Wolfsbane Read online

  Wolfsbane

  Nathalie Gray

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  ISBN # 1-4199-0479-5

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Wolfsbane Copyright© 2006 Nathalie Gray

  Edited by Mary Moran.

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication: May 2006

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Chapter One

  Hot tea splashed on his hand. Fredrick stifled a curse. No use giving the nasty little swine satisfaction.

  “Oh please do receive my apologies, Master Fredrick,” the servant sneered. He tossed on the tray the serviette wrapped over his forearm. The resulting whip of air caused the tiny flame of the candle to sputter and fret. Hurriedly, the man took it away from the table and shielded its flame with his cupped hand.

  Fredrick took pleasure in this small triumph. Light was precious to everyone in the darkened tower. Except to him.

  Fredrick dabbed his burning hand where already the pale skin was turning a sunburn shade of red. “If you’re going to torment a chained man, at least don’t pretend to be sorry.” He slid the tray, which the servant had placed within his reach, to his end of the table. The length of chain digging in his ankle clinked dully on the expensive rug.

  A malicious grin tugged the servant’s mouth. He mock-bowed. “As you command.”

  If Fredrick could only reach out and close a hand over the man’s throat. That’s all he’d need, one hand. Fredrick couldn’t remember the man’s name nor did he want to. The face looking at him now was familiar, of course, he’d been coming there twice a day, bringing in food and taking out the refuse. But no name. No use learning them.

  How many servants would his cousin send in, hoping to force him into her schemes? The first one she’d sent had been his real manservant, an honest man with thirty years’ honorable service. The old man’s death—his murder—still haunted Fredrick’s dreams. Then there’d been two maids and a young servant. When trying to win his consent by using friendly faces had failed, his cousin’s tactics had turned even more vicious. No more loyal servants from his own house had been allowed in the tower. Only her own handpicked sort. Thugs and ruffians from the city streets mostly.

  Disposables.

  Rage seeped into Fredrick’s heart. He forced it down. Rage meant he’d lose control, would allow his darker side to rule him. It was what his cousin wanted most—to break him. And this he could not let happen.

  “Thinking of revenge again?” the servant asked, too close to the truth. His dark eyes gleamed with malice above the tiny flame.

  “Cousin quickly tires of the likes of you,” Fredrick replied, enjoying the hatred tightening the servant’s mouth. It was one of his few pleasures left—taunting his tormentors.

  A small step brought the careless servant dangerously close to Fredrick’s reach. A mere foot away—yes, that’s it, come closer. It wouldn’t take long.

  The man must have sensed the imminent danger for he hurriedly backed away several paces. “Maybe I should pour the entire pot on your ungrateful head.”

  “Come here and do it.” Fredrick turned the teapot so the handle faced the other man.

  Alarm crept in his expression. Fredrick could smell it from where he sat. The stench of fear. “That’s what I thought.”

  This one had been in his cousin’s service for almost three months. He’d begun his duties as a genuine servant would then had become bolder by the day. The sneaky type, it’d started slowly, like using icy-cold water for his bath, or bringing only small amounts of food. The servant kept blaming the kitchen staff, of course. Because Cousin never tried to discourage the behavior, the verbal abuse had begun then the whole thing had spiraled downward. Cold meals, wine that smelled of urine, burning tea “accidentally” spilled on his hands. Fredrick could only guess the things that ended up in his food. But he had to eat. If only to remain strong in case…

  “You’re going to die here, you know that, don’t you?” the servant said after a while. His slicked-back hair looked greasier today. “She’ll grow sick of playing nice.”

  “I have already grown sick of ‘playing nice’, as you so ineptly put it,” a woman’s voice said from beyond the darkened doorway.

  Fredrick leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Good day, Cousin. How’s life in my castle?”

  His emphasis on the pronoun didn’t escape her for she scowled, which accentuated the hard lines of her beautiful face. “Our house, if you were not so stubborn.”

  Fredrick could have laughed. So predictable. “My house it shall remain then.”

  “Unfortunate,” she replied, seemingly gliding into the room, robes which hid her feet rustled on the imported carpet. “Leave us,” she said without looking at the servant. “The candle stays here,” she added when the man seemed to hover uncertainly near the door, still cupping the flame with his hand. He came back to the nearest end of the table and set the precious candle down.

  “Too bad she’ll kill you quickly. I would’ve made it last,” Fredrick called over his cousin’s shoulder.

  By the look on the man’s face, Fredrick knew his meal would be particularly disgusting tonight. He sighed.

  Using her silver cane like a pivot, she circled it twice before settling down at the other end of the table, well out of his reach, and toyed with the candleholder. A bead of hot wax glided down the length of the candle. Fredrick followed with his eyes until it hardened on her lacquered fingernail. He could remember what those had felt like on his back. A shiver prickled the fine hair along his forearms.

