved a clean blanket. Crouching next to her, he wrapped it around her shoulders, gathering her hair and arranging it so that it was outside the blanket instead of touching her neck.

The warmth had the effect of setting her shivering again. Without comment, Warder gathered her into his arms and sat with her on the bed, chafing his hands up and down her body until the shivering ceased. "What were you thinking?" he said.

She tried to answer, but she was too weak.

When her shivers ceased, he set her down and retrieved a towel. Silently, he began to squeeze the water out of her hair, brushing out the tangles with his long fingers.

The way he was tending to her was almost soothing, and as Lucy regained her strength, she found the energy to push him away. He let her and stood up, watching her with something that looked almost like concern. He dumped the contents of the basket onto the bed next to her.

"Persephone has acquired you more suitable clothes," he said. "Dress warmly."

She didn't have to be invited again to cover her body. She reached a hand out from under the blanket and sifted through the offerings. There were more of the same unsuitably summery dresses, but there were also leggings lined in a fleecy material and a black sweater. She pulled on a pair of the leggings, a dress, and the sweater. The heaviest item of clothing in the pile was a fleecy lined jacket, similar to Warder's. She slipped into this as well, running one hand over the buttery-smooth leather.

Persephone wouldn't have wanted her to have anything this nice. She knew it as well as she knew that Warder was watching her again. He had picked out these clothes or arranged for her to have them. She was sure of it.

She recalled the other jacket with the antenna hidden inside and saw that it was still lying on the floor, discarded when Warder had undressed her. Slowly, she took off the new jacket and made a beeline for the old one.

"This one is warmer," she said, shrugging into it, her face flaming.

Warder misinterpreted her blush. He assumed that even as his mate refused to meet his eyes, she found herself drawn to the jacket that held his scent. Her behavior reassured him that she would settle, with time. Her emotions would be heightened by all that had happened, but she would also begin to feel safer in his care, whether she wished it or not. And once he knew he could trust her, he would allow her to visit her home--under his guard, of course. Once that promise was kept, he would never have to worry about her leaving the mountain again.

Unless...

But it was too soon to ascertain what the future would bring. From the moment he saw her, he sensed that she would be powerful in her submission. But only time would tell what that truly meant. She was omega--of that, he was certain. But whether she was what he had been looking for, the missing link to a plan to finally leave the mountain?

Only time would tell.

He had to come to know her better. To test the boundaries of their bond.

He relished the opportunity.

But it was too soon to bed her again. She was moving slowly, clearly sore. And now that the haze of estrous had faded, she would redouble her efforts to distance herself from him. Likely, she would cling more fiercely to hating him as punishment for the way she would still crave his presence. His cock.

Realizing thoughts in that direction would weaken his resolve not to have her again, he chose to stick to his plan to take her out of the room.

"You'll want your boots, too," said Warder. "We're going out."

"Out?"

Warder nodded.

Watching him warily, Lucy pulled on her boots. He thought to carry her again, but that measure had been intended to keep her from seeing where they were going. Eventually, she would need to learn some of the more important pathways through the mountain. He would allow her to walk.

When he gestured for her to leave the room, she hesitated and then scurried out of his way, following behind him. He noted that she took care to keep at least an arm's length away from him. Swiveling her head back and forth, she was noting every small change in the monotonous scenery. His mate was clever and was always seeking information to help her to escape. He allowed it because he knew that it was her pride that made her strong. Eventually, he would force her to see that her place with him was all she would ever want.

#

Sheera cursed as yet another tendril of ivy tangled in her hair. She yanked it away, cursing again when she managed to yank several hairs out of her head. Taking a deep breath, she let her annoyance cool and reached up, using her knife to cut away some of the offending vine.

This part of the island was completely overgrown, one of many buffer zones between the islanders and the mountain. Two days ago, the council had decreed that islanders were no longer permitted to leave the safety of the main village. The few remaining islanders who lived outside the most populated areas--farmers, loaners, and a few die-hards who refused to leave what had once been secluded summer homes--had been moved to temporary housing in the old school gym.

