Summoned and Stolen (Summoned Series Romances)

Summoned and Stolen

Summoned into slavery, but unchained by love...

Lily is a magically bound slave who exists only to serve as a living ornament - the greatest of her master’s treasures.  When her master is killed, she finds herself bound to a vicious and cruel Duke whose dark intentions leave her terrified for her life.

Kel is the leader the fiercest mercenary army in the kingdoms, answering to no man and guided only by his personal code of honor. Upon learning that he and his men fought and died so their employer could gain control of a fae pleasure slave, he is furious. When that same man breaks his word and refuses to pay for Kel’s services, the mercenary knows just how to even the score.  He steals the Duke’s prize, the lovely fae slave.

Freedom comes at a cost, and the price Kel paid for the slave girl has made him a wanted man. Now the renegade warrior and the soft-hearted fae healer are running for their lives.  To survive, Lily must put her life in the bloodstained hands of a killer. To have what her heart desires, she’ll need to heal more than Kel’s wounds. She’ll need to heal his heart.

Length:
34,556 words

Summoned and Stolen

Copyright © 2013 by Susan Hayes

First E-book Publication: December 2013

Cover design by Sloan Winters

Edited by
S.L. Whitcomb

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

DEDICATION

For Karen, who got me into this crazy business.

For my parents, who always support me no matter what.

And for Neva, who always wants to know what my next story is going to be.

***

CHAPTER 1

The war was finally over.

It
had been a long campaign comprised of far too many brutal battles. Each victory had allowed them to press deeper into the enemy’s territory, but each one had demanded a terrible price in men and blood, on a scale that left even a hardened soldier like Kel feeling uneasy. After a lifetime spent selling his sword, Kel had seen wars waged over everything imaginable, land, gold, insult or even boredom. In all those years, he had never seen a war like this. Today his side had finally taken the city, breaching the walls and slaying the Duke’s enemy. The Earl of Rockland’s blood now mingled with the blood of his men, staining the battleground forever.

Kel had been summoned from his tent
a few scant hours after the final battle was won. He had stayed on the battlefield, walking through the slurry of mud and blood until he had accounted for every man under his command. The injured were taken to be cared for, the dead were carried away to be given a proper burial. He was grateful that today there had been few injuries and even fewer deaths among the men he commanded. He had buried enough friends on this campaign, and the weight of their memories was starting to blacken his soul. Maybe it was time for him to retire. The only trouble was, this was the only life he knew, and he couldn’t entrust the lives of his men to anyone else.

He was washing away the blood and grime of battle when the messenger had arrived with a summons. Kel still had other duties to perform
and companions to mourn, but they would have to wait. Camford, the Duke of Southmoor, had few virtues at all, and patience was certainly not one of them. Still, the sooner His Grace paid Kel what was owed them, the sooner he and his men could return home to Viren Hold.

Kel took a few minutes to advise Leif, his second in command, to be ready to move out quickly if trouble arose, and then called for his horse. The ride from his camp to the Duke’s was not overly long. He could have walked, but Kel had long since learned that it was always best to have horse and blade near at hand. One never knew what would happen at the end of a mercenary contract. There were always those foolish few who, when the battle was done, looked for a way to renege on the agreement and keep their precious gold.

The day’s fighting had taken its toll on Kel, both in body and spirit. He would have preferred to spend time with his men, mourning the loss of friends instead of having to deal with the gluttonous duke who’d hired Kel to win this war for him. Kel’s body ached from bruises, and the fatigue that could only come spending a day on a battlefield, where every moment of life was claimed at the expense of someone else’s. He was tired. The last thing he wanted to do was to listen to the gloating of the unpleasant lump of flesh that was the Duke of Southmoor.

The Duke’s men watched with battle weary expressions as he rode into their camp, but he saw the glint of grudging respect in their eyes. Kel and his War Dogs had won this war for them, and there wasn’t a man here that didn’t know it.

Not bad for a bastard-born son of a king.