  “What will it take for you to see the light?” she asked, scoring a tiny notch in the wax with her glistening nail. “I have gone to great lengths and am prepared to go even farther.”

  “You’ll never go far enough to break me, Cousin. Even with the poison your charlatan gives me. But you already know that.” He knew exactly what they were giving him. Wolfsbane. How ironically appropriate.

  “My physician only puts a tonic in your food. It is your illness that makes you—”

  He threw her a menacing glare. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You’re poisoning me so I’m just lucid enough to be entertaining but not enough to be dangerous.” Fredrick knew his food contained a small amount of poison—tonic,
indeed—but he couldn’t stop eating, even if it meant being in a constant state of stupor. Starving would achieve nothing.

  She shrugged, which dislodged a strand of raven-colored hair from behind her ear. Bringing the silver pommel of the cane to her lips, she let it glide over her chin, down the length of her graceful neck then farther between her breasts, which swelled out of a tight, midnight blue corset. Straightening her long legs, she angled one outward, toward him, and ran the silver butt along the inside of her thigh, which poked out through a slit in the dress.

  His cousin may have been a greedy demon, but a beautiful, alluring woman she was also. And she knew it too, often using it on men. On him, much to his shame. By the time he’d realized she was seducing him, her trap had already been sprung and he’d woken up prisoner to his own tower, with Cousin bent on getting her claws into the family fortune. His family fortune. That was almost two years ago.

  “You may stop at your convenience, Cousin,” he said with pretend levity. He wouldn’t even call her by name. The mere taste of it revolted him. She despised him for it, had often tortured him to make him say her name. She hadn’t succeeded so far. And she wasn’t even his real cousin, only shared the family name. Strictly speaking, she was his cousin’s descendant. But flaunting about that bit of genealogy could mean people would figure out his real age. Something he couldn’t afford to do. Only four people knew who he was—two of them were in this very room. So she’d begun calling Fredrick “cousin” to taunt him, with him returning the favor.

  “What makes you think I do this for your pleasure?” The silver butt snaked through the velvet slit of her dress, which parted wider and allowed him a view of her long, pale thigh.

  Fredrick took his glass, brought it to his lips. Thankfully, the wine tonight smelled like nothing else but wine. And a good year it was, as well. From his own personal cellar, no doubt. Maybe that charlatan hadn’t poisoned his meal tonight. Maybe he’d get a chance. Fredrick tried not to get excited at the prospect of having a clear mind for the first time in a long while. He tried not to hope.

  Fire accompanied the liquid down his throat. Peculiar. Licking his numbing lips, he brought the glass down and noticed his hand shook slightly. The witch.

  “Someday…” Fredrick snarled. Already, his vision clouded.

  His cousin smiled as she ran the length of the cane back and forth between her thighs. “It is just something to make you docile as a kitten—or should I say as a puppy?”

  Fredrick’s tongue felt heavy, his throat tight. He cleared the tabletop with a swipe of his arm, stood on shaky legs and stumbled at the end of his chain, straining to reach her, squeeze her detestable throat until she turned blue. The old, familiar burn at his ankle didn’t bother him much. Not with the drug this demon had put in his wine. He knew what was coming and hated her for it.

  She’d steal his seed again, futilely trying to get a proper heir, and violate him while the drug kept him the obedient dog. But she’d never succeeded in getting with child. Did she think he had lived all these years willingly alone, wifeless, childless, barren as a field in winter? He couldn’t have children. And even if he could, he’d never curse someone to a life such as his. But if Cousin came to learn she couldn’t get a proper heir to inherit the von Innsbruck name and fortune, he’d be dead within the hour. So he kept the knowledge to himself, hoping Cousin would merely torture him so he’d sign the deed. Torture was better than the thought of her raising his child. Any child.

  “How I love watching you like this,” she said. A maniacal glint made her pale eyes striking.

  The poison’s effect began subtly—as with the last times—then grew in intensity. His belly constricted around the base of his member, tightened into a searing ring, and burned what little resolve still clung to his fogged mind. He had to fight it. At least try. But his instincts were taking over. Lust flared inside him.

  Never love, though. He’d never love this woman or any other. Treacherous creatures, all of them!

  “Come here,” he heard his raspy voice say, though he would’ve preferred killing her with his bare hands.

  His fingers reached out of their own volition and clutched at the air while thoughts of her filled his head, flailed his heart, swelled his member. “Come…here.”

  The silver butt of her cane—his cane, damn her—emerged glistening from her dress. With a feral lift of her ruby lips, she brought it up to her face and flicked a forked tongue at it.

  Logically, Fredrick knew the woman’s tongue couldn’t have been forked. But try as he might, he couldn’t clear his mind. He was slowly losing his grip on reality. He didn’t even know what he’d been given, only that it reduced him to a throbbing, lusting beast. That charlatan of a physician she kept around! It was his doing. If there ever were a day Fredrick broke free of his prison, there’d be no hole deep enough for the snake to crawl into.

