Excerpt of In a Wild Wood by Sasha Lord

A shaft of pain burst through Brogan O'Bannon's consciousness as he jerked his eyes open. Pandemonium raged around him and hundreds of wolves seemed to swarm over his outstretched legs and around his bound body. Brogan tried to shake his head clear of the fog, but the action made him dizzy and the wolves appeared to double. Growls, snarls and multitudes of fierce, wild sounds roared over and around him, mixing with human screams. He ducked to defend himself against the wild dogs, yet found that his arms were bound behind his back to a solid Scottish Ash tree. He yanked with his considerable strength, but could not snap the sinew that tied him. He was propped up in a seated position and found that he could not rise despite his struggles. A clank of steel against steel caused him to look up, and he saw one of the men who had set upon him earlier engaged in battle with a young woman.

She wore a thick skirt of blue wool that fit closely to her body until it flared around her hips below a hammered girdle. Her hair was blacker than the darkest cave, and curled in riotous ringlets down past her waist. She leaped at the man she fought, her sword flashing. She struck him, then deliberately ran her sword through his side. As she pulled the steel free, the wolves pounced upon him and began to shred his flesh.

The man screamed, flailing against the wolves. He stumbled to his horse, and kicking out at the beasts, dragged himself across the saddle. He hauled himself upright and looked angrily at Brogan.

"You are warned, O'Bannon! Leave Scotland!" he screeched as he clutched his bleeding side. A sudden flurry of hoof beats announced the rapid departure of the remaining attackers and the injured man swung his horse around and galloped after them. The woman glared at their retreating backs as she waved her sword in the air. "Cowards!" she screamed after them. "Think you afore poaching on this land again!"

Brogan gasped at the gleaming turquoise of her eyes. The color was so fantastic. he could not believe it belonged to a woman of flesh and blood. A shiver of disquiet raced up his spine as he wondered if she was of the faerie people.

Matalia stared in surprise at the man trussed to the tree. She swung her sword up and placed the point at his throat, and looked fiercely into his eyes, daring him to cry for mercy. A wisp of twilight mist snaked between them, then was swept away.

Brogan felt the tip of the sword press into his neck yet he felt no fear. He noted the fine beads of perspiration that dotted her forehead and watched in swift arousal as one drop curled down her temple and into the hollow between her breasts. He felt his thudding heart send blood rushing to his Was. Instantly hardening, he lifted his eyes back to her face.

Matalia trembled slightly. Her hand on the sword wavered and nicked the man's throat. causing it to bleed. Shocked, she realized that his eyes were upon her breasts and he had ignored the cut to his skin. "Have you no fear, trespasser? I hold a blade above your vein of life. Should I press down upon it, you will bleed to death in moments." She mocked him, her voice low and husky.

Brogan felt desire swamp him at the sound. His perusal sank lower, caressing her hips. She shifted her weight, and a fold of wool became trapped momentarily between her thighs. Brogan's eyes burned into the vee and a groan slipped past his lips.

"Ach, mi lass, untie me and I will give you liquid more precious than me blood."

Matalia stepped back as if scalded. She glared at him, her exquisite eyes snapping in fury, although Brogan detected a flicker of uncertainly in the turquoise depths.

"You are a fool to taunt me so when you are at my mercy. I will not have you speak to me so dishonorably." She raised her sword yet again and made to step forward. Brogan bore his gaze into hers so powerfully, she froze. His eyes were stone gray, lifeless and hard. Twilight mists rose again and poured through the trees, enfolding hum, matching the color of his eyes. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, visible even through the layers of clothing. With a start, Matalia realized that he was pulling at his bonds, attempting to break free. Curiously detached, she tilted her bead to see if he would succeed.

As she watched him, her eyes crept slowly down his body, to the bulge between his legs that pulsed and grew as she watched it. Startled anew, she looked swiftly up into the still gray eyes.

"Come, little maiden, I'll appease your curiosity and teach you things your husband will never learn much less share with you. Come hither, and cut my ties." His voice was seductive and masculine. The controlled stillness of his body was like a coiled snake and Matalia felt a whisper of desire slither through her. She looked around her, at the creeping mist and darkening forest. Brogan watched her thoughts flit over her countenance and he tensed with anticipation.

Suddenly a howl burst out of the woods beside them and Brogan leaped, every muscle straining as he desperately sought to escape. "Quick!" he shouted. "Afore the wolves descend upon us again."

Another howl bounced across the clearing and three wolves stepped into the fading light. Horror struck, Brogan waited for them to leap upon the superb woman before him. A fierce growl came from his throat as he struggled mightily to break free. The wolves circled the woman, pulling their lips back in a hungry snarl. They snapped at her gown, grabbing it and pulling her toward the trees.

Then, as Matalia jerked her dress from their jaws, they lay in a semicircle around her, facing Brogan. Realization came to him. The hundreds of wolves he had seen earlier were actually only these three wild canines that flocked around the faerie maiden as if under her spell. He looked around quickly, remembering his own beast, and saw the wolfhound on his side, breathing deeply but still unconscious. He glanced back at the maiden and saw that she was approaching him cautiously.

"Can you not free yourself, man?" she queried softly. She leaned over slightly to look around him and Brogan saw the wool gape away from her breasts. A fine barrier of silk encased her body underneath, barring his view. He felt his head move forward as if by longing alone he could taste her flesh. She jerked back, abruptly aware of his gaze. "I asked you a question," she said sharply. "Can you not break those bonds?"

"Lass, if l could I would have done so a thousand times over by now, and put my arms to better use than cradling this tree trunk behind my back. Take pity, love, and free me." Brogan tried to keep his voice light and unthreatening, despite the turgid pain developing in his lap. He inched his hips forward to ease the strain, but stilled as Matalia's eyes swept down to observe his movements.

With deep, unfathomable eyes, Matalia tossed her sword away and kneeled down next to him. She reached out to touch his cheek. "I find that I am interested in how you feel, trespasser. You see, I rarely meet people not of my family." She pulled back, surprised at the sudden wariness in the man's eyes. "I am interested..." Her voice trailed off as she touched the first button on Brogan's shirt. A mist drifted in and out of the clearing, as swift as a deer in flight.

"Release me now, faerie maiden," he whispered as she unbuttoned his shirt. "Do as I say, little lass, for I can be a tender lover or a terrible foe." His gray eyes bored into her turquoise ones and imparted his message as clearly as his words.

Matalia stopped, considering. "What mean you, lover or foe?"

Brogan smiled seductively. "Undo my bonds. I can make you feel as if the heavens have opened and the stars are colliding in the sky. But I must have my hands to slide over your precious skin, to reach inside your private heart."

She jerked back, frightened both by his words and her response to them. She felt heat warming her thighs and her eyelids blinked quickly. "You should not say those things to me..." she murmured.

"Why not?" he asked.

She shook her head, not sure how to answer. She slowly backed away, calling her wolves to her side. "You should not say those things," she said again with more conviction.

Brogan snarled in frustration. "Come back here!" he commanded. "Untie me! Those men will come back and murder me. Set me free to defend myself!"

"I think not. The thieves are gone."

"They are not thieves. They are men sent by my brother to prevent my return," he said, but she was already disappearing back into the forest. He shouted at her again, infuriated that she would leave him so helpless, but she did not look back. He yanked on his bonds, then flung his head back and shouted his rage. Fifteen years of struggle! Fifteen years! And now this small, black haired girl thwarted him with her stubbornness!