Camford’s area of the camp was a riot of banners and flags that marked a collection of tents spanning an area large enough to house an entire village. In all the years that Kel had been selling his sword, he’d yet to meet a single royal who understood how to travel lightly. He dismounted and tethered his war horse, Jagged, to a sapling some distance from the tent-city, leaving the knot loose just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. With an inward sigh, he
started for the entrance of the largest of the tents, bracing himself for what he would find inside. Courtiers and sycophants, soft music and softer living were the way of things in the Duke’s world. Kel had little love for any of it. He had even less tolerance for the Duke’s darker appetites. Obscene amounts of food and drink were consumed while the soldiers who fought and bled at their Duke’s whim ate field rations and tainted water.

Then there were the Duke’s pleasure slaves. Even in the final days of the war, the Duke turned warlord had insisted they be kept in camp so that he could sate himself day and night. His closest advisors and favored companions were permitted to indulge themselves as well, and Kel had been invited to partake on more than one occasion as a reward for a victory. He had never accepted the invitation, and he never would. He might be a bastard-born mercenary, but he had his own
code of honor and it did not include taking advantage of slaves.

His personal code was what allowed him sleep at night, but he had another set of rules to ensure he continued to draw breath. Rule number one was simple, never anger or betray the man paying for your services. Kel had never broken a contract or failed to deliver on a promise, which is why he and his War Dogs were one of the most sought out mercenary band in the kingdoms.

Kel ducked his head as he crossed through the doorway and into the Duke’s domain. He’d kept his mouth shut and given the man his victory. Now, Kel just wanted to get paid and put as much distance as he could between himself and his soon to be former employer.

The space that had been designated as the main gathering room was full of people, but all of them gave way before him. None of them wanted to irritate the battle-scarred mercenary who strode like a god through their midst. It was an image he had worked hard to create over the years. He wore chainmail in contrast to their gilded finery, and his red-gold hair was longer than fashion would dictate, braided in the front so that it stayed out of his eyes when he fought. The men who paid for his sword found it easier to deal with a hardened soldier who spoke and acted a certain way, so Kel gave them what they wanted. He may have been given a noble man’s upbringing, but he had turned his back on that life a long time ago.

Camford was not to be found in the first tent he entered, and so Kel made his way back outside, into a sort of courtyard that made up the center of the city of tents. Navigating this nightmare had been nearly impossible at first, but now Kel knew what he would find in each of the tents, and where he would most likely find Camford. The courtyard was filled with servants and slaves bustling to keep up with the various demands of the Duke’s entourage. The delicious aroma of roasting meat rose from the cooking fires that took up the middle of the space, and Kel felt a pang of hunger as he passed by.

A steady stream of servants was carrying tray after tray into the tent Camford normally claimed as his dining area, and Kel followed them in, using their entrance instead of taking the one designated for those the Duke favored. Kel preferred to use the servant’s entrances whenever he could. It made helped to maintain the illusion that he was a rough man in fine company.

He found Camford celebrating the victory with his inner council. The air was thick with the scent of spilled liquor and the cloying perfumes worn by nearly everyone present. The heat of the summer day had been trapped inside the heavy fabric walls of the tent, making the space uncomfortably warm. The walls themselves were drenched in garish patterns of gold and crimson that made Kel’s eyes ache. Thick rugs had been thrown onto the ground, smothering the grass beneath them.

The Duke and his council were already feasting heavily, and judging by their flushed faces and unsteady gazes, they were well into their cups too. Several of the men were already enjoying the attentions of the Duke’s pleasure slaves, and Kel said a small prayer to whatever Gods were listening that he would be able to complete his business and leave quickly. He had no interest in being present for another of Camford’s legendary orgies.

“Kel!” Camford’s voice was a deafening boom that matched his massive girth. “Kel, my fine fellow. Come, drink with us!”

“Your Grace. Congratulations on your victory today.” Kel bowed and crossed the space to claim a seat at the far end of the table. From this vantage point he could see the entire room, as well as offering him a seat near to yet another servant’s entrance. The position granted him both the luxury of a small amount of fresher air, as well as nearby exit.

Camford waved one of the scantily clad women in Kel’s direction, but as soon as she had
poured Kel a goblet of wine, he deflected her attempts to settle in his lap. Kel had refused the Duke’s offerings every time he had an audience with the man. He would be damned to the dark Gods before he would take part in such cruel decadence.