  A groan escaped him when he collapsed onto one knee, the chain still taut behind him, tearing his ankle, reminding him who was in control. Sounds came to him muffled and distorted. Light from the lone candle atop the table intensified, turned crimson, chased shadows to the ends of the circular room. Everything began to spin. Fredrick felt as though his member would explode from the strain. Demonic spawn. How he hated her.

  She stood, but left the cane on the table. Coming closer but just out of his reach, she knelt facing him and parted her dress so he could watch her introduce a finger into her orchid-pink flesh.

  “Sign the deed and make me your wife, and you can have it anytime you wish, Fredrick.” Lacquered nails pulled at her lips, circled the engorged bud. “I would let you do all the things you have ever wanted to do to a woman but were afraid to. You would wake up in the middle of the night with your flesh sunk deep in mine.” She moaned deep in her throat. “Husband and wife, Fredrick, would that not be thrilling? And after your untimely passing, it would all be mine,” she murmured while giving herself pleasure.

  His name and lands. Castle Innsbruck. His beloved people.

  His mind was fogging up. Fredrick clutched at his forehead, fisted his hair. “No.”

  “No?” she replied with a short laugh. “You want me more now than you can bear. I know the effect of what flows in your veins for I use it too.”

  “Go to Hell,” Fredrick snarled.

  She laughed again. The sound of a cracked bell. “All in good time. First, you will take me to Heaven.”

  The door opened and in came a man. His features were chiseled and hard, his eyes gleaming. “Just in time, I see,” he said with a rich voice.

  Fredrick’s rage reached the boiling point. He pointed an accusing finger at the man. “Lothar…demon. I’ll get you…”

  Lothar smiled widely. “And I am looking forward to that day.”

  His cousin bent far back when Lothar came up behind her and let his hands caress her breasts through the bodice. His ponytail spilled over his shoulder. Then his fingers snaked lower, to the place where Fredrick wanted to sink his flesh so much it hurt. Breathing hard now, Cousin let the man slip his fingers into her while her eyes never left Fredrick’s face.

  Gathering her gown in one hand, she pulled it up, giving Fredrick an explicit view. Her knees spread wide when she arched back. Lothar also kept his gaze on Fredrick while he stabbed his fingers into the panting woman. She yanked her bodice down under her breasts and squeezed her nipples hard. Fredrick saw the bruised flesh turn red.

  Fredrick squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth. If he could only control his response the way he did when…

  “Watch me.” His cousin’s command made him flinch.

  A drug-induced snarl of excitement rumbled in Fredrick’s chest when Lothar wrapped a thick fist around her long hair and pushed her down on her elbows. While he kept her down, with his other hand he undid the buttons on his trousers. His thick member sprung out of its confines and glistened threateningly over the woman’s denuded backside. But instead of sinking it into her—something Fredrick was ashamed
to realize he wanted more than anything—the man raised his large hand high. The clack of skin against skin resounded in the circular room.

  “Harder,” she snarled, her gaze riveted to Fredrick’s.

  The man slapped her cheek again, hard. Roughly pulling her around so Fredrick could get a full view of her glistening sex and spread-wide behind, the man slapped her again, this time so hard she cried out. Again and again his hand came down. Again and again, the woman snarled for him to hit harder, even taunting him with unspeakable words.

  The poison in Fredrick’s veins melted away the last of his resolve, of his pain and rage and frustration. With a snarl, he tore open his long black tunic. Buttons landed everywhere with small clicks. Smells of her reached him, tiny sounds from her throat made him claw at himself. He was already kneeling but he collapsed on his hands as well, a monstrous erection hanging heavy between his thighs. Yet Fredrick couldn’t keep his gaze away, even if at the same time, a small, faint part of his brain told him to fight the poison, to clear his thoughts.

  His cousin reached behind her and grabbed the man’s shirt, pulling him down on top of her. In a golden brown cascade his ponytail grazed her back. “Savage me.”

  He did.

  Fredrick gasped at the sight of the man clutching two handfuls of her gown and using these as anchors to violently thrust himself into the writhing woman. Her knees left the floor.

  Visions exploded in Fredrick’s brain.

  His cousin was on her knees, bucking back against him. Pleasure ripples clutched at his shaft. He was digging his fingers into her flesh. She arched back. Screamed. Then a searing rod impaled him from behind, breached the sensitive skin of his anus. Fredrick growled in pain yet continued thrusting himself into his cousin, hoping to quench the poisoned yearning. Behind, Lothar hurt him with his too-hard thrusts. Fredrick felt his hair being pulled back. Lothar bit him on the shoulder, triggering monstrous arousal that scared Fredrick. He, in turn, imagined he bit his cousin on the shoulder. Blood flowed from the hideous wound.