The explanation given was lingering tension with the mountain people since Lucy's capture. Sheera knew there had to more to it, but her father was frustratingly silent on the subject. Normally, she would have found out the rest in a few days with eavesdropping or other forms of casual reconnaissance. But she had chosen to remain focused on her goal of finding a way into the mountain from the power plant. Let the elders posture and make their decrees--she would do something real.

The ban on travel did make things difficult. Sheera knew at least a dozen ways to move in and out of the village undetected, but only a very few were comfortable. The safest routes--in terms of fear of detection--were also the least convenient.

"Hey, gorgeous."

Sheera stopped swinging her knife just in time to avoid Miles. He jumped back with a laugh and put his hands on his hips, blocking her path.

"What do you want?"

"I haven't seen you in a week," said Miles. "I figured if I wanted to talk to you, I had to risk getting caught leaving the village, too."

"You're an idiot," said Sheera half-heartedly.

"I'm horny," said Miles.

"God," said Sheera. She pushed past him, mindful of the knife, and squinted in the direction of the village, trying to determine if Miles had left a path she could take advantage of.

"No one saw me," said Miles. "And besides, I have permission to travel freely."

That caught Sheera's attention.

"Why's that?" She turned back around and Miles grinned.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"You're unusually cocky today, Miles," said Sheera.

"Am I? I thought I was always pretty cocky."

Sheera gave a short laugh. "You know that you have information I might actually be interested in and it's making you obnoxious."

"You usually find my obnoxious behavior charming."

Miles closed the distance between the in a few puppy-like strides. He reached for her hand and tugged her all the way around to face him, resting his free hand against her cheek. "I know you miss her," he said, "but you can't keep disappearing. You can't withdraw entirely. You'll go crazy."

"Maybe I already am," said Sheera.

She had meant to lighten the mood, but Miles only shook his head. "You're lucky then," he said. "I like my women a little crazy."

"I am not your woman, Miles," said Sheera, giving him a light shove. "Get over yourself."

"We could--" He rested his palm against the tree, cornering her.

"I'm not going to fuck you against that tree, Miles."

"Okay," said Miles, frowning. "What about that one?"

Despite herself, Sheera laughed. "I'm not feeling it, Miles."

"Let me see if I can help you with that."

Miles dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching for the hem of her skirt. Sheera pushed at his shoulders, but she didn't truly intend to dissuade him. In a moment, she was leaning back against the very tree that Miles had indicated, biting her lip to keep from moaning.

When he wasn't talking, Miles had a very talented tongue.

He brushed his teeth lightly over her clit and Sheera came, tangling her fingers in his hair. When she came back to herself, she tugged harder, urging him to his feet. In a moment, he released himself from his jeans and plunged into her while Sheera pulled at his shirt, seeking to rake her fingers along his strong back.

"Sheera--"

"Pull out," she commanded.

"I will. I will. I'm almost--"

She pinched him, hard, and then shoved him away.

"I wasn't ready!"

"I was," said Sheera, trying to keep her voice light. She had been almost completely lost in Miles, his body, his scent. She couldn't afford to lose herself so completely. She needed to stay in control. "I've decided you don't know anything I want to know after all. You're just a little boy lost in the woods."

"Fuck you--"

"No," said Sheera, running ahead of him down the path to the village.

"Sheera!" Miles shouted after her, his usually calm voice shot through with anger. "There's going to be a rebellion. If I die fighting, would you even fucking care?"

Sheera stopped. "They can't do that," she said, quickly closing the distance between them. "They'll never win and Lucy would end up as collateral damage. We need to be smart about this!"

"Right," said Miles as he tugged his jeans back into place, "And smart is lurking around that abandoned power plant all day chasing your father's crazy theories. Theories that even he has abandoned, let me remind you."

"You have to stop this, Miles. It's suicide."

"You think I can't do anything. That just because I let you lead in bed, I'm weak."

"There is power in submission," said Sheera. "And it's difficult to dominate someone you don't respect."

"Those monsters inside our mountain seem to be doing just fine."