Kel took his newly filled goblet and
raised it toward his host, who was busy stripping the meat from a drumstick with noisy gusto. He waited until the Duke set down his meal before making his toast. “To your victory.”

“To victory!” the others echoed and drank deeply. Kel let the wine touch his lips, but nothing more. He had a sense he was going to need his wits about him tonight. There was nothing he could put his finger on, but his gut instinct was that something here wasn’t right.

Camford’s rings winked and sparkled in the torchlight as he drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “You were no small part of today’s success, and you have earned my gratitude. Eat. Drink. Celebrate with us!”

“You are too generous, Your Grace.” Kel nodded his head toward the Duke and began load a plate with food. He knew his employer’s moods well enough by now to know there was no point in refusing to eat. When the Duke was in a mood to share, it was best to pick what things to refuse and what to accept. Camford was a man who took offense easily and rarely forgave anything. Thank the Gods, this would be the last time Kel had to linger long in the vile man’s company. Tomorrow, he and his men would be on their way home.

The campaign had been longer and far more brutal than he had been lead to expect when he signed on, and Kel now regretted taking the contract at all. No amount of money would bring back the men he had lost this past season, though there would be enough to see to it that every widow had all she needed to care for herself and any children that were left fatherless. It was a pledge he made to every man who fought for him. If they fell, the War Dogs would care for their families.

“What good is it to have all of the best things in the world if I cannot share it? I collect only the finest of everything, which is why I hired you and your men.” Camford ended his statement with a rich belch.

“As I said already, Your Grace, you are a very generous man,” Kel said. The hairs on the back of his neck were itching now, and he had to fight the instinct to drop his hand to the hilt of his sword. The Duke was up to something, he could feel it. The trouble with working for stupid men was that they never understood the dangers of crossing a mercenary with an army at his back.

“I thought perhaps you would like to see what you and your men have been fighting for.” Camford licked his grease-slicked lips and smiled, an expression that did nothing to improve his appearance.

“I was not aware this war was fought over an item, your Grace. Of course, it was not my place to inquire.” Kel gave the porcine nobleman his most disarming smile and shrugged. “I do not need to know why I fight, only where the enemy can be found.”

The truth was that that Kel had tried to learn the reasons for the war before he had ever signed on to fight in it, but there had been no reason, political or otherwise. At least none his sources could uncover.

The Duke’s laughter boomed. “Indeed, indeed. I do appreciate a man who knows what’s important. Still, I would like for you to see her. She is a prize worth warring over, I assure you.” He clapped his soft, pudgy hands together. “Bring me my prize!”

Her? Prize? Bile rose in Kel’s throat at the Duke’s words. Had he and his men shed blood and lost friends over a
woman
? Had this whole godsforsaken war been fought so the Duke could indulge his appetite for perversion?

A section of an inner wall was drawn aside and one of the Duke’s servants appeared.

He carried an elaborately wrought ironwork cage that couldn’t have been more than two feet across. The servant’s complete attention was on a tiny, glowing orb that sat in the center of the cage, and he made no effort to look where he was going.

Frustrated with the servant’s lack of speed, Camford slammed his hand down on the table. “I said, bring me my prize!”

Startled by the noise, the servant jumped, which in turn caused him to trip over his own feet. As he pitched forward he let go of the cage, sending it flying into the air. Kel’s reflexes kicked in before he had time to think. He was on his feet in a flash, catching the cage as carefully as he could. The orb of light within flickered several times before regaining a steady, silvery glow.

Curious, Kel narrowed his gaze. Beyond the dazzling light he could almost swear there was something…or someone inside the cage. The sound of the Duke’s venomous shrieks pulled Kel back to the issue at hand.

“Idiot! Thrice damned, clumsy fool! You could have killed her. Guards! I want this man flogged. Flogged do you hear me? Don’t come back until there’s not a scrap of skin left on his back!” The servant was wailing in terror as he was dragged out of the tent by several grim looking guards.

As the screams faded, the Duke turned his attention to Kel and gave him a twisted smile. “My thanks for protecting what you fought so hard to bring into my possession. I think I know just how to reward you for your part in all this. Open the cage.”