"Maybe they do respect us," said Sheera. "After all, it's been years and they could have killed us. They haven't. But if we attack--"

"Oh, you're a sympathizer now?" said Miles. "Even after what they've done to Lucy?"

"We don't know what they've done," said Sheera. "Don't talk about her like she's dead."

"You can't stop this, Sheera," said Miles. "You can't control everything."

#

"Where are we going?" asked Lucy.

"Back to the Great Hall," said Warder.

This time, Warder was allowing her to walk. She was still weak and hurting from their time together, but she pretended she wasn't, afraid he would insist on carrying her again if he realized how she was hurting. She followed behind him and he got further and further ahead. When he turned abruptly and saw how far back she was, he frowned.

"I'm all right," she said quickly. "You just have--longer legs than me," she added, catching her breath.

After that, Warder walked more slowly. She could see that it pained him. His powerful body seemed to radiate impatience at being forced to move at such a pace, even if his movements remained fluid and graceful.

They passed few people in the hallway and everyone they did see seemed to be in a hurry, too. Still, Lucy had a sense that the strangers were aware of her and of Warder. They were careful to give them space in the wide tunnel. Around a corner, the tunnel widened and a teenage girl rushed by, mumbling to herself. Her shoulder brushed Lucy's arm as she passed and Warder stopped short at the same time she did. He let out a low growl and the girl jumped, eyes wide, leaping away from Lucy as if she had been shocked. She didn't say anything, but she looked from Lucy to Warder with wide eyes and an open mouth.

"Oh--" was all she said. "I--I'm sorry, Warder."

"Watch where you're going," said Warder shortly, acknowledging the apology with a curt nod. Then, he shoved at Lucy until she was standing more firmly behind him.

"Don't talk to anyone," he said as she hurried away. "They might talk to you."

It hadn't occurred to her that they would see other people. Always, before, she had been kept from them. As if it were only herself and Warder and Persephone--and Grace--inside the mountain.

Lucy estimated that it had taken them about ten minutes to reach the Great Hall on the first night Warder had taken her there. With her walking, it took at least twice as long. Partly, this was because she was still weak. But even at full strength, this did not bode well for her next attempt at escape. If--when-- she could find a way out of Warder's room, she would need to cover twice as much ground as he did to get ahead of him.

Thoughts of escape were briefly replaced in her mind by an awareness of a strange sound. It was like water flowing over rocks. Not the gentle trickle that seemed to be everywhere inside the mountain. But a cacophonous flood, like a waterfall or the crashing waves of the distant ocean. As Lucy tuned in to the sound, it clarified and she realized that what she was hearing was a flood of voices emanating from the curved entrance to the Great Hall. The room that had been so strange and empty and bright when she had first seen it was now very obviously full of people.

Mountain People.

Self consciously, she tugged at her sleeve, pulling the heavy fabric of the jacket down over the wound on her wrist. She didn't know why it seemed important to hide it. Somehow, she suspected that the wound would give her away, telling people about what she had done with Warder. Warder noticed what she was doing. He caught her wrist--gently, so as not to reopen the wound.

"They will know," said Warder. "Even if they can't see it. They can smell it."

She ignored him and tugged harder on the heavy sleeve of the jacket. Warder stood next to her, trapping her between his body and the curved wall of the hallway. He waited until she had arranged the jacket just so. Then, he reached up and gently brushed her hair--dried now into a riot of tangled curls--over her left shoulder, so that the mark he had made on the right side of her neck was clearly visible. To fix her hair, she would have to let go of the jacket. Either way, the evidence of his claim on her would be visible. Glaring at him, she tried to step out of his arms. He stopped her, pressing her gently but firmly back against the wall.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You weren't allowed to go out before, being what you were. Now, we are mated. It is safer for you inside the mountain, so I am giving you an opportunity to meet some of my people. It will be easier for you to imagine a life here if you have connections beyond our own."

Mated?

Lucy choked back a laugh. "I don't want more connections," she said. "And I'm not going to make friends inside the mountain. That's called 'Stockholm Syndrome.'"

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